WhiteNightsASentimentalStoryfromtheDiary

ofaDreamer

By

FedorMikhaïlovitchDostoïevski

FIRSTNIGHT

It was a wonderful night, such a night as is only possible whenwe areyoung, dear reader. The skywas so starry, so bright that, looking at it, onecould not help asking oneself whether ill-humoured and capricious peoplecouldliveundersuchasky.Thatisayouthfulquestiontoo,dearreader,veryyouthful,butmaytheLordputitmorefrequentlyintoyourheart!...Speakingof capricious and ill-humoured people, I cannot help recalling my moralconditionallthatday.FromearlymorningIhadbeenoppressedbyastrangedespondency.ItsuddenlyseemedtomethatIwaslonely,thateveryonewasforsakingmeandgoingawayfromme.Ofcourse,anyoneisentitledtoaskwho "every one" was. For though I had been living almost eight years inPetersburg I had hardly an acquaintance. But what did I want withacquaintances?IwasacquaintedwithallPetersburgasitwas;thatwaswhyIfeltasthoughtheywerealldesertingmewhenallPetersburgpackedupandwenttoitssummervilla.Ifeltafraidofbeingleftalone,andforthreewholedaysIwanderedaboutthetowninprofounddejection,notknowingwhattodowith myself. Whether I walked in the Nevsky, went to the Gardens orsauntered on the embankment, there was not one face of those I had beenaccustomedtomeetatthesametimeandplacealltheyear.They,ofcourse,donotknowme,butIknowthem.Iknowthemintimately,Ihavealmostmadeastudyoftheirfaces,andamdelightedwhentheyaregay,anddowncastwhentheyareunderacloud.IhavealmoststruckupafriendshipwithoneoldmanwhomImeeteveryblessedday,atthesamehourinFontanka.Suchagrave,pensivecountenance;heisalwayswhisperingtohimselfandbrandishinghisleftarm,whileinhisrighthandheholdsalonggnarledstickwithagoldknob.Heevennoticesmeandtakesawarminterestinme.IfIhappennottobeatacertaintimeinthesamespotinFontanka,Iamcertainhefeelsdisappointed.That is how it is thatwe almost bow to eachother, especiallywhenwe arebothingoodhumour.Theotherday,whenwehadnotseeneachotherfortwodaysandmetonthethird,wewereactuallytouchingourhats,but,realizingintime,droppedourhandsandpassedeachotherwithalookofinterest.

Iknow thehouses too.As Iwalkalong they seem to run forward in thestreets to look out at me from every window, and almost to say: "Good-morning!Howdoyoudo?Iamquitewell,thankGod,andIamtohaveanewstoreyinMay,"or,"Howareyou?Iambeingredecoratedto-morrow;"or,"Iwasalmostburntdownandhadsuchafright,"andsoon.Ihavemyfavouritesamongthem,somearedearfriends;oneofthemintendstobetreatedbythearchitectthissummer.Ishallgoeverydayonpurposetoseethattheoperationisnota failure.God forbid!But I shallnever forgetan incidentwithavery

pretty little house of a light pink colour. Itwas such a charming little brickhouse, it looked so hospitably at me, and so proudly at its ungainlyneighbours, thatmyheartrejoicedwheneverIhappenedtopass it.SuddenlylastweekIwalkedalongthestreet,andwhenIlookedatmyfriendIheardaplaintive,"Theyarepaintingmeyellow!"Thevillains!Thebarbarians!Theyhad sparednothing, neither columns, nor cornices, andmypoor little friendwasasyellowasacanary.Italmostmademebilious.AndtothisdayIhavenothad thecourage tovisitmypoordisfigured friend,painted thecolouroftheCelestialEmpire.

So now you understand, reader, in what sense I am acquainted with allPetersburg.

I have mentioned already that I had felt worried for three whole daysbeforeIguessedthecauseofmyuneasiness.AndIfeltillateaseinthestreet—thisonehadgoneandthatonehadgone,andwhathadbecomeoftheother?—and at home I did not feel like myself either. For two evenings I waspuzzling my brains to think what was amiss in my corner; why I felt souncomfortable in it.And in perplexity I scannedmygrimygreenwalls,myceiling covered with a spider's web, the growth of which Matrona has sosuccessfullyencouraged.Ilookedoverallmyfurniture,examinedeverychair,wonderingwhetherthetroublelaythere(forifonechairisnotstandinginthesame position as it stood the day before, I am notmyself). I looked at thewindow, but it was all in vain ... I was not a bit the better for it! I evenbethought me to send for Matrona, and was giving her some fatherlyadmonitionsinregardtothespider'swebandsluttishnessingeneral;butshesimplystaredatmeinamazementandwentawaywithoutsayingaword,sothatthespider'swebiscomfortablyhanginginitsplacetothisday.Ionlyatlastthismorningrealizedwhatwaswrong.Aie!Why,theyaregivingmetheslip and making off to their summer villas! Forgive the triviality of theexpression,butIaminnomoodforfinelanguage...foreverythingthathadbeen in Petersburg had gone orwas going away for the holidays; for everyrespectable gentleman of dignified appearancewho took a cabwas at oncetransformed,inmyeyes,intoarespectableheadofahouseholdwhoafterhisdailydutieswereover,wasmakinghiswaytothebosomofhisfamily,tothesummervilla;forallthepassers-byhadnowquiteapeculiarairwhichseemedtosaytoeveryonetheymet:"Weareonlyherefor themoment,gentlemen,and in another two hours we shall be going off to the summer villa." If awindow opened after delicate fingers, white as snow, had tapped upon thepane,andtheheadofaprettygirlwasthrustout,callingtoastreet-sellerwithpotsof flowers—atonceon thespot I fancied that thoseflowerswerebeingboughtnotsimplyinordertoenjoytheflowersandthespringinstuffytownlodgings,butbecausetheywouldallbeverysoonmovingintothecountryandcouldtaketheflowerswiththem.Whatismore,Imadesuchprogressinmy

newpeculiar sortof investigation that I coulddistinguishcorrectly from themere air of each in what summer villa he was living. The inhabitants ofKamennyandAptekarskyIslandsorofthePeterhofRoadweremarkedbythestudiedeleganceoftheirmanner,theirfashionablesummersuits,andthefinecarriagesinwhichtheydrovetotown.VisitorstoPargolovoandplacesfurtheraway impressed one at first sight by their reasonable and dignified air; thetripper toKrestovskyIslandcouldberecognizedbyhis lookof irrepressiblegaiety. If I chanced tomeet a long procession ofwaggonerswalking lazilywiththereinsintheirhandsbesidewaggonsloadedwithregularmountainsoffurniture,tables,chairs,ottomansandsofasanddomesticutensilsofallsorts,frequently with a decrepit cook sitting on the top of it all, guarding hermaster's property as though it were the apple of her eye; or if I saw boatsheavilyloadedwithhouseholdgoodscrawlingalongtheNevaorFontankatotheBlackRiver or the Islands—thewaggons and the boatsweremultipliedtenfold, a hundredfold, in my eyes. I fancied that everything was astir andmoving, everything was going in regular caravans to the summer villas. ItseemedasthoughPetersburgthreatenedtobecomeawilderness,sothatatlastIfeltashamed,mortifiedandsadthatIhadnowheretogofortheholidaysandnoreasontogoaway.Iwasreadytogoawaywitheverywaggon,todriveoffwitheverygentlemanofrespectableappearancewhotookacab;butnoone—absolutely no one—invitedme; it seemed they had forgottenme, as thoughreallyIwereastrangertothem!

Itooklongwalks,succeeding,asIusuallydid,inquiteforgettingwhereIwas, when I suddenly found myself at the city gates. Instantly I feltlighthearted,andIpassedthebarrierandwalkedbetweencultivatedfieldsandmeadows,unconsciousoffatigue,andfeelingonlyalloverasthoughaburdenwerefallingoffmysoul.Allthepassers-bygavemesuchfriendlylooksthatthey seemed almost greeting me, they all seemed so pleased at something.Theywereallsmokingcigars,everyoneofthem.AndIfeltpleasedasIneverhadbefore.ItwasasthoughIhadsuddenlyfoundmyselfinItaly—sostrongwas the effect of nature upon a half-sick townsman likeme, almost stiflingbetweencitywalls.

There is something inexpressibly touching in nature round Petersburg,when at the approach of spring she puts forth all hermight, all the powersbestowedonherbyHeaven,whenshebreaksintoleaf,decksherselfoutandspanglesherselfwithflowers....SomehowIcannothelpbeingremindedofafrail, consumptive girl, at whom one sometimes looks with compassion,sometimes with sympathetic love, whom sometimes one simply does notnotice; though suddenly in one instant she becomes, as though by chance,inexplicablylovelyandexquisite,and,impressedandintoxicated,onecannothelpaskingoneselfwhatpowermadethosesad,pensiveeyesflashwithsuchfire?Whatsummonedthebloodtothosepale,wancheeks?Whatbathedwith

passionthosesoftfeatures?Whatsetthatbosomheaving?Whatsosuddenlycalledstrength,lifeandbeautyintothepoorgirl'sface,makingitgleamwithsuchasmile,kindlewithsuchbright,sparklinglaughter?Youlookround,youseekforsomeone,youconjecture....Butthemomentpasses,andnextdayyoumeet,maybe,thesamepensiveandpreoccupiedlookasbefore,thesamepaleface,thesamemeekandtimidmovements,andevensignsofremorse,tracesof amortal anguish and regret for the fleetingdistraction....Andyougrievethat themomentarybeautyhas faded so soonnever to return, that it flasheduponyousotreacherously,sovainly,grievebecauseyouhadnoteventimetoloveher....

Andyetmynightwasbetterthanmyday!Thiswashowithappened.

I came back to the town very late, and it had struck ten as Iwas goingtowardsmylodgings.Mywaylayalongthecanalembankment,whereatthathouryounevermeetasoul. It is true thatI live inaveryremotepartof thetown.Iwalkedalongsinging,forwhenIamhappyIamalwayshummingtomyselflikeeveryhappymanwhohasnofriendoracquaintancewithwhomtosharehisjoy.SuddenlyIhadamostunexpectedadventure.

