Kritsky, my friend from Kiev, a very remarkable man.

He's persecuted by the police, of course, because he's not a scoundrel.

" And he looked round in the way he always did at everyone in the room.

Seeing that the woman standing in the doorway was moving to go, he shouted to her, "Wait a minute, I said.

" And with the inability to express himself, the incoherence that Konstantin knew so well, he began, with another look round at everyone, to tell his brother Kritsky's story: how he had been expelled from the university for starting a benefit society for the poor students and Sunday schools; and how he had afterwards been a teacher in a peasant school, and how he had been driven out of that too, and had afterwards been condemned for something.

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