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!
And what if they give me into custody? They won't dare! They'll be
afraid of the scandal. And what if Zverkov is so contemptuous that he
refuses to fight a duel? He is sure to; but in that case I'll show them ... I
will turn up at the posting station when he's setting off tomorrow, I'll
catch him by the leg, I'll pull off his coat when he gets into the carriage.
I'll get my teeth into his hand, I'll bite him. "See what lengths you can
drive a desperate man to!" He may hit me on the head and they may
belabour me from behind. I will shout to the assembled multitude:
"Look at this young puppy who is driving off to captivate the Circassian
girls after letting me spit in his face!"
Of course, after that everything will be over! The office will have
vanished off the face of the earth. I shall be arrested, I shall be tried, I
shall be dismissed from the service, thrown in prison, sent to Siberia.
Never mind! In fifteen years when they let me out of prison I will trudge
off to him, a beggar, in rags. I shall find him in some provincial town. He
will be married and happy. He will have a grown-up daughter .... I shall
say to him: "Look, monster, at my hollow cheeks and my rags! I've lost
everything--my career, my happiness, art, science, THE WOMAN I LOVED,
and all through you. Here are pistols. I have come to discharge my pistol
and ... and I ... forgive you. Then I shall fire into the air and he will
hear nothing more of me ...."
I was actually on the point of tears, though I knew perfectly well at that
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