Leaningon thecanal railing stoodawomanwithherelbowson the rail,she was apparently looking with great attention at the muddy water of thecanal.Shewaswearingaverycharmingyellowhatanda jaunty littleblackmantle."She'sagirl,andIamsuresheisdark,"Ithought.Shedidnotseemtohearmyfootsteps,anddidnotevenstirwhenIpassedbywithbatedbreathandloudlythrobbingheart.

"Strange,"Ithought;"shemustbedeeplyabsorbedinsomething,"andallat once I stoppedas thoughpetrified. I heard amuffled sob.Yes! Iwasnotmistaken,thegirlwascrying,andaminutelaterIheardsobaftersob.GoodHeavens!Myheartsank.AndtimidasIwaswithwomen,yetthiswassuchamoment!... I turned, took a step towards her, and should certainly havepronouncedtheword"Madam!"ifIhadnotknownthatthatexclamationhasbeenutteredathousandtimesineveryRussiansocietynovel.Itwasonlythatreflection stoppedme.Butwhile Iwas seeking for aword, thegirl came toherself,lookedround,started,castdownhereyesandslippedbymealongtheembankment. I at once followed her; but she, divining this, left theembankment, crossed the road andwalked along the pavement. I dared notcross thestreetafterher.Myheartwas fluttering likeacapturedbird.Allatonceachancecametomyaid.

Alongthesamesideof thepavement theresuddenlycameintosight,notfarfromthegirl,agentlemanineveningdress,ofdignifiedyears,thoughbyno means of dignified carriage; he was staggering and cautiously leaningagainst thewall.Thegirl flewstraightasanarrow,with the timidhasteone

sees in all girls who do notwant any one to volunteer to accompany themhomeatnight,andnodoubtthestaggeringgentlemanwouldnothavepursuedher,ifmygoodluckhadnotpromptedhim.

Suddenly,withoutaword toanyone, thegentlemansetoffandflewfullspeed inpursuitofmyunknown lady.Shewas racing like thewind,but thestaggeringgentlemanwasovertaking—overtookher.Thegirlutteredashriek,and...Iblessmyluckfortheexcellentknottedstick,whichhappenedonthatoccasiontobeinmyrighthand.InaflashIwasontheothersideofthestreet;inaflashtheobtrusivegentlemanhadtakenin theposition,hadgraspedtheirresistibleargument,fallenbackwithoutaword,andonlywhenwewereveryfar away protested against my action in rather vigorous language. But hiswordshardlyreachedus.

"Giveme your arm," I said to the girl. "And hewon't dare to annoy usfurther."

She took my arm without a word, still trembling with excitement andterror.Oh,obtrusivegentleman!HowIblessedyouatthatmoment!Istoleaglanceather,shewasverycharminganddark—Ihadguessedright.

Onherblackeyelashestherestillglisteneda tear—fromherrecent terrororherformergrief—Idon'tknow.Buttherewasalreadyagleamofasmileonherlips.Shetoostoleaglanceatme,faintlyblushedandlookeddown.

"There,yousee;whydidyoudrivemeaway?IfIhadbeenhere,nothingwouldhavehappened...."

"ButIdidnotknowyou;Ithoughtthatyoutoo...."

"Why,doyouknowmenow?"

"Alittle!Here,forinstance,whyareyoutrembling?"

"Oh, you are right at the first guess!" I answered, delighted thatmygirlhadintelligence;thatisneveroutofplaceincompanywithbeauty."Yes,fromthe first glance you have guessed the sort of man you have to do with.Precisely;Iamshywithwomen,Iamagitated,Idon'tdenyit,asmuchsoasyouwereaminuteagowhenthatgentlemanalarmedyou.Iaminsomealarmnow.It'slikeadream,andIneverguessedeveninmysleepthatIshouldevertalkwithanywoman."

"What?Really?..."

"Yes;ifmyarmtrembles, it isbecauseithasneverbeenheldbyaprettylittlehandlikeyours.Iamacompletestrangertowomen;thatis,Ihaveneverbeenused to them.Yousee, I amalone.... Idon't evenknowhow to talk tothem.Here,Idon'tknownowwhetherIhavenotsaidsomethingsillytoyou!Tell me frankly; I assure you beforehand that I am not quick to take

offence?..."

"No,nothing,nothing,quitethecontrary.Andifyouinsistonmyspeakingfrankly,Iwilltellyouthatwomenlikesuchtimidity;andifyouwanttoknowmore,Ilikeittoo,andIwon'tdriveyouawaytillIgethome."

"Youwillmakeme,"Isaid,breathlesswithdelight,"losemytimidity,andthenfarewelltoallmychances...."

"Chances!Whatchances—ofwhat?That'snotsonice."

"Ibegyourpardon,Iamsorry,itwasaslipofthetongue;buthowcanyouexpectoneatsuchamomenttohavenodesire...."

"Tobeliked,eh?"

"Well,yes;butdo,forgoodness'sake,bekind.ThinkwhatIam!Here,Iamtwenty-sixandIhaveneverseenanyone.HowcanIspeakwell,tactfully,andto thepoint?Itwillseembetter toyouwhenIhavetoldyoueverythingopenly....Idon'tknowhowtobesilentwhenmyheartisspeaking.Well,nevermind.... Believeme, not onewoman, never, never!No acquaintance of anysort!AndIdonothingbutdreameverydaythatatlastIshallmeetsomeone.Oh,ifonlyyouknewhowoftenIhavebeeninloveinthatway...."

"How?Withwhom?..."

"Why,withnoone,withanideal,withtheoneIdreamof inmysleep.Imakeupregularromancesinmydreams.Ah,youdon'tknowme!It'strue,ofcourse, Ihavemet twoor threewomen,butwhatsortofwomenwere they?Theywerealllandladies,that....ButIshallmakeyoulaughifItellyouthatIhave several times thought of speaking, just simply speaking, to somearistocraticladyinthestreet,whensheisalone,Ineedhardlysay;speakingtoher, of course, timidly, respectfully, passionately; telling her that I amperishinginsolitude,begginghernottosendmeaway;sayingthatIhavenochanceofmakingtheacquaintanceofanywoman;impressinguponherthatitis apositiveduty forawomannot to repulse so timidaprayer fromsuchalucklessmanasme.That,infact,allIaskis,thatsheshouldsaytwoorthreesisterlywordswithsympathy,shouldnotrepulsemeatfirstsight;shouldtakemeontrustandlistentowhatIsay;shouldlaughatmeifshelikes,encourageme,saytwowordstome,onlytwowords,eventhoughwenevermeetagainafterwards!...Butyouarelaughing;however,thatiswhyIamtellingyou...."

"Don'tbevexed;Iamonlylaughingatyourbeingyourownenemy,andifyouhadtriedyouwouldhavesucceeded,perhaps,eventhoughithadbeeninthe street; the simpler thebetter....Nokind-heartedwoman,unless shewerestupidor,stillmore,vexedaboutsomethingatthemoment,couldbringherselftosendyouawaywithoutthosetwowordswhichyouaskforsotimidly....But

whatamIsaying?Ofcourseshewouldtakeyouforamadman.Iwasjudgingbymyself;Iknowagooddealaboutotherpeople'slives."

"Oh, thank you," I cried; "you don't know what you have done for menow!"

"Iamglad!Iamglad!ButtellmehowdidyoufindoutthatIwasthesortof womanwith whom ... well, whom you think worthy ... of attention andfriendship ... in fact, not a landlady as you say?Whatmade you decide tocomeuptome?"

"Whatmademe?...Butyouwerealone; thatgentlemanwastooinsolent;it'snight.Youmustadmitthatitwasaduty...."

"No,no;Imeanbefore,ontheotherside—youknowyoumeanttocomeuptome."

"Ontheotherside?ReallyIdon'tknowhowtoanswer; Iamafraid to....DoyouknowIhavebeenhappyto-day?Iwalkedalongsinging; Iwentoutintothecountry;Ihaveneverhadsuchhappymoments.You...perhapsitwasmyfancy....Forgivemeforreferringtoit;Ifanciedyouwerecrying,andI...couldnotbeartohearit...itmademyheartache....Oh,mygoodness!SurelyImightbe troubledaboutyou?Surely therewasnoharm in feelingbrotherlycompassionforyou....Ibegyourpardon,Isaidcompassion....Well,inshort,surely you would not be offended at my involuntary impulse to go up toyou?..."

"Stop, that's enough, don't talk of it," said the girl, looking down, andpressingmyhand."It'smyfaultforhavingspokenofit;butIamgladIwasnotmistakeninyou....ButhereIamhome;Imustgodownthisturning,it'stwostepsfromhere....Good-bye,thankyou!..."

"Surely ... surely you don't mean ... that we shall never see each otheragain?...Surelythisisnottobetheend?"

"Yousee,"saidthegirl,laughing,"atfirstyouonlywantedtwowords,andnow....However,Iwon'tsayanything...perhapsweshallmeet...."

"I shall come here to-morrow," I said. "Oh, forgive me, I am alreadymakingdemands...."

"Yes,youarenotverypatient...youarealmostinsisting."

"Listen, listen!" I interrupted her. "Forgive me if I tell you somethingelse....Itellyouwhat,Ican'thelpcominghereto-morrow,Iamadreamer;IhavesolittlereallifethatIlookuponsuchmomentsasthisnow,assorare,that I cannot help goingover suchmoments again inmydreams. I shall bedreamingofyouallnight,awholeweek,awholeyear.Ishallcertainlycomehere to-morrow, just here to thisplace, just at the samehour, and I shall be

happy remembering to-day.This place is dear tome already. I have alreadytwoorthreesuchplacesinPetersburg.Ionceshedtearsovermemories...likeyou....Who knows, perhaps you were weeping ten minutes ago over somememory....But,forgiveme,Ihaveforgottenmyselfagain;perhapsyouhaveoncebeenparticularlyhappyhere...."

"Verygood,"saidthegirl,"perhapsIwillcomehereto-morrow,too,atteno'clock. I see that I can't forbid you.... The fact is, I have to be here; don'timaginethatIammakinganappointmentwithyou;ItellyoubeforehandthatI have to be here onmyown account.But ...well, I tell you straight out, Idon'tmindifyoudocome.Tobeginwith,somethingunpleasantmighthappenasitdidto-day,butnevermindthat....Inshort,Ishouldsimplyliketoseeyou...tosaytwowordstoyou.Only,mind,youmustnotthinktheworseofmenow!Don'tthinkImakeappointmentssolightly....Ishouldn'tmakeitexceptthat....Butletthatbemysecret!Onlyacompactbeforehand...."

