"Well, ifitisimpossibleforPyotrAlexandrovitch, itisimpossibleforme, andIwon', PyotrAlexandrovitch, Iwillgoawaytoo, ifyouremain, , FatherSuperior, 'sright, isn'tit, vonSohn? Here', vonSohn?"
"Doyoumeanme?" mutteredMaximov, puzzled.
"OfcourseImeanyou," criedFyodorPavlovitch."Whoelse? TheFatherSuperiorcouldnotbevonSohn."
"."
"No, , doyouknowwhovonSohnwas? —Ibelievethatiswhatsuchplacesarecalledamongyou—hewaskilledandrobbed, andinspiteofhisvenerableage, hewasnailedupinaboxandsentfromPetersburgtoMoscowintheluggagevan, andwhiletheywerenailinghimup, theharlotssangsongsandplayedtheharp, thatistosay, , hasn'the, vonSohn?"
"Whatishappening? What'sthis?" voiceswereheardinthegroupofmonks.
"Letusgo," criedMiüsov, addressingKalganov.
