There at the gate, in Lukerya’s presence, I explained to her, amazed as she already was by the fact of my calling her outside, that I would consider it a happiness and an honor… Second: not to be surprised at my manner and that it was at the gate: “I’m a direct man,” I said, “and I’ve looked into the circumstances of the matter.” And I wasn’t lying that I’m direct. Well, spit on it. I spoke not only decently, that is, showing a man of breeding, but also originally, and that’s the main thing. So what, is it a sin to confess it? I want to judge myself and so I do. I must speak pro and contra, and so I do. Later I also remembered it with delight, though that is stupid: I declared directly, without any embarrassment, first, that I was not especially talented, not especially intelligent, maybe not even especially kind, a rather cheap egoist (I remember that expression, I thought it up then, on my way there, and remained pleased), and that it was very, very possible that I contained in myself much that was also unpleasant in many other respects. All this was spoken with a special sort of pride—we all know how such things are said. Of course, I had taste enough, after nobly declaring my shortcomings, not to start declaring my merits, saying: “But, on the other hand, I have this, this, and that.” I could see that so far she was terribly afraid, but I didn’t soften anything, what’s more, seeing that she was afraid, I intensified it on purpose: I said directly that she would have enough to eat, but as for outfits, theaters, balls—there would be none of that, or not till later, when I’d reached my goal. This stern tone decidedly carried me away. I added, also as casually as possible, that if I’d taken such an occupation, that is, keeping this shop, it was that I had a certain goal, there was a certain circumstance… But I had the right to speak that way: I actually had such a goal and such a circumstance. Wait, gentlemen, all my life I’ve been the first to hate this pawnshop, but, as a matter of fact, though it’s ridiculous to speak in mysterious phrases to oneself, I was in fact “taking revenge on society,” really, really, really! So that her morning witticism about my “taking revenge” was unjust. That is, you see, if I had told her directly in so many words: “Yes, I’m taking revenge on society,” and she had burst out laughing, as she did that morning, it would in fact have come out ridiculous. Well, but by an indirect hint, by letting in a mysterious phrase, it turned out that one could bribe the imagination. Besides, I no longer feared anything then: I knew that the fat shopkeeper was in any case more disgusting to her and that I, standing there at the gate, was a deliverer. That I understood. Oh, man understands meanness especially well! But was it meanness? How can one judge a man here? Didn’t I already love her even then?

Wait: naturally, I didn’t say half a word to her then about being a benefactor; on the contrary, oh, on the contrary: “It’s you,” I might have said, “who are my benefactor, not I yours” So that I even put it into words, I couldn’t help myself, and it came out stupid, perhaps, because I noticed a fleeting wrinkle on her face. But on the whole I was decidedly the winner. Wait, if I’m to recall all this filth, I’ll also recall the ultimate swinishness: I was standing there, and it was stirring in my head: you’re tall, well built, well bred, and—and, finally, speaking without braggadocio, you’re not bad looking. That’s what was playing through my mind. Naturally, she said yes to me right there at the gate. But… but I must add: right there at the gate she thought for a long time before she said yes. She got so thoughtful, so thoughtful, that I already started asking: “Well, what is it?”—and even couldn’t help myself, asking with a certain chic: “Well, what is it, miss?”—adding a polite touch.

“Wait, I’m thinking.”

And her little face was so serious, so serious—that even then I might have read! And there I was feeling offended: “Can it be,” I thought, “that she’s choosing between me and the merchant?” Oh, I didn’t understand then! I didn’t understand anything, not anything! Until today I didn’t understand! I remember Lukerya ran out after me, as I was leaving, stopped me in the street, and said breathlessly: “God will reward you, sir, for taking our dear young lady, only don’t tell it to her, she’s proud.”

Proud, eh! I say I like the proud ones myself. The proud ones are especially good when… well, when one no longer doubts one’s power over them, eh? Oh, mean, clumsy man! Oh, how pleased I was! Do you know, she might, when she was standing at the gate then, thinking whether to say yes to me, and I got surprised, do you know, she might even have been thinking: “If it’s disaster either way, isn’t it better to choose the worst straight off, that is, the fat shopkeeper, let him get drunk and quickly beat me to death!” Eh? What do you think, could she have had such a thought?

And now, too, I don’t understand, now, too, I don’t understand anything! I only just said that she might have had this thought: to choose the worst of two disasters, that is, the merchant? But who was worse for her then—I or the merchant? The merchant or the pawnbroker quoting Goethe? That’s still a question! Why a question? And you don’t understand this: the answer’s lying on the table, and you say question! No, but spit on me! I’m not the point… And by the way, what is it to me now—whether I’m the point or not? That’s something I’m quite unable to decide. I’d better go to bed. I have a headache…

III

THE NOBLEST OF MEN, BUT I DON’T BELIEVE IT MYSELF

Didn’t fall asleep. How could I, some pulse was throbbing in my head. I want to take it all in, all this filth. Oh, filth! Oh, what filth I dragged her out of then! She really ought to have understood it, to have appreciated my action! I also liked various thoughts, for instance, that I was forty-one and she had just turned sixteen. This captivated me, this feeling of inequality, very sweet it was, very sweet.

I, for instance, wanted to do the wedding à l’anglaise,⁴ that is, decidedly the two of us, with perhaps two witnesses, one of them Lukerya, and then straight to the train, say, for instance, to Moscow (I happened incidentally to have business there), to a hotel, for a couple of weeks. She protested, she wouldn’t allow it, and I was forced to go visiting her aunts, honoring them as relatives from whom I was taking her. I yielded, and the aunts were rendered their due. I even gave the creatures a hundred roubles each and promised more, naturally without telling her anything about it, so as not to upset her by the meanness of the situation. The aunts at once became like silk. There was also an argument about the dowry: she had nothing, almost literally, but she also wanted nothing. I, however, succeeded in proving to her that nothing at all was not possible, and I took care of the dowry, because who else would do anything for her? Well, but spit on talking about me. My various ideas, however, I did manage to tell her then, so that she’d at least know. Even too hastily, perhaps. The main thing is that from the very first, though she tried to hold back, she threw herself to me with love, she would meet me with rapture when I came home in the evening, told me in her prattle (the charming prattle of innocence!) all about her childhood, her infancy, her parental home, her father and mother. But I immediately doused all this ecstasy at once with cold water. It was in this that my idea lay. To her raptures I responded with silence, benevolent, of course… but all the same she quickly saw that we were different, and that I was—a riddle. And I was, above all, aiming at a riddle! It was for the sake of posing a riddle, perhaps, that I did all this stupidity! First of all, sternness—so it was under sternness that I brought her into my house. In short, though I was very pleased, I set about creating a whole system then. Oh, it poured out by itself quite effortlessly. And it couldn’t have been otherwise, I had to create this system, owing to an irresistible circumstance—what am I doing, in fact, slandering myself! The system was a true one. No, listen, if you’re going to judge a man, you must know the case… Listen!