"Acompact!Speak,tellme,tellmeallbeforehand;Iagreetoanything,Iam ready for anything," I cried delighted. "I answer for myself, I will beobedient,respectful...youknowme...."

"It's justbecauseIdoknowyouthat Iaskyoutocometo-morrow,"saidthe girl, laughing. "I know you perfectly. But mind you will come on thecondition, in the first place (only be good, dowhat I ask—you see, I speakfrankly),youwon'tfallinlovewithme....That'simpossible,Iassureyou.Iamreadyforfriendship;here'smyhand....Butyoumustn'tfallinlovewithme,Ibegyou!"

"Iswear,"Icried,grippingherhand....

"Hush,don'tswear,Iknowyouarereadytoflareuplikegunpowder.Don'tthinkillofmeforsayingso.Ifonlyyouknew....I,too,havenoonetowhomIcansayaword,whoseadviceIcanask.Ofcourse,onedoesnotlookforanadviserinthestreet;butyouareanexception.Iknowyouasthoughwehadbeenfriendsfortwentyyears....Youwon'tdeceiveme,willyou?..."

"Youwillsee...theonlythingis,Idon'tknowhowIamgoingtosurvivethenexttwenty-fourhours."

"Sleepsoundly.Good-night,andrememberthatIhavetrustedyoualready.Butyouexclaimedsonicelyjustnow,'Surelyonecan'tbeheldresponsibleforeveryfeeling,evenforbrotherlysympathy!'Doyouknow,thatwassonicelysaid,thattheideastruckmeatonce,thatImightconfideinyou?"

"ForGod'ssakedo;butaboutwhat?Whatisit?"

"Wait till to-morrow.Meanwhile, let thatbea secret.Somuch thebetterforyou; itwillgive ita faint flavourof romance.PerhapsIwill tellyou to-

morrow,andperhapsnot....Iwilltalktoyoualittlemorebeforehand;wewillgettoknoweachotherbetter...."

"Oh yes, I will tell you all about myself to-morrow! But what hashappened?Itisasthoughamiraclehadbefallenme....MyGod,whereamI?Come, tellmearen'tyouglad thatyouwerenotangryanddidnotdrivemeaway at the first moment, as any other woman would have done? In twominutesyouhavemademehappyforever.Yes,happy;whoknows,perhaps,you have reconciled me with myself, solved my doubts!... Perhaps suchmomentscomeuponme....ButthereIwilltellyouallaboutitto-morrow,youshallknoweverything,everything...."

"Verywell,Iconsent;youshallbegin...."

"Agreed."

"Good-byetillto-morrow!"

"Tillto-morrow!"

Andweparted.Iwalkedaboutallnight;Icouldnotmakeupmymindtogohome.Iwassohappy....To-morrow!

SECONDNIGHT

"Well,soyouhavesurvived!"shesaid,pressingbothmyhands.

"I'vebeenhereforthelasttwohours;youdon'tknowwhatastateIhavebeeninallday."

"Iknow,Iknow.Buttobusiness.DoyouknowwhyIhavecome?Nottotalk nonsense, as I did yesterday. I tell you what, we must behave moresensiblyinfuture.Ithoughtagreatdealaboutitlastnight."

"Inwhatway—inwhatmustwebemoresensible?Iamreadyformypart;but, really, nothingmore sensible has happened tome inmy life than this,now."

"Really?Inthefirstplace,Ibegyounottosqueezemyhandsso;secondly,ImusttellyouthatIspentalongtimethinkingaboutyouandfeelingdoubtfulto-day."

"Andhowdiditend?"

"Howdid it end?The upshot of it is thatwemust begin all over again,becausetheconclusionIreachedto-daywasthatIdon'tknowyouatall;thatIbehavedlikeababylastnight,likealittlegirl;and,ofcourse,thefactofitis,

thatit'smysoftheartthatistoblame—thatis,Isangmyownpraises,asonealways does in the end when one analyses one's conduct. And therefore tocorrectmymistake,I'vemadeupmymindtofindoutallaboutyouminutely.But as I havenoone fromwhom I can findout anything,youmust tellmeeverythingfullyyourself.Well,whatsortofmanareyou?Come,makehaste—begin—tellmeyourwholehistory."

"Myhistory!"Icriedinalarm."Myhistory!ButwhohastoldyouIhaveahistory?Ihavenohistory...."

"Then how have you lived, if you have no history?" she interrupted,laughing.

"Absolutelywithoutanyhistory!Ihavelived,astheysay,keepingmyselftomyself, that is,utterlyalone—alone,entirelyalone.Doyouknowwhat itmeanstobealone?"

"Buthowalone?Doyoumeanyouneversawanyone?"

"Ohno,Iseepeople,ofcourse;butstillIamalone."

"Why,doyounevertalktoanyone?"

"Strictlyspeaking,withnoone."

"Whoareyou then?Explainyourself!Stay, Iguess:most likely, likemeyouhaveagrandmother.Sheisblindandwillneverletmegoanywhere,sothatIhavealmostforgottenhowtotalk;andwhenIplayedsomeprankstwoyears ago, and she saw there was no holdingme in, she calledme up andpinnedmydresstohers,andeversincewesitlikethatfordaystogether;sheknitsastocking,thoughshe'sblind,andIsitbesideher,seworreadaloudtoher—it'ssuchaqueerhabit,herefortwoyearsI'vebeenpinnedtoher...."

"GoodHeavens!whatmisery!Butno,Ihaven'tagrandmotherlikethat."

"Well,ifyouhaven'twhydoyousitathome?..."

"Listen,doyouwanttoknowthesortofmanIam?"

"Yes,yes!"

"Inthestrictsenseoftheword?"

"Intheverystrictestsenseoftheword."

"Verywell,Iamatype!"

"Type,type!Whatsortoftype?"criedthegirl,laughing,asthoughshehadnothadachanceoflaughingforawholeyear."Yes,it'sveryamusingtalkingtoyou.Look,here'saseat,letussitdown.Nooneispassinghere,noonewillhearus,and—beginyourhistory.Forit'snogoodyourtellingme,Iknowyou

haveahistory;onlyyouareconcealingit.Tobeginwith,whatisatype?"

"Atype?Atypeisanoriginal,it'sanabsurdperson!"Isaid,infectedbyherchildish laughter. "It's a character. Listen; do you knowwhat ismeant by adreamer?"

"A dreamer! Indeed I should think I do know. I am a dreamer myself.Sometimes, as I sit by grandmother, all sorts of things come intomy head.Why,when one begins dreaming one lets one's fancy run awaywith one—why, I marry a Chinese Prince!... Though sometimes it is a good thing todream!But,goodnessknows!Especiallywhenonehassomethingtothinkofapartfromdreams,"addedthegirl,thistimeratherseriously.

"Excellent!IfyouhavebeenmarriedtoaChineseEmperor,youwillquiteunderstandme.Come,listen....Butoneminute,Idon'tknowyournameyet."

"Atlast!Youhavebeeninnohurrytothinkofit!"

"Oh, my goodness! It never entered my head, I felt quite happy as itwas...."

"MynameisNastenka."

"Nastenka!Andnothingelse?"

"Nothingelse!Why,isnotthatenoughforyou,youinsatiableperson?"

"Notenough?Onthecontrary,it'sagreatdeal,averygreatdeal,Nastenka;youkindgirl,ifyouareNastenkaformefromthefirst."

"Quiteso!Well?"

"Well,listen,Nastenka,nowforthisabsurdhistory."

Isatdownbesideher,assumedapedanticallyseriousattitude,andbeganasthoughreadingfromamanuscript:—

"There are, Nastenka, though you may not know it, strange nooks inPetersburg.ItseemsasthoughthesamesunasshinesforallPetersburgpeopledoes not peep into those spots, but some other different newone, bespokenexpressly for those nooks, and it throws a different light on everything. Inthesecorners,dearNastenka,quiteadifferentlifeislived,quiteunlikethelifethat issurgingroundus,butsuchasperhapsexists insomeunknownrealm,notamongusinourserious,over-serious,time.Well,thatlifeisamixtureofsomething purely fantastic, fervently ideal, with something (alas!Nastenka)dingilyprosaicandordinary,nottosayincrediblyvulgar."

"Foo!GoodHeavens!Whatapreface!WhatdoIhear?"

"Listen, Nastenka. (It seems tome I shall never be tired of calling youNastenka.) Let me tell you that in these corners live strange people—

dreamers. The dreamer—if you want an exact definition—is not a humanbeing, but a creature of an intermediate sort. For themost part he settles insomeinaccessiblecorner,asthoughhidingfromthelightofday;onceheslipsintohiscorner,hegrowstoitlikeasnail,or,anyway,heisinthatrespectverymuch like that remarkable creature,which is an animal and a houseboth atonce,and iscalleda tortoise.Whydoyousupposehe issofondofhis fourwalls, which are invariably painted green, grimy, dismal and reekingunpardonablyoftobaccosmoke?Whyisitthatwhenthisabsurdgentlemanisvisitedbyoneofhisfewacquaintances(andheendsbygettingridofallhisfriends), why does this absurd person meet him with such embarrassment,changing countenance and overcomewith confusion, as thoughhe had onlyjust committed some crime within his four walls; as though he had beenforgingcounterfeitnotes,orasthoughhewerewritingversestobesenttoajournalwithananonymousletter,inwhichhestatesthattherealpoetisdead,andthathisfriendthinksithissacreddutytopublishhisthings?Why,tellme,Nastenka,whyisitconversationisnoteasybetweenthetwofriends?Whyisthere no laughter? Why does no lively word fly from the tongue of theperplexednewcomer,whoatothertimesmaybeveryfondoflaughter,livelywords,conversationaboutthefairsex,andothercheerfulsubjects?Andwhydoes this friend, probably a new friend and on his first visit—for therewillhardlybeasecond,andthefriendwillnevercomeagain—whyis thefriendhimselfsoconfused,so tongue-tied, inspiteofhiswit(ifhehasany),ashelooksatthedowncastfaceofhishost,whoinhisturnbecomesutterlyhelplessand at hiswits' end after gigantic but fruitless efforts to smooth things overandenliventheconversation,toshowhisknowledgeofpolitesociety,totalk,too,of the fair sex, andby suchhumbleendeavour, toplease thepoorman,wholikeafishoutofwaterhasmistakenlycometovisithim?Whydoesthegentleman, all at once remembering some very necessary business whichneverexisted,suddenlyseizehishatandhurriedlymakeoff,snatchingawayhishandfromthewarmgripofhishost,whowastryinghisutmosttoshowhis regret and retrieve the lost position?Why does the friend chuckle as hegoes out of the door, and swear never to come and see this queer creatureagain,thoughthequeercreatureisreallyaverygoodfellow,andatthesametime he cannot refuse his imagination the little diversion of comparing thequeerfellow'scountenanceduringtheirconversationwiththeexpressionofanunhappy kitten treacherously captured, roughly handled, frightened andsubjectedtoallsortsofindignitiesbychildren,till,utterlycrestfallen,ithidesawayfromthemunderachairinthedark,andtheremustneedsatitsleisurebristleup,spit,andwashitsinsultedfacewithbothpaws,andlongafterwardslook angrily at life and nature, and even at the bits saved from themaster'sdinnerforitbythesympathetichousekeeper?"

