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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: White Nights and Other Stories + The Novels of Fyodor Dostoevsky, Volume X + +Author: Fyodor Dostoevsky + +Translator: Constance Garnett + +Release Date: May 5, 2011 [EBook #36034] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHITE NIGHTS AND OTHER STORIES *** + + + + +Produced by Jan-Fabian Humann, Carol Ann Brown, and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net. +(This file was produced from images generously made +available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + +</pre> + +<h1>WHITE NIGHTS<br /> +AND OTHER STORIES</h1> + +<h2>THE NOVELS OF<br /> +FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY</h2> +<h3><span class="smcap">Volume X</span></h3> + +<h1>WHITE NIGHTS</h1> + +<h3>AND OTHER STORIES BY<br /> +FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY</h3> + +<h4>FROM THE RUSSIAN BY<br /> +CONSTANCE GARNETT</h4> + +<p class="p4 center">NEW YORK<br /> +THE MACMILLAN COMPANY<br /> +1918</p> + +<p class="p4 center"><i>Printed in Great Britain</i></p> + +<p class="p4 center">CONTENTS</p> + +<div> +<table class="bold" border="0" cellpadding="5" +cellspacing="10" summary="Table of Contents"> +<tr><td></td><td class="right"><span class="smcap">page</span></td></tr> + +<tr><td><span class="smcap">White Nights</span></td><td class="right"><a +href="#Pg1">1</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><span class="smcap">Notes from +Underground</span>—</td></tr> + +<tr><td class="left"> <span class="smcap">part i. +underground</span></td><td class="right"><a href="#Pg50">50</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="left"> <span class="smcap">part ii. à propos of the wet +snow</span></td><td class="right"><a href="#Pg81">81</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><span class="smcap">A Faint Heart</span></td><td +class="right"><a href="#Pg156">156</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><span class="smcap">A Christmas Tree and a +Wedding</span></td><td class="right"><a href="#Pg200">200</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><span class="smcap">Polzunkov</span></td><td class="right"><a +href="#Pg208">208</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><span class="smcap">A Little Hero</span></td><td +class="right"><a href="#Pg223">223</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><span class="smcap">Mr. Prohartchin</span></td><td +class="right"><a href="#Pg258">258</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + +<p class="p4 center"><a name="Pg1">WHITE NIGHTS</a></p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">a sentimental story from the diary +of a dreamer</span></p> + +<p class="p2 center">FIRST NIGHT</p> + +<p class="p2">It was a wonderful night, such a night as is only possible +when we are young, dear reader. The sky was so starry, so bright that, +looking at it, one could not help asking oneself whether ill-humoured +and capricious people could live under such a sky. That is a youthful +question too, dear reader, very youthful, but may the Lord put it more +frequently into your heart!... Speaking of capricious and ill-humoured +people, I cannot help recalling my moral condition all that day. From +early morning I had been oppressed by a strange despondency. It suddenly +seemed to me that I was lonely, that every one was forsaking me and +going away from me. Of course, any one is entitled to ask who "every +one" was. For though I had been living almost eight years in Petersburg +I had hardly an acquaintance. But what did I want with acquaintances? I +was acquainted with all Petersburg as it was; that was why I felt as +though they were all deserting me when all Petersburg packed up and went +to its summer villa. I felt afraid of being left alone, and for three +whole days I wandered about the town in profound dejection, not knowing +what to do with myself. Whether I walked in the Nevsky, went to the +Gardens or sauntered on the embankment, there was not one face of those +I had been accustomed to meet at the same time and place all the year. +They, of course, do not know me, but I know them. I know them +intimately, I have almost made a study of their faces, and am delighted +when they are gay, and downcast when they are under a cloud. I have +almost struck up a friendship with one old man whom I meet every blessed +day, at the same hour in Fontanka. Such a grave, pensive countenance; he +is always whispering to himself and brandishing his left arm, while in +his right hand he holds a long gnarled stick with a gold knob. He even +notices me and takes a warm interest in me. If I happen not to be at a +certain time in the same spot in Fontanka, I am certain he feels +disappointed. That is how it is that we almost bow to each other, +especially when we are both in good humour. The other day, when we had +not seen each other for two days and met on the third, we were actually +touching our hats, but, realizing in time, dropped our hands and passed +each other with a look of interest.</p> + +<p>I know the houses too. As I walk along they seem to run forward in +the streets to look out at me from every window, and almost to say: +"Good-morning! How do you do? I am quite well, thank God, and I am to +have a new storey in May," or, "How are you? I am being redecorated +to-morrow;" or, "I was almost burnt down and had such a fright," and so +on. I have my favourites among them, some are dear friends; one of them +intends to be treated by the architect this summer. I shall go every day +on purpose to see that the operation is not a failure. God forbid! But I +shall never forget an incident with a very pretty little house of a +light pink colour. It was such a charming little brick house, it looked +so hospitably at me, and so proudly at its ungainly neighbours, that my +heart rejoiced whenever I happened to pass it. Suddenly last week I +walked along the street, and when I looked at my friend I heard a +plaintive, "They are painting me yellow!" The villains! The barbarians! +They had spared nothing, neither columns, nor cornices, and my poor +little friend was as yellow as a canary. It almost made me bilious. And +to this day I have not had the courage to visit my poor disfigured +friend, painted the colour of the Celestial Empire.</p> + +<p>So now you understand, reader, in what sense I am acquainted with all +Petersburg.</p> + +<p>I have mentioned already that I had felt worried for three whole days +before I guessed the cause of my uneasiness. And I felt ill at ease in +the street—this one had gone and that one had gone, and what had +become of the other?—and at home I did not feel like myself +either. For two evenings I was puzzling my brains to think what was +amiss in my corner; why I felt so uncomfortable in it. And in perplexity +I scanned my grimy green walls, my ceiling covered with a spider's web, +the growth of which Matrona has so successfully encouraged. I looked +over all my furniture, examined every chair, wondering whether the +trouble lay there (for if one chair is not standing in the same position +as it stood the day before, I am not myself). I looked at the window, +but it was all in vain ... I was not a bit the better for it! I even +bethought me to send for Matrona, and was giving her some fatherly +admonitions in regard to the spider's web and sluttishness in general; +but she simply stared at me in amazement and went away without saying a +word, so that the spider's web is comfortably hanging in its place to +this day. I only at last this morning realized what was wrong. Aie! Why, +they are giving me the slip and making off to their summer villas! +Forgive the triviality of the expression, but I am in no mood for fine +language ... for everything that had been in Petersburg had gone or was +going away for the holidays; for every respectable gentleman of +dignified appearance who took a cab was at once transformed, in my eyes, +into a respectable head of a household who after his daily duties were +over, was making his way to the bosom of his family, to the summer +villa; for all the passers-by had now quite a peculiar air which seemed +to say to every one they met: "We are only here for the moment, +gentlemen, and in another two hours we shall be going off to the summer +villa." If a window opened after delicate fingers, white as snow, had +tapped upon the pane, and the head of a pretty girl was thrust out, +calling to a street-seller with pots of flowers—at once on the +spot I fancied that those flowers were being bought not simply in order +to enjoy the flowers and the spring in stuffy town lodgings, but because +they would all be very soon moving into the country and could take the +flowers with them. What is more, I made such progress in my new peculiar +sort of investigation that I could distinguish correctly from the mere +air of each in what summer villa he was living. The inhabitants of +Kamenny and Aptekarsky Islands or of the Peterhof Road were marked by +the studied elegance of their manner, their fashionable summer suits, +and the fine carriages in which they drove to town. Visitors to +Pargolovo and places further away impressed one at first sight by their +reasonable and dignified air; the tripper to Krestovsky Island could be +recognized by his look of irrepressible gaiety. If I chanced to meet a +long procession of waggoners walking lazily with the reins in their +hands beside waggons loaded with regular mountains of furniture, tables, +chairs, ottomans and sofas and domestic utensils of all sorts, +frequently with a decrepit cook sitting on the top of it all, guarding +her master's property as though it were the apple of her eye; or if I +saw boats heavily loaded with household goods crawling along the Neva or +Fontanka to the Black River or the Islands—the waggons and the +boats were multiplied tenfold, a hundredfold, in my eyes. I fancied that +everything was astir and moving, everything was going in regular +caravans to the summer villas. It seemed as though Petersburg threatened +to become a wilderness, so that at last I felt ashamed, mortified and +sad that I had nowhere to go for the holidays and no reason to go away. +I was ready to go away with every waggon, to drive off with every +gentleman of respectable appearance who took a cab; but no +one—absolutely no one—invited me; it seemed they had +forgotten me, as though really I were a stranger to them!</p> + +<p>I took long walks, succeeding, as I usually did, in quite forgetting +where I was, when I suddenly found myself at the city gates. Instantly I +felt lighthearted, and I passed the barrier and walked between +cultivated fields and meadows, unconscious of fatigue, and feeling only +all over as though a burden were falling off my soul. All the passers-by +gave me such friendly looks that they seemed almost greeting me, they +all seemed so pleased at something. They were all smoking cigars, every +one of them. And I felt pleased as I never had before. It was as though +I had suddenly found myself in Italy—so strong was the effect of +nature upon a half-sick townsman like me, almost stifling between city +walls.</p> + +<p>There is something inexpressibly touching in nature round Petersburg, +when at the approach of spring she puts forth all her might, all the +powers bestowed on her by Heaven, when she breaks into leaf, decks +herself out and spangles herself with flowers.... Somehow I cannot help +being reminded of a frail, consumptive girl, at whom one sometimes looks +with compassion, sometimes with sympathetic love, whom sometimes one +simply does not notice; though suddenly in one instant she becomes, as +though by chance, inexplicably lovely and exquisite, and, impressed and +intoxicated, one cannot help asking oneself what power made those sad, +pensive eyes flash with such fire? What summoned the blood to those +pale, wan cheeks? What bathed with passion those soft features? What set +that bosom heaving? What so suddenly called strength, life and beauty +into the poor girl's face, making it gleam with such a smile, kindle +with such bright, sparkling laughter? You look round, you seek for some +one, you conjecture.... But the moment passes, and next day you meet, +maybe, the same pensive and preoccupied look as before, the same pale +face, the same meek and timid movements, and even signs of remorse, +traces of a mortal anguish and regret for the fleeting distraction.... +And you grieve that the momentary beauty has faded so soon never to +return, that it flashed upon you so treacherously, so vainly, grieve +because you had not even time to love her....</p> + +<p>And yet my night was better than my day! This was how it +happened.</p> + +<p>I came back to the town very late, and it had struck ten as I was +going towards my lodgings. My way lay along the canal embankment, where +at that hour you never meet a soul. It is true that I live in a very +remote part of the town. I walked along singing, for when I am happy I +am always humming to myself like every happy man who has no friend or +acquaintance with whom to share his joy. Suddenly I had a most +unexpected adventure.</p> + +<p>Leaning on the canal railing stood a woman with her elbows on the +rail, she was apparently looking with great attention at the muddy water +of the canal. She was wearing a very charming yellow hat and a jaunty +little black mantle. "She's a girl, and I am sure she is dark," I +thought. She did not seem to hear my footsteps, and did not even stir +when I passed by with bated breath and loudly throbbing heart.</p> + +<p>"Strange," I thought; "she must be deeply absorbed in something," and +all at once I stopped as though petrified. I heard a muffled sob. Yes! I +was not mistaken, the girl was crying, and a minute later I heard sob +after sob. Good Heavens! My heart sank. And timid as I was with women, +yet this was such a moment!... I turned, took a step towards her, and +should certainly have pronounced the word "Madam!" if I had not known +that that exclamation has been uttered a thousand times in every Russian +society novel. It was only that reflection stopped me. But while I was +seeking for a word, the girl came to herself, looked round, started, +cast down her eyes and slipped by me along the embankment. I at once +followed her; but she, divining this, left the embankment, crossed the +road and walked along the pavement. I dared not cross the street after +her. My heart was fluttering like a captured bird. All at once a chance +came to my aid.</p> + +<p>Along the same side of the pavement there suddenly came into sight, +not far from the girl, a gentleman in evening dress, of dignified years, +though by no means of dignified carriage; he was staggering and +cautiously leaning against the wall. The girl flew straight as an arrow, +with the timid haste one sees in all girls who do not want any one to +volunteer to accompany them home at night, and no doubt the staggering +gentleman would not have pursued her, if my good luck had not prompted +him.</p> + +<p>Suddenly, without a word to any one, the gentleman set off and flew +full speed in pursuit of my unknown lady. She was racing like the wind, +but the staggering gentleman was overtaking—overtook her. The girl +uttered a shriek, and ... I bless my luck for the excellent knotted +stick, which happened on that occasion to be in my right hand. In a +flash I was on the other side of the street; in a flash the obtrusive +gentleman had taken in the position, had grasped the irresistible +argument, fallen back without a word, and only when we were very far +away protested against my action in rather vigorous language. But his +words hardly reached us.</p> + +<p>"Give me your arm," I said to the girl. "And he won't dare to annoy +us further."</p> + +<p>She took my arm without a word, still trembling with excitement and +terror. Oh, obtrusive gentleman! How I blessed you at that moment! I +stole a glance at her, she was very charming and dark—I had +guessed right.</p> + +<p>On her black eyelashes there still glistened a tear—from her +recent terror or her former grief—I don't know. But there was +already a gleam of a smile on her lips. She too stole a glance at me, +faintly blushed and looked down.</p> + +<p>"There, you see; why did you drive me away? If I had been here, +nothing would have happened...."</p> + +<p>"But I did not know you; I thought that you too...."</p> + +<p>"Why, do you know me now?"</p> + +<p>"A little! Here, for instance, why are you trembling?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, you are right at the first guess!" I answered, delighted that my +girl had intelligence; that is never out of place in company with +beauty. "Yes, from the first glance you have guessed the sort of man you +have to do with. Precisely; I am shy with women, I am agitated, I don't +deny it, as much so as you were a minute ago when that gentleman alarmed +you. I am in some alarm now. It's like a dream, and I never guessed even +in my sleep that I should ever talk with any woman."</p> + +<p>"What? Really?..."</p> + +<p>"Yes; if my arm trembles, it is because it has never been held by a +pretty little hand like yours. I am a complete stranger to women; that +is, I have never been used to them. You see, I am alone.... I don't even +know how to talk to them. Here, I don't know now whether I have not said +something silly to you! Tell me frankly; I assure you beforehand that I +am not quick to take offence?..."</p> + +<p>"No, nothing, nothing, quite the contrary. And if you insist on my +speaking frankly, I will tell you that women like such timidity; and if +you want to know more, I like it too, and I won't drive you away till I +get home."</p> + +<p>"You will make me," I said, breathless with delight, "lose my +timidity, and then farewell to all my chances...."</p> + +<p>"Chances! What chances—of what? That's not so nice."</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, I am sorry, it was a slip of the tongue; but how +can you expect one at such a moment to have no desire...."</p> + +<p>"To be liked, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Well, yes; but do, for goodness' sake, be kind. Think what I am! +Here, I am twenty-six and I have never seen any one. How can I speak +well, tactfully, and to the point? It will seem better to you when I +have told you everything openly.... I don't know how to be silent when +my heart is speaking. Well, never mind.... Believe me, not one woman, +never, never! No acquaintance of any sort! And I do nothing but dream +every day that at last I shall meet some one. Oh, if only you knew how +often I have been in love in that way...."</p> + +<p>"How? With whom?..."</p> + +<p>"Why, with no one, with an ideal, with the one I dream of in my +sleep. I make up regular romances in my dreams. Ah, you don't know me! +It's true, of course, I have met two or three women, but what sort of +women were they? They were all landladies, that.... But I shall make you +laugh if I tell you that I have several times thought of speaking, just +simply speaking, to some aristocratic lady in the street, when she is +alone, I need hardly say; speaking to her, of course, timidly, +respectfully, passionately; telling her that I am perishing in solitude, +begging her not to send me away; saying that I have no chance of making +the acquaintance of any woman; impressing upon her that it is a positive +duty for a woman not to repulse so timid a prayer from such a luckless +man as me. That, in fact, all I ask is, that she should say two or three +sisterly words with sympathy, should not repulse me at first sight; +should take me on trust and listen to what I say; should laugh at me if +she likes, encourage me, say two words to me, only two words, even +though we never meet again afterwards!... But you are laughing; however, +that is why I am telling you...."</p> + +<p>"Don't be vexed; I am only laughing at your being your own enemy, and +if you had tried you would have succeeded, perhaps, even though it had +been in the street; the simpler the better.... No kind-hearted woman, +unless she were stupid or, still more, vexed about something at the +moment, could bring herself to send you away without those two words +which you ask for so timidly.... But what am I saying? Of course she +would take you for a madman. I was judging by myself; I know a good deal +about other people's lives."</p> + +<p>"Oh, thank you," I cried; "you don't know what you have done for me +now!"</p> + +<p>"I am glad! I am glad! But tell me how did you find out that I was +the sort of woman with whom ... well, whom you think worthy ... of +attention and friendship ... in fact, not a landlady as you say? What +made you decide to come up to me?"</p> + +<p>"What made me?... But you were alone; that gentleman was too +insolent; it's night. You must admit that it was a duty...."</p> + +<p>"No, no; I mean before, on the other side—you know you meant to +come up to me."</p> + +<p>"On the other side? Really I don't know how to answer; I am afraid +to.... Do you know I have been happy to-day? I walked along singing; I +went out into the country; I have never had such happy moments. You ... +perhaps it was my fancy.... Forgive me for referring to it; I fancied +you were crying, and I ... could not bear to hear it ... it made my +heart ache.... Oh, my goodness! Surely I might be troubled about you? +Surely there was no harm in feeling brotherly compassion for you.... I +beg your pardon, I said compassion.... Well, in short, surely you would +not be offended at my involuntary impulse to go up to you?..."</p> + +<p>"Stop, that's enough, don't talk of it," said the girl, looking down, +and pressing my hand. "It's my fault for having spoken of it; but I am +glad I was not mistaken in you.... But here I am home; I must go down +this turning, it's two steps from here.... Good-bye, thank you!..."</p> + +<p>"Surely ... surely you don't mean ... that we shall never see each +other again?... Surely this is not to be the end?"</p> + +<p>"You see," said the girl, laughing, "at first you only wanted two +words, and now.... However, I won't say anything ... perhaps we shall +meet...."</p> + +<p>"I shall come here to-morrow," I said. "Oh, forgive me, I am already +making demands...."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you are not very patient ... you are almost insisting."</p> + +<p>"Listen, listen!" I interrupted her. "Forgive me if I tell you +something else.... I tell you what, I can't help coming here to-morrow, +I am a dreamer; I have so little real life that I look upon such moments +as this now, as so rare, that I cannot help going over such moments +again in my dreams. I shall be dreaming of you all night, a whole week, +a whole year. I shall certainly come here to-morrow, just here to this +place, just at the same hour, and I shall be happy remembering to-day. +This place is dear to me already. I have already two or three such +places in Petersburg. I once shed tears over memories ... like you.... +Who knows, perhaps you were weeping ten minutes ago over some memory.... +But, forgive me, I have forgotten myself again; perhaps you have once +been particularly happy here...."</p> + +<p>"Very good," said the girl, "perhaps I will come here to-morrow, too, +at ten o'clock. I see that I can't forbid you.... The fact is, I have to +be here; don't imagine that I am making an appointment with you; I tell +you beforehand that I have to be here on my own account. But ... well, I +tell you straight out, I don't mind if you do come. To begin with, +something unpleasant might happen as it did to-day, but never mind +that.... In short, I should simply like to see you ... to say two words +to you. Only, mind, you must not think the worse of me now! Don't think +I make appointments so lightly.... I shouldn't make it except that.... +But let that be my secret! Only a compact beforehand...."</p> + +<p>"A compact! Speak, tell me, tell me all beforehand; I agree to +anything, I am ready for anything," I cried delighted. "I answer for +myself, I will be obedient, respectful ... you know me...."</p> + +<p>"It's just because I do know you that I ask you to come to-morrow," +said the girl, laughing. "I know you perfectly. But mind you will come +on the condition, in the first place (only be good, do what I +ask—you see, I speak frankly), you won't fall in love with me.... +That's impossible, I assure you. I am ready for friendship; here's my +hand.... But you mustn't fall in love with me, I beg you!"</p> + +<p>"I swear," I cried, gripping her hand....</p> + +<p>"Hush, don't swear, I know you are ready to flare up like gunpowder. +Don't think ill of me for saying so. If only you knew.... I, too, have +no one to whom I can say a word, whose advice I can ask. Of course, one +does not look for an adviser in the street; but you are an exception. I +know you as though we had been friends for twenty years.... You won't +deceive me, will you?..."</p> + +<p>"You will see ... the only thing is, I don't know how I am going to +survive the next twenty-four hours."</p> + +<p>"Sleep soundly. Good-night, and remember that I have trusted you +already. But you exclaimed so nicely just now, 'Surely one can't be held +responsible for every feeling, even for brotherly sympathy!' Do you +know, that was so nicely said, that the idea struck me at once, that I +might confide in you?"</p> + +<p>"For God's sake do; but about what? What is it?"</p> + +<p>"Wait till to-morrow. Meanwhile, let that be a secret. So much the +better for you; it will give it a faint flavour of romance. Perhaps I +will tell you to-morrow, and perhaps not.... I will talk to you a little +more beforehand; we will get to know each other better...."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, I will tell you all about myself to-morrow! But what has +happened? It is as though a miracle had befallen me.... My God, where am +I? Come, tell me aren't you glad that you were not angry and did not +drive me away at the first moment, as any other woman would have done? +In two minutes you have made me happy for ever. Yes, happy; who knows, +perhaps, you have reconciled me with myself, solved my doubts!... +Perhaps such moments come upon me.... But there I will tell you all +about it to-morrow, you shall know everything, everything...."</p> + +<p>"Very well, I consent; you shall begin...."</p> + +<p>"Agreed."</p> + +<p>"Good-bye till to-morrow!"</p> + +<p>"Till to-morrow!"</p> + +<p>And we parted. I walked about all night; I could not make up my mind +to go home. I was so happy.... To-morrow!</p> + +<p class="p4 center">SECOND NIGHT</p> + +<p class="p2">"Well, so you have survived!" she said, pressing both my +hands.</p> + +<p>"I've been here for the last two hours; you don't know what a state I +have been in all day."</p> + +<p>"I know, I know. But to business. Do you know why I have come? Not to +talk nonsense, as I did yesterday. I tell you what, we must behave more +sensibly in future. I thought a great deal about it last night."</p> + +<p>"In what way—in what must we be more sensible? I am ready for +my part; but, really, nothing more sensible has happened to me in my +life than this, now."</p> + +<p>"Really? In the first place, I beg you not to squeeze my hands so; +secondly, I must tell you that I spent a long time thinking about you +and feeling doubtful to-day."</p> + +<p>"And how did it end?"</p> + +<p>"How did it end? The upshot of it is that we must begin all over +again, because the conclusion I reached to-day was that I don't know you +at all; that I behaved like a baby last night, like a little girl; and, +of course, the fact of it is, that it's my soft heart that is to +blame—that is, I sang my own praises, as one always does in the +end when one analyses one's conduct. And therefore to correct my +mistake, I've made up my mind to find out all about you minutely. But as +I have no one from whom I can find out anything, you must tell me +everything fully yourself. Well, what sort of man are you? Come, make +haste—begin—tell me your whole history."</p> + +<p>"My history!" I cried in alarm. "My history! But who has told you I +have a history? I have no history...."</p> + +<p>"Then how have you lived, if you have no history?" she interrupted, +laughing.</p> + +<p>"Absolutely without any history! I have lived, as they say, keeping +myself to myself, that is, utterly alone—alone, entirely alone. Do +you know what it means to be alone?"</p> + +<p>"But how alone? Do you mean you never saw any one?"</p> + +<p>"Oh no, I see people, of course; but still I am alone."</p> + +<p>"Why, do you never talk to any one?"</p> + +<p>"Strictly speaking, with no one."</p> + +<p>"Who are you then? Explain yourself! Stay, I guess: most likely, like +me you have a grandmother. She is blind and will never let me go +anywhere, so that I have almost forgotten how to talk; and when I played +some pranks two years ago, and she saw there was no holding me in, she +called me up and pinned my dress to hers, and ever since we sit like +that for days together; she knits a stocking, though she's blind, and I +sit beside her, sew or read aloud to her—it's such a queer habit, +here for two years I've been pinned to her...."</p> + +<p>"Good Heavens! what misery! But no, I haven't a grandmother like +that."</p> + +<p>"Well, if you haven't why do you sit at home?..."</p> + +<p>"Listen, do you want to know the sort of man I am?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes!"</p> + +<p>"In the strict sense of the word?"</p> + +<p>"In the very strictest sense of the word."</p> + +<p>"Very well, I am a type!"</p> + +<p>"Type, type! What sort of type?" cried the girl, laughing, as though +she had not had a chance of laughing for a whole year. "Yes, it's very +amusing talking to you. Look, here's a seat, let us sit down. No one is +passing here, no one will hear us, and—begin your history. For +it's no good your telling me, I know you have a history; only you are +concealing it. To begin with, what is a type?" </p> + +<p>"A type? A type is an original, it's an absurd person!" I said, +infected by her childish laughter. "It's a character. Listen; do you +know what is meant by a dreamer?"</p> + +<p>"A dreamer! Indeed I should think I do know. I am a dreamer myself. +Sometimes, as I sit by grandmother, all sorts of things come into my +head. Why, when one begins dreaming one lets one's fancy run away with +one—why, I marry a Chinese Prince!... Though sometimes it is a +good thing to dream! But, goodness knows! Especially when one has +something to think of apart from dreams," added the girl, this time +rather seriously.</p> + +<p>"Excellent! If you have been married to a Chinese Emperor, you will +quite understand me. Come, listen.... But one minute, I don't know your +name yet."</p> + +<p>"At last! You have been in no hurry to think of it!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, my goodness! It never entered my head, I felt quite happy as it +was...."</p> + +<p>"My name is Nastenka."</p> + +<p>"Nastenka! And nothing else?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing else! Why, is not that enough for you, you insatiable +person?"</p> + +<p>"Not enough? On the contrary, it's a great deal, a very great deal, +Nastenka; you kind girl, if you are Nastenka for me from the first."</p> + +<p>"Quite so! Well?"</p> + +<p>"Well, listen, Nastenka, now for this absurd history."</p> + +<p>I sat down beside her, assumed a pedantically serious attitude, and +began as though reading from a manuscript:—</p> + +<p>"There are, Nastenka, though you may not know it, strange nooks in +Petersburg. It seems as though the same sun as shines for all Petersburg +people does not peep into those spots, but some other different new one, +bespoken expressly for those nooks, and it throws a different light on +everything. In these corners, dear Nastenka, quite a different life is +lived, quite unlike the life that is surging round us, but such as +perhaps exists in some unknown realm, not among us in our serious, +over-serious, time. Well, that life is a mixture of something purely +fantastic, fervently ideal, with something (alas! Nastenka) dingily +prosaic and ordinary, not to say incredibly vulgar."</p> + +<p>"Foo! Good Heavens! What a preface! What do I hear?"</p> + +<p>"Listen, Nastenka. (It seems to me I shall never be tired of calling +you Nastenka.) Let me tell you that in these corners live strange +people—dreamers. The dreamer—if you want an exact +definition—is not a human being, but a creature of an intermediate +sort. For the most part he settles in some inaccessible corner, as +though hiding from the light of day; once he slips into his corner, he +grows to it like a snail, or, anyway, he is in that respect very much +like that remarkable creature, which is an animal and a house both at +once, and is called a tortoise. Why do you suppose he is so fond of his +four walls, which are invariably painted green, grimy, dismal and +reeking unpardonably of tobacco smoke? Why is it that when this absurd +gentleman is visited by one of his few acquaintances (and he ends by +getting rid of all his friends), why does this absurd person meet him +with such embarrassment, changing countenance and overcome with +confusion, as though he had only just committed some crime within his +four walls; as though he had been forging counterfeit notes, or as +though he were writing verses to be sent to a journal with an anonymous +letter, in which he states that the real poet is dead, and that his +friend thinks it his sacred duty to publish his things? Why, tell me, +Nastenka, why is it conversation is not easy between the two friends? +Why is there no laughter? Why does no lively word fly from the tongue of +the perplexed newcomer, who at other times may be very fond of laughter, +lively words, conversation about the fair sex, and other cheerful +subjects? And why does this friend, probably a new friend and on his +first visit—for there will hardly be a second, and the friend will +never come again—why is the friend himself so confused, so +tongue-tied, in spite of his wit (if he has any), as he looks at the +downcast face of his host, who in his turn becomes utterly helpless and +at his wits' end after gigantic but fruitless efforts to smooth things +over and enliven the conversation, to show his knowledge of polite +society, to talk, too, of the fair sex, and by such humble endeavour, to +please the poor man, who like a fish out of water has mistakenly come to +visit him? Why does the gentleman, all at once remembering some very +necessary business which never existed, suddenly seize his hat and +hurriedly make off, snatching away his hand from the warm grip of his +host, who was trying his utmost to show his regret and retrieve the lost +position? Why does the friend chuckle as he goes out of the door, and +swear never to come and see this queer creature again, though the queer +creature is really a very good fellow, and at the same time he cannot +refuse his imagination the little diversion of comparing the queer +fellow's countenance during their conversation with the expression of an +unhappy kitten treacherously captured, roughly handled, frightened and +subjected to all sorts of indignities by children, till, utterly +crestfallen, it hides away from them under a chair in the dark, and +there must needs at its leisure bristle up, spit, and wash its insulted +face with both paws, and long afterwards look angrily at life and +nature, and even at the bits saved from the master's dinner for it by +the sympathetic housekeeper?"</p> + +<p>"Listen," interrupted Nastenka, who had listened to me all the time +in amazement, opening her eyes and her little mouth. "Listen; I don't +know in the least why it happened and why you ask me such absurd +questions; all I know is, that this adventure must have happened word +for word to you."</p> + +<p>"Doubtless," I answered, with the gravest face.</p> + +<p>"Well, since there is no doubt about it, go on," said Nastenka, +"because I want very much to know how it will end."</p> + +<p>"You want to know, Nastenka, what our hero, that is I—for the +hero of the whole business was my humble self—did in his corner? +You want to know why I lost my head and was upset for the whole day by +the unexpected visit of a friend? You want to know why I was so +startled, why I blushed when the door of my room was opened, why I was +not able to entertain my visitor, and why I was crushed under the weight +of my own hospitality?"</p> + +<p>"Why, yes, yes," answered Nastenka, "that's the point. Listen. You +describe it all splendidly, but couldn't you perhaps describe it a +little less splendidly? You talk as though you were reading it out of a +book."</p> + +<p>"Nastenka," I answered in a stern and dignified voice, hardly able to +keep from laughing, "dear Nastenka, I know I describe splendidly, but, +excuse me, I don't know how else to do it. At this moment, dear +Nastenka, at this moment I am like the spirit of King Solomon when, +after lying a thousand years under seven seals in his urn, those seven +seals were at last taken off. At this moment, Nastenka, when we have met +at last after such a long separation—for I have known you for +ages, Nastenka, because I have been looking for some one for ages, and +that is a sign that it was you I was looking for, and it was ordained +that we should meet now—at this moment a thousand valves have +opened in my head, and I must let myself flow in a river of words, or I +shall choke. And so I beg you not to interrupt me, Nastenka, but listen +humbly and obediently, or I will be silent."</p> + +<p>"No, no, no! Not at all. Go on! I won't say a word!"</p> + +<p>"I will continue. There is, my friend Nastenka, one hour in my day +which I like extremely. That is the hour when almost all business, work +and duties are over, and every one is hurrying home to dinner, to lie +down, to rest, and on the way all are cogitating on other more cheerful +subjects relating to their evenings, their nights, and all the rest of +their free time. At that hour our hero—for allow me, Nastenka, to +tell my story in the third person, for one feels awfully ashamed to tell +it in the first person—and so at that hour our hero, who had his +work too, was pacing along after the others. But a strange feeling of +pleasure set his pale, rather crumpled-looking face working. He looked +not with indifference on the evening glow which was slowly fading on the +cold Petersburg sky. When I say he looked, I am lying: he did not look +at it, but saw it as it were without realizing, as though tired or +preoccupied with some other more interesting subject, so that he could +scarcely spare a glance for anything about him. He was pleased because +till next day he was released from business irksome to him, and happy as +a schoolboy let out from the class-room to his games and mischief. Take +a look at him, Nastenka; you will see at once that joyful emotion has +already had an effect on his weak nerves and morbidly excited fancy. You +see he is thinking of something.... Of dinner, do you imagine? Of the +evening? What is he looking at like that? Is it at that gentleman of +dignified appearance who is bowing so picturesquely to the lady who +rolls by in a carriage drawn by prancing horses? No, Nastenka; what are +all those trivialities to him now! He is rich now with his <i>own +individual</i> life; he has suddenly become rich, and it is not for +nothing that the fading sunset sheds its farewell gleams so gaily before +him, and calls forth a swarm of impressions from his warmed heart. Now +he hardly notices the road, on which the tiniest details at other times +would strike him. Now 'the Goddess of Fancy' (if you have read +Zhukovsky, dear Nastenka) has already with fantastic hand spun her +golden warp and begun weaving upon it patterns of marvellous magic +life—and who knows, maybe, her fantastic hand has borne him to the +seventh crystal heaven far from the excellent granite pavement on which +he was walking his way? Try stopping him now, ask him suddenly where he +is standing now, through what streets he is going—he will, +probably remember nothing, neither where he is going nor where he is +standing now, and flushing with vexation he will certainly tell some lie +to save appearances. That is why he starts, almost cries out, and looks +round with horror when a respectable old lady stops him politely in the +middle of the pavement and asks her way. Frowning with vexation he +strides on, scarcely noticing that more than one passer-by smiles and +turns round to look after him, and that a little girl, moving out of his +way in alarm, laughs aloud, gazing open-eyed at his broad meditative +smile and gesticulations. But fancy catches up in its playful flight the +old woman, the curious passers-by, and the laughing child, and the +peasants spending their nights in their barges on Fontanka (our hero, +let us suppose, is walking along the canal-side at that moment), and +capriciously weaves every one and everything into the canvas like a fly +in a spider's web. And it is only after the queer fellow has returned to +his comfortable den with fresh stores for his mind to work on, has sat +down and finished his dinner, that he comes to himself, when Matrona who +waits upon him—always thoughtful and depressed—clears the +table and gives him his pipe; he comes to himself then and recalls with +surprise that he has dined, though he has absolutely no notion how it +has happened. It has grown dark in the room; his soul is sad and empty; +the whole kingdom of fancies drops to pieces about him, drops to pieces +without a trace, without a sound, floats away like a dream, and he +cannot himself remember what he was dreaming. But a vague sensation +faintly stirs his heart and sets it aching, some new desire temptingly +tickles and excites his fancy, and imperceptibly evokes a swarm of fresh +phantoms. Stillness reigns in the little room; imagination is fostered +by solitude and idleness; it is faintly smouldering, faintly simmering, +like the water with which old Matrona is making her coffee as she moves +quietly about in the kitchen close by. Now it breaks out spasmodically; +and the book, picked up aimlessly and at random, drops from my dreamer's +hand before he has reached the third page. His imagination is again +stirred and at work, and again a new world, a new fascinating life opens +vistas before him. A fresh dream—fresh happiness! A fresh rush of +delicate, voluptuous poison! What is real life to him! To his corrupted +eyes we live, you and I, Nastenka, so torpidly, slowly, insipidly; in +his eyes we are all so dissatisfied with our fate, so exhausted by our +life! And, truly, see how at first sight everything is cold, morose, as +though ill-humoured among us.... Poor things! thinks our dreamer. And it +is no wonder that he thinks it! Look at these magic phantasms, which so +enchantingly, so whimsically, so carelessly and freely group before him +in such a magic, animated picture, in which the most prominent figure in +the foreground is of course himself, our dreamer, in his precious +person. See what varied adventures, what an endless swarm of ecstatic +dreams. You ask, perhaps, what he is dreaming of. Why ask +that?—why, of everything ... of the lot of the poet, first +unrecognized, then crowned with laurels; of friendship with Hoffmann, +St. Bartholomew's Night, of Diana Vernon, of playing the hero at the +taking of Kazan by Ivan Vassilyevitch, of Clara Mowbray, of Effie Deans, +of the council of the prelates and Huss before them, of the rising of +the dead in 'Robert the Devil' (do you remember the music, it smells of +the churchyard!), of Minna and Brenda, of the battle of Berezina, of the +reading of a poem at Countess V. D.'s, of Danton, of Cleopatra <i>ei +suoi amanti</i>, of a little house in Kolomna, of a little home of one's +own and beside one a dear creature who listens to one on a winter's +evening, opening her little mouth and eyes as you are listening to me +now, my angel.... No, Nastenka, what is there, what is there for him, +voluptuous sluggard, in this life, for which you and I have such a +longing? He thinks that this is a poor pitiful life, not foreseeing that +for him too, maybe, sometime the mournful hour may strike, when for one +day of that pitiful life he would give all his years of phantasy, and +would give them not only for joy and for happiness, but without caring +to make distinctions in that hour of sadness, remorse and unchecked +grief. But so far that threatening has not arrived—he desires +nothing, because he is superior to all desire, because he has +everything, because he is satiated, because he is the artist of his own +life, and creates it for himself every hour to suit his latest whim. And +you know this fantastic world of fairyland is so easily, so naturally +created! As though it were not a delusion! Indeed, he is ready to +believe at some moments that all this life is not suggested by feeling, +is not mirage, not a delusion of the imagination, but that it is +concrete, real, substantial! Why is it, Nastenka, why is it at such +moments one holds one's breath? Why, by what sorcery, through what +incomprehensible caprice, is the pulse quickened, does a tear start from +the dreamer's eye, while his pale moist cheeks glow, while his whole +being is suffused with an inexpressible sense of consolation? Why is it +that whole sleepless nights pass like a flash in inexhaustible gladness +and happiness, and when the dawn gleams rosy at the window and daybreak +floods the gloomy room with uncertain, fantastic light, as in +Petersburg, our dreamer, worn out and exhausted, flings himself on his +bed and drops asleep with thrills of delight in his morbidly overwrought +spirit, and with a weary sweet ache in his heart? Yes, Nastenka, one +deceives oneself and unconsciously believes that real true passion is +stirring one's soul; one unconsciously believes that there is something +living, tangible in one's immaterial dreams! And is it delusion? Here +love, for instance, is bound up with all its fathomless joy, all its +torturing agonies in his bosom.... Only look at him, and you will be +convinced! Would you believe, looking at him, dear Nastenka, that he has +never known her whom he loves in his ecstatic dreams? Can it be that he +has only seen her in seductive visions, and that this passion has been +nothing but a dream? Surely they must have spent years hand in hand +together—alone the two of them, casting off all the world and each +uniting his or her life with the other's? Surely when the hour of +parting came she must have lain sobbing and grieving on his bosom, +heedless of the tempest raging under the sullen sky, heedless of the +wind which snatches and bears away the tears from her black eyelashes? +Can all of that have been a dream—and that garden, dejected, +forsaken, run wild, with its little moss-grown paths, solitary, gloomy, +where they used to walk so happily together, where they hoped, grieved, +loved, loved each other so long, "so long and so fondly?" And that queer +ancestral house where she spent so many years lonely and sad with her +morose old husband, always silent and splenetic, who frightened them, +while timid as children they hid their love from each other? What +torments they suffered, what agonies of terror, how innocent, how pure +was their love, and how (I need hardly say, Nastenka) malicious people +were! And, good Heavens! surely he met her afterwards, far from their +native shores, under alien skies, in the hot south in the divinely +eternal city, in the dazzling splendour of the ball to the crash of +music, in a <i>palazzo</i> (it must be in a <i>palazzo</i>), drowned in +a sea of lights, on the balcony, wreathed in myrtle and roses, where, +recognizing him, she hurriedly removes her mask and whispering, 'I am +free,' flings herself trembling into his arms, and with a cry of +rapture, clinging to one another, in one instant they forget their +sorrow and their parting and all their agonies, and the gloomy house and +the old man and the dismal garden in that distant land, and the seat on +which with a last passionate kiss she tore herself away from his arms +numb with anguish and despair.... Oh, Nastenka, you must admit that one +would start, betray confusion, and blush like a schoolboy who has just +stuffed in his pocket an apple stolen from a neighbour's garden, when +your uninvited visitor, some stalwart, lanky fellow, a festive soul fond +of a joke, opens your door and shouts out as though nothing were +happening: 'My dear boy, I have this minute come from Pavlovsk.' My +goodness! the old count is dead, unutterable happiness is close at +hand—and people arrive from Pavlovsk!"</p> + +<p>Finishing my pathetic appeal, I paused pathetically. I remembered +that I had an intense desire to force myself to laugh, for I was already +feeling that a malignant demon was stirring within me, that there was a +lump in my throat, that my chin was beginning to twitch, and that my +eyes were growing more and more moist.</p> + +<p>I expected Nastenka, who listened to me opening her clever eyes, +would break into her childish, irrepressible laugh; and I was already +regretting that I had gone so far, that I had unnecessarily described +what had long been simmering in my heart, about which I could speak as +though from a written account of it, because I had long ago passed +judgment on myself and now could not resist reading it, making my +confession, without expecting to be understood; but to my surprise she +was silent, waiting a little, then she faintly pressed my hand and with +timid sympathy asked—</p> + +<p>"Surely you haven't lived like that all your life?"</p> + +<p>"All my life, Nastenka," I answered; "all my life, and it seems to me +I shall go on so to the end." </p> + +<p>"No, that won't do," she said uneasily, "that must not be; and so, +maybe, I shall spend all my life beside grandmother. Do you know, it is +not at all good to live like that?"</p> + +<p>"I know, Nastenka, I know!" I cried, unable to restrain my feelings +longer. "And I realize now, more than ever, that I have lost all my best +years! And now I know it and feel it more painfully from recognizing +that God has sent me you, my good angel, to tell me that and show it. +Now that I sit beside you and talk to you it is strange for me to think +of the future, for in the future—there is loneliness again, again +this musty, useless life; and what shall I have to dream of when I have +been so happy in reality beside you! Oh, may you be blessed, dear girl, +for not having repulsed me at first, for enabling me to say that for two +evenings, at least, I have lived."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, no!" cried Nastenka and tears glistened in her eyes. "No, it +mustn't be so any more; we must not part like that! what are two +evenings?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Nastenka, Nastenka! Do you know how far you have reconciled me +to myself? Do you know now that I shall not think so ill of myself, as I +have at some moments? Do you know that, maybe, I shall leave off +grieving over the crime and sin of my life? for such a life is a crime +and a sin. And do not imagine that I have been exaggerating +anything—for goodness' sake don't think that, Nastenka: for at +times such misery comes over me, such misery.... Because it begins to +seem to me at such times that I am incapable of beginning a life in real +life, because it has seemed to me that I have lost all touch, all +instinct for the actual, the real; because at last I have cursed myself; +because after my fantastic nights I have moments of returning sobriety, +which are awful! Meanwhile, you hear the whirl and roar of the crowd in +the vortex of life around you; you hear, you see, men living in reality; +you see that life for them is not forbidden, that their life does not +float away like a dream, like a vision; that their life is being +eternally renewed, eternally youthful, and not one hour of it is the +same as another; while fancy is so spiritless, monotonous to vulgarity +and easily scared, the slave of shadows, of the idea, the slave of the +first cloud that shrouds the sun, and overcasts with depression the true +Petersburg heart so devoted to the sun—and what is fancy in +depression! One feels that this <i>inexhaustible</i> fancy is weary at +last and worn out with continual exercise, because one is growing into +manhood, outgrowing one's old ideals: they are being shattered into +fragments, into dust; if there is no other life one must build one up +from the fragments. And meanwhile the soul longs and craves for +something else! And in vain the dreamer rakes over his old dreams, as +though seeking a spark among the embers, to fan them into flame, to warm +his chilled heart by the rekindled fire, and to rouse up in it again all +that was so sweet, that touched his heart, that set his blood boiling, +drew tears from his eyes, and so luxuriously deceived him! Do you know, +Nastenka, the point I have reached? Do you know that I am forced now to +celebrate the anniversary of my own sensations, the anniversary of that +which was once so sweet, which never existed in reality—for this +anniversary is kept in memory of those same foolish, shadowy +dreams—and to do this because those foolish dreams are no more, +because I have nothing to earn them with; you know even dreams do not +come for nothing! Do you know that I love now to recall and visit at +certain dates the places where I was once happy in my own way? I love to +build up my present in harmony with the irrevocable past, and I often +wander like a shadow, aimless, sad and dejected, about the streets and +crooked lanes of Petersburg. What memories they are! To remember, for +instance, that here just a year ago, just at this time, at this hour, on +this pavement, I wandered just as lonely, just as dejected as to-day. +And one remembers that then one's dreams were sad, and though the past +was no better one feels as though it had somehow been better, and that +life was more peaceful, that one was free from the black thoughts that +haunt one now; that one was free from the gnawing of +conscience—the gloomy, sullen gnawing which now gives me no rest +by day or by night. And one asks oneself where are one's dreams. And one +shakes one's head and says how rapidly the years fly by! And again one +asks oneself what has one done with one's years. Where have you buried +your best days? Have you lived or not? Look, one says to oneself, look +how cold the world is growing. Some more years will pass, and after them +will come gloomy solitude; then will come old age trembling on its +crutch, and after it misery and desolation. Your fantastic world will +grow pale, your dreams will fade and die and will fall like the yellow +leaves from the trees.... Oh, Nastenka! you know it will be sad to be +left alone, utterly alone, and to have not even anything to +regret—nothing, absolutely nothing ... for all that you have lost, +all that, all was nothing, stupid, simple nullity, there has been +nothing but dreams!"</p> + +<p>"Come, don't work on my feelings any more," said Nastenka, wiping +away a tear which was trickling down her cheek. "Now it's over! Now we +shall be two together. Now, whatever happens to me, we will never part. +Listen; I am a simple girl, I have not had much education, though +grandmother did get a teacher for me, but truly I understand you, for +all that you have described I have been through myself, when grandmother +pinned me to her dress. Of course, I should not have described it so +well as you have; I am not educated," she added timidly, for she was +still feeling a sort of respect for my pathetic eloquence and lofty +style; "but I am very glad that you have been quite open with me. Now I +know you thoroughly, all of you. And do you know what? I want to tell +you my history too, all without concealment, and after that you must +give me advice. You are a very clever man; will you promise to give me +advice?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, Nastenka," I cried, "though I have never given advice, still +less sensible advice, yet I see now that if we always go on like this +that it will be very sensible, and that each of us will give the other a +great deal of sensible advice! Well, my pretty Nastenka, what sort of +advice do you want? Tell me frankly; at this moment I am so gay and +happy, so bold and sensible, that it won't be difficult for me to find +words."</p> + +<p>"No, no!" Nastenka interrupted, laughing. "I don't only want sensible +advice, I want warm brotherly advice, as though you had been fond of me +all your life!"</p> + +<p>"Agreed, Nastenka, agreed!" I cried delighted; "and if I had been +fond of you for twenty years, I couldn't have been fonder of you than I +am now."</p> + +<p>"Your hand," said Nastenka.</p> + +<p>"Here it is," said I, giving her my hand.</p> + +<p>"And so let us begin my history!"</p> + +<p class="p4 center"><span class="smcap">Nastenka's History</span></p> + +<p class="p2">"Half my story you know already—that is, you know +that I have an old grandmother...." </p> + +<p>"If the other half is as brief as that ..." I interrupted, +laughing.</p> + +<p>"Be quiet and listen. First of all you must agree not to interrupt +me, or else, perhaps I shall get in a muddle! Come, listen quietly.</p> + +<p>"I have an old grandmother. I came into her hands when I was quite a +little girl, for my father and mother are dead. It must be supposed that +grandmother was once richer, for now she recalls better days. She taught +me French, and then got a teacher for me. When I was fifteen (and now I +am seventeen) we gave up having lessons. It was at that time that I got +into mischief; what I did I won't tell you; it's enough to say that it +wasn't very important. But grandmother called me to her one morning and +said that as she was blind she could not look after me; she took a pin +and pinned my dress to hers, and said that we should sit like that for +the rest of our lives if, of course, I did not become a better girl. In +fact, at first it was impossible to get away from her: I had to work, to +read and to study all beside grandmother. I tried to deceive her once, +and persuaded Fekla to sit in my place. Fekla is our charwoman, she is +deaf. Fekla sat there instead of me; grandmother was asleep in her +armchair at the time, and I went off to see a friend close by. Well, it +ended in trouble. Grandmother woke up while I was out, and asked some +questions; she thought I was still sitting quietly in my place. Fekla +saw that grandmother was asking her something, but could not tell what +it was; she wondered what to do, undid the pin and ran away...."</p> + +<p>At this point Nastenka stopped and began laughing. I laughed with +her. She left off at once.</p> + +<p>"I tell you what, don't you laugh at grandmother. I laugh because +it's funny.... What can I do, since grandmother is like that; but yet I +am fond of her in a way. Oh, well, I did catch it that time. I had to +sit down in my place at once, and after that I was not allowed to +stir.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I forgot to tell you that our house belongs to us, that is to +grandmother; it is a little wooden house with three windows as old as +grandmother herself, with a little upper storey; well, there moved into +our upper storey a new lodger."</p> + +<p>"Then you had an old lodger," I observed casually.</p> + +<p>"Yes, of course," answered Nastenka, "and one who knew how to hold +his tongue better than you do. In fact, he hardly ever used his tongue +at all. He was a dumb, blind, lame, dried-up little old man, so that at +last he could not go on living, he died; so then we had to find a new +lodger, for we could not live without a lodger—the rent, together +with grandmother's pension, is almost all we have. But the new lodger, +as luck would have it, was a young man, a stranger not of these parts. +As he did not haggle over the rent, grandmother accepted him, and only +afterwards she asked me: 'Tell me, Nastenka, what is our lodger +like—is he young or old?' I did not want to lie, so I told +grandmother that he wasn't exactly young and that he wasn't old.</p> + +<p>"'And is he pleasant looking?' asked grandmother.</p> + +<p>"Again I did not want to tell a lie: 'Yes, he is pleasant looking, +grandmother,' I said. And grandmother said: 'Oh, what a nuisance, what a +nuisance! I tell you this, <ins title="'grandchlid' in the +original">grandchild</ins>, that you may not be looking after him. What +times these are! Why a paltry lodger like this, and he must be pleasant +looking too; it was very different in the old days!'"</p> + +<p>"Grandmother was always regretting the old days—she was younger +in old days, and the sun was warmer in old days, and cream did not turn +so sour in old days—it was always the old days! I would sit still +and hold my tongue and think to myself: why did grandmother suggest it +to me? Why did she ask whether the lodger was young and good-looking? +But that was all, I just thought it, began counting my stitches again, +went on knitting my stocking, and forgot all about it.</p> + +<p>"Well, one morning the lodger came in to see us; he asked about a +promise to paper his rooms. One thing led to another. Grandmother was +talkative, and she said: 'Go, Nastenka, into my bedroom and bring me my +reckoner.' I jumped up at once; I blushed all over, I don't know why, +and forgot I was sitting pinned to grandmother; instead of quietly +undoing the pin, so that the lodger should not see—I jumped so +that grandmother's chair moved. When I saw that the lodger knew all +about me now, I blushed, stood still as though I had been shot, and +suddenly began to cry—I felt so ashamed and miserable at that +minute, that I didn't know where to look! Grandmother called out, 'What +are you waiting for?' and I went on worse than ever. When the lodger +saw, saw that I was ashamed on his account, he bowed and went away at +once!</p> + +<p>"After that I felt ready to die at the least sound in the passage. +'It's the lodger,' I kept thinking; I stealthily undid the pin in case. +But it always turned out not to be, he never came. A fortnight passed; +the lodger sent word through Fyokla that he had a great number of French +books, and that they were all good books that I might read, so would not +grandmother like me to read them that I might not be dull? Grandmother +agreed with gratitude, but kept asking if they were moral books, for if +the books were immoral it would be out of the question, one would learn +evil from them."</p> + +<p>"'And what should I learn, grandmother? What is there written in +them?'</p> + +<p>"'Ah,' she said, 'what's described in them, is how young men seduce +virtuous girls; how, on the excuse that they want to marry them, they +carry them off from their parents' houses; how afterwards they leave +these unhappy girls to their fate, and they perish in the most pitiful +way. I read a great many books,' said grandmother, 'and it is all so +well described that one sits up all night and reads them on the sly. So +mind you don't read them, Nastenka,' said she. 'What books has he +sent?'</p> + +<p>"'They are all Walter Scott's novels, grandmother.'</p> + +<p>"'Walter Scott's novels! But stay, isn't there some trick about it? +Look, hasn't he stuck a love-letter among them?'</p> + +<p>"'No, grandmother,' I said, 'there isn't a love-letter.'</p> + +<p>"'But look under the binding; they sometimes stuff it under the +bindings, the rascals!'</p> + +<p>"'No, grandmother, there is nothing under the binding.'</p> + +<p>"'Well, that's all right.'</p> + +<p>"So we began reading Walter Scott, and in a month or so we had read +almost half. Then he sent us more and more. He sent us Pushkin, too; so +that at last I could not get on without a book and left off dreaming of +how fine it would be to marry a Chinese Prince.</p> + +<p>"That's how things were when I chanced one day to meet our lodger on +the stairs. Grandmother had sent me to fetch something. He stopped, I +blushed and he blushed; he laughed, though, said good-morning to me, +asked after grandmother, and said, 'Well, have you read the books?' I +answered that I had. 'Which did you like best?' he asked. I said, +'Ivanhoe, and Pushkin best of all,' and so our talk ended for that +time.</p> + +<p>"A week later I met him again on the stairs. That time grandmother +had not sent me, I wanted to get something for myself. It was past two, +and the lodger used to come home at that time. 'Good-afternoon,' said +he. I said good-afternoon, too.</p> + +<p>"'Aren't you dull,' he said, 'sitting all day with your +grandmother?'</p> + +<p>"When he asked that, I blushed, I don't know why; I felt ashamed, and +again I felt offended—I suppose because other people had begun to +ask me about that. I wanted to go away without answering, but I hadn't +the strength.</p> + +<p>"'Listen,' he said, 'you are a good girl. Excuse my speaking to you +like that, but I assure you that I wish for your welfare quite as much +as your grandmother. Have you no friends that you could go and +visit?'</p> + +<p>"I told him I hadn't any, that I had had no friend but Mashenka, and +she had gone away to Pskov.</p> + +<p>"'Listen,' he said, 'would you like to go to the theatre with +me?'</p> + +<p>"'To the theatre. What about grandmother?'</p> + +<p>"'But you must go without your grandmother's knowing it,' he +said.</p> + +<p>"'No,' I said, 'I don't want to deceive grandmother. Good-bye.'</p> + +<p>"'Well, good-bye,' he answered, and said nothing more.</p> + +<p>"Only after dinner he came to see us; sat a long time talking to +grandmother; asked her whether she ever went out anywhere, whether she +had acquaintances, and suddenly said: 'I have taken a box at the opera +for this evening; they are giving <i>The Barber of Seville</i>. My +friends meant to go, but afterwards refused, so the ticket is left on my +hands.' '<i>The Barber of Seville</i>,' cried grandmother; 'why, the +same they used to act in old days?'</p> + +<p>"'Yes, it's the same barber,' he said, and glanced at me. I saw what +it meant and turned crimson, and my heart began throbbing with +suspense.</p> + +<p>"'To be sure, I know it,' said grandmother; 'why, I took the part of +Rosina myself in old days, at a private performance!' </p> + +<p>"'So wouldn't you like to go to-day?' said the lodger. 'Or my ticket +will be wasted.'</p> + +<p>"'By all means let us go,' said grandmother; why shouldn't we? And my +Nastenka here has never been to the theatre.'</p> + +<p>"My goodness, what joy! We got ready at once, put on our best +clothes, and set off. Though grandmother was blind, still she wanted to +hear the music; besides, she is a kind old soul, what she cared most for +was to amuse me, we should never have gone of ourselves.</p> + +<p>"What my impressions of <i>The Barber of Seville</i> were I won't +tell you; but all that evening our lodger looked at me so nicely, talked +so nicely, that I saw at once that he had meant to test me in the +morning when he proposed that I should go with him alone. Well, it was +joy! I went to bed so proud, so gay, my heart beat so that I was a +little feverish, and all night I was raving about <i>The Barber of +Seville</i>.</p> + +<p>"I expected that he would come and see us more and more often after +that, but it wasn't so at all. He almost entirely gave up coming. He +would just come in about once a month, and then only to invite us to the +theatre. We went twice again. Only I wasn't at all pleased with that; I +saw that he was simply sorry for me because I was so hardly treated by +grandmother, and that was all. As time went on, I grew more and more +restless, I couldn't sit still, I couldn't read, I couldn't work; +sometimes I laughed and did something to annoy grandmother, at another +time I would cry. At last I grew thin and was very nearly ill. The opera +season was over, and our lodger had quite given up coming to see us; +whenever we met—always on the same staircase, of course—he +would bow so silently, so gravely, as though he did not want to speak, +and go down to the front door, while I went on standing in the middle of +the stairs, as red as a cherry, for all the blood rushed to my head at +the sight of him.</p> + +<p>"Now the end is near. Just a year ago, in May, the lodger came to us +and said to grandmother that he had finished his business here, and that +he must go back to Moscow for a year. When I heard that, I sank into a +chair half dead; grandmother did not notice anything; and having +informed us that he should be leaving us, he bowed and went away.</p> + +<p>"What was I to do? I thought and thought and fretted and fretted, and +at last I made up my mind. Next day he was to go away, and I made up my +mind to end it all that evening when grandmother went to bed. And so it +happened. I made up all my clothes in a parcel—all the linen I +needed—and with the parcel in my hand, more dead than alive, went +upstairs to our lodger. I believe I must have stayed an hour on the +staircase. When I opened his door he cried out as he looked at me. He +thought I was a ghost, and rushed to give me some water, for I could +hardly stand up. My heart beat so violently that my head ached, and I +did not know what I was doing. When I recovered I began by laying my +parcel on his bed, sat down beside it, hid my face in my hands and went +into floods of tears. I think he understood it all at once, and looked +at me so sadly that my heart was torn.</p> + +<p>"'Listen,' he began, 'listen, Nastenka, I can't do anything; I am a +poor man, for I have nothing, not even a decent berth. How could we +live, if I were to marry you?'</p> + +<p>"We talked a long time; but at last I got quite frantic, I said I +could not go on living with grandmother, that I should run away from +her, that I did not want to be pinned to her, and that I would go to +Moscow if he liked, because I could not live without him. Shame and +pride and love were all clamouring in me at once, and I fell on the bed +almost in convulsions, I was so afraid of a refusal.</p> + +<p>"He sat for some minutes in silence, then got up, came up to me and +took me by the hand.</p> + +<p>"'Listen, my dear good Nastenka, listen; I swear to you that if I am +ever in a position to marry, you shall make my happiness. I assure you +that now you are the only one who could make me happy. Listen, I am +going to Moscow and shall be there just a year; I hope to establish my +position. When I come back, if you still love me, I swear that we will +be happy. Now it is impossible, I am not able, I have not the right to +promise anything. Well, I repeat, if it is not within a year it will +certainly be some time; that is, of course, if you do not prefer any one +else, for I cannot and dare not bind you by any sort of promise.'</p> + +<p>"That was what he said to me, and next day he went away. We agreed +together not to say a word to grandmother: that was his wish. Well, my +history is nearly finished now. Just a year has past. He has arrived; he +has been here three days, and, and</p> + +<p>"And what?" I cried, impatient to hear the end.</p> + +<p>"And up to now has not shown himself!" answered Nastenka, as though +screwing up all her courage. "There's no sign or sound of him."</p> + +<p>Here she stopped, paused for a minute, bent her head, and covering +her face with her hands broke into such sobs that it sent a pang to my +heart to hear them. I had not in the least expected such a +<i>dénouement</i>.</p> + +<p>"Nastenka," I began timidly in an ingratiating voice, "Nastenka! For +goodness' sake don't cry! How do you know? Perhaps he is not here +yet...."</p> + +<p>"He is, he is," Nastenka repeated. "He is here, and I know it. We +<i>made an agreement</i> at the time, that evening, before he went away: +when we said all that I have told you, and had come to an understanding, +then we came out here for a walk on this embankment. It was ten o'clock; +we sat on this seat. I was not crying then; it was sweet to me to hear +what he said.... And he said that he would come to us directly he +arrived, and if I did not refuse him, then we would tell grandmother +about it all. Now he is here, I know it, and yet he does not come!"</p> + +<p>And again she burst into tears.</p> + +<p>"Good God, can I do nothing to help you in your sorrow?" I cried +jumping up from the seat in utter despair. "Tell me, Nastenka, wouldn't +it be possible for me to go to him?"</p> + +<p>"Would that be possible?" she asked suddenly, raising her head.</p> + +<p>"No, of course not," I said pulling myself up; "but I tell you what, +write a letter."</p> + +<p>"No, that's impossible, I can't do that," she answered with decision, +bending her head and not looking at me.</p> + +<p>"How impossible—why is it impossible?" I went on, clinging to +my idea. "But, Nastenka, it depends what sort of letter; there are +letters and letters and.... Ah, Nastenka, I am right; trust to me, trust +to me, I will not give you bad advice. It can all be arranged! You took +the first step—why not now?"</p> + +<p>"I can't. I can't! It would seem as though I were forcing myself on +him...."</p> + +<p>"Ah, my good little Nastenka," I said, hardly able to conceal a +smile; "no, no, you have a right to, in fact, because he made you a +promise. Besides, I can see from everything that he is a man of delicate +feeling; that he behaved very well," I went on, more and more carried +away by the logic of my own arguments and convictions. "How did he +behave? He bound himself by a promise: he said that if he married at all +he would marry no one but you; he gave you full liberty to refuse him at +once.... Under such circumstances you may take the first step; you have +the right; you are in the privileged position—if, for instance, +you wanted to free him from his promise...."</p> + +<p>"Listen; how would you write?"</p> + +<p>"Write what?"</p> + +<p>"This letter."</p> + +<p>"I tell you how I would write: 'Dear Sir.'..."</p> + +<p>"Must I really begin like that, 'Dear Sir'?"</p> + +<p>"You certainly must! Though, after all, I don't know, I +imagine...."</p> + +<p>"Well, well, what next?"</p> + +<p>"'Dear Sir,—I must apologize for——' But, no, +there's no need to apologize; the fact itself justifies everything. +Write simply:—</p> + +<p class="blockquote">"'I am writing to you. Forgive me my impatience; +but I have been happy for a whole year in hope; am I to blame for being +unable to endure a day of doubt now? Now that you have come, perhaps you +have changed your mind. If so, this letter is to tell you that I do not +repine, nor blame you. I do not blame you because I have no power over +your heart, such is my fate!</p> + +<p class="blockquote">"'You are an honourable man. You will not smile or +be vexed at these impatient lines. Remember they are written by a poor +girl; that she is alone; that she has no one to direct her, no one to +advise her, and that she herself could never control her heart. But +forgive me that a doubt has stolen—if only for one +instant—into my heart. You are not capable of insulting, even in +thought, her who so loved and so loves you.'"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes; that's exactly what I was thinking!" cried Nastenka, and +her eyes beamed with delight. "Oh, you have solved my difficulties: God +has sent you to me! Thank you, thank you!"</p> + +<p>"What for? What for? For God's sending me?" I answered, looking +delighted at her joyful little face. "Why, yes; for that too."</p> + +<p>"Ah, Nastenka! Why, one thanks some people for being alive at the +same time with one; I thank you for having met me, for my being able to +remember you all my life!"</p> + +<p>"Well, enough, enough! But now I tell you what, listen: we made an +agreement then that as soon as he arrived he would let me know, by +leaving a letter with some good simple people of my acquaintance who +know nothing about it; or, if it were impossible to write a letter to +me, for a letter does not always tell everything, he would be here at +ten o'clock on the day he arrived, where we had arranged to meet. I know +he has arrived already; but now it's the third day, and there's no sign +of him and no letter. It's impossible for me to get away from +grandmother in the morning. Give my letter to-morrow to those kind +people I spoke to you about: they will send it on to him, and if there +is an answer you bring it to-morrow at ten o'clock."</p> + +<p>"But the letter, the letter! You see, you must write the letter +first! So perhaps it must all be the day after to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"The letter ..." said Nastenka, a little confused, "the letter ... +but...."</p> + +<p>But she did not finish. At first she turned her little face away from +me, flushed like a rose, and suddenly I felt in my hand a letter which +had evidently been written long before, all ready and sealed up. A +familiar sweet and charming reminiscence floated through my mind.</p> + +<p>"R, o—Ro; s, i—si; n, a—na," I began.</p> + +<p>"Rosina!" we both hummed together; I almost embracing her with +delight, while she blushed as only she could blush, and laughed through +the tears which gleamed like pearls on her black eyelashes.</p> + +<p>"Come, enough, enough! Good-bye now," she said speaking rapidly. +"Here is the letter, here is the address to which you are to take it. +Good-bye, till we meet again! Till to-morrow!"</p> + +<p>She pressed both my hands warmly, nodded her head, and flew like an +arrow down her side street. I stood still for a long time following her +with my eyes.</p> + +<p>"Till to-morrow! till to-morrow!" was ringing in my ears as she +vanished from my sight.</p> + +<p class="p4 center">THIRD NIGHT</p> + +<p class="p2">To-day was a gloomy, rainy day without a glimmer of +sunlight, like the old age before me. I am oppressed by such strange +thoughts, such gloomy sensations; questions still so obscure to me are +crowding into my brain—and I seem to have neither power nor will +to settle them. It's not for me to settle all this!</p> + +<p>To-day we shall not meet. Yesterday, when we said good-bye, the +clouds began gathering over the sky and a mist rose. I said that +to-morrow it would be a bad day; she made no answer, she did not want to +speak against her wishes; for her that day was bright and clear, not one +cloud should obscure her happiness.</p> + +<p>"If it rains we shall not see each other," she said, "I shall not +come."</p> + +<p>I thought that she would not notice to-day's rain, and yet she has +not come.</p> + +<p>Yesterday was our third interview, our third white night....</p> + +<p>But how fine joy and happiness makes any one! How brimming over with +love the heart is! One seems longing to pour out one's whole heart; one +wants everything to be gay, everything to be laughing. And how +infectious that joy is! There was such a softness in her words, such a +kindly feeling in her heart towards me yesterday.... How solicitous and +friendly she was; how tenderly she tried to give me courage! Oh, the +coquetry of happiness! While I ... I took it all for the genuine thing, +I thought that she....</p> + +<p>But, my God, how could I have thought it? How could I have been so +blind, when everything had been taken by another already, when nothing +was mine; when, in fact, her very tenderness to me, her anxiety, her +love ... yes, love for me, was nothing else but joy at the thought of +seeing another man so soon, desire to include me, too, in her +happiness?... When he did not come, when we waited in vain, she frowned, +she grew timid and discouraged. Her movements, her words, were no longer +so light, so playful, so gay; and, strange to say, she redoubled her +attentiveness to me, as though instinctively desiring to lavish on me +what she desired for herself so anxiously, if her wishes were not +accomplished. My Nastenka was so downcast, so dismayed, that I think she +realized at last that I loved her, and was sorry for my poor love. So +when we are unhappy we feel the unhappiness of others more; feeling is +not destroyed but concentrated....</p> + +<p>I went to meet her with a full heart, and was all impatience. I had +no presentiment that I should feel as I do now, that it would not all +end happily. She was beaming with pleasure; she was expecting an answer. +The answer was himself. He was to come, to run at her call. She arrived +a whole hour before I did. At first she giggled at everything, laughed +at every word I said. I began talking, but relapsed into silence.</p> + +<p>"Do you know why I am so glad," she said, "so glad to look at +you?—why I like you so much to-day?"</p> + +<p>"Well?" I asked, and my heart began throbbing.</p> + +<p>"I like you because you have not fallen in love with me. You know +that some men in your place would have been pestering and worrying me, +would have been sighing and miserable, while you are so nice!"</p> + +<p>Then she wrung my hand so hard that I almost cried out. She +laughed.</p> + +<p>"Goodness, what a friend you are!" she began gravely a minute later. +"God sent you to me. What would have happened to me if you had not been +with me now? How disinterested you are! How truly you care for me! When +I am married we will be great friends, more than brother and sister; I +shall care almost as I do for him...."</p> + +<p>I felt horribly sad at that moment, yet something like laughter was +stirring in my soul.</p> + +<p>"You are very much upset," I said; "you are frightened; you think he +won't come."</p> + +<p>"Oh dear!" she answered; "if I were less happy, I believe I should +cry at your lack of faith, at your reproaches. However, you have made me +think and have given me a lot to think about; but I shall think later, +and now I will own that you are right. Yes, I am somehow not myself; I +am all suspense, and feel everything as it were too lightly. But hush! +that's enough about feelings...."</p> + +<p>At that moment we heard footsteps, and in the darkness we saw a +figure coming towards us. We both started; she almost cried out; I +dropped her hand and made a movement as though to walk away. But we were +mistaken, it was not he.</p> + +<p>"What are you afraid of? Why did you let go of my hand?" she said, +giving it to me again. "Come, what is it? We will meet him together; I +want him to see how fond we are of each other."</p> + +<p>"How fond we are of each other!" I cried. ("Oh, Nastenka, Nastenka," +I thought, "how much you have told me in that saying! Such fondness at +<i>certain</i> moments makes the heart cold and the soul heavy. Your +hand is cold, mine burns like fire. How blind you are, Nastenka!... Oh, +how unbearable a happy person is sometimes! But I could not be angry +with you!")</p> + +<p>At last my heart was too full.</p> + +<p>"Listen, Nastenka!" I cried. "Do you know how it has been with me all +day."</p> + +<p>"Why, how, how? Tell me quickly! Why have you said nothing all this +time?"</p> + +<p>"To begin with, Nastenka, when I had carried out all your +commissions, given the letter, gone to see your good friends, then ... +then I went home and went to bed."</p> + +<p>"Is that all?" she interrupted, laughing.</p> + +<p>"Yes, almost all," I answered restraining myself, for foolish tears +were already starting into my eyes. "I woke an hour before our +appointment, and yet, as it were, I had not been asleep. I don't know +what happened to me. I came to tell you all about it, feeling as though +time were standing still, feeling as though one sensation, one feeling +must remain with me from that time for ever; feeling as though one +minute must go on for all eternity, and as though all life had come to a +standstill for me.... When I woke up it seemed as though some musical +motive long familiar, heard somewhere in the past, forgotten and +voluptuously sweet, had come back to me now. It seemed to me that it had +been clamouring at my heart all my life, and only now...."</p> + +<p>"Oh my goodness, my goodness," Nastenka interrupted, "what does all +that mean? I don't understand a word."</p> + +<p>"Ah, Nastenka, I wanted somehow to convey to you that strange +impression...." I began in a plaintive voice, in which there still lay +hid a hope, though a very faint one.</p> + +<p>"Leave off. Hush!" she said, and in one instant the sly puss had +guessed.</p> + +<p>Suddenly she became extraordinarily talkative, gay, mischievous; she +took my arm, laughed, wanted me to laugh too, and every confused word I +uttered evoked from her prolonged ringing laughter.... I began to feel +angry, she had suddenly begun flirting.