LITMIR.BIZ

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smiling, and ready to tell me long stories. It was evident from the first glance that the man was perfectly self-possessed, and he seemed to understand human nature.

      “That cursed Foma!” I said, banging my fist on the table with fury. “I am positive that he is at the bottom of every sort of mischief here and mixed up in it all! Cursed brute!”

      “I think your anger is excessive,” Mizintchikov observed.

      “My anger excessive!” I cried, instantly firing up. “I let myself go too far this afternoon, of course, and so gave everyone a right to blame me. I know very well that I plunged in and put my foot in it on every point, and I think there is no need to tell me that! … I know, too, that that’s not the way to behave in decent society; but how could I help letting myself go? tell me that. Why, this is a madhouse, if you care to know! And … and … in fact … I am simply going away, so there.”

      “Do you smoke?” Mizintchikov asked calmly.

      “Yes.”

      “Then you will probably allow me to smoke? They won’t let me in there, and I am wretched without it. I agree,” he went on, as he lighted a cigarette, “that all this is like a madhouse; but believe me, I do not venture to criticise you, just because in your place I should perhaps be three times as excited and violent as you.”

      “And why were you not violent if you really were angry too? I remember you very cool, on the contrary, and, I confess, I even thought it strange that you did not stand up for my poor uncle, who is ready to befriend … all and everyone!”

      “You are right: he has belriended many people; but I consider it perfectly useless to stand up for him: in the first place it would be useless and even derogatory for him in a way; and in the second I should be kicked out tomorrow. And I tell you frankly my circumstances are such that to be a guest here is a great advantage for me.”

      “But I do not make the slightest claim on your frankness in regard to your circumstances … I should, however, have liked to ask, since you have been here a month …”

      “Please, do, ask anything: I am at your service,” Mizintchikov answered, hurriedly moving up a chair.

      “Well, explain this, for instance: Foma Fomitch has just refused fifteen thousand roubles which were in his hands — I saw it with my own eyes.”

      “What? Impossible!” cried Mizintchikov. “Tell me, please.”

      I told him, saying nothing about “your Excellency”, Mizintchikov listened with greedy curiosity. He positively changed countenance when the fifteen thousand were mentioned.

      “That’s smart!” he said, when he heard my story. “I really did not expect it of Foma.”

      “He did refuse the money, though! How do you explain that? Surely not by the nobility of his soul?”

      “He refused fifteen thousand to take thirty later. Though, do you know,” he added after a moment’s thought, “I doubt whether Foma had any mercenary design in it. He is not a practical man; he is a sort of poet, too, in his own way. Fifteen thousand … h’m. He would have taken the money, do you see, but he couldn’t resist the temptation to strike an attitude and give himself airs. I tell you he’s a sentimental mush, and the sloppiest old sniveller and all that, with the most unbounded vanity!”

      Mizintchikov was positively roused to anger. It was evident that he was very much annoyed and even envious. I looked at him with curiosity.

      “H’m! We may expect great changes,” he added, musing. “Now Yegor Ilyitch is ready to worship Foma. I shouldn’t wonder if he does get married now that his heart is softened,” he muttered through his teeth.

      “So you think that this abominable, unnatural marriage with that crazy fool really will come off?”

      Mizintchikov looked at me searchingly.

      “The scoundrels!” I cried emphatically.

      “There is a fairly sound idea at the back of it, though. They maintain that he ought to do something for his family.”

      “As though he hadn’t done enough for them,” I cried indignantly. “And you, you talk of there being a sound idea in marrying a vulgar fool!”

      “Of course I agree with you that she is a fool… . H’m! It’s a good thing that you are so fond of your uncle; I sympathise with him myself … though he could round off his estate finely with her fortune! They have other reasons, though; they are afraid that Yegor Ilyitch may marry that governess … do you remember, an attractive girl?”

      “But is that likely to be true? …” I asked in agitation. “It seems to me that it’s spiteful gossip. Tell me, for goodness’ sake, it interests me extremely. …”

      “Oh, he is head over ears in love with her! Only, of course, he conceals it.”

      “He conceals it? You think that he is concealing it? And she? Does she love him?’’

      “It is very likely she does. It is all to her advantage to marry him, though; she is very poor.”

      “But what grounds have you for your supposition that they love each other?”

      “Oh, you know, you can’t help seeing it; besides, I believe they meet in secret. They do say that she has illicit relations with him, in fact. Only, please, don’t repeat that. I tell you as a secret.”

      “Is it possible to believe that?” I cried. “And you, you acknowledge that you believe it?”

      “Of course I do not fully believe it, I wasn’t there. But it’s very possible, though.”

      “Very possible? Think of my uncle’s sense of honour, his noble character.”

      “I agree; but one may be carried away, with a conviction that one is going to make it right with matrimony afterwards. People often are. But, I repeat, I don’t insist on the absolute certainty of the facts, especially as they have blackened her character in all sorts of ways here; they even say that she had an intrigue with Vidoplyasov.”

      “There, you see,” I cried, “with Vidoplyasov. Why, as though it were possible! Isn’t it revolting even to listen to such a thing? Surely you can’t believe it?”

      “I tell you that I do not quite believe it,” answered Mizintchikov calmly, “but it might happen. Anything may happen in this world. I was not there, and besides, I consider it not my business. But as I see you take great interest in all this, I feel I ought to add that I really don’t put much faith in the story about Vidoplyasov. It’s all the invention of Anna Nilovna, that Miss Perepelitsyn; it’s she who has set those rumours going here out of envy because she dreamed in the past of marrying Yegor Ilyitch herself — yes, by Jove, on the ground that she is a major’s daughter. Now she is disappointed and awfully furious. But I believe I have told you all about that business now, and I confess I greatly dislike gossip, especially as we are losing precious time. I have come to ask you a trifling favour, you see.”

      “A favour? Certainly; any way in which I can be of use to you.”

      “I understand, and indeed I hope to interest you, for I see you love your uncle and take great interest in his fate in the matrimonial line; but before I ask you that favour I will ask you another, a preliminary one.”

      “What is that?”

      “I’ll tell you; perhaps you will consent to grant my chief request, and perhaps not; but in any case, before telling it you I will humbly ask you to grant one great favour, to give me your word of honour as a nobleman and a gentleman that all you hear from me shall remain a dead secret, and that you will not betray the secret in any case or for the sake of any person, and will not take advantage for your own benefit of the idea which I now find it necessary to communicate to you. Do you agree or not?”

      It was a solemn introduction. I gave my assent.

      “Well?” … I said.

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