"Listen," interrupted Nastenka, who had listened to me all the time in

amazement,openinghereyesandherlittlemouth."Listen;Idon'tknowintheleastwhyithappenedandwhyyouaskmesuchabsurdquestions;allIknowis,thatthisadventuremusthavehappenedwordforwordtoyou."

"Doubtless,"Ianswered,withthegravestface.

"Well,since there isnodoubtabout it,goon,"saidNastenka,"becauseIwantverymuchtoknowhowitwillend."

"Youwanttoknow,Nastenka,whatourhero,thatisI—fortheheroofthewhole businesswasmy humble self—did in his corner?Youwant to knowwhyIlostmyheadandwasupsetforthewholedaybytheunexpectedvisitofa friend?Youwant toknowwhy Iwas so startled,why Iblushedwhen thedoorofmyroomwasopened,whyIwasnotabletoentertainmyvisitor,andwhyIwascrushedundertheweightofmyownhospitality?"

"Why,yes,yes,"answeredNastenka,"that'sthepoint.Listen.Youdescribeit all splendidly,butcouldn'tyouperhapsdescribe it a little less splendidly?Youtalkasthoughyouwerereadingitoutofabook."

"Nastenka,"Iansweredinasternanddignifiedvoice,hardlyabletokeepfromlaughing,"dearNastenka,IknowIdescribesplendidly,but,excuseme,Idon'tknowhowelsetodoit.Atthismoment,dearNastenka,atthismomentIamlikethespiritofKingSolomonwhen,after lyingathousandyearsundersevensealsinhisurn,thosesevensealswereatlasttakenoff.Atthismoment,Nastenka,whenwehavemetat lastaftersuchalongseparation—forIhaveknownyouforages,Nastenka,becauseIhavebeenlookingforsomeoneforages,andthatisasignthatitwasyouIwaslookingfor,anditwasordainedthatweshouldmeetnow—atthismomentathousandvalveshaveopenedinmyhead,andImustletmyselfflowinariverofwords,orIshallchoke.AndsoIbegyounottointerruptme,Nastenka,butlistenhumblyandobediently,orIwillbesilent."

"No,no,no!Notatall.Goon!Iwon'tsayaword!"

"Iwillcontinue.Thereis,myfriendNastenka,onehourinmydaywhichIlikeextremely.Thatisthehourwhenalmostallbusiness,workanddutiesareover,andeveryoneishurryinghometodinner,toliedown,torest,andontheway all are cogitating on other more cheerful subjects relating to theirevenings,theirnights,andalltherestoftheirfreetime.Atthathourourhero—forallowme,Nastenka, to tellmystory in the thirdperson, forone feelsawfully ashamed to tell it in the first person—and so at that hour our hero,whohadhisworktoo,waspacingalongaftertheothers.Butastrangefeelingofpleasuresethispale,rathercrumpled-lookingfaceworking.Helookednotwith indifferenceon the eveningglowwhichwas slowly fadingon the coldPetersburgsky.WhenIsayhelooked,Iamlying:hedidnotlookatit,butsaw

itasitwerewithoutrealizing,asthoughtiredorpreoccupiedwithsomeothermoreinterestingsubject,sothathecouldscarcelyspareaglanceforanythingabouthim.Hewaspleasedbecausetillnextdayhewasreleasedfrombusinessirksometohim,andhappyasaschoolboyletoutfromtheclass-roomtohisgamesandmischief.Takea lookathim,Nastenka;youwillseeatoncethatjoyful emotion has already had an effect on his weak nerves andmorbidlyexcited fancy. You see he is thinking of something.... Of dinner, do youimagine? Of the evening? What is he looking at like that? Is it at thatgentlemanofdignifiedappearancewhoisbowingsopicturesquelytotheladywhorollsbyinacarriagedrawnbyprancinghorses?No,Nastenka;whatareallthosetrivialitiestohimnow!Heisrichnowwithhisownindividuallife;hehassuddenlybecomerich,and it isnot fornothing that thefadingsunsetsheds its farewell gleams so gaily before him, and calls forth a swarm ofimpressionsfromhiswarmedheart.Nowhehardlynoticestheroad,onwhichthetiniestdetailsatothertimeswouldstrikehim.Now'theGoddessofFancy'(ifyouhavereadZhukovsky,dearNastenka)hasalreadywithfantastichandspunhergoldenwarpandbegunweavinguponitpatternsofmarvellousmagiclife—andwhoknows,maybe,herfantastichandhasbornehimtotheseventhcrystal heaven far from the excellent granite pavement on which he waswalking his way? Try stopping him now, ask him suddenly where he isstandingnow, throughwhatstreetshe isgoing—hewill,probablyremembernothing,neitherwhereheisgoingnorwhereheisstandingnow,andflushingwithvexationhewillcertainlytellsomelietosaveappearances.Thatiswhyhestarts,almostcriesout,andlooksroundwithhorrorwhenarespectableoldlady stops him politely in the middle of the pavement and asks her way.Frowningwith vexation he strides on, scarcely noticing thatmore than onepasser-by smiles and turns round to look after him, and that a little girl,movingoutofhiswayinalarm,laughsaloud,gazingopen-eyedathisbroadmeditativesmileandgesticulations.Butfancycatchesupinitsplayfulflightthe old woman, the curious passers-by, and the laughing child, and thepeasants spending their nights in their barges on Fontanka (our hero, let ussuppose, is walking along the canal-side at that moment), and capriciouslyweaveseveryoneandeverythingintothecanvaslikeaflyinaspider'sweb.Anditisonlyafterthequeerfellowhasreturnedtohiscomfortabledenwithfreshstoresforhismindtoworkon,hassatdownandfinishedhisdinner,thathecomestohimself,whenMatronawhowaitsuponhim—alwaysthoughtfulanddepressed—clears the tableandgiveshimhispipe;hecomes tohimselfthenandrecallswithsurprise thathehasdined, thoughhehasabsolutelynonotionhowithashappened.Ithasgrowndarkintheroom;hissoulissadandempty; the whole kingdom of fancies drops to pieces about him, drops topieces without a trace, without a sound, floats away like a dream, and hecannothimselfrememberwhathewasdreaming.Butavaguesensationfaintly

stirs his heart and sets it aching, some new desire temptingly tickles andexcites his fancy, and imperceptibly evokes a swarm of fresh phantoms.Stillness reigns in the little room; imagination is fostered by solitude andidleness; it is faintly smouldering, faintly simmering, like the water withwhich oldMatrona ismaking her coffee as shemoves quietly about in thekitchencloseby.Now it breaksout spasmodically; and thebook,pickedupaimlesslyandatrandom,dropsfrommydreamer'shandbeforehehasreachedthethirdpage.Hisimaginationisagainstirredandatwork,andagainanewworld, anew fascinating lifeopensvistasbeforehim.A freshdream—freshhappiness!A fresh rush of delicate, voluptuous poison!What is real life tohim!Tohiscorruptedeyeswelive,youandI,Nastenka,sotorpidly,slowly,insipidly;inhiseyesweareallsodissatisfiedwithourfate,soexhaustedbyourlife!And,truly,seehowatfirstsighteverythingiscold,morose,asthoughill-humoured among us.... Poor things! thinks our dreamer. And it is nowonder that he thinks it! Look at these magic phantasms, which soenchantingly, so whimsically, so carelessly and freely group before him insuch a magic, animated picture, in which the most prominent figure in theforegroundisofcoursehimself,ourdreamer,inhispreciousperson.Seewhatvaried adventures, what an endless swarm of ecstatic dreams. You ask,perhaps,whatheisdreamingof.Whyaskthat?—why,ofeverything...ofthelot of the poet, first unrecognized, then crownedwith laurels; of friendshipwith Hoffmann, St. Bartholomew's Night, of Diana Vernon, of playing theheroatthetakingofKazanbyIvanVassilyevitch,ofClaraMowbray,ofEffieDeans,ofthecounciloftheprelatesandHussbeforethem,oftherisingofthedead in 'Robert the Devil' (do you remember the music, it smells of thechurchyard!),ofMinnaandBrenda,ofthebattleofBerezina,ofthereadingofapoematCountessV.D.'s,ofDanton,ofCleopatraeisuoiamanti,ofalittlehouseinKolomna,ofalittlehomeofone'sownandbesideoneadearcreaturewholistenstooneonawinter'sevening,openingherlittlemouthandeyesasyouarelisteningtomenow,myangel....No,Nastenka,whatisthere,whatisthereforhim,voluptuoussluggard,inthislife,forwhichyouandIhavesuchalonging?Hethinksthatthisisapoorpitifullife,notforeseeingthatforhimtoo,maybe,sometimethemournfulhourmaystrike,whenforonedayofthatpitiful lifehewouldgiveallhisyearsofphantasy,andwouldgive themnotonlyforjoyandforhappiness,butwithoutcaringtomakedistinctionsinthathourofsadness,remorseanduncheckedgrief.Butsofarthatthreateninghasnotarrived—hedesiresnothing,becausehe issuperior toalldesire,becausehehaseverything,becausehe is satiated,becausehe is theartistofhisownlife, and creates it for himself every hour to suit his latest whim. And youknow this fantastic world of fairyland is so easily, so naturally created! Asthoughitwerenotadelusion!Indeed,heisreadytobelieveatsomemomentsthatallthislifeisnotsuggestedbyfeeling,isnotmirage,notadelusionofthe