</p> + +<p>"Do you know," she began, "I feel a little vexed that you are not in +love with me? There's no understanding human nature! But all the same, +Mr. Unapproachable, you cannot blame me for being so simple; I tell you +everything, everything, whatever foolish thought comes into my +head."</p> + +<p>"Listen! That's eleven, I believe," I said as the slow chime of a +bell rang out from a distant tower. She suddenly stopped, left off +laughing and began to count.</p> + +<p>"Yes, it's eleven," she said at last in a timid, uncertain voice.</p> + +<p>I regretted at once that I had frightened her, making her count the +strokes, and I cursed myself for my spiteful impulse; I felt sorry for +her, and did not know how to atone for what I had done.</p> + +<p>I began comforting her, seeking for reasons for his not coming, +advancing various arguments, proofs. No one could have been easier to +deceive than she was at that moment; and, indeed, any one at such a +moment listens gladly to any consolation, whatever it may be, and is +overjoyed if a shadow of excuse can be found.</p> + +<p>"And indeed it's an absurd thing," I began, warming to my task and +admiring the extraordinary clearness of my argument, "why, he could not +have come; you have muddled and confused me, Nastenka, so that I too, +have lost count of the time.... Only think: he can scarcely have +received the letter; suppose he is not able to come, suppose he is going +to answer the letter, could not come before to-morrow. I will go for it +as soon as it's light to-morrow and let you know at once. Consider, +there are thousands of possibilities; perhaps he was not at home when +the letter came, and may not have read it even now! Anything may happen, +you know."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes!" said Nastenka. "I did not think of that. Of course +anything may happen?" she went on in a tone that offered no opposition, +though some other far-away thought could be heard like a vexatious +discord in it. "I tell you what you must do," she said, "you go as early +as possible to-morrow morning, and if you get anything let me know at +once. You know where I live, don't you?"</p> + +<p>And she began repeating her address to me.</p> + +<p>Then she suddenly became so tender, so solicitous with me. She seemed +to listen attentively to what I told her; but when I asked her some +question she was silent, was confused, and turned her head away. I +looked into her eyes—yes, she was crying.</p> + +<p>"How can you? How can you? Oh, what a baby you are! what +childishness!... Come, come!"</p> + +<p>She tried to smile, to calm herself, but her chin was quivering and +her bosom was still heaving.</p> + +<p>"I was thinking about you," she said after a minute's silence. "You +are so kind that I should be a stone if I did not feel it. Do you know +what has occurred to me now? I was comparing you two. Why isn't he you? +Why isn't he like you? He is not as good as you, though I love him more +than you."</p> + +<p>I made no answer. She seemed to expect me to say something.</p> + +<p>"Of course, it may be that I don't understand him fully yet. You know +I was always as it were afraid of him; he was always so grave, as it +were so proud. Of course I know it's only that he seems like that, I +know there is more tenderness in his heart than in mine.... I remember +how he looked at me when I went in to him—do you +remember?—with my bundle; but yet I respect him too much, and +doesn't that show that we are not equals?"</p> + +<p>"No, Nastenka, no," I answered, "it shows that you love him more than +anything in the world, and far more than yourself."</p> + +<p>"Yes, supposing that is so," answered Nastenka naïvely. "But do you +know what strikes me now? Only I am not talking about him now, but +speaking generally; all this came into my mind some time ago. Tell me, +how is it that we can't all be like brothers together? Why is it that +even the best of men always seem to hide something from other people and +to keep something back? Why not say straight out what is in one's heart, +when one knows that one is not speaking idly? As it is every one seems +harsher than he really is, as though all were afraid of doing injustice +to their feelings, by being too quick to express them."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Nastenka, what you say is true; but there are many reasons for +that," I broke in suppressing my own feelings at that moment more than +ever.</p> + +<p>"No, no!" she answered with deep feeling. "Here you, for instance, +are not like other people! I really don't know how to tell you what I +feel; but it seems to me that you, for instance ... at the present +moment ... it seems to me that you are sacrificing something for me," +she added timidly, with a fleeting glance at me. "Forgive me for saying +so, I am a simple girl you know. I have seen very little of life, and I +really sometimes don't know how to say things," she added in a voice +that quivered with some hidden feeling, while she tried to smile; "but I +only wanted to tell you that I am grateful, that I feel it all too.... +Oh, may God give you happiness for it! What you told me about your +dreamer is quite untrue now—that is, I mean, it's not true of you. +You are recovering, you are quite a different man from what you +described. If you ever fall in love with some one, God give you +happiness with her! I won't wish anything for her, for she will be happy +with you. I know, I am a woman myself, so you must believe me when I +tell you so."</p> + +<p>She ceased speaking, and pressed my hand warmly. I too could not +speak without emotion. Some minutes passed.</p> + +<p>"Yes, it's clear he won't come to-night," she said at last raising +her head. "It's late."</p> + +<p>"He will come to-morrow," I said in the most firm and convincing +tone.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she added with no sign of her former depression. "I see for +myself now that he could not come till to-morrow. Well, good-bye, till +to-morrow. If it rains perhaps I shall not come. But the day after +to-morrow, I shall come. I shall come for certain, whatever happens; be +sure to be here, I want to see you, I will tell you everything."</p> + +<p>And then when we parted she gave me her hand and said, looking at me +candidly: "We shall always be together, shan't we?"</p> + +<p>Oh, Nastenka, Nastenka! If only you knew how lonely I am now!</p> + +<p>As soon as it struck nine o'clock I could not stay indoors, but put +on my things, and went out in spite of the weather. I was there, sitting +on our seat. I went to her street, but I felt ashamed, and turned back +without looking at their windows, when I was two steps from her door. I +went home more depressed than I had ever been before. What a damp, +dreary day! If it had been fine I should have walked about all +night....</p> + +<p>But to-morrow, to-morrow! To-morrow she will tell me everything. The +letter has not come to-day, however. But that was to be expected. They +are together by now....</p> + +<p class="p4 center">FOURTH NIGHT</p> + +<p class="p2">My God, how it has all ended! What it has all ended in! I +arrived at nine o'clock. She was already there. I noticed her a good way +off; she was standing as she had been that first time, with her elbows +on the railing, and she did not hear me coming up to her.</p> + +<p>"Nastenka!" I called to her, suppressing my agitation with an +effort.</p> + +<p>She turned to me quickly.</p> + +<p>"Well?" she said. "Well? Make haste!"</p> + +<p>I looked at her in perplexity.</p> + +<p>"Well, where is the letter? Have you brought the letter?" she +repeated clutching at the railing.</p> + +<p>"No, there is no letter," I said at last. "Hasn't he been to you +yet?" She turned fearfully pale and looked at me for a long time without +moving. I had shattered her last hope.</p> + +<p>"Well, God be with him," she said at last in a breaking voice; "God +be with him if he leaves me like that."</p> + +<p>She dropped her eyes, then tried to look at me and could not. For +several minutes she was struggling with her emotion. All at once she +turned away, leaning her elbows against the railing and burst into +tears.</p> + +<p>"Oh don't, don't!" I began; but looking at her I had not the heart to +go on, and what was I to say to her?</p> + +<p>"Don't try and comfort me," she said; "don't talk about him; don't +tell me that he will come, that he has not cast me off so cruelly and so +inhumanly as he has. What for—what for? Can there have been +something in my letter, that unlucky letter?"</p> + +<p>At that point sobs stifled her voice; my heart was torn as I looked +at her.</p> + +<p>"Oh, how inhumanly cruel it is!" she began again. "And not a line, +not a line! He might at least have written that he does not want me, +that he rejects me—but not a line for three days! How easy it is +for him to wound, to insult a poor, defenceless girl, whose only fault +is that she loves him! Oh, what I've suffered during these three days! +Oh, dear! When I think that I was the first to go to him, that I humbled +myself before him, cried, that I begged of him a little love!... and +after that! Listen," she said, turning to me, and her black eyes +flashed, "it isn't so! It can't be so; it isn't natural. Either you are +mistaken or I; perhaps he has not received the letter? Perhaps he still +knows nothing about it? How could any one—judge for yourself, tell +me, for goodness' sake explain it to me, I can't understand it—how +could any one behave with such barbarous coarseness as he has behaved to +me? Not one word! Why, the lowest creature on earth is treated more +compassionately. Perhaps he has heard something, perhaps some one has +told him something about me," she cried, turning to me inquiringly: +"What do you think?"</p> + +<p>"Listen, Nastenka, I shall go to him to-morrow in your name."</p> + +<p>"Yes?"</p> + +<p>"I will question him about everything; I will tell him +everything."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes?"</p> + +<p>"You write a letter. Don't say no, Nastenka, don't say no! I will +make him respect your action, he shall hear all about it, and +if——"</p> + +<p>"No, my friend, no," she interrupted. "Enough! Not another word, not +another line from me—enough! I don't know him; I don't love him +any more. I will ... forget him."</p> + +<p>She could not go on.</p> + +<p>"Calm yourself, calm yourself! Sit here, Nastenka," I said, making +her sit down on the seat.</p> + +<p>"I am calm. Don't trouble. It's nothing! It's only tears, they will +soon dry. Why, do you imagine I shall do away with myself, that I shall +throw myself into the river?"</p> + +<p>My heart was full: I tried to speak, but I could not.</p> + +<p>"Listen," she said taking my hand. "Tell me: you wouldn't have +behaved like this, would you? You would not have abandoned a girl who +had come to you of herself, you would not have thrown into her face a +shameless taunt at her weak foolish heart? You would have taken care of +her? You would have realized that she was alone, that she did not know +how to look after herself, that she could not guard herself from loving +you, that it was not her fault, not her fault—that she had done +nothing.... Oh dear, oh dear!"</p> + +<p>"Nastenka!" I cried at last, unable to control my emotion. "Nastenka, +you torture me! You wound my heart, you are killing me, Nastenka! I +cannot be silent! I must speak at last, give utterance to what is +surging in my heart!"</p> + +<p>As I said this I got up from the seat. She took my hand and looked at +me in surprise.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter with you?" she said at last.</p> + +<p>"Listen," I said resolutely. "Listen to me, Nastenka! What I am going +to say to you now is all nonsense, all impossible, all stupid! I know +that this can never be, but I cannot be silent. For the sake of what you +are suffering now, I beg you beforehand to forgive me!"</p> + +<p>"What is it? What is it?" she said drying her tears and looking at me +intently, while a strange curiosity gleamed in her astonished eyes. +"What is the matter?"</p> + +<p>"It's impossible, but I love you, Nastenka! There it is! Now +everything is told," I said with a wave of my hand. "Now you will see +whether you can go on talking to me as you did just now, whether you can +listen to what I am going to say to you."...</p> + +<p>"Well, what then?" Nastenka interrupted me. "What of it? I knew you +loved me long ago, only I always thought that you simply liked me very +much.... Oh dear, oh dear!"</p> + +<p>"At first it was simply liking, Nastenka, but now, now! I am just in +the same position as you were when you went to him with your bundle. In +a worse position than you, Nastenka, because he cared for no one else as +you do."</p> + +<p>"What are you saying to me! I don't understand you in the least. But +tell me, what's this for; I don't mean what for, but why are you ... so +suddenly.... Oh dear, I am talking nonsense! But you...."</p> + +<p>And Nastenka broke off in confusion. Her cheeks flamed; she dropped +her eyes.</p> + +<p>"What's to be done, Nastenka, what am I to do? I am to blame. I have +abused your.... But no, no, I am not to blame, Nastenka; I feel that, I +know that, because my heart tells me I am right, for I cannot hurt you +in any way, I cannot wound you! I was your friend, but I am still your +friend, I have betrayed no trust. Here my tears are falling, Nastenka. +Let them flow, let them flow—they don't hurt anybody. They will +dry, Nastenka."</p> + +<p>"Sit down, sit down," she said, making me sit down on the seat. "Oh, +my God!"</p> + +<p>"No, Nastenka, I won't sit down; I cannot stay here any longer, you +cannot see me again; I will tell you everything and go away. I only want +to say that you would never have found out that I loved you. I should +have kept my secret. I would not have worried you at such a moment with +my egoism. No! But I could not resist it now; you spoke of it yourself, +it is your fault, your fault and not mine. You cannot drive me away from +you."...</p> + +<p>"No, no, I don't drive you away, no!" said Nastenka, concealing her +confusion as best she could, poor child.</p> + +<p>"You don't drive me away? No! But I meant to run from you myself. I +will go away, but first I will tell you all, for when you were crying +here I could not sit unmoved, when you wept, when you were in torture at +being—at being—I will speak of it, Nastenka—at being +forsaken, at your love being repulsed, I felt that in my heart there was +so much love for you, Nastenka, so much love! And it seemed so bitter +that I could not help you with my love, that my heart was breaking and I +... I could not be silent, I had to speak, Nastenka, I had to +speak!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes! tell me, talk to me," said Nastenka with an indescribable +gesture. "Perhaps you think it strange that I talk to you like this, but +... speak! I will tell you afterwards! I will tell you everything."</p> + +<p>"You are sorry for me, Nastenka, you are simply sorry for me, my dear +little friend! What's done can't be mended. What is said cannot be taken +back. Isn't that so? Well, now you know. That's the starting-point. Very +well. Now it's all right, only listen. When you were sitting crying I +thought to myself (oh, let me tell you what I was thinking!), I thought, +that (of course it cannot be, Nastenka), I thought that you ... I +thought that you somehow ... quite apart from me, had ceased to love +him. Then—I thought that yesterday and the day before yesterday, +Nastenka—then I would—I certainly would—have succeeded +in making you love me; you know, you said yourself, Nastenka, that you +almost loved me. Well, what next? Well, that's nearly all I wanted to +tell you; all that is left to say is how it would be if you loved me, +only that, nothing more! Listen, my friend—for any way you are my +friend—I am, of course, a poor, humble man, of no great +consequence; but that's not the point (I don't seem to be able to say +what I mean, Nastenka, I am so confused), only I would love you, I would +love you so, that even if you still loved him, even if you went on +loving the man I don't know, you would never feel that my love was a +burden to you. You would only feel every minute that at your side was +beating a grateful, grateful heart, a warm heart ready for your sake.... +Oh Nastenka, Nastenka! What have you done to me?"</p> + +<p>"Don't cry; I don't want you to cry," said Nastenka getting up +quickly from the seat. "Come along, get up, come with me, don't cry, +don't cry," she said, drying her tears with her handkerchief; "let us go +now; maybe I will tell you something.... If he has forsaken me now, if +he has forgotten me, though I still love him (I do not want to deceive +you) ... but listen, answer me. If I were to love you, for instance, +that is, if I only.... Oh my friend, my friend! To think, to think how I +wounded you, when I laughed at your love, when I praised you for not +falling in love with me. Oh dear! How was it I did not foresee this, how +was it I did not foresee this, how could I have been so stupid? But.... +Well, I have made up my mind, I will tell you."</p> + +<p>"Look here, Nastenka, do you know what? I'll go away, that's what +I'll do. I am simply tormenting you. Here you are remorseful for having +laughed at me, and I won't have you ... in addition to your sorrow.... +Of course it is my fault, Nastenka, but good-bye!"</p> + +<p>"Stay, listen to me: can you wait?"</p> + +<p>"What for? How?"</p> + +<p>"I love him; but I shall get over it, I must get over it, I cannot +fail to get over it; I am getting over it, I feel that.... Who knows? +Perhaps it will all end to-day, for I hate him, for he has been laughing +at me, while you have been weeping here with me, for you have not +repulsed me as he has, for you love me while he has never loved me, for +in fact, I love you myself.... Yes, I love you! I love you as you love +me; I have told you so before, you heard it yourself—I love you +because you are better than he is, because you are nobler than he is, +because, because he——"</p> + +<p>The poor girl's emotion was so violent that she could not say more; +she laid her head upon my shoulder, then upon my bosom, and wept +bitterly. I comforted her, I persuaded her, but she could not stop +crying; she kept pressing my hand, and saying between her sobs: "Wait, +wait, it will be over in a minute! I want to tell you ... you mustn't +think that these tears—it's nothing, it's weakness, wait till it's +over."... At last she left off crying, dried her eyes and we walked on +again. I wanted to speak, but she still begged me to wait. We were +silent.... At last she plucked up courage and began to speak.</p> + +<p>"It's like this," she began in a weak and quivering voice, in which, +however, there was a note that pierced my heart with a sweet pang; +"don't think that I am so light and inconstant, don't think that I can +forget and change so quickly. I have loved him for a whole year, and I +swear by God that I have never, never, even in thought, been unfaithful +to him.... He has despised me, he has been laughing at me—God +forgive him! But he has insulted me and wounded my heart. I ... I do not +love him, for I can only love what is magnanimous, what understands me, +what is generous; for I am like that myself and he is not worthy of +me—well, that's enough of him. He has done better than if he had +deceived my expectations later, and shown me later what he was.... Well, +it's over! But who knows, my dear friend," she went on pressing my hand, +"who knows, perhaps my whole love was a mistaken feeling, a +delusion—perhaps it began in mischief, in nonsense, because I was +kept so strictly by grandmother? Perhaps I ought to love another man, +not him, a different man, who would have pity on me and ... and.... But +don't let us say any more about that," Nastenka broke off, breathless +with emotion, "I only wanted to tell you ... I wanted to tell you that +if, although I love him (no, did love him), if, in spite of this you +still say.... If you feel that your love is so great that it may at last +drive from my heart my old feeling—if you will have pity on +me—if you do not want to leave me alone to my fate, without hope, +without consolation—if you are ready to love me always as you do +now—I swear to you that gratitude ... that my love will be at last +worthy of your love.... Will you take my hand?"</p> + +<p>"Nastenka!" I cried breathless with sobs. "Nastenka, oh +Nastenka!"</p> + +<p>"Enough, enough! Well, now it's quite enough," she said, hardly able +to control herself. "Well, now all has been said, hasn't it! Hasn't it? +You are happy—I am happy too. Not another word about it, wait; +spare me ... talk of something else, for God's sake."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Nastenka, yes! Enough about that, now I am happy. +I—— Yes, Nastenka, yes, let us talk of other things, let us +make haste and talk. Yes! I am ready."</p> + +<p>And we did not know what to say: we laughed, we wept, we said +thousands of things meaningless and incoherent; at one moment we walked +along the pavement, then suddenly turned back and crossed the road; then +we stopped and went back again to the embankment; we were like +children.</p> + +<p>"I am living alone now, Nastenka," I began, "but to-morrow! Of course +you know, Nastenka, I am poor, I have only got twelve hundred roubles, +but that doesn't matter."</p> + +<p>"Of course not, and granny has her pension, so she will be no burden. +We must take granny."</p> + +<p>"Of course we must take granny. But there's Matrona."</p> + +<p>"Yes, and we've got Fyokla too!"</p> + +<p>"Matrona is a good woman, but she has one fault: she has no +imagination, Nastenka, absolutely none; but that doesn't matter."</p> + +<p>"That's all right—they can live together; only you must move to +us to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"To you? How so? All right, I am ready."</p> + +<p>"Yes, hire a room from us. We have a top floor, it's empty. We had an +old lady lodging there, but she has gone away; and I know granny would +like to have a young man. I said to her, 'Why a young man?' And she +said, 'Oh, because I am old; only don't you fancy, Nastenka, that I want +him as a husband for you.' So I guessed it was with that idea."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Nastenka!"</p> + +<p>And we both laughed.</p> + +<p>"Come, that's enough, that's enough. But where do you live? I've +forgotten."</p> + +<p>"Over that way, near X bridge, Barannikov's Buildings."</p> + +<p>"It's that big house?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, that big house."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I know, a nice house; only you know you had better give it up +and come to us as soon as possible."</p> + +<p>"To-morrow, Nastenka, to-morrow; I owe a little for my rent there but +that doesn't matter. I shall soon get my salary."</p> + +<p>"And do you know I will perhaps give lessons; I will learn something +myself and then give lessons."</p> + +<p>"Capital! And I shall soon get a bonus."</p> + +<p>"So by to-morrow you will be my lodger."</p> + +<p>"And we will go to <i>The Barber of Seville</i>, for they are soon +going to give it again."</p> + +<p>"Yes, we'll go," said Nastenka, "but better see something else and +not <i>The Barber of Seville</i>."</p> + +<p>"Very well, something else. Of course that will be better, I did not +think——"</p> + +<p>As we talked like this we walked along in a sort of delirium, a sort +of intoxication, as though we did not know what was happening to us. At +one moment we stopped and talked for a long time at the same place; then +we went on again, and goodness knows where we went; and again tears and +again laughter. All of a sudden Nastenka would want to go home, and I +would not dare to detain her but would want to see her to the house; we +set off, and in a quarter of an hour found ourselves at the embankment +by our seat. Then she would sigh, and tears would come into her eyes +again; I would turn chill with dismay.... But she would press my hand +and force me to walk, to talk, to chatter as before.</p> + +<p>"It's time I was home at last; I think it must be very late," +Nastenka said at last. "We must give over being childish."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Nastenka, only I shan't sleep to-night; I am not going +home."</p> + +<p>"I don't think I shall sleep either; only see me home."</p> + +<p>"I should think so!"</p> + +<p>"Only this time we really must get to the house."</p> + +<p>"We must, we must."</p> + +<p>"Honour bright? For you know one must go home some time!"</p> + +<p>"Honour bright," I answered laughing.</p> + +<p>"Well, come along!"</p> + +<p>"Come along! Look at the sky, Nastenka. Look! To-morrow it will be a +lovely day; what a blue sky, what a moon! Look; that yellow cloud is +covering it now, look, look! No, it has passed by. Look, look!"</p> + +<p>But Nastenka did not look at the cloud; she stood mute as though +turned to stone; a minute later she huddled timidly close up to me. Her +hand trembled in my hand; I looked at her. She pressed still more +closely to me.</p> + +<p>At that moment a young man passed by us. He suddenly stopped, looked +at us intently, and then again took a few steps on. My heart began +throbbing.</p> + +<p>"Who is it, Nastenka?" I said in an undertone.</p> + +<p>"It's he," she answered in a whisper, huddling up to me, still more +closely, still more tremulously.... I could hardly stand on my feet.</p> + +<p>"Nastenka, Nastenka! It's you!" I heard a voice behind us and at the +same moment the young man took several steps towards us.</p> + +<p>My God, how she cried out! How she started! How she tore herself out +of my arms and rushed to meet him! I stood and looked at them, utterly +crushed. But she had hardly given him her hand, had hardly flung herself +into his arms, when she turned to me again, was beside me again in a +flash, and before I knew where I was she threw both arms round my neck +and gave me a warm, tender kiss. Then, without saying a word to me, she +rushed back to him again, took his hand, and drew him after her.</p> + +<p>I stood a long time looking after them. At last the two vanished from +my sight.</p> + +<p class="p4 center">MORNING</p> + +<p class="p2">My night ended with the morning. It was a wet day. The +rain was falling and beating disconsolately upon my window pane; it was +dark in the room and grey outside. My head ached and I was giddy; fever +was stealing over my limbs.</p> + +<p>"There's a letter for you, sir; the postman brought it," Matrona said +stooping over me.</p> + +<p>"A letter? From whom?" I cried jumping up from my chair.</p> + +<p>"I don't know, sir, better look—maybe it is written there whom +it is from."</p> + +<p>I broke the seal. It was from her!</p> + +<p class="center">* * * * *</p> + +<p>"Oh, forgive me, forgive me! I beg you on my knees to forgive me! I +deceived you and myself. It was a dream, a mirage.... My heart aches for +you to-day; forgive me, forgive me!</p> + +<p>"Don't blame me, for I have not changed to you in the least. I told +you that I would love you, I love you now, I more than love you. Oh, my +God! If only I could love you both at once! Oh, if only you were +he!"</p> + +<p>["Oh, if only he were you," echoed in my mind. I remembered your +words, Nastenka!]</p> + +<p>"God knows what I would do for you now! I know that you are sad and +dreary. I have wounded you, but you know when one loves a wrong is soon +forgotten. And you love me.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, yes, thank you for that love! For it will live in my +memory like a sweet dream which lingers long after awakening; for I +shall remember for ever that instant when you opened your heart to me +like a brother and so generously accepted the gift of my shattered heart +to care for it, nurse it, and heal it.... If you forgive me, the memory +of you will be exalted by a feeling of everlasting gratitude which will +never be effaced from my soul.... I will treasure that memory: I will be +true to it, I will not betray it, I will not betray my heart: it is too +constant. It returned so quickly yesterday to him to whom it has always +belonged.</p> + +<p>"We shall meet, you will come to us, you will not leave us, you will +be for ever a friend, a brother to me. And when you see me you will give +me your hand ... yes? You will give it to me, you have forgiven me, +haven't you? You love me <i>as before</i>?</p> + +<p>"Oh, love me, do not forsake me, because I love you so at this +moment, because I am worthy of your love, because I will deserve it ... +my dear! Next week I am to be married to him. He has come back in love, +he has never forgotten me. You will not be angry at my writing about +him. But I want to come and see you with him; you will like him, won't +you?</p> + +<p class="center">"Forgive me, remember and love your</p> + +<p class="quotesig">"<span class="smcap">Nastenka</span>."</p> + +<p class="center">* * * * *</p> + +<p>I read that letter over and over again for a long time; tears gushed +to my eyes. At last it fell from my hands and I hid my face.</p> + +<p>"Dearie! I say, dearie——" Matrona began.</p> + +<p>"What is it, Matrona?"</p> + +<p>"I have taken all the cobwebs off the ceiling; you can have a wedding +or give a party."</p> + +<p>I looked at Matrona. She was still a hearty, <i>youngish</i> old +woman, but I don't know why all at once I suddenly pictured her with +lustreless eyes, a wrinkled face, bent, decrepit.... I don't know why I +suddenly pictured my room grown old like Matrona. The walls and the +floors looked discoloured, everything seemed dingy; the spiders' webs +were thicker than ever. I don't know why, but when I looked out of the +window it seemed to me that the house opposite had grown old and dingy +too, that the stucco on the columns was peeling off and crumbling, that +the cornices were cracked and blackened, and that the walls, of a vivid +deep yellow, were patchy.</p> + +<p>Either the sunbeams suddenly peeping out from the clouds for a moment +were hidden again behind a veil of rain, and everything had grown dingy +again before my eyes; or perhaps the whole vista of my future flashed +before me so sad and forbidding, and I saw myself just as I was now, +fifteen years hence, older, in the same room, just as solitary, with the +same Matrona grown no cleverer for those fifteen years.</p> + +<p>But to imagine that I should bear you a grudge, Nastenka! That I +should cast a dark cloud over your serene, untroubled happiness; that by +my bitter reproaches I should cause distress to your heart, should +poison it with secret remorse and should force it to throb with anguish +at the moment of bliss; that I should crush a single one of those tender +blossoms which you have twined in your dark tresses when you go with him +to the altar.... Oh never, never! May your sky be clear, may your sweet +smile be bright and untroubled, and may you be blessed for that moment +of blissful happiness which you gave to another, lonely and grateful +heart!</p> + +<p>My God, a whole moment of happiness! Is that too little for the whole +of a man's life?</p> + +<p class="p4 center">NOTES FROM UNDERGROUND<a name="fnanchor_1" +id="fnanchor_1"></a><a href="#footnote_1" +class="fnanchor"><sup>[1]</sup></a></p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">a novel</span></p> + +<p class="p2 center"><a name="Pg50">PART I</a></p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">underground</span></p> + +<p class="p2 center">I</p> + +<p class="p2">I am a sick man.... I am a spiteful man. I am an +unattractive man. I believe my liver is diseased. However, I know +nothing at all about my disease, and do not know for certain what ails +me. I don't consult a doctor for it, and never have, though I have a +respect for medicine and doctors. Besides, I am extremely superstitious, +sufficiently so to respect medicine, anyway (I am well-educated enough +not to be superstitious, but I am superstitious). No, I refuse to +consult a doctor from spite. That you probably will not understand. +Well, I understand it, though. Of course, I can't explain who it is +precisely that I am mortifying in this case by my spite: I am perfectly +well aware that I cannot "pay out" the doctors by not consulting them; I +know better than any one that by all this I am only injuring myself and +no one else. But still, if I don't consult a doctor it is from spite. My +liver is bad, well—let it get worse!</p> + +<p class="footnote"> <a name="footnote_1" id="footnote_1"></a> <a +href="#fnanchor_1">[1]</a> The author of the diary and the diary itself +are, of course, imaginary. Nevertheless it is clear that such persons as +the writer of these notes not only may, but positively must, exist in +our society, when we consider the circumstances in the midst of which +our society is formed. I have tried to expose to the view of the public +more distinctly than is commonly done, one of the characters of the +recent past. He is one of the representatives of a generation still +living. In this fragment, entitled "Underground," this person introduces +himself and his views, and, as it were, tries to explain the causes +owing to which he has made his appearance and was bound to make his +appearance in our midst. In the second fragment there are added the +actual notes of this person concerning certain events in his +life.—<span class="smcap">Author's Note.</span></p> + +<p>I have been going on like that for a long time—twenty years. +Now I am forty. I used to be in the government service, but am no +longer. I was a spiteful official. I was rude and took pleasure in being +so. I did not take bribes, you see, so I was bound to find a recompense +in that, at least. (A poor jest, but I will not scratch it out. I wrote +it thinking it would sound very witty; but now that I have seen myself +that I only wanted to show off in a despicable way, I will not scratch +it out on purpose!)</p> + +<p>When petitioners used to come for information to the table at which I +sat, I used to grind my teeth at them, and felt intense enjoyment when I +succeeded in making anybody unhappy. I almost always did succeed. For +the most part they were all timid people—of course, they were +petitioners. But of the uppish ones there was one officer in particular +I could not endure. He simply would not be humble, and clanked his sword +in a disgusting way. I carried on a feud with him for eighteen months +over that sword. At last I got the better of him. He left off clanking +it. That happened in my youth, though.</p> + +<p>But do you know, gentlemen, what was the chief point about my spite? +Why, the whole point, the real sting of it lay in the fact that +continually, even in the moment of the acutest spleen, I was inwardly +conscious with shame that I was not only not a spiteful but not even an +embittered man, that I was simply scaring sparrows at random and amusing +myself by it. I might foam at the mouth, but bring me a doll to play +with, give me a cup of tea with sugar in it, and maybe I should be +appeased. I might even be genuinely touched, though probably I should +grind my teeth at myself afterwards and lie awake at night with shame +for months after. That was my way.</p> + +<p>I was lying when I said just now that I was a spiteful official. I +was lying from spite. I was simply amusing myself with the petitioners +and with the officer, and in reality I never could become spiteful. I +was conscious every moment in myself of many, very many elements +absolutely opposite to that. I felt them positively swarming in me, +these opposite elements. I knew that they had been swarming in me all my +life and craving some outlet from me, but I would not let them, would +not let them, purposely would not let them come out. They tormented me +till I was ashamed: they drove me to convulsions and—sickened me, +at last, how they sickened me! Now, are not you fancying, gentlemen, +that I am expressing remorse for something now, that I am asking your +forgiveness for something? I am sure you are fancying that.... However, +I assure you I do not care if you are....</p> + +<p>It was not only that I could not become spiteful, I did not know how +to become anything: neither spiteful nor kind, neither a rascal nor an +honest man, neither a hero nor an insect. Now, I am living out my life +in my corner, taunting myself with the spiteful and useless consolation +that an intelligent man cannot become anything seriously, and it is only +the fool who becomes anything. Yes, a man in the nineteenth century must +and morally ought to be pre-eminently a characterless creature; a man of +character, an active man is pre-eminently a limited creature. That is my +conviction of forty years. I am forty years old now, and you know forty +years is a whole life-time; you know it is extreme old age. To live +longer than forty years is bad manners, is vulgar, immoral. Who does +live beyond forty? Answer that, sincerely and honestly. I will tell you +who do: fools and worthless fellows. I tell all old men that to their +face, all these venerable old men, all these silver-haired and reverend +seniors! I tell the whole world that to its face! I have a right to say +so, for I shall go on living to sixty myself. To seventy! To eighty!... +Stay, let me take breath....</p> + +<p>You imagine no doubt, gentlemen, that I want to amuse you. You are +mistaken in that, too. I am by no means such a mirthful person as you +imagine, or as you may imagine; however, irritated by all this babble +(and I feel that you are irritated) you think fit to ask me who am +I—then my answer is, I am a collegiate <b>assessor</b>. I was in +the service that I might have something to eat (and solely for that +reason), and when last year a distant relation left me six thousand +roubles in his will I immediately retired from the service and settled +down in my corner. I used to live in this corner before, but now I have +settled down in it. My room is a wretched, horrid one in the outskirts +of the town. My servant is an old country-woman, ill-natured from +stupidity, and, moreover, there is always a nasty smell about her. I am +told that the Petersburg climate is bad for me, and that with my small +means it is very expensive to live in Petersburg. I know all that better +than all these sage and experienced counsellors and monitors.... But I +am remaining in Petersburg; I am not going away from Petersburg! I am +not going away because ... ech! Why, it is absolutely no matter whether +I am going away or not going away.</p> + +<p>But what can a decent man speak of with most pleasure?</p> + +<p>Answer: Of himself.</p> + +<p>Well, so I will talk about myself.</p> + +<p class="p4 center">II</p> + +<p class="p2">I want now to tell you, gentlemen, whether you care to +hear it or not, why I could not even become an insect. I tell you +solemnly, that I have many times tried to become an insect. But I was +not equal even to that. I swear, gentlemen, that to be too conscious is +an illness—a real thorough-going illness. For man's everyday +needs, it would have been quite enough to have the ordinary human +consciousness, that is, half or a quarter of the amount which falls to +the lot of a cultivated man of our unhappy nineteenth century, +especially one who has the fatal ill-luck to inhabit Petersburg, the +most theoretical and intentional town on the whole <ins +title="'terrestial' in the original">terrestrial</ins> globe. (There are +intentional and unintentional towns.) It would have been quite enough, +for instance, to have the consciousness by which all so-called direct +persons and men of action live. I bet you think I am writing all this +from affectation, to be witty at the expense of men of action; and what +is more, that from ill-bred affectation, I am clanking a sword like my +officer. But, gentlemen, whoever can pride himself on his diseases and +even swagger over them?</p> + +<p>Though, after all, every one does do that; people do pride themselves +on their diseases, and I do, may be, more than any one. We will not +dispute it; my contention was absurd. But yet I am firmly persuaded that +a great deal of consciousness, every sort of consciousness, in fact, is +a disease. I stick to that. Let us leave that, too, for a minute. Tell +me this: why does it happen that at the very, yes, at the very moments +when I am most capable of feeling every refinement of all that is "good +and beautiful," as they used to say at one time, it would, as though of +design, happen to me not only to feel but to do such ugly things, such +that.... Well, in short, actions that all, perhaps, commit; but which, +as though purposely, occurred to me at the very time when I was most +conscious that they ought not to be committed. The more conscious I was +of goodness and of all that was "good and beautiful," the more deeply I +sank into my mire and the more ready I was to sink in it altogether. But +the chief point was that all this was, as it were, not accidental in me, +but as though it were bound to be so. It was as though it were my most +normal condition, and not in the least disease or depravity, so that at +last all desire in me to struggle against this depravity passed. It +ended by my almost believing (perhaps actually believing) that this was +perhaps my normal condition. But at first, in the beginning, what +agonies I endured in that struggle! I did not believe it was the same +with other people, and all my life I hid this fact about myself as a +secret. I was ashamed (even now, perhaps, I am ashamed): I got to the +point of feeling a sort of secret abnormal, despicable enjoyment in +returning home to my corner on some disgusting Petersburg night, acutely +conscious that that day I had committed a loathsome action again, that +what was done could never be undone, and secretly, inwardly gnawing, +gnawing at myself for it, tearing and consuming myself till at last the +bitterness turned into a sort of shameful accursed sweetness, and at +last—into positive real enjoyment! Yes, into enjoyment, into +enjoyment! I insist upon that. I have spoken of this because I keep +wanting to know for a fact whether other people feel such enjoyment? I +will explain; the enjoyment was just from the too intense consciousness +of one's own degradation; it was from feeling oneself that one had +reached the last barrier, that it was horrible, but that it could not be +otherwise; that there was no escape for you; that you never could become +a different man; that even if time and faith were still left you to +change into something different you would most likely not wish to +change; or if you did wish to, even then you would do nothing; because +perhaps in reality there was nothing for you to change into.</p> + +<p>And the worst of it was, and the root of it all, that it was all in +accord with the normal fundamental laws of over-acute consciousness, and +with the inertia that was the direct result of those laws, and that +consequently one was not only unable to change but could do absolutely +nothing. Thus it would follow, as the result of acute consciousness, +that one is not to blame in being a scoundrel; as though that were any +consolation to the scoundrel once he has come to realize that he +actually is a scoundrel. But enough.... Ech, I have talked a lot of +nonsense, but what have I explained? How is enjoyment in this to be +explained? But I will explain it. I will get to the bottom of it! That +is why I have taken up my pen....</p> + +<p>I, for instance, have a great deal of <i>amour propre</i>. I am as +suspicious and prone to take offence as a humpback or a dwarf. But upon +my word I sometimes have had moments when if I had happened to be +slapped in the face I should, perhaps, have been positively glad of it. +I say, in earnest, that I should probably have been able to discover +even in that a peculiar sort of enjoyment—the enjoyment, of +course, of despair; but in despair there are the most intense +enjoyments, especially when one is very acutely conscious of the +hopelessness of one's position. And when one is slapped in the +face—why then the consciousness of being rubbed into a pulp would +positively overwhelm one. The worst of it is, look at it which way one +will, it still turns out that I was always the most to blame in +everything. And what is most humiliating of all, to blame for no fault +of my own but, so to say, through the laws of nature. In the first +place, to blame because I am cleverer than any of the people surrounding +me. (I have always considered myself cleverer than any of the people +surrounding me, and sometimes, would you believe it, have been +positively ashamed of it. At any rate, I have all my life, as it were, +turned my eyes away and never could look people straight in the face.) +To blame, finally, because even if I had had magnanimity, I should only +have had more suffering from the sense of its uselessness. I should +certainly have never been able to do anything from being +magnanimous—neither to forgive, for my assailant would perhaps +have slapped me from the laws of nature, and one cannot forgive the laws +of nature; nor to forget, for even if it were owing to the laws of +nature, it is insulting all the same. Finally, even if I had wanted to +be anything but magnanimous, had desired on the contrary to revenge +myself on my assailant, I could not have revenged myself on any one for +anything because I should certainly never have made up my mind to do +anything, even if I had been able to. Why should I not have made up my +mind? About that in particular I want to say a few words.</p> + +<p class="p4 center">III</p> + +<p class="p2">With people who know how to revenge themselves and to +stand up for themselves in general, how is it done? Why, when they are +possessed, let us suppose, by the feeling of revenge, then for the time +there is nothing else but that feeling left in their whole being. Such a +gentleman simply dashes straight for his object like an infuriated bull +with its horns down, and nothing but a wall will stop him. (By the way: +facing the wall, such gentlemen—that is, the "direct" persons and +men of action—are genuinely nonplussed. For them a wall is not an +evasion, as for us people who think and consequently do nothing; it is +not an excuse for turning aside, an excuse for which we are always very +glad, though we scarcely believe in it ourselves, as a rule. No, they +are nonplussed in all sincerity. The wall has for them something +tranquillizing, morally soothing, final—maybe even something +mysterious ... but of the wall later.)</p> + +<p>Well, such a direct person I regard as the real normal man, as his +tender mother nature wished to see him when she graciously brought him +into being on the earth. I envy such a man till I am green in the face. +He is stupid. I am not disputing that, but perhaps the normal man should +be stupid, how do you know? Perhaps it is very beautiful, in fact. And I +am the more persuaded of that suspicion, if one can call it so, by the +fact that if you take, for instance, the antithesis of the normal man, +that is, the man of acute consciousness, who has come, of course, not +out of the lap of nature but out of a retort (this is almost mysticism, +gentlemen, but I suspect this, too), this retort-made man is sometimes +so nonplussed in the presence of his antithesis that with all his +exaggerated consciousness he genuinely thinks of himself as a mouse and +not a man. It may be an acutely conscious mouse, yet it is a mouse, +while the other is a man, and therefore, et cætera, et cætera. And the +worst of it is, he himself, his very own self, looks on himself as a +mouse; no one asks him to do so; and that is an important point. Now let +us look at this mouse in action. Let us suppose, for instance, that it +feels insulted, too (and it almost always does feel insulted), and wants +to revenge itself, too. There may even be a greater accumulation of +spite in it than in <i>l'homme de la nature et de la vérité</i>. The +base and nasty desire to vent that spite on its assailant rankles +perhaps even more nastily in it than in <i>l'homme de la nature et de la +vérité</i>. For through his innate stupidity the latter looks upon his +revenge as justice pure and simple; while in consequence of his acute +consciousness the mouse does not believe in the justice of it. To come +at last to the deed itself, to the very act of revenge. Apart from the +one fundamental nastiness the luckless mouse succeeds in creating around +it so many other nastinesses in the form of doubts and questions, adds +to the one question so many unsettled questions that there inevitably +works up around it a sort of fatal brew, a stinking mess, made up of its +doubts, emotions, and of the contempt spat upon it by the direct men of +action who stand solemnly about it as judges and arbitrators, laughing +at it till their healthy sides ache. Of course the only thing left for +it is to dismiss all that with a wave of its paw, and, with a smile of +assumed contempt in which it does not even itself believe, creep +ignominiously into its mouse-hole. There in its nasty, stinking, +underground home our insulted, crushed and ridiculed mouse promptly +becomes absorbed in cold, malignant and, above all, everlasting spite. +For forty years together it will remember its injury down to the +smallest, most ignominious details, and every time will add, of itself, +details still more ignominious, spitefully teasing and tormenting itself +with its own imagination. It will itself be ashamed of its imaginings, +but yet it will recall it all, it will go over and over every detail, it +will invent unheard of things against itself, pretending that those +things might happen, and will forgive nothing. Maybe it will begin to +revenge itself, too, but, as it were, piecemeal, in trivial ways, from +behind the stove, incognito, without believing either in its own right +to vengeance, or in the success of its revenge, knowing that from all +its efforts at revenge it will suffer a hundred times more than he on +whom it revenges itself, while he, I daresay, will not even scratch +himself. On its deathbed it will recall it all over again, with interest +accumulated over all the years and....</p> + +<p>But it is just in that cold, abominable half despair, half belief, in +that conscious burying oneself alive for grief in the underworld for +forty years, in that acutely recognized and yet partly doubtful +hopelessness of one's position, in that hell of unsatisfied desires +turned inward, in that fever of oscillations, of resolutions determined +for ever and repented of again a minute later—that the savour of +that strange enjoyment of which I have spoken lies. It is so subtle, so +difficult of analysis, that persons who are a little limited, or even +simply persons of strong nerves, will not understand a single atom of +it. "Possibly," you will add on your own account with a grin, "people +will not understand it either who have never received a slap in the +face," and in that way you will politely hint to me that I, too, +perhaps, have had the experience of a slap in the face in my life, and +so I speak as one who knows. I bet that you are thinking that. But set +your minds at rest, gentlemen, I have not received a slap in the face, +though it is absolutely a matter of indifference to me what you may +think about it. Possibly, I even regret, myself, that I have given so +few slaps in the face during my life. But enough ... not another word on +that subject of such extreme interest to you.</p> + +<p>I will continue calmly concerning persons with strong nerves who do +not understand a certain refinement of enjoyment. Though in certain +circumstances these gentlemen bellow their loudest like bulls, though +this, let us suppose, does them the greatest credit, yet, as I have said +already, confronted with the impossible they subside at once. The +impossible means the stone wall! What stone wall? Why, of course, the +laws of nature, the deductions of natural science, mathematics. As soon +as they prove to you, for instance, that you are descended from a +monkey, then it is no use scowling, accept it for a fact. When they +prove to you that in reality one drop of your own fat must be dearer to +you than a hundred thousand of your fellow creatures, and that this +conclusion is the final solution of all so-called virtues and duties and +all such prejudices and fancies, then you have just to accept it, there +is no help for it, for twice two is a law of mathematics. Just try +refuting it.</p> + +<p>"Upon my word, they will shout at you, it is no use protesting: it is +a case of twice two makes four! Nature does not ask your permission, she +has nothing to do with your wishes, and whether you like her laws or +dislike them, you are bound to accept her as she is, and consequently +all her conclusions. A wall, you see, is a wall ... and so on, and so +on."</p> + +<p>Merciful Heavens! but what do I care for the laws of nature and +arithmetic, when, for some reason I dislike those laws and the fact that +twice two makes four? Of course I cannot break through the wall by +battering my head against it if I really have not the strength to knock +it down, but I am not going to be reconciled to it simply because it is +a stone wall and I have not the strength.</p> + +<p>As though such a stone wall really were a consolation, and really did +contain some word of conciliation, simply because it is as true as twice +two makes four. Oh, absurdity of absurdities! How much better it is to +understand it all, to recognize it all, all the impossibilities and the +stone wall; not to be reconciled to one of those impossibilities and +stone walls if it disgusts you to be reconciled to it; by the way of the +most inevitable, logical combinations to reach the most revolting +conclusions on the everlasting theme, that even for the stone wall you +are yourself somehow to blame, though again it is as clear as day you +are not to blame in the least, and therefore grinding your teeth in +silent impotence to sink into luxurious inertia, brooding on the fact +that there is no one even for you to feel vindictive against, that you +have not, and perhaps never will have, an object for your spite, that it +is a sleight of hand, a bit of juggling, a card-sharper's trick, that it +is simply a mess, no knowing what and no knowing who, but in spite of +all these uncertainties and jugglings, still there is an ache in you, +and the more you do not know, the worse the ache.</p> + +<p class="p4 center">IV</p> + +<p class="p2">"Ha, ha, ha! You will be finding enjoyment in toothache +next," you cry, with a laugh.</p> + +<p>"Well? Even in toothache there is enjoyment," I answer. I had +toothache for a whole month and I know there is. In that case, of +course, people are not spiteful in silence, but moan; but they are not +candid moans, they are malignant moans, and the malignancy is the whole +point. The enjoyment of the sufferer finds expression in those moans; if +he did not feel enjoyment in them he would not moan. It is a good +example, gentlemen, and I will develop it. Those moans express in the +first place all the aimlessness of your pain, which is so humiliating to +your <ins title="'consciouness' in the original">consciousness</ins>; +the whole legal system of nature on which you spit disdainfully, of +course, but from which you suffer all the same while she does not. They +express the consciousness that you have no enemy to punish, but that you +have pain; the consciousness that in spite of all possible Vagenheims +you are in complete slavery to your teeth; that if some one wishes it, +your teeth will leave off aching, and if he does not, they will go on +aching another three months; and that finally if you are still +contumacious and still protest, all that is left you for your own +gratification is to thrash yourself or beat your wall with your fist as +hard as you can, and absolutely nothing more. Well, these mortal +insults, these jeers on the part of some one unknown, end at last in an +enjoyment which sometimes reaches the highest degree of voluptuousness. +I ask you, gentlemen, listen sometimes to the moans of an educated man +of the nineteenth century suffering from toothache, on the second or +third day of the attack, when he is beginning to moan, not as he moaned +on the first day, that is, not simply because he has toothache, not just +as any coarse peasant, but as a man affected by progress and European +civilization, a man who is "divorced from the soil and the national +elements," as they express it now-a-days. His moans become nasty, +disgustingly malignant, and go on for whole days and nights. And of +course he knows himself that he is doing himself no sort of good with +his moans; he knows better than any one that he is only lacerating and +harassing himself and others for nothing; he knows that even the +audience before whom he is making his efforts, and his whole family, +listen to him with loathing, do not put a ha'porth of faith in him, and +inwardly understand that he might moan differently, more simply, without +trills and flourishes, and that he is only amusing himself like that +from ill-humour, from malignancy. Well, in all these recognitions and +disgraces it is that there lies a voluptuous pleasure. As though he +would say: "I am worrying you, I am lacerating your hearts, I am keeping +every one in the house awake. Well, stay awake then, you, too, feel +every minute that I have toothache. I am not a hero to you now, as I +tried to seem before, but simply a nasty person, an impostor. Well, so +be it, then! I am very glad that you see through me. It is nasty for you +to hear my despicable moans: well, let it be nasty; here I will let you +have a nastier flourish in a minute...." You do not understand even now, +gentlemen? No, it seems our development and our consciousness must go +further to understand all the intricacies of this pleasure. You laugh? +Delighted. My jests, gentlemen, are of course in bad taste, jerky, +involved, lacking self-confidence. But of course that is because I do +not respect myself. Can a man of perception respect himself at all?</p> + +<p class="p4 center">V</p> + +<p class="p2">Come, can a man who attempts to find enjoyment in the very +feeling of his own degradation possibly have a spark of respect for +himself? I am not saying this now from any mawkish kind of remorse. And, +indeed, I could never endure saying, "Forgive me, Papa, I won't do it +again," not because I am incapable of saying that—on the contrary, +perhaps just because I have been too capable of it, and in what a way, +too! As though of design I used to get into trouble in cases when I was +not to blame in any way. That was the nastiest part of it. At the same +time I was genuinely touched and penitent, I used to shed tears and, of +course, deceived myself, though I was not acting in the least and there +was a sick feeling in my heart at the time.... For that one could not +blame even the laws of nature, though the laws of nature have +continually all my life offended me more than anything. It is loathsome +to remember it all, but it was loathsome even then. Of course, a minute +or so later I would realize wrathfully that it was all a lie, a +revolting lie, an affected lie, that is, all this penitence, this +emotion, these vows of reform. You will ask why did I worry myself with +such antics: answer, because it was very dull to sit with one's hands +folded, and so one began cutting capers. That is really it. Observe +yourselves more carefully, gentlemen, then you will understand that it +is so. I invented adventures for myself and made up a life, so as at +least to live in some way. How many times it has happened to +me—well, for instance, to take offence simply on purpose, for +nothing; and one knows oneself, of course, that one is offended at +nothing, that one is putting it on, but yet one brings oneself, at last +to the point of being really offended. All my life I have had an impulse +to play such pranks, so that in the end I could not control it in +myself. Another time, twice, in fact, I tried hard to be in love. I +suffered, too, gentlemen, I assure you. In the depth of my heart there +was no faith in my suffering, only a faint stir of mockery, but yet I +did suffer, and in the real, orthodox way; I was jealous, beside myself +... and it was all from <i>ennui</i>, gentlemen, all from <i>ennui</i>; +inertia overcame me. You know the direct, legitimate fruit of +consciousness is inertia, that is, conscious +sitting-with-the-hands-folded. I have referred to this already. I +repeat, I repeat with emphasis: all "direct" persons and men of action +are active just because they are stupid and limited. How explain that? I +will tell you: in consequence of their limitation they take immediate +and secondary causes for primary ones, and in that way persuade +themselves more quickly and easily than other people do that they have +found an infallible foundation for their activity, and their minds are +at ease and you know that is the chief thing. To begin to act, you know, +you must first have your mind completely at ease and no trace of doubt +left in it. Why, how am I, for example to set my mind at rest? Where are +the primary causes on which I am to build? Where are my foundations? +Where am I to get them from? I exercise myself in reflection, and +consequently with me every primary cause at once draws after itself +another still more primary, and so on to infinity. That is just the +essence of every sort of consciousness and reflection. It must be a case +of the laws of nature again. What is the result of it in the end? Why, +just the same. Remember I spoke just now of vengeance. (I am sure you +did not take it in.) I said that a man revenges himself because he sees +justice in it. Therefore he has found a primary cause, that is, justice. +And so he is at rest on all sides, and consequently he carries out his +revenge calmly and successfully, being persuaded that he is doing a just +and honest thing. But I see no justice in it, I find no sort of virtue +in it either, and consequently if I attempt to revenge myself, it is +only out of spite. Spite, of course, might overcome everything, all my +doubts, and so might serve quite successfully in place of a primary +cause, precisely because it is not a cause. But what is to be done if I +have not even spite (I began with that just now, you know)? In +consequence again of those accursed laws of consciousness, anger in me +is subject to chemical disintegration. You look into it, the object +flies off into air, your reasons evaporate, the criminal is not to be +found, the wrong becomes not a wrong but a phantom, something like the +toothache, for which no one is to blame, and consequently there is only +the same outlet left again—that is, to beat the wall as hard as +you can. So you give it up with a wave of the hand because you have not +found a fundamental cause. And try letting yourself be carried away by +your feelings, blindly, without reflection, without a primary cause, +repelling consciousness at least for a time; hate or love, if only not +to sit with your hands folded. The day after to-morrow, at the latest, +you will begin despising yourself for having knowingly deceived +yourself. Result: a soap-bubble and inertia. Oh, gentlemen, do you know, +perhaps I consider myself an intelligent man, only because all my life I +have been able neither to begin nor to finish anything. Granted I am a +babbler, a harmless vexatious babbler, like all of us. But what is to be +done if the direct and sole vocation of every intelligent man is babble, +that is, the intentional pouring of water through a sieve?</p> + +<p class="p4 center">VI</p> + +<p class="p2">Oh, if I had done nothing simply from laziness! Heavens, +how I should have respected myself, then. I should have respected myself +because I should at least have been capable of being lazy; there would +at least have been one quality, as it were, positive in me, in which I +could have believed myself. Question: What is he? Answer: A sluggard; +how very pleasant it would have been to hear that of oneself! It would +mean that I was positively defined, it would mean that there was +something to say about me. "Sluggard"—why, it is a calling and +vocation, it is a career. Do not jest, it is so. I should then be a +member of the best club by right, and should find my occupation in +continually respecting myself. I knew a <ins title="'gentlemen' in the +original">gentleman</ins> who prided himself all his life on being a +connoisseur of Lafitte. He considered this as his positive virtue, and +never doubted himself. He died, not simply with a tranquil, but with a +triumphant, conscience, and he was quite right, too. Then I should have +chosen a career for myself, I should have been a sluggard and a glutton, +not a simple one, but, for instance, one with sympathies for everything +good and beautiful. How do you like that? I have long had visions of it. +That "good and beautiful" weighs heavily on my mind at forty. But that +is at forty; then—oh, then it would have been different! I should +have found for myself a form of activity in keeping with it, to be +precise, drinking to the health of everything "good and beautiful." I +should have snatched at every opportunity to drop a tear into my glass +and then to drain it to all that is "good and beautiful." I should then +have turned everything into the good and the beautiful; in the nastiest, +unquestionable trash, I should have sought out the good and the +beautiful. I should have exuded tears like a wet sponge. An artist, for +instance, paints a picture worthy of Gay. At once I drink to the health +of the artist who painted the picture worthy of Gay, because I love all +that is "good and beautiful." An author has written <i>As you will</i>: +at once I drink to the health of "any one you will" because I love all +that is "good and beautiful."</p> + +<p>I should claim respect for doing so. I should persecute any one who +would not show me respect. I should live at ease, I should die with +dignity, why, it is charming, perfectly charming! And what a good round +belly I should have grown, what a treble chin I should have established, +what a ruby nose I should have coloured for myself, so that every one +would have said, looking at me: "Here is an asset! Here is something +real and solid!" And, say what you like, it is very agreeable to hear +such remarks about oneself in this negative age.</p> + +<p class="p4 center">VII</p> + +<p class="p2">But these are all golden dreams. Oh, tell me, who was it +first announced, who was it first proclaimed, that man only does nasty +things because he does not know his own interests; and that if he were +enlightened, if his eyes were opened to his real normal interests, man +would at once cease to do nasty things, would at once become good and +noble because, being enlightened and understanding his real advantage, +he would see his own advantage in the good and nothing else, and we all +know that not one man can, consciously, act against his own interests, +consequently, so to say, through necessity, he would begin doing good? +Oh, the babe! Oh, the pure, innocent child! Why, in the first place, +when in all these thousands of years has there been a time when man has +acted only from his own interest? What is to be done with the millions +of facts that bear witness that men, <i>consciously</i>, that is fully +understanding their real interests, have left them in the background and +have rushed headlong on another path, to meet peril and danger, +compelled to this course by nobody and by nothing, but, as it were, +simply disliking the beaten track, and have obstinately, wilfully, +struck out another difficult, absurd way, seeking it almost in the +darkness. So, I suppose, this obstinacy and perversity were pleasanter +to them than any advantage.... Advantage! What is advantage? And will +you take it upon yourself to define with perfect accuracy in what the +advantage of man consists? And what if it so happens that a man's +advantage, <i>sometimes</i>, not only may, but even must, consist in his +desiring in certain cases what is harmful to himself and not +advantageous? And if so, if there can be such a case, the whole +principle falls into dust. What do you think—are there such cases? +You laugh; laugh away, gentlemen, but only answer me: have man's +advantages been reckoned up with perfect certainty? Are there not some +which not only have not been included but cannot possibly be included +under any classification? You see, you gentlemen have, to the best of my +knowledge, taken your whole register of human advantages from the +averages of statistical figures and politico-economical formulas. Your +advantages are prosperity, wealth, freedom, peace—and so on, and +so on. So that the man who should, for instance, go openly and knowingly +in opposition to all that list would, to your thinking, and indeed mine, +too, of course, be an obscurantist or an absolute madman: would not he? +But, you know, this is what is surprising: why does it so happen that +all these statisticians, sages and lovers of humanity, when they reckon +up human advantages invariably leave out one? They don't even take it +into their reckoning in the form in which it should be taken, and the +whole reckoning depends upon that. It would be no great matter, they +would simply have to take it, this advantage, and add it to the list. +But the trouble is, that this strange advantage does not fall under any +classification and is not in place in any list. I have a friend for +instance.... Ech! gentlemen, but of course he is your friend, too; and +indeed there is no one, no one, to whom he is not a friend! When he +prepares for any undertaking this gentleman immediately explains to you, +elegantly and clearly, exactly how he must act in accordance with the +laws of reason and truth. What is more, he will talk to you with +excitement and passion of the true normal interests of man; with irony +he will upbraid the shortsighted fools who do not understand their own +interests, nor the true significance of virtue; and, within a quarter of +an hour, without any sudden outside provocation, but simply through +something inside him which is stronger than all his interests, he will +go off on quite a different tack—that is, act in direct opposition +to what he has just been saying about himself, in opposition to the laws +of reason, in opposition to his own advantage, in fact in opposition to +everything.... I warn you that my friend is a compound personality, and +therefore it is difficult to blame him as an individual. The fact is, +gentlemen, it seems there must really exist something that is dearer to +almost every man than his greatest advantages, or (not to be illogical) +there is a most advantageous advantage (the very one omitted of which we +spoke just now) which is more important and more advantageous than all +other advantages, for the sake of which a man if necessary is ready to +act in opposition to all laws; that is, in opposition to reason, honour, +peace, prosperity—in fact, in opposition to all those excellent +and useful things if only he can attain that fundamental, most +advantageous advantage which is dearer to him than all. "Yes, but it's +advantage all the same" you will retort. But excuse me, I'll make the +point clear, and it is not a case of playing upon words. What matters +is, that this advantage is remarkable from the very fact that it breaks +down all our classifications, and continually shatters every system +constructed by lovers of mankind for the benefit of mankind. In fact, it +upsets everything. But before I mention this advantage to you, I want to +compromise myself personally, and therefore I boldly declare that all +these fine systems, all these theories for explaining to mankind their +real normal interests, in order that inevitably striving to pursue these +interests they may at once become good and noble—are, in my +opinion, so far, mere logical exercises! Yes, logical exercises. Why, to +maintain this theory of the regeneration of mankind by means of the +pursuit of his own advantage is to my mind almost the same thing as ... +as to affirm, for instance, following Buckle, that through civilization +mankind becomes softer, and consequently less bloodthirsty and less +fitted for warfare. Logically it does seem to follow from his arguments. +But man has such a predilection for systems and abstract deductions that +he is ready to distort the truth intentionally, he is ready to deny the +evidence of his senses only to justify his logic. I take this example +because it is the most glaring instance of it. Only look about you: +blood is being spilt in streams, and in the merriest way, as though it +were champagne. Take the whole of the nineteenth century in which Buckle +lived. Take Napoleon—the Great and also the present one. Take +North America—the eternal union. Take the farce of +Schleswig-Holstein.... And what is it that civilization softens in us? +The only gain of civilization for mankind is the greater capacity for +variety of sensations—and absolutely nothing more. And through the +development of this many-sidedness man may come to finding enjoyment in +bloodshed. In fact, this has already happened to him. Have you noticed +that it is the most civilized gentlemen who have been the subtlest +slaughterers, to whom the Attilas and Stenka Razins could not hold a +candle, and if they are not so conspicuous as the Attilas and Stenka +Razins it is simply because they are so often met with, are so ordinary +and have become so familiar to us. In any case civilization has made +mankind if not more bloodthirsty, at least more vilely, more loathsomely +bloodthirsty. In old days he saw justice in bloodshed and with his +conscience at peace exterminated those he thought proper. Now we do +think bloodshed abominable and yet we engage in this abomination, and +with more energy than ever. Which is worse? Decide that for yourselves. +They say that Cleopatra (excuse an instance from Roman history) was fond +of sticking gold pins into her slave-girls' breasts and derived +gratification from their screams and writhings. You will say that that +was in the comparatively barbarous times; that these are barbarous times +too, because also, comparatively speaking, pins are stuck in even now; +that though man has now learned to see more clearly than in barbarous +ages, he is still far from having learnt to act as reason and science +would dictate. But yet you are fully convinced that he will be sure to +learn when he gets rid of certain old bad habits, and when common sense +and science have completely re-educated human nature and turned it in a +normal direction. You are confident that then man will cease from +<i>intentional</i> error and will, so to say, be compelled not to want +to set his will against his normal interests. That is not all; then, you +say, science itself will teach man (though to my mind it's a superfluous +luxury) that he never has really had any caprice or will of his own, and +that he himself is something of the nature of a piano-key or the stop of +an organ, and that there are, besides, things called the laws of nature; +so that everything he does is not done by his willing it, but is done of +itself, by the laws of nature. Consequently we have only to discover +these laws of nature, and man will no longer have to answer for his +actions and life will become exceedingly easy for him. All human actions +will then, of course, be tabulated according to these laws, +mathematically, like tables of logarithms up to 108,000, and entered in +an index; or, better still, there would be published certain edifying +works of the nature of encyclopædic lexicons, in which everything will +be so clearly calculated and explained that there will be no more +incidents or adventures in the world.</p> + +<p>Then—this is all what you say—new economic relations will +be established, all ready-made and worked out with mathematical +exactitude, so that every possible question will vanish in the twinkling +of an eye, simply because every possible answer to it will be provided. +Then the "Palace of Crystal" will be built. Then.... In fact, those will +be halcyon days. Of course there is no guaranteeing (this is my comment) +that it will not be, for instance, frightfully dull then (for what will +one have to do when everything will be calculated and tabulated?), but on +the other hand everything will be <ins title="'extraordinary' in the +original">extraordinarily</ins> rational. Of course boredom may lead you +to anything. It is boredom sets one sticking golden pins into people, +but all that would not matter. What is bad (this is my comment again) is +that I dare say people will be thankful for the gold pins then. Man is +stupid, you know, phenomenally stupid; or rather he is not at all +stupid, but he is so ungrateful that you could not find another like him +in all creation. I, for instance, would not be in the least surprised if +all of a sudden, <i>à propos</i> of nothing, in the midst of general +prosperity a gentleman with an ignoble, or rather with a reactionary and +ironical, countenance were to arise and, putting his arms akimbo, say to +us all: "I say, gentlemen, hadn't we better kick over the whole show and +scatter rationalism to the winds, simply to send these logarithms to the +devil, and to enable us to live once more at our own sweet foolish +will!" That again would not matter; but what is annoying is that he +would be sure to find followers—such is the nature of man. And all +that for the most foolish reason, which, one would think, was hardly +worth mentioning: that is, that man everywhere and at all times, whoever +he may be, has preferred to act as he chose and not in the least as his +reason and advantage dictated. And one may choose what is contrary to +one's own interests, and sometimes one <i>positively ought</i> (that is +my idea). One's own free unfettered choice, one's own caprice, however +wild it may be, one's own fancy worked up at times to frenzy—is +that very "most advantageous advantage" which we have overlooked, which +comes under no classification and against which all systems and theories +are continually being shattered to atoms. And how do these wiseacres +know that man wants a normal, a virtuous choice? What has made them +conceive that man must want a rationally advantageous choice? What man +wants is simply <i>independent</i> choice, whatever that independence +may cost and wherever it may lead. And choice, of course, the devil only +knows what choice....</p> + +<p class="p4 center">VIII</p> + +<p class="p2">"Ha! ha! ha! But you know there is no such thing as choice +in reality, say what you like," you will interpose with a chuckle. +"Science has succeeded in so far analysing man that we know already that +choice and what is called freedom of will is nothing else +than——"</p> + +<p>Stay, gentlemen, I meant to begin with that myself. I confess, I was +rather frightened. I was just going to say that the devil only knows +what choice depends on, and that perhaps that was a very good thing, but +I remembered the teaching of science ... and pulled myself up. And here +you have begun upon it. Indeed, if there really is some day discovered a +formula for all our desires and caprices—that is, an explanation +of what they depend upon, by what laws they arise, how they develop, +what they are aiming at in one case and in another and so on, that is a +real mathematical formula—then, most likely, man will at once +cease to feel desire, indeed, he will be certain to. For who would want +to choose by rule? Besides, he will at once be transformed from a human +being into an organ-stop or something of the sort; for what is a man +without desires, without <ins title="one word in the original">free +will</ins> and without choice, if not a stop in an organ? What do you +think? Let us reckon the chances—can such a thing happen or +not?</p> + +<p>"H'm!" you decide. "Our choice is usually mistaken from a false view +of our advantage. We sometimes choose absolute nonsense because in our +foolishness we see in that nonsense the easiest means for attaining a +supposed advantage. But when all that is explained and worked out on +paper (which is perfectly possible, for it is contemptible and senseless +to suppose that some laws of nature man will never understand), then +certainly so-called desires will no longer exist. For if a desire should +come into conflict with reason we shall then reason and not desire, +because it will be impossible retaining our reason to be +<i>senseless</i> in our desires, and in that way knowingly act against +reason and desire to injure ourselves. And as all choice and reasoning +can be really calculated—because there will some day be discovered +the laws of our so-called <ins title="one word in the original">free +will</ins>—so, joking apart, there may one day be something like a +table constructed of them, so that we really shall choose in accordance +with it. If, for instance, some day they calculate and prove to me that +I made a long nose at some one because I could not help making a long +nose at him and that I had to do it in that particular way, what +<i>freedom</i> is left me, especially if I am a learned man and have +taken my degree somewhere? Then I should be able to calculate my whole +life for thirty years beforehand. In short, if this could be arranged +there would be nothing left for us to do; anyway, we should have to +understand that. And, in fact, we ought unwearyingly to repeat to +ourselves that at such and such a time and in such and such +circumstances nature does not ask our leave; that we have got to take +her as she is and not fashion her to suit our fancy, and if we really +aspire to formulas and tables of rules, and well, even ... to the +chemical retort, there's no help for it, we must accept the retort too, +or else it will be accepted without our consent...."