Nekhludoff, on the other hand, felt provoked by his brother-in-law’s interference in his affairs concerning the land.  And knowing in his heart of hearts that his sister, her husband, and their children, as his heirs, had a right to do so, was indignant that this narrow-minded man persisted with calm assurance to regard as just and lawful what Nekhludoff no longer doubted was folly and crime.

This man’s arrogance annoyed Nekhludoff.

“What could the law do?” he asked.

“It could sentence one of the two duellists to the mines like an ordinary murderer.”

Nekhludoff’s hands grew cold.

“Well, and what good would that be?” he asked, hotly.

“It would be just.”

“As if justice were the aim of the law,” said Nekhludoff.

“What else?”

“The upholding of class interests!  I think the law is only an instrument for upholding the existing order of things beneficial to our class.”

“This is a perfectly new view,” said Rogozhinsky with a quiet smile; “the law is generally supposed to have a totally different aim.”

“Yes, so it has in theory but not in practice, as I have found out.  The law aims only at preserving the present state of things, and therefore it persecutes and executes those who stand above the ordinary level and wish to raise it—­the so-called political prisoners, as well as those who are below the average—­the so-called criminal types.”

“I do not agree with you.  In the first place, I cannot admit that the criminals classed as political are punished because they are above the average.  In most cases they are the refuse of society, just as much perverted, though in a different way, as the criminal types whom you consider below the average.”

“But I happen to know men who are morally far above their judges; all the sectarians are moral, from—­”

But Rogozhinsky, a man not accustomed to be interrupted when he spoke, did not listen to Nekhludoff, but went on talking at the same time, thereby irritating him still more.

“Nor can I admit that the object of the law is the upholding of the present state of things.  The law aims at reforming—­”

“A nice kind of reform, in a prison!” Nekhludoff put in.

“Or removing,” Rogozhinsky went on, persistently, “the perverted and brutalised persons that threaten society.”

“That’s just what it doesn’t do.  Society has not the means of doing either the one thing or the other.”

“How is that?  I don’t understand,” said Rogozhinsky with a forced smile.

“I mean that only two reasonable kinds of punishment exist.  Those used in the old days:  corporal and capital punishment, which, as human nature gradually softens, come more and more into disuse,” said Nekhludoff.

“There, now, this is quite new and very strange to hear from your lips.”