imagination,butthatitisconcrete,real,substantial!Whyisit,Nastenka,whyisitatsuchmomentsoneholdsone'sbreath?Why,bywhatsorcery,throughwhatincomprehensiblecaprice,isthepulsequickened,doesatearstartfromthedreamer'seye,whilehispalemoistcheeksglow,whilehiswholebeingissuffused with an inexpressible sense of consolation? Why is it that wholesleeplessnightspasslikeaflashininexhaustiblegladnessandhappiness,andwhen thedawngleams rosyat thewindowanddaybreak floods thegloomyroomwithuncertain, fantastic light, as inPetersburg,ourdreamer,wornoutand exhausted, flings himself on his bed and drops asleep with thrills ofdelightinhismorbidlyoverwroughtspirit,andwithawearysweetacheinhisheart? Yes, Nastenka, one deceives oneself and unconsciously believes thatrealtruepassionisstirringone'ssoul;oneunconsciouslybelievesthatthereissomething living, tangible in one's immaterial dreams! And is it delusion?Herelove,forinstance,isboundupwithallitsfathomlessjoy,allitstorturingagoniesinhisbosom....Onlylookathim,andyouwillbeconvinced!Wouldyou believe, looking at him, dear Nastenka, that he has never known herwhomhelovesinhisecstaticdreams?Canitbethathehasonlyseenherinseductivevisions,andthatthispassionhasbeennothingbutadream?Surelytheymust have spent years hand in hand together—alone the two of them,casting off all the world and each uniting his or her life with the other's?Surelywhenthehourofpartingcameshemusthavelainsobbingandgrievingonhisbosom,heedlessofthetempestragingunderthesullensky,heedlessofthewindwhichsnatchesandbearsawaythetearsfromherblackeyelashes?Canallof thathavebeenadream—and thatgarden,dejected, forsaken, runwild, with its littlemoss-grown paths, solitary, gloomy, where they used towalksohappilytogether,wheretheyhoped,grieved,loved,lovedeachotherso long, "so longandso fondly?"And thatqueerancestralhousewhere shespent so many years lonely and sad with her morose old husband, alwayssilent and splenetic, who frightened them, while timid as children they hidtheir love from each other? What torments they suffered, what agonies ofterror, how innocent, how purewas their love, and how (I need hardly say,Nastenka) malicious people were! And, good Heavens! surely he met herafterwards,farfromtheirnativeshores,underalienskies,inthehotsouthinthedivinelyeternalcity, in thedazzlingsplendourof theball to thecrashofmusic,inapalazzo(itmustbeinapalazzo),drownedinaseaoflights,onthebalcony,wreathedinmyrtleandroses,where,recognizinghim,shehurriedlyremoveshermaskandwhispering,'Iamfree,'flingsherselftremblingintohisarms, andwith a cryof rapture, clinging toone another, inone instant theyforget their sorrow and their parting and all their agonies, and the gloomyhouseandtheoldmanandthedismalgardeninthatdistantland,andtheseatonwhichwithalastpassionatekissshetoreherselfawayfromhisarmsnumbwith anguish and despair.... Oh, Nastenka, you must admit that one would

start,betrayconfusion,andblushlikeaschoolboywhohasjuststuffedinhispocketanapplestolenfromaneighbour'sgarden,whenyouruninvitedvisitor,somestalwart,lankyfellow,afestivesoulfondofajoke,opensyourdoorandshoutsoutasthoughnothingwerehappening:'Mydearboy,Ihavethisminutecome from Pavlovsk.' My goodness! the old count is dead, unutterablehappinessiscloseathand—andpeoplearrivefromPavlovsk!"

Finishingmy pathetic appeal, I paused pathetically. I remembered that Ihadanintensedesiretoforcemyselftolaugh,forIwasalreadyfeelingthatamalignantdemonwasstirringwithinme,thattherewasalumpinmythroat,thatmychinwasbeginning to twitch, and thatmyeyesweregrowingmoreandmoremoist.

I expectedNastenka,who listened tomeopeningher clever eyes,wouldbreakintoherchildish,irrepressiblelaugh;andIwasalreadyregrettingthatIhad gone so far, that I had unnecessarily described what had long beensimmering inmyheart, aboutwhich I could speakas though fromawrittenaccount of it, because I had long ago passed judgment onmyself and nowcould not resist reading it, making my confession, without expecting to beunderstood;buttomysurpriseshewassilent,waitingalittle,thenshefaintlypressedmyhandandwithtimidsympathyasked—

"Surelyyouhaven'tlivedlikethatallyourlife?"

"Allmylife,Nastenka,"Ianswered;"allmylife,anditseemstomeIshallgoonsototheend."

"No,thatwon'tdo,"shesaiduneasily,"thatmustnotbe;andso,maybe,Ishallspendallmylifebesidegrandmother.Doyouknow,itisnotatallgoodtolivelikethat?"

"Iknow,Nastenka,Iknow!"Icried,unabletorestrainmyfeelingslonger."And I realize now,more than ever, that I have lost allmybest years!AndnowIknowitandfeel itmorepainfullyfromrecognizingthatGodhassentmeyou,mygoodangel,totellmethatandshowit.NowthatIsitbesideyouandtalktoyouit isstrangeformeto thinkof thefuture,for in thefuture—thereislonelinessagain,againthismusty,uselesslife;andwhatshallIhavetodreamofwhenIhavebeensohappy in realitybesideyou!Oh,mayyoubeblessed,deargirl,fornothavingrepulsedmeatfirst,forenablingmetosaythatfortwoevenings,atleast,Ihavelived."

"Oh, no, no!" cried Nastenka and tears glistened in her eyes. "No, itmustn'tbesoanymore;wemustnotpartlikethat!whataretwoevenings?"

"Oh,Nastenka,Nastenka!Doyouknowhowfaryouhavereconciledmetomyself?DoyouknownowthatIshallnotthinksoillofmyself,asIhaveatsomemoments?Doyouknowthat,maybe,Ishallleaveoffgrievingoverthe

crime and sin ofmy life? for such a life is a crime and a sin. And do notimagine that I have been exaggerating anything—for goodness' sake don'tthinkthat,Nastenka:forattimessuchmiserycomesoverme,suchmisery....BecauseitbeginstoseemtomeatsuchtimesthatIamincapableofbeginninga life in real life,because it has seemed tome that Ihave lost all touch, allinstinctfortheactual, thereal;becauseatlastIhavecursedmyself;becauseafter my fantastic nights I have moments of returning sobriety, which areawful!Meanwhile,youhearthewhirlandroarofthecrowdinthevortexoflifearoundyou;youhear,yousee,menlivinginreality;youseethatlifeforthemisnotforbidden, that their lifedoesnotfloatawaylikeadream, likeavision; that their life is being eternally renewed, eternally youthful, and notonehourofitisthesameasanother;whilefancyissospiritless,monotonoustovulgarityandeasilyscared, theslaveofshadows,of theidea, theslaveofthe first cloud that shrouds the sun, and overcasts with depression the truePetersburgheartsodevotedtothesun—andwhatisfancyindepression!Onefeelsthatthisinexhaustiblefancyiswearyatlastandwornoutwithcontinualexercise,becauseoneisgrowingintomanhood,outgrowingone'soldideals:theyarebeingshatteredintofragments,intodust;ifthereisnootherlifeonemust build one up from the fragments. And meanwhile the soul longs andcravesforsomethingelse!Andinvainthedreamerrakesoverhisolddreams,asthoughseekingasparkamongtheembers,tofanthemintoflame,towarmhischilledheartbytherekindledfire,andtorouseupinitagainallthatwassosweet, that touchedhis heart, that set his bloodboiling, drew tears fromhiseyes, and so luxuriouslydeceivedhim!Doyouknow,Nastenka, thepoint Ihavereached?DoyouknowthatIamforcednowtocelebratetheanniversaryofmyownsensations,theanniversaryofthatwhichwasoncesosweet,whichneverexistedinreality—forthisanniversaryiskeptinmemoryofthosesamefoolish,shadowydreams—andtodothisbecausethosefoolishdreamsarenomore,becauseIhavenothingtoearnthemwith;youknowevendreamsdonotcomefornothing!DoyouknowthatI lovenowtorecallandvisitatcertaindatestheplaceswhereIwasoncehappyinmyownway?Ilovetobuildupmypresent in harmonywith the irrevocable past, and I oftenwander like ashadow, aimless, sad and dejected, about the streets and crooked lanes ofPetersburg.Whatmemoriestheyare!Toremember,forinstance,thatherejustayearago,justatthistime,atthishour,onthispavement,Iwanderedjustaslonely,justasdejectedasto-day.Andoneremembersthatthenone'sdreamswere sad, and though the past was no better one feels as though it hadsomehowbeenbetter,andthatlifewasmorepeaceful,thatonewasfreefromtheblackthoughtsthathauntonenow;thatonewasfreefromthegnawingofconscience—thegloomy,sullengnawingwhichnowgivesmenorestbydayor by night.And one asks oneselfwhere are one's dreams.And one shakesone'sheadandsayshowrapidlytheyearsflyby!Andagainoneasksoneself

whathasonedonewithone'syears.Wherehaveyouburiedyourbestdays?Haveyoulivedornot?Look,onesaystooneself,lookhowcoldtheworldisgrowing. Some more years will pass, and after them will come gloomysolitude; thenwill comeold age tremblingon its crutch, and after itmiseryanddesolation.Yourfantasticworldwillgrowpale,yourdreamswillfadeanddie andwill fall like the yellow leaves from the trees....Oh,Nastenka! youknow it will be sad to be left alone, utterly alone, and to have not evenanythingtoregret—nothing,absolutelynothing...forallthatyouhavelost,allthat, all was nothing, stupid, simple nullity, there has been nothing butdreams!"

