Pavel stood in front of them, holding Andrey's hand in his and pressing it.
"I understand how hard it is for you," he said.
"He told me that they know us all, that we are all on the gendarme's record, and that we are going to be dragged in before the first of May.
I didn't answer, I laughed, but my blood boiled.

He began to tell me that I was a clever fellow, and that I oughtn't to go on the way I was going, but that I should rather----" The Little Russian stopped, wiped his face with his right hand, shook his head, and a dry gleam flashed in his eyes.
"I understand!" said Pavel.
"Yes," he said, "I should rather enter the service of the law." The Little Russian waved his hand, and swung his clenched fist.

"The law!--curse his soul!" he hissed between his teeth.

"It would have been better if he had struck me in the face.

It would have been easier for me, and better for him, perhaps, too! But when he spit his dirty thought into my heart that way, I could not bear it." Andrey pulled his hand convulsively from Pavel's, and said more hoarsely with disgust in his face: "I dealt him a back-hand blow like that, downward and aslant, and walked away.