No More Learning

. 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.

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.

"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.

"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.

"In the N---- office," I answered jerkily, with my eyes on my plate.

"And ha-ave you a go-od berth? I say, what ma-a-de you leave your
original job? "

"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.

Zverkov winced, but he tried not to notice it.

"And the remuneration? "

"What remuneration? "

"I mean, your sa-a-lary? "

"Why are you cross-examining me? " However, I told him at once what my
salary was. I turned horribly red.

"It is not very handsome," Zverkov observed majestically.

"Yes, you can't afford to dine at cafes on that," Ferfitchkin added
insolently.

"To my thinking it's very poor," Trudolyubov observed gravely.

"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.

"Oh, spare his blushes," cried Ferfitchkin, sniggering.

"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 cafe, at my own expense,
not at other people's--note that, Mr. Ferfitchkin. "

"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.

"Tha-at," I answered, feeling I had gone too far, "and I imagine it
would be better to talk of something more intelligent. "

"You intend to show off your intelligence, I suppose? "

"Don't disturb yourself, that would be quite out of place here. "

"Why are you clacking away like that, my good sir, eh? Have you gone
out of your wits in your office? "

"Enough, gentlemen, enough! " Zverkov cried, authoritatively.

"How stupid it is! " muttered Simonov.

"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. "

"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. . . . "

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.

No one paid any attention to me, and I sat crushed and humiliated.

"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 tomorrow 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! "

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!