</p> + +<p>Yes, but here I come to a stop! Gentlemen, you must excuse me for +being over-philosophical; it's the result of forty years underground! +Allow me to indulge my fancy. You see, gentlemen, reason is an excellent +thing, there's no disputing that, but reason is nothing but reason and +satisfies only the rational side of man's nature, while will is a +manifestation of the whole life, that is, of the whole human life +including reason and all the impulses. And although our life, in this +manifestation of it, is often worthless, yet it is life and not simply +extracting square roots. Here I, for instance, quite naturally want to +live, in order to satisfy all my capacities for life, and not simply my +capacity for reasoning, that is, not simply one twentieth of my capacity +for life. What does reason know? Reason only knows what it has succeeded +in learning (some things, perhaps, it will never learn; this is a poor +comfort, but why not say so frankly?) and human nature acts as a whole, +with everything that is in it, consciously or unconsciously, and, even +if it goes wrong, it lives. I suspect, gentlemen, that you are looking +at me with compassion; you tell me again that an enlightened and +developed man, such, in short, as the future man will be, cannot +consciously desire anything disadvantageous to himself, that that can be +proved mathematically. I thoroughly agree, it can—by mathematics. +But I repeat for the hundredth time, there is one case, one only, when +man may consciously, purposely, desire what is injurious to himself, +what is stupid, very stupid—simply in order to have the right to +desire for himself even what is very stupid and not to be bound by an +obligation to desire only what is sensible. Of course, this very stupid +thing, this caprice of ours, may be in reality, gentlemen, more +advantageous for us than anything else on earth, especially in certain +cases. And in particular it may be more advantageous than any advantage +even when it does us obvious harm, and contradicts the soundest +conclusions of our reason concerning our advantage—for in any +circumstances it preserves for us what is most precious and most +important—that is, our personality, our individuality. Some, you +see, maintain that this really is the most precious thing for mankind; +choice can, of course, if it chooses, be in agreement with reason; and +especially if this be not abused but kept within bounds. It is +profitable and sometimes even praiseworthy. But very often, and even +most often, choice is utterly and stubbornly opposed to reason ... and +... and ... do you know that that, too, is profitable, sometimes even +praiseworthy? Gentlemen, let us suppose that man is not stupid. (Indeed +one cannot refuse to suppose that, if only from the one consideration, +that, if man is stupid, then who is wise?) But if he is not stupid, he +is monstrously ungrateful! Phenomenally ungrateful. In fact, I believe +that the best definition of man is the ungrateful biped. But that is not +all, that is not his worst defect; his worst defect is his perpetual +moral obliquity, perpetual—from the days of the Flood to the +Schleswig-Holstein period. Moral obliquity and consequently lack of good +sense; for it has long been accepted that lack of good sense is due to +no other cause than moral obliquity. Put it to the test and cast your +eyes upon the history of mankind. What will you see? Is it a grand +spectacle? Grand, if you like. Take the Colossus of Rhodes, for +instance, that's worth something. With good reason Mr. Anaevsky +testifies of it that some say that it is the work of man's hands, while +others maintain that it has been created by nature herself. Is it +many-coloured? May be it is many-coloured, too: if one takes the dress +uniforms, military and civilian, of all peoples in all ages—that +alone is worth something, and if you take the undress uniforms you will +never get to the end of it; no historian would be equal to the job. Is +it monotonous? May be it's monotonous too: it's fighting and fighting; +they are fighting now, they fought first and they fought last—you +will admit, that it is almost too monotonous. In short, one may say +anything about the history of the world—anything that might enter +the most disordered imagination. The only thing one can't say is that +it's rational. The very word sticks in one's throat. And, indeed, this +is the odd thing that is continually happening: there are continually +turning up in life moral and rational persons, sages and lovers of +humanity who make it their object to live all their lives as morally and +rationally as possible, to be, so to speak, a light to their neighbours +simply in order to show them that it is possible to live morally and +rationally in this world. And yet we all know that those very people +sooner or later have been false to themselves, playing some queer trick, +often a most unseemly one. Now I ask you: what can be expected of man +since he is a being endowed with such strange qualities? Shower upon him +every earthly blessing, drown him in a sea of happiness, so that nothing +but bubbles of bliss can be seen on the surface; give him economic +prosperity, such that he should have nothing else to do but sleep, eat +cakes and busy himself with the continuation of his species, and even +then out of sheer ingratitude, sheer spite, man would play you some +nasty trick. He would even risk his cakes and would deliberately desire +the most fatal rubbish, the most uneconomical absurdity, simply to +introduce into all this positive good sense his fatal fantastic element. +It is just his fantastic dreams, his vulgar folly that he will desire to +retain, simply in order to prove to himself—as though that were so +necessary—that men still are men and not the keys of a piano, +which the laws of nature threaten to control so completely that soon one +will be able to desire nothing but by the calendar. And that is not all: +even if man really were nothing but a piano-key, even if this were +proved to him by natural science and mathematics, even then he would not +become reasonable, but would purposely do something perverse out of +simple ingratitude, simply to gain his point. And if he does not find +means he will contrive destruction and chaos, will contrive sufferings +of all sorts, only to gain his point! He will launch a curse upon the +world, and as only man can curse (it is his privilege, the primary +distinction between him and other animals), may be by his curse alone he +will attain his object—that is, convince himself that he is a man +and not a piano-key! If you say that all this, too, can be calculated +and tabulated—chaos and darkness and curses, so that the mere +possibility of calculating it all beforehand would stop it all, and +reason would reassert itself, then man would purposely go mad in order +to be rid of reason and gain his point! I believe in it, I answer for +it, for the whole work of man really seems to consist in nothing but +proving to himself every minute that he is a man and not a piano-key! It +may be at the cost of his skin, it may be by cannibalism! And this being +so, can one help being tempted to rejoice that it has not yet come off, +and that desire still depends on something we don't know?</p> + +<p>You will scream at me (that is, if you condescend to do so) that no +one is touching my free will, that all they are concerned with is that +my will should of itself, of its own free will, coincide with my own +normal interests, with the laws of nature and arithmetic.</p> + +<p>Good Heavens, gentlemen, what sort of free will is left when we come +to tabulation and arithmetic, when it will all be a case of twice two +make four? Twice two makes four without my will. As if free will meant +that!</p> + +<p class="p4 center">IX</p> + +<p class="p2">Gentlemen, I am joking, and I know myself that my jokes +are not brilliant, but you know one can't take everything as a joke. I +am, perhaps, jesting against the grain. Gentlemen, I am tormented by +questions; answer them for me. You, for instance, want to cure men of +their old habits and reform their will in accordance with science and +good sense. But how do you know, not only that it is possible, but also +that it is <i>desirable</i>, to reform man in that way? And what leads +you to the conclusion that man's inclinations <i>need</i> reforming? In +short, how do you know that such a reformation will be a benefit to man? +And to go to the root of the matter, why are you so positively convinced +that not to act against his real normal interests guaranteed by the +conclusions of reason and arithmetic is certainly always advantageous +for man and must always be a law for mankind? So far, you know, this is +only your supposition. It may be the law of logic, but not the law of +humanity. You think, gentlemen, perhaps that I am mad? Allow me to +defend myself. I agree that man is pre-eminently a creative animal, +predestined to strive consciously for an object and to engage in +engineering—that is, incessantly and eternally to make new roads, +<i>wherever they may lead</i>. But the reason why he wants sometimes to +go off at a tangent may just be that he is <i>predestined</i> to make +the road, and perhaps, too, that however stupid the "direct" practical +man may be, the thought sometimes will occur to him that the road almost +always does lead <i>somewhere</i>, and that the destination it leads to +is less important than the process of making it, and that the chief +thing is to save the well-conducted child from despising engineering, +and so giving way to the fatal idleness, which, as we all know, is the +mother of all the vices. Man likes to make roads and to create, that is +a fact beyond dispute. But why has he such a passionate love for +destruction and chaos also? Tell me that! But on that point I want to +say a couple of words myself. May it not be that he loves chaos and +destruction (there can be no disputing that he does sometimes love it) +because he is instinctively afraid of attaining his object and +completing the edifice he is constructing? Who knows, perhaps he only +loves that edifice from a distance, and is by no means in love with it +at close quarters; perhaps he only loves building it and does not want +to live in it, but will leave it, when completed, for the use of <i>les +animaux domestiques</i>—such as the ants, the sheep, and so on. +Now the ants have quite a different taste. They have a marvellous +edifice of that pattern which endures for ever—the ant-heap.</p> + +<p>With the ant-heap the respectable race of ants began and with the +ant-heap they will probably end, which does the greatest credit to their +perseverance and good sense. But man is a frivolous and incongruous +creature, and perhaps, like a chess player, loves the process of the +game, not the end of it. And who knows (there is no saying with +certainty), perhaps the only goal on earth to which mankind is striving +lies in this incessant process of attaining, in other words, in life +itself, and not in the thing to be attained, which must always be +expressed as a formula, as positive as twice two makes four, and such +positiveness is not life, gentlemen, but is the beginning of death. +Anyway, man has always been afraid of this mathematical certainty, and I +am afraid of it now. Granted that man does nothing but seek that +mathematical certainty, he traverses oceans, sacrifices his life in the +quest, but to succeed, really to find it, he dreads, I assure you. He +feels that when he has found it there will be nothing for him to look +for. When workmen have finished their work they do at least receive +their pay, they go to the tavern, then they are taken to the +police-station—and there is occupation for a week. But where can +man go? Anyway, one can observe a certain awkwardness about him when he +has attained such objects. He loves the process of attaining, but does +not quite like to have attained, and that, of course, is very absurd. In +fact, man is a comical creature; there seems to be a kind of jest in it +all. But yet mathematical certainty is, after all, something +insufferable. Twice two makes four seems to me simply a piece of +insolence. Twice two makes four is a pert coxcomb who stands with arms +akimbo barring your path and spitting. I admit that twice two makes four +is an excellent thing, but if we are to give everything its due, twice +two makes five is sometimes a very charming thing too.</p> + +<p>And why are you so firmly, so triumphantly, convinced that only the +normal and the positive—in other words, only what is conducive to +welfare—is for the advantage of man? Is not reason in error as +regards advantage? Does not man, perhaps, love something besides +well-being? Perhaps he is just as fond of suffering? Perhaps suffering +is just as great a benefit to him as well-being? Man is sometimes +extraordinarily, passionately, in love with suffering, and that is a +fact. There is no need to appeal to universal history to prove that; +only ask yourself, if you are a man and have lived at all. As far as my +personal opinion is concerned, to care only for well-being seems to me +positively ill-bred. Whether it's good or bad, it is sometimes very +pleasant, too, to smash things. I hold no brief for suffering nor for +well-being either. I am standing for ... my caprice, and for its being +guaranteed to me when necessary. Suffering would be out of place in +vaudevilles, for instance; I know that. In the "Palace of Crystal" it is +unthinkable; suffering means doubt, negation, and what would be the good +of a "palace of crystal" if there could be any doubt about it? And yet I +think man will never renounce real suffering, that is, destruction and +chaos. Why, suffering is the sole origin of consciousness. Though I did +lay it down at the beginning that consciousness is the greatest +misfortune for man, yet I know man prizes it and would not give it up +for any satisfaction. Consciousness, for instance, is infinitely +superior to twice two makes four. Once you have mathematical certainty +there is nothing left to do or to understand. There will be nothing left +but to bottle up your five senses and plunge into contemplation. While +if you stick to consciousness, even though the same result is attained, +you can at least flog yourself at times, and that will, at any rate, +liven you up. Reactionary as it is, corporal punishment is better than +nothing.</p> + +<p class="p4 center">X</p> + +<p class="p2">You believe in a palace of crystal that can never be +destroyed—a palace at which one will not be able to put out one's +tongue or make a long nose on the sly. And perhaps that is just why I am +afraid of this edifice, that it is of crystal and can never be destroyed +and that one cannot put one's tongue out at it even on the sly.</p> + +<p>You see, if it were not a palace, but a hen-house, I might creep into +it to avoid getting wet, and yet I would not call the hen-house a palace +out of gratitude to it for keeping me dry. You laugh and say that in +such circumstances a hen-house is as good as a mansion. Yes, I answer, +if one had to live simply to keep out of the rain.</p> + +<p>But what is to be done if I have taken it into my head that that is +not the only object in life, and that if one must live one had better +live in a mansion. That is my choice, my desire. You will only eradicate +it when you have changed my preference. Well, do change it, allure me +with something else, give me another ideal. But meanwhile I will not +take a hen-house for a mansion. The palace of crystal may be an idle +dream, it may be that it is inconsistent with the laws of nature and +that I have invented it only through my own stupidity, through the +old-fashioned irrational habits of my generation. But what does it +matter to me that it is inconsistent? That makes no difference since it +exists in my desires, or rather exists as long as my desires exist. +Perhaps you are laughing again? Laugh away; I will put up with any +mockery rather than pretend that I am satisfied when I am hungry. I +know, anyway, that I will not be put off with a compromise, with a +recurring zero, simply because it is consistent with the laws of nature +and actually exists. I will not accept as the crown of my desires a +block of buildings with tenements for the poor on a lease of a thousand +years, and perhaps with a sign-board of a dentist hanging out. Destroy +my desires, eradicate my ideals, show me something better, and I will +follow you. You will say, perhaps, that it is not worth your trouble; +but in that case I can give you the same answer. We are discussing +things seriously; but if you won't deign to give me your attention, I +will drop your acquaintance. I can retreat into my underground hole.</p> + +<p>But while I am alive and have desires I would rather my hand were +withered off than bring one brick to such a building! Don't remind me +that I have just rejected the palace of crystal for the sole reason that +one cannot put out one's tongue at it. I did not say because I am so +fond of putting my tongue out. Perhaps the thing I resented was, that of +all your edifices there has not been one at which one could not put out +one's tongue. On the contrary, I would let my tongue be cut off out of +gratitude if things could be so arranged that I should lose all desire +to put it out. It is not my fault that things cannot be so arranged, and +that one must be satisfied with model flats. Then why am I made with +such desires? Can I have been constructed simply in order to come to the +conclusion that all my construction is a cheat? Can this be my whole +purpose? I do not believe it.</p> + +<p>But do you know what: I am convinced that we underground folk ought +to be kept on a curb. Though we may sit forty years underground without +speaking, when we do come out into the light of day and break out we +talk and talk and talk....</p> + +<p class="p4 center">XI</p> + +<p class="p2">The long and the short of it is, gentlemen, that it is +better to do nothing! Better conscious inertia! And so hurrah for +underground! Though I have said that I envy the normal man to the last +drop of my bile, yet I should not care to be in his place such as he is +now (though I shall not cease envying him). No, no; anyway the +underground life is more advantageous. There, at any rate, one can.... +Oh, but even now I am lying! I am lying because I know myself that it is +not underground that is better, but something different, quite +different, for which I am thirsting, but which I cannot find! Damn +underground!</p> + +<p>I will tell you another thing that would be better, and that is, if I +myself believed in anything of what I have just written. I swear to you, +gentlemen, there is not one thing, not one word of what I have written +that I really believe. That is, I believe it, perhaps, but at the same +time I feel and suspect that I am lying like a cobbler.</p> + +<p>"Then why have you written all this?" you will say to me.</p> + +<p>"I ought to put you underground for forty years without anything to +do and then come to you in your cellar, to find out what stage you have +reached! How can a man be left with nothing to do for forty years?"</p> + +<p>"Isn't that shameful, isn't that humiliating?" you will say, perhaps, +wagging your heads contemptuously. "You thirst for life and try to +settle the problems of life by a logical tangle. And how persistent, how +insolent are your sallies, and at the same time what a scare you are in! +You talk nonsense and are pleased with it; you say impudent things and +are in continual alarm and apologizing for them. You declare that you +are afraid of nothing and at the same time try to ingratiate yourself in +our good opinion. You declare that you are gnashing your teeth and at +the same time you try to be witty so as to amuse us. You know that your +witticisms are not witty, but you are evidently well satisfied with +their literary value. You may, perhaps, have really suffered, but you +have no respect for your own suffering. You may have sincerity, but you +have no modesty; out of the pettiest vanity you expose your sincerity to +publicity and ignominy. You doubtlessly mean to say something, but hide +your last word through fear, because you have not the resolution to +utter it, and only have a cowardly impudence. You boast of +consciousness, but you are not sure of your ground, for though your mind +works, yet your heart is darkened and corrupt, and you cannot have a +full, genuine consciousness without a pure heart. And how intrusive you +are, how you insist and grimace! Lies, lies, lies!"</p> + +<p>Of course I have myself made up all the things you say. That, too, is +from underground. I have been for forty years listening to you through a +crack under the floor. I have invented them myself, there was nothing +else I could invent. It is no wonder that I have learned it by heart and +it has taken a literary form....</p> + +<p>But can you really be so credulous as to think that I will print all +this and give it to you to read too? And another problem: why do I call +you "gentlemen," why do I address you as though you really were my +readers? Such confessions as I intend to make are never printed nor +given to other people to read. Anyway, I am not strong-minded enough for +that, and I don't see why I should be. But you see a fancy has occurred +to me and I want to realize it at all costs. Let me explain.</p> + +<p>Every man has reminiscences which he would not tell to every one, but +only to his friends. He has other matters in his mind which he would not +reveal even to his friends, but only to himself, and that in secret. But +there are other things which a man is afraid to tell even to himself, +and every decent man has a number of such things stored away in his +mind. The more decent he is, the greater the number of such things in +his mind. Anyway, I have only lately determined to remember some of my +early adventures. Till now I have always avoided them, even with a +certain uneasiness. Now, when I am not only recalling them, but have +actually decided to write an account of them, I want to try the +experiment whether one can, even with oneself, be perfectly open and not +take fright at the whole truth. I will observe, in parenthesis, that +Heine says that a true autobiography is almost an impossibility, and +that man is bound to lie about himself. He considers that Rousseau +certainly told lies about himself in his confessions, and even +intentionally lied, out of vanity. I am convinced that Heine is right; I +quite understand how sometimes one may, out of sheer vanity, attribute +regular crimes to oneself, and indeed I can very well conceive that kind +of vanity. But Heine judged of people who made their confessions to the +public. I write only for myself, and I wish to declare once and for all +that if I write as though I were addressing readers, that is simply +because it is easier for me to write in that form. It is a form, an +empty form—I shall never have readers. I have made this plain +already....</p> + +<p>I don't wish to be hampered by any restrictions in the compilation of +my notes. I shall not attempt any system or method. I will jot things +down as I remember them.</p> + +<p>But here, perhaps, some one will catch at the word and ask me: if you +really don't reckon on readers, why do you make such compacts with +yourself—and on paper too—that is, that you won't attempt +any system or method, that you jot things down as you remember them, and +so on, and so on? Why are you explaining? Why do you apologize?</p> + +<p>Well, there it is, I answer.</p> + +<p>There is a whole psychology in all this, though. Perhaps it is simply +that I am a coward. And perhaps that I purposely imagine an audience +before me in order that I may be more dignified while I write. There are +perhaps thousands of reasons. Again, what is my object precisely in +writing? If it is not for the benefit of the public why should I not +simply recall these incidents in my own mind without putting them on +paper?</p> + +<p>Quite so; but yet it is more imposing on paper. There is something +more impressive in it; I shall be better able to criticize myself and +improve my style. Besides, I shall perhaps obtain actual relief from +writing. To-day, for instance, I am particularly oppressed by one memory +of a distant past. It came back vividly to my mind a few days ago, and +has remained haunting me like an annoying tune that one cannot get rid +of. And yet I must get rid of it somehow. I have hundreds of such +reminiscences; but at times some one stands out from the hundred and +oppresses me. For some reason I believe that if I write it down I should +get rid of it. Why not try?</p> + +<p>Besides, I am bored, and I never have anything to do. Writing will be +a sort of work. They say work makes man kind-hearted and honest. Well, +here is a chance for me, anyway.</p> + +<p>Snow is falling to-day, yellow and dingy. It fell yesterday, too, and +a few days ago. I fancy it is the wet snow that has reminded me of that +incident which I cannot shake off now. And so let it be a story <i>à +propos</i> of the falling snow.</p> + +<p class="p4 center"><a name="Pg81">PART II</a></p> + +<div class="poem"> +<span class="i1 smcap">à propos of the wet snow</span> +<span class="i0">When from dark error's subjugation</span> +<span class="i0">My words of passionate exhortation</span> +<span class="i2">Had wrenched thy fainting spirit free;</span> +<span class="i0">And writhing prone in thine affliction</span> +<span class="i0">Thou didst recall with malediction</span> +<span class="i2">The vice that had encompassed thee:</span> +<span class="i0">And when thy slumbering conscience, fretting</span> +<span class="i2">By recollection's torturing flame,</span> +<span class="i0">Thou didst reveal the hideous setting</span> +<span class="i2">Of thy life's current ere I came:</span> +<span class="i0">When suddenly I saw thee sicken,</span> +<span class="i2">And weeping, hide thine anguished face,</span> +<span class="i0">Revolted, maddened, horror-stricken,</span> +<span class="i2">At memories of foul disgrace.</span> +<span class="i8"><span class="smcap">Nekrassov</span> (<i>translated by +Juliet Soskice</i>).</span> +</div> + +<p class="p4 center">I</p> + +<p class="p2">At that time I was only twenty-four. My life was even then +gloomy, ill-regulated, and as solitary as that of a savage. I made +friends with no one and positively avoided talking, and buried myself +more and more in my hole. At work in the office I never looked at any +one, and I was perfectly well aware that my companions looked upon me, +not only as a queer fellow, but even looked upon me—I always +fancied this—with a sort of loathing. I sometimes wondered why it +was that nobody except me fancied that he was looked upon with aversion? +One of the clerks had a most repulsive, pock-marked face, which looked +positively villainous. I believe I should not have dared to look at any +one with such an unsightly countenance. Another had such a very dirty +old uniform that there was an unpleasant odour in his proximity. Yet not +one of these gentlemen showed the slightest +self-consciousness—either about their clothes or their countenance +or their character in any way. Neither of them ever imagined that they +were looked at with repulsion; if they had imagined it they would not +have minded—so long as their superiors did not look at them in +that way. It is clear to me now that, owing to my unbounded vanity and +to the high standard I set for myself, I often looked at myself with +furious discontent, which verged on loathing, and so I inwardly +attributed the same feeling to every one. I hated my face, for instance: +I thought it disgusting, and even suspected that there was something +base in my expression, and so every day when I turned up at the office I +tried to behave as independently as possible, and to assume a lofty +expression, so that I might not be suspected of being abject. "My face +may be ugly," I thought, "but let it be lofty, expressive, and, above +all, <i>extremely</i> intelligent." But I was positively and painfully +certain that it was impossible for my countenance ever to express those +qualities. And what was worst of all, I thought it actually stupid +looking, and I would have been quite satisfied if I could have looked +intelligent. In fact, I would even have put up with looking base if, at +the same time, my face could have been thought strikingly +intelligent.</p> + +<p>Of course, I hated my fellow clerks one and all, and I despised them +all, yet at the same time I was, as it were, afraid of them. In fact, it +happened at times that I thought more highly of them than of myself. It +somehow happened quite suddenly that I alternated between despising them +and thinking them superior to myself. A cultivated and decent man cannot +be vain without setting a fearfully high standard for himself, and +without despising and almost hating himself at certain moments. But +whether I despised them or thought them superior I dropped my eyes +almost every time I met any one. I even made experiments whether I could +face so and so's looking at me, and I was always the first to drop my +eyes. This worried me to distraction. I had a sickly dread, too, of +being ridiculous, and so had a slavish passion for the conventional in +everything external. I loved to fall into the common rut, and had a +whole-hearted terror of any kind of eccentricity in myself. But how +could I live up to it? I was morbidly sensitive, as a man of our age +should be. They were all stupid, and as like one another as so many +sheep. Perhaps I was the only one in the office who fancied that I was a +coward and a slave, and I fancied it just because I was more highly +developed. But it was not only that I fancied it, it really was so. I +was a coward and a slave. I say this without the slightest +embarrassment. Every decent man of our age must be a coward and a slave. +That is his normal condition. Of that I am firmly persuaded. He is made +and constructed to that very end. And not only at the present time owing +to some casual circumstances, but always, at all times, a decent man is +bound to be a coward and a slave. It is the law of nature for all decent +people all over the earth. If any one of them happens to be valiant +about something, he need not be comforted nor carried away by that; he +would show the white feather just the same before something else. That +is how it invariably and inevitably ends. Only donkeys and mules are +valiant, and they only till they are pushed up to the wall. It is not +worth while to pay attention to them for they really are of no +consequence.</p> + +<p>Another circumstance, too, worried me in those days: that there was +no one like me and I was unlike any one else. "I am alone and they are +<i>every one</i>," I thought—and pondered.</p> + +<p>From that it is evident that I was still a youngster.</p> + +<p>The very opposite sometimes happened. It was loathsome sometimes to +go to the office; things reached such a point that I often came home +ill. But all at once, <i>à propos</i> of nothing, there would come a +phase of scepticism and indifference (everything happened in phases to +me), and I would laugh myself at my intolerance and fastidiousness, I +would reproach myself with being <i>romantic</i>. At one time I was +unwilling to speak to any one, while at other times I would not only +talk, but go to the length of contemplating making friends with them. +All my fastidiousness would suddenly, for no rhyme or reason, vanish. +Who knows, perhaps I never had really had it, and it had simply been +affected, and got out of books. I have not decided that question even +now. Once I quite made friends with them, visited their homes, played +preference, drank vodka, talked of promotions.... But here let me make a +digression.</p> + +<p>We Russians, speaking generally, have never had those foolish +transcendental "romantics"—German, and still more French—on +whom nothing produces any effect; if there were an earthquake, if all +France perished at the barricades, they would still be the same, they +would not even have the decency to affect a change, but would still go +on singing their transcendental songs to the hour of their death, +because they are fools. We, in Russia, have no fools; that is well +known. That is what distinguishes us from foreign lands. Consequently +these transcendental natures are not found amongst us in their pure +form. The idea that they are is due to our "realistic" journalists and +critics of that day, always on the look out for Kostanzhoglos and Uncle +Pyotr Ivanitchs and foolishly accepting them as our ideal; they have +slandered our romantics, taking them for the same transcendental sort as +in Germany or France. On the contrary, the characteristics of our +"romantics" are absolutely and directly opposed to the transcendental +European type, and no European standard can be applied to them. (Allow +me to make use of this word "romantic"—an old-fashioned and much +respected word which has done good service and is familiar to all). The +characteristics of our romantic are to understand everything, <i>to see +everything and to see it often incomparably more clearly than our most +realistic minds see it</i>; to refuse to accept anyone or anything, but +at the same time not to despise anything; to give way, to yield, from +policy; never to lose sight of a useful practical object (such as +rent-free quarters at the government expense, pensions, decorations), to +keep their eye on that object through all the enthusiasms and volumes of +lyrical poems, and at the same time to preserve "the good and the +beautiful" inviolate within them to the hour of their death, and to +preserve themselves also, incidentally, like some precious jewel wrapped +in cotton wool if only for the benefit of "the good and the beautiful." +Our "romantic" is a man of great breadth and the greatest rogue of all +our rogues, I assure you.... I can assure you from experience, indeed. +Of course, that is, if he is intelligent. But what am I saying! The +romantic is always intelligent, and I only meant to observe that +although we have had foolish romantics they don't count, and they were +only so because in the flower of their youth they degenerated into +Germans, and to preserve their precious jewel more comfortably, settled +somewhere out there—by preference in Weimar or the Black +Forest.</p> + +<p>I, for instance, genuinely despised my official work and did not +openly abuse it simply because I was in it myself and got a salary for +it. Anyway, take note, I did not openly abuse it. Our romantic would +rather go out of his mind—a thing, however, which very rarely +happens—than take to open abuse, unless he had some other career +in view; and he is never kicked out. At most, they would take him to the +lunatic asylum as "the King of Spain" if he should go very mad. But it +is only the thin, fair people who go out of their minds in Russia. +Innumerable "romantics" attain later in life to considerable rank in the +service. Their many-sidedness is remarkable! And what a faculty they +have for the most contradictory sensations! I was comforted by this +thought even in those days, and I am of the same opinion now. That is +why there are so many "broad natures" among us who never lose their +ideal even in the depths of degradation; and though they never stir a +finger for their ideal, though they are arrant thieves and knaves, yet +they tearfully cherish their first ideal and are extraordinarily honest +at heart. Yes, it is only among us that the most incorrigible rogue can +be absolutely and loftily honest at heart without in the least ceasing +to be a rogue. I repeat, our romantics, frequently, become such +accomplished rascals (I use the term "rascals" affectionately), suddenly +display such a sense of reality and practical knowledge that their +bewildered superiors and the public generally can only ejaculate in +amazement.</p> + +<p>Their many-sidedness is really amazing, and goodness knows what it +may develop into later on, and what the future has in store for us. It +is not a poor material! I do not say this from any foolish or boastful +patriotism. But I feel sure that you are again imagining that I am +joking. Or perhaps it's just the contrary, and you are convinced that I +really think so. Anyway, gentlemen, I shall welcome both views as an +honour and a special favour. And do forgive my digression.</p> + +<p>I did not, of course, maintain friendly relations with my comrades +and soon was at loggerheads with them, and in my youth and inexperience +I even gave up bowing to them, as though I had cut off all relations. +That, however, only happened to me once. As a rule, I was always +alone.</p> + +<p>In the first place I spent most of my time at home, reading. I tried +to stifle all that was continually seething within me by means of +external impressions. And the only external means I had was reading. +Reading, of course, was a great help—exciting me, giving me +pleasure and pain. But at times it bored me fearfully. One longed for +movement in spite of everything, and I plunged all at once into dark, +underground, loathsome vice of the pettiest kind. My wretched passions +were acute, smarting, from my continual, sickly irritability. I had +hysterical impulses, with tears and convulsions. I had no resource +except reading, that is, there was nothing in my surroundings which I +could respect and which attracted me. I was overwhelmed with depression, +too; I had an hysterical craving for incongruity and for contrast, and +so I took to vice. I have not said all this to justify myself.... But, +no! I am lying. I did want to justify myself. I make that little +observation for my own benefit, gentlemen. I don't want to lie. I vowed +to myself I would not.</p> + +<p>And so, furtively, timidly, in solitude, at night, I indulged in +filthy vice, with a feeling of shame which never deserted me, even at +the most loathsome moments, and which at such moments nearly made me +curse. Already even then I had my underground world in my soul. I was +fearfully afraid of being seen, of being met, of being recognized. I +visited various obscure haunts.</p> + +<p>One night as I was passing a tavern I saw through a lighted window +some gentlemen fighting with billiard cues, and saw one of them thrown +out of window. At other times I should have felt very much disgusted, +but I was in such a mood at the time, that I actually envied the +gentleman thrown out of window—and I envied him so much that I +even went into the tavern and into the billiard-room. "Perhaps," I +thought, "I'll have a fight, too, and they'll throw me out of +window."</p> + +<p>I was not drunk—but what is one to do—depression will +drive a man to such a pitch of hysteria? But nothing happened. It seemed +that I was not even equal to being thrown out of window and I went away +without having my fight.</p> + +<p>An officer put me in my place from the first moment.</p> + +<p>I was standing by the billiard-table and in my ignorance blocking up +the way, and he wanted to pass; he took me by the shoulders and without +a word—without a warning or explanation—moved me from where +I was standing to another spot and passed by as though he had not +noticed me. I could have forgiven blows, but I could not forgive his +having moved me without noticing me.</p> + +<p>Devil knows what I would have given for a real regular +quarrel—a more decent, a more <i>literary</i> one, so to speak. I +had been treated like a fly. This officer was over six foot, while I was +a spindly little fellow. But the quarrel was in my hands. I had only to +protest and I certainly would have been thrown out of the window. But I +changed my mind and preferred to beat a resentful retreat.</p> + +<p>I went out of the tavern straight home, confused and troubled, and +the next night I went out again with the same lewd intentions, still +more furtively, abjectly and miserably than before, as it were, with +tears in my eyes—but still I did go out again. Don't imagine, +though, it was cowardice made me slink away from the officer: I never +have been a coward at heart, though I have always been a coward in +action. Don't be in a hurry to laugh—I assure you I can explain it +all.</p> + +<p>Oh, if only that officer had been one of the sort who would consent +to fight a duel! But no, he was one of those gentlemen (alas, long +extinct!) who preferred fighting with cues or, like Gogol's Lieutenant +Pirogov, appealing to the police. They did not fight duels and would +have thought a duel with a civilian like me an utterly unseemly +procedure in any case—and they looked upon the duel altogether as +something impossible, something free-thinking and French. But they were +quite ready to bully, especially when they were over six foot.</p> + +<p>I did not slink away through cowardice, but through an unbounded +vanity. I was afraid not of his six foot, not of getting a sound +thrashing and being thrown out of the window; I should have had physical +courage enough, I assure you; but I had not the moral courage. What I +was afraid of was that every one present, from the insolent marker down +to the lowest little stinking, pimply clerk in a greasy collar, would +jeer at me and fail to understand when I began to protest and to address +them in literary language. For of the point of honour—not of +honour, but of the point of honour (<i>point d'honneur</i>)—one +cannot speak among us except in literary language. You can't allude to +the "point of honour" in ordinary language. I was fully convinced (the +sense of reality, in spite of all my romanticism!) that they would all +simply split their sides with laughter, and that the officer would not +simply beat me, that is, without insulting me, but would certainly prod +me in the back with his knee, kick me round the billiard table, and only +then perhaps have pity and drop me out of the window.</p> + +<p>Of course, this trivial incident could not with me end in that. I +often met that officer afterwards in the street and noticed him very +carefully. I am not quite sure whether he recognized me, I imagine not; +I judge from certain signs. But I—I stared at him with spite and +hatred and so it went on ... for several years! My resentment grew even +deeper with years. At first I began making stealthy inquiries about this +officer. It was difficult for me to do so, for I knew no one. But one +day I heard some one shout his surname in the street as I was following +him at a distance, as though I were tied to him—and so I learnt +his surname. Another time I followed him to his flat, and for ten +kopecks learned from the porter where he lived, on which storey, whether +he lived alone or with others, and so on—in fact, everything one +could learn from a porter. One morning, though I had never tried my hand +with the pen, it suddenly occurred to me to write a satire on this +officer in the form of a novel which would unmask his villainy. I wrote +the novel with relish. I did unmask his villainy, I even exaggerated it; +at first I so altered his surname that it could easily be recognized, +but on second thoughts I changed it, and sent the story to the +<i>Otetchestvenniya Zapiski</i>. But at that time such attacks were not +the fashion and my story was not printed. That was a great vexation to +me.</p> + +<p>Sometimes I was positively choked with resentment. At last I +determined to challenge my enemy to a duel. I composed a splendid, +charming letter to him, imploring him to apologize to me, and hinting +rather plainly at a duel in case of refusal. The letter was so composed +that if the officer had had the least understanding of the good and the +beautiful he would certainly have flung himself on my neck and have +offered me his friendship. And how fine that would have been! How we +should have got on together! "He could have shielded me with his higher +rank, while I could have improved his mind with my culture, and, well +... my ideas, and all sorts of things might have happened." Only fancy, +this was two years after his insult to me, and my challenge would have +been a ridiculous anachronism, in spite of all the ingenuity of my +letter in disguising and explaining away the anachronism. But, thank God +(to this day I thank the Almighty with tears in my eyes) I did not send +the letter to him. Cold shivers run down my back when I think of what +might have happened if I had sent it.</p> + +<p>And all at once I revenged myself in the simplest way, by a stroke of +genius! A brilliant thought suddenly dawned upon me. Sometimes on +holidays I used to stroll along the sunny side of the Nevsky about four +o'clock in the afternoon. Though it was hardly a stroll so much as a +series of innumerable miseries, humiliations and resentments; but no +doubt that was just what I wanted. I used to wriggle along in a most +unseemly fashion, like an eel, continually moving aside to make way for +generals, for officers of the guards and the hussars, or for ladies. At +such minutes there used to be a convulsive twinge at my heart, and I +used to feel hot all down my back at the mere thought of the +wretchedness of my attire, of the wretchedness and abjectness of my +little scurrying figure. This was a regular martyrdom, a continual, +intolerable humiliation at the thought, which passed into an incessant +and direct sensation, that I was a mere fly in the eyes of all this +world, a nasty, disgusting fly—more intelligent, more highly +developed, more refined in feeling than any of them, of course—but +a fly that was continually making way for every one, insulted and +injured by every one. Why I inflicted this torture upon myself, why I +went to the Nevsky, I don't know. I felt simply drawn there at every +possible opportunity.</p> + +<p>Already then I began to experience a rush of the enjoyment of which I +spoke in the first chapter. After my affair with the officer I felt even +more drawn there than before: it was on the Nevsky that I met him most +frequently, there I could admire him. He, too, went there chiefly on +holidays. He, too, turned out of his path for generals and persons of +high rank, and he, too, wriggled between them like an eel; but people, +like me, or even better dressed like me, he simply walked over; he made +straight for them as though there was nothing but empty space before +him, and never, under any circumstances, turned aside. I gloated over my +resentment watching him and ... always resentfully made way for him. It +exasperated me that even in the street I could not be on an even footing +with him.</p> + +<p>"Why must you invariably be the first to move aside?" I kept asking +myself in hysterical rage, waking up sometimes at three o'clock in the +morning. "Why is it you and not he? There's no regulation about it; +there's no written law. Let the making way be equal as it usually is +when refined people meet: he moves half-way and you move half-way; you +pass with mutual respect."</p> + +<p>But that never happened, and I always moved aside, while he did not +even notice my making way for him. And lo and behold a bright idea +dawned upon me! "What," I thought, "if I meet him and don't move on one +side? What if I don't move aside on purpose, even if I knock up against +him? How would that be?" This audacious idea took such a hold on me that +it gave me no peace. I was dreaming of it continually, horribly, and I +purposely went more frequently to the Nevsky in order to picture more +vividly how I should do it when I did do it. I was delighted. This +intention seemed to me more and more practical and possible.</p> + +<p>"Of course I shall not really push him," I thought, already more +good-natured in my joy. "I will simply not turn aside, will run up +against him, not very violently, but just shouldering each +other—just as much as decency permits. I will push against him +just as much as he pushes against me." At last I made up my mind +completely. But my preparations took a great deal of time. To begin +with, when I carried out my plan I should need to be looking rather more +decent, and so I had to think of my get-up. "In case of emergency, if, +for instance, there were any sort of public scandal (and the public +there is of the most <i>recherché</i>: the Countess walks there; Prince +D. walks there; all the literary world is there), I must be well +dressed; that inspires respect and of itself puts us on an equal footing +in the eyes of society."</p> + +<p>With this object I asked for some of my salary in advance, and bought +at Tchurkin's a pair of black gloves and a decent hat. Black gloves +seemed to me both more dignified and <i>bon ton</i> than the +lemon-coloured ones which I had contemplated at first. "The colour is +too gaudy, it looks as though one were trying to be conspicuous," and I +did not take the lemon-coloured ones. I had got ready long beforehand a +good shirt, with white bone studs; my overcoat was the only thing that +held me back. The coat in itself was a very good one, it kept me warm; +but it was wadded and it had a raccoon collar which was the height of +vulgarity. I had to change the collar at any sacrifice, and to have a +beaver one like an officer's. For this purpose I began visiting the +Gostiny Dvor and after several attempts I pitched upon a piece of cheap +German beaver. Though these German beavers soon grow shabby and look +wretched, yet at first they look exceedingly well, and I only needed it +for one occasion. I asked the price; even so, it was too expensive. +After thinking it over thoroughly I decided to sell my raccoon collar. +The rest of the money—a considerable sum for me, I decided to +borrow from Anton Antonitch Syetotchkin, my immediate superior, an +unassuming person, though grave and judicious. He never lent money to +any one, but I had, on entering the service, been specially recommended +to him by an important personage who had got me my berth. I was horribly +worried. To borrow from Anton Antonitch seemed to me monstrous and +shameful. I did not sleep for two or three nights. Indeed, I did not +sleep well at that time, I was in a fever; I had a vague sinking at my +heart or else a sudden throbbing, throbbing, throbbing! Anton Antonitch +was surprised at first, then he frowned, then he reflected, and did +after all lend me the money, receiving from me a written authorization +to take from my salary a fortnight later the sum that he had lent +me.</p> + +<p>In this way everything was at last ready. The handsome beaver +replaced the mean-looking raccoon, and I began by degrees to get to +work. It would never have done to act off-hand, at random; the plan had +to be carried out skilfully, by degrees. But I must confess that after +many efforts I began to despair: we simply could not run into each +other. I made every preparation, I was quite determined—it seemed +as though we should run into one another directly—and before I +knew what I was doing I had stepped aside for him again and he had +passed without noticing me. I even prayed as I approached him that God +would grant me determination. One time I had made up my mind thoroughly, +but it ended in my stumbling and falling at his feet because at the very +last instant when I was six inches from him my courage failed me. He +very calmly stepped over me, while I flew on one side like a ball. That +night I was ill again, feverish and delirious.</p> + +<p>And suddenly it ended most happily. The night before I had made up my +mind not to carry out my fatal plan and to abandon it all, and with that +object I went to the Nevsky for the last time, just to see how I would +abandon it all. Suddenly, three paces from my enemy, I unexpectedly made +up my mind—I closed my eyes, and we ran full tilt, shoulder to +shoulder, against one another! I did not budge an inch and passed him on +a perfectly equal footing! He did not even look round and pretended not +to notice it; but he was only pretending, I am convinced of that. I am +convinced of that to this day! Of course, I got the worst of it—he +was stronger, but that was not the point. The point was that I had +attained my object, I had kept up my dignity, I had not yielded a step, +and had put myself publicly on an equal social footing with him. I +returned home feeling that I was fully avenged for everything. I was +delighted. I was triumphant and sang Italian arias. Of course, I will +not describe to you what happened to me three days later; if you have +read my first chapter you can guess that for yourself. The officer was +afterwards transferred; I have not seen him now for fourteen years. What +is the dear fellow doing now? Whom is he walking over?</p> + +<p class="p4 center">II</p> + +<p class="p2">But the period of my dissipation would end and I always +felt very sick afterwards. It was followed by remorse—I tried to +drive it away: I felt too sick. By degrees, however, I grew used to that +too. I grew used to everything, or rather I voluntarily resigned myself +to enduring it. But I had a means of escape that reconciled +everything—that was to find refuge in "the good and the +beautiful," in dreams, of course. I was a terrible dreamer, I would +dream for three months on end, tucked away in my corner, and you may +believe me that at those moments I had no resemblance to the gentleman +who, in the perturbation of his chicken heart, put a collar of German +beaver on his great coat. I suddenly became a hero. I would not have +admitted my six-foot lieutenant even if he had called on me. I could not +even picture him before me then. What were my dreams and how I could +satisfy myself with them—it is hard to say now, but at the time I +was satisfied with them. Though, indeed, even now, I am to some extent +satisfied with them. Dreams were particularly sweet and vivid after a +spell of dissipation; they came with remorse and with tears, with curses +and transports. There were moments of such positive intoxication, of +such happiness, that there was not the faintest trace of irony within +me, on my honour. I had faith, hope, love. I believed blindly at such +times that by some miracle, by some external circumstance, all this +would suddenly open out, expand; that suddenly a vista of suitable +activity—beneficent, good, and, above all, <i>ready made</i> (what +sort of activity I had no idea, but the great thing was that it should +be all ready for me)—would rise up before me—and I should +come out into the light of day, almost riding a white horse and crowned +with laurel. Anything but the foremost place I could not conceive for +myself, and for that very reason I quite contentedly occupied the lowest +in reality. Either to be a hero or to grovel in the mud—there was +nothing between. That was my ruin, for when I was in the mud I comforted +myself with the thought that at other times I was a hero, and the hero +was a cloak for the mud: for an ordinary man it was shameful to defile +himself, but a hero was too lofty to be utterly defiled, and so he might +defile himself. It is worth noting that these attacks of the "good and +the beautiful" visited me even during the period of dissipation and just +at the times when I was touching the bottom. They came in separate +spurts, as though reminding me of themselves, but did not banish the +dissipation by their appearance. On the contrary, they seemed to add a +zest to it by contrast, and were only sufficiently present to serve as +an appetizing sauce. That sauce was made up of contradictions and +sufferings, of agonizing inward analysis and all these pangs and +pin-pricks gave a certain piquancy, even a significance to my +dissipation—in fact, completely answered the purpose of an +appetizing sauce. There was a certain depth of meaning in it. And I +could hardly have resigned myself to the simple, vulgar, direct +debauchery of a clerk and have endured all the filthiness of it. What +could have allured me about it then and have drawn me at night into the +street? No, I had a lofty way of getting out of it all.</p> + +<p>And what loving-kindness, oh Lord, what loving-kindness I felt at +times in those dreams of mine! in those "flights into the good and the +beautiful;" though it was fantastic love, though it was never applied to +anything human in reality, yet there was so much of this love that one +did not feel afterwards even the impulse to apply it in reality; that +would have been superfluous. Everything, however, passed satisfactorily +by a lazy and fascinating transition into the sphere of art, that is, +into the beautiful forms of life, lying ready, largely stolen from the +poets and novelists and adapted to all sorts of needs and uses. I, for +instance, was triumphant over every one; every one, of course, was in +dust and ashes, and was forced spontaneously to recognize my +superiority, and I forgave them all. I was a poet and a grand gentleman, +I fell in love; I came in for countless millions and immediately devoted +them to humanity, and at the same time I confessed before all the people +my shameful deeds, which, of course, were not merely shameful, but had +in them much that was "good and beautiful," something in the Manfred +style. Every one would kiss me and weep (what idiots they would be if +they did not), while I should go barefoot and hungry preaching new ideas +and fighting a victorious Austerlitz against the obscurantists. Then the +band would play a march, an amnesty would be declared, the Pope would +agree to retire from Rome to Brazil; then there would be a ball for the +whole of Italy at the Villa Borghese on the shores of the Lake of Como, +the Lake of Como being for that purpose transferred to the neighbourhood +of Rome; then would come a scene in the bushes, and so on, and so +on—as though you did not know all about it? You will say that it +is vulgar and contemptible to drag all this into public after all the +tears and transports which I have myself confessed. But why is it +contemptible? Can you imagine that I am ashamed of it all, and that it +was stupider than anything in your life, gentlemen? And I can assure you +that some of these fancies were by no means badly composed.... It did +not all happen on the shores of Lake Como. And yet you are +right—it really is vulgar and contemptible. And most contemptible +of all it is that now I am attempting to justify myself to you. And even +more contemptible than that is my making this remark now. But that's +enough, or there will be no end to it: each step will be more +contemptible than the last....</p> + +<p>I could never stand more than three months of dreaming at a time +without feeling an irresistible desire to plunge into society. To plunge +into society meant to visit my superior at the office, Anton Antonitch +Syetotchkin. He was the only permanent acquaintance I have had in my +life, and wonder at the fact myself now. But I only went to see him when +that phase came over me, and when my dreams had reached such a point of +bliss that it became essential at once to embrace my fellows and all +mankind; and for that purpose I needed, at least, one human being, +actually existing. I had to call on Anton Antonitch, however, on +Tuesday—his at-home day; so I had always to time my passionate +desire to embrace humanity so that it might fall on a Tuesday.</p> + +<p>This Anton Antonitch lived on the fourth storey in a house in Five +Corners, in four low-pitched rooms, one smaller than the other, of a +particularly frugal and sallow appearance. He had two daughters and +their aunt, who used to pour out the tea. Of the daughters one was +thirteen and another fourteen, they both had snub noses, and I was +awfully shy of them because they were always whispering and giggling +together. The master of the house usually sat in his study on a leather +couch in front of the table with some grey-headed gentleman, usually a +colleague from our office or some other department. I never saw more +than two or three visitors there, always the same. They talked about the +excise duty; about business in the senate, about salaries, about +promotions, about His Excellency, and the best means of pleasing him, +and so on. I had the patience to sit like a fool beside these people for +four hours at a stretch, listening to them without knowing what to say +to them or venturing to say a word. I became stupified, several times I +felt myself perspiring, I was overcome by a sort of paralysis; but this +was pleasant and good for me. On returning home I deferred for a time my +desire to embrace all mankind.</p> + +<p>I had however one other acquaintance of a sort, Simonov, who was an +old schoolfellow. I had a number of schoolfellows indeed in Petersburg, +but I did not associate with them and had even given up nodding to them +in the street. I believe I had transferred into the department I was in +simply to avoid their company and to cut off all connection with my +hateful childhood. Curses on that school and all those terrible years of +penal servitude! In short, I parted from my schoolfellows as soon as I +got out into the world. There were two or three left to whom I nodded in +the street. One of them was Simonov, who had been in no way +distinguished at school, was of a quiet and equable disposition; but I +discovered in him a certain independence of character and even honesty. +I don't even suppose that he was particularly stupid. I had at one time +spent some rather soulful moments with him, but these had not lasted +long and had somehow been suddenly clouded over. He was evidently +uncomfortable at these reminiscences, and was, I fancy, always afraid +that I might take up the same tone again. I suspected that he had an +aversion for me, but still I went on going to see him, not being quite +certain of it.</p> + +<p>And so on one occasion, unable to endure my solitude and knowing that +as it was Thursday Anton Antonitch's door would be closed, I thought of +Simonov. Climbing up to his fourth storey I was thinking that the man +disliked me and that it was a mistake to go and see him. But as it +always happened that such reflections impelled me, as though purposely, +to put myself into a false position, I went in. It was almost a year +since I had last seen Simonov.</p> + +<p class="p4 center">III</p> + +<p class="p2">I found two of my old schoolfellows with him. They seemed +to be discussing an important matter. All of them took scarcely any +notice of my entrance, which was strange, for I had not met them for +years. Evidently they looked upon me as something on the level of a +common fly. I had not been treated like that even at school, though they +all hated me. I knew, of course, that they must despise me now for my +lack of success in the service, and for my having let myself sink so +low, going about badly dressed and so on—which seemed to them a +sign of my incapacity and insignificance. But I had not expected such +contempt. Simonov was positively surprised at my turning up. Even in old +days he had always seemed surprised at my coming. All this disconcerted +me: I sat down, feeling rather miserable, and began listening to what +they were saying.</p> + +<p>They were engaged in warm and earnest conversation about a farewell +dinner which they wanted to arrange for the next day to a comrade of +theirs called Zverkov, an officer in the army, who was going away to a +distant province. This Zverkov had been all the time at school with me +too. I had begun to hate him particularly in the upper forms. In the +lower forms he had simply been a pretty, playful boy whom everybody +liked. I had hated him, however, even in the lower forms, just because +he was a pretty and playful boy. He was always bad at his lessons and +got worse and worse as he went on; however, he left with a good +certificate, as he had powerful interest. During his last year at school +he came in for an estate of two hundred serfs, and as almost all of us +were poor he took up a swaggering tone among us. He was vulgar in the +extreme, but at the same time he was a good-natured fellow, even in his +swaggering. In spite of superficial, fantastic and sham notions of +honour and dignity, all but very few of us positively grovelled before +Zverkov, and the more so the more he swaggered. And it was not from any +interested motive that they grovelled, but simply because he had been +favoured by the gifts of nature. Moreover, it was, as it were, an +accepted idea among us that Zverkov was a specialist in regard to tact +and the social graces. This last fact particularly infuriated me. I +hated the abrupt self-confident tone of his voice, his admiration of his +own witticisms, which were often frightfully stupid, though he was bold +in his language; I hated his handsome, but stupid face (for which I +would, however, have gladly exchanged my intelligent one), and the +free-and-easy military manners in fashion in the "'forties." I hated the +way in which he used to talk of his future conquests of women (he did +not venture to begin his attack upon women until he had the epaulettes +of an officer, and was looking forward to them with impatience), and +boasted of the duels he would constantly be fighting. I remember how I, +invariably so taciturn, suddenly fastened upon Zverkov, when one day +talking at a leisure moment with his schoolfellows of his future +relations with the fair sex, and growing as sportive as a puppy in the +sun, he all at once declared that he would not leave a single village +girl on his estate unnoticed, that that was his <i>droit de +seigneur</i>, and that if the peasants dared to protest he would have +them all flogged and double the tax on them, the bearded rascals. Our +servile rabble applauded, but I attacked him, not from compassion for +the girls and their fathers, but simply because they were applauding +such an insect. I got the better of him on that occasion, but though +Zverkov was stupid he was lively and impudent, and so laughed it off, +and in such a way that my victory was not really complete: the laugh was +on his side. He got the better of me on several occasions afterwards, +but without malice, jestingly, casually. I remained angrily and +contemptuously silent and would not answer him. When we left school he +made advances to me; I did not rebuff them, for I was flattered, but we +soon parted and quite naturally. Afterwards I heard of his barrack-room +success as a lieutenant, and of the fast life he was leading. Then there +came other rumours—of his successes in the service. By then he had +taken to cutting me in the street, and I suspected that he was afraid of +compromising himself by greeting a personage as insignificant as me. I +saw him once in the theatre, in the third tier of boxes. By then he was +wearing shoulder-straps. He was twisting and twirling about, +ingratiating himself with the daughters of an ancient General. In three +years he had gone off considerably, though he was still rather handsome +and adroit. One could see that by the time he was thirty he would be +corpulent. So it was to this Zverkov that my schoolfellows were going to +give a dinner on his departure. They had kept up with him for those +three years, though privately they did not consider themselves on an +equal footing with him, I am convinced of that.</p> + +<p>Of Simonov's two visitors, one was Ferfitchkin, a Russianized +German—a little fellow with the face of a monkey, a blockhead who +was always deriding every one, a very bitter enemy of mine from our days +in the lower forms—a vulgar, impudent, swaggering fellow, who +affected a most sensitive feeling of personal honour, though, of course, +he was a wretched little coward at heart. He was one of those +worshippers of Zverkov who made up to the latter from interested +motives, and often borrowed money from him. Simonov's other visitor, +Trudolyubov, was a person in no way remarkable—a tall young +fellow, in the army, with a cold face, fairly honest, though he +worshipped success of every sort, and was only capable of thinking of +promotion. He was some sort of distant relation of Zverkov's, and this, +foolish as it seems, gave him a certain importance among us. He always +thought me of no consequence whatever; his behaviour to me, though not +quite courteous, was tolerable.</p> + +<p>"Well, with seven roubles each," said Trudolyubov, "twenty-one +roubles between the three of us, we ought to be able to get a good +dinner. Zverkov, of course, won't pay."</p> + +<p>"Of course not, since we are inviting him," Simonov decided.</p> + +<p>"Can you imagine," Ferfitchkin interrupted hotly and conceitedly, +like some insolent flunkey boasting of his master the General's +decorations, "can you imagine that Zverkov will let us pay alone? He +will accept from delicacy, but he will order half a dozen bottles of +champagne."</p> + +<p>"Do we want half a dozen for the four of us?" observed Trudolyubov, +taking notice only of the half dozen.</p> + +<p>"So the three of us, with Zverkov for the fourth, twenty-one roubles, +at the Hôtel de Paris at five o'clock to-morrow," Simonov, who had been +asked to make the arrangements, concluded finally.</p> + +<p>"How twenty-one roubles?" I asked in some agitation, with a show of +being offended; "if you count me it will not be twenty-one, but +twenty-eight roubles."</p> + +<p>It seemed to me that to invite myself so suddenly and unexpectedly +would be positively graceful, and that they would all be conquered at +once and would look at me with respect.</p> + +<p>"Do you want to join, too?" Simonov observed, with no appearance of +pleasure, seeming to avoid looking at me. He knew me through and +through.</p> + +<p>It infuriated me that he knew me so thoroughly.</p> + +<p>"Why not? I am an old schoolfellow of his, too, I believe, and I must +own I feel hurt that you have left me out," I said, boiling over +again.</p> + +<p>"And where were we to find you?" Ferfitchkin put in roughly.</p> + +<p>"You never were on good terms with Zverkov," Trudolyubov added, +frowning.</p> + +<p>But I had already clutched at the idea and would not give it up.</p> + +<p>"It seems to me that no one has a right to form an opinion upon +that," I retorted in a shaking voice, as though something tremendous had +happened. "Perhaps that is just my reason for wishing it now, that I +have not always been on good terms with him."</p> + +<p>"Oh, there's no making you out ... with these refinements," +Trudolyubov jeered.</p> + +<p>"We'll put your name down," Simonov decided, addressing me. +"To-morrow at five o'clock at the Hôtel de Paris."</p> + +<p>"What about the money?" Ferfitchkin began in an undertone, indicating +me to Simonov, but he broke off, for even Simonov was embarrassed.</p> + +<p>"That will do," said Trudolyubov, getting up. "If he wants to come so +much, let him."</p> + +<p>"But it's a private thing, between us friends," Ferfitchkin said +crossly, as he, too, picked up his hat. "It's not an official +gathering."</p> + +<p>"We do not want at all, perhaps...."</p> + +<p>They went away. Ferfitchkin did not greet me in any way as he went +out, Trudolyubov barely nodded. Simonov, with whom I was left +<i>tête-à-tête</i>, was in a state of vexation and perplexity, and +looked at me queerly. He did not sit down and did not ask me to.</p> + +<p>"H'm ... yes ... to-morrow, then. Will you pay your subscription now? +I just ask so as to know," he muttered in embarrassment.</p> + +<p>I flushed crimson, and as I did so I remembered that I had owed +Simonov fifteen roubles for ages—which I had, indeed, never +forgotten, though I had not paid it.</p> + +<p>"You will understand, Simonov, that I could have no idea when I came +here.... I am very much vexed that I have forgotten...."</p> + +<p>"All right, all right, that doesn't matter. You can pay to-morrow +after the dinner. I simply wanted to know.... Please don't...."</p> + +<p>He broke off and began pacing the room still more vexed. As he walked +he began to stamp with his heels.</p> + +<p>"Am I keeping you?" I asked, after two minutes of silence.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" he said, starting, "that is—to be truthful—yes. I +have to go and see some one ... not far from here," he added in an +apologetic voice, somewhat abashed.</p> + +<p>"My goodness, why didn't you say so?" I cried, seizing my cap, with +an astonishingly free-and-easy air, which was the last thing I should +have expected of myself.</p> + +<p>"It's close by ... not two paces away," Simonov repeated, +accompanying me to the front door with a fussy air which did not suit +him at all. "So five o'clock, punctually, to-morrow," he called down the +stairs after me. He was very glad to get rid of me. I was in a fury.</p> + +<p>"What possessed me, what possessed me to force myself upon them?" I +wondered, grinding my teeth as I strode along the street, "for a +scoundrel, a pig like that Zverkov! Of course, I had better not go; of +course, I must just snap my fingers at them. I am not bound in any way. +I'll send Simonov a note by to-morrow's post...."</p> + +<p>But what made me furious was that I knew for certain that I should +go, that I should make a point of going; and the more tactless, the more +unseemly my going would be, the more certainly I would go.</p> + +<p>And there was a positive obstacle to my going: I had no money. All I +had was nine roubles, I had to give seven of that to my servant, +Apollon, for his monthly wages. That was all I paid him—he had to +keep himself.</p> + +<p>Not to pay him was impossible, considering his character. But I will +talk about that fellow, about that plague of mine, another time.</p> + +<p>However, I knew I should go and should not pay him his wages.</p> + +<p>That night I had the most hideous dreams. No wonder; all the evening +I had been oppressed by memories of my miserable days at school, and I +could not shake them off. I was sent to the school by distant relations, +upon whom I was dependent and of whom I have heard nothing +since—they sent me there a forlorn, silent boy, already crushed by +their reproaches, already troubled by doubt, and looking with savage +distrust at every one. My schoolfellows met me with spiteful and +merciless jibes because I was not like any of them. But I could not +endure their taunts; I could not give in to them with the ignoble +readiness with which they gave in to one another. I hated them from the +first, and shut myself away from every one in timid, wounded and +disproportionate pride. Their coarseness revolted me. They laughed +cynically at my face, at my clumsy figure; and yet what stupid faces +they had themselves. In our school the boys' faces seemed in a special +way to degenerate and grow stupider. How many fine-looking boys came to +us! In a few years they became repulsive. Even at sixteen I wondered at +them morosely; even then I was struck by the pettiness of their +thoughts, the stupidity of their pursuits, their games, their +conversations. They had no understanding of such essential things, they +took no interest in such striking, impressive subjects, that I could not +help considering them inferior to myself. It was not wounded vanity that +drove me to it, and for God's sake do not thrust upon me your hackneyed +remarks, repeated to nausea, that "I was only a dreamer," while they +even then had an understanding of life. They understood nothing, they +had no idea of real life, and I swear that that was what made me most +indignant with them. On the contrary, the most obvious, striking reality +they accepted with fantastic stupidity and even at that time were +accustomed to respect success. Everything that was just, but oppressed +and looked down upon, they laughed at heartlessly and shamefully. They +took rank for intelligence; even at sixteen they were already talking +about a snug berth. Of course, a great deal of it was due to their +stupidity, to the bad examples with which they had always been +surrounded in their childhood and boyhood. They were monstrously +depraved. Of course a great deal of that, too, was superficial and an +assumption of cynicism; of course there were glimpses of youth and +freshness even in their depravity; but even that freshness was not +attractive, and showed itself in a certain rakishness. I hated them +horribly, though perhaps I was worse than any of them. They repaid me in +the same way, and did not conceal their aversion for me. But by then I +did not desire their affection: on the contrary I continually longed for +their humiliation. To escape from their derision I purposely began to +make all the progress I could with my studies and forced my way to the +very top. This impressed them. Moreover, they all began by degrees to +grasp that I had already read books none of them could read, and +understood things (not forming part of our school curriculum) of which +they had not even heard. They took a savage and sarcastic view of it, +but were morally impressed, especially as the teachers began to notice +me on those grounds. The mockery ceased, but the hostility remained, and +cold and strained relations became permanent between us. In the end I +could not put up with it: with years a craving for society, for friends, +developed in me. I attempted to get on friendly terms with some of my +schoolfellows; but somehow or other my intimacy with them was always +strained and soon ended of itself. Once, indeed, I did have a friend. +But I was already a tyrant at heart; I wanted to exercise unbounded sway +over him; I tried to instil into him a contempt for his surroundings; I +required of him a disdainful and complete break with those surroundings. +I frightened him with my passionate affection; I reduced him to tears, +to hysterics. He was a simple and devoted soul; but when he devoted +himself to me entirely I began to hate him immediately and repulsed +him—as though all I needed him for was to win a victory over him, +to subjugate him and nothing else. But I could not subjugate all of +them; my friend was not at all like them either, he was, in fact, a rare +exception. The first thing I did on leaving school was to give up the +special job for which I had been destined so as to break all ties, to +curse my past and shake the dust from off my feet.... And goodness knows +why, after all that, I should go trudging off to Simonov's!</p> + +<p>Early next morning I roused myself and jumped out of bed with +excitement, as though it were all about to happen at once. But I +believed that some radical change in my life was coming, and would +inevitably come that day. Owing to its rarity, perhaps, any external +event, however trivial, always made me feel as though some radical +change in my life were at hand. I went to the office, however, as usual, +but sneaked away home two hours earlier to get ready. The great thing, I +thought, is not to be the first to arrive, or they will think I am +overjoyed at coming. But there were thousands of such great points to +consider, and they all agitated and overwhelmed me. I polished my boots +a second time with my own hands; nothing in the world would have induced +Apollon to clean them twice a day, as he considered that it was more +than his duties required of him. I stole the brushes to clean them from +the passage, being careful he should not detect it, for fear of his +contempt. Then I minutely examined my clothes and thought that +everything looked old, worn and threadbare. I had let myself get too +slovenly. My uniform, perhaps, was tidy, but I could not go out to +dinner in my uniform. The worst of it was that on the knee of my +trousers was a big yellow stain. I had a foreboding that that stain +would deprive me of nine-tenths of my personal dignity. I knew, too, +that it was very poor to think so. "But this is no time for thinking: +now I am in for the real thing," I thought, and my heart sank. I knew, +too, perfectly well even then, that I was monstrously exaggerating the +facts. But how could I help it? I could not control myself and was +already shaking with fever. With despair I pictured to myself how coldly +and disdainfully that "scoundrel" Zverkov would meet me; with what +dull-witted, invincible contempt the blockhead Trudolyubov would look at +me; with what impudent rudeness the insect Ferfitchkin would snigger at +me in order to curry favour with Zverkov; how completely Simonov would +take it all in, and how he would despise me for the abjectness of my +vanity and lack of spirit—and, worst of all, how paltry, +<i>unliterary</i>, commonplace it would all be. Of course, the best +thing would be not to go at all. But that was most impossible of all: if +I feel impelled to do anything, I seem to be pitchforked into it. I +should have jeered at myself ever afterwards: "So you funked it, you +funked it, you funked the <i>real thing</i>!" On the contrary, I +passionately longed to show all that "rabble" that I was by no means +such a spiritless creature as I seemed to myself. What is more, even in +the acutest paroxysm of this cowardly fever, I dreamed of getting the +upper hand, of dominating them, carrying them away, making them like +me—if only for my "elevation of thought and unmistakable wit." +They would abandon Zverkov, he would sit on one side, silent and +ashamed, while I should crush him. Then, perhaps, we would be reconciled +and drink to our everlasting friendship; but what was most bitter and +most humiliating for me was that I knew even then, knew fully and for +certain, that I needed nothing of all this really, that I did not really +want to crush, to subdue, to attract them, and that I did not care a +straw really for the result, even if I did achieve it. Oh, how I prayed +for the day to pass quickly! In unutterable anguish I went to the +window, opened the movable pane and looked out into the troubled +darkness of the thickly falling wet snow. At last my wretched little +clock hissed out five. I seized my hat and trying not to look at +Apollon, who had been all day expecting his month's wages, but in his +foolishness was unwilling to be the first to speak about it, I slipt +between him and the door and jumping into a high-class sledge, on which +I spent my last half rouble, I drove up in grand style to the Hôtel de +Paris.</p> + +<p class="p4 center">IV</p> + +<p class="p2">I had been certain the day before that I should be the +first to arrive. But it was not a question of being the first to arrive. +Not only were they not there, but I had difficulty in finding our room. +The table was not laid even. What did it mean? After a good many +questions I elicited from the waiters that the dinner had been ordered +not for five, but for six o'clock. This was confirmed at the buffet too. +I felt really ashamed to go on questioning them. It was only twenty-five +minutes past five. If they changed the dinner hour they ought at least +to have let me know—that is what the post is for, and not to have +put me in an absurd position in my own eyes and ... and even before the +waiters. I sat down; the servant began laying the table; I felt even +more humiliated when he was present. Towards six o'clock they brought in +candles, though there were lamps burning in the room. It had not +occurred to the waiter, however, to bring them in at once when I +arrived. In the next room two gloomy, angry-looking persons were eating +their dinners in silence at two different tables. There was a great deal +of noise, even shouting, in a room further away; one could hear the +laughter of a crowd of people, and nasty little shrieks in French: there +were ladies at the dinner. It was sickening, in fact. I rarely passed +more unpleasant moments, so much so that when they did arrive all +together punctually at six I was overjoyed to see them, as though they +were my deliverers, and even forgot that it was incumbent upon me to +show resentment.</p> + +<p>Zverkov walked in at the head of them; evidently he was the leading +spirit. He and all of them were laughing; but, seeing me, Zverkov drew +himself up a little, walked up to me deliberately with a slight, rather +jaunty bend from the waist. He shook hands with me in a friendly, but +not over-friendly, fashion, with a sort of circumspect courtesy like +that of a General, as though in giving me his hand he were warding off +something. I had imagined, on the contrary, that on coming in he would +at once break into his habitual thin, shrill laugh and fall to making +his insipid jokes and witticisms. I had been preparing for them ever +since the previous day, but I had not expected such condescension, such +high-official courtesy. So, then, he felt himself ineffably superior to +me in every respect! If he only meant to insult me by that high-official +tone, it would not matter, I thought—I could pay him back for it +one way or another. But what if, in reality, without the least desire to +be offensive, that sheepshead had a notion in earnest that he was +superior to me and could only look at me in a patronizing way? The very +supposition made me gasp.</p> + +<p>"I was surprised to hear of your desire to join us," he began, +lisping and drawling, which was something new. "You and I seem to have +seen nothing of one another. You fight shy of us. You shouldn't. We are +not such terrible people as you think. Well, anyway, I am glad to renew +our acquaintance."</p> + +<p>And he turned carelessly to put down his hat on the window.</p> + +<p>"Have you been waiting long?" Trudolyubov inquired.</p> + +<p>"I arrived at five o'clock as you told me yesterday," I answered +aloud, with an irritability that threatened an explosion.</p> + +<p>"Didn't you let him know that we had changed the hour?" said +Trudolyubov to Simonov.</p> + +<p>"No, I didn't. I forgot," the latter replied, with no sign of regret, +and without even apologizing to me he went off to order the <i>hors +d'œuvres</i>.</p> + +<p>"So you've been here a whole hour? Oh, poor fellow!" Zverkov cried +ironically, for to his notions this was bound to be extremely funny. +That rascal Ferfitchkin followed with his nasty little snigger like a +puppy yapping. My position struck him, too, as exquisitely ludicrous and +embarrassing.</p> + +<p>"It isn't funny at all!" I cried to Ferfitchkin, more and more +irritated. "It wasn't my fault, but other people's. They neglected to +let me know. It was ... it was ... it was simply absurd."</p> + +<p>"It's not only absurd, but something else as well," muttered +Trudolyubov, naïvely taking my part. "You are not hard enough upon it. +It was simply rudeness—unintentional, of course. And how could +Simonov ... h'm!"</p> + +<p>"If a trick like that had been played on me," observed Ferfitchkin, +"I should...."</p> + +<p>"But you should have ordered something for yourself," Zverkov +interrupted, "or simply asked for dinner without waiting for us."</p> + +<p>"You will allow that I might have done that without your permission," +I rapped out. "If I waited, it was...."