Fyodor Dostoevsky

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?"

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