You are bashful, and awkward.

Youare dimly conscious of all this, and it is this consciousness that you mistake for conscience.

In this case there can be no question about conscience.

What has conscience to do here, since it is natural for man to enjoy himself, since it is his necessity and his right ?" Foma walked on, regulating his steps to those of his companion, and staring along the road, which lay between two rows of buildings, resembled an enormous ditch, and was filled with darkness.

It seemed that there was no end to the road and that something dark, inexhaustible and suffocating was slowly flowing along it in the distance.
Ookhtishchev's kind, suasive voice rang monotonously in Foma's ears, and though he was not listening to his words, he felt that they were tenacious in their way; that they adhered to him, and that he was involuntarily memorizing them.