</p> + +<p>"Let us sit down, gentlemen," cried Simonov, coming in. "Everything +is ready; I can answer for the champagne; it is capitally frozen.... You +see, I did not know your address, where was I to look for you?" he +suddenly turned to me, but again he seemed to avoid looking at me. +Evidently he had something against me. It must have been what happened +yesterday.</p> + +<p>All sat down; I did the same. It was a round table. Trudolyubov was +on my left, Simonov on my right. Zverkov was sitting opposite, +Ferfitchkin next to him, between him and Trudolyubov.</p> + +<p>"Tell me, are you ... in a government office?" Zverkov went on +attending to me. Seeing that I was embarrassed he seriously thought that +he ought to be friendly to me, and, so to speak, cheer me up.</p> + +<p>"Does he want me to throw a bottle at his head?" I thought, in a +fury. In my novel surroundings I was unnaturally ready to be +irritated.</p> + +<p>"In the N—— office," I answered jerkily, with my eyes on +my plate.</p> + +<p>"And ha-ave you a go-od berth? I say, what ma-a-de you leave your +original job?"</p> + +<p>"What ma-a-de me was that I wanted to leave my original job," I +drawled more than he, hardly able to control myself. Ferfitchkin went +off into a guffaw. Simonov looked at me ironically. Trudolyubov left off +eating and began looking at me with curiosity.</p> + +<p>Zverkov winced, but he tried not to notice it.</p> + +<p>"And the remuneration?"</p> + +<p>"What remuneration?"</p> + +<p>"I mean, your sa-a-lary?"</p> + +<p>"Why are you cross-examining me?" However, I told him at once what my +salary was. I turned horribly red.</p> + +<p>"It is not very handsome," Zverkov observed majestically.</p> + +<p>"Yes, you can't afford to dine at cafés on that," Ferfitchkin added +insolently.</p> + +<p>"To my thinking it's very poor," Trudolyubov observed gravely.</p> + +<p>"And how thin you have grown! How you have changed!" added Zverkov, +with a shade of venom in his voice, scanning me and my attire with a +sort of insolent compassion.</p> + +<p>"Oh, spare his blushes," cried Ferfitchkin, sniggering.</p> + +<p>"My dear sir, allow me to tell you I am not blushing," I broke out at +last; "do you hear? I am dining here, at this café, at my own expense, +not at other people's—note that, Mr. Ferfitchkin."</p> + +<p>"Wha-at? Isn't every one here dining at his own expense? You would +seem to be...." Ferfitchkin flew out at me, turning as red as a lobster, +and looking me in the face with fury.</p> + +<p>"Tha-at," I answered, feeling I had gone too far, "and I imagine it +would be better to talk of something more intelligent."</p> + +<p>"You intend to show off your intelligence, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Don't disturb yourself, that would be quite out of place here."</p> + +<p>"Why are you clacking away like that, my good sir, eh? Have you gone +out of your wits in your office?"</p> + +<p>"Enough, gentlemen, enough!" Zverkov cried, authoritatively.</p> + +<p>"How stupid it is!" muttered Simonov.</p> + +<p>"It really is stupid. We have met here, a company of friends, for a +farewell dinner to a comrade and you carry on an altercation," said +Trudolyubov, rudely addressing himself to me alone. "You invited +yourself to join us, so don't disturb the general harmony."</p> + +<p>"Enough, enough!" cried Zverkov. "Give over, gentlemen, it's out of +place. Better let me tell you how I nearly got married the day before +yesterday...."</p> + +<p>And then followed a burlesque narrative of how this gentleman had +almost been married two days before. There was not a word about the +marriage, however, but the story was adorned with generals, colonels and +kammer-junkers, while Zverkov almost took the lead among them. It was +greeted with approving laughter; Ferfitchkin positively squealed.</p> + +<p>No one paid any attention to me, and I sat crushed and +humiliated.</p> + +<p>"Good Heavens, these are not the people for me!" I thought. "And what +a fool I have made of myself before them! I let Ferfitchkin go too far, +though. The brutes imagine they are doing me an honour in letting me sit +down with them. They don't understand that it's an honour to them and +not to me! I've grown thinner! My clothes! Oh, damn my trousers! Zverkov +noticed the yellow stain on the knee as soon as he came in.... But +what's the use! I must get up at once, this very minute, take my hat and +simply go without a word ... with contempt! And to-morrow I can send a +challenge. The scoundrels! As though I cared about the seven roubles. +They may think.... Damn it! I don't care about the seven roubles. I'll +go this minute!"</p> + +<p>Of course I remained. I drank sherry and Lafitte by the glassful in +my discomfiture. Being unaccustomed to it, I was quickly affected. My +annoyance increased as the wine went to my head. I longed all at once to +insult them all in a most flagrant manner and then go away. To seize the +moment and show what I could do, so that they would say, "He's clever, +though he is absurd," and ... and ... in fact, damn them all!</p> + +<p>I scanned them all insolently with my drowsy eyes. But they seemed to +have forgotten me altogether. They were noisy, vociferous, cheerful. +Zverkov was talking all the time. I began listening. Zverkov was talking +of some exuberant lady whom he had at last led on to declaring her love +(of course, he was lying like a horse), and how he had been helped in +this affair by an intimate friend of his, a Prince Kolya, an officer in +the hussars, who had three thousand serfs.</p> + +<p>"And yet this Kolya, who has three thousand serfs, has not put in an +appearance here to-night to see you off," I cut in suddenly.</p> + +<p>For a minute every one was silent. "You are drunk already." +Trudolyubov deigned to notice me at last, glancing contemptuously in my +direction. Zverkov, without a word, examined me as though I were an +insect. I dropped my eyes. Simonov made haste to fill up the glasses +with champagne.</p> + +<p>Trudolyubov raised his glass, as did every one else but me.</p> + +<p>"Your health and good luck on the journey!" he cried to Zverkov. "To +old times, to our future, hurrah!"</p> + +<p>They all tossed off their glasses, and crowded round Zverkov to kiss +him. I did not move; my full glass stood untouched before me.</p> + +<p>"Why, aren't you going to drink it?" roared Trudolyubov, losing +patience and turning menacingly to me.</p> + +<p>"I want to make a speech separately, on my own account ... and then +I'll drink it, Mr. Trudolyubov."</p> + +<p>"Spiteful brute!" muttered Simonov. I drew myself up in my chair and +feverishly seized my glass, prepared for something extraordinary, though +I did not know myself precisely what I was going to say.</p> + +<p>"<i>Silence!</i>" cried Ferfitchkin. "Now for a display of wit!"</p> + +<p>Zverkov waited very gravely, knowing what was coming.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Lieutenant Zverkov," I began, "let me tell you that I hate +phrases, phrasemongers and men in corsets ... that's the first point, +and there is a second one to follow it."</p> + +<p>There was a general stir.</p> + +<p>"The second point is: I hate ribaldry and ribald talkers. Especially +ribald talkers! The third point: I love justice, truth and honesty." I +went on almost mechanically, for I was beginning to shiver with horror +myself and had no idea how I came to be talking like this. "I love +thought, Monsieur Zverkov; I love true comradeship, on an equal footing +and not.... H'm ... I love.... But, however, why not? I will drink your +health, too, Mr. Zverkov. Seduce the Circassian girls, shoot the enemies +of the fatherland and ... and ... to your health, Monsieur Zverkov!"</p> + +<p>Zverkov got up from his seat, bowed to me and said:</p> + +<p>"I am very much obliged to you." He was frightfully offended and +turned pale.</p> + +<p>"Damn the fellow!" roared Trudolyubov, bringing his fist down on the +table.</p> + +<p>"Well, he wants a punch in the face for that," squealed +Ferfitchkin.</p> + +<p>"We ought to turn him out," muttered Simonov.</p> + +<p>"Not a word, gentlemen, not a movement!" cried Zverkov solemnly, +checking the general indignation. "I thank you all, but I can show him +for myself how much value I attach to his words."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Ferfitchkin, you will give me satisfaction to-morrow for your +words just now!" I said aloud, turning with dignity to Ferfitchkin.</p> + +<p>"A duel, you mean? Certainly," he answered. But probably I was so +ridiculous as I challenged him and it was so out of keeping with my +appearance that everyone, including Ferfitchkin, was prostrate with +laughter.</p> + +<p>"Yes, let him alone, of course! He is quite drunk," Trudolyubov said +with disgust.</p> + +<p>"I shall never forgive myself for letting him join us," Simonov +muttered again.</p> + +<p>"Now is the time to throw a bottle at their heads," I thought to +myself. I picked up the bottle ... and filled my glass.... "No, I'd +better sit on to the end," I went on thinking; "you would be pleased, my +friends if I went away. Nothing will induce me to go. I'll go on sitting +here and drinking to the end, on purpose, as a sign that I don't think +you of the slightest consequence. I will go on sitting and drinking, +because this is a public-house and I paid my entrance money. I'll sit +here and drink, for I look upon you as so many pawns, as inanimate +pawns. I'll sit here and drink ... and sing if I want to, yes, sing, for +I have the right to ... to sing.... H'm!"</p> + +<p>But I did not sing. I simply tried not to look at any of them. I +assumed most unconcerned attitudes and waited with impatience for them +to speak <i>first</i>. But alas, they did not address me! And oh, how I +wished, how I wished at that moment to be reconciled to them! It struck +eight, at last nine. They moved from the table to the sofa. Zverkov +stretched himself on a lounge and put one foot on a round table. Wine +was brought there. He did, as a fact, order three bottles on his own +account. I, of course, was not invited to join them. They all sat round +him on the sofa. They listened to him, almost with reverence. It was +evident that they were fond of him. "What for? What for?" I wondered. +From time to time they were moved to drunken enthusiasm and kissed each +other. They talked of the Caucasus, of the nature of true passion, of +snug berths in the service, of the income of an hussar called +Podharzhevsky, whom none of them knew personally, and rejoiced in the +largeness of it, of the extraordinary grace and beauty of a Princess D., +whom none of them had ever seen; then it came to Shakespeare's being +immortal.</p> + +<p>I smiled contemptuously and walked up and down the other side of the +room, opposite the sofa, from the table to the stove and back again. I +tried my very utmost to show them that I could do without them, and yet +I purposely made a noise with my boots, thumping with my heels. But it +was all in vain. They paid no attention. I had the patience to walk up +and down in front of them from eight o'clock till eleven, in the same +place, from the table to the stove and back again. "I walk up and down +to please myself and no one can prevent me." The waiter who came into +the room stopped, from time to time, to look at me. I was somewhat giddy +from turning round so often; at moments it seemed to me that I was in +delirium. During those three hours I was three times soaked with sweat +and dry again. At times, with an intense, acute pang I was stabbed to +the heart by the thought that ten years, twenty years, forty years would +pass, and that even in forty years I would remember with loathing and +humiliation those filthiest, most ludicrous, and most awful moments of +my life. No one could have gone out of his way to degrade himself more +shamelessly, and I fully realized it, fully, and yet I went on pacing up +and down from the table to the stove. "Oh, if you only knew what +thoughts and feelings I am capable of, how cultured I am!" I thought at +moments, mentally addressing the sofa on which my enemies were sitting. +But my enemies behaved as though I were not in the room. Once—only +once—they turned towards me, just when Zverkov was talking about +Shakespeare, and I suddenly gave a contemptuous laugh. I laughed in such +an affected and disgusting way that they all at once broke off their +conversation, and silently and gravely for two minutes watched me +walking up and down from the table to the stove, <i>taking no notice of +them</i>. But nothing came of it: they said nothing, and two minutes +later they ceased to notice me again. It struck eleven.</p> + +<p>"Friends," cried Zverkov getting up from the sofa, "let us all be off +now, <i>there</i>!"</p> + +<p>"Of course, of course," the others assented. I turned sharply to +Zverkov. I was so harassed, so exhausted, that I would have cut my +throat to put an end to it. I was in a fever; my hair, soaked with +perspiration, stuck to my forehead and temples.</p> + +<p>"Zverkov, I beg your pardon," I said abruptly and resolutely. +"Ferfitchkin, yours too, and every one's, every one's: I have insulted +you all!"</p> + +<p>"Aha! A duel is not in your line, old man," Ferfitchkin hissed +venomously.</p> + +<p>It sent a sharp pang to my heart.</p> + +<p>"No, it's not the duel I am afraid of, Ferfitchkin! I am ready to +fight you to-morrow, after we are reconciled. I insist upon it, in fact, +and you cannot refuse. I want to show you that I am not afraid of a +duel. You shall fire first and I shall fire into the air."</p> + +<p>"He is comforting himself," said Simonov.</p> + +<p>"He's simply raving," said Trudolyubov.</p> + +<p>"But let us pass. Why are you barring our way? What do you want?" +Zverkov answered disdainfully.</p> + +<p>They were all flushed; their eyes were bright: they had been drinking +heavily.</p> + +<p>"I ask for your friendship, Zverkov; I insulted you, but...."</p> + +<p>"Insulted? <i>You</i> insulted <i>me</i>? Understand, sir, that you +never, under any circumstances, could possibly insult <i>me</i>."</p> + +<p>"And that's enough for you. Out of the way!" concluded +Trudolyubov.</p> + +<p>"Olympia is mine, friends, that's agreed!" cried Zverkov.</p> + +<p>"We won't dispute your right, we won't dispute your right," the +others answered, laughing.</p> + +<p>I stood as though spat upon. The party went noisily out of the room. +Trudolyubov struck up some stupid song. Simonov remained behind for a +moment to tip the waiters. I suddenly went up to him.</p> + +<p>"Simonov! give me six roubles!" I said, with desperate +resolution.</p> + +<p>He looked at me in extreme amazement, with vacant eyes. He, too, was +drunk.</p> + +<p>"You don't mean you are coming with us?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"I've no money," he snapped out, and with a scornful laugh he went +out of the room.</p> + +<p>I clutched at his overcoat. It was a nightmare.</p> + +<p>"Simonov, I saw you had money. Why do you refuse me? <ins +title="'And' in the original">Am</ins> I a scoundrel? Beware of refusing +me: if you knew, if you knew why I am asking! My whole future, my whole +plans depend upon it!"</p> + +<p>Simonov pulled out the money and almost flung it at me.</p> + +<p>"Take it, if you have no sense of shame!" he pronounced pitilessly, +and ran to overtake them.</p> + +<p>I was left for a moment alone. Disorder, the remains of dinner, a +broken wine-glass on the floor, spilt wine, cigarette ends, fumes of +drink and delirium in my brain, an agonizing misery in my heart and +finally the waiter, who had seen and heard all and was looking +inquisitively into my face.</p> + +<p>"I am going there!" I cried. "Either they shall all go down on their +knees to beg for my friendship, or I will give Zverkov a slap in the +face!"</p> + +<p class="p4 center">V</p> + +<p class="p2">"So this is it, this is it at last—contact with real +life," I muttered as I ran headlong downstairs. "This is very different +from the Pope's leaving Rome and going to Brazil, very different from +the ball on Lake Como!"</p> + +<p>"You are a scoundrel," a thought flashed through my mind, "if you +laugh at this now."</p> + +<p>"No matter!" I cried, answering myself. "Now everything is lost!"</p> + +<p>There was no trace to be seen of them, but that made no +difference—I knew where they had gone.</p> + +<p>At the steps was standing a solitary night sledge-driver in a rough +peasant coat, powdered over with the still falling, wet, and as it were +warm, snow. It was hot and steamy. The little shaggy piebald horse was +also covered with snow and coughing, I remember that very well. I made a +rush for the roughly made sledge; but as soon as I raised my foot to get +into it, the recollection of how Simonov had just given me six roubles +seemed to double me up and I tumbled into the sledge like a sack.</p> + +<p>"No, I must do a great deal to make up for all that," I cried. "But I +will make up for it or perish on the spot this very night. Start!"</p> + +<p>We set off. There was a perfect whirl in my head.</p> + +<p>"They won't go down on their knees to beg for my friendship. That is +a mirage, cheap mirage, revolting, romantic and fantastical—that's +another ball on Lake Como. And so I am bound to slap Zverkov's face! It +is my duty to. And so it is settled; I am flying to give him a slap in +the face. Hurry up!"</p> + +<p>The driver tugged at the reins.</p> + +<p>"As soon as I go in I'll give it him. Ought I before giving him the +slap to say a few words by way of preface? No. I'll simply go in and +give it him. They will all be sitting in the drawing-room, and he with +Olympia on the sofa. That damned Olympia! She laughed at my looks on one +occasion and refused me. I'll pull Olympia's hair, pull Zverkov's ears! +No, better one ear, and pull him by it round the room. Maybe they will +all begin beating me and will kick me out. That's most likely, indeed. +No matter! Anyway, I shall first slap him; the initiative will be mine; +and by the laws of honour that is everything: he will be branded and +cannot wipe off the slap by any blows, by nothing but a duel. He will be +forced to fight. And let them beat me now. Let them, the ungrateful +wretches! Trudolyubov will beat me hardest, he is so strong; Ferfitchkin +will be sure to catch hold sideways and tug at my hair. But no matter, +no matter! That's what I am going for. The blockheads will be forced at +last to see the tragedy of it all! When they drag me to the door I shall +call out to them that in reality they are not worth my little finger. +Get on, driver, get on!" I cried to the driver. He started and flicked +his whip, I shouted so savagely.</p> + +<p>"We shall fight at daybreak, that's a settled thing. I've done with +the office. Ferfitchkin made a joke about it just now. But where can I +get pistols? Nonsense! I'll get my salary in advance and buy them. And +powder, and bullets? That's the second's business. And how can it all be +done by daybreak? And where am I to get a second? I have no friends. +Nonsense!" I cried, lashing myself up more and more. "It's of no +consequence! the first person I meet in the street is bound to be my +second, just as he would be bound to pull a drowning man out of water. +The most eccentric things may happen. Even if I were to ask the director +himself to be my second to-morrow, he would be bound to consent, if only +from a feeling of chivalry, and to keep the secret! Anton +Antonitch...."</p> + +<p>The fact is, that at that very minute the disgusting absurdity of my +plan and the other side of the question was clearer and more vivid to my +imagination than it could be to any one on earth. But....</p> + +<p>"Get on, driver, get on, you rascal, get on!"</p> + +<p>"Ugh, sir!" said the son of toil.</p> + +<p>Cold shivers suddenly ran down me. Wouldn't it be better ... to go +straight home? My God, my God! Why did I invite myself to this dinner +yesterday? But no, it's impossible. And my walking up and down for three +hours from the table to the stove? No, they, they and no one else must +pay for my walking up and down! They must wipe out this dishonour! Drive +on!</p> + +<p>And what if they give me into custody? They won't dare! They'll be +afraid of the scandal. And what if Zverkov is so contemptuous that he +refuses to fight a duel? He is sure to; but in that case I'll show them +... I will turn up at the posting station when he is setting off +to-morrow, I'll catch him by the leg, I'll pull off his coat when he +gets into the carriage. I'll get my teeth into his hand, I'll bite him. +"See what lengths you can drive a desperate man to!" He may hit me on +the head and they may belabour me from behind. I will shout to the +assembled multitude: "Look at this young puppy who is driving off to +captivate the Circassian girls after letting me spit in his face!"</p> + +<p>Of course, after that everything will be over! The office will have +vanished off the face of the earth. I shall be arrested, I shall be +tried, I shall be dismissed from the service, thrown in prison, sent to +Siberia. Never mind! In fifteen years when they let me out of prison I +will trudge off to him, a beggar, in rags. I shall find him in some +provincial town. He will be married and happy. He will have a grown-up +daughter.... I shall say to him: "Look, monster, at my hollow cheeks and +my rags! I've lost everything—my career, my happiness, art, +science, <i>the woman I loved</i>, and all through you. Here are +pistols. I have come to discharge my pistol and ... and I ... forgive +you. Then I shall fire into the air and he will hear nothing more of +me...."</p> + +<p>I was actually on the point of tears, though I knew perfectly well at +that moment that all this was out of Pushkin's <i>Silvio</i> and +Lermontov's <i>Masquerade</i>. And all at once I felt horribly ashamed, +so ashamed that I stopped the horse, got out of the sledge, and stood +still in the snow in the middle of the street. The driver gazed at me, +sighing and astonished.</p> + +<p>What was I to do? I could not go on there—it was evidently +stupid, and I could not leave things as they were, because that would +seem as though.... Heavens, how could I leave things! And after such +insults! "No!" I cried, throwing myself into the sledge again. "It is +ordained! It is fate! Drive on, drive on!"</p> + +<p>And in my impatience I punched the sledge-driver on the back of the +neck.</p> + +<p>"What are you up to? What are you hitting me for?" the peasant +shouted, but he whipped up his nag so that it began kicking.</p> + +<p>The wet snow was falling in big flakes; I unbuttoned myself, +regardless of it. I forgot everything else, for I had finally decided on +the slap, and felt with horror that it was going to happen <i>now, at +once</i>, and that <i>no force could stop it</i>. The deserted street +lamps gleamed sullenly in the snowy darkness like torches at a funeral. +The snow drifted under my great-coat, under my coat, under my cravat, +and melted there. I did not wrap myself up—all was lost, +anyway.</p> + +<p>At last we arrived. I jumped out, almost unconscious, ran up the +steps and began knocking and kicking at the door. I felt fearfully weak, +particularly in my legs and my knees. The door was opened quickly as +though they knew I was coming. As a fact, Simonov had warned them that +perhaps another gentleman would arrive, and this was a place in which +one had to give notice and to observe certain precautions. It was one of +those "millinery establishments" which were abolished by the police a +good time ago. By day it really was a shop; but at night, if one had an +introduction, one might visit it for other purposes.</p> + +<p>I walked rapidly through the dark shop into the familiar +drawing-room, where there was only one candle burning, and stood still +in amazement: there was no one there. "Where are they?" I asked +somebody. But by now, of course, they had separated. Before me was +standing a person with a stupid smile, the "madam" herself, who had seen +me before. A minute later a door opened and another person came in.</p> + +<p>Taking no notice of anything I strode about the room, and, I believe, +I talked to myself. I felt as though I had been saved from death and was +conscious of this, joyfully, all over: I should have given that slap, I +should certainly, certainly have given it! But now they were not here +and ... everything had vanished and changed! I looked round. I could not +realize my condition yet. I looked mechanically at the girl who had come +in: and had a glimpse of a fresh, young, rather pale face, with +straight, dark eyebrows, and with grave, as it were wondering, eyes that +attracted me at once; I should have hated her if she had been smiling. I +began looking at her more intently and, as it were, with effort. I had +not fully collected my thoughts. There was something simple and +good-natured in her face, but something strangely grave. I am sure that +this stood in her way here, and no one of those fools had noticed her. +She could not, however, have been called a beauty, though she was tall, +strong-looking, and well built. She was very simply dressed. Something +loathsome stirred within me. I went straight up to her.</p> + +<p>I chanced to look into the glass. My harassed face struck me as +revolting in the extreme, pale, angry, abject, with dishevelled hair. +"No matter, I am glad of it," I thought; "I am glad that I shall seem +repulsive to her; I like that."</p> + +<p class="p4 center">VI</p> + +<p class="p2">... Somewhere behind a screen a clock began wheezing, as +though oppressed by something, as though some one were strangling it. +After an unnaturally prolonged wheezing there followed a shrill, nasty, +and as it were unexpectedly rapid, chime—as though some one were +suddenly jumping forward. It struck two. I woke up, though I had indeed +not been asleep but lying half conscious.</p> + +<p>It was almost completely dark in the narrow, cramped, low-pitched +room, cumbered up with an enormous wardrobe and piles of cardboard boxes +and all sorts of frippery and litter. The candle end that had been +burning on the table was going out and gave a faint flicker from time to +time. In a few minutes there would be complete darkness.</p> + +<p>I was not long in coming to myself; everything came back to my mind +at once, without an effort, as though it had been in ambush to pounce +upon me again. And, indeed, even while I was unconscious a point seemed +continually to remain in my memory unforgotten, and round it my dreams +moved drearily. But strange to say, everything that had happened to me +in that day seemed to me now, on waking, to be in the far, far away +past, as though I had long, long ago lived all that down.</p> + +<p>My head was full of fumes. Something seemed to be hovering over me, +rousing me, exciting me, and making me restless. Misery and spite seemed +surging up in me again and seeking an outlet. Suddenly I saw beside me +two wide open eyes scrutinizing me curiously and persistently. The look +in those eyes was coldly detached, sullen, as it were utterly remote; it +weighed upon me.</p> + +<p>A grim idea came into my brain and passed all over my body, as a +horrible sensation, such as one feels when one goes into a damp and +mouldy cellar. There was something unnatural in those two eyes, +beginning to look at me only now. I recalled, too, that during those two +hours I had not said a single word to this creature, and had, in fact, +considered it utterly superfluous; in fact, the silence had for some +reason gratified me. Now I suddenly realized vividly the hideous +idea—revolting as a spider—of vice, which, without love, +grossly and shamelessly begins with that in which true love finds its +consummation. For a long time we gazed at each other like that, but she +did not drop her eyes before mine and her expression did not change, so +that at last I felt uncomfortable.</p> + +<p>"What is your name?" I asked abruptly, to put an end to it.</p> + +<p>"Liza," she answered almost in a whisper, but somehow far from +graciously, and she turned her eyes away.</p> + +<p>I was silent.</p> + +<p>"What weather! The snow ... it's disgusting!" I said, almost to +myself, putting my arm under my head despondently, and gazing at the +ceiling.</p> + +<p>She made no answer. This was horrible.</p> + +<p>"Have you always lived in Petersburg?" I asked a minute later, almost +angrily, turning my head slightly towards her.</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Where do you come from?"</p> + +<p>"From Riga," she answered reluctantly.</p> + +<p>"Are you a German?"</p> + +<p>"No, Russian."</p> + +<p>"Have you been here long?"</p> + +<p>"Where?"</p> + +<p>"In this house?"</p> + +<p>"A fortnight."</p> + +<p>She spoke more and more jerkily. The candle went out; I could no +longer distinguish her face.</p> + +<p>"Have you a father and mother?"</p> + +<p>"Yes ... no ... I have."</p> + +<p>"Where are they?"</p> + +<p>"There ... in Riga."</p> + +<p>"What are they?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, nothing."</p> + +<p>"Nothing? Why, what class are they?"</p> + +<p>"Tradespeople."</p> + +<p>"Have you always lived with them?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"How old are you?"</p> + +<p>"Twenty."</p> + +<p>"Why did you leave them?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, for no reason."</p> + +<p>That answer meant "Let me alone; I feel sick, sad."</p> + +<p>We were silent.</p> + +<p>God knows why I did not go away. I felt myself more and more sick and +dreary. The images of the previous day began of themselves, apart from +my will, flitting through my memory in confusion. I suddenly recalled +something I had seen that morning when, full of anxious thoughts, I was +hurrying to the office.</p> + +<p>"I saw them carrying a coffin out yesterday and they nearly dropped +it," I suddenly said aloud, not that I desired to open the conversation, +but as it were by accident.</p> + +<p>"A coffin?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, in the Haymarket; they were bringing it up out of a +cellar."</p> + +<p>"From a cellar?"</p> + +<p>"Not from a cellar, but from a basement. Oh, you know ... down below +... from a house of ill-fame. It was filthy all round.... Egg-shells, +litter ... a stench. It was loathsome."</p> + +<p>Silence.</p> + +<p>"A nasty day to be buried," I began, simply to avoid being +silent.</p> + +<p>"Nasty, in what way?"</p> + +<p>"The snow, the wet." (I yawned.)</p> + +<p>"It makes no difference," she said suddenly, after a brief +silence.</p> + +<p>"No, it's horrid." (I yawned again.) "The gravediggers must have +sworn at getting drenched by the snow. And there must have been water in +the grave."</p> + +<p>"Why water in the grave?" she asked, with a sort of curiosity, but +speaking even more harshly and abruptly than before.</p> + +<p>I suddenly began to feel provoked.</p> + +<p>"Why, there must have been water at the bottom a foot deep. You can't +dig a dry grave in Volkovo Cemetery."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Why? Why, the place is waterlogged. It's a regular marsh. So they +bury them in water. I've seen it myself ... many times."</p> + +<p>(I had never seen it once, indeed I had never been in Volkovo, and +had only heard stories of it.)</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to say, you don't mind how you die?"</p> + +<p>"But why should I die?" she answered, as though defending +herself.</p> + +<p>"Why, some day you will die, and you will die just the same as that +dead woman. She was ... a girl like you. She died of consumption."</p> + +<p>"A wench would have died in hospital...." (She knows all about it +already: she said "wench," not "girl.")</p> + +<p>"She was in debt to her madam," I retorted, more and more provoked by +the discussion; "and went on earning money for her up to the end, though +she was in consumption. Some sledge-drivers standing by were talking +about her to some soldiers and telling them so. No doubt they knew her. +They were laughing. They were going to meet in a pot-house to drink to +her memory."</p> + +<p>A great deal of this was my invention. Silence followed, profound +silence. She did not stir.</p> + +<p>"And is it better to die in a hospital?"</p> + +<p>"Isn't it just the same? Besides, why should I die?" she added +irritably.</p> + +<p>"If not now, a little later."</p> + +<p>"Why a little later?"</p> + +<p>"Why, indeed? Now you are young, pretty, fresh, you fetch a high +price. But after another year of this life you will be very +different—you will go off."</p> + +<p>"In a year?"</p> + +<p>"Anyway, in a year you will be worth less," I continued malignantly. +"You will go from here to something lower, another house; a year +later—to a third, lower and lower, and in seven years you will +come to a basement in the Haymarket. That will be if you were lucky. But +it would be much worse if you got some disease, consumption, say ... and +caught a chill, or something or other. It's not easy to get over an +illness in your way of life. If you catch anything you may not get rid +of it. And so you would die."</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, then I shall die," she answered, quite vindictively, and +she made a quick movement.</p> + +<p>"But one is sorry."</p> + +<p>"Sorry for whom?"</p> + +<p>"Sorry for life."</p> + +<p>Silence.</p> + +<p>"Have you been engaged to be married? Eh?"</p> + +<p>"What's that to you?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I am not cross-examining you. It's nothing to me. Why are you so +cross? Of course you may have had your own troubles. What is it to me? +It's simply that I felt sorry."</p> + +<p>"Sorry for whom?"</p> + +<p>"Sorry for you."</p> + +<p>"No need," she whispered hardly audibly, and again made a faint +movement.</p> + +<p>That incensed me at once. What! I was so gentle with her, and +she....</p> + +<p>"Why, do you think that you are on the right path?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think anything."</p> + +<p>"That's what's wrong, that you don't think. Realize it while there is +still time. There still is time. You are still young, good-looking; you +might love, be married, be happy...."</p> + +<p>"Not all married women are happy," she snapped out in the rude abrupt +tone she had used at first.</p> + +<p>"Not all, of course, but anyway it is much better than the life here. +Infinitely better. Besides, with love one can live even without +happiness. Even in sorrow life is sweet; life is sweet, however one +lives. But here what is there but ... foulness. Phew!"</p> + +<p>I turned away with disgust; I was no longer reasoning coldly. I began +to feel myself what I was saying and warmed to the subject. I was +already longing to expound the cherished ideas I had brooded over in my +corner. Something suddenly flared up in me. An object had appeared +before me.</p> + +<p>"Never mind my being here, I am not an example for you. I am, +perhaps, worse than you are. I was drunk when I came here, though," I +hastened, however, to say in self-defence. "Besides, a man is no example +for a woman. It's a different thing. I may degrade and defile myself, +but I am not any one's slave. I come and go, and that's an end of it. I +shake it off, and I am a different man. But you are a slave from the +start. Yes, a slave! You give up everything, your whole freedom. If you +want to break your chains afterwards, you won't be able to: you will be +more and more fast in the snares. It is an accursed bondage. I know it. +I won't speak of anything else, maybe you won't understand, but tell me: +no doubt you are in debt to your madam? There, you see," I added, though +she made no answer, but only listened in silence, entirely absorbed, +"that's a bondage for you! You will never buy your freedom. They will +see to that. It's like selling your soul to the devil.... And besides +... perhaps I, too, am just as unlucky—how do you know—and +wallow in the mud on purpose, out of misery? You know, men take to drink +from grief; well, maybe I am here from grief. Come, tell me, what is +there good here? Here you and I ... came together ... just now and did +not say one word to one another all the time, and it was only afterwards +you began staring at me like a wild creature, and I at you. Is that +loving? Is that how one human being should meet another? It's hideous, +that's what it is!"</p> + +<p>"Yes!" she assented sharply and hurriedly.</p> + +<p>I was positively astounded by the promptitude of this "Yes." So the +same thought may have been straying through her mind when she was +staring at me just before. So she, too, was capable of certain thoughts? +"Damn it all, this was interesting, this was a point of likeness!" I +thought, almost rubbing my hands. And indeed it's easy to turn a young +soul like that!</p> + +<p>It was the exercise of my power that attracted me most.</p> + +<p>She turned her head nearer to me, and it seemed to me in the darkness +that she propped herself on her arm. Perhaps she was scrutinizing me. +How I regretted that I could not see her eyes. I heard her deep +breathing.</p> + +<p>"Why have you come here?" I asked her, with a note of authority +already in my voice.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know."</p> + +<p>"But how nice it would be to be living in your father's house! It's +warm and free; you have a home of your own."</p> + +<p>"But what if it's worse than this?"</p> + +<p>"I must take the right tone," flashed through my mind. "I may not get +far with sentimentality." But it was only a momentary thought. I swear +she really did interest me. Besides, I was exhausted and moody. And +cunning so easily goes hand-in-hand with feeling.</p> + +<p>"Who denies it!" I hastened to answer. "Anything may happen. I am +convinced that some one has wronged you, and that you are more sinned +against than sinning. Of course, I know nothing of your story, but it's +not likely a girl like you has come here of her own inclination...."</p> + +<p>"A girl like me?" she whispered, hardly audibly; but I heard it.</p> + +<p>Damn it all, I was flattering her. That was horrid. But perhaps it +was a good thing.... She was silent.</p> + +<p>"See, Liza, I will tell you about myself. If I had had a home from +childhood, I shouldn't be what I am now. I often think that. However bad +it may be at home, anyway they are your father and mother, and not +enemies, strangers. Once a year at least, they'll show their love of +you. Anyway, you know you are at home. I grew up without a home; and +perhaps that's why I've turned so ... unfeeling."</p> + +<p>I waited again. "Perhaps she doesn't understand," I thought, "and, +indeed, it is absurd—it's moralizing."</p> + +<p>"If I were a father and had a daughter, I believe I should love my +daughter more than my sons, really," I began indirectly, as though +talking of something else, to distract her attention. I must confess I +blushed.</p> + +<p>"Why so?" she asked.</p> + +<p>Ah! so she was listening!</p> + +<p>"I don't know, Liza. I knew a father who was a stern, austere man, +but used to go down on his knees to his daughter, used to kiss her +hands, her feet, he couldn't make enough of her, really. When she danced +at parties he used to stand for five hours at a stretch, gazing at her. +He was mad over her: I understand that! She would fall asleep tired at +night, and he would wake to kiss her in her sleep and make the sign of +the cross over her. He would go about in a dirty old coat, he was stingy +to every one else, but would spend his last penny for her, giving her +expensive presents, and it was his greatest delight when she was pleased +with what he gave her. Fathers always love their daughters more than the +mothers do. Some girls live happily at home! And I believe I should +never let my daughters marry."</p> + +<p>"What next?" she said, with a faint smile.</p> + +<p>"I should be jealous, I really should. To think that she should kiss +any one else! That she should love a stranger more than her father! It's +painful to imagine it. Of course, that's all nonsense, of course every +father would be reasonable at last. But I believe before I should let +her marry, I should worry myself to death; I should find fault with all +her suitors. But I should end by letting her marry whom she herself +loved. The one whom the daughter loves always seems the worst to the +father, you know. That is always so. So many family troubles come from +that."</p> + +<p>"Some are glad to sell their daughters, rather than marrying them +honourably."</p> + +<p>Ah, so that was it!</p> + +<p>"Such a thing, Liza, happens in those accursed families in which +there is neither love nor God," I retorted warmly, "and where there is +no love, there is no sense either. There are such families, it's true, +but I am not speaking of them. You must have seen wickedness in your own +family, if you talk like that. Truly, you must have been unlucky. H'm! +... that sort of thing mostly comes about through poverty."</p> + +<p>"And is it any better with the gentry? Even among the poor, honest +people live happily."</p> + +<p>"H'm ... yes. Perhaps. Another thing, Liza, man is fond of reckoning +up his troubles, but does not count his joys. If he counted them up as +he ought, he would see that every lot has enough happiness provided for +it. And what if all goes well with the family, if the blessing of God is +upon it, if the husband is a good one, loves you, cherishes you, never +leaves you! There is happiness in such a family! Even sometimes there is +happiness in the midst of sorrow; and indeed sorrow is everywhere. If +you marry <i>you will find out for yourself</i>. But think of the first +years of married life with one you love: what happiness, what happiness +there sometimes is in it! And indeed it's the ordinary thing. In those +early days even quarrels with one's husband end happily. Some women get +up quarrels with their husbands just because they love them. Indeed, I +knew a woman like that: she seemed to say that because she loved him, +she would torment him and make him feel it. You know that you may +torment a man on purpose through love. Women are particularly given to +that, thinking to themselves 'I will love him so, I will make so much of +him afterwards, that it's no sin to torment him a little now.' And all +in the house rejoice in the sight of you, and you are happy and gay and +peaceful and honourable.... Then there are some women who are jealous. +If he went off anywhere—I knew one such woman, she couldn't +restrain herself, but would jump up at night and run off on the sly to +find out where he was, whether he was with some other woman. That's a +pity. And the woman knows herself it's wrong, and her heart fails her +and she suffers, but she loves—it's all through love. And how +sweet it is to make it up after quarrels, to own herself in the wrong or +to forgive him! And they are both so happy all at once—as though +they had met anew, been married over again; as though their love had +begun afresh. And no one, no one should know what passes between husband +and wife if they love one another. And whatever quarrels there may be +between them they ought not to call in their own mother to judge between +them and tell tales of one another. They are their own judges. Love is a +holy mystery and ought to be hidden from all other eyes, whatever +happens. That makes it holier and better. They respect one another more, +and much is built on respect. And if once there has been love, if they +have been married for love, why should love pass away? Surely one can +keep it! It is rare that one cannot keep it. And if the husband is kind +and straightforward, why should not love last? The first phase of +married love will pass, it is true, but then there will come a love that +is better still. Then there will be the union of souls, they will have +everything in common, there will be no secrets between them. And once +they have children, the most difficult times will seem to them happy, so +long as there is love and courage. Even toil will be a joy, you may deny +yourself bread for your children and even that will be a joy. They will +love you for it afterwards; so you are laying by for your future. As the +children grow up you feel that you are an example, a support for them; +that even after you die your children will always keep your thoughts and +feelings, because they have received them from you, they will take on +your semblance and likeness. So you see this is a great duty. How can it +fail to draw the father and mother nearer? People say it's a trial to +have children. Who says that? It is heavenly happiness! Are you fond of +little children, Liza? I am awfully fond of them. You know—a +little rosy baby boy at your bosom, and what husband's heart is not +touched, seeing his wife nursing his child! A plump little rosy baby, +sprawling and snuggling, chubby little hands and feet, clean tiny little +nails, so tiny that it makes one laugh to look at them; eyes that look +as if they understand everything. And while it sucks it clutches at your +bosom with its little hand, plays. When its father comes up, the child +tears itself away from the bosom, flings itself back, looks at its +father, laughs, as though it were fearfully funny and falls to sucking +again. Or it will bite its mother's breast when its little teeth are +coming, while it looks sideways at her with its little eyes as though to +say, 'Look, I am biting!' Is not all that happiness when they are the +three together, husband, wife and child? One can forgive a great deal +for the sake of such moments. Yes, Liza, one must first learn to live +oneself before one blames others!"</p> + +<p>"It's by pictures, pictures like that one must get at you," I thought +to myself, though I did speak with real feeling, and all at once I +flushed crimson. "What if she were suddenly to burst out laughing, what +should I do then?" That idea drove me to fury. Towards the end of my +speech I really was excited, and now my vanity was somehow wounded. The +silence continued. I almost nudged her.</p> + +<p>"Why are you——" she began and stopped. But I understood: +there was a quiver of something different in her voice, not abrupt, +harsh and unyielding as before, but something soft and shamefaced, so +shamefaced that I suddenly felt ashamed and guilty.</p> + +<p>"What?" I asked, with tender curiosity.</p> + +<p>"Why, you...."</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"Why, you ... speak somehow like a book," she said, and again there +was a note of irony in her voice.</p> + +<p>That remark sent a pang to my heart. It was not what I was +expecting.</p> + +<p>I did not understand that she was hiding her feelings under irony, +that this is usually the last refuge of modest and chaste-souled people +when the privacy of their soul is coarsely and intrusively invaded, and +that their pride makes them refuse to surrender till the last moment and +shrink from giving expression to their feelings before you. I ought to +have guessed the truth from the timidity with which she had repeatedly +approached her sarcasm, only bringing herself to utter it at last with +an effort. But I did not guess, and an evil feeling took possession of +me.</p> + +<p>"Wait a bit!" I thought.</p> + +<p class="p4 center">VII</p> + +<p class="p2">"Oh, hush, Liza! How can you talk about being like a book, +when it makes even me, an outsider, feel sick? Though I don't look at it +as an outsider, for, indeed, it touches me to the heart.... Is it +possible, is it possible that you do not feel sick at being here +yourself? Evidently habit does wonders! God knows what habit can do with +any one. Can you seriously think that you will never grow old, that you +will always be good-looking, and that they will keep you here for ever +and ever? I say nothing of the loathsomeness of the life here.... Though +let me tell you this about it—about your present life, I mean; +here though you are young now, attractive, nice, with soul and feeling, +yet you know as soon as I came to myself just now I felt at once sick at +being here with you! One can only come here when one is drunk. But if +you were anywhere else, living as good people live, I should perhaps be +more than attracted by you, should fall in love with you, should be glad +of a look from you, let alone a word; I should hang about your door, +should go down on my knees to you, should look upon you as my betrothed +and think it an honour to be allowed to. I should not dare to have an +impure thought about you. But here, you see, I know that I have only to +whistle and you have to come with me whether you like it or not. I don't +consult your wishes, but you mine. The lowest labourer hires himself as +a workman but he doesn't make a slave of himself altogether; besides, he +knows that he will be free again presently. But when are you free? Only +think what you are giving up here? What is it you are making a slave of? +It is your soul, together with your body; you are selling your soul +which you have no right to dispose of! You give your love to be outraged +by every drunkard! Love! But that's everything, you know, it's a +priceless diamond, it's a maiden's treasure, love—why, a man would +be ready to give his soul, to face death to gain that love. But how much +is your love worth now? You are sold, all of you, body and soul, and +there is no need to strive for love when you can have everything without +love. And you know there is no greater insult to a girl than that, do +you understand? To be sure, I have heard that they comfort you, poor +fools, they let you have lovers of your own here. But you know that's +simply a farce, that's simply a sham, it's just laughing at you, and you +are taken in by it! Why, do you suppose he really loves you, that lover +of yours? I don't believe it. How can he love you when he knows you may +be called away from him any minute? He would be a low fellow if he did! +Will he have a grain of respect for you? What have you in common with +him? He laughs at you and robs you—that is all his love amounts +to! You are lucky if he does not beat you. Very likely he does beat you, +too. Ask him, if you have got one, whether he will marry you. He will +laugh in your face, if he doesn't spit in it or give you a +blow—though maybe he is not worth a bad halfpenny himself. And for +what have you ruined your life, if you come to think of it? For the +coffee they give you to drink and the plentiful meals? But with what +object are they feeding you up? An honest girl couldn't swallow the +food, for she would know what she was being fed for. You are in debt +here, and, of course, you will always be in debt, and you will go on in +debt to the end, till the visitors here begin to scorn you. And that +will soon happen, don't rely upon your youth—all that flies by +express train here, you know. You will be kicked out. And not simply +kicked out; long before that she'll begin nagging at you, scolding you, +abusing you, as though you had not sacrificed your health for her, had +not thrown away your youth and your soul for her benefit, but as though +you had ruined her, beggared her, robbed her. And don't expect any one +to take your part: the others, your companions, will attack you, too, to +win her favour, for all are in slavery here, and have lost all +conscience and pity here long ago. They have become utterly vile, and +nothing on earth is viler, more loathsome, and more insulting than their +abuse. And you are laying down everything here, unconditionally, youth +and health and beauty and hope, and at twenty-two you will look like a +woman of five-and-thirty, and you will be lucky if you are not diseased, +pray to God for that! No doubt you are thinking now that you have a gay +time and no work to do! Yet there is no work harder or more dreadful in +the world or ever has been. One would think that the heart alone would +be worn out with tears. And you won't dare to say a word, not half a +word when they drive you away from here; you will go away as though you +were to blame. You will change to another house, then to a third, then +somewhere else, till you come down at last to the Haymarket. There you +will be beaten at every turn; that is good manners there, the visitors +don't know how to be friendly without beating you. You don't believe +that it is so hateful there? Go and look for yourself some time, you can +see with your own eyes. Once, one New Year's Day, I saw a woman at a +door. They had turned her out as a joke, to give her a taste of the +frost because she had been crying so much, and they shut the door behind +her. At nine o'clock in the morning she was already quite drunk, +dishevelled, half-naked, covered with bruises, her face was powdered, +but she had a black eye, blood was trickling from her nose and her +teeth; some cabman had just given her a drubbing. She was sitting on the +stone steps, a salt fish of some sort was in her hand; she was crying, +wailing something about her luck and beating with the fish on the steps, +and cabmen and drunken soldiers were crowding in the doorway taunting +her. You don't believe that you will ever be like that? I should be +sorry to believe it, too, but how do you know; maybe ten years, eight +years ago that very woman with the salt fish came here fresh as a +cherub, innocent, pure, knowing no evil, blushing at every word. Perhaps +she was like you, proud, ready to take offence, not like the others; +perhaps she looked like a queen, and knew what happiness was in store +for the man who should love her and whom she should love. Do you see how +it ended? And what if at that very minute when she was beating on the +filthy steps with that fish, drunken and dishevelled—what if at +that very minute she recalled the pure early days in her father's house, +when she used to go to school and the neighbour's son watched for her on +the way, declaring that he would love her as long as he lived, that he +would devote his life to her, and when they vowed to love one another +for ever and be married as soon as they were grown up! No, Liza, it +would be happy for you if you were to die soon of consumption in some +corner, in some cellar like that woman just now. In the hospital, do you +say? You will be lucky if they take you, but what if you are still of +use to the madam here? Consumption is a queer disease, it is not like +fever. The patient goes on hoping till the last minute and says he is +all right. He deludes himself. And that just suits your madam. Don't +doubt it, that's how it is; you have sold your soul, and what is more +you owe money, so you daren't say a word. But when you are dying, all +will abandon you, all will turn away from you, for then there will be +nothing to get from you. What's more, they will reproach you for +cumbering the place, for being so long over dying. However you beg you +won't get a drink of water without abuse: 'Whenever are you going off, +you nasty hussy, you won't let us sleep with your moaning, you make the +gentlemen sick.' That's true, I have heard such things said myself. They +will thrust you dying into the filthiest corner in the cellar—in +the damp and darkness; what will your thoughts be, lying there alone? +When you die, strange hands will lay you out, with grumbling and +impatience; no one will bless you, no one will sigh for you, they only +want to get rid of you as soon as may be; they will buy a coffin, take +you to the grave as they did that poor woman to-day, and celebrate your +memory at the tavern. In the grave sleet, filth, wet snow—no need +to put themselves out for you—'Let her down, Vanuha; it's just +like her luck—even here, she is head-foremost, the hussy. Shorten +the cord, you rascal.' 'It's all right as it is.' 'All right, is it? +Why, she's on her side! She was a fellow-creature, after all! But, never +mind, throw the earth on her.' And they won't care to waste much time +quarrelling over you. They will scatter the wet blue clay as quick as +they can and go off to the tavern ... and there your memory on earth +will end; other women have children to go to their graves, fathers, +husbands. While for you neither tear, nor sigh, nor remembrance; no one +in the whole world will ever come to you, your name will vanish from the +face of the earth—as though you had never existed, never been born +at all! Nothing but filth and mud, however you knock at your coffin lid +at night, when the dead arise, however you cry: 'Let me out, kind +people, to live in the light of day! My life was no life at all; my life +has been thrown away like a dish-clout; it was drunk away in the tavern +at the Haymarket; let me out, kind people, to live in the world +again.'"</p> + +<p>And I worked myself up to such a pitch that I began to have a lump in +my throat myself, and ... and all at once I stopped, sat up in dismay, +and bending over apprehensively, began to listen with a beating heart. I +had reason to be troubled.</p> + +<p>I had felt for some time that I was turning her soul upside down and +rending her heart, and—and the more I was convinced of it, the +more eagerly I desired to gain my object as quickly and as effectually +as possible. It was the exercise of my skill that carried me away; yet +it was not merely sport....</p> + +<p>I knew I was speaking stiffly, artificially, even bookishly, in fact, +I could not speak except "like a book." But that did not trouble me: I +knew, I felt that I should be understood and that this very bookishness +might be an assistance. But now, having attained my effect, I was +suddenly panic-stricken. Never before had I witnessed such despair! She +was lying on her face, thrusting her face into the pillow and clutching +it in both hands. Her heart was being torn. Her youthful body was +shuddering all over as though in convulsions. Suppressed sobs rent her +bosom and suddenly burst out in weeping and wailing, then she pressed +closer into the pillow: she did not want any one here, not a living +soul, to know of her anguish and her tears. She bit the pillow, bit her +hand till it bled (I saw that afterwards), or, thrusting her fingers +into her dishevelled hair seemed rigid with the effort of restraint, +holding her breath and clenching her teeth. I began saying something, +begging her to calm herself, but felt that I did not dare; and all at +once, in a sort of cold shiver, almost in terror, began fumbling in the +dark, trying hurriedly to get dressed to go. It was dark: though I tried +my best I could not finish dressing quickly. Suddenly I felt a box of +matches and a candlestick with a whole candle in it. As soon as the room +was lighted up, Liza sprang up, sat up in bed, and with a contorted +face, with a half insane smile, looked at me almost senselessly. I sat +down beside her and took her hands; she came to herself, made an +impulsive movement towards me, would have caught hold of me, but did not +dare, and slowly bowed her head before me.</p> + +<p>"Liza, my dear, I was wrong ... forgive me, my dear," I began, but +she squeezed my hand in her fingers so tightly that I felt I was saying +the wrong thing and stopped.</p> + +<p>"This is my address, Liza, come to me."</p> + +<p>"I will come," she answered resolutely, her head still bowed.</p> + +<p>"But now I am going, good-bye ... till we meet again."</p> + +<p>I got up; she, too, stood up and suddenly flushed all over, gave a +shudder, snatched up a shawl that was lying on a chair and muffled +herself in it to her chin. As she did this she gave another sickly +smile, blushed and looked at me strangely. I felt wretched; I was in +haste to get away—to disappear.</p> + +<p>"Wait a minute," she said suddenly, in the passage just at the +doorway, stopping me with her hand on my overcoat. She put down the +candle in hot haste and ran off; evidently she had thought of something +or wanted to show me something. As she ran away she flushed, her eyes +shone, and there was a smile on her lips—what was the meaning of +it? Against my will I waited: she came back a minute later with an +expression that seemed to ask forgiveness for something. In fact, it was +not the same face, not the same look as the evening before: sullen, +mistrustful and obstinate. Her eyes now were imploring, soft, and at the +same time trustful, caressing, timid. The expression with which children +look at people they are very fond of, of whom they are asking a favour. +Her eyes were a light hazel, they were lovely eyes, full of life, and +capable of expressing love as well as sullen hatred.</p> + +<p>Making no explanation, as though I, as a sort of higher being, must +understand everything without explanations, she held out a piece of +paper to me. Her whole face was positively beaming at that instant with +naïve, almost childish, triumph. I unfolded it. It was a letter to her +from a medical student or some one of that sort—a very high-flown +and flowery, but extremely respectful, love-letter. I don't recall the +words now, but I remember well that through the high-flown phrases there +was apparent a genuine feeling, which cannot be feigned. When I had +finished reading it I met her glowing, questioning, and childishly +impatient eyes fixed upon me. She fastened her eyes upon my face and +waited impatiently for what I should say. In a few words, hurriedly, but +with a sort of joy and pride, she explained to me that she had been to a +dance somewhere in a private house, a family of "very nice people, +<i>who knew nothing</i>, absolutely nothing, for she had only come here +so lately and it had all happened ... and she hadn't made up her mind to +stay and was certainly going away as soon as she had paid her debt ... +and at that party there had been the student who had danced with her all +the evening. He had talked to her, and it turned out that he had known +her in old days at Riga when he was a child, they had played together, +but a very long time ago—and he knew her parents, but <i>about +this</i> he knew nothing, nothing whatever, and had no suspicion! And +the day after the dance (three days ago) he had sent her that letter +through the friend with whom she had gone to the party ... and ... well, +that was all."</p> + +<p>She dropped her shining eyes with a sort of bashfulness as she +finished.</p> + +<p>The poor girl was keeping that student's letter as a precious +treasure, and had run to fetch it, her only treasure, because she did +not want me to go away without knowing that she, too, was honestly and +genuinely loved; that she, too, was addressed respectfully. No doubt +that letter was destined to lie in her box and lead to nothing. But none +the less, I am certain that she would keep it all her life as a precious +treasure, as her pride and justification, and now at such a minute she +had thought of that letter and brought it with naïve pride to raise +herself in my eyes that I might see, that I, too, might think well of +her. I said nothing, pressed her hand and went out. I so longed to get +away.... I walked all the way home, in spite of the fact that the +melting snow was still falling in heavy flakes. I was exhausted, +shattered, in bewilderment. But behind the bewilderment the truth was +already gleaming. The loathsome truth.</p> + +<p class="p4 center">VIII</p> + +<p class="p2">It was some time, however, before I consented to recognize +that truth. Waking up in the morning after some hours of heavy, leaden +sleep, and immediately realizing all that had happened on the previous +day, I was positively amazed at my last night's <i>sentimentality</i> +with Liza, at all those "outcries of horror and pity." "To think of +having such an attack of womanish hysteria, pah!" I concluded. And what +did I thrust my address upon her for? What if she comes? Let her come, +though; it doesn't matter.... But <i>obviously</i>, that was not now the +chief and the most important matter: I had to make haste and at all +costs save my reputation in the eyes of Zverkov and Simonov as quickly +as possible; that was the chief business. And I was so taken up that +morning that I actually forgot all about Liza.</p> + +<p>First of all I had at once to repay what I had borrowed the day +before from Simonov. I resolved on a desperate measure: to borrow +fifteen roubles straight off from Anton Antonitch. As luck would have it +he was in the best of humours that morning, and gave it to me at once, +on the first asking. I was so delighted at this that, as I signed the I +O U with a swaggering air, I told him casually that the night before "I +had been keeping it up with some friends at the Hôtel de Paris; we were +giving a farewell party to a comrade, in fact, I might say a friend of +my childhood, and you know—a desperate rake, fearfully +spoilt—of course, he belongs to a good family, and has +considerable means, a brilliant career; he is witty, charming, a regular +Lovelace, you understand; we drank an extra 'half-dozen' and...."</p> + +<p>And it went off all right; all this was uttered very easily, +unconstrainedly and complacently.</p> + +<p>On reaching home I promptly wrote to Simonov.</p> + +<p>To this hour I am lost in admiration when I recall the truly +gentlemanly, good-humoured, candid tone of my letter. With tact and +good-breeding, and, above all, entirely without superfluous words, I +blamed myself for all that had happened. I defended myself, "if I really +may be allowed to defend myself," by alleging that being utterly +unaccustomed to wine, I had been intoxicated with the first glass, which +I said, I had drunk before they arrived, while I was waiting for them at +the Hôtel de Paris between five and six o'clock. I begged Simonov's +pardon especially; I asked him to convey my explanations to all the +others, especially to Zverkov, whom "I seemed to remember as though in a +dream" I had insulted. I added that I would have called upon all of them +myself, but my head ached, and besides I had not the face to. I was +particularly pleased with a certain lightness, almost carelessness +(strictly within the bounds of politeness, however), which was apparent +in my style, and better than any possible arguments, gave them at once +to understand that I took rather an independent view of "all that +unpleasantness last night;" that I was by no means so utterly crushed as +you, my friends, probably imagine; but on the contrary, looked upon it +as a gentleman serenely respecting himself should look upon it. "On a +young hero's past no censure is cast!"</p> + +<p>"There is actually an aristocratic playfulness about it!" I thought +admiringly, as I read over the letter. And it's all because I am an +intellectual and cultivated man! Another man in my place would not have +known how to extricate himself, but here I have got out of it and am as +jolly as ever again, and all because I am "a cultivated and educated man +of our day." And, indeed, perhaps, everything was due to the wine +yesterday. H'm! ... no, it was not the wine. I did not drink anything at +all between five and six when I was waiting for them. I had lied to +Simonov; I had lied shamelessly; and indeed I wasn't ashamed now.... +Hang it all though, the great thing was that I was rid of it.</p> + +<p>I put six roubles in the letter, sealed it up, and asked Apollon to +take it to Simonov. When he learned that there was money in the letter, +Apollon became more respectful and agreed to take it. Towards evening I +went out for a walk. My head was still aching and giddy after yesterday. +But as evening came on and the twilight grew denser, my impressions and, +following them, my thoughts, grew more and more different and confused. +Something was not dead within me, in the depths of my heart and +conscience it would not die, and it showed itself in acute depression. +For the most part I jostled my way through the most crowded business +streets, along Myeshtchansky Street, along Sadovy Street and in Yusupov +Garden. I always liked particularly sauntering along these streets in +the dusk, just when there were crowds of working people of all sorts +going home from their daily work, with faces looking cross with anxiety. +What I liked was just that cheap bustle, that bare prose. On this +occasion the jostling of the streets irritated me more than ever. I +could not make out what was wrong with me, I could not find the clue, +something seemed rising up continually in my soul, painfully, and +refusing to be appeased. I returned home completely upset, it was just +as though some crime were lying on my conscience.</p> + +<p>The thought that Liza was coming worried me continually. It seemed +queer to me that of all my recollections of yesterday this tormented me, +as it were, especially, as it were, quite separately. Everything else I +had quite succeeded in forgetting by the evening; I dismissed it all and +was still perfectly satisfied with my letter to Simonov. But on this +point I was not satisfied at all. It was as though I were worried only +by Liza. "What if she comes," I thought incessantly, "well, it doesn't +matter, let her come! H'm! it's horrid that she should see, for +instance, how I live. Yesterday I seemed such a hero to her, while now, +h'm! It's horrid, though, that I have let myself go so, the room looks +like a beggar's. And I brought myself to go out to dinner in such a +suit! And my American leather sofa with the stuffing sticking out. And +my dressing-gown, which will not cover me, such tatters, and she will +see all this and she will see Apollon. That beast is certain to insult +her. He will fasten upon her in order to be rude to me. And I, of +course, shall be panic-stricken as usual, I shall begin bowing and +scraping before her and pulling my dressing-gown round me, I shall begin +smiling, telling lies. Oh, the beastliness! And it isn't the beastliness +of it that matters most! There is something more important, more +loathsome, viler! Yes, viler! And to put on that dishonest lying mask +again!"...</p> + +<p>When I reached that thought I fired up all at once.</p> + +<p>"Why dishonest? How dishonest? I was speaking sincerely last night. I +remember there was real feeling in me, too. What I wanted was to excite +an honourable feeling in her.... Her crying was a good thing, it will +have a good effect."</p> + +<p>Yet I could not feel at ease. All that evening, even when I had come +back home, even after nine o'clock, when I calculated that Liza could +not possibly come, she still haunted me, and what was worse, she came +back to my mind always in the same position. One moment out of all that +had happened last night stood vividly before my imagination; the moment +when I struck a match and saw her pale, distorted face, with its look of +torture. And what a pitiful, what an unnatural, what a distorted smile +she had at that moment! But I did not know then, that fifteen years +later I should still in my imagination see Liza, always with the +pitiful, distorted, inappropriate smile which was on her face at that +minute.</p> + +<p>Next day I was ready again to look upon it all as nonsense, due to +over-excited nerves, and, above all, as <i>exaggerated</i>. I was always +conscious of that weak point of mine, and sometimes very much afraid of +it. "I exaggerate everything, that is where I go wrong," I repeated to +myself every hour. But, however, "Liza will very likely come all the +same," was the refrain with which all my reflections ended. I was so +uneasy that I sometimes flew into a fury: "She'll come, she is certain +to come!" I cried, running about the room, "if not <ins title="missing +in the original">to</ins>-day, she will come to-morrow; she'll find me +out! The damnable romanticism of these pure hearts! Oh, the +vileness—oh, the silliness—oh, the stupidity of these +'wretched sentimental souls!' Why, how fail to understand? How could one +fail to understand?..."</p> + +<p>But at this point I stopped short, and in great confusion, +indeed.</p> + +<p>And how few, how few words, I thought, in passing, were needed; how +little of the idyllic (and affectedly, bookishly, artificially idyllic +too) had sufficed to turn a whole human life at once according to my +will. That's virginity, to be sure! Freshness of soil!</p> + +<p>At times a thought occurred to me, to go to her, "to tell her all," +and beg her not to come to me. But this thought stirred such wrath in me +that I believed I should have crushed that "damned" Liza if she had +chanced to be near me at the time. I should have insulted her, have spat +at her, have turned her out, have struck her!</p> + +<p>One day passed, however, another and another; she did not come and I +began to grow calmer. I felt particularly bold and cheerful after nine +o'clock, I even sometimes began dreaming, and rather sweetly: I, for +instance, became the salvation of Liza, simply through her coming to me +and my talking to her.... I develop her, educate her. Finally, I notice +that she loves me, loves me passionately. I pretend not to understand (I +don't know, however, why I pretend, just for effect, perhaps). At last +all confusion, transfigured, trembling and sobbing, she flings herself +at my feet and says that I am her saviour, and that she loves me better +than anything in the world. I am amazed, but.... "Liza," I say, "can you +imagine that I have not noticed your love, I saw it all, I divined it, +but I did not dare to approach you first, because I had an influence +over you and was afraid that you would force yourself, from gratitude, +to respond to my love, would try to rouse in your heart a feeling which +was perhaps absent, and I did not wish that ... because it would be +tyranny ... it would be indelicate (in short, I launch off at that point +into European, inexplicably lofty subtleties à la George Sand), but now, +now you are mine, you are my creation, you are pure, you are good, you +are my noble wife.</p> + +<p class="poem"> + <span class="i2a">'Into my house come bold and free,</span> + <span class="i2">Its rightful mistress there to be.'"</span> +</p> + +<p>Then we begin living together, go abroad and so on, and so on. In +fact, in the end it seemed vulgar to me myself, and I began putting out +my tongue at myself.</p> + +<p>Besides, they won't let her out, "the hussy!" I thought. They don't +let them go out very readily, especially in the evening (for some reason +I fancied she would come in the evening, and at seven o'clock +precisely). Though she did say she was not altogether a slave there yet, +and had certain rights; so, h'm! Damn it all, she will come, she is sure +to come!</p> + +<p>It was a good thing, in fact, that Apollon distracted my attention at +that time by his rudeness. He drove me beyond all patience! He was the +bane of my life, the curse laid upon me by Providence. We had been +squabbling continually for years, and I hated him. My God, how I hated +him! I believe I had never hated any one in my life as I hated him, +especially at some moments. He was an elderly, dignified man, who worked +part of his time as a tailor. But for some unknown reason he despised me +beyond all measure, and looked down upon me insufferably. Though, +indeed, he looked down upon every one. Simply to glance at that flaxen, +smoothly brushed head, at the tuft of hair he combed up on his forehead +and oiled with sunflower oil, at that dignified mouth, compressed into +the shape of the letter V, made one feel one was confronting a man who +never doubted of himself. He was a pedant, to the most extreme point, +the greatest pedant I had met on earth, and with that had a vanity only +befitting Alexander of Macedon. He was in love with every button on his +coat, every nail on his fingers—absolutely in love with them, and +he looked it! In his behaviour to me he was a perfect tyrant, he spoke +very little to me, and if he chanced to glance at me he gave me a firm, +majestically self-confident and invariably ironical look that drove me +sometimes to fury. He did his work with the air of doing me the greatest +favour. Though he did scarcely anything for me, and did not, indeed, +consider himself bound to do anything. There could be no doubt that he +looked upon me as the greatest fool on earth, and that "he did not get +rid of me" was simply that he could get wages from me every month. He +consented to do nothing for me for seven roubles a month. Many sins +should be forgiven me for what I suffered from him. My hatred reached +such a point that sometimes his very step almost threw me into +convulsions. What I loathed particularly was his lisp. His tongue must +have been a little too long or something of that sort, for he +continually lisped, and seemed to be very proud of it, imagining that it +greatly added to his dignity. He spoke in a slow, measured tone, with +his hands behind his back and his eyes fixed on the ground. He maddened +me particularly when he read aloud the psalms to himself behind his +partition. Many a battle I waged over that reading! But he was awfully +fond of reading aloud in the evenings, in a slow, even, sing-song voice, +as though over the dead. It is interesting that that is how he has +ended: he hires himself out to read the psalms over the dead, and at the +same time he kills rats and makes blacking. But at that time I could not +get rid of him, it was as though he were chemically combined with my +existence. Besides, nothing would have induced him to consent to leave +me. I could not live in furnished lodgings: my lodging was my private +solitude, my shell, my cave, in which I concealed myself from all +mankind, and Apollon seemed to me, for some reason, an integral part of +that flat, and for seven years I could not turn him away.</p> + +<p>To be two or three days behind with his wages, for instance, was +impossible. He would have made such a fuss, I should not have known +where to hide my head. But I was so exasperated with every one during +those days, that I made up my mind for some reason and with some object +to <i>punish</i> Apollon and not to pay him for a fortnight the wages +that were owing him. I had for a long time—for the last two +years—been intending to do this, simply in order to teach him not +to give himself airs with me, and to show him that if I liked I could +withhold his wages. I purposed to say nothing to him about it, and was +purposely silent indeed, in order to score off his pride and force him +to be the first to speak of his wages. Then I would take the seven +roubles out of a drawer, show him I have the money put aside on purpose, +but that I won't, I won't, I simply won't pay him his wages, I won't +just because that is "what I wish," because "I am master, and it is for +me to decide," because he has been disrespectful, because he has been +rude; but if he were to ask respectfully I might be softened and give it +to him, otherwise he might wait another fortnight, another three weeks, +a whole month....</p> + +<p>But angry as I was, yet he got the better of me. I could not hold out +for four days. He began as he always did begin in such cases, for there +had been such cases already, there had been attempts (and it may be +observed I knew all this beforehand, I knew his nasty tactics by heart). +He would begin by fixing upon me an exceedingly severe stare, keeping it +up for several minutes at a time, particularly on meeting me or seeing +me out of the house. If I held out and pretended not to notice these +stares, he would, still in silence, proceed to further tortures. All at +once, <i>à propos</i> of nothing, he would walk softly and smoothly into +my room, when I was pacing up and down or reading, stand at the door, +one hand behind his back and one foot behind the other, and fix upon me +a stare more than severe, utterly contemptuous. If I suddenly asked him +what he wanted, he would make me no answer, but continue staring at me +persistently for some seconds, then, with a peculiar compression of his +lips and a most significant air, deliberately turn round and +deliberately go back to his room. Two hours later he would come out +again and again present himself before me in the same way. It had +happened that in my fury I did not even ask him what he wanted, but +simply raised my head sharply and imperiously and began staring back at +him. So we stared at one another for two minutes; at last he turned with +deliberation and dignity and went back again for two hours.</p> + +<p>If I were still not brought to reason by all this, but persisted in +my revolt, he would suddenly begin sighing while he looked at me, long, +deep sighs as though measuring by them the depths of my moral +degradation, and, of course, it ended at last by his triumphing +completely: I raged and shouted, but still was forced to do what he +wanted.</p> + +<p>This time the usual staring manœuvres had scarcely begun when I +lost my temper and flew at him in a fury. I was irritated beyond +endurance apart from him.</p> + +<p>"Stay," I cried, in a frenzy, as he was slowly and silently turning, +with one hand behind his back, to go to his room, "stay! Come back, come +back, I tell you!" and I must have bawled so unnaturally, that he turned +round and even looked at me with some wonder. However, he persisted in +saying nothing, and that infuriated me.</p> + +<p>"How dare you come and look at me like that without being sent for? +Answer!"</p> + +<p>After looking at me calmly for half a minute, he began turning round +again.</p> + +<p>"Stay!" I roared, running up to him, "don't stir! There. Answer, now: +what did you come in to look at?"</p> + +<p>"If you have any order to give me it's my duty to carry it out," he +answered, after another silent pause, with a slow, measured lisp, +raising his eyebrows and calmly twisting his head from one side to +another, all this with exasperating composure.</p> + +<p>"That's not what I am asking you about, you torturer!" I shouted, +turning crimson with anger. "I'll tell you why you came here myself: you +see, I don't give you your wages, you are so proud you don't want to bow +down and ask for it, and so you come to punish me with your stupid +stares, to worry me and you have no sus...pic...ion how stupid it +is—stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid!"...</p> + +<p>He would have turned round again without a word, but I seized +him.</p> + +<p>"Listen," I shouted to him. "Here's the money, do you see, here it +is" (I took it out of the table drawer); "here's the seven roubles +complete, but you are not going to have it, you ... are ... not ... +going ... to ... have it until you come respectfully with bowed head to +beg my pardon. Do you hear?"</p> + +<p>"That cannot be," he answered, with the most unnatural +self-confidence.</p> + +<p>"It shall be so," I said, "I give you my word of honour, it shall +be!"</p> + +<p>"And there's nothing for me to beg your pardon for," he went on, as +though he had not noticed my exclamations at all. "Why, besides, you +called me a 'torturer,' for which I can summon you at the police-station +at any time for insulting behaviour."</p> + +<p>"Go, summon me," I roared, "go at once, this very minute, this very +second! You are a torturer all the same! a torturer!"</p> + +<p>But he merely looked at me, then turned, and regardless of my loud +calls to him, he walked to his room with an even step and without +looking round.</p> + +<p>"If it had not been for Liza nothing of this would have happened," I +decided inwardly. Then, after waiting a minute, I went myself behind his +screen with a dignified and solemn air, though my heart was beating +slowly and violently.</p> + +<p>"Apollon," I said quietly and emphatically, though I was breathless, +"go at once without a minute's delay and fetch the police-officer."</p> + +<p>He had meanwhile settled himself at his table, put on his spectacles +and taken up some sewing. But, hearing my order, he burst into a +guffaw.</p> + +<p>"At once, go this minute! Go on, or else you can't imagine what will +happen."</p> + +<p>"You are certainly out of your mind," he observed, without even +raising his head, lisping as deliberately as ever and threading his +needle. "Whoever heard of a man sending for the police against himself? +And as for being frightened—you are upsetting yourself about +nothing, for nothing will come of it."</p> + +<p>"Go!" I shrieked, clutching him by the shoulder. I felt I should +strike him in a minute.</p> + +<p>But I did not notice the door from the passage softly and slowly open +at that instant and a figure come in, stop short, and begin staring at +us in perplexity. I glanced, nearly swooned with shame, and rushed back +to my room. There, clutching at my hair with both hands, I leaned my +head against the wall and stood motionless in that position.