"Come,don'tworkonmyfeelingsanymore,"saidNastenka,wipingawayatearwhichwastricklingdownhercheek."Nowit'sover!Nowweshallbetwotogether.Now,whateverhappenstome,wewillneverpart.Listen;Iamasimple girl, I have not had much education, though grandmother did get ateacher forme, but truly I understandyou, for all that youhavedescribed Ihave been through myself, when grandmother pinned me to her dress. Ofcourse,Ishouldnothavedescribeditsowellasyouhave;Iamnoteducated,"she added timidly, for shewas still feeling a sort of respect formypatheticeloquenceandloftystyle;"butIamverygladthatyouhavebeenquiteopenwithme.NowIknowyouthoroughly,allofyou.Anddoyouknowwhat?Iwant to tell youmyhistory too, allwithout concealment, and after that youmustgivemeadvice.Youareaverycleverman;willyoupromisetogivemeadvice?"

"Ah, Nastenka," I cried, "though I have never given advice, still lesssensibleadvice,yetIseenowthatifwealwaysgoonlikethisthatitwillbeverysensible,andthateachofuswillgivetheotheragreatdealofsensibleadvice!Well,myprettyNastenka,whatsortofadvicedoyouwant?Tellmefrankly;at thismoment Iamsogayandhappy, soboldandsensible, that itwon'tbedifficultformetofindwords."

"No, no!" Nastenka interrupted, laughing. "I don't only want sensibleadvice,Iwantwarmbrotherlyadvice,asthoughyouhadbeenfondofmeallyourlife!"

"Agreed,Nastenka,agreed!"Icrieddelighted;"andifIhadbeenfondofyoufortwentyyears,Icouldn'thavebeenfonderofyouthanIamnow."

"Yourhand,"saidNastenka.

"Hereitis,"saidI,givinghermyhand.

"Andsoletusbeginmyhistory!"

Nastenka'sHistory

"Halfmy story you know already—that is, you know that I have an oldgrandmother...."

"Iftheotherhalfisasbriefasthat..."Iinterrupted,laughing.

"Bequietandlisten.Firstofallyoumustagreenottointerruptme,orelse,perhapsIshallgetinamuddle!Come,listenquietly.

"Ihaveanoldgrandmother.IcameintoherhandswhenIwasquitealittlegirl,formyfatherandmotheraredead.Itmustbesupposedthatgrandmotherwasonce richer, fornowshe recallsbetterdays.She taughtmeFrench,andthengota teacher forme.WhenIwasfifteen(andnowIamseventeen)wegaveuphavinglessons.ItwasatthattimethatIgotintomischief;whatIdidIwon't tell you; it's enough to say that it wasn't very important. Butgrandmothercalledmetoheronemorningandsaidthatasshewasblindshecouldnotlookafterme;shetookapinandpinnedmydresstohers,andsaidthat we should sit like that for the rest of our lives if, of course, I did notbecomeabettergirl.Infact,atfirstitwasimpossibletogetawayfromher:Ihadtowork,toreadandtostudyallbesidegrandmother.Itriedtodeceiveheronce,andpersuadedFeklatositinmyplace.Feklaisourcharwoman,sheisdeaf.Feklasatthereinsteadofme;grandmotherwasasleepinherarmchairatthe time, and I went off to see a friend close by.Well, it ended in trouble.GrandmotherwokeupwhileIwasout,andaskedsomequestions;shethoughtIwasstillsittingquietlyinmyplace.Feklasawthatgrandmotherwasaskinghersomething,butcouldnottellwhatitwas;shewonderedwhattodo,undidthepinandranaway...."

AtthispointNastenkastoppedandbeganlaughing.Ilaughedwithher.Sheleftoffatonce.

"I tell you what, don't you laugh at grandmother. I laugh because it'sfunny....WhatcanIdo,sincegrandmotherislikethat;butyetIamfondofherinaway.Oh,well, Ididcatch it that time. Ihad tositdowninmyplaceatonce,andafterthatIwasnotallowedtostir.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you that our house belongs to us, that is tograndmother; it is a little wooden house with three windows as old asgrandmother herself, with a little upper storey; well, there moved into ourupperstoreyanewlodger."

"Thenyouhadanoldlodger,"Iobservedcasually.

"Yes,ofcourse,"answeredNastenka,"andonewhoknewhowtoholdhistonguebetter thanyoudo. In fact,hehardlyeverusedhis tongueat all.Hewasadumb,blind,lame,dried-uplittleoldman,sothatatlasthecouldnotgoonliving,hedied;sothenwehadtofindanewlodger,forwecouldnotlivewithoutalodger—therent,togetherwithgrandmother'spension,isalmostall

we have. But the new lodger, as luck would have it, was a young man, astrangernotof theseparts.Ashedidnothaggleover the rent, grandmotheracceptedhim,andonlyafterwardssheaskedme: 'Tellme,Nastenka,whatisour lodger like—is he young or old?' I did not want to lie, so I toldgrandmotherthathewasn'texactlyyoungandthathewasn'told.

"'Andishepleasantlooking?'askedgrandmother.

"Again I did not want to tell a lie: 'Yes, he is pleasant looking,grandmother,' I said. And grandmother said: 'Oh, what a nuisance, what anuisance! I tell you this, grandchild, thatyoumaynotbe lookingafterhim.Whattimestheseare!Whyapaltrylodgerlikethis,andhemustbepleasantlookingtoo;itwasverydifferentintheolddays!'"

"Grandmotherwasalwaysregrettingtheolddays—shewasyoungerinolddays,andthesunwaswarmerinolddays,andcreamdidnotturnsosourinolddays—itwasalwaystheolddays!Iwouldsitstillandholdmytongueandthink to myself: why did grandmother suggest it to me?Why did she askwhether the lodger was young and good-looking? But that was all, I justthought it, began countingmy stitches again,went onknittingmy stocking,andforgotallaboutit.

"Well,onemorningthelodgercameintoseeus;heaskedaboutapromisetopaperhisrooms.Onethingledtoanother.Grandmotherwastalkative,andshe said: 'Go, Nastenka, into my bedroom and bring me my reckoner.' Ijumped up at once; I blushed all over, I don't knowwhy, and forgot I wassittingpinnedtograndmother; insteadofquietlyundoingthepin,sothat thelodgershouldnotsee—Ijumpedsothatgrandmother'schairmoved.WhenIsawthatthelodgerknewallaboutmenow,Iblushed,stoodstillasthoughIhadbeenshot,andsuddenlybegantocry—Ifeltsoashamedandmiserableatthatminute,thatIdidn'tknowwheretolook!Grandmothercalledout, 'Whatareyouwaitingfor?'andIwentonworsethanever.Whenthelodgersaw,sawthatIwasashamedonhisaccount,hebowedandwentawayatonce!

"After that I felt ready to die at the least sound in the passage. 'It's thelodger,'Ikeptthinking;Istealthilyundidthepinincase.Butitalwaysturnedoutnottobe,henevercame.Afortnightpassed;thelodgersentwordthroughFyokla that he had a great number of French books, and that theywere allgoodbooksthatImightread,sowouldnotgrandmotherlikemetoreadthemthatImightnotbedull?Grandmotheragreedwithgratitude,butkeptaskingiftheyweremoralbooks,forifthebookswereimmoralitwouldbeoutofthequestion,onewouldlearnevilfromthem."

"'AndwhatshouldIlearn,grandmother?Whatistherewritteninthem?'

"'Ah,' she said, 'what's described in them, is how young men seduce

virtuous girls; how, on the excuse that theywant tomarry them, they carrythemofffromtheirparents'houses;howafterwardstheyleavetheseunhappygirlstotheirfate,andtheyperishinthemostpitifulway.Ireadagreatmanybooks,' said grandmother, 'and it is all sowell described that one sits up allnightandreadsthemonthesly.Somindyoudon'treadthem,Nastenka,'saidshe.'Whatbookshashesent?'

"'TheyareallWalterScott'snovels,grandmother.'

"'Walter Scott's novels! But stay, isn't there some trick about it? Look,hasn'thestuckalove-letteramongthem?'

"'No,grandmother,'Isaid,'thereisn'talove-letter.'

"'But lookunder thebinding; they sometimes stuff itunder thebindings,therascals!'

"'No,grandmother,thereisnothingunderthebinding.'

"'Well,that'sallright.'

"So we began readingWalter Scott, and in a month or so we had readalmosthalf.Thenhesentusmoreandmore.HesentusPushkin,too;sothatatlast I could not get onwithout a book and left off dreaming of how fine itwouldbetomarryaChinesePrince.

"That'showthingswerewhenIchancedonedaytomeetourlodgeronthestairs.Grandmotherhadsentmetofetchsomething.Hestopped,Iblushedandhe blushed; he laughed, though, said good-morning to me, asked aftergrandmother,andsaid,'Well,haveyoureadthebooks?'IansweredthatIhad.'Whichdidyoulikebest?'heasked.Isaid,'Ivanhoe,andPushkinbestofall,'andsoourtalkendedforthattime.

"AweeklaterImethimagainonthestairs.Thattimegrandmotherhadnotsentme,Iwantedtogetsomethingformyself.Itwaspasttwo,andthelodgerused to come home at that time. 'Good-afternoon,' said he. I said good-afternoon,too.

"'Aren'tyoudull,'hesaid,'sittingalldaywithyourgrandmother?'

"When he asked that, I blushed, I don't knowwhy; I felt ashamed, andagain I felt offended—I suppose because other people had begun to askmeaboutthat.Iwantedtogoawaywithoutanswering,butIhadn'tthestrength.

"'Listen,'hesaid,'youareagoodgirl.Excusemyspeakingtoyoulikethat,but I assure you that I wish for your welfare quite as much as yourgrandmother.Haveyounofriendsthatyoucouldgoandvisit?'

"ItoldhimIhadn'tany,thatIhadhadnofriendbutMashenka,andshehadgoneawaytoPskov.

"'Listen,'hesaid,'wouldyouliketogotothetheatrewithme?'

"'Tothetheatre.Whataboutgrandmother?'

