But
we are purifying it, we contribute money for the poor, we look after
them--we, judge it for yourself, why should we mend another's rags,
since we did not tear them? Why should we repair a house, since
others have lived in it and since it belongs to others? Were it not
wiser for us to step aside and watch until a certain time how
rottenness is multiplying and choking those that are strangers to
us? They cannot conquer it, they have not the means to do it. Then
they will turn to us and say: 'Pray, help us, gentlemen!' and we'll
tell them: 'Let us have room for our work! Rank us among the builders
of this same life!' And as soon as they do this we, too, will have to
clear life at one sweep of all sorts of filth and chaff. Then the
Emperor will see with his clear eyes who are really his faithful
servants, and how much wisdom they have saved up while their hands
were idle. Do you understand?"
"Of course, I do!" exclaimed Foma.
When his godfather spoke of the functionaries, Foma reminded himself
of the people that were present at the dinner; he recalled the brisk
secretary, and a thought flashed through his mind that this stout
little man has in all probability an income of no more than a thousand
roubles a year, while he, Foma, has a million.
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