"
"I've no money," he snapped out, and with a scornful laugh he went out
of the room.
"I've no money," he snapped out, and with a scornful laugh he went out
of the room.
Dostoevsky - Notes from Underground
I'll go this minute!
"
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!
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.
"And yet this Kolya, who has three thousand serfs, has not put in an
appearance here tonight to see you off," I cut in suddenly.
For one 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.
Trudolyubov raised his glass, as did everyone else but me.
"Your health and good luck on the journey! " he cried to Zverkov. "To
old times, to our future, hurrah! "
They all tossed off their glasses, and crowded round Zverkov to kiss
him. I did not move; my full glass stood untouched before me.
"Why, aren't you going to drink it? " roared Trudolyubov, losing
patience and turning menacingly to me.
"I want to make a speech separately, on my own account . . . and then
I'll drink it, Mr. Trudolyubov. "
"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.
"SILENCE! " cried Ferfitchkin. "Now for a display of wit! "
Zverkov waited very gravely, knowing what was coming.
"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. "
There was a general stir.
"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! "
Zverkov got up from his seat, bowed to me and said:
"I am very much obliged to you. " He was frightfully offended and
turned pale.
"Damn the fellow! " roared Trudolyubov, bringing his fist down on the
table.
"Well, he wants a punch in the face for that," squealed Ferfitchkin.
"We ought to turn him out," muttered Simonov.
"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. "
"Mr. Ferfitchkin, you will give me satisfaction tomorrow for your
words just now! " I said aloud, turning with dignity to Ferfitchkin.
"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.
"Yes, let him alone, of course! He is quite drunk," Trudolyubov said
with disgust.
"I shall never forgive myself for letting him join us," Simonov
muttered again.
"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! "
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 FIRST. 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.
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 realised 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,
TAKING NO NOTICE OF THEM. But nothing came of it: they said nothing,
and two minutes later they ceased to notice me again. It struck eleven.
"Friends," cried Zverkov getting up from the sofa, "let us all be off
now, THERE! "
"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.
"Zverkov, I beg your pardon," I said abruptly and resolutely.
"Ferfitchkin, yours too, and everyone's, everyone's: I have insulted
you all! "
"Aha! A duel is not in your line, old man," Ferfitchkin hissed
venomously.
It sent a sharp pang to my heart.
"No, it's not the duel I am afraid of, Ferfitchkin! I am ready to
fight you tomorrow, 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. "
"He is comforting himself," said Simonov.
"He's simply raving," said Trudolyubov.
"But let us pass. Why are you barring our way? What do you want? "
Zverkov answered disdainfully.
They were all flushed, their eyes were bright: they had been drinking
heavily.
"I ask for your friendship, Zverkov; I insulted you, but . . . "
"Insulted? YOU insulted ME? Understand, sir, that you never, under
any circumstances, could possibly insult ME. "
"And that's enough for you. Out of the way! " concluded Trudolyubov.
"Olympia is mine, friends, that's agreed! " cried Zverkov.
"We won't dispute your right, we won't dispute your right," the others
answered, laughing.
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.
"Simonov! give me six roubles! " I said, with desperate resolution.
He looked at me in extreme amazement, with vacant eyes. He, too, was
drunk.
"You don't mean you are coming with us? "
"Yes.
"
"I've no money," he snapped out, and with a scornful laugh he went out
of the room.
I clutched at his overcoat. It was a nightmare.
"Simonov, I saw you had money. Why do you refuse me? Am 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! "
Simonov pulled out the money and almost flung it at me.
"Take it, if you have no sense of shame! " he pronounced pitilessly, and
ran to overtake them.
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 agonising misery in my heart and
finally the waiter, who had seen and heard all and was looking
inquisitively into my face.
"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! "
V
"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! "
"You are a scoundrel," a thought flashed through my mind, "if you laugh
at this now. "
"No matter! " I cried, answering myself. "Now everything is lost! "
There was no trace to be seen of them, but that made no difference--I
knew where they had gone.
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.
"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! "
We set off. There was a perfect whirl in my head.
"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! "
The driver tugged at the reins.
"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.
"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 tomorrow, he would be bound to
consent, if only from a feeling of chivalry, and to keep the secret!
Anton Antonitch. . . . "
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 anyone on earth. But . . . .
"Get on, driver, get on, you rascal, get on! "
"Ugh, sir! " said the son of toil.
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!
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's setting off
tomorrow, 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! "
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, THE WOMAN I LOVED, 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. . . . "
I was actually on the point of tears, though I knew perfectly well at
that moment that all this was out of Pushkin's SILVIO and Lermontov's
MASQUERADE. 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.
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! "
And in my impatience I punched the sledge-driver on the back of the
neck.
"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.
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 NOW, AT ONCE,
and that NO FORCE COULD STOP IT. 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.
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 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.
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.
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 realise 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.
