"Do everything.

Go ahead! Let each man do whatever he knows best! But for that liberty must be given to man--complete freedom! Since there has come a time, when everyraw youth believes that he knows everything and was created for the complete arrangement of life--give him, give the rogue freedom! Here, Carrion, live! Come, come, live! Ah! Then such a comedy will follow; feeling that his bridle is off, man will then rush up higher than his ears, and like a feather will fly hither and thither.

He'll believe himself to be a miracle worker, and then he'll start to show his spirit." The old man paused awhile and, lowering his voice, went on, with a malicious smile: "But there is very little of that creative spirit in him! He'll bristle up for a day or two, stretch himself on all sides--and the poor fellow will soon grow weak.

For his heart is rotten--he, he, he! Here, he, he, he! The dear fellow will be caught by the real, worthy people, by those real people who are competent to be the actual civil masters, who will manage life not with a rod nor with a pen, but with a finger and with brains.
"What, they will say.

Have you grown tired, gentlemen?
What, they will say, your spleens cannot stand a real fire, can they?
So--" and, raising his voice, the old man concluded his speech in an authoritative tone: "Well, then, now, you rabble, hold your tongues, and don't squeak! Or we'll shake you off the earth, like worms from a tree! Silence, dear fellows! Ha, ha, ha! That's how it's going to happen, Lubavka! He, he, he!" The old man was in a merry mood.