</p> + +<p>Two minutes later I heard Apollon's deliberate footsteps. "There is +some woman asking for you," he said, looking at me with peculiar +severity. Then he stood aside and let in Liza. He would not go away, but +stared at us sarcastically.</p> + +<p>"Go away, go away," I commanded in desperation. At that moment my +clock began whirring and wheezing and struck seven.</p> + +<p class="p4 center">IX</p> + +<p class="poem smaller"> + <span class="i4a">"Into my house come bold and free,</span> + <span class="i4">Its rightful mistress there to be."</span> +</p> + +<p>I stood before her crushed, crestfallen, revoltingly confused, and I +believe I smiled as I did my utmost to wrap myself in the skirts of my +ragged wadded dressing-gown—exactly as I had imagined the scene +not long before in a fit of depression. After standing over us for a +couple of minutes Apollon went away, but that did not make me more at +ease. What made it worse was that she, too, was overwhelmed with +confusion, more so, in fact, than I should have expected. At the sight +of me, of course.</p> + +<p>"Sit down," I said mechanically, moving a chair up to the table, and +I sat down on the sofa. She obediently sat down at once and gazed at me +open-eyed, evidently expecting something from me at once. This naïveté +of expectation drove me to fury, but I restrained myself.</p> + +<p>She ought to have tried not to notice, as though everything had been +as usual, while instead of that, she ... and I dimly felt that I should +make her pay dearly for <i>all this</i>.</p> + +<p>"You have found me in a strange position, Liza," I began, stammering +and knowing that this was the wrong way to begin. "No, no, don't imagine +anything," I cried, seeing that she had suddenly flushed. "I am not +ashamed of my poverty.... On the contrary I look with pride on my +poverty. I am poor but honourable.... One can be poor and honourable," I +muttered. "However ... would you like tea?"...</p> + +<p>"No," she was beginning.</p> + +<p>"Wait a minute."</p> + +<p>I leapt up and ran to Apollon. I had to get out of the room +somehow.</p> + +<p>"Apollon," I whispered in feverish haste, flinging down before him +the seven roubles which had remained all the time in my clenched fist, +"here are your wages, you see I give them to you; but for that you must +come to my rescue: bring me tea and a dozen rusks from the restaurant. +If you won't go, you'll make me a miserable man! You don't know what +this woman is.... This is—everything! You may be imagining +something.... But you don't know what that woman is!"...</p> + +<p>Apollon, who had already sat down to his work and put on his +spectacles again, at first glanced askance at the money without speaking +or putting down his needle; then, without paying the slightest attention +to me or making any answer he went on busying himself with his needle, +which he had not yet threaded. I waited before him for three minutes +with my arms crossed <i>à la Napoléon</i>. My temples were moist with +sweat. I was pale, I felt it. But, thank God, he must have been moved to +pity, looking at me. Having threaded his needle he deliberately got up +from his seat, deliberately moved back his chair, deliberately took off +his spectacles, deliberately counted the money, and finally asking me +over his shoulder: "Shall I get a whole portion?" deliberately walked +out of the room. As I was going back to Liza, the thought occurred to me +on the way: shouldn't I run away just as I was in my dressing-gown, no +matter where, and then let happen what would.</p> + +<p>I sat down again. She looked at me uneasily. For some minutes we were +silent.</p> + +<p>"I will kill him," I shouted suddenly, striking the table with my +fist so that the ink spurted out of the inkstand.</p> + +<p>"What are you saying!" she cried, starting.</p> + +<p>"I will kill him! kill him!" I shrieked, suddenly striking the table +in absolute frenzy, and at the same time fully understanding how stupid +it was to be in such a frenzy. "You don't know, Liza, what that torturer +is to me. He is my torturer.... He has gone now to fetch some rusks; +he...."</p> + +<p>And suddenly I burst into tears. It was an hysterical attack. How +ashamed I felt in the midst of my sobs; but still I could not restrain +them.</p> + +<p>She was frightened.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter? What is wrong?" she cried, fussing about me.</p> + +<p>"Water, give me water, over there!" I muttered in a faint voice, +though I was inwardly conscious that I could have got on very well +without water and without muttering in a faint voice. But I was, what is +called, <i>putting it on</i>, to save appearances, though the attack was +a genuine one.</p> + +<p>She gave me water, looking at me in bewilderment. At that moment +Apollon brought in the tea. It suddenly seemed to me that this +commonplace, prosaic tea was horribly undignified and paltry after all +that had happened, and I blushed crimson. Liza looked at Apollon with +positive alarm. He went out without a glance at either of us.</p> + +<p>"Liza, do you despise me?" I asked, looking at her fixedly, trembling +with impatience to know what she was thinking.</p> + +<p>She was confused, and did not know what to answer.</p> + +<p>"Drink your tea," I said to her angrily. I was angry with myself, +but, of course, it was she who would have to pay for it. A horrible +spite against her suddenly surged up in my heart; I believe I could have +killed her. To revenge myself on her I swore inwardly not to say a word +to her all the time. "She is the cause of it all," I thought.</p> + +<p>Our silence lasted for five minutes. The tea stood on the table; we +did not touch it. I had got to the point of purposely refraining from +beginning in order to embarrass her further; it was awkward for her to +begin alone. Several times she glanced at me with mournful perplexity. I +was obstinately silent. I was, of course, myself the chief sufferer, +because I was fully conscious of the disgusting meanness of my spiteful +stupidity, and yet at the same time I could not restrain myself.</p> + +<p>"I want to ... get away ... from there altogether," she began, to +break the silence in some way, but, poor girl, that was just what she +ought not to have spoken about at such a stupid moment to a man so +stupid as I was. My heart positively ached with pity for her tactless +and unnecessary straightforwardness. But something hideous at once +stifled all compassion in me; it even provoked me to greater venom. I +did not care what happened. Another five minutes passed.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I am in your way," she began timidly, hardly audibly, and +was getting up.</p> + +<p>But as soon as I saw this first impulse of wounded dignity I +positively trembled with spite, and at once burst out.</p> + +<p>"Why have you come to me, tell me that, please?" I began, gasping for +breath and regardless of logical connection in my words. I longed to +have it all out at once, at one burst; I did not even trouble how to +begin. "Why have you come? Answer, answer," I cried, hardly knowing what +I was doing. "I'll tell you, my good girl, why you have come. You've +come because I talked sentimental stuff to you then. So now you are soft +as butter and longing for fine sentiments again. So you may as well know +that I was laughing at you then. And I am laughing at you now. Why are +you shuddering? Yes, I was laughing at you! I had been insulted just +before, at dinner, by the fellows who came that evening before me. I +came to you, meaning to thrash one of them, an officer; but I didn't +succeed, I didn't find him; I had to avenge the insult on some one to +get back my own again; you turned up, I vented my spleen on you and +laughed at you. I had been humiliated, so I wanted to humiliate; I had +been treated like a rag, so I wanted to show my power.... That's what it +was, and you imagined I had come there on purpose to save you. Yes? You +imagined that? You imagined that?"</p> + +<p>I knew that she would perhaps be muddled and not take it all in +exactly, but I knew, too, that she would grasp the gist of it, very well +indeed. And so, indeed, she did. She turned white as a handkerchief, +tried to say something, and her lips worked painfully; but she sank on a +chair as though she had been felled by an axe. And all the time +afterwards she listened to me with her lips parted and her eyes wide +open, shuddering with awful terror. The cynicism, the cynicism of my +words overwhelmed her....</p> + +<p>"Save you!" I went on, jumping up from my chair and running up and +down the room before her. "Save you from what? But perhaps I am worse +than you myself. Why didn't you throw it in my teeth when I was giving +you that sermon: 'But what did you come here yourself for? was it to +read us a sermon?' Power, power was what I wanted then, sport was what I +wanted, I wanted to wring out your tears, your humiliation, your +hysteria—that was what I wanted then! Of course, I couldn't keep +it up then, because I am a wretched creature, I was frightened, and, the +devil knows why, gave you my address in my folly. Afterwards, before I +got home, I was cursing and swearing at you because of that address, I +hated you already because of the lies I had told you. Because I only +like playing with words, only dreaming, but, do you know, what I really +want is that you should all go to hell. That is what I want. I want +peace; yes, I'd sell the whole world for a farthing, straight off, so +long as I was left in peace. Is the world to go to pot, or am I to go +without my tea? I say that the world may go to pot for me so long as I +always get my tea. Did you know that, or not? Well, anyway, I know that +I am a blackguard, a scoundrel, an egoist, a sluggard. Here I have been +shuddering for the last three days at the thought of your coming. And do +you know what has worried me particularly for these three days? That I +posed as such a hero to you, and now you would see me in a wretched torn +dressing-gown, beggarly, loathsome. I told you just now that I was not +ashamed of my poverty; so you may as well know that I am ashamed of it; +I am more ashamed of it than of anything, more afraid of it than of +being found out if I were a thief, because I am as vain as though I had +been skinned and the very air blowing on me hurt. Surely by now you must +realize that I shall never forgive you for having found me in this +wretched dressing-gown, just as I was flying at Apollon like a spiteful +cur. The saviour, the former hero, was flying like a mangy, unkempt +sheep-dog at his lackey, and the lackey was jeering at him! And I shall +never forgive you for the tears I could not help shedding before you +just now, like some silly woman put to shame! And for what I am +confessing to you now, I shall never forgive <i>you</i> either! +Yes—you must answer for it all because you turned up like this, +because I am a blackguard, because I am the nastiest, stupidest, +absurdest and most envious of all the worms on earth, who are not a bit +better than I am, but, the devil knows why, are never put to confusion; +while I shall always be insulted by every louse, that is my doom! And +what is it to me that you don't understand a word of this! And what do I +care, what do I care about you, and whether you go to ruin there or not? +Do you understand? How I shall hate you now after saying this, for +having been here and listening. Why, it's not once in a lifetime a man +speaks out like this, and then it is in hysterics!... What more do you +want? Why do you still stand confronting me, after all this? Why are you +worrying me? Why don't you go?"</p> + +<p>But at this point a strange thing happened. I was so accustomed to +think and imagine everything from books, and to picture everything in +the world to myself just as I had made it up in my dreams beforehand, +that I could not all at once take in this strange circumstance. What +happened was this: Liza, insulted and crushed by me, understood a great +deal more than I imagined. She understood from all this what a woman +understands first of all, if she feels genuine love, that is, that I was +myself unhappy.</p> + +<p>The frightened and wounded expression on her face was followed first +by a look of sorrowful perplexity. When I began calling myself a +scoundrel and a blackguard and my tears flowed (the tirade was +accompanied throughout by tears) her whole face worked convulsively. She +was on the point of getting up and stopping me; when I finished she took +no notice of my shouting: "Why are you here, why don't you go away?" but +realized only that it must have been very bitter to me to say all this. +Besides, she was so crushed, poor girl; she considered herself +infinitely beneath me; how could she feel anger or resentment? She +suddenly leapt up from her chair with an irresistible impulse and held +out her hands, yearning towards me, though still timid and not daring to +stir.... At this point there was a revulsion in my heart, too. Then she +suddenly rushed to me, threw her arms round me and burst into tears. I, +too, could not restrain myself, and sobbed as I never had before.</p> + +<p>"They won't let me.... I can't be good!" I managed to articulate; +then I went to the sofa, fell on it face downwards, and sobbed on it for +a quarter of an hour in genuine hysterics. She came close to me, put her +arms round me and stayed motionless in that position. But the trouble +was that the hysterics could not go on for ever, and (I am writing the +loathsome truth) lying face downwards on the sofa with my face thrust +into my nasty leather pillow, I began by degrees to be aware of a +far-away, involuntary but irresistible feeling that it would be awkward +now for me to raise my head and look Liza straight in the face. Why was +I ashamed? I don't know, but I was ashamed. The thought, too, came into +my overwrought brain that our parts now were completely changed, that +she was now the heroine, while I was just such a crushed and humiliated +creature as she had been before me that night—four days before.... +And all this came into my mind during the minutes I was lying on my face +on the sofa.</p> + +<p>My God! surely I was not envious of her then.</p> + +<p>I don't know, to this day I cannot decide, and at the time, of +course, I was still less able to understand what I was feeling than now. +I cannot get on without domineering and tyrannizing over some one, but +... there is no explaining anything by reasoning and so it is useless to +reason.</p> + +<p>I conquered myself, however, and raised my head; I had to do so +sooner or later ... and I am convinced to this day that it was just +because I was ashamed to look at her that another feeling was suddenly +kindled and flamed up in my heart ... a feeling of mastery and +possession. My eyes gleamed with passion, and I gripped her hands +tightly. How I hated her and how I was drawn to her at that minute! The +one feeling intensified the other. It was almost like an act of +vengeance. At first there was a look of amazement, even of terror on her +face, but only for one instant. She warmly and rapturously embraced +me.</p> + +<p class="p4 center">X</p> + +<p class="p2">A quarter of an hour later I was rushing up and down the +room in frenzied impatience, from minute to minute I went up to the +screen and peeped through the crack at Liza. She was sitting on the +ground with her head leaning against the bed, and must have been crying. +But she did not go away, and that irritated me. This time she understood +it all. I had insulted her finally, but ... there's no need to describe +it. She realized that my outburst of passion had been simply revenge, a +fresh humiliation, and that to my earlier, almost causeless hatred was +added now a <i>personal hatred</i>, born of envy.... Though I do not +maintain positively that she understood all this distinctly; but she +certainly did fully understand that I was a despicable man, and what was +worse, incapable of loving her.</p> + +<p>I know I shall be told that this is incredible—but it is +incredible to be as spiteful and stupid as I was; it may be added that +it was strange I should not love her, or at any rate, appreciate her +love. Why is it strange? In the first place, by then I was incapable of +love, for I repeat, with me loving meant tyrannizing and showing my +moral superiority. I have never in my life been able to imagine any +other sort of love, and have nowadays come to the point of sometimes +thinking that love really consists in the right—freely given by +the beloved object—to tyrannize over her.</p> + +<p>Even in my underground dreams I did not imagine love except as a +struggle. I began it always with hatred and ended it with moral +subjugation, and afterwards I never knew what to do with the subjugated +object. And what is there to wonder at in that, since I had succeeded in +so corrupting myself, since I was so out of touch with "real life," as +to have actually thought of reproaching her, and putting her to shame +for having come to me to hear "fine sentiments"; and did not even guess +that she had come not to hear fine sentiments, but to love me, because +to a woman all reformation, all salvation from any sort of ruin, and all +moral renewal is included in love and can only show itself in that +form.</p> + +<p>I did not hate her so much, however, when I was running about the +room and peeping through the crack in the screen. I was only +insufferably oppressed by her being here. I wanted her to disappear. I +wanted "peace," to be left alone in my underground world. Real life +oppressed me with its novelty so much that I could hardly breathe.</p> + +<p>But several minutes passed and she still remained, without stirring, +as though she were unconscious. I had the shamelessness to tap softly at +the screen as though to remind her.... She started, sprang up, and flew +to seek her kerchief, her hat, her coat, as though making her escape +from me.... Two minutes later she came from behind the screen and looked +with heavy eyes at me. I gave a spiteful grin, which was forced, +however, to <i>keep up appearances</i>, and I turned away from her +eyes.</p> + +<p>"Good-bye," she said, going towards the door.</p> + +<p>I ran up to her, seized her hand, opened it, thrust something in it +and closed it again. Then I turned at once and dashed away in haste to +the other corner of the room to avoid seeing, anyway....</p> + +<p>I did mean a moment since to tell a lie—to write that I did +this accidentally, not knowing what I was doing through foolishness, +through losing my head. But I don't want to lie, and so I will say +straight out that I opened her hand and put the money in it ... from +spite. It came into my head to do this while I was running up and down +the room and she was sitting behind the screen. But this I can say for +certain: though I did that cruel thing purposely, it was not an impulse +from the heart, but came from my evil brain. This cruelty was so +affected, so purposely made up, so completely a product of the brain, of +books, that I could not even keep it up a minute—first I dashed +away to avoid seeing her, and then in shame and despair rushed after +Liza. I opened the door in the passage and began listening.</p> + +<p>"Liza! Liza!" I cried on the stairs, but in a low voice, not +boldly.</p> + +<p>There was no answer, but I fancied I heard her footsteps, lower down +on the stairs.</p> + +<p>"Liza!" I cried, more loudly.</p> + +<p>No answer. But at that minute I heard the stiff outer glass door open +heavily with a creak and slam violently, the sound echoed up the +stairs.</p> + +<p>She had gone. I went back to my room in hesitation. I felt horribly +oppressed.</p> + +<p>I stood still at the table, beside the chair on which she had sat and +looked aimlessly before me. A minute passed, suddenly I started; +straight before me on the table I saw.... In short, I saw a crumpled +blue five-rouble note, the one I had thrust into her hand a minute +before. It was the same note; it could be no other, there was no other +in the flat. So she had managed to fling it from her hand on the table +at the moment when I had dashed into the further corner.</p> + +<p>Well! I might have expected that she would do that. Might I have +expected it? No, I was such an egoist, I was so lacking in respect for +my fellow-creatures that I could not even imagine she would do so. I +could not endure it. A minute later I flew like a madman to dress, +flinging on what I could at random and ran headlong after her. She could +not have got two hundred paces away when I ran out into the street.</p> + +<p>It was a still night and the snow was coming down in masses and +falling almost perpendicularly, covering the pavement and the empty +street as though with a pillow. There was no one in the street, no sound +was to be heard. The street lamps gave a disconsolate and useless +glimmer. I ran two hundred paces to the cross-roads and stopped +short.</p> + +<p>Where had she gone? And why was I running after her?</p> + +<p>Why? To fall down before her, to sob with remorse, to kiss her feet, +to entreat her forgiveness! I longed for that, my whole breast was being +rent to pieces, and never, never shall I recall that minute with +indifference. But—what for? I thought. Should I not begin to hate +her, perhaps, even to-morrow, just because I had kissed her feet to-day? +Should I give her happiness? Had I not recognized that day, for the +hundredth time, what I was worth? Should I not torture her?</p> + +<p>I stood in the snow, gazing into the troubled darkness and pondered +this.</p> + +<p>"And will it not be better?" I mused fantastically, afterwards at +home, stifling the living pang of my heart with fantastic dreams. "Will +it not be better that she should keep the resentment of the insult for +ever? Resentment—why, it is purification; it is a most stinging +and painful consciousness! To-morrow I should have defiled her soul and +have exhausted her heart, while now the feeling of insult will never die +in her heart, and however loathsome the filth awaiting her—the +feeling of insult will elevate and purify her ... by hatred ... h'm! ... +perhaps, too, by forgiveness.... Will all that make things easier for +her though?..."</p> + +<p>And, indeed, I will ask on my own account here, an idle question: +which is better—cheap happiness or exalted sufferings? Well, which +is better?</p> + +<p>So I dreamed as I sat at home that evening, almost dead with the pain +in my soul. Never had I endured such suffering and remorse, yet could +there have been the faintest doubt when I ran out from my lodging that I +should turn back half-way? I never met Liza again and I have heard +nothing of her. I will add, too, that I remained for a long time +afterwards pleased with the phrase about the benefit from resentment and +hatred in spite of the fact that I almost fell ill from misery.</p> + +<p class="center">* * * * *</p> + +<p>Even now, so many years later, all this is somehow a very evil +memory. I have many evil memories now, but ... hadn't I better end my +"Notes" here? I believe I made a mistake in beginning to write them, +anyway I have felt ashamed all the time I've been writing this story; so +it's hardly literature so much as a corrective punishment. Why, to tell +long stories, showing how I have spoiled my life through morally rotting +in my corner, through lack of fitting environment, through divorce from +real life, and rankling spite in my underground world, would certainly +not be interesting; a novel needs a hero, and all the traits for an +anti-hero are <i>expressly</i> gathered together here, and what matters +most, it all produces an unpleasant impression, for we are all divorced +from life, we are all cripples, every one of us, more or less. We are so +divorced from it that we feel at once a sort of loathing for real life, +and so cannot bear to be reminded of it. Why, we have come almost to +looking upon real life as an effort, almost as hard work, and we are all +privately agreed that it is better in books. And why do we fuss and fume +sometimes? Why are we perverse and ask for something else? We don't know +what ourselves. It would be the worse for us if our petulant prayers +were answered. Come, try, give any one of us, for instance, a little +more independence, untie our hands, widen the spheres of our activity, +relax the control and we ... yes, I assure you ... we should be begging +to be under control again at once. I know that you will very likely be +angry with me for that, and will begin shouting and stamping. Speak for +yourself, you will say, and for your miseries in your underground holes, +and don't dare to say all of us—excuse me, gentlemen, I am not +justifying myself with that "all of us." As for what concerns me in +particular I have only in my life carried to an extreme what you have +not dared to carry half-way, and what's more, you have taken your +cowardice for good sense, and have found comfort in deceiving +yourselves. So that perhaps, after all, there is more life in me than in +you. Look into it more carefully! Why, we don't even know what living +means now, what it is, and what it is called? Leave us alone without +books and we shall be lost and in confusion at once. We shall not know +what to join on to, what to cling to, what to love and what to hate, +what to respect and what to despise. We are oppressed at being +men—men with a real individual body and blood, we are ashamed of +it, we think it a disgrace and try to contrive to be some sort of +impossible generalized man. We are stillborn, and for generations past +have been begotten, not by living fathers, and that suits us better and +better. We are developing a taste for it. Soon we shall contrive to be +born somehow from an idea. But enough; I don't want to write more from +"Underground."</p> + +<p>[<i>The notes of this paradoxalist do not end here, however. He could +not refrain from going on with them, but it seems to us that we may stop +here.</i>]</p> + +<p class="p4 center"><a name="Pg156">A FAINT HEART</a></p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">a story</span></p> + +<p class="p2">Under the same roof in the same flat on the same fourth +storey lived two young men, colleagues in the service, Arkady Ivanovitch +Nefedevitch and Vasya Shumkov.... The author of course, feels the +necessity of explaining to the reader why one is given his full title, +while the other's name is abbreviated, if only that such a mode of +expression may not be regarded as unseemly and rather familiar. But, to +do so, it would first be necessary to explain and describe the rank and +years and calling and duty in the service, and even, indeed, the +characters of the persons concerned; and since there are so many writers +who begin in that way, the author of the proposed story, solely in order +to be unlike them (that is, some people will perhaps say, entirely on +account of his boundless vanity), decides to begin straightaway with +action. Having completed this introduction, he begins.</p> + +<p>Towards six o'clock on New Year's Eve Shumkov returned home. Arkady +Ivanovitch, who was lying on the bed, woke up and looked at his friend +with half-closed eyes. He saw that Vasya had on his very best trousers +and a very clean shirt front. That, of course, struck him. "Where had +Vasya to go like that? And he had not dined at home either!" Meanwhile, +Shumkov had lighted a candle, and Arkady Ivanovitch guessed immediately +that his friend was intending to wake him accidentally. Vasya did, in +fact, clear his throat twice, walked twice up and down the room, and at +last, quite accidentally, let the pipe, which he had begun filling in +the corner by the stove, slip out of his hands. Arkady Ivanovitch +laughed to himself.</p> + +<p>"Vasya, give over pretending!" he said.</p> + +<p>"Arkasha, you are not asleep?"</p> + +<p>"I really cannot say for certain; it seems to me I am not."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Arkasha! How are you, dear boy? Well, brother! Well, brother!... +You don't know what I have to tell you!"</p> + +<p>"I certainly don't know; come here."</p> + +<p>As though expecting this, Vasya went up to him at once, not at all +anticipating, however, treachery from Arkady Ivanovitch. The other +seized him very adroitly by the arms, turned him over, held him down, +and began, as it is called, "strangling" his victim, and apparently this +proceeding afforded the lighthearted Arkady Ivanovitch great +satisfaction.</p> + +<p>"Caught!" he cried. "Caught!"</p> + +<p>"Arkasha, Arkasha, what are you about? Let me go. For goodness sake, +let me go, I shall crumple my dress coat!"</p> + +<p>"As though that mattered! What do you want with a dress coat? Why +were you so confiding as to put yourself in my hands? Tell me, where +have you been? Where have you dined?"</p> + +<p>"Arkasha, for goodness sake, let me go!"</p> + +<p>"Where have you dined?"</p> + +<p>"Why, it's about that I want to tell you."</p> + +<p>"Tell away, then."</p> + +<p>"But first let me go."</p> + +<p>"Not a bit of it, I won't let you go till you tell me!"</p> + +<p>"Arkasha! Arkasha! But do you understand, I can't—it is utterly +impossible!" cried Vasya, helplessly wriggling out of his friend's +powerful clutches, "you know there are subjects!"</p> + +<p>"How—subjects?"...</p> + +<p>"Why, subjects that you can't talk about in such a position without +losing your dignity; it's utterly impossible; it would make it +ridiculous, and this is not a ridiculous matter, it is important."</p> + +<p>"Here, he's going in for being important! That's a new idea! You tell +me so as to make me laugh, that's how you must tell me; I don't want +anything important; or else you are no true friend of mine. Do you call +yourself a friend? Eh?"</p> + +<p>"Arkasha, I really can't!"</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't want to hear...."</p> + +<p>"Well, Arkasha!" began Vasya, lying across the bed and doing his +utmost to put all the dignity possible into his words. "Arkasha! If you +like, I will tell you; only...."</p> + +<p>"Well, what?..."</p> + +<p>"Well, I am engaged to be married!"</p> + +<p>Without uttering another word Arkady Ivanovitch took Vasya up in his +arms like a baby, though the latter was by no means short, but rather +long and thin, and began dexterously carrying him up and down the room, +pretending that he was hushing him to sleep.</p> + +<p>"I'll put you in your swaddling clothes, Master Bridegroom," he kept +saying. But seeing that Vasya lay in his arms, not stirring or uttering +a word, he thought better of it at once, and reflecting that the joke +had gone too far, set him down in the middle of the room and kissed him +on the cheek in the most genuine and friendly way.</p> + +<p>"Vasya, you are not angry?"</p> + +<p>"Arkasha, listen...."</p> + +<p>"Come, it's New Year's Eve."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'm all right; but why are you such a madman, such a +scatterbrain? How many times I have told you: Arkasha, it's really not +funny, not funny at all!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, you are not angry?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'm all right; am I ever angry with any one! But you have +wounded me, do you understand?"</p> + +<p>"But how have I wounded you? In what way?"</p> + +<p>"I come to you as to a friend, with a full heart, to pour out my soul +to you, to tell you of my happiness...."</p> + +<p>"What happiness? Why don't you speak?..."</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, I am going to get married!" Vasya answered with vexation, +for he really was a little exasperated.</p> + +<p>"You! You are going to get married! So you really mean it?" Arkasha +cried at the top of his voice. "No, no ... but what's this? He talks +like this and his tears are flowing.... Vasya, my little Vasya, don't, +my little son! Is it true, really?" And Arkady Ivanovitch flew to hug +him again.</p> + +<p>"Well, do you see, how it is now?" said Vasya. "You are kind, of +course, you are a friend, I know that. I come to you with such joy, such +rapture, and all of a sudden I have to disclose all the joy of my heart, +all my rapture struggling across the bed, in an undignified way.... You +understand, Arkasha," Vasya went on, half laughing. "You see, it made it +seem comic: and in a sense I did not belong to myself at that minute. I +could not let this be slighted.... What's more, if you had asked me her +name, I swear, I would sooner you killed me than have answered you."</p> + +<p>"But, Vasya, why did you not speak! You should have told me all about +it sooner and I would not have played the fool!" cried Arkady Ivanovitch +in genuine despair.</p> + +<p>"Come, that's enough, that's enough! Of course, that's how it is.... +You know what it all comes from—from my having a good heart. What +vexes me is, that I could not tell you as I wanted to, making you glad +and happy, telling you nicely and initiating you into my secret +properly.... Really, Arkasha, I love you so much that I believe if it +were not for you I shouldn't be getting married, and, in fact, I +shouldn't be living in this world at all!"</p> + +<p>Arkady Ivanovitch, who was excessively sentimental, cried and laughed +at once as he listened to Vasya. Vasya did the same. Both flew to +embrace one another again and forgot the past.</p> + +<p>"How is it—how is it? Tell me all about it, Vasya! I am +astonished, excuse me, brother, but I am utterly astonished; it's a +perfect thunderbolt, by Jove! Nonsense, nonsense, brother, you have made +it up, you've really made it up, you are telling fibs!" cried Arkady +Ivanovitch, and he actually looked into Vasya's face with genuine +uncertainty, but seeing in it the radiant confirmation of a positive +intention of being married as soon as possible, threw himself on the bed +and began rolling from side to side in ecstasy till the walls shook.</p> + +<p>"Vasya, sit here," he said at last, sitting down on the bed.</p> + +<p>"I really don't know, brother, where to begin!"</p> + +<p>They looked at one another in joyful excitement.</p> + +<p>"Who is she, Vasya?"</p> + +<p>"The Artemyevs!..." Vasya pronounced, in a voice weak with +emotion.</p> + +<p>"No?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I did buzz into your ears about them at first, and then I shut +up, and you noticed nothing. Ah, Arkasha, if you knew how hard it was to +keep it from you; but I was afraid, afraid to speak! I thought it would +all go wrong, and you know I was in love, Arkasha! My God! my God! You +see this was the trouble," he began, pausing continually from agitation, +"she had a suitor a year ago, but he was suddenly ordered somewhere; I +knew him—he was a fellow, bless him! Well, he did not write at +all, he simply vanished. They waited and waited, wondering what it +meant.... Four months ago he suddenly came back married, and has never +set foot within their doors! It was coarse—shabby! And they had no +one to stand up for them. She cried and cried, poor girl, and I fell in +love with her ... indeed, I had been in love with her long before, all +the time! I began comforting her, and was always going there.... Well, +and I really don't know how it has all come about, only she came to love +me; a week ago I could not restrain myself, I cried, I sobbed, and told +her everything—well, that I love her—everything, in fact!... +'I am ready to love you, too, Vassily Petrovitch, only I am a poor girl, +don't make a mock of me; I don't dare to love any one.' Well, brother, +you understand! You understand?... On that we got engaged on the spot. I +kept thinking and thinking and thinking and thinking, I said to her, +'How are we to tell your mother?' She said, 'It will be hard, wait a +little; she's afraid, and now maybe she would not let you have me; she +keeps crying, too.' Without telling her I blurted it out to her mother +to-day. Lizanka fell on her knees before her, I did the same ... well, +she gave us her blessing. Arkasha, Arkasha! My dear fellow! We will live +together. No, I won't part from you for anything."</p> + +<p>"Vasya, look at you as I may, I can't believe it. I don't believe it, +I swear. I keep feeling as though.... Listen, how can you be engaged to +be married?... How is it I didn't know, eh? Do you know, Vasya, I will +confess it to you now. I was thinking of getting married myself; but now +since you are going to be married, it is just as good! Be happy, be +happy!..."</p> + +<p>"Brother, I feel so lighthearted now, there is such sweetness in my +soul ..." said Vasya, getting up and pacing about the room excitedly. +"Don't you feel the same? We shall be poor, of course, but we shall be +happy; and you know it is not a wild fancy; our happiness is not a fairy +tale; we shall be happy in reality!..."</p> + +<p>"Vasya, Vasya, listen!"</p> + +<p>"What?" said Vasya, standing before Arkady Ivanovitch.</p> + +<p>"The idea occurs to me; I am really afraid to say it to you.... +Forgive me, and settle my doubts. What are you going to live on? You +know I am delighted that you are going to be married, of course, I am +delighted, and I don't know what to do with myself, but—what are +you going to live on? Eh?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, good Heavens! What a fellow you are, Arkasha!" said Vasya, +looking at Nefedevitch in profound astonishment. "What do you mean? Even +her old mother, even she did not think of that for two minutes when I +put it all clearly before her. You had better ask what they are living +on! They have five hundred roubles a year between the three of them: the +pension, which is all they have, since the father died. She and her old +mother and her little brother, whose schooling is paid for out of that +income too—that is how they live! It's you and I are the +capitalists! Some good years it works out to as much as seven hundred +for me."</p> + +<p>"I say, Vasya, excuse me; I really ... you know I ... I am only +thinking how to prevent things going wrong. How do you mean, seven +hundred? It's only three hundred...."</p> + +<p>"Three hundred!... And Yulian Mastakovitch? Have you forgotten +him?"</p> + +<p>"Yulian Mastakovitch? But you know that's uncertain, brother; that's +not the same thing as three hundred roubles of secure salary, where +every rouble is a friend you can trust. Yulian Mastakovitch, of course, +he's a great man, in fact, I respect him, I understand him, though he is +so far above us; and, by Jove, I love him, because he likes you and +gives you something for your work, though he might not pay you, but +simply order a clerk to work for him—but you will agree, Vasya.... +Let me tell you, too, I am not talking nonsense. I admit in all +Petersburg you won't find a handwriting like your handwriting, I am +ready to allow that to you," Nefedevitch concluded, not without +enthusiasm. "But, God forbid! you may displease him all at once, you may +not satisfy him, your work with him may stop, he may take another +clerk—all sorts of things may happen, in fact! You know, Yulian +Mastakovitch may be here to-day and gone to-morrow...."</p> + +<p>"Well, Arkasha, the ceiling might fall on our heads this minute."</p> + +<p>"Oh, of course, of course, I mean nothing."</p> + +<p>"But listen, hear what I have got to say—you know, I don't see +how he can part with me.... No, hear what I have to say! hear what I +have to say! You see, I perform all my duties punctually; you know how +kind he is, you know, Arkasha, he gave me fifty roubles in silver +to-day!"</p> + +<p>"Did he really, Vasya? A bonus for you?"</p> + +<p>"Bonus, indeed, it was out of his own pocket. He said: 'Why, you have +had no money for five months, brother, take some if you want it; thank +you, I am satisfied with you.'... Yes, really! 'Yes, you don't work for +me for nothing,' said he. He did, indeed, that's what he said. It +brought tears into my eyes, Arkasha. Good Heavens, yes!"</p> + +<p>"I say, Vasya, have you finished copying those papers?..."</p> + +<p>"No.... I haven't finished them yet."</p> + +<p>"Vas...ya! My angel! What have you been doing?"</p> + +<p>"Listen, Arkasha, it doesn't matter, they are not wanted for another +two days, I have time enough...."</p> + +<p>"How is it you have not done them?"</p> + +<p>"That's all right, that's all right. You look so horror-stricken that +you turn me inside out and make my heart ache! You are always going on +at me like this! He's for ever crying out: Oh, oh, oh!!! Only consider, +what does it matter? Why, I shall finish it, of course I shall finish +it...."</p> + +<p>"What if you don't finish it?" cried Arkady, jumping up, "and he has +made you a present to-day! And you going to be married.... Tut, tut, +tut!..."</p> + +<p>"It's all right, it's all right," cried Shumkov, "I shall sit down +directly, I shall sit down this minute."</p> + +<p>"How did you come to leave it, Vasya?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Arkasha! How could I sit down to work! Have I been in a fit +state? Why, even at the office I could scarcely sit still, I could +scarcely bear the beating of my heart.... Oh! oh! Now I shall work all +night, and I shall work all to-morrow night, and the night after, +too—and I shall finish it."</p> + +<p>"Is there a great deal left?"</p> + +<p>"Don't hinder me, for goodness' sake, don't hinder me; hold your +tongue."</p> + +<p>Arkady Ivanovitch went on tip-toe to the bed and sat down, then +suddenly wanted to get up, but was obliged to sit down again, +remembering that he might interrupt him, though he could not sit still +for excitement: it was evident that the news had thoroughly upset him, +and the first thrill of delight had not yet passed off. He glanced at +Shumkov; the latter glanced at him, smiled, and shook his finger at him, +then, frowning severely (as though all his energy and the success of his +work depended upon it), fixed his eyes on the papers.</p> + +<p>It seemed that he, too, could not yet master his emotion; he kept +changing his pen, fidgeting in his chair, re-arranging things, and +setting to work again, but his hand trembled and refused to move.</p> + +<p>"Arkasha, I've talked to them about you," he cried suddenly, as +though he had just remembered it.</p> + +<p>"Yes," cried Arkasha, "I was just wanting to ask you that. Well?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll tell you everything afterwards. Of course, it is my own +fault, but it quite went out of my head that I didn't mean to say +anything till I had written four pages, but I thought of you and of +them. I really can't write, brother, I keep thinking about you...."</p> + +<p>Vasya smiled.</p> + +<p>A silence followed.</p> + +<p>"Phew! What a horrid pen," cried Shumkov, flinging it on the table in +vexation. He took another.</p> + +<p>"Vasya! listen! one word...."</p> + +<p>"Well, make haste, and for the last time."</p> + +<p>"Have you a great deal left to do?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, brother!" Vasya frowned, as though there could be nothing more +terrible and murderous in the whole world than such a question. "A lot, +a fearful lot."</p> + +<p>"Do you know, I have an idea——"</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, never mind, never mind; go on writing."</p> + +<p>"Why, what? what?"</p> + +<p>"It's past six, Vasya."</p> + +<p>Here Nefedevitch smiled and winked slyly at Vasya, though with a +certain timidity, not knowing how Vasya would take it.</p> + +<p>"Well, what is it?" said Vasya, throwing down his pen, looking him +straight in the face and actually turning pale with excitement.</p> + +<p>"Do you know what?"</p> + +<p>"For goodness sake, what is it?"</p> + +<p>"I tell you what, you are excited, you won't get much done.... Stop, +stop, stop! I have it, I have it—listen," said Nefedevitch, +jumping up from the bed in delight, preventing Vasya from speaking and +doing his utmost to ward off all objections; "first of all you must get +calm, you must pull yourself together, mustn't you?"</p> + +<p>"Arkasha, Arkasha!" cried Vasya, jumping up from his chair, "I will +work all night, I will, really."</p> + +<p>"Of course, of course, you won't go to bed till morning."</p> + +<p>"I won't go to bed, I won't go to bed at all."</p> + +<p>"No, that won't do, that won't do: you must sleep, go to bed at five. +I will call you at eight. To-morrow is a holiday; you can sit and +scribble away all day long.... Then the night and—but have you a +great deal left to do?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, look, look!"</p> + +<p>Vasya, quivering with excitement and suspense, showed the manuscript: +"Look!"</p> + +<p>"I say, brother, that's not much."</p> + +<p>"My dear fellow, there's some more of it," said Vasya, looking very +timidly at Nefedevitch, as though the decision whether he was to go or +not depended upon the latter.</p> + +<p>"How much?"</p> + +<p>"Two signatures."</p> + +<p>"Well, what's that? Come, I tell you what. We shall have time to +finish it, by Jove, we shall!"</p> + +<p>"Arkasha!"</p> + +<p>"Vasya, listen! To-night, on New Year's Eve, every one is at home +with his family. You and I are the only ones without a home or +relations.... Oh, Vasya!"</p> + +<p>Nefedevitch clutched Vasya and hugged him in his leonine arms.</p> + +<p>"Arkasha, it's settled."</p> + +<p>"Vasya, boy, I only wanted to say this. You see, Vasya—listen, +bandy-legs, listen!..."</p> + +<p>Arkady stopped, with his mouth open, because he could not speak for +delight. Vasya held him by the shoulders, gazed into his face and moved +his lips, as though he wanted to speak for him.</p> + +<p>"Well," he brought out at last.</p> + +<p>"Introduce me to them to-day."</p> + +<p>"Arkady, let us go to tea there. I tell you what, I tell you what. We +won't even stay to see in the New Year, we'll come away earlier," cried +Vasya, with genuine inspiration.</p> + +<p>"That is, we'll go for two hours, neither more nor less...."</p> + +<p>"And then separation till I have finished...."</p> + +<p>"Vasya, boy!"</p> + +<p>"Arkady!"</p> + +<p>Three minutes later Arkady was dressed in his best. Vasya did nothing +but brush himself, because he had been in such haste to work that he had +not changed his trousers.</p> + +<p>They hurried out into the street, each more pleased than the other. +Their way lay from the Petersburg Side to Kolomna. Arkady Ivanovitch +stepped out boldly and vigorously, so that from his walk alone one could +see how glad he was at the good fortune of his friend, who was more and +more radiant with happiness. Vasya trotted along with shorter steps, +though his deportment was none the less dignified. Arkady Ivanovitch, in +fact, had never seen him before to such advantage. At that moment he +actually felt more respect for him, and Vasya's physical defect, of +which the reader is not yet aware (Vasya was slightly deformed), which +always called forth a feeling of loving sympathy in Arkady Ivanovitch's +kind heart, contributed to the deep tenderness the latter felt for him +at this moment, a tenderness of which Vasya was in every way worthy. +Arkady Ivanovitch felt ready to weep with happiness, but he restrained +himself.</p> + +<p>"Where are you going, where are you going, Vasya? It is nearer this +way," he cried, seeing that Vasya was making in the direction of +Voznesenky.</p> + +<p>"Hold your tongue, Arkasha."</p> + +<p>"It really is nearer, Vasya."</p> + +<p>"Do you know what, Arkasha?" Vasya began mysteriously, in a voice +quivering with joy, "I tell you what, I want to take Lizanka a little +present."</p> + +<p>"What sort of present?"</p> + +<p>"At the corner here, brother, is Madame Leroux's, a wonderful +shop."</p> + +<p>"Well."</p> + +<p>"A cap, my dear, a cap; I saw such a charming little cap to-day. I +inquired, I was told it was the <i>façon Manon Lescaut</i>—a +delightful thing. Cherry-coloured ribbons, and if it is not dear ... +Arkasha, even if it is dear...."</p> + +<p>"I think you are superior to any of the poets, Vasya. Come +along."</p> + +<p>They ran along, and two minutes later went into the shop. They were +met by a black-eyed Frenchwoman with curls, who, from the first glance +at her customers, became as joyous and happy as they, even happier, if +one may say so. Vasya was ready to kiss Madame Leroux in his +delight....</p> + +<p>"Arkasha," he said in an undertone, casting a casual glance at all +the grand and beautiful things on little wooden stands on the huge +table, "lovely things! What's that? What's this? This one, for instance, +this little sweet, do you see?" Vasya whispered, pointing to a charming +cap further away, which was not the one he meant to buy, because he had +already from afar descried and fixed his eyes upon the real, famous one, +standing at the other end. He looked at it in such a way that one might +have supposed some one was going to steal it, or as though the cap +itself might take wings and fly into the air just to prevent Vasya from +obtaining it.</p> + +<p>"Look," said Arkady Ivanovitch, pointing to one, "I think that's +better."</p> + +<p>"Well, Arkasha, that does you credit; I begin to respect you for your +taste," said Vasya, resorting to cunning with Arkasha in the tenderness +of his heart, "your cap is charming, but come this way."</p> + +<p>"Where is there a better one, brother?"</p> + +<p>"Look; this way."</p> + +<p>"That," said Arkady, doubtfully.</p> + +<p>But when Vasya, incapable of restraining himself any longer, took it +from the stand from which it seemed to fly spontaneously, as though +delighted at falling at last into the hands of so good a customer, and +they heard the rustle of its ribbons, ruches and lace, an unexpected cry +of delight broke from the powerful chest of Arkady Ivanovitch. Even +Madame Leroux, while maintaining her incontestable dignity and +pre-eminence in matters of taste, and remaining mute from condescension, +rewarded Vasya with a smile of complete approbation, everything in her +glance, gesture and smile saying at once: "Yes, you have chosen rightly, +and are worthy of the happiness which awaits you."</p> + +<p>"It has been dangling its charms in coy seclusion," cried Vasya, +transferring his tender feelings to the charming cap. "You have been +hiding on purpose, you sly little pet!" And he kissed it, that is the +air surrounding it, for he was afraid to touch his treasure.</p> + +<p>"Retiring as true worth and virtue," Arkady added enthusiastically, +quoting humorously from a comic paper he had read that morning. "Well, +Vasya?"</p> + +<p>"Hurrah, Arkasha! You are witty to-day. I predict you will make a +sensation, as women say. Madame Leroux, Madame Leroux!"</p> + +<p>"What is your pleasure?"</p> + +<p>"Dear Madame Leroux."</p> + +<p>Madame Leroux looked at Arkady Ivanovitch and smiled +condescendingly.</p> + +<p>"You wouldn't believe how I adore you at this moment.... Allow me to +give you a kiss...." And Vasya kissed the shopkeeper.</p> + +<p>She certainly at that moment needed all her dignity to maintain her +position with such a madcap. But I contend that the innate, spontaneous +courtesy and grace with which Madame Leroux received Vasya's enthusiasm, +was equally befitting. She forgave him, and how tactfully, how +graciously, she knew how to behave in the circumstances. How could she +have been angry with Vasya?</p> + +<p>"Madame Leroux, how much?"</p> + +<p>"Five roubles in silver," she answered, straightening herself with a +new smile.</p> + +<p>"And this one, Madame Leroux?" said Arkady Ivanovitch, pointing to +his choice.</p> + +<p>"That one is eight roubles."</p> + +<p>"There, you see—there, you see! Come, Madame Leroux, tell me +which is nicer, more graceful, more charming, which of them suits you +best?"</p> + +<p>"The second is richer, but your choice <i>c'est plus coquet</i>."</p> + +<p>"Then we will take it."</p> + +<p>Madame Leroux took a sheet of very delicate paper, pinned it up, and +the paper with the cap wrapped in it seemed even lighter than the paper +alone. Vasya took it carefully, almost holding his breath, bowed to +Madame Leroux, said something else very polite to her and left the +shop.</p> + +<p>"I am a lady's man, I was born to be a lady's man," said Vasya, +laughing a little noiseless, nervous laugh and dodging the passers-by, +whom he suspected of designs for crushing his precious cap.</p> + +<p>"Listen, Arkady, brother," he began a minute later, and there was a +note of triumph, of infinite affection in his voice. "Arkady, I am so +happy, I am so happy!"</p> + +<p>"Vasya! how glad I am, dear boy!"</p> + +<p>"No, Arkasha, no. I know that there is no limit to your affection for +me; but you cannot be feeling one-hundredth part of what I am feeling at +this moment. My heart is so full, so full! Arkasha, I am not worthy of +such happiness. I feel that, I am conscious of it. Why has it come to +me?" he said, his voice full of stifled sobs. "What have I done to +deserve it? Tell me. Look what lots of people, what lots of tears, what +sorrow, what work-a-day life without a holiday, while I, I am loved by a +girl like that, I.... But you will see her yourself immediately, you +will appreciate her noble heart. I was born in a humble station, now I +have a grade in the service and an independent income—my salary. I +was born with a physical defect, I am a little deformed. See, she loves +me as I am. Yulian Mastakovitch was so kind, so attentive, so gracious +to-day; he does not often talk to me; he came up to me: 'Well, how goes +it, Vasya' (yes, really, he called me Vasya), 'are you going to have a +good time for the holiday, eh?' he laughed.</p> + +<p>"'Well, the fact is, Your Excellency, I have work to do,' but then I +plucked up courage and said: 'and maybe I shall have a good time, too, +Your Excellency.' I really said it. He gave me the money, on the spot, +then he said a couple of words more to me. Tears came into my eyes, +brother, I actually cried, and he, too, seemed touched, he patted me on +the shoulder, and said: 'Feel always, Vasya, as you feel this now.'"</p> + +<p>Vasya paused for an instant. Arkady Ivanovitch turned away, and he, +too, wiped away a tear with his fist.</p> + +<p>"And, and ..." Vasya went on, "I have never spoken to you of this, +Arkady.... Arkady, you make me so happy with your affection, without you +I could not live,—no, no, don't say anything, Arkady, let me +squeeze your hand, let me ... tha...ank ... you...." Again Vasya could +not finish.</p> + +<p>Arkady Ivanovitch longed to throw himself on Vasya's neck, but as +they were crossing the road and heard almost in their ears a shrill: +"Hi! there!" they ran frightened and excited to the pavement.</p> + +<p>Arkady Ivanovitch was positively relieved. He set down Vasya's +outburst of gratitude to the exceptional circumstances of the moment. He +was vexed. He felt that he had done so little for Vasya hitherto. He +felt actually ashamed of himself when Vasya began thanking him for so +little. But they had all their lives before them, and Arkady Ivanovitch +breathed more freely.</p> + +<p>The Artemyevs had quite given up expecting them. The proof of it was +that they had already sat down to tea! And the old, it seems, are +sometimes more clear-sighted than the young, even when the young are so +exceptional. Lizanka had very earnestly maintained, "He isn't coming, he +isn't coming, Mamma; I feel in my heart he is not coming;" while her +mother on the contrary declared "that she had a feeling that he would +certainly come, that he would not stay away, that he would run round, +that he could have no office work now, on New Year's Eve." Even as +Lizanka opened the door she did not in the least expect to see them, and +greeted them breathlessly, with her heart throbbing like a captured +bird's, flushing and turning as red as a cherry, a fruit which she +wonderfully resembled. Good Heavens, what a surprise it was! What a +joyful "Oh!" broke from her lips. "Deceiver! My darling!" she cried, +throwing her arms round Vasya's neck. But imagine her amazement, her +sudden confusion: just behind Vasya, as though trying to hide behind his +back, stood Arkady Ivanovitch, a trifle out of countenance. It must be +admitted that he was awkward in the company of women, very awkward +indeed, in fact on one occasion something occurred ... but of that +later. You must put yourself in his place, however. There was nothing to +laugh at; he was standing in the entry, in his goloshes and overcoat, +and in a cap with flaps over the ears, which he would have hastened to +pull off, but he had, all twisted round in a hideous way, a yellow +knitted scarf, which, to make things worse, was knotted at the back. He +had to disentangle all this, to take it off as quickly as possible, to +show himself to more advantage, for there is no one who does not prefer +to show himself to advantage. And then Vasya, vexatious insufferable +Vasya, of course always the same dear kind Vasya, but now insufferable, +ruthless Vasya. "Here," he shouted, "Lizanka, I have brought you my +Arkady? What do you think of him? He is my best friend, embrace him, +kiss him, Lizanka, give him a kiss in advance; afterwards—you will +know him better—you can take it back again."</p> + +<p>Well, what, I ask you, was Arkady Ivanovitch to do? And he had only +untwisted half of the scarf so far. I really am sometimes ashamed of +Vasya's excess of enthusiasm; it is, of course, the sign of a good +heart, but ... it's awkward, not nice!</p> + +<p>At last both went in.... The mother was unutterably delighted to make +Arkady Ivanovitch's acquaintance, "she had heard so much about him, she +had...." But she did not finish. A joyful "Oh!" ringing musically +through the room interrupted her in the middle of a sentence. Good +Heavens! Lizanka was standing before the cap which had suddenly been +unfolded before her gaze; she clasped her hands with the utmost +simplicity, smiling such a smile.... Oh, Heavens! why had not Madame +Leroux an even lovelier cap?</p> + +<p>Oh, Heavens! but where could you find a lovelier cap? It was quite +first-rate. Where could you get a better one? I mean it seriously. This +ingratitude on the part of lovers moves me, in fact, to indignation and +even wounds me a little. Why, look at it for yourself, reader, look, +what could be more beautiful than this little love of a cap? Come, look +at it.... But, no, no, my strictures are uncalled for; they had by now +all agreed with me; it had been a momentary aberration; the blindness, +the delirium of feeling; I am ready to forgive them.... But then you +must look.... You must excuse me, kind reader, I am still talking about +the cap: made of tulle, light as a feather, a broad cherry-coloured +ribbon covered with lace passing between the tulle and the ruche, and at +the back two wide long ribbons—they would fall down a little below +the nape of the neck.... All that the cap needed was to be tilted a +little to the back of the head; come, look at it; I ask you, after that +... but I see you are not looking ... you think it does not matter. You +are looking in a different direction.... You are looking at two big +tears, big as pearls, that rose in two jet black eyes, quivered for one +instant on the eyelashes, and then dropped on the ethereal tulle of +which Madame Leroux's artistic masterpiece was composed.... And again I +feel vexed, those two tears were scarcely a tribute to the cap.... No, +to my mind, such a gift should be given in cool blood, as only then can +its full worth be appreciated. I am, I confess, dear reader, entirely on +the side of the cap.</p> + +<p>They sat down—Vasya with Lizanka and the old mother with Arkady +Ivanovitch; they began to talk, and Arkady Ivanovitch did himself +credit, I am glad to say that for him. One would hardly, indeed, have +expected it of him. After a couple of words about Vasya he most +successfully turned the conversation to Yulian Mastakovitch, his patron. +And he talked so cleverly, so cleverly that the subject was not +exhausted for an hour. You ought to have seen with what dexterity, what +tact, Arkady Ivanovitch touched upon certain peculiarities of Yulian +Mastakovitch which directly or indirectly affected Vasya. The mother was +fascinated, genuinely fascinated; she admitted it herself; she purposely +called Vasya aside, and said to him that his friend was a most excellent +and charming young man, and, what was of most account, such a serious, +steady young man. Vasya almost laughed aloud with delight. He remembered +how the serious Arkady had tumbled him on his bed for a quarter of an +hour. Then the mother signed to Vasya to follow her quietly and +cautiously into the next room. It must be admitted that she treated +Lizanka rather unfairly: she behaved treacherously to her daughter, in +the fullness of her heart, of course, and showed Vasya on the sly the +present Lizanka was preparing to give him for the New Year. It was a +paper-case, embroidered in beads and gold in a very choice design: on +one side was depicted a stag, absolutely lifelike, running swiftly, and +so well done! On the other side was the portrait of a celebrated +General, also an excellent likeness. I cannot describe Vasya's raptures. +Meanwhile, time was not being wasted in the parlour. Lizanka went +straight up to Arkady Ivanovitch. She took his hand, she thanked him for +something, and Arkady Ivanovitch gathered that she was referring to her +precious Vasya. Lizanka was, indeed, deeply touched: she had heard that +Arkady Ivanovitch was such a true friend of her betrothed, so loved him, +so watched over him, guiding him at every step with helpful advice, that +she, Lizanka, could hardly help thanking him, could not refrain from +feeling grateful, and hoping that Arkady Ivanovitch might like her, if +only half as well as Vasya. Then she began questioning him as to whether +Vasya was careful of his health, expressed some apprehensions in regard +to his marked impulsiveness of character, and his lack of knowledge of +men and practical life; she said that she would in time watch over him +religiously, that she would take care of and cherish his lot, and +finally, she hoped that Arkady Ivanovitch would not leave them, but +would live with them.</p> + +<p>"We three shall live like one," she cried, with extremely naïve +enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>But it was time to go. They tried, of course, to keep them, but Vasya +answered point blank that it was impossible. Arkady Ivanovitch said the +same. The reason was, of course, inquired into, and it came out at once +that there was work to be done entrusted to Vasya by Yulian +Mastakovitch, urgent, necessary, dreadful work, which must be handed in +on the morning of the next day but one, and that it was not only +unfinished, but had been completely laid aside. The mamma sighed when +she heard of this, while Lizanka was positively scared, and hurried +Vasya off in alarm. The last kiss lost nothing from this haste; though +brief and hurried it was only the more warm and ardent. At last they +parted and the two friends set off home.</p> + +<p>Both began at once confiding to each other their impressions as soon +as they found themselves in the street. And could they help it? Indeed, +Arkady Ivanovitch was in love, desperately in love, with Lizanka. And to +whom could he better confide his feelings than to Vasya, the happy man +himself. And so he did; he was not bashful, but confessed everything at +once to Vasya. Vasya laughed heartily and was immensely delighted, and +even observed that this was all that was needed to make them greater +friends than ever. "You have guessed my feelings, Vasya," said Arkady +Ivanovitch. "Yes, I love her as I love you; she will be my good angel as +well as yours, for the radiance of your happiness will be shed on me, +too, and I can bask in its warmth. She will keep house for me too, +Vasya; my happiness will be in her hands. Let her keep house for me as +she will for you. Yes, friendship for you is friendship for her; you are +not separable for me now, only I shall have two beings like you instead +of one...." Arkady paused in the fullness of his feelings, while Vasya +was shaken to the depths of his being by his friend's words. The fact +is, he had never expected anything of the sort from Arkady. Arkady +Ivanovitch was not very great at talking as a rule, he was not fond of +dreaming, either; now he gave way to the liveliest, freshest, +rainbow-tinted day-dreams. "How I will protect and cherish you both," he +began again. "To begin with, Vasya, I will be godfather to all your +children, every one of them; and secondly, Vasya, we must bestir +ourselves about the future. We must buy furniture, and take a lodging so +that you and she and I can each have a little room to ourselves. Do you +know, Vasya, I'll run about to-morrow and look at the notices, on the +gates! Three ... no, two rooms, we should not need more. I really +believe, Vasya, I talked nonsense this morning, there will be money +enough; why, as soon as I glanced into her eyes I calculated at once +that there would be enough to live on. It will all be for her. Oh, how +we will work! Now, Vasya, we might venture up to twenty-five roubles for +rent. A lodging is everything, brother. Nice rooms ... and at once a man +is cheerful, and his dreams are of the brightest hues. And, besides, +Lizanka will keep the purse for both of us: not a farthing will be +wasted. Do you suppose I would go to a restaurant? What do you take me +for? Not on any account. And then we shall get a bonus and reward, for +we shall be zealous in the service—oh! how we shall work, like +oxen toiling in the fields.... Only fancy," and Arkady Ivanovitch's +voice was faint with pleasure, "all at once and quite unexpected, +twenty-five or thirty roubles.... Whenever there's an extra, there'll be +a cap or a scarf or a pair of little stockings. She must knit me a +scarf; look what a horrid one I've got, the nasty yellow thing, it did +me a bad turn to-day! And you wore a nice one, Vasya, to introduce me +while I had my head in a halter.... Though never mind that now. And look +here, I undertake all the silver. I am bound to give you some little +present,—that will be an honour, that will flatter my vanity.... +My bonuses won't fail me, surely; you don't suppose they would give them +to Skorohodov? No fear, they won't be landed in that person's pocket. +I'll buy you silver spoons, brother, good knives—not silver +knives, but thoroughly good ones; and a waistcoat, that is a waistcoat +for myself. I shall be best man, of course. Only now, brother, you must +keep at it, you must keep at it. I shall stand over you with a stick, +brother, to-day and to-morrow and all night; I shall worry you to work. +Finish, make haste and finish, brother. And then again to spend the +evening, and then again both of us happy; we will go in for loto. We +will spend the evening there—oh, it's jolly! Oh, the devil! How, +vexing it is I can't help you. I should like to take it and write it all +for you.... Why is it our handwriting is not alike?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," answered Vasya. "Yes, I must make haste. I think it must be +eleven o'clock; we must make haste.... To work!" And saying this, Vasya, +who had been all the time alternately smiling and trying to interrupt +with some enthusiastic rejoinder the flow of his friend's feelings, and +had, in short, been showing the most cordial response, suddenly +subsided, sank into silence, and almost ran along the street. It seemed +as though some burdensome idea had suddenly chilled his feverish head; +he seemed all at once dispirited.</p> + +<p>Arkady Ivanovitch felt quite uneasy; he scarcely got an answer to his +hurried questions from Vasya, who confined himself to a word or two, +sometimes an irrelevant exclamation.</p> + +<p>"Why, what is the matter with you, Vasya?" he cried at last, hardly +able to keep up with him. "Can you really be so uneasy?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, brother, that's enough chatter!" Vasya answered, with +vexation.</p> + +<p>"Don't be depressed, Vasya—come, come," Arkady interposed. +"Why, I have known you write much more in a shorter time! What's the +matter? You've simply a talent for it! You can write quickly in an +emergency; they are not going to lithograph your copy. You've plenty of +time!... The only thing is that you are excited now, and preoccupied, +and the work won't go so easily."</p> + +<p>Vasya made no reply, or muttered something to himself, and they both +ran home in genuine anxiety.</p> + +<p>Vasya sat down to the papers at once. Arkady Ivanovitch was quiet and +silent; he noiselessly undressed and went to bed, keeping his eyes fixed +on Vasya.... A sort of panic came over him.... "What is the matter with +him?" he thought to himself, looking at Vasya's face that grew whiter +and whiter, at his feverish eyes, at the anxiety that was betrayed in +every movement he made, "why, his hand is shaking ... what a stupid! Why +did I not advise him to sleep for a couple of hours, till he had slept +off his nervous excitement, any way." Vasya had just finished a page, he +raised his eyes, glanced casually at Arkady and at once, looking down, +took up his pen again.</p> + +<p>"Listen, Vasya," Arkady Ivanovitch began suddenly, "wouldn't it be +best to sleep a little now? Look, you are in a regular fever."</p> + +<p>Vasya glanced at Arkady with vexation, almost with anger, and made no +answer.</p> + +<p>"Listen, Vasya, you'll make yourself ill."</p> + +<p>Vasya at once changed his mind. "How would it be to have tea, +Arkady?" he said.</p> + +<p>"How so? Why?"</p> + +<p>"It will do me good. I am not sleepy, I'm not going to bed! I am +going on writing. But now I should like to rest and have a cup of tea, +and the worst moment will be over."</p> + +<p>"First-rate, brother Vasya, delightful! Just so. I was wanting to +propose it myself. And I can't think why it did not occur to me to do +so. But I say, Mavra won't get up, she won't wake for anything...."</p> + +<p>"True."</p> + +<p>"That's no matter, though," cried Arkady Ivanovitch, leaping out of +bed. "I will set the samovar myself. It won't be the first time...."</p> + +<p>Arkady Ivanovitch ran to the kitchen and set to work to get the +samovar; Vasya meanwhile went on writing. Arkady Ivanovitch, moreover, +dressed and ran out to the baker's, so that Vasya might have something +to sustain him for the night. A quarter of an hour later the samovar was +on the table. They began drinking tea, but conversation flagged. Vasya +still seemed preoccupied.</p> + +<p>"To-morrow," he said at last, as though he had just thought of it, "I +shall have to take my congratulations for the New Year...."</p> + +<p>"You need not go at all."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, brother, I must," said Vasya.</p> + +<p>"Why, I will sign the visitors' book for you everywhere.... How can +you? You work to-morrow. You must work to-night, till five o'clock in +the morning, as I said, and then get to bed. Or else you will be good +for nothing to-morrow. I'll wake you at eight o'clock, punctually."</p> + +<p>"But will it be all right, your signing for me?" said Vasya, half +assenting.</p> + +<p>"Why, what could be better? Everyone does it."</p> + +<p>"I am really afraid."</p> + +<p>"Why, why?"</p> + +<p>"It's all right, you know, with other people, but Yulian Mastakovitch +... he has been so kind to me, you know, Arkasha, and when he notices +it's not my own signature——"</p> + +<p>"Notices! why, what a fellow you are, really, Vasya! How could he +notice?... Come, you know I can imitate your signature awfully well, and +make just the same flourish to it, upon my word I can. What nonsense! +Who would notice?"</p> + +<p>Vasya, made no reply, but emptied his glass hurriedly.... Then he +shook his head doubtfully.</p> + +<p>"Vasya, dear boy! Ah, if only we succeed! Vasya, what's the matter +with you, you quite frighten me! Do you know, Vasya, I am not going to +bed now, I am not going to sleep! Show me, have you a great deal +left?"</p> + +<p>Vasya gave Arkady such a look that his heart sank, and his tongue +failed him.</p> + +<p>"Vasya, what is the matter? What are you thinking? Why do you look +like that?"</p> + +<p>"Arkady, I really must go to-morrow to wish Yulian Mastakovitch a +happy New Year."</p> + +<p>"Well, go then!" said Arkady, gazing at him open-eyed, in uneasy +expectation. "I say, Vasya, do write faster; I am advising you for your +good, I really am! How often Yulian Mastakovitch himself has said that +what he likes particularly about your writing is its legibility. Why, it +is all that Skoroplehin cares for, that writing should be good and +distinct like a copy, so as afterwards to pocket the paper and take it +home for his children to copy; he can't buy copybooks, the blockhead! +Yulian Mastakovitch is always saying, always insisting: 'Legible, +legible, legible!'... What is the matter? Vasya, I really don't know +how to talk to you ... it quite frightens me ... you crush me with your +depression."</p> + +<p>"It's all right, it's all right," said Vasya, and he fell back in his +chair as though fainting. Arkady was alarmed.</p> + +<p>"Will you have some water? Vasya! Vasya!"</p> + +<p>"Don't, don't," said Vasya, pressing his hand. "I am all right, I +only feel sad, I can't tell why. Better talk of something else; let me +forget it."</p> + +<p>"Calm yourself, for goodness' sake, calm yourself, Vasya. You will +finish it all right, on my honour, you will. And even if you don't +finish, what will it matter? You talk as though it were a crime!"</p> + +<p>"Arkady," said Vasya, looking at his friend with such meaning that +Arkady was quite frightened, for Vasya had never been so agitated +before.... "If I were alone, as I used to be.... No! I don't mean that. +I keep wanting to tell you as a friend, to confide in you.... But why +worry you, though?... You see, Arkady, to some much is given, others do +a little thing as I do. Well, if gratitude, appreciation, is expected of +you ... and you can't give it?"</p> + +<p>"Vasya, I don't understand you in the least."</p> + +<p>"I have never been ungrateful," Vasya went on softly, as though +speaking to himself, "but if I am incapable of expressing all I feel, it +seems as though ... it seems, Arkady, as though I am really ungrateful, +and that's killing me."</p> + +<p>"What next, what next! As though gratitude meant nothing more than +your finishing that copy in time? Just think what you are saying, Vasya? +Is that the whole expression of gratitude?"</p> + +<p>Vasya sank into silence at once, and looked open-eyed at Arkady, as +though his unexpected argument had settled all his doubts. He even +smiled, but the same melancholy expression came back to his face at +once. Arkady, taking this smile as a sign that all his uneasiness was +over, and the look that succeeded it as an indication that he was +determined to do better, was greatly relieved.</p> + +<p>"Well, brother Arkasha, you will wake up," said Vasya, "keep an eye +on me; if I fall asleep it will be dreadful. I'll set to work now.... +Arkasha?"</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's nothing, I only ... I meant...."</p> + +<p>Vasya settled himself, and said no more, Arkady got into bed. Neither +of them said one word about their friends, the Artemyevs. Perhaps both +of them felt that they had been a little to blame, and that they ought +not to have gone for their jaunt when they did. Arkady soon fell asleep, +still worried about Vasya. To his own surprise he woke up exactly at +eight o'clock in the morning. Vasya was asleep in his chair with the pen +in his hand, pale and exhausted; the candle had burnt out. Mavra was +busy getting the samovar ready in the kitchen.</p> + +<p>"Vasya, Vasya!" Arkady cried in alarm, "when did you fall +asleep?"</p> + +<p>Vasya opened his eyes and jumped up from his chair.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" he cried, "I must have fallen asleep...."</p> + +<p>He flew to the papers—everything was right; all were in order; +there was not a blot of ink, nor spot of grease from the candle on +them.</p> + +<p>"I think I must have fallen asleep about six o'clock," said Vasya. +"How cold it is in the night! Let us have tea, and I will go on +again...."</p> + +<p>"Do you feel better?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, I'm all right, I'm all right now."</p> + +<p>"A happy New Year to you, brother Vasya."</p> + +<p>"And to you too, brother, the same to you, dear boy."</p> + +<p>They embraced each other. Vasya's chin was quivering and his eyes +were moist. Arkady Ivanovitch was silent, he felt sad. They drank their +tea hastily.</p> + +<p>"Arkady, I've made up my mind, I am going myself to Yulian +Mastakovitch."</p> + +<p>"Why, he wouldn't notice——"</p> + +<p>"But my conscience feels ill at ease, brother."</p> + +<p>"But you know it's for his sake you are sitting here; it's for his +sake you are wearing yourself out."</p> + +<p>"Enough!"</p> + +<p>"Do you know what, brother, I'll go round and see...."</p> + +<p>"Whom?" asked Vasya.</p> + +<p>"The Artemyevs. I'll take them your good wishes for the New Year as +well as mine."</p> + +<p>"My dear fellow! Well, I'll stay here; and I see it's a good idea of +yours; I shall be working here, I shan't waste my time. Wait one minute, +I'll write a note."</p> + +<p>"Yes, do brother, do, there's plenty of time. I've still to wash and +shave and to brush my best coat. Well, Vasya, we are going to be +contented and happy. Embrace me, Vasya."</p> + +<p>"Ah, if only we may, brother...."</p> + +<p>"Does Mr. Shumkov live here?" they heard a child's voice on the +stairs.</p> + +<p>"Yes, my dear, yes," said Mavra, showing the visitor in.</p> + +<p>"What's that? What is it?" cried Vasya, leaping up from the table and +rushing to the entry, "Petinka, you?"</p> + +<p>"Good morning, I have the honour to wish you a happy New Year, +Vassily Petrovitch," said a pretty boy of ten years old with curly black +hair. "Sister sends you her love, and so does Mamma, and Sister told me +to give you a kiss for her."</p> + +<p>Vasya caught the messenger up in the air and printed a long, +enthusiastic kiss on his lips, which were very much like Lizanka's.</p> + +<p>"Kiss him, Arkady," he said handing Petya to him, and without +touching the ground the boy was transferred to Arkady Ivanovitch's +powerful and eager arms.</p> + +<p>"Will you have some breakfast, dear?"</p> + +<p>"Thank-you, very much. We have had it already, we got up early +to-day, the others have gone to church. Sister was two hours curling my +hair, and pomading it, washing me and mending my trousers, for I tore +them yesterday, playing with Sashka in the street, we were +snowballing."</p> + +<p>"Well, well, well!"</p> + +<p>"So she dressed me up to come and see you, and then pomaded my head +and then gave me a regular kissing. She said: 'Go to Vasya, wish him a +happy New Year, and ask whether they are happy, whether they had a good +night, and ...' to ask something else,—oh yes! whether you had +finished the work you spoke of yesterday ... when you were there. Oh, +I've got it all written down," said the boy, reading from a slip of +paper which he took out of his pocket. "Yes, they were uneasy."</p> + +<p>"It will be finished! It will be! Tell her that it will be. I shall +finish it, on my word of honour!"</p> + +<p>"And something else.... Oh yes, I forgot. Sister sent a little note +and a present, and I was forgetting it!..."</p> + +<p>"My goodness! Oh, you little darling! Where is it? where is it? +That's it, oh! Look, brother, see what she writes. The dar—ling, +the precious! You know I saw there yesterday a paper-case for me; it's +not finished, so she says, 'I am sending you a lock of my hair, and the +other will come later.' Look, brother, look!"</p> + +<p>And overwhelmed with rapture he showed Arkady Ivanovitch a curl of +luxuriant, jet-black hair; then he kissed it fervently and put it in his +breast pocket, nearest his heart.</p> + +<p>"Vasya, I shall get you a locket for that curl," Arkady Ivanovitch +said resolutely at last.</p> + +<p>"And we are going to have hot veal, and to-morrow brains. Mamma wants +to make cakes ... but we are not going to have millet porridge," said +the boy, after a moment's thought, to wind up his budget of interesting +items.</p> + +<p>"Oh! what a pretty boy," cried Arkady Ivanovitch. "Vasya, you are the +happiest of mortals."</p> + +<p>The boy finished his tea, took from Vasya a note, a thousand kisses, +and went out happy and frolicsome as before.</p> + +<p>"Well, brother," began Arkady Ivanovitch, highly delighted, "you see +how splendid it all is; you see. Everything is going well, don't be +downcast, don't be uneasy. Go ahead! Get it done, Vasya, get it done. +I'll be home at two o'clock. I'll go round to them, and then to Yulian +Mastakovitch."</p> + +<p>"Well, good-bye, brother; good-bye.... Oh! if only.... Very good, you +go, very good," said Vasya, "then I really won't go to Yulian +Mastakovitch."</p> + +<p>"Good-bye."</p> + +<p>"Stay, brother, stay, tell them ... well, whatever you think fit. +Kiss her ... and give me a full account of everything afterwards."</p> + +<p>"Come, come—of course, I know all about it. This happiness has +upset you. The suddenness of it all; you've not been yourself since +yesterday. You have not got over the excitement of yesterday. Well, it's +settled. Now try and get over it, Vasya. Good-bye, good-bye!"</p> + +<p>At last the friends parted. All the morning Arkady Ivanovitch was +preoccupied, and could think of nothing but Vasya. He knew his weak, +highly nervous character. "Yes, this happiness has upset him, I was +right there," he said to himself. "Upon my word, he has made me quite +depressed, too, that man will make a tragedy of anything! What a +feverish creature! Oh, I must save him! I must save him!" said Arkady, +not noticing that he himself was exaggerating into something serious a +slight trouble, in reality quite trivial. Only at eleven o'clock he +reached the porter's lodge of Yulian Mastakovitch's house, to add his +modest name to the long list of illustrious persons who had written +their names on a sheet of blotted and scribbled paper in the porter's +lodge. What was his surprise when he saw just above his own the +signature of Vasya Shumkov! It amazed him. "What's the matter with him?" +he thought. Arkady Ivanovitch, who had just been so buoyant with hope, +came out feeling upset. There was certainly going to be trouble, but +how? And in what form?</p> + +<p>He reached the Artemyevs with gloomy forebodings; he seemed +absent-minded from the first, and after talking a little with Lizanka +went away with tears in his eyes; he was really anxious about Vasya. He +went home running, and on the Neva came full tilt upon Vasya himself. +The latter, too, was uneasy.</p> + +<p>"Where are you going?" cried Arkady Ivanovitch.</p> + +<p>Vasya stopped as though he had been caught in a crime.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's nothing, brother, I wanted to go for a walk."</p> + +<p>"You could not stand it, and have been to the Artemyevs? Oh, Vasya, +Vasya! Why did you go to Yulian Mastakovitch?"</p> + +<p>Vasya did not answer, but then with a wave of his hand, he said: +"Arkady, I don't know what is the matter with me. I...."</p> + +<p>"Come, come, Vasya. I know what it is. Calm yourself. You've been +excited, and overwrought ever since yesterday. Only think, it's not much +to bear. Everybody's fond of you, everybody's ready to do anything for +you; your work is getting on all right; you will get it done, you will +certainly get it done. I know that you have been imagining something, +you have had apprehensions about something...."</p> + +<p>"No, it's all right, it's all right...."</p> + +<p>"Do you remember, Vasya, do you remember it was the same with you +once before; do you remember, when you got your promotion, in your joy +and thankfulness you were so zealous that you spoilt all your work for a +week? It is just the same with you now."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, Arkady; but now it is different, it is not that at +all."</p> + +<p>"How is it different? And very likely the work is not urgent at all, +while you are killing yourself...."</p> + +<p>"It's nothing, it's nothing. I am all right, it's nothing. Well, come +along!"</p> + +<p>"Why, are you going home, and not to them?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, brother, how could I have the face to turn up there?... I have +changed my mind. It was only that I could not stay on alone without you; +now you are coming back with me I'll sit down to write again. Let us +go!"