"'Butyoumustgowithoutyourgrandmother'sknowingit,'hesaid.

"'No,'Isaid,'Idon'twanttodeceivegrandmother.Good-bye.'

"'Well,good-bye,'heanswered,andsaidnothingmore.

"Only after dinner he came to see us; sat a long time talking tograndmother;askedherwhethersheeverwentoutanywhere,whethershehadacquaintances, and suddenly said: 'I have taken a box at the opera for thisevening; theyaregivingTheBarberofSeville.Myfriendsmeant togo,butafterwardsrefused,sotheticketisleftonmyhands.' 'TheBarberofSeville,'criedgrandmother;'why,thesametheyusedtoactinolddays?'

"'Yes,it'sthesamebarber,'hesaid,andglancedatme.Isawwhatitmeantandturnedcrimson,andmyheartbeganthrobbingwithsuspense.

"'Tobesure,Iknowit,'saidgrandmother; 'why,ItookthepartofRosinamyselfinolddays,ataprivateperformance!'

"'Sowouldn'tyouliketogoto-day?'saidthelodger.'Ormyticketwillbewasted.'

"'By allmeans let us go,' said grandmother;why shouldn'twe?AndmyNastenkaherehasneverbeentothetheatre.'

"Mygoodness,what joy!Wegot ready at once, put onour best clothes,andsetoff.Thoughgrandmotherwasblind,stillshewantedtohearthemusic;besides,sheisakindoldsoul,whatshecaredmostforwastoamuseme,weshouldneverhavegoneofourselves.

"WhatmyimpressionsofTheBarberofSevillewereIwon'ttellyou;butallthateveningourlodgerlookedatmesonicely,talkedsonicely,thatIsawatoncethathehadmeanttotestmeinthemorningwhenheproposedthatIshouldgowithhimalone.Well,itwasjoy!Iwenttobedsoproud,sogay,myheartbeatsothatIwasalittlefeverish,andallnightIwasravingaboutTheBarberofSeville.

"Iexpectedthathewouldcomeandseeusmoreandmoreoftenafterthat,butitwasn'tsoatall.Healmostentirelygaveupcoming.Hewouldjustcomeinaboutonceamonth,andthenonlytoinviteustothetheatre.Wewenttwiceagain.OnlyIwasn'tatallpleasedwiththat;IsawthathewassimplysorryformebecauseIwassohardlytreatedbygrandmother,andthatwasall.Astimewenton, Igrewmoreandmore restless, Icouldn't sit still, Icouldn't read, Icouldn'twork;sometimesIlaughedanddidsomethingtoannoygrandmother,atanother timeIwouldcry.At last Igrewthinandwasverynearly ill.The

operaseasonwasover,andour lodgerhadquitegivenupcoming toseeus;wheneverwemet—alwaysonthesamestaircase,ofcourse—hewouldbowsosilently, sogravely,as thoughhedidnotwant to speak,andgodown to thefront door,while Iwent on standing in themiddle of the stairs, as red as acherry,forallthebloodrushedtomyheadatthesightofhim.

"Nowtheendisnear.Justayearago, inMay,thelodgercametousandsaidtograndmotherthathehadfinishedhisbusinesshere,andthathemustgobacktoMoscowforayear.WhenIheardthat,Isankintoachairhalfdead;grandmotherdidnotnoticeanything;andhaving informedus thatheshouldbeleavingus,hebowedandwentaway.

"Whatwas I todo? I thought and thoughtand frettedand fretted, andatlastImadeupmymind.Nextdayhewastogoaway,andImadeupmymindtoenditallthateveningwhengrandmotherwenttobed.Andsoithappened.Imade up all my clothes in a parcel—all the linen I needed—and with theparcelinmyhand,moredeadthanalive,wentupstairstoourlodger.IbelieveImusthavestayedanhouronthestaircase.WhenIopenedhisdoorhecriedoutashelookedatme.HethoughtIwasaghost,andrushedtogivemesomewater, for I could hardly stand up.Myheart beat so violently thatmy headached, and I did not knowwhat Iwas doing.When I recovered I began bylayingmyparcelonhisbed,satdownbesideit,hidmyfaceinmyhandsandwentintofloodsoftears.Ithinkheunderstooditallatonce,andlookedatmesosadlythatmyheartwastorn.

"'Listen,'hebegan,'listen,Nastenka,Ican'tdoanything;Iamapoorman,for Ihavenothing,notevenadecentberth.Howcouldwe live, if Iwere tomarryyou?'

"Wetalkedalongtime;butatlastIgotquitefrantic,IsaidIcouldnotgoon livingwith grandmother, that I should run away fromher, that I did notwanttobepinnedtoher,andthatIwouldgotoMoscowifheliked,becauseIcouldnotlivewithouthim.Shameandprideandlovewereallclamouringinmeatonce,andIfellon thebedalmost inconvulsions,Iwassoafraidofarefusal.

"Hesatforsomeminutesinsilence,thengotup,cameuptomeandtookmebythehand.

"'Listen,mydeargoodNastenka,listen;IsweartoyouthatifIameverinapositiontomarry,youshallmakemyhappiness.Iassureyouthatnowyouare theonlyonewhocouldmakemehappy.Listen, I amgoing toMoscowandshallbe there justayear; Ihope toestablishmyposition.WhenIcomeback,ifyoustillloveme,Iswearthatwewillbehappy.Nowitisimpossible,Iamnotable,Ihavenottherighttopromiseanything.Well,Irepeat,ifitisnotwithinayearitwillcertainlybesometime;thatis,ofcourse,ifyoudonot

preferanyoneelse,forIcannotanddarenotbindyoubyanysortofpromise.'

"That was what he said to me, and next day he went away.We agreedtogethernottosayawordtograndmother:thatwashiswish.Well,myhistoryisnearlyfinishednow.Justayearhaspast.Hehasarrived;hehasbeenherethreedays,and,and

"Andwhat?"Icried,impatienttoheartheend.

"And up to nowhas not shown himself!" answeredNastenka, as thoughscrewingupallhercourage."There'snosignorsoundofhim."

Here she stopped, paused for aminute, bent her head, and covering herfacewithherhandsbrokeintosuchsobsthatitsentapangtomyhearttohearthem.Ihadnotintheleastexpectedsuchadénouement.

"Nastenka," I began timidly in an ingratiating voice, "Nastenka! Forgoodness'sakedon'tcry!Howdoyouknow?Perhapsheisnothereyet...."

"Heis,heis,"Nastenkarepeated."Heishere,andIknowit.Wemadeanagreementat the time, that evening,beforehewent away:whenwe saidallthatIhavetoldyou,andhadcometoanunderstanding,thenwecameouthereforawalkonthisembankment.Itwasteno'clock;wesatonthisseat.Iwasnotcryingthen;itwassweettometohearwhathesaid....Andhesaidthathewould come to us directly he arrived, and if I did not refuse him, thenwewouldtellgrandmotheraboutitall.Nowheishere,Iknowit,andyethedoesnotcome!"

Andagainsheburstintotears.

"GoodGod,canIdonothingtohelpyouinyoursorrow?"Icriedjumpingupfromtheseat inutterdespair."Tellme,Nastenka,wouldn't itbepossibleformetogotohim?"

"Wouldthatbepossible?"sheaskedsuddenly,raisingherhead.

"No,ofcoursenot,"Isaidpullingmyselfup;"butItellyouwhat,writealetter."

"No, that's impossible, I can't do that," she answered with decision,bendingherheadandnotlookingatme.

"Howimpossible—whyisitimpossible?"Iwenton,clingingtomyidea."But, Nastenka, it depends what sort of letter; there are letters and lettersand....Ah,Nastenka, Iamright; trust tome, trust tome, Iwillnotgiveyoubadadvice.Itcanallbearranged!Youtookthefirststep—whynotnow?"

"Ican't.Ican't!ItwouldseemasthoughIwereforcingmyselfonhim...."

"Ah,mygoodlittleNastenka,"Isaid,hardlyabletoconcealasmile;"no,

no,youhavearightto,infact,becausehemadeyouapromise.Besides,Icanseefromeverythingthatheisamanofdelicatefeeling;thathebehavedverywell," I went on, more and more carried away by the logic of my ownarguments and convictions. "How did he behave? He bound himself by apromise:hesaidthatifhemarriedatallhewouldmarrynoonebutyou;hegaveyou full liberty to refusehimatonce....Under suchcircumstancesyoumaytakethefirststep;youhavetheright;youareintheprivilegedposition—if,forinstance,youwantedtofreehimfromhispromise...."

"Listen;howwouldyouwrite?"

"Writewhat?"

"Thisletter."

"ItellyouhowIwouldwrite:'DearSir.'..."

"MustIreallybeginlikethat,'DearSir'?"

"Youcertainlymust!Though,afterall,Idon'tknow,Iimagine...."

"Well,well,whatnext?"

"'Dear Sir,—I must apologize for——' But, no, there's no need toapologize;thefactitselfjustifieseverything.Writesimply:—

"'Iamwriting toyou.Forgivememyimpatience;but Ihavebeenhappyforawholeyearinhope;amItoblameforbeingunabletoendureadayofdoubtnow?Nowthatyouhavecome,perhapsyouhavechangedyourmind.Ifso,thisletteristotellyouthatIdonotrepine,norblameyou.IdonotblameyoubecauseIhavenopoweroveryourheart,suchismyfate!

"'You are an honourable man. You will not smile or be vexed at theseimpatient lines.Remember theyarewrittenbyapoorgirl; that she isalone;that she has no one to direct her, no one to advise her, and that she herselfcouldnevercontrolherheart.Butforgivemethatadoubthasstolen—ifonlyfor one instant—into my heart. You are not capable of insulting, even inthought,herwhosolovedandsolovesyou.'"

"Yes,yes;that'sexactlywhatIwasthinking!"criedNastenka,andhereyesbeamedwithdelight."Oh,youhavesolvedmydifficulties:Godhassentyoutome!Thankyou,thankyou!"

"What for? What for? For God's sending me?" I answered, lookingdelightedatherjoyfullittleface."Why,yes;forthattoo."

"Ah,Nastenka!Why,onethankssomepeopleforbeingaliveatthesametimewithone;Ithankyouforhavingmetme,formybeingabletorememberyouallmylife!"

