"Yes, and that's what Liputin really is—he's a chaos.
He was lying this morning when he said you were writing something, wasn't he?
"Why should he?" he said, scowling again and staring at the floor.
I apologised, and began assuring him that I was not inquisitive.
He flushed.
"He told the truth; I am writing.
Only that's no matter."
We were silent for a minute. He suddenly smiled with the childlike smile I had noticed that morning.
"He invented that about heads himself out of a book, and told me first himself, and understands badly. But I only seek the causes why men dare not kill themselves; that's all.
And it's all no matter."
"How do you mean they don't dare?
Are there so few suicides?"
"Very few."
"Do you really think so?"
He made no answer, got up, and began walking to and fro lost in thought.
"What is it restrains people from suicide, do you think?" I asked.
He looked at me absent-mindedly, as though trying to remember what we were talking about.
"I... I don't know much yet.... Two prejudices restrain them, two things; only two, one very little, the other very big."
"What is the little thing?"
"Pain."
"Pain?
Can that be of importance at such a moment?"
"Of the greatest.
There are two sorts: those who kill themselves either from great sorrow or from spite, or being mad, or no matter what... they do it suddenly.
They think little about the pain, but kill themselves suddenly.
But some do it from reason—they think a great deal."
"Why, are there people who do it from reason?"
"Very many.
If it were not for superstition there would be more, very many, all."
"What, all?"
He did not answer.
"But aren't there means of dying without pain?"
"Imagine"—he stopped before me—"imagine a stone as big as a great house; it hangs and you are under it; if it falls on you, on your head, will it hurt you?"
"A stone as big as a house?
Of course it would be fearful."
"I speak not of the fear. Will it hurt?"
"A stone as big as a mountain, weighing millions of tons?
Of course it wouldn't hurt."
"But really stand there and while it hangs you will fear very much that it will hurt.
The most learned man, the greatest doctor, all, all will be very much frightened.
Every one will know that it won't hurt, and every one will be afraid that it will hurt."
"Well, and the second cause, the big one?"
"The other world!"
"You mean punishment?"
"That's no matter.
The other world; only the other world."
"Are there no atheists, such as don't believe in the other world at all?"
Again he did not answer.
"You judge from yourself, perhaps."
"Every one cannot judge except from himself," he said, reddening.