</p> + +<p>They walked along and for some time were silent. Vasya was in +haste.</p> + +<p>"Why don't you ask me about them?" said Arkady Ivanovitch.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes! Well, Arkasha, what about them?"</p> + +<p>"Vasya, you are not like yourself."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I am all right, I am all right. Tell me everything, Arkasha," +said Vasya, in an imploring voice, as though to avoid further +explanations. Arkady Ivanovitch sighed. He felt utterly at a loss, +looking at Vasya.</p> + +<p>His account of their friends roused Vasya. He even grew talkative. +They had dinner together. Lizanka's mother had filled Arkady +Ivanovitch's pockets with little cakes, and eating them the friends grew +more cheerful. After dinner Vasya promised to take a nap, so as to sit +up all night. He did, in fact, lie down. In the morning, some one whom +it was impossible to refuse had invited Arkady Ivanovitch to tea. The +friends parted. Arkady promised to come back as soon as he could, by +eight o'clock if possible. The three hours of separation seemed to him +like three years. At last he got away and rushed back to Vasya. When he +went into the room, he found it in darkness. Vasya was not at home. He +asked Mavra. Mavra said that he had been writing all the time, and had +not slept at all, then he had paced up and down the room, and after +that, an hour before, he had run out, saying he would be back in +half-an-hour; "and when, says he, Arkady Ivanovitch comes in, tell him, +old woman, says he," Mavra told him in conclusion, "that I have gone out +for a walk," and he repeated the order three or four times.</p> + +<p>"He is at the Artemyevs," thought Arkady Ivanovitch, and he shook his +head.</p> + +<p>A minute later he jumped up with renewed hope.</p> + +<p>"He has simply finished," he thought, "that's all it is; he couldn't +wait, but ran off there. But, no! he would have waited for me.... Let's +have a peep what he has there."</p> + +<p>He lighted a candle, and ran to Vasya's writing-table: the work had +made progress and it looked as though there were not much left to do. +Arkady Ivanovitch was about to investigate further, when Vasya himself +walked in....</p> + +<p>"Oh, you are here?" he cried, with a start of dismay.</p> + +<p>Arkady Ivanovitch was silent. He was afraid to question Vasya. The +latter dropped his eyes and remained silent too, as he began sorting the +papers. At last their eyes met. The look in Vasya's was so beseeching, +imploring, and broken, that Arkady shuddered when he saw it. His heart +quivered and was full.</p> + +<p>"Vasya, my dear boy, what is it? What's wrong?" he cried, rushing to +him and squeezing him in his arms. "Explain to me, I don't understand +you, and your depression. What is the matter with you, my poor, +tormented boy? What is it? Tell me all about it, without hiding +anything. It can't be only this——"</p> + +<p>Vasya held him tight and could say nothing. He could scarcely +breathe.</p> + +<p>"Don't, Vasya, don't! Well, if you don't finish it, what then? I +don't understand you; tell me your trouble. You see it is for your sake +I.... Oh dear! oh dear!" he said, walking up and down the room and +clutching at everything he came across, as though seeking at once some +remedy for Vasya. "I will go to Yulian Mastakovitch instead of you +to-morrow. I will ask him—entreat him—to let you have +another day. I will explain it all to him, anything, if it worries you +so...."</p> + +<p>"God forbid!" cried Vasya, and turned as white as the wall. He could +scarcely stand on his feet.</p> + +<p>"Vasya! Vasya!"</p> + +<p>Vasya pulled himself together. His lips were quivering; he tried to +say something, but could only convulsively squeeze Arkady's hand in +silence. His hand was cold. Arkady stood facing him, full of anxious and +miserable suspense. Vasya raised his eyes again.</p> + +<p>"Vasya, God bless you, Vasya! You wring my heart, my dear boy, my +friend."</p> + +<p>Tears gushed from Vasya's eyes; he flung himself on Arkady's +bosom.</p> + +<p>"I have deceived you, Arkady," he said. "I have deceived you. Forgive +me, forgive me! I have been faithless to your friendship...."</p> + +<p>"What is it, Vasya? What is the matter?" asked Arkady, in real +alarm.</p> + +<p>"Look!"</p> + +<p>And with a gesture of despair Vasya tossed out of the drawer on to +the table six thick manuscripts, similar to the one he had copied.</p> + +<p>"What's this?"</p> + +<p>"What I have to get through by the day after to-morrow. I haven't +done a quarter! Don't ask me, don't ask me how it has happened," Vasya +went on, speaking at once of what was distressing him so terribly. +"Arkady, dear friend, I don't know myself what came over me. I feel as +though I were coming out of a dream. I have wasted three weeks doing +nothing. I kept ... I ... kept going to see her.... My heart was aching, +I was tormented by ... the uncertainty ... I could not write. I did not +even think about it. Only now, when happiness is at hand for me, I have +come to my senses."</p> + +<p>"Vasya," began Arkady Ivanovitch resolutely, "Vasya, I will save you. +I understand it all. It's a serious matter; I will save you. Listen! +listen to me: I will go to Yulian Mastakovitch to-morrow.... Don't shake +your head; no, listen! I will tell him exactly how it has all been; let +me do that ... I will explain to him.... I will go into everything. I +will tell him how crushed you are, how you are worrying yourself."</p> + +<p>"Do you know that you are killing me now?" Vasya brought out, turning +cold with horror.</p> + +<p>Arkady Ivanovitch turned pale, but at once controlling himself, +laughed.</p> + +<p>"Is that all? Is that all?" he said. "Upon my word, Vasya, upon my +word! Aren't you ashamed? Come, listen! I see that I am grieving you. +You see I understand you; I know what is passing in your heart. Why, we +have been living together for five years, thank God! You are such a +kind, soft-hearted fellow, but weak, unpardonably weak. Why, even +Lizaveta Mikalovna has noticed it. And you are a dreamer, and that's a +bad thing, too; you may go from bad to worse, brother. I tell you, I +know what you want! You would like Yulian Mastakovitch, for instance, to +be beside himself and, maybe, to give a ball, too, from joy, because you +are going to get married.... Stop, stop! you are frowning. You see that +at one word from me you are offended on Yulian Mastakovitch's account. +I'll let him alone. You know I respect him just as much as you do. But +argue as you may, you can't prevent my thinking that you would like +there to be no one unhappy in the whole world when you are getting +married.... Yes, brother, you must admit that you would like me, for +instance, your best friend, to come in for a fortune of a hundred +thousand all of a sudden, you would like all the enemies in the world to +be suddenly, for no rhyme or reason, reconciled, so that in their joy +they might all embrace one another in the middle of the street, and +then, perhaps, come here to call on you. Vasya, my dear boy, I am not +laughing; it is true; you've said as much to me long ago, in different +ways. Because you are happy, you want every one, absolutely every one, +to become happy at once. It hurts you and troubles you to be happy +alone. And so you want at once to do your utmost to be worthy of that +happiness, and maybe to do some great deed to satisfy your conscience. +Oh! I understand how ready you are to distress yourself for having +suddenly been remiss just where you ought to have shown your zeal, your +capacity ... well, maybe your gratitude, as you say. It is very bitter +for you to think that Yulian Mastakovitch may frown and even be angry +when he sees that you have not justified the expectations he had of you. +It hurts you to think that you may hear reproaches from the man you look +upon as your benefactor—and at such a moment! when your heart is +full of joy and you don't know on whom to lavish your gratitude.... +Isn't that true? It is, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>Arkady Ivanovitch, whose voice was trembling, paused, and drew a deep +breath.</p> + +<p>Vasya looked affectionately at his friend. A smile passed over his +lips. His face even lighted up, as though with a gleam of hope.</p> + +<p>"Well, listen, then," Arkady Ivanovitch began again, growing more +hopeful, "there's no necessity that you should forfeit Yulian +Mastakovitch's favour.... Is there, dear boy? Is there any question of +it? And since it is so," said Arkady, jumping up, "I shall sacrifice +myself for you. I am going to-morrow to Yulian Mastakovitch, and don't +oppose me. You magnify your failure to a crime, Vasya. Yulian +Mastakovitch is magnanimous and merciful, and, what is more, he is not +like you. He will listen to you and me, and get us out of our trouble, +brother Vasya. Well, are you calmer?"</p> + +<p>Vasya pressed his friend's hands with tears in his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Hush, hush, Arkady," he said, "the thing is settled. I haven't +finished, so very well; if I haven't finished, I haven't finished, and +there's no need for you to go. I will tell him all about it, I will go +myself. I am calmer now, I am perfectly calm; only you mustn't go.... +But listen...."</p> + +<p>"Vasya, my dear boy," Arkady Ivanovitch cried joyfully, "I judged +from what you said. I am glad that you have thought better of things and +have recovered yourself. But whatever may befall you, whatever happens, +I am with you, remember that. I see that it worries you to think of my +speaking to Yulian Mastakovitch—and I won't say a word, not a +word, you shall tell him yourself. You see, you shall go to-morrow.... +Oh no, you had better not go, you'll go on writing here, you see, and +I'll find out about this work, whether it is very urgent or not, whether +it must be done by the time or not, and if you don't finish it in time +what will come of it. Then I will run back to you. Do you see, do you +see! There is still hope; suppose the work is not urgent—it may be +all right. Yulian Mastakovitch may not remember, then all is saved."</p> + +<p>Vasya shook his head doubtfully. But his grateful eyes never left his +friend's face.</p> + +<p>"Come, that's enough, I am so weak, so tired," he said, sighing. "I +don't want to think about it. Let us talk of something else. I won't +write either now; do you know I'll only finish two short pages just to +get to the end of a passage. Listen ... I have long wanted to ask you, +how is it you know me so well?"</p> + +<p>Tears dropped from Vasya's eyes on Arkady's hand.</p> + +<p>"If you knew, Vasya, how fond I am of you, you would not ask +that—yes!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, Arkady, I don't know that, because I don't know why you +are so fond of me. Yes, Arkady, do you know, even your love has been +killing me? Do you know, ever so many times, particularly when I am +thinking of you in bed (for I always think of you when I am falling +asleep), I shed tears, and my heart throbs at the thought ... at the +thought.... Well, at the thought that you are so fond of me, while I can +do nothing to relieve my heart, can do nothing to repay you."</p> + +<p>"You see, Vasya, you see what a fellow you are! Why, how upset you +are now," said Arkady, whose heart ached at that moment and who +remembered the scene in the street the day before.</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, you want me to be calm, but I never have been so calm and +happy! Do you know.... Listen, I want to tell you all about it, but I am +afraid of wounding you.... You keep scolding me and being vexed; and I +am afraid.... See how I am trembling now, I don't know why. You see, +this is what I want to say. I feel as though I had never known myself +before—yes! Yes, I only began to understand other people too, +yesterday. I did not feel or appreciate things fully, brother. My heart +... was hard.... Listen how has it happened, that I have never done good +to any one, any one in the world, because I couldn't—I am not even +pleasant to look at.... But everybody does me good! You, to begin with: +do you suppose I don't see that? Only I said nothing; only I said +nothing."</p> + +<p>"Hush, Vasya!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Arkasha! ... it's all right," Vasya interrupted, hardly able to +articulate for tears. "I talked to you yesterday about Yulian +Mastakovitch. And you know yourself how stern and severe he is, even you +have come in for a reprimand from him; yet he deigned to jest with me +yesterday, to show his affection, and kind-heartedness, which he +prudently conceals from every one...."</p> + +<p>"Come, Vasya, that only shows you deserve your good fortune."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Arkasha! How I longed to finish all this.... No, I shall ruin my +good luck! I feel that! Oh no, not through that," Vasya added, seeing +that Arkady glanced at the heap of urgent work lying on the table, +"that's nothing, that's only paper covered with writing ... it's +nonsense! That matter's settled.... I went to see them to-day, Arkasha; +I did not go in. I felt depressed and sad. I simply stood at the door. +She was playing the piano, I listened. You see, Arkady," he went on, +dropping his voice, "I did not dare to go in."</p> + +<p>"I say, Vasya—what is the matter with you? You look at one so +strangely."</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's nothing, I feel a little sick; my legs are trembling; it's +because I sat up last night. Yes! Everything looks green before my eyes. +It's here, here——"</p> + +<p>He pointed to his heart. He fainted. When he came to himself Arkady +tried to take forcible measures. He tried to compel him to go to bed. +Nothing would induce Vasya to consent. He shed tears, wrung his hands, +wanted to write, was absolutely set on finishing his two pages. To avoid +exciting him Arkady let him sit down to the work.</p> + +<p>"Do you know," said Vasya, as he settled himself in his place, "an +idea has occurred to me? There is hope."</p> + +<p>He smiled to Arkady, and his pale face lighted up with a gleam of +hope.</p> + +<p>"I will take him what is done the day after to-morrow. About the rest +I will tell a lie. I will say it has been burnt, that it has been sopped +in water, that I have lost it.... That, in fact, I have not finished it; +I cannot lie. I will explain, do you know, what? I'll explain to him all +about it. I will tell him how it was that I could not. I'll tell him +about my love; he has got married himself just lately, he'll understand +me. I will do it all, of course, respectfully, quietly; he will see my +tears and be touched by them...."</p> + +<p>"Yes, of course, you must go, you must go and explain to him.... But +there's no need of tears! Tears for what? Really, Vasya, you quite scare +me."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I'll go, I'll go. But now let me write, let me write, Arkasha. +I am not interfering with any one, let me write!"</p> + +<p>Arkady flung himself on the bed. He had no confidence in Vasya, no +confidence at all. <ins title="quote mark missing in +original">"</ins>Vasya was capable of anything, but to ask forgiveness +for what? how? That was not the point. The point was, that Vasya had not +carried out his obligations, that Vasya felt guilty <i>in his own +eyes</i>, felt that he was ungrateful to destiny, that Vasya was +crushed, overwhelmed by happiness and thought himself unworthy of it; +that, in fact, he was simply trying to find an excuse to go off his head +on that point, and that he had not recovered from the unexpectedness of +what had happened the day before; that's what it is," thought Arkady +Ivanovitch. "I must save him. I must reconcile him to himself. He will +be his own ruin." He thought and thought, and resolved to go at once +next day to Yulian Mastakovitch, and to tell him all about it.</p> + +<p>Vasya was sitting writing. Arkady Ivanovitch, worn out, lay down to +think things over again, and only woke at daybreak.</p> + +<p>"Damnation! Again!" he cried, looking at Vasya; the latter was still +sitting writing.</p> + +<p>Arkady rushed up to him, seized him and forcibly put him to bed. +Vasya was smiling: his eyes were closing with sleep. He could hardly +speak.</p> + +<p>"I wanted to go to bed," he said. "Do you know, Arkady, I have an +idea; I shall finish. I made my pen go faster! I could not have sat at +it any longer; wake me at eight o'clock."</p> + +<p>Without finishing his sentence, he dropped asleep and slept like the +dead.</p> + +<p>"Mavra," said Arkady Ivanovitch to Mavra, who came in with the tea, +"he asked to be waked in an hour. Don't wake him on any account! Let him +sleep ten hours, if he can. Do you understand?"</p> + +<p>"I understand, sir."</p> + +<p>"Don't get the dinner, don't bring in the wood, don't make a noise or +it will be the worse for you. If he asks for me, tell him I have gone to +the office—do you understand?"</p> + +<p>"I understand, bless you, sir; let him sleep and welcome! I am glad +my gentlemen should sleep well, and I take good care of their things. +And about that cup that was broken, and you blamed me, your honour, it +wasn't me, it was poor pussy broke it, I ought to have kept an eye on +her. 'S-sh, you confounded thing,' I said."</p> + +<p>"Hush, be quiet, be quiet!"</p> + +<p>Arkady Ivanovitch followed Mavra out into the kitchen, asked for the +key and locked her up there. Then he went to the office. On the way he +considered how he could present himself before Yulian Mastakovitch, and +whether it would be appropriate and not impertinent. He went into the +office timidly, and timidly inquired whether His Excellency were there; +receiving the answer that he was not and would not be, Arkady Ivanovitch +instantly thought of going to his flat, but reflected very prudently +that if Yulian Mastakovitch had not come to the office he would +certainly be busy at home. He remained. The hours seemed to him endless. +Indirectly he inquired about the work entrusted to Shumkov, but no one +knew anything about this. All that was known was that Yulian +Mastakovitch did employ him on special jobs, but what they were—no +one could say. At last it struck three o'clock, and Arkady Ivanovitch +rushed out, eager to get home. In the vestibule he was met by a clerk, +who told him that Vassily Petrovitch Shumkov had come about one o'clock +and asked, the clerk added, "whether you were here, and whether Yulian +Mastakovitch had been here." Hearing this Arkady Ivanovitch took a +sledge and hastened home beside himself with alarm.</p> + +<p>Shumkov was at home. He was walking about the room in violent +excitement. Glancing at Arkady Ivanovitch, he immediately controlled +himself, reflected, and hastened to conceal his emotion. He sat down to +his papers without a word. He seemed to avoid his friend's questions, +seemed to be bothered by them, to be pondering to himself on some plan, +and deciding to conceal his decision, because he could not reckon +further on his friend's affection. This struck Arkady, and his heart +ached with a poignant and oppressive pain. He sat on the bed and began +turning over the leaves of some book, the only one he had in his +possession, keeping his eye on poor Vasya. But Vasya remained +obstinately silent, writing, and not raising his head. So passed several +hours, and Arkady's misery reached an extreme point. At last, at eleven +o'clock, Vasya lifted his head and looked with a fixed, vacant stare at +Arkady. Arkady waited. Two or three minutes passed; Vasya did not +speak.</p> + +<p>"Vasya!" cried Arkady.</p> + +<p>Vasya made no answer.</p> + +<p>"Vasya!" he repeated, jumping up from the bed, "Vasya, what is the +matter with you? What is it?" he cried, running up to him.</p> + +<p>Vasya raised his eyes and again looked at him with the same vacant, +fixed stare.</p> + +<p>"He's in a trance!" thought Arkady, trembling all over with fear. He +seized a bottle of water, raised Vasya, poured some water on his head, +moistened his temples, rubbed his hands in his own—and Vasya came +to himself. "Vasya, Vasya!" cried Arkady, unable to restrain his tears. +"Vasya, save yourself, rouse yourself, rouse yourself!..." He could say +no more, but held him tight in his arms. A look as of some oppressive +sensation passed over Vasya's face; he rubbed his forehead and clutched +at his head, as though he were afraid it would burst.</p> + +<p>"I don't know what is the matter with me," he added, at last. "I feel +torn to pieces. Come, it's all right, it's all right! Give over, Arkady; +don't grieve," he repeated, looking at him with sad, exhausted eyes. +"Why be so anxious? Come!"</p> + +<p>"You, you comforting me!" cried Arkady, whose heart was torn. +"Vasya," he said at last, "lie down and have a little nap, won't you? +Don't wear yourself out for nothing! You'll set to work better +afterwards."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes," said Vasya, "by all means, I'll lie down, very good. Yes! +you see I meant to finish, but now I've changed my mind, yes...."</p> + +<p>And Arkady led him to the bed.</p> + +<p>"Listen, Vasya," he said firmly, "we must settle this matter finally. +Tell me what were you thinking about?"</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said Vasya, with a flourish of his weak hand turning over on +the other side.</p> + +<p>"Come, Vasya, come, make up your mind. I don't want to hurt you. I +can't be silent any longer. You won't sleep till you've made up your +mind, I know."</p> + +<p>"As you like, as you like," Vasya repeated enigmatically.</p> + +<p>"He will give in," thought Arkady Ivanovitch.</p> + +<p>"Attend to me, Vasya," he said, "remember what I say, and I will save +you to-morrow; to-morrow I will decide your fate! What am I saying, your +fate? You have so frightened me, Vasya, that I am using your own words. +Fate, indeed! It's simply nonsense, rubbish! You don't want to lose +Yulian Mastakovitch's favour—affection, if you like. No! And you +won't lose it, you will see. I——"</p> + +<p>Arkady Ivanovitch would have said more, but Vasya interrupted him. He +sat up in bed, put both arms round Arkady Ivanovitch's neck and kissed +him.</p> + +<p>"Enough," he said in a weak voice, "enough! Say no more about +that!"</p> + +<p>And again he turned his face to the wall.</p> + +<p>"My goodness!" thought Arkady, "my goodness! What is the matter with +him? He is utterly lost. What has he in his mind! He will be his own +undoing."</p> + +<p>Arkady looked at him in despair.</p> + +<p>"If he were to fall ill," thought Arkady, "perhaps it would be +better. His trouble would pass off with illness, and that might be the +best way of settling the whole business. But what nonsense I am talking. +Oh, my God!"</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Vasya seemed to be asleep. Arkady Ivanovitch was relieved. +"A good sign," he thought. He made up his mind to sit beside him all +night. But Vasya was restless; he kept twitching and tossing about on +the bed, and opening his eyes for an instant. At last exhaustion got the +upper hand, he slept like the dead. It was about two o'clock in the +morning, Arkady Ivanovitch began to doze in the chair with his elbow on +the table!</p> + +<p>He had a strange and agitated dream. He kept fancying that he was not +asleep, and that Vasya was still lying on the bed. But strange to say, +he fancied that Vasya was pretending, that he was deceiving him, that he +was getting up, stealthily watching him out of the corner of his eye, +and was stealing up to the writing table. Arkady felt a scalding pain at +his heart; he felt vexed and sad and oppressed to see Vasya not trusting +him, hiding and concealing himself from him. He tried to catch hold of +him, to call out, to carry him to the bed. Then Vasya kept shrieking in +his arms, and he laid on the bed a lifeless corpse. He opened his eyes +and woke up; Vasya was sitting before him at the table, writing.</p> + +<p>Hardly able to believe his senses, Arkady glanced at the bed; Vasya +was not there. Arkady jumped up in a panic, still under the influence of +his dream. Vasya did not stir; he went on writing. All at once Arkady +noticed with horror that Vasya was moving a dry pen over the paper, was +turning over perfectly blank pages, and hurrying, hurrying to fill up +the paper as though he were doing his work in a most thorough and +efficient way. "No, this is not a trance," thought Arkady Ivanovitch, +and he trembled all over.</p> + +<p>"Vasya, Vasya, speak to me," he cried, clutching him by the shoulder. +But Vasya did not speak; he went on as before, scribbling with a dry pen +over the paper.</p> + +<p>"At last I have made the pen go faster," he said, without looking up +at Arkady.</p> + +<p>Arkady seized his hand and snatched away the pen.</p> + +<p>A moan broke from Vasya. He dropped his hand and raised his eyes to +Arkady; then with an air of misery and exhaustion he passed his hand +over his forehead as though he wanted to shake off some leaden weight +that was pressing upon his whole being, and slowly, as though lost in +thought, he let his head sink on his breast.</p> + +<p>"Vasya, Vasya!" cried Arkady in despair. "Vasya!"</p> + +<p>A minute later Vasya looked at him, tears stood in his large blue +eyes, and his pale, mild face wore a look of infinite suffering. He +whispered something.</p> + +<p>"What, what is it?" cried Arkady, bending down to him.</p> + +<p>"What for, why are they doing it to me?" whispered Vasya. "What for? +What have I done?"</p> + +<p>"Vasya, what is it? What are you afraid of? What is it?" cried +Arkady, wringing his hands in despair.</p> + +<p>"Why are they sending me for a soldier?" said Vasya, looking his +friend straight in the face. "Why is it? What have I done?"</p> + +<p>Arkady's hair stood on end with horror; he refused to believe his +ears. He stood over him, half dead.</p> + +<p>A minute later he pulled himself together. "It's nothing, it's only +for the minute," he said to himself, with pale face and blue, quivering +lips, and he hastened to put on his outdoor things. He meant to run +straight for a doctor. All at once Vasya called to him. Arkady rushed to +him and clasped him in his arms like a mother whose child is being torn +from her.</p> + +<p>"Arkady, Arkady, don't tell any one! Don't tell any one, do you hear? +It is my trouble, I must bear it alone."</p> + +<p>"What is it—what is it? Rouse yourself, Vasya, rouse +yourself!"</p> + +<p>Vasya sighed, and slow tears trickled down his cheeks.</p> + +<p>"Why kill her? How is she to blame?" he muttered in an agonized, +heartrending voice. "The sin is mine, the sin is mine!"</p> + +<p>He was silent for a moment.</p> + +<p>"Farewell, my love! Farewell, my love!" he whispered, shaking his +luckless head. Arkady started, pulled himself together and would have +rushed for the doctor. "Let us go, it is time," cried Vasya, carried +away by Arkady's last movement. "Let us go, brother, let us go; I am +ready. You lead the way." He paused and looked at Arkady with a downcast +and mistrustful face.</p> + +<p>"Vasya, for goodness' sake, don't follow me! Wait for me here. I will +come back to you directly, directly," said Arkady Ivanovitch, losing his +head and snatching up his cap to run for a doctor. Vasya sat down at +once, he was quiet and docile; but there was a gleam of some desperate +resolution in his eye. Arkady turned back, snatched up from the table an +open penknife, looked at the poor fellow for the last time, and ran out +of the flat.</p> + +<p>It was eight o'clock. It had been broad daylight for some time in the +room.</p> + +<p>He found no one. He was running about for a full hour. All the +doctors whose addresses he had got from the house porter when he +inquired of the latter whether there were no doctor living in the +building, had gone out, either to their work or on their private +affairs. There was one who saw patients. This one questioned at length +and in detail the servant who announced that Nefedevitch had called, +asking him who it was, from whom he came, what was the matter, and +concluded by saying that he could not go, that he had a great deal to +do, and that patients of that kind ought to be taken to a hospital.</p> + +<p>Then Arkady, exhausted, agitated, and utterly taken aback by this +turn of affairs, cursed all the doctors on earth, and rushed home in the +utmost alarm about Vasya. He ran into the flat. Mavra, as though there +were nothing the matter, went on scrubbing the floor, breaking up wood +and preparing to light the stove. He went into the room; there was no +trace of Vasya, he had gone out.</p> + +<p>"Which way? Where? Where will the poor fellow be off <ins +title="'too' in the original">to</ins>?" thought Arkady, frozen with +terror. He began questioning Mavra. She knew nothing, had neither seen +nor heard him go out, God bless him! Nefedevitch rushed off to the +Artemyevs'.</p> + +<p>It occurred to him for some reason that he must be there.</p> + +<p>It was ten o'clock by the time he arrived. They did not expect him, +knew nothing and had heard nothing. He stood before them frightened, +distressed, and asked where was Vasya? The mother's legs gave way under +her; she sank back on the sofa. Lizanka, trembling with alarm, began +asking what had happened. What could he say? Arkady Ivanovitch got out +of it as best he could, invented some tale which of course was not +believed, and fled, leaving them distressed and anxious. He flew to his +department that he might not be too late there, and he let them know +that steps might be taken at once. On the way it occurred to him that +Vasya would be at Yulian Mastakovitch's. That was more likely than +anything: Arkady had thought of that first of all, even before the +Artemyevs'. As he drove by His Excellency's door, he thought of +stopping, but at once told the driver to go straight on. He made up his +mind to try and find out whether anything had happened at the office, +and if he were not there to go to His Excellency, ostensibly to report +on Vasya. Some one must be informed of it.</p> + +<p>As soon as he got into the waiting-room he was surrounded by +fellow-clerks, for the most part young men of his own standing in the +service. With one voice they began asking him what had happened to +Vasya? At the same time they all told him that Vasya had gone out of his +mind, and thought that he was to be sent for a soldier as a punishment +for having neglected his work. Arkady Ivanovitch, answering them in all +directions, or rather avoiding giving a direct answer to any one, rushed +into the inner room. On the way he learned that Vasya was in Yulian +Mastakovitch's private room, that every one had been there and that +Esper Ivanovitch had gone in there too. He was stopped on the way. One +of the senior clerks asked him who he was and what he wanted? Without +distinguishing the person he said something about Vasya and went +straight into the room. He heard Yulian Mastakovitch's voice from +within. "Where are you going?" some one asked him at the very door. +Arkady Ivanovitch was almost in despair; he was on the point of turning +back, but through the open door he saw his poor Vasya. He pushed the +door and squeezed his way into the room. Every one seemed to be in +confusion and perplexity, because Yulian Mastakovitch was apparently +much chagrined. All the more important personages were standing about +him talking, and coming to no decision. At a little distance stood +Vasya. Arkady's heart sank when he looked at him. Vasya was standing, +pale, with his head up, stiffly erect, like a recruit before a new +officer, with his feet together and his hands held rigidly at his sides. +He was looking Yulian Mastakovitch straight in the face. Arkady was +noticed at once, and some one who knew that they lodged together +mentioned the fact to His Excellency. Arkady was led up to him. He tried +to make some answer to the questions put to him, glanced at Yulian +Mastakovitch and seeing on his face a look of genuine compassion, began +trembling and sobbing like a child. He even did more, he snatched His +Excellency's hand and held it to his eyes, wetting it with his tears, so +that Yulian Mastakovitch was obliged to draw it hastily away, and waving +it in the air, said, "Come, my dear fellow, come! I see you have a good +heart." Arkady sobbed and turned an imploring look on every one. It +seemed to him that they were all brothers of his dear Vasya, that they +were all worried and weeping about him. "How, how has it happened? how +has it happened?" asked Yulian Mastakovitch. "What has sent him out of +his mind?"</p> + +<p>"Gra—gra—gratitude!" was all Arkady Ivanovitch could +articulate.</p> + +<p>Every one heard his answer with amazement, and it seemed strange and +incredible to every one that a man could go out of his mind from +gratitude. Arkady explained as best he could.</p> + +<p>"Good Heavens! what a pity!" said Yulian Mastakovitch at last. "And +the work entrusted to him was not important, and not urgent in the +least. It was not worth while for a man to kill himself over it! Well, +take him away!"... At this point Yulian Mastakovitch turned to Arkady +Ivanovitch again, and began questioning him once more. "He begs," he +said, pointing to Vasya, "that some girl should not be told of this. Who +is she—his betrothed, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>Arkady began to explain. Meanwhile Vasya seemed to be thinking of +something, as though he were straining his memory to the utmost to +recall some important, necessary matter, which was particularly wanted +at this moment. From time to time he looked round with a distressed +face, as though hoping some one would remind him of what he had +forgotten. He fastened his eyes on Arkady. All of a sudden there was a +gleam of hope in his eyes; he moved with the left leg forward, took +three steps as smartly as he could, clicking with his right boot as +soldiers do when they move forward at the call from their officer. Every +one was waiting to see what would happen.</p> + +<p>"I have a physical defect and am small and weak, and I am not fit for +military service, Your Excellency," he said abruptly.</p> + +<p>At that every one in the room felt a pang at his heart, and firm as +was Yulian Mastakovitch's character, tears trickled from his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Take him away," he said, with a wave of his hands.</p> + +<p>"Present!" said Vasya in an undertone; he wheeled round to the left +and marched out of the room. All who were interested in his fate +followed him out. Arkady pushed his way out behind the others. They made +Vasya sit down in the waiting-room till the carriage came which had been +ordered to take him to the hospital. He sat down in silence and seemed +in great anxiety. He nodded to any one he recognized as though saying +good-bye. He looked round towards the door every minute, and prepared +himself to set off when he should be told it was time. People crowded in +a close circle round him; they were all shaking their heads and +lamenting. Many of them were much impressed by his story, which had +suddenly become known. Some discussed his illness, while others +expressed their pity and high opinion of Vasya, saying that he was such +a quiet, modest young man, that he had been so promising; people +described what efforts he had made to learn, how eager he was for +knowledge, how he had worked to educate himself. "He had risen by his +own efforts from a humble position," some one observed. They spoke with +emotion of His Excellency's affection for him. Some of them fell to +explaining why Vasya was possessed by the idea that he was being sent +for a soldier, because he had not finished his work. They said that the +poor fellow had so lately belonged to the class liable for military +service and had only received his first grade through the good offices +of Yulian Mastakovitch, who had had the cleverness to discover his +talent, his docility, and the rare mildness of his disposition. In fact, +there was a great number of views and theories.</p> + +<p>A very short fellow-clerk of Vasya's was conspicuous as being +particularly distressed. He was not very young, probably about thirty. +He was pale as a sheet, trembling all over and smiling queerly, perhaps +because any scandalous affair or terrible scene both frightens, and at +the same time somewhat rejoices the outside spectator. He kept running +round the circle that surrounded Vasya, and as he was so short, stood on +tiptoe and caught at the button of every one—that is, of those +with whom he felt entitled to take such a liberty—and kept saying +that he knew how it had all happened, that it was not so simple, but a +very important matter, that it couldn't be left without further inquiry; +then stood on tiptoe again, whispered in some one's ear, nodded his head +again two or three times, and ran round again. At last everything was +over. The porter made his appearance, and an attendant from the hospital +went up to Vasya and told him it was time to start. Vasya jumped up in a +flutter and went with them, looking about him. He was looking about for +some one.</p> + +<p>"Vasya, Vasya!" cried Arkady Ivanovitch, sobbing. Vasya stopped, and +Arkady squeezed his way up to him. They flung themselves into each +other's arms in a last bitter embrace. It was sad to see them. What +monstrous calamity was wringing the tears from their eyes! What were +they weeping for? What was their trouble? Why did they not understand +one another?</p> + +<p>"Here, here, take it! Take care of it," said Shumkov, thrusting a +paper of some kind into Arkady's hand. "They will take it away from me. +Bring it me later on; bring it ... take care of it...." Vasya could not +finish, they called to him. He ran hurriedly downstairs, nodding to +every one, saying good-bye to every one. There was despair in his face. +At last he was put in the carriage and taken away. Arkady made haste to +open the paper: it was Liza's curl of black hair, from which Vasya had +never parted. Hot tears gushed from Arkady's eyes: oh, poor Liza!</p> + +<p>When office hours were over, he went to the Artemyevs'. There is no +need to describe what happened there! Even Petya, little Petya, though +he could not quite understand what had happened to dear Vasya, went into +a corner, hid his face in his little hands, and sobbed in the fullness +of his childish heart. It was quite dusk when Arkady returned home. When +he reached the Neva he stood still for a minute and turned a keen glance +up the river into the smoky frozen thickness of the distance, which was +suddenly flushed crimson with the last purple and blood-red glow of +sunset, still smouldering on the misty horizon.... Night lay over the +city, and the wide plain of the Neva, swollen with frozen snow, was +shining in the last gleams of the sun with myriads of sparks of gleaming +hoar frost. There was a frost of twenty degrees. A cloud of frozen steam +hung about the overdriven horses and the hurrying people. The condensed +atmosphere quivered at the slightest sound, and from all the roofs on +both sides of the river, columns of smoke rose up like giants and +floated across the cold sky, intertwining and untwining as they went, so +that it seemed new buildings were rising up above the old, a new town +was taking shape in the air.... It seemed as if all that world, with all +its inhabitants, strong and weak, with all their habitations, the +refuges of the poor, or the gilded palaces for the comfort of the +powerful of this world was at that twilight hour like a fantastic vision +of fairy-land, like a dream which in its turn would vanish and pass away +like vapour into the dark blue sky. A strange thought came to poor +Vasya's forlorn friend. He started, and his heart seemed at that instant +flooded with a hot rush of blood kindled by a powerful, overwhelming +sensation he had never known before. He seemed only now to understand +all the trouble, and to know why his poor Vasya had gone out of his +mind, unable to bear his happiness. His lips twitched, his eyes lighted +up, he turned pale, and as it were had a clear vision into something +new.</p> + +<p>He became gloomy and depressed, and lost all his gaiety. His old +lodging grew hateful to him—he took a new room. He did not care to +visit the Artemyevs, and indeed he could not. Two years later he met +Lizanka in church. She was by then married; beside her walked a wet +nurse with a tiny baby. They greeted each other, and for a long time +avoided all mention of the past. Liza said that, thank God, she was +happy, that she was not badly off, that her husband was a kind man and +that she was fond of him.... But suddenly in the middle of a sentence +her eyes filled with tears, her voice failed, she turned away, and bowed +down to the church pavement to hide her grief.</p> + +<p class="p4 center"><a name="Pg200">A CHRISTMAS TREE AND A +WEDDING</a></p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">a story</span></p> + +<p class="p2">The other day I saw a wedding ... but no, I had better +tell you about the Christmas tree. The wedding was nice, I liked it very +much; but the other incident was better. I don't know how it was that, +looking at that wedding, I thought of that Christmas tree. This was what +happened. Just five years ago, on New Year's Eve, I was invited to a +children's party. The giver of the party was a well-known and +business-like personage, with connections, with a large circle of +acquaintances, and a good many schemes on hand, so that it may be +supposed that this party was an excuse for getting the parents together +and discussing various interesting matters in an innocent, casual way. I +was an outsider; I had no interesting matter to contribute, and so I +spent the evening rather independently. There was another gentleman +present who was, I fancied, of no special rank or family, and who, like +me, had simply turned up at this family festivity. He was the first to +catch my eye. He was a tall, lanky man, very grave and very correctly +dressed. But one could see that he was in no mood for merrymaking and +family festivity; whenever he withdrew into a corner he left off smiling +and knitted his bushy black brows. He had not a single acquaintance in +the party except his host. One could see that he was fearfully bored, +but that he was valiantly keeping up the part of a man perfectly happy +and enjoying himself. I learned afterwards that this was a gentleman +from the provinces, who had a critical and perplexing piece of business +in Petersburg, who had brought a letter of introduction to our host, for +whom our host was, by no means <i>con amore</i>, using his interest, and +whom he had invited, out of civility, to his children's party. He did +not play cards, cigars were not offered him, every one avoided entering +into conversation with him, most likely recognizing the bird from its +feathers; and so my gentleman was forced to sit the whole evening +stroking his whiskers simply to have something to do with his hands. His +whiskers were certainly very fine. But he stroked them so zealously +that, looking at him, one might have supposed that the whiskers were +created first and the gentleman only attached to them in order to stroke +them.</p> + +<p>In addition to this individual who assisted in this way at our host's +family festivity (he had five fat, well-fed boys), I was attracted, too, +by another gentleman. But he was quite of a different sort. He was a +personage. He was called Yulian Mastakovitch. From the first glance one +could see that he was an honoured guest, and stood in the same relation +to our host as our host stood in relation to the gentleman who was +stroking his whiskers. Our host and hostess said no end of polite things +to him, waited on him hand and foot, pressed him to drink, flattered +him, brought their visitors up to be introduced to him, but did not take +him to be introduced to any one else. I noticed that tears glistened in +our host's eyes when he remarked about the party that he had rarely +spent an evening so agreeably. I felt as it were frightened in the +presence of such a personage, and so, after admiring the children, I +went away into a little parlour, which was quite empty, and sat down in +an arbour of flowers which filled up almost half the room.</p> + +<p>The children were all incredibly sweet, and resolutely refused to +model themselves on the "grown-ups," regardless of all the admonitions +of their governesses and mammas. They stripped the Christmas tree to the +last sweetmeat in the twinkling of an eye, and had succeeded in breaking +half the playthings before they knew what was destined for which. +Particularly charming was a black-eyed, curly-headed boy, who kept +trying to shoot me with his wooden gun. But my attention was still more +attracted by his sister, a girl of eleven, quiet, dreamy, pale, with +big, prominent, dreamy eyes, exquisite as a little Cupid. The children +hurt her feelings in some way, and so she came away from them to the +same empty parlour in which I was sitting, and played with her doll in +the corner. The visitors respectfully pointed out her father, a wealthy +contractor, and some one whispered that three hundred thousand roubles +were already set aside for her dowry. I turned round to glance at the +group who were interested in such a circumstance, and my eye fell on +Yulian Mastakovitch, who, with his hands behind his back and his head on +one side, was listening with the greatest attention to these gentlemen's +idle gossip. Afterwards I could not help admiring the discrimination of +the host and hostess in the distribution of the children's presents. The +little girl, who had already a portion of three hundred thousand +roubles, received the costliest doll. Then followed presents diminishing +in value in accordance with the rank of the parents of these happy +children; finally, the child of lowest degree, a thin, freckled, +red-haired little boy of ten, got nothing but a book of stories about +the marvels of nature and tears of devotion, etc., without pictures or +even woodcuts. He was the son of a poor widow, the governess of the +children of the house, an oppressed and scared little boy. He was +dressed in a short jacket of inferior nankin. After receiving his book +he walked round the other toys for a long time; he longed to play with +the other children, but did not dare; it was evident that he already +felt and understood his position. I love watching children. Their first +independent approaches to life are extremely interesting. I noticed that +the red-haired boy was so fascinated by the costly toys of the other +children, especially by a theatre in which he certainly longed to take +some part, that he made up his mind to sacrifice his dignity. He smiled +and began playing with the other children, he gave away his apple to a +fat-faced little boy who had a mass of goodies tied up in a +pocket-handkerchief already, and even brought himself to carry another +boy on his back, simply not to be turned away from the theatre, but an +insolent youth gave him a heavy thump a minute later. The child did not +dare to cry. Then the governess, his mother, made her appearance, and +told him not to interfere with the other children's playing. The boy +went away to the same room in which was the little girl. She let him +join her, and the two set to work very eagerly dressing the expensive +doll.</p> + +<p>I had been sitting more than half an hour in the ivy arbour, +listening to the little prattle of the red-haired boy and the beauty +with the dowry of three hundred thousand, who was nursing her doll, when +Yulian Mastakovitch suddenly walked into the room. He had taken +advantage of the general commotion following a quarrel among the +children to step out of the drawing-room. I had noticed him a moment +before talking very cordially to the future heiress's papa, whose +acquaintance he had just made, of the superiority of one branch of the +service over another. Now he stood in hesitation and seemed to be +reckoning something on his fingers.</p> + +<p>"Three hundred ... three hundred," he was whispering. "Eleven ... +twelve ... thirteen," and so on. "Sixteen—five years! Supposing it +is at four per cent.—five times twelve is sixty; yes, to that +sixty ... well, in five years we may assume it will be four hundred. +Yes!... But he won't stick to four per cent., the rascal. He can get +eight or ten. Well, five hundred, let us say, five hundred at least ... +that's certain; well, say a little more for frills. H'm!..."</p> + +<p>His hesitation was at an end, he blew his nose and was on the point +of going out of the room when he suddenly glanced at the little girl and +stopped short. He did not see me behind the pots of greenery. It seemed +to me that he was greatly excited. Either his calculations had affected +his imagination or something else, for he rubbed his hands and could +hardly stand still. This excitement reached its utmost limit when he +stopped and bent another resolute glance at the future heiress. He was +about to move forward, but first looked round, then moving on tiptoe, as +though he felt guilty, he advanced towards the children. He approached +with a little smile, bent down and kissed her on the head. The child, +not expecting this attack, uttered a cry of alarm.</p> + +<p>"What are you doing here, sweet child?" he asked in a whisper, +looking round and patting the girl's cheek.</p> + +<p>"We are playing."</p> + +<p>"Ah! With him?" Yulian Mastakovitch looked askance at the boy. "You +had better go into the drawing-room, my dear," he said to him.</p> + +<p>The boy looked at him open-eyed and did not utter a word. Yulian +Mastakovitch looked round him again, and again bent down to the little +girl.</p> + +<p>"And what is this you've got—a dolly, dear child?" he +asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes, a dolly," answered the child, frowning, and a little shy.</p> + +<p>"A dolly ... and do you know, dear child, what your dolly is made +of?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know ..." the child answered in a whisper, hanging her +head.</p> + +<p>"It's made of rags, darling. You had better go into the drawing-room +to your playmates, boy," said Yulian Mastakovitch, looking sternly at +the boy. The boy and girl frowned and clutched at each other. They did +not want to be separated.</p> + +<p>"And do you know why they gave you that doll?" asked Yulian +Mastakovitch, dropping his voice to a softer and softer tone.</p> + +<p>"I don't know."</p> + +<p>"Because you have been a sweet and well-behaved child all the +week."</p> + +<p>At this point Yulian Mastakovitch, more excited than ever, speaking +in most dulcet tones, asked at last, in a hardly audible voice choked +with emotion and impatience—</p> + +<p>"And will you love me, dear little girl, when I come and see your +papa and mamma?"</p> + +<p>Saying this, Yulian Mastakovitch tried once more to kiss "the dear +little girl," but the red-haired boy, seeing that the little girl was on +the point of tears, clutched her hand and began whimpering from sympathy +for her. Yulian Mastakovitch was angry in earnest.</p> + +<p>"Go away, go away from here, go away!" he said to the boy. "Go into +the drawing-room! Go in there to your playmates!"</p> + +<p>"No, he needn't, he needn't! You go away," said the little girl. +"Leave him alone, leave him alone," she said, almost crying.</p> + +<p>Some one made a sound at the door. Yulian Mastakovitch instantly +raised his majestic person and took alarm. But the red-haired boy was +even more alarmed than Yulian Mastakovitch; he abandoned the little girl +and, slinking along by the wall, stole out of the parlour into the +dining-room. To avoid arousing suspicion, Yulian Mastakovitch, too, went +into the dining-room. He was as red as a lobster, and, glancing into the +looking-glass, seemed to be ashamed at himself. He was perhaps vexed +with himself for his impetuosity and hastiness. Possibly, he was at +first so much impressed by his calculations, so inspired and fascinated +by them, that in spite of his seriousness and dignity he made up his +mind to behave like a boy, and directly approach the object of his +attentions, even though she could not be really the object of his +attentions for another five years at least. I followed the estimable +gentleman into the dining-room and there beheld a strange spectacle. +Yulian Mastakovitch, flushed with vexation and anger, was frightening +the red-haired boy, who, retreating from him, did not know where to run +in his terror.</p> + +<p>"Go away; what are you doing here? Go away, you scamp; are you after +the fruit here, eh? Get along, you naughty boy! Get along, you +sniveller, to your playmates!"</p> + +<p>The panic-stricken boy in his desperation tried creeping under the +table. Then his persecutor, in a fury, took out his large batiste +handkerchief and began flicking it under the table at the child, who +kept perfectly quiet. It must be observed that Yulian Mastakovitch was a +little inclined to be fat. He was a sleek, red-faced, solidly built man, +paunchy, with thick legs; what is called a fine figure of a man, round +as a nut. He was perspiring, breathless, and fearfully flushed. At last +he was almost rigid, so great was his indignation and perhaps—who +knows?—his jealousy. I burst into loud laughter. Yulian +Mastakovitch turned round and, in spite of all his consequence, was +overcome with confusion. At that moment from the opposite door our host +came in. The boy crept out from under the table and wiped his elbows and +his knees. Yulian Mastakovitch hastened to put to his nose the +handkerchief which he was holding in his hand by one end.</p> + +<p>Our host looked at the three of us in some perplexity; but as a man +who knew something of life, and looked at it from a serious point of +view, he at once availed himself of the chance of catching his visitor +by himself.</p> + +<p>"Here, this is the boy," he said, pointing to the red-haired boy, +"for whom I had the honour to solicit your influence."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" said Yulian Mastakovitch, who had hardly quite recovered +himself.</p> + +<p>"The son of my children's governess," said our host, in a tone of a +petitioner, "a poor woman, the widow of an honest civil servant; and +therefore ... and therefore, Yulian Mastakovitch, if it were possible +..."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, no!" Yulian Mastakovitch made haste to answer; "no, excuse +me, Filip Alexyevitch, it's quite impossible. I've made inquiries; +there's no vacancy, and if there were, there are twenty applicants who +have far more claim than he.... I am very sorry, very sorry...."</p> + +<p>"What a pity," said our host. "He is a quiet, well-behaved boy."</p> + +<p>"A great rascal, as I notice," answered Yulian Mastakovitch, with a +nervous twist of his lip. "Get along, boy; why are you standing there? +Go to your playmates," he said, addressing the child.</p> + +<p>At that point he could not contain himself, and glanced at me out of +one eye. I, too, could not contain myself, and laughed straight in his +face. Yulian Mastakovitch turned away at once, and in a voice calculated +to reach my ear, asked who was that strange young man? They whispered +together and walked out of the room. I saw Yulian Mastakovitch +afterwards shaking his head incredulously as our host talked to him.</p> + +<p>After laughing to my heart's content I returned to the drawing-room. +There the great man, surrounded by fathers and mothers of families, +including the host and hostess, was saying something very warmly to a +lady to whom he had just been introduced. The lady was holding by the +hand the little girl with whom Yulian Mastakovitch had had the scene in +the parlour a little while before. Now he was launching into praises and +raptures over the beauty, the talents, the grace and the charming +manners of the charming child. He was unmistakably making up to the +mamma. The mother listened to him almost with tears of delight. The +father's lips were smiling. Our host was delighted at the general +satisfaction. All the guests, in fact, were sympathetically gratified; +even the children's games were checked that they might not hinder the +conversation: the whole atmosphere was saturated with reverence. I heard +afterwards the mamma of the interesting child, deeply touched, beg +Yulian Mastakovitch, in carefully chosen phrases, to do her the special +honour of bestowing upon them the precious gift of his acquaintance, and +heard with what unaffected delight Yulian Mastakovitch accepted the +invitation, and how afterwards the guests, dispersing in different +directions, moving away with the greatest propriety, poured out to one +another the most touchingly flattering comments upon the contractor, his +wife, his little girl, and, above all, upon Yulian Mastakovitch.</p> + +<p>"Is that gentleman married?" I asked, almost aloud, of one of my +acquaintances, who was standing nearest to Yulian Mastakovitch. Yulian +Mastakovitch flung a searching and vindictive glance at me.</p> + +<p>"No!" answered my acquaintance, chagrined to the bottom of his heart +by the awkwardness of which I had intentionally been guilty....</p> + +<p class="center">* * * * *</p> + +<p>I passed lately by a certain church; I was struck by the crowd of +people in carriages. I heard people talking of the wedding. It was a +cloudy day, it was beginning to sleet. I made my way through the crowd +at the door and saw the bridegroom. He was a sleek, well-fed, round, +paunchy man, very gorgeously dressed up. He was running fussily about, +giving orders. At last the news passed through the crowd that the bride +was coming. I squeezed my way through the crowd and saw a marvellous +beauty, who could scarcely have reached her first season. But the beauty +was pale and melancholy. She looked preoccupied; I even fancied that her +eyes were red with recent weeping. The classic severity of every feature +of her face gave a certain dignity and seriousness to her beauty. But +through that sternness and dignity, through that melancholy, could be +seen the look of childish innocence; something indescribably naïve, +fluid, youthful, which seemed mutely begging for mercy.</p> + +<p>People were saying that she was only just sixteen. Glancing +attentively at the bridegroom, I suddenly recognized him as Yulian +Mastakovitch, whom I had not seen for five years. I looked at her. My +God! I began to squeeze my way as quickly as I could out of the church. +I heard people saying in the crowd that the bride was an heiress, that +she had a dowry of five hundred thousand ... and a trousseau worth ever +so much.</p> + +<p>"It was a good stroke of business, though!" I thought as I made my +way into the street.</p> + +<p class="p4 center"><a name="Pg208">POLZUNKOV</a></p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">a story</span></p> + +<p class="p2">I began to scrutinize the man closely. Even in his +exterior there was something so peculiar that it compelled one, however +far away one's thoughts might be, to fix one's eyes upon him and go off +into the most irrepressible roar of laughter. That is what happened to +me. I must observe that the little man's eyes were so mobile, or perhaps +he was so sensitive to the magnetism of every eye fixed upon him, that +he almost by instinct guessed that he was being observed, turned at once +to the observer and anxiously analysed his expression. His continual +mobility, his turning and twisting, made him look strikingly like a +dancing doll. It was strange! He seemed afraid of jeers, in spite of the +fact that he was almost getting his living by being a buffoon for all +the world, and exposed himself to every buffet in a moral sense and even +in a physical one, judging from the company he was in. Voluntary +buffoons are not even to be pitied. But I noticed at once that this +strange creature, this ridiculous man, was by no means a buffoon by +profession. There was still something gentlemanly in him. His very +uneasiness, his continual apprehensiveness about himself, were actually +a testimony in his favour. It seemed to me that his desire to be +obliging was due more to kindness of heart than to mercenary +considerations. He readily allowed them to laugh their loudest at him +and in the most unseemly way, to his face, but at the same +time—and I am ready to take my oath on it—his heart ached +and was sore at the thought that his listeners were so caddishly brutal +as to be capable of laughing, not at anything said or done, but at him, +at his whole being, at his heart, at his head, at his appearance, at his +whole body, flesh and blood. I am convinced that he felt at that moment +all the foolishness of his position; but the protest died away in his +heart at once, though it invariably sprang up again in the most heroic +way. I am convinced that all this was due to nothing else but a kind +heart, and not to fear of the inconvenience of being kicked out and +being unable to borrow money from some one. This gentleman was for ever +borrowing money, that is, he asked for alms in that form, when after +playing the fool and entertaining them at his expense he felt in a +certain sense entitled to borrow money from them. But, good heavens! +what a business the borrowing was! And with what a countenance he asked +for the loan! I could not have imagined that on such a small space as +the wrinkled, angular face of that little man room could be found, at +one and the same time, for so many different grimaces, for such strange, +variously characteristic shades of feeling, such absolutely killing +expressions. Everything was there—shame and an assumption of +insolence, and vexation at the sudden flushing of his face, and anger +and fear of failure, and entreaty to be forgiven for having dared to +pester, and a sense of his own dignity, and a still greater sense of his +own abjectness—all this passed over his face like lightning. For +six whole years he had struggled along in God's world in this way, and +so far had been unable to take up a fitting attitude at the interesting +moment of borrowing money! I need not say that he never could grow +callous and completely abject. His heart was too sensitive, too +passionate! I will say more, indeed: in my opinion, he was one of the +most honest and honourable men in the world, but with a little weakness: +of being ready to do anything abject at any one's bidding, +good-naturedly and disinterestedly, simply to oblige a fellow-creature. +In short, he was what is called "a rag" in the fullest sense of the +word. The most absurd thing was, that he was dressed like any one else, +neither worse nor better, tidily, even with a certain elaborateness, and +actually had pretentions to respectability and personal dignity. This +external equality and internal inequality, his uneasiness about himself +and at the same time his continual self-depreciation—all this was +strikingly incongruous and provocative of laughter and pity. If he had +been convinced in his heart (and in spite of his experience it did +happen to him at moments to believe this) that his audience were the +most good-natured people in the world, who were simply laughing at +something amusing, and not at the sacrifice of his personal dignity, he +would most readily have taken off his coat, put it on wrong side +outwards, and have walked about the streets in that attire for the +diversion of others and his own gratification. But equality he could +never anyhow attain. Another trait: the queer fellow was proud, and +even, by fits and starts, when it was not too risky, generous. It was +worth seeing and hearing how he could sometimes, not sparing himself, +consequently with pluck, almost with heroism, dispose of one of his +patrons who had infuriated him to madness. But that was at moments.... +In short, he was a martyr in the fullest sense of the word, but the most +useless and consequently the most comic martyr.</p> + +<p>There was a general discussion going on among the guests. All at once +I saw our queer friend jump upon his chair, and call out at the top of +his voice, anxious for the exclusive attention of the company.</p> + +<p>"Listen," the master of the house whispered to me. "He sometimes +tells the most curious stories.... Does he interest you?"</p> + +<p>I nodded and squeezed myself into the group. The sight of a +well-dressed gentleman jumping upon his chair and shouting at the top of +his voice did, in fact, draw the attention of all. Many who did not know +the queer fellow looked at one another in perplexity, the others roared +with laughter.</p> + +<p>"I knew Fedosey Nikolaitch. I ought to know Fedosey Nikolaitch better +than any one!" cried the queer fellow from his elevation. "Gentlemen, +allow me to tell you something. I can tell you a good story about +Fedosey Nikolaitch! I know a story—exquisite!"</p> + +<p>"Tell it, Osip Mihalitch, tell it."</p> + +<p>"Tell it."</p> + +<p>"Listen."</p> + +<p>"Listen, listen."</p> + +<p>"I begin; but, gentlemen, this is a peculiar story...."</p> + +<p>"Very good, very good."</p> + +<p>"It's a comic story."</p> + +<p>"Very good, excellent, splendid. Get on!"</p> + +<p>"It is an episode in the private life of your humble...."</p> + +<p>"But why do you trouble yourself to announce that it's comic?"</p> + +<p>"And even somewhat tragic!"</p> + +<p>"Eh???!"</p> + +<p>"In short, the story which it will afford you all pleasure to hear me +now relate, gentlemen—the story, in consequence of which I have +come into company so interesting and profitable...."</p> + +<p>"No puns!"</p> + +<p>"This story."</p> + +<p>"In short the story—make haste and finish the introduction. The +story, which has its value," a fair-haired young man with moustaches +pronounced in a husky voice, dropping his hand into his coat pocket and, +as though by chance, pulling out a purse instead of his +handkerchief.</p> + +<p>"The story, my dear sirs, after which I should like to see many of +you in my place. And, finally, the story, in consequence of which I have +not married."</p> + +<p>"Married! A wife! Polzunkov tried to get married!!"</p> + +<p>"I confess I should like to see Madame Polzunkov."</p> + +<p>"Allow me to inquire the name of the would-be Madame Polzunkov," +piped a youth, making his way up to the storyteller.</p> + +<p>"And so for the first chapter, gentlemen. It was just six years ago, +in spring, the thirty-first of March—note the date, +gentlemen—on the eve...."</p> + +<p>"Of the first of April!" cried a young man with ringlets.</p> + +<p>"You are extraordinarily quick at guessing. It was evening. Twilight +was gathering over the district town of N., the moon was about to float +out ... everything in proper style, in fact. And so in the very late +twilight I, too, floated out of my poor lodging on the sly—after +taking leave of my restricted granny, now dead. Excuse me, gentlemen, +for making use of such a fashionable expression, which I heard for the +last time from Nikolay Nikolaitch. But my granny was indeed restricted: +she was blind, dumb, deaf, stupid—everything you please.... I +confess I was in a tremor, I was prepared for great deeds; my heart was +beating like a kitten's when some bony hand clutches it by the scruff of +the neck."</p> + +<p>"Excuse me, Monsieur Polzunkov."</p> + +<p>"What do you want?"</p> + +<p>"Tell it more simply; don't over-exert yourself, please!"</p> + +<p>"All right," said Osip Mihalitch, a little taken aback. "I went into +the house of Fedosey Nikolaitch (the house that he had bought). Fedosey +Nikolaitch, as you know, is not a mere colleague, but the full-blown +head of a department. I was announced, and was at once shown into the +study. I can see it now; the room was dark, almost dark, but candles +were not brought. Behold, Fedosey Nikolaitch walks in. There he and I +were left in the darkness...."</p> + +<p>"Whatever happened to you?" asked an officer.</p> + +<p>"What do you suppose?" asked Polzunkov, turning promptly, with a +convulsively working face, to the young man with ringlets. "Well, +gentlemen, a strange circumstance occurred, though indeed there was +nothing strange in it: it was what is called an everyday affair—I +simply took out of my pocket a roll of paper ... and he a roll of +paper."</p> + +<p>"Paper notes?"</p> + +<p>"Paper notes; and we exchanged."</p> + +<p>"I don't mind betting that there's a flavour of bribery about it," +observed a respectably dressed, closely cropped young gentleman.</p> + +<p>"Bribery!" Polzunkov caught him up.</p> + +<p class="poem"> +<span class="i2b">"'Oh, may I be a Liberal,</span> +<span class="i2">Such as many I have seen!'</span> +</p> + +<p>If you, too, when it is your lot to serve in the provinces, do not +warm your hands at your country's hearth.... For as an author said: +'Even the smoke of our native land is sweet to us.' She is our Mother, +gentlemen, our Mother Russia; we are her babes, and so we suck her!"</p> + +<p>There was a roar of laughter.</p> + +<p>"Only would you believe it, gentlemen, I have never taken bribes?" +said Polzunkov, looking round at the whole company distrustfully.</p> + +<p>A prolonged burst of Homeric laughter drowned Polzunkov's words in +guffaws.</p> + +<p>"It really is so, gentlemen...."</p> + +<p>But here he stopped, still looking round at every one with a strange +expression of face; perhaps—who knows?—at that moment the +thought came into his mind that he was more honest than many of all that +honourable company.... Anyway, the serious expression of his face did +not pass away till the general merriment was quite over.</p> + +<p>"And so," Polzunkov began again when all was still, "though I never +did take bribes, yet that time I transgressed; I put in my pocket a +bribe ... from a bribe-taker ... that is, there were certain papers in +my hands which, if I had cared to send to a certain person, it would +have gone ill with Fedosey Nikolaitch."</p> + +<p>"So then he bought them from you?"</p> + +<p>"He did."</p> + +<p>"Did he give much?"</p> + +<p>"He gave as much as many a man nowadays would sell his conscience for +complete, with all its variations ... if only he could get anything for +it. But I felt as though I were scalded when I put the money in my +pocket. I really don't understand what always comes over me, +gentlemen—but I was more dead than alive, my lips twitched and my +legs trembled; well, I was to blame, to blame, entirely to blame. I was +utterly conscience-stricken; I was ready to beg Fedosey Nikolaitch's +forgiveness."</p> + +<p>"Well, what did he do—did he forgive you?"</p> + +<p>"But I didn't ask his forgiveness.... I only mean that that is how I +felt. Then I have a sensitive heart, you know. I saw he was looking me +straight in the face. 'Have you no fear of God, Osip Mihailitch?' said +he. Well, what could I do? From a feeling of propriety I put my head on +one side and I flung up my hands. 'In what way,' said I, 'have I no fear +of God, Fedosey Nikolaitch?' But I just said that from a feeling of +propriety.... I was ready to sink into the earth. 'After being so long a +friend of our family, after being, I may say, like a son—and who +knows what Heaven had in store for us, Osip Mihailitch?—and all of +a sudden to inform against me—to think of that now!... What am I +to think of mankind after that, Osip Mihailitch?' Yes, gentlemen, he did +read me a lecture! 'Come,' he said, 'you tell me what I am to think of +mankind after that, Osip Mihailitch.' 'What is he to think?' I thought; +and do you know, there was a lump in my throat, and my voice was +quivering, and knowing my hateful weakness, I snatched up my hat. 'Where +are you off to, Osip Mihailitch? Surely on the eve of such a day you +cannot bear malice against me? What wrong have I done you?...' 'Fedosey +Nikolaitch,' I said, 'Fedosey Nikolaitch....' In fact, I melted, +gentlemen, I melted like a sugar-stick. And the roll of notes that was +lying in my pocket, that, too, seemed screaming out: 'You ungrateful +brigand, you accursed thief!' It seemed to weigh a hundredweight ... (if +only it had weighed a hundredweight!).... 'I see,' says Fedosey +Nikolaitch, 'I see your penitence ... you know to-morrow....' 'St. Mary +of Egypt's day....' 'Well, don't weep,' said Fedosey Nikolaitch, 'that's +enough: you've erred, and you are penitent! Come along! Maybe I may +succeed in bringing you back again into the true path,' says he ... +'maybe, my modest Penates' (yes,'Penates,' I remember he used that +expression, the rascal) 'will warm,' says he, 'your harden ... I will +not say hardened, but erring heart....' He took me by the arm, +gentlemen, and led me to his family circle. A cold shiver ran down my +back; I shuddered! I thought with what eyes shall I present +myself—you must know, gentlemen ... eh, what shall I say?—a +delicate position had arisen here."</p> + +<p>"Not Madame Polzunkov?"</p> + +<p>"Marya Fedosyevna, only she was not destined, you know, to bear the +name you have given her; she did not attain that honour. Fedosey +Nikolaitch was right, you see, when he said that I was almost looked +upon as a son in the house; it had been so, indeed, six months before, +when a certain retired junker called Mihailo Maximitch Dvigailov, was +still living. But by God's will he died, and he put off settling his +affairs till death settled his business for him."</p> + +<p>"Ough!"</p> + +<p>"Well, never mind, gentlemen, forgive me, it was a slip of the +tongue. It's a bad pun, but it doesn't matter it's being bad—what +happened was far worse, when I was left, so to say, with nothing in +prospect but a bullet through the brain, for that junker, though he +would not admit me into his house (he lived in grand style, for he had +always known how to feather his nest), yet perhaps correctly he believed +me to be his son."</p> + +<p>"Aha!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, that was how it was! So they began to cold-shoulder me at +Fedosey Nikolaitch's. I noticed things, I kept quiet; but all at once, +unluckily for me (or perhaps luckily!), a cavalry officer galloped into +our little town like snow on our head. His business—buying horses +for the army—was light and active, in cavalry style, but he +settled himself solidly at Fedosey Nikolaitch's, as though he were +laying siege to it! I approached the subject in a roundabout way, as my +nasty habit is; I said one thing and another, asking him what I had done +to be treated so, saying that I was almost like a son to him, and when +might I expect him to behave more like a father.... Well, he began +answering me. And when he begins to speak you are in for a regular epic +in twelve cantos, and all you can do is to listen, lick your lips and +throw up your hands in delight. And not a ha'p'orth of sense, at least +there's no making out the sense. You stand puzzled like a fool—he +puts you in a fog, he twists about like an eel and wriggles away from +you. It's a special gift, a real gift—it's enough to frighten +people even if it is no concern of theirs. I tried one thing and +another, and went hither and thither. I took the lady songs and +presented her with sweets and thought of witty things to say to her. I +tried sighing and groaning. 'My heart aches,' I said, 'it aches from +love.' And I went in for tears and secret explanations. Man is foolish, +you know.... I never reminded myself that I was thirty ... not a bit of +it! I tried all my arts. It was no go. It was a failure, and I gained +nothing but jeers and gibes. I was indignant, I was choking with anger. +I slunk off and would not set foot in the house. I thought and thought +and made up my mind to denounce him. Well, of course, it was a shabby +thing—I meant to give away a friend, I confess. I had heaps of +material and splendid material—a grand case. It brought me fifteen +hundred roubles when I changed it and my report on it for bank +notes!"</p> + +<p>"Ah, so that was the bribe!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, that was the bribe—and it was a bribe-taker who had +to pay it—and I didn't do wrong, I can assure you! Well, now I +will go on: he drew me, if you will kindly remember, more dead than +alive into the room where they were having tea. They all met me, seeming +as it were offended, that is, not exactly offended, but hurt—so +hurt that it was simply.... They seemed shattered, absolutely shattered, +and at the same time there was a look of becoming dignity on their +faces, a gravity in their expression, something fatherly, parental ... +the prodigal son had come back to them—that's what it had come to! +They made me sit down to tea, but there was no need to do that: I felt +as though a samovar was toiling in my bosom and my feet were like ice. I +was humbled, I was cowed. Marya Fominishna, his wife, addressed me +familiarly from the first word.</p> + +<p>"'How is it you have grown so thin, my boy?'</p> + +<p>"'I've not been very well, Marya Fominishna,' I said. My wretched +voice shook.</p> + +<p>"And then quite suddenly—she must have been waiting for a +chance to get a dig at me, the old snake—she said—</p> + +<p>"'I suppose your conscience felt ill at ease, Osip Mihalitch, my +dear! Our fatherly hospitality was a reproach to you! You have been +punished for the tears I have shed.'</p> + +<p>"Yes, upon my word, she really said that—she had the conscience +to say it. Why, that was nothing to her, she was a terror! She did +nothing but sit there and pour out tea. But if you were in the market, +my darling, I thought you'd shout louder than any fishwife there.... +That's the kind of woman she was. And then, to my undoing, the daughter, +Marya Fedosyevna, came in, in all her innocence, a little pale and her +eyes red as though she had been weeping. I was bowled over on the spot +like a fool. But it turned out afterwards that the tears were a tribute +to the cavalry officer. He had made tracks for home and taken his hook +for good and all; for you know it was high time for him to be +off—I may as well mention the fact here; not that his leave was up +precisely, but you see.... It was only later that the loving parents +grasped the position and had found out all that had happened.... What +could they do? They hushed their trouble up—an addition to the +family!</p> + +<p>"Well, I could not help it—as soon as I looked at her I was +done for; I stole a glance at my hat, I wanted to get up and make off. +But there was no chance of that, they took away my hat.... I must +confess, I did think of getting off without it. 'Well!' I +thought—but no, they latched the doors. There followed friendly +jokes, winking, little airs and graces. I was overcome with +embarrassment, said something stupid, talked nonsense, about love. My +charmer sat down to the piano and with an air of wounded feeling sang +the song about the hussar who leaned upon the sword—that finished +me off!</p> + +<p>"'Well,' said Fedosey Nikolaitch, 'all is forgotten, come to my +arms!'</p> + +<p>"I fell just as I was, with my face on his waistcoat.</p> + +<p>"'My benefactor! You are a father to me!' said I. And I shed floods +of hot tears. Lord, have mercy on us, what a to-do there was! He cried, +his good lady cried, Mashenka cried ... there was a flaxen-headed +creature there, she cried too.... That wasn't enough: the younger +children crept out of all the corners (the Lord had filled their quiver +full) and they howled too.... Such tears, such emotion, such joy! They +found their prodigal, it was like a soldier's return to his home. Then +followed refreshments, we played forfeits, and 'I have a +pain'—'Where is it?'—'In my heart'—'Who gave it you?' +My charmer blushed. The old man and I had some punch—they won me +over and did for me completely.</p> + +<p>"I returned to my grandmother with my head in a whirl. I was laughing +all the way home; for full two hours I paced up and down our little +room. I waked up my old granny and told her of my happiness.</p> + +<p>"'But did he give you any money, the brigand?'</p> + +<p>"'He did, granny, he did, my dear—luck has come to us all of a +heap: we've only to open our hand and take it.'</p> + +<p>"I waked up Sofron.</p> + +<p>"'Sofron,' I said, 'take off my boots.'</p> + +<p>"Sofron pulled off my boots.</p> + +<p>"'Come, Sofron, congratulate me now, give me a kiss! I am going to +get married, my lad, I am going to get married. You can get jolly drunk +to-morrow, you can have a spree, my dear soul—your master is +getting married.'</p> + +<p>"My heart was full of jokes and laughter. I was beginning to drop off +to sleep, but something made me get up again. I sat in thought: +to-morrow is the first of April, a bright and playful day—what +should I do? And I thought of something. Why, gentlemen, I got out of +bed, lighted a candle, and sat down to the writing-table just as I was. +I was in a fever of excitement, quite carried away—you know, +gentlemen, what it is when a man is quite carried away? I wallowed +joyfully in the mud, my dear friends. You see what I am like; they take +something from you, and you give them something else as well and say, +'Take that, too.' They strike you on the cheek and in your joy you offer +them your whole back. Then they try to lure you like a dog with a bun, +and you embrace them with your foolish paws and fall to kissing them +with all your heart and soul. Why, see what I am doing now, gentlemen! +You are laughing and whispering—I see it! After I have told you +all my story you will begin to turn me into ridicule, you will begin to +attack me, but yet I go on talking and talking and talking! And who +tells me to? Who drives me to do it? Who is standing behind my back +whispering to me, 'Speak, speak and tell them'? And yet I do talk, I go +on telling you, I try to please you as though you were my brothers, all +my dearest friends.... Ech!"</p> + +<p>The laughter which had sprung up by degrees on all sides completely +drowned at last the voice of the speaker, who really seemed worked up +into a sort of ecstasy. He paused, for several minutes his eyes strayed +about the company, then suddenly, as though carried away by a whirlwind, +he waved his hand, burst out laughing himself, as though he really found +his position amusing, and fell to telling his story again.</p> + +<p>"I scarcely slept all night, gentlemen. I was scribbling all night: +you see, I thought of a trick. Ech, gentlemen, the very thought of it +makes me ashamed. It wouldn't have been so bad if it all had been done +at night—I might have been drunk, blundered, been silly and talked +nonsense—but not a bit of it! I woke up in the morning as soon as +it was light, I hadn't slept more than an hour or two, and was in the +same mind. I dressed, I washed, I curled and pomaded my hair, put on my +new dress coat and went straight off to spend the holiday with Fedosey +Nikolaitch, and I kept the joke I had written in my hat. He met me again +with open arms, and invited me again to his fatherly waistcoat. But I +assumed an air of dignity. I had the joke I thought of the night before +in my mind. I drew a step back.</p> + +<p>"'No, Fedosey Nikolaitch, but will you please read this letter,' and +I gave it him together with my daily report. And do you know what was in +it? Why, 'for such and such reasons the aforesaid Osip Mihalitch asks to +be discharged,' and under my petition I signed my full rank! Just think +what a notion! Good Lord, it was the cleverest thing I could think of! +As to-day was the first of April, I was pretending, for the sake of a +joke, that my resentment was not over, that I had changed my mind in the +night and was grumpy, and more offended than ever, as though to say, 'My +dear benefactor, I don't want to know you nor your daughter either. I +put the money in my pocket yesterday, so I am secure—so here's my +petition for a transfer to be discharged. I don't care to serve under +such a chief as Fedosey Nikolaitch. I want to go into a different office +and then, maybe, I'll inform.' I pretended to be a regular scoundrel, I +wanted to frighten them. And a nice way of frightening them, wasn't it? +A pretty thing, gentlemen, wasn't it? You see, my heart had grown tender +towards them since the day before, so I thought I would have a little +joke at the family—I would tease the fatherly heart of Fedosey +Nikolaitch.</p> + +<p>"As soon as he took my letter and opened it, I saw his whole +countenance change.