lous return of his present, could, of course, be still more offended now by all these extraordinary eccentricities or, for instance, by the appearance of Rogozhin; then, too, even without that, a man like him had already condescended too much by resolving to sit down beside Ptitsyn and Ferdyshchenko; but what the power of passion could do, could also be overcome in the end by a feeling of responsibility, a sense of duty, rank, and importance, and generally of self-respect, so that Rogozhin and his company, in his excellency's presence at any rate, were impossible.

"Ah, General," Nastasya Filippovna interrupted him as soon as he turned to her with this announcement, "I forgot! But you may be sure that I foresaw your reaction. If it's offensive to you, I won't insist on keeping you, though I'd like very much to see precisely you at my side now. In any case, I thank you very much for your acquaintance and flattering attention, but if you're afraid . . ."

"Excuse me, Nastasya Filippovna," the general cried in a fit of chivalrous magnanimity, "to whom are you talking? I'll stay beside you now out of devotion alone, and if, for instance, there is any danger . . . What's more, I confess, I'm extremely curious. My only concern was that they might ruin the rugs or break something . . . And we could do very well without them, in my opinion, Nastasya Filippovna!"

"Rogozhin himself!" announced Ferdyshchenko.

"What do you think, Afanasy Ivanovich," the general managed to whisper quickly, "hasn't she gone out of her mind? Without any allegory, that is, in a real, medical sense, eh?"

"I told you, she has always been inclined to it," Afanasy Ivanovich slyly whispered back.

"And the fever along with it . . ."

Rogozhin's company was almost the same as earlier that day; the only additions were some little old libertine, once the editor of a disreputable scandal sheet, of whom the anecdote went around that he had pawned and drunk up his gold teeth, and a retired lieutenant—decidedly the rival and competitor, in his trade and purpose, of the gentleman with the fists earlier—who was totally unknown to any of Rogozhin's people, but who had been picked up in the street, on the sunny side of Nevsky Prospect, where he was stopping passersby and asking, in Marlinsky's style,⁴² for financial assistance, under the perfidious pretext that "in his time he himself used to give petitioners fifteen roubles." The two competitors had immediately become hostile to each other. The earlier gentleman

with the fists even considered himself offended, once the "petitioner" was accepted into the company and, being taciturn by nature, merely growled now and then like a bear and looked with profound scorn upon the fawning and facetiousness of the "petitioner," who turned out to be a worldly and politic man. By the looks of him, the lieutenant promised to succeed in "the business" more by adroitness and dodging than by strength, being also of smaller stature than the fist gentleman. Delicately, without getting into an obvious argument, but boasting terribly, he had already hinted more than once at the advantages of English boxing; in short, he turned out to be a pure Westernizer.⁴³ At the word "boxing," the fist gentleman merely smiled scornfully and touchily, and without condescending, for his part, to an obvious debate with his rival, displayed now and then, silently, as if accidentally, or, better to say, exposed to view now and then, a perfectly national thing—a huge fist, sinewy, gnarled, overgrown with a sort of reddish fuzz—and everyone could see clearly that if this profoundly national thing were aptly brought down on some object, there would be nothing left but a wet spot.

Again, as earlier, none of them was "loaded" to the utmost degree, thanks to the efforts of Rogozhin himself, who all day had kept in view his visit to Nastasya Filippovna. He himself had managed to sober up almost completely, but on the other hand he was nearly befuddled from all the impressions he had endured on that outrageous day, unlike any other day in his life. Only one thing remained constantly in view for him, in his memory and in his heart, every minute, every moment. For this one thing he had spent the whole time from five o'clock in the afternoon till eleven, in boundless anguish and anxiety, dealing with the Kinders and Biskups, who also nearly went out of their minds, rushing about like mad on his business. And yet, all the same, they had managed to raise the hundred thousand in cash, which Nastasya Filippovna had hinted at in passing, mockingly and quite vaguely, at an interest which even Biskup himself, out of modesty, discussed with Kinder not aloud but only in a whisper.

As earlier, Rogozhin marched in ahead of them all, the rest advancing behind him, fully aware of their advantages, but still somewhat cowardly. Above all, and God knows why, they felt cowardly towards Nastasya Filippovna. Some of them even thought they would immediately be "chucked down the stairs." Among those who thought so, incidentally, was that fop and heartbreaker

Zalyozhev. But the others, and most of all the fist gentleman, not aloud but in their hearts, regarded Nastasya Filippovna with the profoundest contempt and even hatred, and went to her as to a siege. But the magnificent décor of the first two rooms, things they had never seen or heard of, rare furniture, paintings, an enormous statue of Venus—all this produced in them an irresistible impression of respect and even almost of fear. This, of course, prevented none of them from squeezing gradually and with insolent curiosity, despite their fear, into the drawing room behind Rogozhin; but when the fist gentleman, the "petitioner," and some of the others noticed General Epanchin among the guests, they were at first so taken aback that they even began retreating slowly into the first room. Lebedev alone was among the most emboldened and convinced, and marched in almost on a par with Rogozhin, having grasped the actual meaning of one million four hundred thousand in capital and of a hundred thousand now, right here, in the hand. It must be noted, however, that none of them, not even the all-knowing Lebedev, were quite certain in their knowledge of the extent and limits of their power and whether indeed everything was now permitted them or not. There were moments when Lebedev could have sworn it was everything, but at other moments he felt an uneasy need to remind himself, just in case, of certain encouraging and reassuring articles of the legal code.

On Rogozhin himself Nastasya Filippovna's drawing room made the opposite impression from that of all his companions. As soon as the door curtain was raised and he saw Nastasya Filippovna— all the rest ceased to exist for him, as it had in the afternoon, even more powerfully than in the afternoon. He turned pale and stopped for a moment; one could surmise that his heart was pounding terribly. Timidly and like a lost man he gazed at Nastasya Filippovna for several seconds, not taking his eyes off her. Suddenly, as if he had lost all reason and nearly staggering, he went up to the table; on his way he bumped into Ptitsyn's chair and stepped with his huge, dirty boots on the lace trimming of the silent German beauty's magnificent light blue dress; he did not apologize and did not notice. Having gone up to the table, he placed on it a strange object, with which he had also entered the drawing room, holding it out in front of him with both hands. It was a big stack of paper, about five inches high and seven inches long, wrapped firmly and closely in The Stock Market Gazette, and tied very tightly on all sides and twice crisscross with the kind of string used for tying