So many
men could not arrive at the same thought if they were not fragments
of a whole; now you know why I have written a book, and also, why I
have not put my individual name on the title-page."
From the next room they heard a woman laugh in a wild, excited way,
glasses chinked together, and a man's voice was just distinguished
in conversation. Barinskoi pricked up his ears and winked at Paul;
the others paid no attention.
"Do not misunderstand me," said Wilhelm, answering Dorfling's last
remark. I do not mean to say that your book is superfluous. You had
every right to it, having made it the object of your life."
"Not the object of my life," interrupted Dorfling. "The only object
I have in life is death, which I call deliverance."
"Very good; I will say then, when you conceived it your duty to
write it."
"'Duty' yes, I will allow that word to pass. Let us rather say
impulse, or instinct. If one has a perception one also feels an
impulse, which one calls a feeling of duty to share it with others."
Wilhelm smiled.
"You believe even in perception. That proves above all what you mean
by your duty. I know, to my regret, that I have no perceptions to
share with others, and the duty of my life is only toward my own
moral education and greatest possible perfection.
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