</p> + +<p>"'What's the meaning of this, Osip Mihalitch?'</p> + +<p>"And like a little fool I said—</p> + +<p>"'The first of April! Many happy returns of the day, Fedosey +Nikolaitch!' just like a silly school-boy who hides behind his +grandmother's arm-chair and then shouts 'oof' into her ear suddenly at +the top of his voice, meaning to frighten her. Yes ... yes, I feel quite +ashamed to talk about it, gentlemen! No, I won't tell you."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense! What happened then?"</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, nonsense! Tell us! Yes, do," rose on all sides.</p> + +<p>"There was an outcry and a hullabaloo, my dear friends! Such +exclamations of surprise! And 'you mischievous fellow, you naughty man,' +and what a fright I had given them—and all so sweet that I felt +ashamed and wondered how such a holy place could be profaned by a sinner +like me.</p> + +<p>"'Well, my dear boy,' piped the mamma, 'you gave me such a fright +that my legs are all of a tremble still, I can hardly stand on my feet! +I ran to Masha as though I were crazy: "Mashenka," I said, "what will +become of us! See how <i>your</i> friend has turned out!" and I was +unjust to you, my dear boy. You must forgive an old woman like me, I was +taken in! Well, I thought, when he got home last night, he got home +late, he began thinking and perhaps he fancied that we sent for him on +purpose, yesterday, that we wanted to get hold of him. I turned cold at +the thought! Give over, Mashenka, don't go on winking at me—Osip +Mihalitch isn't a stranger! I am your mother, I am not likely to say any +harm! Thank God, I am not twenty, but turned forty-five.'</p> + +<p>"Well, gentlemen, I almost flopped at her feet on the spot. Again +there were tears, again there were kisses. Jokes began. Fedosey +Nikolaitch, too, thought he would make April fools of us. He told us the +fiery bird had flown up with a letter in her diamond beak! He tried to +take us in, too—didn't we laugh? weren't we touched? Foo! I feel +ashamed to talk about it.</p> + +<p>"Well, my good friends, the end is not far off now. One day passed, +two, three, a week; I was regularly engaged to her. I should think so! +The wedding rings were ordered, the day was fixed, only they did not +want to make it public for a time—they wanted to wait for the +Inspector's visit to be over. I was all impatience for the Inspector's +arrival—my happiness depended upon him. I was in a hurry to get +his visit over. And in the excitement and rejoicing Fedosey Nikolaitch +threw all the work upon me: writing up the accounts, making up the +reports, checking the books, balancing the totals. I found things in +terrible disorder—everything had been neglected, there were +muddles and irregularities everywhere. Well, I thought, I must do my +best for my father-in-law! And he was ailing all the time, he was taken +ill, it appears; he seemed to get worse day by day. And, indeed, I grew +as thin as a rake myself, I was afraid I would break down. However, I +finished the work grandly. I got things straight for him in time.</p> + +<p>"Suddenly they sent a messenger for me. I ran headlong—what +could it be? I saw my Fedosey Nikolaitch, his head bandaged up in a +vinegar compress, frowning, sighing, and moaning.</p> + +<p>"'My dear boy, my son,' he said, 'if I die, to whom shall I leave +you, my darlings?'</p> + +<p>"His wife trailed in with all his children; Mashenka was in tears and +I blubbered, too.</p> + +<p>"'Oh no,' he said. 'God will be merciful, He will not visit my +transgressions on you.'</p> + +<p>"Then he dismissed them all, told me to shut the door after them, and +we were left alone, <i>tête-à-tête</i>.</p> + +<p>"'I have a favour to ask of you.'</p> + +<p>"'What favour?'</p> + +<p>"'Well, my dear boy, there is no rest for me even on my deathbed. I +am in want.'</p> + +<p>"'How so?' I positively flushed crimson, I could hardly speak.</p> + +<p>"'Why, I had to pay some of my own money into the Treasury. I grudge +nothing for the public weal, my boy! I don't grudge my life. Don't you +imagine any ill. I am sad to think that slanderers have blackened my +name to you.... You were mistaken, my hair has gone white from grief. +The Inspector is coming down upon us and Matveyev is seven thousand +roubles short, and I shall have to answer for it.... Who else? It will +be visited upon me, my boy: where were my eyes? And how can we get it +from Matveyev? He has had trouble enough already: why should I bring the +poor fellow to ruin?'</p> + +<p>"'Holy saints!' I thought, 'what a just man! What a heart!'</p> + +<p>"'And I don't want to take my daughter's money, which has been set +aside for her dowry: that sum is sacred. I have money of my own, it's +true, but I have lent it all to friends—how is one to collect it +all in a minute?'</p> + +<p>"I simply fell on my knees before him. 'My benefactor!' I cried, +'I've wronged you, I have injured you; it was slanderers who wrote +against you; don't break my heart, take back your money!'</p> + +<p>"He looked at me and there were tears in his eyes. 'That was just +what I expected from you, my son. Get up! I forgave you at the time for +the sake of my daughter's tears—now my heart forgives you freely! +You have healed my wounds. I bless you for all time!'</p> + +<p>"Well, when he blessed me, gentlemen, I scurried home as soon as I +could. I got the money:</p> + +<p>"'Here, father, here's the money. I've only spent fifty roubles.'</p> + +<p>"'Well, that's all right,' he said. 'But now every trifle may count; +the time is short, write a report dated some days ago that you were +short of money and had taken fifty roubles on account. I'll tell the +authorities you had it in advance.'</p> + +<p>"Well, gentlemen, what do you think? I did write that report, +too!"</p> + +<p>"Well, what then? What happened? How did it end?"</p> + +<p>"As soon as I had written the report, gentlemen, this is how it +ended. The next day, in the early morning, an envelope with a government +seal arrived. I looked at it and what had I got? The sack! That is, +instructions to hand over my work, to deliver the accounts—and to +go about my business!"</p> + +<p>"How so?"</p> + +<p>"That's just what I cried at the top of my voice, 'How so?' +Gentlemen, there was a ringing in my ears. I thought there was no +special reason for it—but no, the Inspector had arrived in the +town. My heart sank. 'It's not for nothing,' I thought. And just as I +was I rushed off to Fedosey Nikolaitch.</p> + +<p>"'How is this?' I said.</p> + +<p>"'What do you mean?' he said.</p> + +<p>"'Why, I am dismissed.'</p> + +<p>"'Dismissed? how?'</p> + +<p>"'Why, look at this!'</p> + +<p>"'Well, what of it?'</p> + +<p>"'Why, but I didn't ask for it!'</p> + +<p>"'Yes, you did—you sent in your papers on the first +of—April.' (I had never taken that letter back!)</p> + +<p>"'Fedosey Nikolaitch! I can't believe my ears, I can't believe my +eyes! Is this you?'</p> + +<p>"'It is me, why?'</p> + +<p>"'My God!'</p> + +<p>"'I am sorry, sir. I am very sorry that you made up your mind to +retire from the service so early. A young man ought to be in the +service, and you've begun to be a little light-headed of late. And as +for your character, set your mind at rest: I'll see to that! Your +behaviour has always been so exemplary!'</p> + +<p>"'But that was a little joke, Fedosey Nikolaitch! I didn't mean it, I +just gave you the letter for your fatherly ... that's all.'</p> + +<p>"'That's all? A queer joke, sir! Does one jest with documents like +that? Why, you are sometimes sent to Siberia for such jokes. Now, +good-bye. I am busy. We have the Inspector here—the duties of the +service before everything; you can kick up your heels, but we have to +sit here at work. But I'll get you a character——Oh, another +thing: I've just bought a house from Matveyev. We are moving in in a day +or two. So I expect I shall not have the pleasure of seeing you at our +new residence. <i>Bon voyage!</i>'</p> + +<p>"I ran home.</p> + +<p>"'We are lost, granny!'</p> + +<p>"She wailed, poor dear, and then I saw the page from Fedosey +Nikolaitch's running up with a note and a bird-cage, and in the cage +there was a starling. In the fullness of my heart I had given her the +starling. And in the note there were the words: 'April 1st,' and nothing +more. What do you think of that, gentlemen?"</p> + +<p>"What happened then? What happened then?"</p> + +<p>"What then! I met Fedosey Nikolaitch once, I meant to tell him to his +face he was a scoundrel."</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"But somehow I couldn't bring myself to it, gentlemen."</p> + +<p class="p4 center"><a name="Pg223">A LITTLE HERO</a></p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">a story</span></p> + +<p class="p2">At that time I was nearly eleven, I had been sent in July +to spend the holiday in a village near Moscow with a relation of mine +called T., whose house was full of guests, fifty, or perhaps more.... I +don't remember, I didn't count. The house was full of noise and gaiety. +It seemed as though it were a continual holiday, which would never end. +It seemed as though our host had taken a vow to squander all his vast +fortune as rapidly as possible, and he did indeed succeed, not long ago, +in justifying this surmise, that is, in making a clean sweep of it all +to the last stick.</p> + +<p>Fresh visitors used to drive up every minute. Moscow was close by, in +sight, so that those who drove away only made room for others, and the +everlasting holiday went on its course. Festivities succeeded one +another, and there was no end in sight to the entertainments. There were +riding parties about the environs; excursions to the forest or the +river; picnics, dinners in the open air; suppers on the great terrace of +the house, bordered with three rows of gorgeous flowers that flooded +with their fragrance the fresh night air, and illuminated the brilliant +lights which made our ladies, who were almost every one of them pretty +at all times, seem still more charming, with their faces excited by the +impressions of the day, with their sparkling eyes, with their +interchange of spritely conversation, their peals of ringing laughter; +dancing, music, singing; if the sky were overcast tableaux vivants, +charades, proverbs were arranged, private theatricals were got up. There +were good talkers, story-tellers, wits.</p> + +<p>Certain persons were prominent in the foreground. Of course +backbiting and slander ran their course, as without them the world could +not get on, and millions of persons would perish of boredom, like flies. +But as I was at that time eleven I was absorbed by very different +interests, and either failed to observe these people, or if I noticed +anything, did not see it all. It was only afterwards that some things +came back to my mind. My childish eyes could only see the brilliant side +of the picture, and the general animation, splendour, and +bustle—all that, seen and heard for the first time, made such an +impression upon me that for the first few days, I was completely +bewildered and my little head was in a whirl.</p> + +<p>I keep speaking of my age, and of course I was a child, nothing more +than a child. Many of these lovely ladies petted me without dreaming of +considering my age. But strange to say, a sensation which I did not +myself understand already had possession of me; something was already +whispering in my heart, of which till then it had had no knowledge, no +conception, and for some reason it began all at once to burn and throb, +and often my face glowed with a sudden flush. At times I felt as it were +abashed, and even resentful of the various privileges of my childish +years. At other times a sort of wonder overwhelmed me, and I would go +off into some corner where I could sit unseen, as though to take breath +and remember something—something which it seemed to me I had +remembered perfectly till then, and now had suddenly forgotten, +something without which I could not show myself anywhere, and could not +exist at all.</p> + +<p>At last it seemed to me as though I were hiding something from every +one. But nothing would have induced me to speak of it to any one, +because, small boy that I was, I was ready to weep with shame. Soon in +the midst of the vortex around me I was conscious of a certain +loneliness. There were other children, but all were either much older or +younger than I; besides, I was in no mood for them. Of course nothing +would have happened to me if I had not been in an exceptional position. +In the eyes of those charming ladies I was still the little unformed +creature whom they at once liked to pet, and with whom they could play +as though he were a little doll. One of them particularly, a +fascinating, fair woman, with very thick luxuriant hair, such as I had +never seen before and probably shall never see again, seemed to have +taken a vow never to leave me in peace. I was confused, while she was +amused by the laughter which she continually provoked from all around us +by her wild, giddy pranks with me, and this apparently gave her immense +enjoyment. At school among her schoolfellows she was probably nicknamed +the Tease. She was wonderfully good-looking, and there was something in +her beauty which drew one's eyes from the first moment. And certainly +she had nothing in common with the ordinary modest little fair girls, +white as down and soft as white mice, or pastors' daughters. She was not +very tall, and was rather plump, but had soft, delicate, exquisitely cut +features. There was something quick as lightning in her face, and indeed +she was like fire all over, light, swift, alive. Her big open eyes +seemed to flash sparks; they glittered like diamonds, and I would never +exchange such blue sparkling eyes for any black ones, were they blacker +than any Andalusian orb. And, indeed, my blonde was fully a match for +the famous brunette whose praises were sung by a great and well-known +poet, who, in a superb poem, vowed by all Castille that he was ready to +break his bones to be permitted only to touch the mantle of his divinity +with the tip of his finger. Add to that, that <i>my</i> charmer was the +merriest in the world, the wildest giggler, playful as a child, although +she had been married for the last five years. There was a continual +laugh upon her lips, fresh as the morning rose that, with the first ray +of sunshine, opens its fragrant crimson bud with the cool dewdrops still +hanging heavy upon it.</p> + +<p>I remember that the day after my arrival private theatricals were +being got up. The drawing-room was, as they say, packed to overflowing; +there was not a seat empty, and as I was somehow late I had to enjoy the +performance standing. But the amusing play attracted me to move +forwarder and forwarder, and unconsciously I made my way to the first +row, where I stood at last leaning my elbows on the back of an armchair, +in which a lady was sitting. It was my blonde divinity, but we had not +yet made acquaintance. And I gazed, as it happened, at her marvellous, +fascinating shoulders, plump and white as milk, though it did not matter +to me in the least whether I stared at a woman's exquisite shoulders or +at the cap with flaming ribbons that covered the grey locks of a +venerable lady in the front row. Near my blonde divinity sat a spinster +lady not in her first youth, one of those who, as I chanced to observe +later, always take refuge in the immediate neighbourhood of young and +pretty women, selecting such as are not fond of cold-shouldering young +men. But that is not the point, only this lady, noting my fixed gaze, +bent down to her neighbour and with a simper whispered something in her +ear. The blonde lady turned at once, and I remember that her glowing +eyes so flashed upon me in the half dark, that, not prepared to meet +them, I started as though I were scalded. The beauty smiled.</p> + +<p>"Do you like what they are acting?" she asked, looking into my face +with a shy and mocking expression.</p> + +<p>"Yes," I answered, still gazing at her with a sort of wonder that +evidently pleased her.</p> + +<p>"But why are you standing? You'll get tired. Can't you find a +seat?"</p> + +<p>"That's just it, I can't," I answered, more occupied with my +grievance than with the beauty's sparkling eyes, and rejoicing in +earnest at having found a kind heart to whom I could confide my +troubles. "I have looked everywhere, but all the chairs are taken," I +added, as though complaining to her that all the chairs were taken.</p> + +<p>"Come here," she said briskly, quick to act on every decision, and, +indeed, on every mad idea that flashed on her giddy brain, "come here, +and sit on my knee."</p> + +<p>"On your knee," I repeated, taken aback. I have mentioned already +that I had begun to resent the privileges of childhood and to be ashamed +of them in earnest. This lady, as though in derision, had gone ever so +much further than the others. Moreover, I had always been a shy and +bashful boy, and of late had begun to be particularly shy with +women.</p> + +<p>"Why yes, on my knee. Why don't you want to sit on my knee?" she +persisted, beginning to laugh more and more, so that at last she was +simply giggling, goodness knows at what, perhaps at her freak, or +perhaps at my confusion. But that was just what she wanted.</p> + +<p>I flushed, and in my confusion looked round trying to find where to +escape; but seeing my intention she managed to catch hold of my hand to +prevent me from going away, and pulling it towards her, suddenly, quite +unexpectedly, to my intense astonishment, squeezed it in her mischievous +warm fingers, and began to pinch my fingers till they hurt so much that +I had to do my very utmost not to cry out, and in my effort to control +myself made the most absurd grimaces. I was, besides, moved to the +greatest amazement, perplexity, and even horror, at the discovery that +there were ladies so absurd and spiteful as to talk nonsense to boys, +and even pinch their fingers, for no earthly reason and before +everybody. Probably my unhappy face reflected my bewilderment, for the +mischievous creature laughed in my face, as though she were crazy, and +meantime she was pinching my fingers more and more vigorously. She was +highly delighted in playing such a mischievous prank and completely +mystifying and embarrassing a poor boy. My position was desperate. In +the first place I was hot with shame, because almost every one near had +turned round to look at us, some in wonder, others with laughter, +grasping at once that the beauty was up to some mischief. I dreadfully +wanted to scream, too, for she was wringing my fingers with positive +fury just because I didn't scream; while I, like a Spartan, made up my +mind to endure the agony, afraid by crying out of causing a general +fuss, which was more than I could face. In utter despair I began at last +struggling with her, trying with all my might to pull away my hand, but +my persecutor was much stronger than I was. At last I could bear it no +longer, and uttered a shriek—that was all she was waiting for! +Instantly she let me go, and turned away as though nothing had happened, +as though it was not she who had played the trick but some one else, +exactly like some schoolboy who, as soon as the master's back is turned, +plays some trick on some one near him, pinches some small weak boy, +gives him a flip, a kick, or a nudge with his elbows, and instantly +turns again, buries himself in his book and begins repeating his lesson, +and so makes a fool of the infuriated teacher who flies down like a hawk +at the noise.</p> + +<p>But luckily for me the general attention was distracted at the moment +by the masterly acting of our host, who was playing the chief part in +the performance, some comedy of Scribe's. Every one began to applaud; +under cover of the noise I stole away and hurried to the furthest end of +the room, from which, concealed behind a column, I looked with horror +towards the place where the treacherous beauty was sitting. She was +still laughing, holding her handkerchief to her lips. And for a long +time she was continually turning round, looking for me in every +direction, probably regretting that our silly tussle was so soon over, +and hatching some other trick to play on me.</p> + +<p>That was the beginning of our acquaintance, and from that evening she +would never let me alone. She persecuted me without consideration or +conscience, she became my tyrant and tormentor. The whole absurdity of +her jokes with me lay in the fact that she pretended to be head over +ears in love with me, and teased me before every one. Of course for a +wild creature as I was all this was so tiresome and vexatious that it +almost reduced me to tears, and I was sometimes put in such a difficult +position that I was on the point of fighting with my treacherous +admirer. My naïve confusion, my desperate distress, seemed to egg her on +to persecute me more; she knew no mercy, while I did not know how to get +away from her. The laughter which always accompanied us, and which she +knew so well how to excite, roused her to fresh pranks. But at last +people began to think that she went a little too far in her jests. And, +indeed, as I remember now, she did take outrageous liberties with a +child such as I was.</p> + +<p>But that was her character; she was a spoilt child in every respect. +I heard afterwards that her husband, a very short, very fat, and very +red-faced man, very rich and apparently very much occupied with +business, spoilt her more than any one. Always busy and flying round, he +could not stay two hours in one place. Every day he drove into Moscow, +sometimes twice in the day, and always, as he declared himself, on +business. It would be hard to find a livelier and more good-natured face +than his facetious but always well-bred countenance. He not only loved +his wife to the point of weakness, softness: he simply worshipped her +like an idol.</p> + +<p>He did not restrain her in anything. She had masses of friends, male +and female. In the first place, almost everybody liked her; and +secondly, the feather-headed creature was not herself over particular in +the choice of her friends, though there was a much more serious +foundation to her character than might be supposed from what I have just +said about her. But of all her friends she liked best of all one young +lady, a distant relation, who was also of our party now. There existed +between them a tender and subtle affection, one of those attachments +which sometimes spring up at the meeting of two dispositions often the +very opposite of each other, of which one is deeper, purer and more +austere, while the other, with lofty humility, and generous +self-criticism, lovingly gives way to the other, conscious of the +friend's superiority and cherishing the friendship as a happiness. Then +begins that tender and noble subtlety in the relations of such +characters, love and infinite indulgence on the one side, on the other +love and respect—a respect approaching awe, approaching anxiety as +to the impression made on the friend so highly prized, and an eager, +jealous desire to get closer and closer to that friend's heart in every +step in life.</p> + +<p>These two friends were of the same age, but there was an immense +difference between them in everything—in looks, to begin with. +Madame M. was also very handsome, but there was something special in her +beauty that strikingly distinguished her from the crowd of pretty women; +there was something in her face that at once drew the affection of all +to her, or rather, which aroused a generous and lofty feeling of +kindliness in every one who met her. There are such happy faces. At her +side everyone grew as it were better, freer, more cordial; and yet her +big mournful eyes, full of fire and vigour, had a timid and anxious +look, as though every minute dreading something antagonistic and +menacing, and this strange timidity at times cast so mournful a shade +over her mild, gentle features which recalled the serene faces of +Italian Madonnas, that looking at her one soon became oneself sad, as +though for some trouble of one's own. The pale, thin face, in which, +through the irreproachable beauty of the pure, regular lines and the +mournful severity of some mute hidden grief, there often flitted the +clear looks of early childhood, telling of trustful years and perhaps +simple-hearted happiness in the recent past, the gentle but diffident, +hesitating smile, all aroused such unaccountable sympathy for her that +every heart was unconsciously stirred with a sweet and warm anxiety that +powerfully interceded on her behalf even at a distance, and made even +strangers feel akin to her. But the lovely creature seemed silent and +reserved, though no one could have been more attentive and loving if any +one needed sympathy. There are women who are like sisters of mercy in +life. Nothing can be hidden from them, nothing, at least, that is a sore +or wound of the heart. Any one who is suffering may go boldly and +hopefully to them without fear of being a burden, for few men know the +infinite patience of love, compassion and forgiveness that may be found +in some women's hearts. Perfect treasures of sympathy, consolation and +hope are laid up in these pure hearts, so often full of suffering of +their own—for a heart which loves much grieves much—though +their wounds are carefully hidden from the curious eye, for deep sadness +is most often mute and concealed. They are not dismayed by the depth of +the wound, nor by its foulness and its stench; any one who comes to them +is deserving of help; they are, as it were, born for heroism.... Mme. M. +was tall, supple and graceful, but rather thin. All her movements seemed +somehow irregular, at times slow, smooth, and even dignified, at times +childishly hasty; and yet, at the same time, there was a sort of timid +humility in her gestures, something tremulous and defenceless, though it +neither desired nor asked for protection.</p> + +<p>I have mentioned already that the outrageous teasing of the +treacherous fair lady abashed me, flabbergasted me, and wounded me to +the quick. But there was for that another secret, strange and foolish +reason, which I concealed, at which I shuddered as at a skeleton. At the +very thought of it, brooding, utterly alone and overwhelmed, in some +dark mysterious corner to which the inquisitorial mocking eye of the +blue-eyed rogue could not penetrate, I almost gasped with confusion, +shame and fear—in short, I was in love; that perhaps is nonsense, +that could hardly have been. But why was it, of all the faces +surrounding me, only her face caught my attention? Why was it that it +was only she whom I cared to follow with my eyes, though I certainly had +no inclination in those days to watch ladies and seek their +acquaintance? This happened most frequently on the evenings when we were +all kept indoors by bad weather, and when, lonely, hiding in some corner +of the big drawing-room, I stared about me aimlessly, unable to find +anything to do, for except my teasing ladies, few people ever addressed +me, and I was insufferably bored on such evenings. Then I stared at the +people round me, listened to the conversation, of which I often did not +understand one word, and at that time the mild eyes, the gentle smile +and lovely face of Mme. M. (for she was the object of my passion) for +some reason caught my fascinated attention; and the strange vague, but +unutterably sweet impression remained with me. Often for hours together +I could not tear myself away from her; I studied every gesture, every +movement she made, listened to every vibration of her rich, silvery, but +rather muffled voice; but strange to say, as the result of all my +observations, I felt, mixed with a sweet and timid impression, a feeling +of intense curiosity. It seemed as though I were on the verge of some +mystery.</p> + +<p>Nothing distressed me so much as being mocked at in the presence of +Mme. M. This mockery and humorous persecution, as I thought, humiliated +me. And when there was a general burst of laughter at my expense, in +which Mme. M. sometimes could not help joining, in despair, beside +myself with misery, I used to tear myself from my tormentor and run away +upstairs, where I remained in solitude the rest of the day, not daring +to show my face in the drawing-room. I did not yet, however, understand +my shame nor my agitation; the whole process went on in me +unconsciously. I had hardly said two words to Mme. M., and indeed I +should not have dared to. But one evening after an unbearable day I +turned back from an expedition with the rest of the company. I was +horribly tired and made my way home across the garden. On a seat in a +secluded avenue I saw Mme. M. She was sitting quite alone, as though she +had purposely chosen this solitary spot, her head was drooping and she +was mechanically twisting her handkerchief. She was so lost in thought +that she did not hear me till I reached her.</p> + +<p>Noticing me, she got up quickly from her seat, turned round, and I +saw her hurriedly wipe her eyes with her handkerchief. She was crying. +Drying her eyes, she smiled to me and walked back with me to the house. +I don't remember what we talked about; but she frequently sent me off on +one pretext or another, to pick a flower, or to see who was riding in +the next avenue. And when I walked away from her, she at once put her +handkerchief to her eyes again and wiped away rebellious tears, which +would persist in rising again and again from her heart and dropping from +her poor eyes. I realized that I was very much in her way when she sent +me off so often, and, indeed, she saw herself that I noticed it all, but +yet could not control herself, and that made my heart ache more and more +for her. I raged at myself at that moment and was almost in despair; +cursed myself for my awkwardness and lack of resource, and at the same +time did not know how to leave her tactfully, without betraying that I +had noticed her distress, but walked beside her in mournful +bewilderment, almost in alarm, utterly at a loss and unable to find a +single word to keep up our scanty conversation.</p> + +<p>This meeting made such an impression on me that I stealthily watched +Mme. M. the whole evening with eager curiosity, and never took my eyes +off her. But it happened that she twice caught me unawares watching her, +and on the second occasion, noticing me, she gave me a smile. It was the +only time she smiled that evening. The look of sadness had not left her +face, which was now very pale. She spent the whole evening talking to an +ill-natured and quarrelsome old lady, whom nobody liked owing to her +spying and backbiting habits, but of whom every one was afraid, and +consequently every one felt obliged to be polite to her....</p> + +<p>At ten o'clock Mme. M.'s husband arrived. Till that moment I watched +her very attentively, never taking my eyes off her mournful face; now at +the unexpected entrance of her husband I saw her start, and her pale +face turned suddenly as white as a handkerchief. It was so noticeable +that other people observed it. I overheard a fragmentary conversation +from which I guessed that Mme. M. was not quite happy; they said her +husband was as jealous as an Arab, not from love, but from vanity. He +was before all things a European, a modern man, who sampled the newest +ideas and prided himself upon them. In appearance he was a tall, +dark-haired, particularly thick-set man, with European whiskers, with a +self-satisfied, red face, with teeth white as sugar, and with an +irreproachably gentlemanly deportment. He was called a <i>clever +man</i>. Such is the name given in certain circles to a peculiar species +of mankind which grows fat at other people's expense, which does +absolutely nothing and has no desire to do anything, and whose heart has +turned into a lump of fat from everlasting slothfulness and idleness. +You continually hear from such men that there is nothing they can do +owing to certain very complicated and hostile circumstances, which +"thwart their genius," and that it was "sad to see the waste of their +talents." This is a fine phrase of theirs, their <i>mot d'ordre</i>, +their watchword, a phrase which these well-fed, fat friends of ours +bring out at every minute, so that it has long ago bored us as an arrant +Tartuffism, an empty form of words. Some, however, of these amusing +creatures, who cannot succeed in finding anything to do—though, +indeed, they never seek it—try to make every one believe that they +have not a lump of fat for a heart, but on the contrary, something +<i>very deep</i>, though what precisely the greatest surgeon would +hardly venture to decide—from civility, of course. These gentlemen +make their way in the world through the fact that all their instincts +are bent in the direction of coarse sneering, short-sighted censure and +immense conceit. Since they have nothing else to do but note and +emphasize the mistakes and weaknesses of others, and as they have +precisely as much good feeling as an oyster, it is not difficult for +them with such powers of self-preservation to get on with people fairly +successfully. They pride themselves extremely upon that. They are, for +instance, as good as persuaded that almost the whole world owes them +something; that it is theirs, like an oyster which they keep in reserve; +that all are fools except themselves; that every one is like an orange +or a sponge, which they will squeeze as soon as they want the juice; +that they are the masters everywhere, and that all this acceptable state +of affairs is solely due to the fact that they are people of so much +intellect and character. In their measureless conceit they do not admit +any defects in themselves, they are like that species of practical +rogues, innate Tartuffes and Falstaffs, who are such thorough rogues +that at last they have come to believe that that is as it should be, +that is, that they should spend their lives in knavishness; they have so +often assured every one that they are honest men, that they have come to +believe that they are honest men, and that their roguery is honesty. +They are never capable of inner judgment before their conscience, of +generous self-criticism; for some things they are too fat. Their own +priceless personality, their Baal and Moloch, their magnificent +<i>ego</i> is always in their foreground everywhere. All nature, the +whole world for them is no more than a splendid mirror created for the +little god to admire himself continually in it, and to see no one and +nothing behind himself; so it is not strange that he sees everything in +the world in such a hideous light. He has a phrase in readiness for +everything and—the acme of ingenuity on his part—the most +fashionable phrase. It is just these people, indeed, who help to make +the fashion, proclaiming at every cross-road an idea in which they scent +success. A fine nose is just what they have for sniffing a fashionable +phrase and making it their own before other people get hold of it, so +that it seems to have originated with them. They have a particular store +of phrases for proclaiming their profound sympathy for humanity, for +defining what is the most correct and rational form of philanthropy, and +continually attacking romanticism, in other words, everything fine and +true, each atom of which is more precious than all their mollusc tribe. +But they are too coarse to recognize the truth in an indirect, +roundabout and unfinished form, and they reject everything that is +immature, still fermenting and unstable. The well-nourished man has +spent all his life in merry-making, with everything provided, has done +nothing himself and does not know how hard every sort of work is, and so +woe betide you if you jar upon his fat feelings by any sort of +roughness; he'll never forgive you for that, he will always remember it +and will gladly avenge it. The long and short of it is, that my hero is +neither more nor less than a gigantic, incredibly swollen bag, full of +sentences, fashionable phrases, and labels of all sorts and kinds.</p> + +<p>M. M., however, had a speciality and was a very remarkable man; he +was a wit, good talker and story-teller, and there was always a circle +round him in every drawing-room. That evening he was particularly +successful in making an impression. He took possession of the +conversation; he was in his best form, gay, pleased at something, and he +compelled the attention of all; but Mme. M. looked all the time as +though she were ill; her face was so sad that I fancied every minute +that tears would begin quivering on her long eyelashes. All this, as I +have said, impressed me extremely and made me wonder. I went away with a +feeling of strange curiosity, and dreamed all night of M. M., though +till then I had rarely had dreams.</p> + +<p>Next day, early in the morning, I was summoned to a rehearsal of some +tableaux vivants in which I had to take part. The tableaux vivants, +theatricals, and afterwards a dance were all fixed for the same evening, +five days later—the birthday of our host's younger daughter. To +this entertainment, which was almost improvised, another hundred guests +were invited from Moscow and from surrounding villas, so that there was +a great deal of fuss, bustle and commotion. The rehearsal, or rather +review of the costumes, was fixed so early in the morning because our +manager, a well-known artist, a friend of our host's, who had consented +through affection for him to undertake the arrangement of the tableaux +and the training of us for them, was in haste now to get to Moscow to +purchase properties and to make final preparations for the fête, as +there was no time to lose. I took part in one tableau with Mme. M. It +was a scene from mediæval life and was called "The Lady of the Castle +and Her Page."</p> + +<p>I felt unutterably confused on meeting Mme. M. at the rehearsal. I +kept feeling that she would at once read in my eyes all the reflections, +the doubts, the surmises, that had arisen in my mind since the previous +day. I fancied, too, that I was, as it were, to blame in regard to her, +for having come upon her tears the day before and hindered her grieving, +so that she could hardly help looking at me askance, as an unpleasant +witness and unforgiven sharer of her secret. But, thank goodness, it +went off without any great trouble; I was simply not noticed. I think +she had no thoughts to spare for me or for the rehearsal; she was +absent-minded, sad and gloomily thoughtful; it was evident that she was +worried by some great anxiety. As soon as my part was over I ran away to +change my clothes, and ten minutes later came out on the verandah into +the garden. Almost at the same time Mme. M. came out by another door, +and immediately afterwards coming towards us appeared her self-satisfied +husband, who was returning from the garden, after just escorting into it +quite a crowd of ladies and there handing them over to a competent +<i>cavaliere servente</i>. The meeting of the husband and wife was +evidently unexpected. Mme. M., I don't know why, grew suddenly confused, +and a faint trace of vexation was betrayed in her impatient movement. +The husband, who had been carelessly whistling an air and with an air of +profundity stroking his whiskers, now, on meeting his wife, frowned and +scrutinized her, as I remember now, with a markedly inquisitorial +stare.</p> + +<p>"You are going into the garden?" he asked, noticing the parasol and +book in her hand.</p> + +<p>"No, into the copse," she said, with a slight flush.</p> + +<p>"Alone?"</p> + +<p>"With him," said Mme. M., pointing to me. "I always go a walk alone +in the morning," she added, speaking in an uncertain, hesitating voice, +as people do when they tell their first lie.</p> + +<p>"H'm ... and I have just taken the whole party there. They have all +met there together in the flower arbour to see N. off. He is going away, +you know.... Something has gone wrong in Odessa. Your cousin" (he meant +the fair beauty) "is laughing and crying at the same time; there is no +making her out. She says, though, that you are angry with N. about +something and so wouldn't go and see him off. Nonsense, of course?"</p> + +<p>"She's laughing," said Mme. M., coming down the verandah steps.</p> + +<p>"So this is your daily <i>cavaliere servente</i>," added M. M., with +a wry smile, turning his lorgnette upon me.</p> + +<p>"Page!" I cried, angered by the lorgnette and the jeer; and laughing +straight in his face I jumped down the three steps of the verandah at +one bound.</p> + +<p>"A pleasant walk," muttered M. M., and went on his way.</p> + +<p>Of course, I immediately joined Mme. M. as soon as she indicated me +to her husband, and looked as though she had invited me to do so an hour +before, and as though I had been accompanying her on her walks every +morning for the last month. But I could not make out why she was so +confused, so embarrassed, and what was in her mind when she brought +herself to have recourse to her little lie? Why had she not simply said +that she was going alone? I did not know how to look at her, but +overwhelmed with wonder I began by degrees very naïvely peeping into her +face; but just as an hour before at the rehearsal she did not notice +either my looks or my mute question. The same anxiety, only more intense +and more distinct, was apparent in her face, in her agitation, in her +walk. She was in haste, and walked more and more quickly and kept +looking uneasily down every avenue, down every path in the wood that led +in the direction of the garden. And I, too, was expecting something. +Suddenly there was the sound of horses' hoofs behind us. It was the +whole party of ladies and gentlemen on horseback escorting N., the +gentleman who was so suddenly deserting us.</p> + +<p>Among the ladies was my fair tormentor, of whom M. M. had told us +that she was in tears. But characteristically she was laughing like a +child, and was galloping briskly on a splendid bay horse. On reaching us +N. took off his hat, but did not stop, nor say one word to Mme. M. Soon +all the cavalcade disappeared from our sight. I glanced at Mme. M. and +almost cried out in wonder; she was standing as white as a handkerchief +and big tears were gushing from her eyes. By chance our eyes met: Mme. +M. suddenly flushed and turned away for an instant, and a distinct look +of uneasiness and vexation flitted across her face. I was in the way, +worse even than last time, that was clearer than day, but how was I to +get away?</p> + +<p>And, as though guessing my difficulty, Mme. M. opened the book which +she had in her hand, and colouring and evidently trying not to look at +me she said, as though she had only suddenly realized it—</p> + +<p>"Ah! It is the second part. I've made a mistake; please bring me the +first."</p> + +<p>I could not but understand. My part was over, and I could not have +been more directly dismissed.</p> + +<p>I ran off with her book and did not come back. The first part lay +undisturbed on the table that morning....</p> + +<p>But I was not myself; in my heart there was a sort of haunting +terror. I did my utmost not to meet Mme. M. But I looked with wild +curiosity at the self-satisfied person of M. M., as though there must be +something special about him now. I don't understand what was the meaning +of my absurd curiosity. I only remember that I was strangely perplexed +by all that I had chanced to see that morning. But the day was only just +beginning and it was fruitful in events for me.</p> + +<p>Dinner was very early that day. An expedition to a neighbouring +hamlet to see a village festival that was taking place there had been +fixed for the evening, and so it was necessary to be in time to get +ready. I had been dreaming for the last three days of this excursion, +anticipating all sorts of delights. Almost all the company gathered +together on the verandah for coffee. I cautiously followed the others +and concealed myself behind the third row of chairs. I was attracted by +curiosity, and yet I was very anxious not to be seen by Mme. M. But as +luck would have it I was not far from my fair tormentor. Something +miraculous and incredible was happening to her that day; she looked +twice as handsome. I don't know how and why this happens, but such +miracles are by no means rare with women. There was with us at this +moment a new guest, a tall, pale-faced young man, the official admirer +of our fair beauty, who had just arrived from Moscow as though on +purpose to replace N., of whom rumour said that he was desperately in +love with the same lady. As for the newly arrived guest, he had for a +long time past been on the same terms as Benedick with Beatrice, in +Shakespeare's <i>Much Ado about Nothing</i>. In short, the fair beauty +was in her very best form that day. Her chatter and her jests were so +full of grace, so trustfully naïve, so innocently careless, she was +persuaded of the general enthusiasm with such graceful self-confidence +that she really was all the time the centre of peculiar adoration. A +throng of surprised and admiring listeners was continually round her, +and she had never been so fascinating. Every word she uttered was +marvellous and seductive, was caught up and handed round in the circle, +and not one word, one jest, one sally was lost. I fancy no one had +expected from her such taste, such brilliance, such wit. Her best +qualities were, as a rule, buried under the most harum-scarum +wilfulness, the most schoolboyish pranks, almost verging on buffoonery; +they were rarely noticed, and, when they were, were hardly believed in, +so that now her extraordinary brilliancy was accompanied by an eager +whisper of amazement among all. There was, however, one peculiar and +rather delicate circumstance, judging at least by the part in it played +by Mme. M.'s husband, which contributed to her success. The madcap +ventured—and I must add to the satisfaction of almost every one +or, at any rate, to the satisfaction of all the young people—to +make a furious attack upon him, owing to many causes, probably of great +consequence in her eyes. She carried on with him a regular cross-fire of +witticisms, of mocking and sarcastic sallies, of that most illusive and +treacherous kind that, smoothly wrapped up on the surface, hit the mark +without giving the victim anything to lay hold of, and exhaust him in +fruitless efforts to repel the attack, reducing him to fury and comic +despair.</p> + +<p>I don't know for certain, but I fancy the whole proceeding was not +improvised but premeditated. This desperate duel had begun earlier, at +dinner. I call it desperate because M. M. was not quick to surrender. He +had to call upon all his presence of mind, all his sharp wit and rare +resourcefulness not to be completely covered with ignominy. The conflict +was accompanied by the continual and irrepressible laughter of all who +witnessed and took part in it. That day was for him very different from +the day before. It was noticeable that Mme. M. several times did her +utmost to stop her indiscreet friend, who was certainly trying to depict +the jealous husband in the most grotesque and absurd guise, in the guise +of "a bluebeard" it must be supposed, judging from all probabilities, +from what has remained in my memory and finally from the part which I +myself was destined to play in the affair.</p> + +<p>I was drawn into it in a most absurd manner, quite unexpectedly. And +as ill-luck would have it at that moment I was standing where I could be +seen, suspecting no evil and actually forgetting the precautions I had +so long practised. Suddenly I was brought into the foreground as a sworn +foe and natural rival of M. M., as desperately in love with his wife, of +which my persecutress vowed and swore that she had proofs, saying that +only that morning she had seen in the copse....</p> + +<p>But before she had time to finish I broke in at the most desperate +minute. That minute was so diabolically calculated, was so treacherously +prepared to lead up to its finale, its ludicrous <i>dénouement</i>, and +was brought out with such killing humour that a perfect outburst of +irrepressible mirth saluted this last sally. And though even at the time +I guessed that mine was not the most unpleasant part in the performance, +yet I was so confused, so irritated and alarmed that, full of misery and +despair, gasping with shame and tears, I dashed through two rows of +chairs, stepped forward, and addressing my tormentor, cried, in a voice +broken with tears and indignation:</p> + +<p>"Aren't you ashamed ... aloud ... before all the ladies ... to tell +such a wicked ... lie?... Like a small child ... before all these +men.... What will they say?... A big girl like you ... and +married!..."</p> + +<p>But I could not go on, there was a deafening roar of applause. My +outburst created a perfect furore. My naïve gesture, my tears, and +especially the fact that I seemed to be defending M. M., all this +provoked such fiendish laughter, that even now I cannot help laughing at +the mere recollection of it. I was overcome with confusion, senseless +with horror and, burning with shame, hiding my face in my hands rushed +away, knocked a tray out of the hands of a footman who was coming in at +the door, and flew upstairs to my own room. I pulled out the key, which +was on the outside of the door, and locked myself in. I did well, for +there was a hue and cry after me. Before a minute had passed my door was +besieged by a mob of the prettiest ladies. I heard their ringing +laughter, their incessant chatter, their trilling voices; they were all +twittering at once, like swallows. All of them, every one of them, +begged and besought me to open the door, if only for a moment; swore +that no harm should come to me, only that they wanted to smother me with +kisses. But ... what could be more horrible than this novel threat? I +simply burned with shame the other side of the door, hiding my face in +the pillows and did not open, did not even respond. The ladies kept up +their knocking for a long time, but I was deaf and obdurate as only a +boy of eleven could be.</p> + +<p>But what could I do now? Everything was laid bare, everything had +been exposed, everything I had so jealously guarded and concealed!... +Everlasting disgrace and shame had fallen on me! But it is true that I +could not myself have said why I was frightened and what I wanted to +hide; yet I was frightened of something and had trembled like a leaf at +the thought of <i>that something's</i> being discovered. Only till that +minute I had not known what it was: whether it was good or bad, splendid +or shameful, praiseworthy or reprehensible? Now in my distress, in the +misery that had been forced upon me, I learned that it was <i>absurd</i> +and <i>shameful</i>. Instinctively I felt at the same time that this +verdict was false, inhuman, and coarse; but I was crushed, annihilated; +consciousness seemed checked in me and thrown into confusion; I could +not stand up against that verdict, nor criticize it properly. I was +befogged; I only felt that my heart had been inhumanly and shamelessly +wounded, and was brimming over with impotent tears. I was irritated; but +I was boiling with indignation and hate such as I had never felt before, +for it was the first time in my life that I had known real sorrow, +insult, and injury—and it was truly that, without any +exaggeration. The first untried, unformed feeling had been so coarsely +handled in me, a child. The first fragrant, virginal modesty had been so +soon exposed and insulted, and the first and perhaps very real and +æsthetic impression had been so outraged. Of course there was much my +persecutors did not know and did not divine in my sufferings. One +circumstance, which I had not succeeded in analysing till then, of which +I had been as it were afraid, partly entered into it. I went on lying on +my bed in despair and misery, hiding my face in my pillow, and I was +alternately feverish and shivery. I was tormented by two questions: +first, what had the wretched fair beauty seen, and, in fact, what could +she have seen that morning in the copse between Mme. M. and me? And +secondly, how could I now look Mme. M. in the face without dying on the +spot of shame and despair?</p> + +<p>An extraordinary noise in the yard roused me at last from the state +of semi-consciousness into which I had fallen. I got up and went to the +window. The whole yard was packed with carriages, saddle-horses, and +bustling servants. It seemed that they were all setting off; some of the +gentlemen had already mounted their horses, others were taking their +places in the carriages.... Then I remembered the expedition to the +village fête, and little by little an uneasiness came over me; I began +anxiously looking for my pony in the yard; but there was no pony there, +so they must have forgotten me. I could not restrain myself, and rushed +headlong downstairs, thinking no more of unpleasant meetings or my +recent ignominy....</p> + +<p>Terrible news awaited me. There was neither a horse nor seat in any +of the carriages to spare for me; everything had been arranged, all the +seats were taken, and I was forced to give place to others. Overwhelmed +by this fresh blow, I stood on the steps and looked mournfully at the +long rows of coaches, carriages, and chaises, in which there was not the +tiniest corner left for me, and at the smartly dressed ladies, whose +horses were restlessly curvetting.</p> + +<p>One of the gentlemen was late. They were only waiting for his arrival +to set off. His horse was standing at the door, champing the bit, pawing +the earth with his hoofs, and at every moment starting and rearing. Two +stable-boys were carefully holding him by the bridle, and every one else +apprehensively stood at a respectful distance from him.</p> + +<p>A most vexatious circumstance had occurred, which prevented my going. +In addition to the fact that new visitors had arrived, filling up all +the seats, two of the horses had fallen ill, one of them being my pony. +But I was not the only person to suffer: it appeared that there was no +horse for our new visitor, the pale-faced young man of whom I have +spoken already. To get over this difficulty our host had been obliged to +have recourse to the extreme step of offering his fiery unbroken +stallion, adding, to satisfy his conscience, that it was impossible to +ride him, and that they had long intended to sell the beast for its +vicious character, if only a purchaser could be found.</p> + +<p>But, in spite of his warning, the visitor declared that he was a good +horseman, and in any case ready to mount anything rather than not go. +Our host said no more, but now I fancied that a sly and ambiguous smile +was straying on his lips. He waited for the gentleman who had spoken so +well of his own horsemanship, and stood, without mounting his horse, +impatiently rubbing his hands and continually glancing towards the door; +some similar feeling seemed shared by the two stable-boys, who were +holding the stallion, almost breathless with pride at seeing themselves +before the whole company in charge of a horse which might any minute +kill a man for no reason whatever. Something akin to their master's sly +smile gleamed, too, in their eyes, which were round with expectation, +and fixed upon the door from which the bold visitor was to appear. The +horse himself, too, behaved as though he were in league with our host +and the stable-boys. He bore himself proudly and haughtily, as though he +felt that he were being watched by several dozen curious eyes and were +glorying in his evil reputation exactly as some incorrigible rogue might +glory in his criminal exploits. He seemed to be defying the bold man who +would venture to curb his independence.</p> + +<p>That bold man did at last make his appearance. Conscience-stricken at +having kept every one waiting, hurriedly drawing on his gloves, he came +forward without looking at anything, ran down the steps, and only raised +his eyes as he stretched out his hand to seize the mane of the waiting +horse. But he was at once disconcerted by his frantic rearing and a +warning scream from the frightened spectators. The young man stepped +back and looked in perplexity at the vicious horse, which was quivering +all over, snorting with anger, and rolling his bloodshot eyes +ferociously, continually rearing on his hind legs and flinging up his +fore legs as though he meant to bolt into the air and carry the two +stable-boys with him. For a minute the young man stood completely +nonplussed; then, flushing slightly with some embarrassment, he raised +his eyes and looked at the frightened ladies.</p> + +<p>"A very fine horse!" he said, as though to himself, "and to my +thinking it ought to be a great pleasure to ride him; but ... but do you +know, I think I won't go?" he concluded, turning to our host with the +broad, good-natured smile which so suited his kind and clever face.</p> + +<p>"Yet I consider you are an excellent horseman, I assure you," +answered the owner of the unapproachable horse, delighted, and he warmly +and even gratefully pressed the young man's hand, "just because from the +first moment you saw the sort of brute you had to deal with," he added +with dignity. "Would you believe me, though I have served twenty-three +years in the hussars, yet I've had the pleasure of being laid on the +ground three times, thanks to that beast, that is, as often as I mounted +the useless animal. Tancred, my boy, there's no one here fit for you! +Your rider, it seems, must be some Ilya Muromets, and he must be sitting +quiet now in the village of Kapatcharovo, waiting for your teeth to fall +out. Come, take him away, he has frightened people enough. It was <ins +title="missing in the original">a</ins> waste of time to bring him out," +he cried, rubbing his hands complacently.</p> + +<p>It must be observed that Tancred was no sort of use to his master and +simply ate corn for nothing; moreover, the old hussar had lost his +reputation for a knowledge of horseflesh by paying a fabulous sum for +the worthless beast, which he had purchased only for his beauty ... yet +he was delighted now that Tancred had kept up his reputation, had +disposed of another rider, and so had drawn closer on himself fresh +senseless laurels.</p> + +<p>"So you are not going?" cried the blonde beauty, who was particularly +anxious that her <i>cavaliere servente</i> should be in attendance on +this occasion. "Surely you are not frightened?"</p> + +<p>"Upon my word I am," answered the young man.</p> + +<p>"Are you in earnest?"</p> + +<p>"Why, do you want me to break my neck?"</p> + +<p>"Then make haste and get on my horse; don't be afraid, it is very +quiet. We won't delay them, they can change the saddles in a minute! +I'll try to take yours. Surely Tancred can't always be so unruly."</p> + +<p>No sooner said than done, the madcap leaped out of the saddle and was +standing before us as she finished the last sentence.</p> + +<p>"You don't know Tancred, if you think he will allow your wretched +side-saddle to be put on him! Besides, I would not let you break your +neck, it would be a pity!" said our host, at that moment of inward +gratification affecting, as his habit was, a studied brusqueness and +even coarseness of speech which he thought in keeping with a jolly good +fellow and an old soldier, and which he imagined to be particularly +attractive to the ladies. This was one of his favourite fancies, his +favourite whim, with which we were all familiar.</p> + +<p>"Well, cry-baby, wouldn't you like to have a try? You wanted so much +to go?" said the valiant horsewoman, noticing me and pointing tauntingly +at Tancred, because I had been so imprudent as to catch her eye, and she +would not let me go without a biting word, that she might not have +dismounted from her horse absolutely for nothing.</p> + +<p>"I expect you are not such a—— We all know you are a hero +and would be ashamed to be afraid; especially when you will be looked +at, you fine page," she added, with a fleeting glance at Mme. M., whose +carriage was the nearest to the entrance.</p> + +<p>A rush of hatred and vengeance had flooded my heart, when the fair +Amazon had approached us with the intention of mounting Tancred.... But +I cannot describe what I felt at this unexpected challenge from the +madcap. Everything was dark before my eyes when I saw her glance at Mme. +M. For an instant an idea flashed through my mind ... but it was only a +moment, less than a moment, like a flash of gunpowder; perhaps it was +the last straw, and I suddenly now was moved to rage as my spirit rose, +so that I longed to put all my enemies to utter confusion, and to +revenge myself on all of them and before everyone, by showing the sort +of person I was. Or whether by some miracle, some prompting from +mediæval history, of which I had known nothing till then, sent whirling +through my giddy brain, images of tournaments, paladins, heroes, lovely +ladies, the clash of swords, shouts and the applause of the crowd, and +amidst those shouts the timid cry of a frightened heart, which moves the +proud soul more sweetly than victory and fame—I don't know whether +all this romantic nonsense was in my head at the time, or whether, more +likely, only the first dawning of the inevitable nonsense that was in +store for me in the future, anyway, I felt that my hour had come. My +heart leaped and shuddered, and I don't remember how, at one bound, I +was down the steps and beside Tancred.</p> + +<p>"You think I am afraid?" I cried, boldly and proudly, in such a fever +that I could hardly see, breathless with excitement, and flushing till +the tears scalded my cheeks. "Well, you shall see!" And clutching at +Tancred's mane I put my foot in the stirrup before they had time to make +a movement to stop me; but at that instant Tancred reared, jerked his +head, and with a mighty bound forward wrenched himself out of the hands +of the petrified stable-boys, and dashed off like a hurricane, while +every one cried out in horror.</p> + +<p>Goodness knows how I got my other leg over the horse while it was in +full gallop; I can't imagine, either, how I did not lose hold of the +reins. Tancred bore me beyond the trellis gate, turned sharply to the +right and flew along beside the fence regardless of the road. Only at +that moment I heard behind me a shout from fifty voices, and that shout +was echoed in my swooning heart with such a feeling of pride and +pleasure that I shall never forget that mad moment of my boyhood. All +the blood rushed to my head, bewildering me and overpowering my fears. I +was beside myself. There certainly was, as I remember it now, something +of the knight-errant about the exploit.</p> + +<p>My knightly exploits, however, were all over in an instant or it +would have gone badly with the knight. And, indeed, I do not know how I +escaped as it was. I did know how to ride, I had been taught. But my +pony was more like a sheep than a riding horse. No doubt I should have +been thrown off Tancred if he had had time to throw me, but after +galloping fifty paces he suddenly took fright at a huge stone which lay +across the road and bolted back. He turned sharply, galloping at full +speed, so that it is a puzzle to me even now that I was not sent +spinning out of the saddle and flying like a ball for twenty feet, that +I was not dashed to pieces, and that Tancred did not dislocate his leg +by such a sudden turn. He rushed back to the gate, tossing his head +furiously, bounding from side to side as though drunk with rage, +flinging his legs at random in the air, and at every leap trying to +shake me off his back as though a tiger had leaped on him and were +thrusting its teeth and claws into his back.</p> + +<p>In another instant I should have flown off; I was falling; but +several gentlemen flew to my rescue. Two of them intercepted the way +into the open country, two others galloped up, closing in upon Tancred +so that their horses' sides almost crushed my legs, and both of them +caught him by the bridle. A few seconds later we were back at the +steps.</p> + +<p>They lifted me down from the horse, pale and scarcely breathing. I +was shaking like a blade of grass in the wind; it was the same with +Tancred, who was standing, his hoofs as it were thrust into the earth +and his whole body thrown back, puffing his fiery breath from red and +streaming nostrils, twitching and quivering all over, seeming +overwhelmed with wounded pride and anger at a child's being so bold with +impunity. All around me I heard <ins title="'cried' in the +original">cries</ins> of bewilderment, surprise, and alarm.</p> + +<p>At that moment my straying eyes caught those of Mme. M., who looked +pale and agitated, and—I can never forget that moment—in one +instant my face was flooded with colour, glowed and burned like fire; I +don't know what happened to me, but confused and frightened by my own +feelings I timidly dropped my eyes to the ground. But my glance was +noticed, it was caught, it was stolen from me. All eyes turned on Mme. +M., and finding herself unawares the centre of attention, she, too, +flushed like a child from some naïve and involuntary feeling and made an +unsuccessful effort to cover her confusion by laughing....</p> + +<p>All this, of course, was very absurd-looking from outside, but at +that moment an extremely naïve and unexpected circumstance saved me from +being laughed at by every one, and gave a special colour to the whole +adventure. The lovely persecutor who was the instigator of the whole +escapade, and who till then had been my irreconcileable foe, suddenly +rushed up to embrace and kiss me. She had hardly been able to believe +her eyes when she saw me dare to accept her challenge, and pick up the +gauntlet she had flung at me by glancing at Mme. M. She had almost died +of terror and self-reproach when I had flown off on Tancred; now, when +it was all over, and particularly when she caught the glance at Mme. M., +my confusion and my sudden flush of colour, when the romantic strain in +her frivolous little head had given a new secret, unspoken significance +to the moment—she was moved to such enthusiasm over my +"knightliness," that touched, joyful and proud of me, she rushed up and +pressed me to her bosom. She lifted the most naïve, stern-looking little +face, on which there quivered and gleamed two little crystal tears, and +gazing at the crowd that thronged about her said in a grave, earnest +voice, such as they had never heard her use before, pointing to me: +"Mais c'est très sérieux, messieurs, ne riez pas!" She did not notice +that all were standing, as though fascinated, admiring her bright +enthusiasm. Her swift, unexpected action, her earnest little face, the +simple-hearted naïveté, the unexpected feeling betrayed by the tears +that welled in her invariably laughter-loving eyes, were such a surprise +that every one stood before her as though electrified by her expression, +her rapid, fiery words and gestures. It seemed as though no one could +take his eyes off her for fear of missing that rare moment in her +enthusiastic face. Even our host flushed crimson as a tulip, and people +declared that they heard him confess afterwards that "to his shame" he +had been in love for a whole minute with his charming guest. Well, of +course, after this I was a knight, a hero.</p> + +<p>"De Lorge! Toggenburg!" was heard in the crowd.</p> + +<p>There was a sound of applause.</p> + +<p>"Hurrah for the rising generation!" added the host.</p> + +<p>"But he is coming with us, he certainly must come with us," said the +beauty; "we will find him a place, we must find him a place. He shall +sit beside me, on my knee ... but no, no! That's a mistake!..." she +corrected herself, laughing, unable to restrain her mirth at our first +encounter. But as she laughed she stroked my hand tenderly, doing all +she could to soften me, that I might not be offended.</p> + +<p>"Of course, of course," several voices chimed in; "he must go, he has +won his place."</p> + +<p>The matter was settled in a trice. The same old maid who had brought +about my acquaintance with the blonde beauty was at once besieged with +entreaties from all the younger people to remain at home and let me have +her seat. She was forced to consent, to her intense vexation, with a +smile and a stealthy hiss of anger. Her protectress, who was her usual +refuge, my former foe and new friend, called to her as she galloped off +on her spirited horse, laughing like a child, that she envied her and +would have been glad to stay at home herself, for it was just going to +rain and we should all get soaked.</p> + +<p>And she was right in predicting rain. A regular downpour came on +within an hour and the expedition was done for. We had to take shelter +for some hours in the huts of the village, and had to return home +between nine and ten in the evening in the damp mist that followed the +rain. I began to be a little feverish. At the minute when I was +starting, Mme. M. came up to me and expressed surprise that my neck was +uncovered and that I had nothing on over my jacket. I answered that I +had not had time to get my coat. She took out a pin and pinned up the +turned down collar of my shirt, took off her own neck a crimson gauze +kerchief, and put it round my neck that I might not get a sore throat. +She did this so hurriedly that I had not time even to thank her.</p> + +<p>But when we got home I found her in the little drawing-room with the +blonde beauty and the pale-faced young man who had gained glory for +horsemanship that day by refusing to ride Tancred. I went up to thank +her and give back the scarf. But now, after all my adventures, I felt +somehow ashamed. I wanted to make haste and get upstairs, there at my +leisure to reflect and consider. I was brimming over with impressions. +As I gave back the kerchief I blushed up to my ears, as usual.</p> + +<p>"I bet he would like to keep the kerchief," said the young man +laughing. "One can see that he is sorry to part with your scarf."</p> + +<p>"That's it, that's it!" the fair lady put in. "What a boy! Oh!" she +said, shaking her head with obvious vexation, but she stopped in time at +a grave glance from Mme. M., who did not want to carry the jest too +far.</p> + +<p>I made haste to get away.</p> + +<p>"Well, you are a boy," said the madcap, overtaking me in the next +room and affectionately taking me by both hands, "why, you should have +simply not returned the kerchief if you wanted so much to have it. You +should have said you put it down somewhere, and that would have been the +end of it. What a simpleton! Couldn't even do that! What a funny +boy!"</p> + +<p>And she tapped me on the chin with her finger, laughing at my having +flushed as red as a poppy.</p> + +<p>"I am your friend now, you know; am I not? Our enmity is over, isn't +it? Yes or no?"</p> + +<p>I laughed and pressed her fingers without a word.</p> + +<p>"Oh, why are you so ... why are you so pale and shivering? Have you +caught a chill?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I don't feel well."</p> + +<p>"Ah, poor fellow! That's the result of over-excitement. Do you know +what? You had better go to bed without sitting up for supper, and you +will be all right in the morning. Come along."</p> + +<p>She took me upstairs, and there was no end to the care she lavished +on me. Leaving me to undress she ran downstairs, got me some tea, and +brought it up herself when I was in bed. She brought me up a warm quilt +as well. I was much impressed and touched by all the care and attention +lavished on me; or perhaps I was affected by the whole day, the +expedition and feverishness. As I said good-night to her I hugged her +warmly, as though she were my dearest and nearest friend, and in my +exhausted state all the emotions of the day came back to me in a rush; I +almost shed tears as I nestled to her bosom. She noticed my overwrought +condition, and I believe my madcap herself was a little touched.</p> + +<p>"You are a very good boy," she said, looking at me with gentle eyes, +"please don't be angry with me. You won't, will you?"</p> + +<p>In fact, we became the warmest and truest of friends.</p> + +<p>It was rather early when I woke up, but the sun was already flooding +the whole room with brilliant light. I jumped out of bed feeling +perfectly well and strong, as though I had had no fever the day before; +indeed, I felt now unutterably joyful. I recalled the previous day and +felt that I would have given any happiness if I could at that minute +have embraced my new friend, the fair-haired beauty, again, as I had the +night before; but it was very early and every one was still asleep. +Hurriedly dressing I went out into the garden and from there into the +copse. I made my way where the leaves were thickest, where the fragrance +of the trees was more resinous, and where the sun peeped in most gaily, +rejoicing that it could penetrate the dense darkness of the foliage. It +was a lovely morning.</p> + +<p>Going on further and further, before I was aware of it I had reached +the further end of the copse and came out on the river Moskva. It flowed +at the bottom of the hill two hundred paces below. On the opposite bank +of the river they were mowing. I watched whole rows of sharp scythes +gleam all together in the sunlight at every swing of the mower and then +vanish again like little fiery snakes going into hiding; I watched the +cut grass flying on one side in dense rich swathes and being laid in +long straight lines. I don't know how long I spent in contemplation. At +last I was roused from my reverie by hearing a horse snorting and +impatiently pawing the ground twenty paces from me, in the track which +ran from the high road to the manor house. I don't know whether I heard +this horse as soon as the rider rode up and stopped there, or whether +the sound had long been in my ears without rousing me from my dreaming. +Moved by curiosity I went into the copse, and before I had gone many +steps I caught the sound of voices speaking rapidly, though in subdued +tones. I went up closer, carefully parting the branches of the bushes +that edged the path, and at once sprang back in amazement. I caught a +glimpse of a familiar white dress and a soft feminine voice resounded +like music in my heart. It was Mme. M. She was standing beside a man on +horseback who, stooping down from the saddle, was hurriedly talking to +her, and to my amazement I recognized him as N., the young man who had +gone away the morning before and over whose departure M. M. had been so +busy. But people had said at the time that he was going far away to +somewhere in the South of Russia, and so I was very much surprised at +seeing him with us again so early, and alone with Mme. M.</p> + +<p>She was moved and agitated as I had never seen her before, and tears +were glistening on her cheeks. The young man was holding her hand and +stooping down to kiss it. I had come upon them at the moment of parting. +They seemed to be in haste. At last he took out of his pocket a sealed +envelope, gave it to Mme. M., put one arm round her, still not +dismounting, and gave her a long, fervent kiss. A minute later he lashed +his horse and flew past me like an arrow. Mme. M. looked after him for +some moments, then pensively and disconsolately turned homewards. But +after going a few steps along the track she seemed suddenly to recollect +herself, hurriedly parted the bushes and walked on through the +copse.</p> + +<p>I followed her, surprised and perplexed by all that I had seen. My +heart was beating violently, as though from terror. I was, as it were, +benumbed and befogged; my ideas were shattered and turned upside down; +but I remember I was, for some reason, very sad. I got glimpses from +time to time through the green foliage of her white dress before me: I +followed her mechanically, never losing sight of her, though I trembled +at the thought that she might notice me. At last she came out on the +little path that led to the house. After waiting half a minute I, too, +emerged from the bushes; but what was my amazement when I saw lying on +the red sand of the path a sealed packet, which I recognized, from the +first glance, as the one that had been given to Mme. M. ten minutes +before.</p> + +<p>I picked it up. On both sides the paper was blank, there was no +address on it. The envelope was not large, but it was fat and heavy, as +though there were three or more sheets of notepaper in it.</p> + +<p>What was the meaning of this envelope? No doubt it would explain the +whole mystery. Perhaps in it there was said all that N. had scarcely +hoped to express in their brief, hurried interview. He had not even +dismounted.... Whether he had been in haste or whether he had been +afraid of being false to himself at the hour of parting—God only +knows....</p> + +<p>I stopped, without coming out on the path, threw the envelope in the +most conspicuous place on it, and kept my eyes upon it, supposing that +Mme. M. would notice the loss and come back and look for it. But after +waiting four minutes I could stand it no longer, I picked up my find +again, put it in my pocket, and set off to overtake Mme. M. I came upon +her in the big avenue in the garden. She was walking straight towards +the house with a swift and hurried step, though she was lost in thought, +and her eyes were on the ground. I did not know what to do. Go up to +her, give it her? That would be as good as saying that I knew +everything, that I had seen it all. I should betray myself at the first +word. And how should I look, at her? How would she look at me. I kept +expecting that she would discover her loss and return on her tracks. +Then I could, unnoticed, have flung the envelope on the path and she +would have found it. But no! We were approaching the house; she had +already been noticed....</p> + +<p>As ill-luck would have it every one had got up very early that day, +because, after the unsuccessful expedition of the evening before, they +had arranged something new, of which I had heard nothing. All were +preparing to set off, and were having breakfast in the verandah. I +waited for ten minutes, that I might not be seen with Mme. M., and +making a circuit of the garden approached the house from the other side +a long time after her. She was walking up and down the verandah with her +arms folded, looking pale and agitated, and was obviously trying her +utmost to suppress the agonizing, despairing misery which could be +plainly discerned in her eyes, her walk, her every movement. Sometimes +she went down the verandah steps and walked a few paces among the +flower-beds in the direction of the garden; her eyes were impatiently, +greedily, even incautiously, seeking something on the sand of the path +and on the floor of the verandah. There could be no doubt she had +discovered her loss and imagined she had dropped the letter somewhere +here, near the house—yes, that must be so, she was convinced of +it.</p> + +<p>Some one noticed that she was pale and agitated, and others made the +same remark. She was besieged with questions about her health and +condolences. She had to laugh, to jest, to appear lively. From time to +time she looked at her husband, who was standing at the end of the +terrace talking to two ladies, and the poor woman was overcome by the +same shudder, the same embarrassment, as on the day of his first +arrival. Thrusting my hand into my pocket and holding the letter tight +in it, I stood at a little distance from them all, praying to fate that +Mme. M. should notice me. I longed to cheer her up, to relieve her +anxiety if only by a glance; to say a word to her on the sly. But when +she did chance to look at me I dropped my eyes.</p> + +<p>I saw her distress and I was not mistaken. To this day I don't know +her secret. I know nothing but what I saw and what I have just +described. The <ins title="'intrgiue' in the original">intrigue</ins> +was not such, perhaps, as one might suppose at the first glance. Perhaps +that kiss was the kiss of farewell, perhaps it was the last slight +reward for the sacrifice made to her peace and honour. N. was going +away, he was leaving her, perhaps for ever. Even that letter I was +holding in my hand—who can tell what it contained! How can one +judge? and who can condemn? And yet there is no doubt that the sudden +discovery of her secret would have been terrible—would have been a +fatal blow for her. I still remember her face at that minute, it could +not have shown more suffering. To feel, to know, to be convinced, to +expect, as though it were one's execution, that in a quarter of an hour, +in a minute perhaps, all might be discovered, the letter might be found +by some one, picked up; there was no address on it, it might be opened, +and then.... What then? What torture could be worse than what was +awaiting her? She moved about among those who would be her judges. In +another minute their smiling flattering faces would be menacing and +merciless. She would read mockery, malice and icy contempt on those +faces, and then her life would be plunged in everlasting darkness, with +no dawn to follow.... Yes, I did not understand it then as I understand +it now. I could only have vague suspicions and misgivings, and a +heart-ache at the thought of her danger, which I could not fully +understand. But whatever lay hidden in her secret, much was expiated, if +expiation were needed, by those moments of anguish of which I was +witness and which I shall never forget.</p> + +<p>But then came a cheerful summons to set off; immediately every one +was bustling about gaily; laughter and lively chatter were heard on all +sides. Within two minutes the verandah was deserted. Mme. M. declined to +join the party, acknowledging at last that she was not well. But, thank +God, all the others set off, every one was in haste, and there was no +time to worry her with commiseration, inquiries, and advice. A few +remained at home. Her husband said a few words to her; she answered that +she would be all right directly, that he need not be uneasy, that there +was no occasion for her to lie down, that she would go into the garden, +alone ... with me ... here she glanced at me. Nothing could be more +fortunate! I flushed with pleasure, with delight; a minute later we were +on the way.</p> + +<p>She walked along the same avenues and paths by which she had returned +from the copse, instinctively remembering the way she had come, gazing +before her with her eyes fixed on the ground, looking about intently +without answering me, possibly forgetting that I was walking beside +her.</p> + +<p>But when we had already reached the place where I had picked up the +letter, and the path ended, Mme. M. suddenly stopped, and in a voice +faint and weak with misery said that she felt worse, and that she would +go home. But when she reached the garden fence she stopped again and +thought a minute; a smile of despair came on her lips, and utterly worn +out and exhausted, resigned, and making up her mind to the worst, she +turned without a word and retraced her steps, even forgetting to tell me +of her intention.</p> + +<p>My heart was torn with sympathy, and I did not know what to do.</p> + +<p>We went, or rather I led her, to the place from which an hour before +I had heard the tramp of a horse and their conversation. Here, close to +a shady elm tree, was a seat hewn out of one huge stone, about which +grew ivy, wild jasmine, and dog-rose; the whole wood was dotted with +little bridges, arbours, grottoes, and similar surprises. Mme. M. sat +down on the bench and glanced unconsciously at the marvellous view that +lay open before us. A minute later she opened her book, and fixed her +eyes upon it without reading, without turning the pages, almost +unconscious of what she was doing. It was about half-past nine. The sun +was already high and was floating gloriously in the deep, dark blue sky, +as though melting away in its own light. The mowers were by now far +away; they were scarcely visible from our side of the river; endless +ridges of mown grass crept after them in unbroken succession, and from +time to time the faintly stirring breeze wafted their fragrance to us. +The never ceasing concert of those who "sow not, neither do they reap" +and are free as the air they cleave with their sportive wings was all +about us. It seemed as though at that moment every flower, every blade +of grass was exhaling the aroma of sacrifice, was saying to its Creator, +"Father, I am blessed and happy."