Page 428 - the-idiot

‘You are certainly mistaken; I do not even understand
you. What else?’
Murmurs arose in the neighbourhood of Burdovsky and
his companions; Lebedeff’s nephew protested under his
breath.
‘I have nearly finished,’ replied Evgenie Pavlovitch.
‘I will only remark that from these premisses one could
conclude that might is right—I mean the right of the
clenched fist, and of personal inclination. Indeed, the world
has often come to that conclusion. Prudhon upheld that
might is right. In the American War some of the most ad-
vanced Liberals took sides with the planters on the score
that the blacks were an inferior race to the whites, and that
might was the right of the white race.’
‘Well?’
‘You mean, no doubt, that you do not deny that might is
right?’
‘What then?’
‘You are at least logical. I would only point out that from
the right of might, to the right of tigers and crocodiles, or
even Daniloff and Gorsky, is but a step.’
‘I know nothing about that; what else?’
Hippolyte was scarcely listening. He kept saying well?’
and ‘what else?’ mechanically, without the least curiosity,
and by mere force of habit.
‘Why, nothing else; that is all.’
‘However, I bear you no grudge,’ said Hippolyte suddenly,
and, hardly conscious of what he was doing, he held out his
hand with a smile. The gesture took Evgenie Pavlovitch by