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. "
VI
. . . Somewhere behind a screen a clock began wheezing, as though
oppressed by something, as though someone were strangling it.
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!
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.
"And yet this Kolya, who has three thousand serfs, has not put in an
appearance here tonight to see you off," I cut in suddenly.
For one 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.
Trudolyubov raised his glass, as did everyone else but me.
"Your health and good luck on the journey! " he cried to Zverkov. "To
old times, to our future, hurrah! "
They all tossed off their glasses, and crowded round Zverkov to kiss
him. I did not move; my full glass stood untouched before me.
"Why, aren't you going to drink it? " roared Trudolyubov, losing
patience and turning menacingly to me.
"I want to make a speech separately, on my own account . . . and then
I'll drink it, Mr. Trudolyubov. "
"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.
"SILENCE! " cried Ferfitchkin. "Now for a display of wit! "
Zverkov waited very gravely, knowing what was coming.
"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. "
There was a general stir.
"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! "
Zverkov got up from his seat, bowed to me and said:
"I am very much obliged to you. " He was frightfully offended and
turned pale.
"Damn the fellow! " roared Trudolyubov, bringing his fist down on the
table.
"Well, he wants a punch in the face for that," squealed Ferfitchkin.
"We ought to turn him out," muttered Simonov.
"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. "
"Mr. Ferfitchkin, you will give me satisfaction tomorrow for your
words just now! " I said aloud, turning with dignity to Ferfitchkin.
"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.
"Yes, let him alone, of course! He is quite drunk," Trudolyubov said
with disgust.
"I shall never forgive myself for letting him join us," Simonov
muttered again.
"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! "
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 FIRST. 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.
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 realised 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,
TAKING NO NOTICE OF THEM. But nothing came of it: they said nothing,
and two minutes later they ceased to notice me again. It struck eleven.
"Friends," cried Zverkov getting up from the sofa, "let us all be off
now, THERE! "
"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.
"Zverkov, I beg your pardon," I said abruptly and resolutely.
"Ferfitchkin, yours too, and everyone's, everyone's: I have insulted
you all! "
"Aha! A duel is not in your line, old man," Ferfitchkin hissed
venomously.
It sent a sharp pang to my heart.
"No, it's not the duel I am afraid of, Ferfitchkin! I am ready to
fight you tomorrow, 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. "
"He is comforting himself," said Simonov.
"He's simply raving," said Trudolyubov.
"But let us pass. Why are you barring our way? What do you want? "
Zverkov answered disdainfully.
They were all flushed, their eyes were bright: they had been drinking
heavily.
"I ask for your friendship, Zverkov; I insulted you, but . . . "
"Insulted? YOU insulted ME? Understand, sir, that you never, under
any circumstances, could possibly insult ME. "
"And that's enough for you. Out of the way! " concluded Trudolyubov.
"Olympia is mine, friends, that's agreed! " cried Zverkov.
"We won't dispute your right, we won't dispute your right," the others
answered, laughing.
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.
"Simonov! give me six roubles! " I said, with desperate resolution.
He looked at me in extreme amazement, with vacant eyes. He, too, was
drunk.
"You don't mean you are coming with us? "
"Yes.
"
"I've no money," he snapped out, and with a scornful laugh he went out
of the room.
I clutched at his overcoat. It was a nightmare.
"Simonov, I saw you had money. Why do you refuse me? Am 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! "
Simonov pulled out the money and almost flung it at me.
"Take it, if you have no sense of shame! " he pronounced pitilessly, and
ran to overtake them.
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 agonising misery in my heart and
finally the waiter, who had seen and heard all and was looking
inquisitively into my face.
"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! "
V
"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! "
"You are a scoundrel," a thought flashed through my mind, "if you laugh
at this now. "
"No matter! " I cried, answering myself. "Now everything is lost! "
There was no trace to be seen of them, but that made no difference--I
knew where they had gone.
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.
"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! "
We set off. There was a perfect whirl in my head.
"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! "
The driver tugged at the reins.
"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.
"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 tomorrow, he would be bound to
consent, if only from a feeling of chivalry, and to keep the secret!
Anton Antonitch. . . . "
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 anyone on earth. But . . . .
"Get on, driver, get on, you rascal, get on! "
"Ugh, sir! " said the son of toil.
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!
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's setting off
tomorrow, 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! "
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, THE WOMAN I LOVED, 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. . . . "
I was actually on the point of tears, though I knew perfectly well at
that moment that all this was out of Pushkin's SILVIO and Lermontov's
MASQUERADE. 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.
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! "
And in my impatience I punched the sledge-driver on the back of the
neck.
"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.
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 NOW, AT ONCE,
and that NO FORCE COULD STOP IT. 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.
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 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.
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.
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 realise 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.
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. "
VI
. . . Somewhere behind a screen a clock began wheezing, as though
oppressed by something, as though someone were strangling it.
