"Why? I didn't kill Papa Irinarhov," he said, dismissively. "My father didn't even kill him."
Ilarion looked down, frowned, and leaned over to brush at an invisible scuff on the vamp of his boot with precise, gloved fingers.
"My only crime was indifference to your..." he waved his hand for a moment, "...pain."
He sighed, almost whimsical.
"Youth is a malignant disease," he said. His eyes darkened, as he drew out his handkerchief and began to burnish the leather with perfunctory adoration.
Eventually, momentarily satisfied, he stopped and straightened once more.
"In time, I learned a modicum of compassion."
He had learned. He had learned that Nikanor Grigoriivich looked favorably upon the smallest concessions on his part toward the greater good.
"I know a man who has nothing but sympathy for the wretched. Through him, I learned restraint, and reverence for suffering. I learned that self-possession and decorum are more important than contempt for the rabble."
He folded the handkerchief and put it back in his pocket.
"Now that he's gone...well, I do my best, but sometimes...I'm not so kind."
no subject
"Why? I didn't kill Papa Irinarhov," he said, dismissively. "My father didn't even kill him."
Ilarion looked down, frowned, and leaned over to brush at an invisible scuff on the vamp of his boot with precise, gloved fingers.
"My only crime was indifference to your..." he waved his hand for a moment, "...pain."
He sighed, almost whimsical.
"Youth is a malignant disease," he said. His eyes darkened, as he drew out his handkerchief and began to burnish the leather with perfunctory adoration.
Eventually, momentarily satisfied, he stopped and straightened once more.
"In time, I learned a modicum of compassion."
He had learned. He had learned that Nikanor Grigoriivich looked favorably upon the smallest concessions on his part toward the greater good.
"I know a man who has nothing but sympathy for the wretched. Through him, I learned restraint, and reverence for suffering. I learned that self-possession and decorum are more important than contempt for the rabble."
He folded the handkerchief and put it back in his pocket.
"Now that he's gone...well, I do my best, but sometimes...I'm not so kind."