</p> + +<p>I glanced at the poor woman, who alone was like one dead amidst all +this joyous life; two big tears hung motionless on her lashes, wrung +from her heart by bitter grief. It was in my power to relieve and +console this poor, fainting heart, only I did not know how to approach +the subject, how to take the first step. I was in agonies. A hundred +times I was on the point of going up to her, but every time my face +glowed like fire.</p> + +<p>Suddenly a bright idea dawned upon me. I had found a way of doing it; +I revived.</p> + +<p>"Would you like me to pick you a nosegay?" I said, in such a joyful +voice that Mme M. immediately raised her head and looked at me +intently.</p> + +<p>"Yes, do," she said at last in a weak voice, with a faint smile, at +once dropping her eyes on the book again.</p> + +<p>"Or soon they will be mowing the grass here and there will be no +flowers," I cried, eagerly setting to work.</p> + +<p>I had soon picked my nosegay, a poor, simple one, I should have been +ashamed to take it indoors; but how light my heart was as I picked the +flowers and tied them up! The dog-rose and the wild jasmine I picked +closer to the seat, I knew that not far off there was a field of rye, +not yet ripe. I ran there for cornflowers; I mixed them with tall ears +of rye, picking out the finest and most golden. Close by I came upon a +perfect nest of forget-me-nots, and my nosegay was almost complete. +Farther away in the meadow there were dark-blue campanulas and wild +pinks, and I ran down to the very edge of the river to get yellow +water-lilies. At last, making my way back, and going for an instant into +the wood to get some bright green fan-shaped leaves of the maple to put +round the nosegay, I happened to come across a whole family of pansies, +close to which, luckily for me, the fragrant scent of violets betrayed +the little flower hiding in the thick lush grass and still glistening +with drops of dew. The nosegay was complete. I bound it round with fine +long grass which twisted into a rope, and I carefully lay the letter in +the centre, hiding it with the flowers, but in such a way that it could +be very easily noticed if the slightest attention were bestowed upon my +nosegay.</p> + +<p>I carried it to Mme. M.</p> + +<p>On the way it seemed to me that the letter was lying too much in +view: I hid it a little more. As I got nearer I thrust it still further +in the flowers; and finally, when I was on the spot, I suddenly poked it +so deeply into the centre of the nosegay that it could not be noticed at +all from outside. My cheeks were positively flaming. I wanted to hide my +face in my hands and run away at once, but she glanced at my flowers as +though she had completely forgotten that I had gathered them. +Mechanically, almost without looking, she held out her hand and took my +present; but at once laid it on the seat as though I had handed it to +her for that purpose and dropped her eyes to her book again, seeming +lost in thought. I was ready to cry at this mischance. "If only my +nosegay were close to her," I thought; "if only she had not forgotten +it!" I lay down on the grass not far off, put my right arm under my +head, and closed my eyes as though I were overcome by drowsiness. But I +waited, keeping my eyes fixed on her.</p> + +<p>Ten minutes passed, it seemed to me that she was getting paler and +paler ... fortunately a blessed chance came to my aid.</p> + +<p>This was a big, golden bee, brought by a kindly breeze, luckily for +me. It first buzzed over my head, and then flew up to Mme. M. She waved +it off once or twice, but the bee grew more and more persistent. At last +Mme. M. snatched up my nosegay and waved it before my face. At that +instant the letter dropped out from among the flowers and fell straight +upon the open book. I started. For some time Mme. M., mute with +amazement, stared first at the letter and then at the flowers which she +was holding in her hands, and she seemed unable to believe her eyes. All +at once she flushed, started, and glanced at me. But I caught her +movement and I shut my eyes tight, pretending to be asleep. Nothing +would have induced me to look her straight in the face at that moment. +My heart was throbbing and leaping like a bird in the grasp of some +village boy. I don't remember how long I lay with my eyes shut, two or +three minutes. At last I ventured to open them. Mme. M. was greedily +reading the letter, and from her glowing cheeks, her sparkling, tearful +eyes, her bright face, every feature of which was quivering with joyful +emotion, I guessed that there was happiness in the letter and all her +misery was dispersed like smoke. An agonizing, sweet feeling gnawed at +my heart, it was hard for me to go on pretending....</p> + +<p>I shall never forget that minute!</p> + +<p>Suddenly, a long way off, we heard voices—</p> + +<p>"Mme. M.! Natalie! Natalie!"</p> + +<p>Mme. M. did not answer, but she got up quickly from the seat, came up +to me and bent over me. I felt that she was looking straight into my +face. My eyelashes quivered, but I controlled myself and did not open my +eyes. I tried to breathe more evenly and quietly, but my heart smothered +me with its violent throbbing. Her burning breath scorched my cheeks; +she bent close down to my face as though trying to make sure. At last a +kiss and tears fell on my hand, the one which was lying on my +breast.</p> + +<p>"Natalie! Natalie! where are you," we heard again, this time quite +close.</p> + +<p>"Coming," said Mme. M., in her mellow, silvery voice, which was so +choked and quivering with tears and so subdued that no one but I could +hear that, "Coming!"</p> + +<p>But at that instant my heart at last betrayed me and seemed to send +all my blood rushing to my face. At that instant a swift, burning kiss +scalded my lips. I uttered a faint cry. I opened my eyes, but at once +the same gauze kerchief fell upon them, as though she meant to screen me +from the sun. An instant later she was gone. I heard nothing but the +sound of rapidly retreating steps. I was alone....</p> + +<p>I pulled off her kerchief and kissed it, beside myself with rapture; +for some moments I was almost frantic.... Hardly able to breathe, +leaning on my elbow on the grass, I stared unconsciously before me at +the surrounding slopes, streaked with cornfields, at the river that +flowed twisting and winding far away, as far as the eye could see, +between fresh hills and villages that gleamed like dots all over the +sunlit distance—at the dark-blue, hardly visible forests, which +seemed as though smoking at the edge of the burning sky, and a sweet +stillness inspired by the triumphant peacefulness of the picture +gradually brought calm to my troubled heart. I felt more at ease and +breathed more freely, but my whole soul was full of a dumb, sweet +yearning, as though a veil had been drawn from my eyes as though at a +foretaste of something. My frightened heart, faintly quivering with +expectation, was groping timidly and joyfully towards some conjecture +... and all at once my bosom heaved, began aching as though something +had pierced it, and tears, sweet tears, gushed from my eyes. I hid my +face in my hands, and quivering like a blade of grass, gave myself up to +the first consciousness and revelation of my heart, the first vague +glimpse of my nature. My childhood was over from that moment.</p> + +<p class="center">* * * * *</p> + +<p>When two hours later I returned home I did not find Mme. M. Through +some sudden chance she had gone back to Moscow with her husband. I never +saw her again.</p> + +<p class="p4 center"><a name="Pg258">MR. PROHARTCHIN</a></p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">a story</span></p> + +<p class="p2">In the darkest and humblest corner of Ustinya Fyodorovna's +flat lived Semyon Ivanovitch Prohartchin, a well-meaning elderly man, +who did not drink. Since Mr. Prohartchin was of a very humble grade in +the service, and received a salary strictly proportionate to his +official capacity, Ustinya Fyodorovna could not get more than five +roubles a month from him for his lodging. Some people said that she had +her own reasons for accepting him as a lodger; but, be that as it may, +as though in despite of all his detractors, Mr. Prohartchin actually +became her favourite, in an honourable and virtuous sense, of course. It +must be observed that Ustinya Fyodorovna, a very respectable woman, who +had a special partiality for meat and coffee, and found it difficult to +keep the fasts, let rooms to several other boarders who paid twice as +much as Semyon Ivanovitch, yet not being quiet lodgers, but on the +contrary all of them "spiteful scoffers" at her feminine ways and her +forlorn helplessness, stood very low in her good opinion, so that if it +had not been for the rent they paid, she would not have cared to let +them stay, nor indeed to see them in her flat at all. Semyon Ivanovitch +had become her favourite from the day when a retired, or, perhaps more +correctly speaking, discharged clerk, with a weakness for strong drink, +was carried to his last resting-place in Volkovo. Though this gentleman +had only one eye, having had the other knocked out owing, in his own +words, to his valiant behaviour; and only one leg, the other having been +broken in the same way owing to his valour; yet he had succeeded in +winning all the kindly feeling of which Ustinya Fyodorovna was capable, +and took the fullest advantage of it, and would probably have gone on +for years living as her devoted satellite and toady if he had not +finally drunk himself to death in the most pitiable way. All this had +happened at Peski, where Ustinya Fyodorovna only had three lodgers, of +whom, when she moved into a new flat and set up on a larger scale, +letting to about a dozen new boarders, Mr. Prohartchin was the only one +who remained.</p> + +<p>Whether Mr. Prohartchin had certain incorrigible defects, or whether +his companions were, every one of them, to blame, there seemed to be +misunderstandings on both sides from the first. We must observe here +that all Ustinya Fyodorovna's new lodgers without exception got on +together like brothers; some of them were in the same office; each one +of them by turns lost all his money to the others at faro, preference +and <i>bixe</i>; they all liked in a merry hour to enjoy what they +called the fizzing moments of life in a crowd together; they were fond, +too, at times of discussing lofty subjects, and though in the end things +rarely passed off without a dispute, yet as all prejudices were banished +from the whole party the general harmony was not in the least disturbed +thereby. The most remarkable among the lodgers were Mark Ivanovitch, an +intelligent and well-read man; then Oplevaniev; then Prepolovenko, also +a nice and modest person; then there was a certain Zinovy Prokofyevitch, +whose object in life was to get into aristocratic society; then there +was Okeanov, the copying clerk, who had in his time almost wrested the +distinction of prime favourite from Semyon Ivanovitch; then another +copying clerk called Sudbin; the plebeian Kantarev; there were others +too. But to all these people Semyon Ivanovitch was, as it were, not one +of themselves. No one wished him harm, of course, for all had from the +very first done Prohartchin justice, and had decided in Mark +Ivanovitch's words that he, Prohartchin, was a good and harmless fellow, +though by no means a man of the world, trustworthy, and not a flatterer, +who had, of course, his failings; but that if he were sometimes unhappy +it was due to nothing else but lack of imagination. What is more, Mr. +Prohartchin, though deprived in this way of imagination, could never +have made a particularly favourable impression from his figure or +manners (upon which scoffers are fond of fastening), yet his figure did +not put people against him. Mark Ivanovitch, who was an intelligent +person, formally undertook Semyon Ivanovitch's defence, and declared in +rather happy and flowery language that Prohartchin was an elderly and +respectable man, who had long, long ago passed the age of romance. And +so, if Semyon Ivanovitch did not know how to get on with people, it must +have been entirely his own fault.</p> + +<p>The first thing they noticed was the unmistakable parsimony and +niggardliness of Semyon Ivanovitch. That was at once observed and noted, +for Semyon Ivanovitch would never lend any one his teapot, even for a +moment; and that was the more unjust as he himself hardly ever drank +tea, but when he wanted anything drank, as a rule, rather a pleasant +decoction of wild flowers and certain medicinal herbs, of which he +always had a considerable store. His meals, too, were quite different +from the other lodgers'. He never, for instance, permitted himself to +partake of the whole dinner, provided daily by Ustinya Fyodorovna for +the other boarders. The dinner cost half a rouble; Semyon Ivanovitch +paid only twenty-five kopecks in copper, and never exceeded it, and so +took either a plate of soup with pie, or a plate of beef; most +frequently he ate neither soup nor beef, but he partook in moderation of +white bread with onion, curd, salted cucumber, or something similar, +which was a great deal cheaper, and he would only go back to his half +<ins title="missing in the original">rouble</ins> dinner when he could +stand it no longer....</p> + +<p>Here the biographer confesses that nothing would have induced him to +allude to such realistic and low details, positively shocking and +offensive to some lovers of the heroic style, if it were not that these +details exhibit one peculiarity, one characteristic, in the hero of this +story; for Mr. Prohartchin was by no means so poor as to be unable to +have regular and sufficient meals, though he sometimes made out that he +was. But he acted as he did regardless of obloquy and people's +prejudices, simply to satisfy his strange whims, and from frugality and +excessive carefulness: all this, however, will be much clearer later on. +But we will beware of boring the reader with the description of all +Semyon Ivanovitch's whims, and will omit, for instance, the curious and +very amusing description of his attire; and, in fact, if it were not for +Ustinya Fyodorovna's own reference to it we should hardly have alluded +even to the fact that Semyon Ivanovitch never could make up his mind to +send his linen to the wash, or if he ever did so it was so rarely that +in the intervals one might have completely forgotten the existence of +linen on Semyon Ivanovitch. From the landlady's evidence it appeared +that "Semyon Ivanovitch, bless his soul, poor lamb, for twenty years had +been tucked away in his corner, without caring what folks thought, for +all the days of his life on earth he was a stranger to socks, +handkerchiefs, and all such things," and what is more, Ustinya +Fyodorovna had seen with her own eyes, thanks to the decrepitude of the +screen, that the poor dear man sometimes had had nothing to cover his +bare skin.</p> + +<p>Such were the rumours in circulation after Semyon Ivanovitch's death. +But in his lifetime (and this was one of the most frequent occasions of +dissension) he could not endure it if any one, even somebody on friendly +terms with him, poked his inquisitive nose uninvited into his corner, +even through an aperture in the decrepit screen. He was a taciturn man +difficult to deal with and prone to ill health. He did not like people +to give him advice, he did not care for people who put themselves +forward either, and if any one jeered at him or gave him advice unasked, +he would fall foul of him at once, put him to shame, and settle his +business. "You are a puppy, you are a featherhead, you are not one to +give advice, so there—you mind your own business, sir. You'd +better count the stitches in your own socks, sir, so there!"</p> + +<p>Semyon Ivanovitch was a plain man, and never used the formal mode of +address to any one. He could not bear it either when some one who knew +his little ways would begin from pure sport pestering him with +questions, such as what he had in his little trunk.... Semyon Ivanovitch +had one little trunk. It stood under his bed, and was guarded like the +apple of his eye; and though every one knew that there was nothing in it +except old rags, two or three pairs of damaged boots and all sorts of +rubbish, yet Mr. Prohartchin prized his property very highly, and they +used even to hear him at one time express dissatisfaction with his old, +but still sound, lock, and talk of getting a new one of a special German +pattern with a secret spring and various complications. When on one +occasion Zinovy Prokofyevitch, carried away by the thoughtlessness of +youth, gave expression to the very coarse and unseemly idea, that Semyon +Ivanovitch was probably hiding and treasuring something in his box to +leave to his descendants, every one who happened to be by was stupefied +at the extraordinary effects of Zinovy Prokofyevitch's sally. At first +Mr. Prohartchin could not find suitable terms for such a crude and +coarse idea. For a long time words dropped from his lips quite +incoherently, and it was only after a while they made out that Semyon +Ivanovitch was reproaching Zinovy Prokofyevitch for some shabby action +in the remote past; then they realized that Semyon Ivanovitch was +predicting that Zinovy Prokofyevitch would never get into aristocratic +society, and that the tailor to whom he owed a bill for his suits would +beat him—would certainly beat him—because the puppy had not +paid him for so long; and finally, "You puppy, you," Semyon Ivanovitch +added, "here you want to get into the hussars, but you won't, I tell +you, you'll make a fool of yourself. And I tell you what, you puppy, +when your superiors know all about it they will take and make you a +copying clerk; so that will be the end of it! Do you hear, puppy?" Then +Semyon Ivanovitch subsided, but after lying down for five hours, to the +intense astonishment of every one he seemed to have reached a decision, +and began suddenly reproaching and abusing the young man again, at first +to himself and afterwards addressing Zinovy Prokofyevitch. But the +matter did not end there, and in the evening, when Mark Ivanovitch and +Prepolovenko made tea and asked Okeanov to drink it with them, Semyon +Ivanovitch got up from his bed, purposely joined them, subscribing his +fifteen or twenty kopecks, and on the pretext of a sudden desire for a +cup of tea began at great length going into the subject, and explaining +that he was a poor man, nothing but a poor man, and that a poor man like +him had nothing to save. Mr. Prohartchin confessed that he was a poor +man on this occasion, he said, simply because the subject had come up; +that the day before yesterday he had meant to borrow a rouble from that +impudent fellow, but now he should not borrow it for fear the puppy +should brag, that that was the fact of the matter, and that his salary +was such that one could not buy enough to eat, and that finally, a poor +man, as you see, he sent his sister-in-law in Tver five roubles every +month, that if he did not send his sister-in-law in Tver five roubles +every month his sister-in-law would die, and if his sister-in-law, who +was dependent on him, were dead, he, Semyon Ivanovitch, would long ago +have bought himself a new suit.... And Semyon Ivanovitch went on talking +in this way at great length about being a poor man, about his +sister-in-law and about roubles, and kept repeating the same thing over +and over again to impress it on his audience till he got into a regular +muddle and relapsed into silence. Only three days later, when they had +all forgotten about him, and no one was thinking of attacking him, he +added something in conclusion to the effect that when Zinovy +Prokofyevitch went into the hussars the impudent fellow would have his +leg cut off in the war, and then he would come with a wooden leg and +say; "Semyon Ivanovitch, kind friend, give me something to eat!" and +then Semyon Ivanovitch would not give him something to eat, and would +not look at the insolent fellow; and that's how it would be, and he +could just make the best of it.</p> + +<p>All this naturally seemed very curious and at the same time fearfully +amusing. Without much reflection, all the lodgers joined together for +further investigation, and simply from curiosity determined to make a +final onslaught on Semyon Ivanovitch <i>en masse</i>. And as Mr. +Prohartchin, too, had of late—that is, ever since he had begun +living in the same flat with them—been very fond of finding out +everything about them and asking inquisitive questions, probably for +private reasons of his own, relations sprang up between the opposed +parties without any preparation or effort on either side, as it were by +chance and of itself. To get into relations Semyon Ivanovitch always had +in reserve his peculiar, rather sly, and very ingenuous manœuvre, +of which the reader has learned something already. He would get off his +bed about tea-time, and if he saw the others gathered together in a +group to make tea he would go up to them like a quiet, sensible, and +friendly person, hand over his twenty kopecks, as he was entitled to do, +and announce that he wished to join them. Then the young men would wink +at one another, and so indicating that they were in league together +against Semyon Ivanovitch, would begin a conversation, at first strictly +proper and decorous. Then one of the wittier of the party would, <i>à +propos</i> of nothing, fall to telling them news consisting most usually +of entirely false and quite incredible details. He would say, for +instance, that some one had heard His Excellency that day telling Demid +Vassilyevitch that in his opinion married clerks were more trustworthy +than unmarried, and more suitable for promotion; for they were steady, +and that their capacities were considerably improved by marriage, and +that therefore he—that is, the speaker—in order to improve +and be better fitted for promotion, was doing his utmost to enter the +bonds of matrimony as soon as possible with a certain Fevronya +Prokofyevna. Or he would say that it had more than once been remarked +about certain of his colleagues that they were entirely devoid of social +graces and of well-bred, agreeable manners, and consequently unable to +please ladies in good society, and that, therefore, to eradicate this +defect it would be suitable to deduct something from their salary, and +with the sum so obtained, to hire a hall, where they could learn to +dance, acquire the outward signs of gentlemanliness and good-breeding, +courtesy, respect for their seniors, strength of will, a good and +grateful heart and various agreeable qualities. Or he would say that it +was being arranged that some of the clerks, beginning with the most +elderly, were to be put through an examination in all sorts of subjects +to raise their standard of culture, and in that way, the speaker would +add, all sorts of things would come to light, and certain gentlemen +would have to lay their cards on the table—in short, thousands of +similar very absurd rumours were discussed. To keep it up, every one +believed the story at once, showed interest in it, asked questions, +applied it to themselves; and some of them, assuming a despondent air, +began shaking their heads and asking every one's advice, saying what +were they to do if they were to come under it? It need hardly be said +that a man far less credulous and simple-hearted than Mr. Prohartchin +would have been puzzled and carried away by a rumour so unanimously +believed. Moreover, from all appearances, it might be safely concluded +that Semyon Ivanovitch was exceedingly stupid and slow to grasp any new +unusual idea, and that when he heard anything new, he had always first, +as it were, to chew it over and digest it, to find out the meaning, and +struggling with it in bewilderment, at last perhaps to overcome it, +though even then in a quite special manner peculiar to himself +alone....</p> + +<p>In this way curious and hitherto unexpected qualities began to show +themselves in Semyon Ivanovitch.... Talk and tittle-tattle followed, and +by devious ways it all reached the office at last, with additions. What +increased the sensation was the fact that Mr. Prohartchin, who had +looked almost exactly the same from time immemorial, suddenly, <i>à +propos</i> of nothing, wore quite a different countenance. His face was +uneasy, his eyes were timid and had a scared and rather suspicious +expression. He took to walking softly, starting and listening, and to +put the finishing touch to his new characteristics developed a passion +for investigating the truth. He carried his love of truth at last to +such a pitch as to venture, on two occasions, to inquire of Demid +Vassilyevitch himself concerning the credibility of the strange rumours +that reached him daily by dozens, and if we say nothing here of the +consequence of the action of Semyon Ivanovitch, it is for no other +reason but a sensitive regard for his reputation. It was in this way +people came to consider him as misanthropic and regardless of the +proprieties. Then they began to discover that there was a great deal +that was fantastical about him, and in this they were not altogether +mistaken, for it was observed on more than one occasion that Semyon +Ivanovitch completely forgot himself, and sitting in his seat with his +mouth open and his pen in the air, as though frozen or petrified, looked +more like the shadow of a rational being than that rational being +itself. It sometimes happened that some innocently gaping gentleman, on +suddenly catching his straying, lustreless, questioning eyes, was scared +and all of a tremor, and at once inserted into some important document +either a smudge or some quite inappropriate word. The impropriety of +Semyon Ivanovitch's behaviour embarrassed and annoyed all really +well-bred people.... At last no one could feel any doubt of the +eccentricity of Semyon Ivanovitch's mind, when one fine morning the +rumour was all over the office that Mr. Prohartchin had actually +frightened Demid Vassilyevitch himself, for, meeting him in the +corridor, Semyon Ivanovitch had been so strange and peculiar that he had +forced his superior to beat a retreat.... The news of Semyon +Ivanovitch's behaviour reached him himself at last. Hearing of it he got +up at once, made his way carefully between the chairs and tables, +reached the entry, took down his overcoat with his own hand, put it on, +went out, and disappeared for an indefinite period. Whether he was led +into this by alarm or some other impulse we cannot say, but no trace was +seen of him for a time either at home or at the office....</p> + +<p>We will not attribute Semyon Ivanovitch's fate simply to his +eccentricity, yet we must observe to the reader that our hero was a very +retiring man, unaccustomed to society, and had, until he made the +acquaintance of the new lodgers, lived in complete unbroken solitude, +and had been marked by his quietness and even a certain mysteriousness; +for he had spent all the time that he lodged at Peski lying on his bed +behind the screen, without talking or having any sort of relations with +any one. Both his old fellow-lodgers lived exactly as he did: they, too +were, somehow mysterious people and spent fifteen years lying behind +their screens. The happy, drowsy hours and days trailed by, one after +the other, in patriarchal stagnation, and as everything around them went +its way in the same happy fashion, neither Semyon Ivanovitch nor Ustinya +Fyodorovna could remember exactly when fate had brought them +together.</p> + +<p>"It may be ten years, it may be twenty, it may be even twenty-five +altogether," she would say at times to her new lodgers, "since he +settled with me, poor dear man, bless his heart!" And so it was very +natural that the hero of our story, being so unaccustomed to society was +disagreeably surprised when, a year before, he, a respectable and modest +man, had found himself, suddenly in the midst of a noisy and boisterous +crew, consisting of a dozen young fellows, his colleagues at the office, +and his new house-mates.</p> + +<p>The disappearance of Semyon Ivanovitch made no little stir in the +lodgings. One thing was that he was the favourite; another, that his +passport, which had been in the landlady's keeping, appeared to have +been accidentally mislaid. Ustinya Fyodorovna raised a howl, as was her +invariable habit on all critical occasions. She spent two days in +abusing and upbraiding the lodgers. She wailed that they had chased away +her lodger like a chicken, and all those spiteful scoffers had been the +ruin of him; and on the third day she sent them all out to hunt for the +fugitive and at all costs to bring him back, dead or alive. Towards +evening Sudbin first came back with the news that traces had been +discovered, that he had himself seen the runaway in Tolkutchy Market and +other places, had followed and stood close to him, but had not dared to +speak to him; he had been near him in a crowd watching a house on fire +in Crooked Lane. Half an hour later Okeanov and Kantarev came in and +confirmed Sudbin's story, word for word; they, too, had stood near, had +followed him quite close, had stood not more than ten paces from him, +but they also had not ventured to speak to him, but both observed that +Semyon Ivanovitch was walking with a drunken cadger. The other lodgers +were all back and together at last, and after listening attentively they +made up their minds that Prohartchin could not be far off and would not +be long in returning; but they said that they had all known beforehand +that he was about with a drunken cadger. This drunken cadger was a +thoroughly bad lot, insolent and cringing, and it seemed evident that he +had got round Semyon Ivanovitch in some way. He had turned up just a +week before Semyon Ivanovitch's disappearance in company with Remnev, +had spent a little time in the flat telling them that he had suffered in +the cause of justice, that he had formerly been in the service in the +provinces, that an inspector had come down on them, that he and his +associates had somehow suffered in a good cause, that he had come to +Petersburg and fallen at the feet of Porfiry Grigoryevitch, that he had +been got, by interest, into a department; but through the cruel +persecution of fate he had been discharged from there too, and that +afterwards through reorganization the office itself had ceased to exist, +and that he had not been included in the new revised staff of clerks +owing as much to direct incapacity for official work as to capacity for +something else quite irrelevant—all this mixed up with his passion +for justice and of course the trickery of his enemies. After finishing +his story, in the course of which Mr. Zimoveykin more than once kissed +his sullen and unshaven friend Remnev, he bowed down to all in the room +in turn, not forgetting Avdotya the servant, called them all his +benefactors, and explained that he was an undeserving, troublesome, +mean, insolent and stupid man, and that good people must not be hard on +his pitiful plight and simplicity. After begging for their kind +protection Mr. Zimoveykin showed his livelier side, grew very cheerful, +kissed Ustinya Fyodorovna's hands, in spite of her modest protests that +her hand was coarse and not like a lady's; and towards evening promised +to show the company his talent in a remarkable character dance. But next +day his visit ended in a lamentable <i>dénouement</i>. Either because +there had been too much character in the character-dance, or because he +had, in Ustinya Fyodorovna's own words, somehow "insulted her and +treated her as no lady, though she was on friendly terms with Yaroslav +Ilyitch himself, and if she liked might long ago have been an officer's +wife," Zimoveykin had to steer for home next day. He went away, came +back again, was again turned out with ignominy, then wormed his way into +Semyon Ivanovitch's good graces, robbed him incidentally of his new +breeches, and now it appeared he had led Semyon Ivanovitch astray.</p> + +<p>As soon as the landlady knew that Semyon Ivanovitch was alive and +well, and that there was no need to hunt for his passport, she promptly +left off grieving and was pacified. Meanwhile some of the lodgers +determined to give the runaway a triumphal reception; they broke the +bolt and moved away the screen from Mr. Prohartchin's bed, rumpled up +the bed a little, took the famous box, put it at the foot of the bed; +and on the bed laid the sister-in-law, that is, a dummy made up of an +old kerchief, a cap and a mantle of the landlady's, such an exact +counterfeit of a sister-in-law that it might have been mistaken for one. +Having finished their work they waited for Semyon Ivanovitch to return, +meaning to tell him that his sister-in-law had arrived from the country +and was there behind his screen, poor thing! But they waited and +waited.</p> + +<p>Already, while they waited, Mark Ivanovitch had staked and lost half +a month's salary to Prepolovenko and Kantarev; already Okeanov's nose +had grown red and swollen playing "flips on the nose" and "three cards;" +already Avdotya the servant had almost had her sleep out and had twice +been on the point of getting up to fetch the wood and light the stove, +and Zinovy Prokofyevitch, who kept running out every minute to see +whether Semyon Ivanovitch were coming, was wet to the skin; but there +was no sign of any one yet—neither Semyon Ivanovitch nor the +drunken cadger. At last every one went to bed, leaving the sister-in-law +behind the screen in readiness for any emergency; and it was not till +four o'clock that a knock was heard at the gate, but when it did come it +was so loud that it quite made up to the expectant lodgers for all the +wearisome trouble they had been through. It was he—he +himself—Semyon Ivanovitch, Mr. Prohartchin, but in such a +condition that they all cried out in dismay, and no one thought about +the sister-in-law. The lost man was unconscious. He was brought in, or +more correctly carried in, by a sopping and tattered night-cabman. To +the landlady's question where the poor dear man had got so groggy, the +cabman answered: "Why, he is not drunk and has not had a drop, that I +can tell you, for sure; but seemingly a faintness has come over him, or +some sort of a fit, or maybe he's been knocked down by a blow."</p> + +<p>They began examining him, propping the culprit against the stove to +do so more conveniently, and saw that it really was not a case of +drunkenness, nor had he had a blow, but that something else was wrong, +for Semyon Ivanovitch could not utter a word, but seemed twitching in a +sort of convulsion, and only blinked, fixing his eyes in bewilderment +first on one and then on another of the spectators, who were all attired +in night array. Then they began questioning the cabman, asking where he +had got him from. "Why, from folks out Kolomna way," he answered. "Deuce +knows what they are, not exactly gentry, but merry, rollicking +gentlemen; so he was like this when they gave him to me; whether they +had been fighting, or whether he was in some sort of a fit, goodness +knows what it was; but they were nice, jolly gentlemen!"</p> + +<p>Semyon Ivanovitch was taken, lifted high on the shoulders of two or +three sturdy fellows, and carried to his bed. When Semyon Ivanovitch on +being put in bed felt the sister-in-law, and put his feet on his sacred +box, he cried out at the top of his voice, squatted up almost on his +heels, and trembling and shaking all over, with his hands and his body +he cleared a space as far as he could in his bed, while gazing with a +tremulous but strangely resolute look at those present, he seemed as it +were to protest that he would sooner die than give up the hundredth part +of his poor belongings to any one....</p> + +<p>Semyon Ivanovitch lay for two or three days closely barricaded by the +screen, and so cut off from all the world and all its vain anxieties. +Next morning, of course, every one had forgotten about him; time, +meanwhile, flew by as usual, hour followed hour and day followed day. +The sick man's heavy, feverish brain was plunged in something between +sleep and delirium; but he lay quietly and did not moan or complain; on +the contrary he kept still and silent and controlled himself, lying low +in his bed, just as the hare lies close to the earth when it hears the +hunter. At times a long depressing stillness prevailed in the flat, a +sign that the lodgers had all gone to the office, and Semyon Ivanovitch, +waking up, could relieve his depression by listening to the bustle in +the kitchen, where the landlady was busy close by; or to the regular +flop of Avdotya's down-trodden slippers as, sighing and moaning, she +cleared away, rubbed and polished, tidying all the rooms in the flat. +Whole hours passed by in that way, drowsy, languid, sleepy, wearisome, +like the water that dripped with a regular sound from the locker into +the basin in the kitchen. At last the lodgers would arrive, one by one +or in groups, and Semyon Ivanovitch could very conveniently hear them +abusing the weather, saying they were hungry, making a noise, smoking, +quarrelling, and making friends, playing cards, and clattering the cups +as they got ready for tea. Semyon Ivanovitch mechanically made an effort +to get up and join them, as he had a right to do at tea; but he at once +sank back into drowsiness, and dreamed that he had been sitting a long +time at the tea-table, having tea with them and talking, and that Zinovy +Prokofyevitch had already seized the opportunity to introduce into the +conversation some scheme concerning sisters-in-law and the moral +relation of various worthy people to them. At this point Semyon +Ivanovitch was in haste to defend himself and reply. But the mighty +formula that flew from every tongue—"It has more than once been +observed"—cut short all his objections, and Semyon Ivanovitch +could do nothing better than begin dreaming again that to-day was the +first of the month and that he was receiving money in his office.</p> + +<p>Undoing the paper round it on the stairs, he looked about him +quickly, and made haste as fast as he could to subtract half of the +lawful wages he had received and conceal it in his boot. Then on the +spot, on the stairs, quite regardless of the fact that he was in bed and +asleep, he made up his mind when he reached home to give his landlady +what was due for board and lodging; then to buy certain necessities, and +to show any one it might concern, as it were casually and +unintentionally, that some of his salary had been deducted, that now he +had nothing left to send his sister-in-law; then to speak with +commiseration of his sister-in-law, to say a great deal about her the +next day and the day after, and ten days later to say something casually +again about her poverty, that his companions might not forget. Making +this determination he observed that Andrey Efimovitch, that +everlastingly silent, bald little man who sat in the office three rooms +from where Semyon Ivanovitch sat, and hadn't said a word to him for +twenty years, was standing on the stairs, that he, too, was counting his +silver roubles, and shaking his head, he said to him: "Money!" "If +there's no money there will be no porridge," he added grimly as he went +down the stairs, and just at the door he ended: "And I have seven +children, sir." Then the little bald man, probably equally unconscious +that he was acting as a phantom and not as a substantial reality, held +up his hand about thirty inches from the floor, and waving it +vertically, muttered that the eldest was going to school, then glancing +with indignation at Semyon Ivanovitch, as though it were Mr. +Prohartchin's fault that he was the father of seven, pulled his old hat +down over his eyes, and with a whisk of his overcoat he turned to the +left and disappeared. Semyon Ivanovitch was quite frightened, and though +he was fully convinced of his own innocence in regard to the unpleasant +accumulation of seven under one roof, yet it seemed to appear that in +fact no one else was to blame but Semyon Ivanovitch. Panic-stricken he +set off running, for it seemed to him that the bald gentleman had turned +back, was running after him, and meant to search him and take away all +his salary, insisting upon the indisputable number seven, and resolutely +denying any possible claim of any sort of sisters-in-law upon Semyon +Ivanovitch. Prohartchin ran and ran, gasping for breath.... Beside him +was running, too, an immense number of people, and all of them were +jingling their money in the tailpockets of their skimpy little +dress-coats; at last every one ran up, there was the noise of fire +engines, and whole masses of people carried him almost on their +shoulders up to that same house on fire which he had watched last time +in company with the drunken cadger. The drunken cadger—alias Mr. +Zimoveykin—was there now, too, he met Semyon Ivanovitch, made a +fearful fuss, took him by the arm, and led him into the thickest part of +the crowd. Just as then in reality, all about them was the noise and +uproar of an immense crowd of people, flooding the whole of Fontanka +Embankment between the two bridges, as well as all the surrounding +streets and alleys; just as then, Semyon Ivanovitch, in company with the +drunken cadger, was carried along behind a fence, where they were +squeezed as though in pincers in a huge timber-yard full of spectators +who had gathered from the street, from Tolkutchy Market and from all the +surrounding houses, taverns, and restaurants. Semyon Ivanovitch saw all +this and felt as he had done at the time; in the whirl of fever and +delirium all sorts of strange figures began flitting before him. He +remembered some of them. One of them was a gentleman who had impressed +every one extremely, a man seven feet high, with whiskers half a yard +long, who had been standing behind Semyon Ivanovitch's back during the +fire, and had given him encouragement from behind, when our hero had +felt something like ecstasy and had stamped as though intending thereby +to applaud the gallant work of the firemen, from which he had an +excellent view from his elevated position. Another was the sturdy lad +from whom our hero had received a shove by way of a lift on to another +fence, when he had been disposed to climb over it, possibly to save some +one. He had a glimpse, too, of the figure of the old man with a sickly +face, in an old wadded dressing-gown, tied round the waist, who had made +his appearance before the fire in a little shop buying sugar and tobacco +for his lodger, and who now, with a milk-can and a quart pot in his +hands, made his way through the crowd to the house in which his wife and +daughter were burning together with thirteen and a half roubles in the +corner under the bed. But most distinct of all was the poor, sinful +woman of whom he had dreamed more than once during his illness—she +stood before him now as she had done then, in wretched bark shoes and +rags, with a crutch and a wicker-basket on her back. She was shouting +more loudly than the firemen or the crowd, waving her crutch and her +arms, saying that her own children had turned her out and that she had +lost two coppers in consequence. The children and the coppers, the +coppers and the children, were mingled together in an utterly +incomprehensible muddle, from which every one withdrew baffled, after +vain efforts to understand. But the woman would not desist, she kept +wailing, shouting, and waving her arms, seeming to pay no attention +either to the fire up to which she had been carried by the crowd from +the street or to the people about her, or to the misfortune of +strangers, or even to the sparks and red-hot embers which were beginning +to fall in showers on the crowd standing near. At last Mr. Prohartchin +felt that a feeling of terror was coming upon him; for he saw clearly +that all this was not, so to say, an accident, and that he would not get +off scot-free. And, indeed, upon the woodstack, close to him, was a +peasant, in a torn smock that hung loose about him, with his hair and +beard singed, and he began stirring up all the people against Semyon +Ivanovitch. The crowd pressed closer and closer, the peasant shouted, +and foaming at the mouth with horror, Mr. Prohartchin suddenly realized +that this peasant was a cabman whom he had cheated five years before in +the most inhuman way, slipping away from him without paying through a +side gate and jerking up his heels as he ran as though he were barefoot +on hot bricks. In despair Mr. Prohartchin tried to speak, to scream, but +his voice failed him. He felt that the infuriated crowd was twining +round him like a many-coloured snake, strangling him, crushing him. He +made an incredible effort and awoke. Then he saw that he was on fire, +that all his corner was on fire, that his screen was on fire, that the +whole flat was on fire, together with Ustinya Fyodorovna and all her +lodgers, that his bed was burning, his pillow, his quilt, his box, and +last of all, his precious mattress. Semyon Ivanovitch jumped up, +clutched at the mattress and ran dragging it after him. But in the +landlady's room into which, regardless of decorum, our hero ran just as +he was, barefoot and in his shirt, he was seized, held tight, and +triumphantly carried back behind the screen, which meanwhile was not on +fire—it seemed that it was rather Semyon Ivanovitch's head that +was on fire—and was put back to bed. It was just as some tattered, +unshaven, ill-humoured organ-grinder puts away in his travelling box the +Punch who has been making an upset, drubbing all the other puppets, +selling his soul to the devil, and who at last ends his existence, till +the next performance, in the same box with the devil, the negroes, the +Pierrot, and Mademoiselle Katerina with her fortunate lover, the +captain.</p> + +<p>Immediately every one, old and young, surrounded Semyon Ivanovitch, +standing in a row round his bed and fastening eyes full of expectation +on the invalid. Meantime he had come to himself, but from shame or some +other feeling, began pulling up the quilt over him, apparently wishing +to hide himself under it from the attention of his sympathetic friends. +At last Mark Ivanovitch was the first to break silence, and as a +sensible man he began saying in a very friendly way that Semyon +Ivanovitch must keep calm, that it was too bad and a shame to be ill, +that only little children behaved like that, that he must get well and +go to the office. Mark Ivanovitch ended by a little joke, saying that no +regular salary had yet been fixed for invalids, and as he knew for a +fact that their grade would be very low in the service, to his thinking +anyway, their calling or condition did not promise great and substantial +advantages. In fact, it was evident that they were all taking genuine +interest in Semyon Ivanovitch's fate and were very sympathetic. But with +incomprehensible rudeness, Semyon Ivanovitch persisted in lying in bed +in silence, and obstinately pulling the quilt higher and higher over his +head. Mark Ivanovitch, however, would not be gainsaid, and restraining +his feelings, said something very honeyed to Semyon Ivanovitch again, +knowing that that was how he ought to treat a sick man. But Semyon +Ivanovitch would not feel this: on the contrary he muttered something +between his teeth with the most distrustful air, and suddenly began +glancing askance from right to left in a hostile way, as though he would +have reduced his sympathetic friends to ashes with his eyes. It was no +use letting it stop there. Mark Ivanovitch lost patience, and seeing +that the man was offended and completely exasperated, and had simply +made up his mind to be obstinate, told him straight out, without any +softening suavity, that it was time to get up, that it was no use lying +there, that shouting day and night about houses on fire, sisters-in-law, +drunken cadgers, locks, boxes and goodness knows what, was all stupid, +improper, and degrading, for if Semyon Ivanovitch did not want to sleep +himself he should not hinder other people, and please would he bear it +in mind.</p> + +<p>This speech produced its effects, for Semyon Ivanovitch, turning +promptly to the orator, articulated firmly, though in a hoarse voice, +"You hold your tongue, puppy! You idle speaker, you foul-mouthed man! Do +you hear, young dandy? Are you a prince, eh? Do you understand what I +say?"</p> + +<p>Hearing such insults, Mark Ivanovitch fired up, but realizing that he +had to deal with a sick man, magnanimously overcame his resentment and +tried to shame him out of his humour, but was cut short in that too; for +Semyon Ivanovitch observed at once that he would not allow people to +play with him for all that Mark Ivanovitch wrote poetry. Then followed a +silence of two minutes; at last recovering from his amazement Mark +Ivanovitch, plainly, clearly, in well-chosen language, but with +firmness, declared that Semyon Ivanovitch ought to understand that he +was among gentlemen, and "you ought to understand, sir, how to behave +with gentlemen."</p> + +<p>Mark Ivanovitch could on occasion speak effectively and liked to +impress his hearers, but, probably from the habit of years of silence, +Semyon Ivanovitch talked and acted somewhat abruptly; and, moreover, +when he did on occasion begin a long sentence, as he got further into it +every word seemed to lead to another word, that other word to a third +word, that third to a fourth and so on, so that his mouth seemed +brimming over; he began stuttering, and the crowding words took to +flying out in picturesque disorder. That was why Semyon Ivanovitch, who +was a sensible man, sometimes talked terrible nonsense. "You are lying," +he said now. "You booby, you loose fellow! You'll come to +want—you'll go begging, you seditious fellow, you—you +loafer. Take that, you poet!"</p> + +<p>"Why, you are still raving, aren't you, Semyon Ivanovitch?"</p> + +<p>"I tell you what," answered Semyon Ivanovitch, "fools rave, drunkards +rave, dogs rave, but a wise man acts sensibly. I tell you, you don't +know your own business, you loafer, you educated gentleman, you learned +book! Here, you'll get on fire and not notice your head's burning off. +What do you think of that?"</p> + +<p>"Why ... you mean.... How do you mean, burn my head off, Semyon +Ivanovitch?"</p> + +<p>Mark Ivanovitch said no more, for every one saw clearly that Semyon +Ivanovitch was not yet in his sober senses, but delirious.</p> + +<p>But the landlady could not resist remarking at this point that the +house in Crooked Lane had been burnt owing to a bald wench; that there +was a bald-headed wench living there, that she had lighted a candle and +set fire to the lumber room; but nothing would happen in her place, and +everything would be all right in the flats.</p> + +<p>"But look here, Semyon Ivanovitch," cried Zinovy Prokofyevitch, +losing patience and interrupting the landlady, "you old fogey, you old +crock, you silly fellow—are they making jokes with you now about +your sister-in-law or examinations in dancing? Is that it? Is that what +you think?"</p> + +<p>"Now, I tell you what," answered our hero, sitting up in bed and +making a last effort in a paroxysm of fury with his sympathetic friends. +"Who's the fool? You are the fool, a dog is a fool, you joking +gentleman. But I am not going to make jokes to please you, sir; do you +hear, puppy? I am not your servant, sir."</p> + +<p>Semyon Ivanovitch would have said something more, but he fell back in +bed helpless. His sympathetic friends were left gaping in perplexity, +for they understood now what was wrong with Semyon Ivanovitch and did +not know how to begin. Suddenly the kitchen door creaked and opened, and +the drunken cadger—alias Mr. Zimoveykin—timidly thrust in +his head, cautiously sniffing round the place as his habit was. It +seemed as though he had been expected, every one waved to him at once to +come quickly, and Zimoveykin, highly delighted, with the utmost +readiness and haste jostled his way to Semyon Ivanovitch's bedside.</p> + +<p>It was evident that Zimoveykin had spent the whole night in vigil and +in great exertions of some sort. The right side of his face was +plastered up; his swollen eyelids were wet from his running eyes, his +coat and all his clothes were torn, while the whole left side of his +attire was bespattered with something extremely nasty, possibly mud from +a puddle. Under his arm was somebody's violin, which he had been taking +somewhere to sell. Apparently they had not made a mistake in summoning +him to their assistance, for seeing the position of affairs, he +addressed the delinquent at once, and with the air of a man who knows +what he is about and feels that he has the upper hand, said: "What are +you thinking about? Get up, Senka. What are you doing, a clever chap +like you? Be sensible, or I shall pull you out of bed if you are +obstreperous. Don't be obstreperous!"</p> + +<p>This brief but forcible speech surprised them all; still more were +they surprised when they noticed that Semyon Ivanovitch, hearing all +this and seeing this person before him, was so flustered and reduced to +such confusion and dismay that he could scarcely mutter through his +teeth in a whisper the inevitable protest.</p> + +<p>"Go away, you wretch," he said. "You are a wretched +creature—you are a thief! Do you hear? Do you understand? You are +a great swell, my fine gentleman, you regular swell."</p> + +<p>"No, my boy," Zimoveykin answered emphatically, retaining all his +presence of mind, "you're wrong there, you wise fellow, you regular +Prohartchin," Zimoveykin went on, parodying Semyon Ivanovitch and +looking round gleefully. "Don't be obstreperous! Behave yourself, Senka, +behave yourself, or I'll give you away, I'll tell them all about it, my +lad, do you understand?"</p> + +<p>Apparently Semyon Ivanovitch did understand, for he started when he +heard the conclusion of the speech, and began looking rapidly about him +with an utterly desperate air.</p> + +<p>Satisfied with the effect, Mr. Zimoveykin would have continued, but +Mark Ivanovitch checked his zeal, and waiting till Semyon Ivanovitch was +still and almost calm again began judiciously impressing on the uneasy +invalid at great length that, "to harbour ideas such as he now had in +his head was, first, useless, and secondly, not only useless, but +harmful; and, in fact, not so much harmful as positively immoral; and +the cause of it all was that Semyon Ivanovitch was not only a bad +example, but led them all into temptation."</p> + +<p>Every one expected satisfactory results from this speech. Moreover by +now Semyon Ivanovitch was quite quiet and replied in measured terms. A +quiet discussion followed. They appealed to him in a friendly way, +inquiring what he was so frightened of. Semyon Ivanovitch answered, but +his answers were irrelevant. They answered him, he answered them. There +were one or two more observations on both sides and then every one +rushed into discussion, for suddenly such a strange and amazing subject +cropped up, that they did not know how to express themselves. The +argument at last led to impatience, impatience led to shouting, and +shouting even to tears; and Mark Ivanovitch went away at last foaming at +the mouth and declaring that he had never known such a blockhead. +Oplevaniev spat in disgust, Okeanov was frightened, Zinovy Prokofyevitch +became tearful, while Ustinya Fyodorovna positively howled, wailing that +her lodger was leaving them and had gone off his head, that he would +die, poor dear man, without a passport and without telling any one, +while she was a lone, lorn woman and that she would be dragged from +pillar to post. In fact, they all saw clearly at last that the seed they +had sown had yielded a hundred-fold, that the soil had been too +productive, and that in their company, Semyon Ivanovitch had succeeded +in overstraining his wits completely and in the most irrevocable manner. +Every one subsided into silence, for though they saw that Semyon +Ivanovitch was frightened, the sympathetic friends were frightened +too.</p> + +<p>"What?" cried Mark Ivanovitch; "but what are you afraid of? What have +you gone off your head about? Who's thinking about you, my good sir? +Have you the right to be afraid? Who are you? What are you? Nothing, +sir. A round nought, sir, that is what you are. What are you making a +fuss about? A woman has been run over in the street, so are you going to +be run over? Some drunkard did not take care of his pocket, but is that +any reason why your coat-tails should be cut off? A house is burnt down, +so your head is to be burnt off, is it? Is that it, sir, is that +it?"</p> + +<p>"You ... you ... you stupid!" muttered Semyon Ivanovitch, "if your +nose were cut off you would eat it up with a bit of bread and not notice +it."</p> + +<p>"I may be a dandy," shouted Mark Ivanovitch, not listening; "I may be +a regular dandy, but I have not to pass an examination to get +married—to learn dancing; the ground is firm under me, sir. Why, +my good man, haven't you room enough? Is the floor giving way under your +feet, or what?"</p> + +<p>"Well, they won't ask you, will they? They'll shut one up and that +will be the end of it?"</p> + +<p>"The end of it? That's what's up? What's your idea now, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Why, they kicked out the drunken cadger."</p> + +<p>"Yes; but you see that was a drunkard, and you are a man, and so am +I."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am a man. It's there all right one day and then it's +gone."</p> + +<p>"Gone! But what do you mean by it?"</p> + +<p>"Why, the office! The off—off—ice!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, you blessed man, but of course the office is wanted and +necessary."</p> + +<p>"It is wanted, I tell you; it's wanted to-day and it's wanted +to-morrow, but the day after to-morrow it will not be wanted. You have +heard what happened?"</p> + +<p>"Why, but they'll pay you your salary for the year, you doubting +Thomas, you man of little faith. They'll put you into another job on +account of your age."</p> + +<p>"Salary? But what if I have spent my salary, if thieves come and take +my money? And I have a sister-in-law, do you hear? A sister-in-law! You +battering-ram...."</p> + +<p>"A sister-in-law! You are a man...."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am; I am a man. But you are a well-read gentleman and a fool, +do you hear?—you battering-ram—you regular battering-ram! +That's what you are! I am not talking about your jokes; but there are +jobs such that all of a sudden they are done away with. And +Demid—do you hear?—Demid Vassilyevitch says that the post +will be done away with...."</p> + +<p>"Ah, bless you, with your Demid! You sinner, why, you know...."</p> + +<p>"In a twinkling of an eye you'll be left without a post, then you'll +just have to make the best of it."</p> + +<p>"Why, you are simply raving, or clean off your head! Tell us plainly, +what have you done? Own up if you have done something wrong! It's no use +being ashamed! Are you off your head, my good man, eh?"</p> + +<p>"He's off his head! He's gone off his head!" they all cried, and +wrung their hands in despair, while the landlady threw both her arms +round Mark Ivanovitch for fear he should tear Semyon Ivanovitch to +pieces.</p> + +<p>"You heathen, you heathenish soul, you wise man!" Zimoveykin besought +him. "Senka, you are not a man to take offence, you are a polite, +prepossessing man. You are simple, you are good ... do you hear? It all +comes from your goodness. Here I am a ruffian and a fool, I am a beggar; +but good people haven't abandoned me, no fear; you see they treat me +with respect, I thank them and the landlady. Here, you see, I bow down +to the ground to them; here, see, see, I am paying what is due to you, +landlady!" At this point Zimoveykin swung off with pedantic dignity a +low bow right down to the ground.</p> + +<p>After that Semyon Ivanovitch would have gone on talking; but this +time they would not let him, they all intervened, began entreating him, +assuring him, comforting him, and succeeded in making Semyon Ivanovitch +thoroughly ashamed of himself, and at last, in a faint voice, he asked +leave to explain himself.</p> + +<p>"Very well, then," he said, "I am prepossessing, I am quiet, I am +good, faithful and devoted; to the last drop of my blood you know ... do +you hear, you puppy, you swell? ... granted the job is going on, but you +see I am poor. And what if they take it? do you hear, you swell? Hold +your tongue and try to understand! They'll take it and that's all about +it ... it's going on, brother, and then not going on ... do you +understand? And I shall go begging my bread, do you hear?"</p> + +<p>"Senka," Zimoveykin bawled frantically, drowning the general hubbub +with his voice. "You are seditious! I'll inform against you! What are +you saying? Who are you? Are you a rebel, you sheep's head? A rowdy, +stupid man they would turn off without a character. But what are +you?"</p> + +<p>"Well, that's just it."</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"Well, there it is."</p> + +<p>"How do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Why, I am free, he's free, and here one lies and thinks...."</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"What if they say I'm seditious?"</p> + +<p>"Se—di—tious? Senka, you seditious!"</p> + +<p>"Stay," cried Mr. Prohartchin, waving his hand and interrupting the +rising uproar, "that's not what I mean. Try to understand, only try to +understand, you sheep. I am law-abiding. I am law-abiding to-day, I am +law-abiding to-morrow, and then all of a sudden they kick me out and +call me seditious."</p> + +<p>"What are you saying?" Mark Ivanovitch thundered at last, jumping up +from the chair on which he had sat down to rest, running up to the bed +and in a frenzy shaking with vexation and fury. "What do you mean? You +sheep! You've nothing to call your own. Why, are you the only person in +the world? Was the world made for you, do you suppose? Are you a +Napoleon? What are you? Who are you? Are you a Napoleon, eh? Tell me, +are you a Napoleon?"</p> + +<p>But Mr. Prohartchin did not answer this question. Not because he was +overcome with shame at being a Napoleon, and was afraid of taking upon +himself such a responsibility—no, he was incapable of disputing +further, or saying anything.... His illness had reached a crisis. Tiny +teardrops gushed suddenly from his glittering, feverish, grey eyes. He +hid his burning head in his bony hands that were wasted by illness, sat +up in bed, and sobbing, began to say that he was quite poor, that he was +a simple, unlucky man, that he was foolish and unlearned, he begged kind +folks to forgive him, to take care of him, to protect him, to give him +food and drink, not to leave him in want, and goodness knows what else +Semyon Ivanovitch said. As he uttered this appeal he looked about him in +wild terror, as though he were expecting the ceiling to fall or the +floor to give way. Every one felt his heart soften and move to pity as +he looked at the poor fellow. The landlady, sobbing and wailing like a +peasant woman at her forlorn condition, laid the invalid back in bed +with her own hands. Mark Ivanovitch, seeing the uselessness of touching +upon the memory of Napoleon, instantly relapsed into kindliness and came +to her assistance. The others, in order to do something, suggested +raspberry tea, saying that it always did good at once and that the +invalid would like it very much; but Zimoveykin contradicted them all, +saying there was nothing better than a good dose of camomile or +something of the sort. As for Zinovy Prokofyevitch, having a good heart, +he sobbed and shed tears in his remorse, for having frightened Semyon +Ivanovitch with all sorts of absurdities, and gathering from the +invalid's last words that he was quite poor and needing assistance, he +proceeded to get up a subscription for him, confining it for a time to +the tenants of the flat. Every one was sighing and moaning, every one +felt sorry and grieved, and yet all wondered how it was a man could be +so completely panic-stricken. And what was he frightened about? It would +have been all very well if he had had a good post, had had a wife, a lot +of children; it would have been excusable if he were being hauled up +before the court on some charge or other; but he was a man utterly +insignificant, with nothing but a trunk and a German lock; he had been +lying more than twenty years behind his screen, saying nothing, knowing +nothing of the world nor of trouble, saving his half-pence, and now at a +frivolous, idle word the man had actually gone off his head, was utterly +panic-stricken at the thought he might have a hard time of it.... And it +never occurred to him that every one has a hard time of it! "If he would +only take that into consideration," Okeanov said afterwards, "that we +all have a hard time, then the man would have kept his head, would have +given up his antics and would have put up with things, one way or +another."</p> + +<p>All day long nothing was talked of but Semyon Ivanovitch. They went +up to him, inquired after him, tried to comfort him; but by the evening +he was beyond that. The poor fellow began to be delirious, feverish. He +sank into unconsciousness, so that they almost thought of sending for a +doctor; the lodgers all agreed together and undertook to watch over +Semyon Ivanovitch and soothe him by turns through the night, and if +anything happened to wake all the rest immediately. With the object of +keeping awake, they sat down to cards, setting beside the invalid his +friend, the drunken cadger, who had spent the whole day in the flat and +had asked leave to stay the night. As the game was played on credit and +was not at all interesting they soon got bored. They gave up the game, +then got into an argument about something, then began to be loud and +noisy, finally dispersed to their various corners, went on for a long +time angrily shouting and wrangling, and as all of them felt suddenly +ill-humoured they no longer cared to sit up, so went to sleep. Soon it +was as still in the flat as in an empty cellar, and it was the more like +one because it was horribly cold. The last to fall asleep was Okeanov. +"And it was between sleeping and waking," as he said afterwards, "I +fancied just before morning two men kept talking close by me." Okeanov +said that he recognized Zimoveykin, and that Zimoveykin began waking his +old friend Remnev just beside him, that they talked for a long time in a +whisper; then Zimoveykin went away and could be heard trying to unlock +the door into the kitchen. The key, the landlady declared afterwards, +was lying under her pillow and was lost that night. +Finally—Okeanov testified—he had fancied he had heard them +go behind the screen to the invalid and light a candle there, "and I +know nothing more," he said, "I fell asleep, and woke up," as everybody +else did, when every one in the flat jumped out of bed at the sound +behind the screen of a shriek that would have roused the dead, and it +seemed to many of them that a candle went out at that moment. A great +hubbub arose, every one's heart stood still; they rushed pell-mell at +the shriek, but at that moment there was a scuffle, with shouting, +swearing, and fighting. They struck a light and saw that Zimoveykin and +Remnev were fighting together, that they were swearing and abusing one +another, and as they turned the light on them, one of them shouted: +"It's not me, it's this ruffian," and the other who was Zimoveykin, was +shouting: "Don't touch me, I've done nothing! I'll take my oath any +minute!" Both of them looked hardly like human beings; but for the first +minute they had no attention to spare for them; the invalid was not +where he had been behind the screen. They immediately parted the +combatants and dragged them away, and saw that Mr. Prohartchin was lying +under the bed; he must, while completely unconscious, have dragged the +quilt and pillow after him so that there was nothing left on the +bedstead but the bare mattress, old and greasy (he never had sheets). +They pulled Semyon Ivanovitch out, stretched him on the mattress, but +soon realized that there was no need to make trouble over him, that he +was completely done for; his arms were stiff, and he seemed all to +pieces. They stood over him, he still faintly shuddered and trembled all +over, made an effort to do something with his arms, could not utter a +word, but blinked his eyes as they say heads do when still warm and +bleeding, after being just chopped off by the executioner.</p> + +<p>At last the body grew more and more still; the last faint convulsions +died away. Mr. Prohartchin had set off with his good deeds and his sins. +Whether Semyon Ivanovitch had been frightened by something, whether he +had had a dream, as Remnev maintained afterwards, or there had been some +other mischief—nobody knew; all that can be said is, that if the +head clerk had made his appearance at that moment in the flat and had +announced that Semyon Ivanovitch was dismissed for sedition, +insubordination, and drunkenness; if some old draggle-tailed beggar +woman had come in at the door, calling herself Semyon Ivanovitch's +sister-in-law; or if Semyon Ivanovitch had just received two hundred +roubles as a reward; or if the house had caught fire and Semyon +Ivanovitch's head had been really burning—he would in all +probability not have deigned to stir a finger in any of these +eventualities. While the first stupefaction was passing over, while all +present were regaining their powers of speech, were working themselves +up into a fever of excitement, shouting and flying to conjectures and +suppositions; while Ustinya Fyodorovna was pulling the box from under +his bed, was rummaging in a fluster under the mattress and even in +Semyon Ivanovitch's boots; while they cross-questioned Remnev and +Zimoveykin, Okeanov, who had hitherto been the quietest, humblest, and +least original of the lodgers, suddenly plucked up all his presence of +mind and displayed all his latent talents, by taking up his hat and +under cover of the general uproar slipping out of the flat. And just +when the horrors of disorder and anarchy had reached their height in the +agitated flat, till then so tranquil, the door opened and suddenly there +descended upon them, like snow upon their heads, a personage of +gentlemanly appearance, with a severe and displeased-looking face, +behind him Yaroslav Ilyitch, behind Yaroslav Ilyitch his subordinates +and the functionaries whose duty it is to be present on such occasions, +and behind them all, much embarrassed, Mr. Okeanov. The severe-looking +personage of gentlemanly appearance went straight up to Semyon +Ivanovitch, examined him, made a wry face, shrugged his shoulders and +announced what everybody knew, that is, that the dead man was dead, only +adding that the same thing had happened a day or two ago to a gentleman +of consequence, highly respected, who had died suddenly in his sleep. +Then the personage of gentlemanly, but displeased-looking, appearance +walked away saying that they had troubled him for nothing, and took +himself off. His place was at once filled (while Remnev and Zimoveykin +were handed over to the custody of the proper functionaries), by +Yaroslav Ilyitch, who questioned some one, adroitly took possession of +the box, which the landlady was already trying to open, put the boots +back in their proper place, observing that they were all in holes and no +use, asked for the pillow to be put back, called up Okeanov, asked for +the key of the box which was found in the pocket of the drunken cadger, +and solemnly, in the presence of the proper officials, unlocked Semyon +Ivanovitch's property. Everything was displayed: two rags, a pair of +socks, half a handkerchief, an old hat, several buttons, some old soles, +and the uppers of a pair of boots, that is, all sorts of odds and ends, +scraps, rubbish, trash, which had a stale smell. The only thing of any +value was the German lock. They called up Okeanov and cross-questioned +him sternly; but Okeanov was ready to take his oath. They asked for the +pillow, they examined it; it was extremely dirty, but in other respects +it was like all other pillows. They attacked the mattress, they were +about to lift it up, but stopped for a moment's consideration, when +suddenly and quite unexpectedly something heavy fell with a clink on the +floor. They bent down and saw on the floor a screw of paper and in the +screw some dozen roubles. "A-hey!" said Yaroslav Ilyitch, pointing to a +slit in the mattress from which hair and stuffing were sticking out. +They examined the slit and found that it had only just been made with a +knife and was half a yard in length; they thrust hands into the gap and +pulled out a kitchen knife, probably hurriedly thrust in there after +slitting the mattress. Before Yaroslav Ilyitch had time to pull the +knife out of the slit and to say "A-hey!" again, another screw of money +fell out, and after it, one at a time, two half roubles, a quarter +rouble, then some small change, and an old-fashioned, solid five-kopeck +piece—all this was seized upon. At this point it was realized that +it would not be amiss to cut up the whole mattress with scissors. They +asked for scissors.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, the guttering candle lighted up a scene that would have +been extremely curious to a spectator. About a dozen lodgers were +grouped round the bed in the most picturesque costumes, all unbrushed, +unshaven, unwashed, sleepy-looking, just as they had gone to bed. Some +were quite pale, while others had drops of sweat upon their brows: some +were shuddering, while others looked feverish. The landlady, utterly +stupefied, was standing quietly with her hands folded waiting for +Yaroslav Ilyitch's good pleasure. From the stove above, the heads of +Avdotya, the servant, and the landlady's favourite cat looked down with +frightened curiosity. The torn and broken screen lay cast on the floor, +the open box displayed its uninviting contents, the quilt and pillow lay +tossed at random, covered with fluff from the mattress, and on the +three-legged wooden table gleamed the steadily growing heap of silver +and other coins. Only Semyon Ivanovitch preserved his composure, lying +calmly on the bed and seeming to have no foreboding of his ruin. When +the scissors had been brought and Yaroslav Ilyitch's assistant, wishing +to be of service, shook the mattress rather impatiently to ease it from +under the back of its owner, Semyon Ivanovitch with his habitual +civility made room a little, rolling on his side with his back to the +searchers; then at a second shake he turned on his face, finally gave +way still further, and as the last slat in the bedstead was missing, he +suddenly and quite unexpectedly plunged head downward, leaving in view +only two bony, thin, blue legs, which stuck upwards like two branches of +a charred tree. As this was the second time that morning that Mr. +Prohartchin had poked his head under his bed it at once aroused +suspicion, and some of the lodgers, headed by Zinovy Prokofyevitch, +crept under it, with the intention of seeing whether there were +something hidden there too. But they knocked their heads together for +nothing, and as Yaroslav Ilyitch shouted to them, bidding them release +Semyon Ivanovitch at once from his unpleasant position, two of the more +sensible seized each a leg, dragged the unsuspected capitalist into the +light of day and laid him across the bed. Meanwhile the hair and flock +were flying about, the heap of silver grew—and, my goodness, what +a lot there was!... Noble silver roubles, stout solid rouble and a half +pieces, pretty half rouble coins, plebeian quarter roubles, twenty +kopeck pieces, even the unpromising old crone's small fry of ten and +five kopeck silver pieces—all done up in separate bits of paper in +the most methodical and systematic way; there were curiosities also, two +counters of some sort, one napoléon d'or, one very rare coin of some +unknown kind.... Some of the roubles were of the greatest antiquity, +they were rubbed and hacked coins of Elizabeth, German kreutzers, coins +of Peter, of Catherine; there were, for instance, old fifteen-kopeck +pieces, now very rare, pierced for wearing as earrings, all much worn, +yet with the requisite number of dots ... there was even copper, but all +of that was green and tarnished.... They found one red note, but no +more. At last, when the dissection was quite over and the mattress case +had been shaken more than once without a clink, they piled all the money +on the table and set to work to count it. At the first glance one might +well have been deceived and have estimated it at a million, it was such +an immense heap. But it was not a million, though it did turn out to be +a very considerable sum—exactly 2497 roubles and a half—so +that if Zinovy Prokofyevitch's subscription had been raised the day +before there would perhaps have been just 2500 roubles. They took the +money, they put a seal on the dead man's box, they listened to the +landlady's complaints, and informed her when and where she ought to +lodge information in regard to the dead man's little debt to her. A +receipt was taken from the proper person. At that point hints were +dropped in regard to the sister-in-law; but being persuaded that in a +certain sense the sister-in-law was a myth, that is, a product of the +defective imagination with which they had more than once reproached +Semyon Ivanovitch—they abandoned the idea as useless, mischievous +and disadvantageous to the good name of Mr. Prohartchin, and so the +matter ended.</p> + +<p>When the first shock was over, when the lodgers had recovered +themselves and realized the sort of person their late companion had +been, they all subsided, relapsed into silence and began looking +distrustfully at one another. Some seemed to take Semyon Ivanovitch's +behaviour very much to heart, and even to feel affronted by it. What a +fortune! So the man had saved up like this! Not losing his composure, +Mark Ivanovitch proceeded to explain why Semyon Ivanovitch had been so +suddenly panic-stricken; but they did not listen to him. Zinovy +Prokofyevitch was very thoughtful, Okeanov had had a little to drink, +the others seemed rather crestfallen, while a little man called +Kantarev, with a nose like a sparrow's beak, left the flat that evening +after very carefully packing up and cording all his boxes and bags, and +coldly explaining to the curious that times were hard and that the terms +here were beyond his means. The landlady wailed without ceasing, +lamenting for Semyon Ivanovitch, and cursing him for having taken +advantage of her lone, lorn state. Mark Ivanovitch was asked why the +dead man had not taken his money to the bank. "He was too simple, my +good soul, he hadn't enough imagination," answered Mark Ivanovitch.</p> + +<p>"Yes, and you have been too simple, too, my good woman," Okeanov put +in. "For twenty years the man kept himself close here in your flat, and +here he's been knocked down by a feather—while you went on cooking +cabbage-soup and had no time to notice it.... Ah-ah, my good woman!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, the poor dear," the landlady went on, "what need of a bank! If +he'd brought me his pile and said to me: 'Take it, Ustinyushka, poor +dear, here is all I have, keep and board me in my helplessness, so long +as I am on earth,' then, by the holy ikon I would have fed him, I would +have given him drink, I would have looked after him. Ah, the sinner! ah, +the deceiver! He deceived me, he cheated me, a poor lone woman!"</p> + +<p>They went up to the bed again. Semyon Ivanovitch was lying properly +now, dressed in his best, though, indeed, it was his only suit, hiding +his rigid chin behind a cravat which was tied rather awkwardly, washed, +brushed, but not quite shaven, because there was no razor in the flat; +the only one, which had belonged to Zinovy Prokofyevitch, had lost its +edge a year ago and had been very profitably sold at Tolkutchy Market; +the others used to go to the barber's.</p> + +<p>They had not yet had time to clear up the disorder. The broken screen +lay as before, and exposing Semyon Ivanovitch's seclusion, seemed like +an emblem of the fact that death tears away the veil from all our +secrets, our shifty dodges and intrigues. The stuffing from the mattress +lay about in heaps. The whole room, suddenly so still, might well have +been compared by a poet to the ruined nest of a swallow, broken down and +torn to pieces by the storm, the nestlings and their mother killed, and +their warm little bed of fluff, feather and flock scattered about +them.... Semyon Ivanovitch, however, looked more like a conceited, +thievish old cock-sparrow. He kept quite quiet now, seemed to be lying +low, as though he were not guilty, as though he had had nothing to do +with the shameless, conscienceless, and unseemly duping and deception of +all these good people. He did not heed now the sobs and wailing of his +bereaved and wounded landlady. On the contrary, like a wary, callous +capitalist, anxious not to waste a minute in idleness even in the +coffin, he seemed to be wrapped up in some speculative calculation. +There was a look of deep reflection in his face, while his lips were +drawn together with a significant air, of which Semyon Ivanovitch during +his lifetime had not been suspected of being capable. He seemed, as it +were, to have grown shrewder, his right eye was, as it were, slyly +screwed up. Semyon Ivanovitch seemed wanting to say something, to make +some very important communication and explanation and without loss of +time, because things were complicated and there was not a minute to +lose.... And it seemed as though they could hear him.</p> + +<p>"What is it? Give over, do you hear, you stupid woman? Don't whine! +Go to bed and sleep it off, my good woman, do you hear? I am dead; +there's no need of a fuss now. What's the use of it, really? It's nice +to lie here.... Though I don't mean that, do you hear? You are a fine +lady, you are a regular fine lady. Understand that; here I am dead now, +but look here, what if—that is, perhaps it can't be so—but I +say what if I'm not dead, what if I get up, do you hear? What would +happen then?"</p> + +<p class="p4"> </p> +<hr class="c33" /> + +<p class="p2 center"><span class="smcap">Printed in Great Britain by +Richard Clay & Sons, Limited,<br /> brunswick st., stamford st., +s.e. 1, and bungay, suffolk</span></p> + +<p class="p4">NOVELS BY FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY</p> + +<p class="p3 smaller">Translated from the Russian by<br /> +CONSTANCE GARNETT.</p> + +<p>THE BROTHERS KARAMAZOV<br /> +THE IDIOT<br /> +THE POSSESSED<br /> +CRIME AND PUNISHMENT<br /> +THE HOUSE OF THE DEAD<br /> +THE INSULTED AND INJURED<br /> +A RAW YOUTH<br /> +THE ETERNAL HUSBAND, etc.<br /> +THE GAMBLER, etc.<br /> +WHITE NIGHTS, etc.<br /> +AN HONEST THIEF, etc. (<i>shortly</i>)<br /> +THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY (<i>in progress</i>)</p> + +<p class="p4">NOVELS BY IVAN TURGENEV</p> + +<p class="p3 smaller">Translated from the Russian by<br /> +CONSTANCE GARNETT.</p> + +<p>RUDIN<br /> +A HOUSE OF GENTLEFOLK<br /> +ON THE EVE<br /> +FATHERS AND CHILDREN<br /> +SMOKE<br /> +VIRGIN SOIL (2 vols.)<br /> +A SPORTSMAN'S SKETCHES (2 vols.)<br /> +DREAM TALES AND PROSE POEMS<br /> +THE TORRENTS OF SPRING<br /> +A LEAR OF THE STEPPES, etc.<br /> +THE DIARY OF A SUPERFLUOUS MAN, etc.<br /> +A DESPERATE CHARACTER, etc.<br /> +THE JEW, etc.</p> + +<hr class="c33" /> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">NEW YORK</span><br /> +THE MACMILLAN COMPANY</p> + +<p class="p4"></p> + +<hr /> + +<div class='tnote'> <h4>Transcriber's Notes:</h4> + +<p>The list of novels translated by Constance Garnett was moved from the +front of the book to the end. Spaces were removed from elipses when used +to separate syllables within a word, e.g., sus...pic...ion. Archaic +spelling was retained. Other changes are indicated by dotted lines under +the text. 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