"Well, enough, enough! But now I tell you what, listen: we made anagreementthenthatassoonashearrivedhewouldletmeknow,byleavingaletterwith somegoodsimplepeopleofmyacquaintancewhoknownothingaboutit;or, if itwereimpossibletowritealettertome,foraletterdoesnotalwaystelleverything,hewouldbehereatteno'clockonthedayhearrived,wherewehadarrangedtomeet.Iknowhehasarrivedalready;butnowit'sthethirdday,andthere'snosignofhimandnoletter.It'simpossibleformetogetaway from grandmother in themorning.Givemy letter to-morrow to thosekindpeopleIspoketoyouabout:theywillsenditontohim,andifthereisanansweryoubringitto-morrowatteno'clock."

"But the letter, the letter! You see, you must write the letter first! Soperhapsitmustallbethedayafterto-morrow."

"Theletter..."saidNastenka,alittleconfused,"theletter...but...."

But she did not finish.At first she turned her little face away fromme,flushedlikearose,andsuddenlyIfeltinmyhandaletterwhichhadevidentlybeen written long before, all ready and sealed up. A familiar sweet andcharmingreminiscencefloatedthroughmymind.

"R,o—Ro;s,i—si;n,a—na,"Ibegan.

"Rosina!"webothhummedtogether;Ialmostembracingherwithdelight,while she blushed as only she could blush, and laughed through the tearswhichgleamedlikepearlsonherblackeyelashes.

"Come,enough,enough!Good-byenow,"shesaidspeakingrapidly."Hereistheletter,hereistheaddresstowhichyouaretotakeit.Good-bye,tillwemeetagain!Tillto-morrow!"

She pressed both my hands warmly, nodded her head, and flew like anarrowdownhersidestreet.Istoodstillforalongtimefollowingherwithmyeyes.

"Till to-morrow! till to-morrow!"wasringing inmyearsasshevanishedfrommysight.

THIRDNIGHT

To-daywasagloomy,rainydaywithoutaglimmerofsunlight,liketheoldage before me. I am oppressed by such strange thoughts, such gloomysensations;questionsstillsoobscuretomearecrowdingintomybrain—andIseemtohaveneitherpowernorwilltosettlethem.It'snotformetosettleallthis!

To-dayweshallnotmeet.Yesterday,whenwesaidgood-bye, thecloudsbegangatheringovertheskyandamistrose.Isaidthatto-morrowitwouldbeabadday;shemadenoanswer,shedidnotwanttospeakagainstherwishes;for her that day was bright and clear, not one cloud should obscure herhappiness.

"Ifitrainsweshallnotseeeachother,"shesaid,"Ishallnotcome."

Ithoughtthatshewouldnotnoticeto-day'srain,andyetshehasnotcome.

Yesterdaywasourthirdinterview,ourthirdwhitenight....

Buthowfinejoyandhappinessmakesanyone!Howbrimmingoverwithlovetheheartis!Oneseemslongingtopouroutone'swholeheart;onewantseverythingtobegay,everythingtobelaughing.Andhowinfectiousthat joyis!Therewassuchasoftnessinherwords,suchakindlyfeelinginherhearttowardsme yesterday....How solicitous and friendly shewas; how tenderlyshetriedtogivemecourage!Oh,thecoquetryofhappiness!WhileI...Itookitallforthegenuinething,Ithoughtthatshe....

But, my God, how could I have thought it? How could I have been soblind,wheneverythinghadbeentakenbyanotheralready,whennothingwasmine;when, in fact,hervery tenderness tome,her anxiety,her love ... yes,loveforme,wasnothingelsebutjoyatthethoughtofseeinganothermansosoon, desire to includeme, too, inher happiness?...Whenhedidnot come,whenwewaited invain, she frowned, shegrew timid anddiscouraged.Hermovements, her words, were no longer so light, so playful, so gay; and,strange tosay,sheredoubledherattentiveness tome,as thoughinstinctivelydesiring to lavish on me what she desired for herself so anxiously, if herwisheswerenotaccomplished.MyNastenkawassodowncast,sodismayed,thatIthinksherealizedatlastthatIlovedher,andwassorryformypoorlove.Sowhenweareunhappywe feel theunhappinessofothersmore; feeling isnotdestroyedbutconcentrated....

I went to meet her with a full heart, and was all impatience. I had nopresentimentthatIshouldfeelasIdonow,thatitwouldnotallendhappily.Shewasbeamingwithpleasure;shewasexpectingananswer.Theanswerwashimself.Hewastocome,torunathercall.ShearrivedawholehourbeforeIdid.Atfirstshegiggledateverything, laughedateverywordIsaid.Ibegantalking,butrelapsedintosilence.

"DoyouknowwhyIamsoglad,"shesaid,"sogladtolookatyou?—whyIlikeyousomuchto-day?"

"Well?"Iasked,andmyheartbeganthrobbing.

"I likeyoubecauseyouhavenot fallen in lovewithme.Youknow that

somemeninyourplacewouldhavebeenpesteringandworryingme,wouldhavebeensighingandmiserable,whileyouaresonice!"

ThenshewrungmyhandsohardthatIalmostcriedout.Shelaughed.

"Goodness,whatafriendyouare!"shebegangravelyaminutelater."Godsentyoutome.Whatwouldhavehappenedtomeifyouhadnotbeenwithmenow? How disinterested you are! How truly you care for me!When I ammarried we will be great friends, more than brother and sister; I shall carealmostasIdoforhim...."

Ifelthorriblysadatthatmoment,yetsomethinglikelaughterwasstirringinmysoul.

"Youareverymuchupset,"Isaid;"youarefrightened;youthinkhewon'tcome."

"Ohdear!" sheanswered; "if Iwere lesshappy, Ibelieve I shouldcryatyourlackoffaith,atyourreproaches.However,youhavemademethinkandhavegivenmealottothinkabout;butIshallthinklater,andnowIwillownthatyouareright.Yes,Iamsomehownotmyself;Iamallsuspense,andfeeleverythingasitweretoolightly.Buthush!that'senoughaboutfeelings...."

At thatmomentweheard footsteps,and in thedarknesswesawa figurecomingtowardsus.Webothstarted;shealmostcriedout;Idroppedherhandandmadeamovementasthoughtowalkaway.Butweweremistaken,itwasnothe.

"Whatareyouafraidof?Whydidyouletgoofmyhand?"shesaid,givingit tomeagain."Come,what is it?Wewillmeethimtogether;Iwanthimtoseehowfondweareofeachother."

"How fondwe are of each other!" I cried. ("Oh,Nastenka,Nastenka," Ithought,"howmuchyouhavetoldmeinthatsaying!Suchfondnessatcertainmomentsmakes the heart cold and the soul heavy.Your hand is cold,mineburnslikefire.Howblindyouare,Nastenka!...Oh,howunbearableahappypersonissometimes!ButIcouldnotbeangrywithyou!")

Atlastmyheartwastoofull.

"Listen,Nastenka!" I cried. "Do you know how it has beenwithme allday."

"Why, how, how? Tell me quickly!Why have you said nothing all thistime?"

"Tobeginwith,Nastenka,when I had carried out all your commissions,giventheletter,gonetoseeyourgoodfriends,then...thenIwenthomeandwenttobed."

"Isthatall?"sheinterrupted,laughing.

"Yes, almost all," I answered restraining myself, for foolish tears werealready starting intomy eyes. "Iwoke anhour before our appointment, andyet, as itwere, I hadnot been asleep. I don't knowwhathappened tome. Icametotellyouallaboutit,feelingasthoughtimewerestandingstill,feelingasthoughonesensation,onefeelingmustremainwithmefromthattimeforever;feelingasthoughoneminutemustgoonforalleternity,andasthoughalllifehadcometoastandstillforme....WhenIwokeupitseemedasthoughsomemusical motive long familiar, heard somewhere in the past, forgottenandvoluptuouslysweet,hadcomebacktomenow.Itseemedtomethatithadbeenclamouringatmyheartallmylife,andonlynow...."

"Ohmygoodness,mygoodness,"Nastenkainterrupted,"whatdoesallthatmean?Idon'tunderstandaword."

"Ah, Nastenka, I wanted somehow to convey to you that strangeimpression...."Ibeganinaplaintivevoice,inwhichtherestilllayhidahope,thoughaveryfaintone.

"Leaveoff.Hush!"shesaid,andinoneinstanttheslypusshadguessed.

Suddenlyshebecameextraordinarilytalkative,gay,mischievous;shetookmyarm,laughed,wantedmetolaughtoo,andeveryconfusedwordIutteredevokedfromherprolongedringinglaughter....Ibegantofeelangry,shehadsuddenlybegunflirting.

"Doyouknow,"shebegan,"I feela littlevexed thatyouarenot in lovewith me? There's no understanding human nature! But all the same, Mr.Unapproachable, you cannot blame me for being so simple; I tell youeverything,everything,whateverfoolishthoughtcomesintomyhead."

"Listen!That'seleven, Ibelieve," Isaidas theslowchimeofabell rangoutfromadistanttower.Shesuddenlystopped,leftofflaughingandbegantocount.

"Yes,it'seleven,"shesaidatlastinatimid,uncertainvoice.

IregrettedatoncethatIhadfrightenedher,makinghercountthestrokes,andIcursedmyself formyspiteful impulse; I feltsorryforher,anddidnotknowhowtoatoneforwhatIhaddone.

Ibegancomfortingher,seekingforreasonsforhisnotcoming,advancingvariousarguments,proofs.Noonecouldhavebeeneasiertodeceivethanshewasatthatmoment;and,indeed,anyoneatsuchamomentlistensgladlytoanyconsolation,whateveritmaybe,andisoverjoyedifashadowofexcusecanbefound.

"And indeed it's an absurd thing," I began, warming to my task and

admiringtheextraordinaryclearnessofmyargument,"why,hecouldnothavecome;youhavemuddledandconfusedme,Nastenka,sothatItoo,havelostcount of the time.... Only think: he can scarcely have received the letter;supposeheisnotabletocome,supposeheisgoingtoanswertheletter,couldnotcomebeforeto-morrow.Iwillgoforitassoonasit'slightto-morrowandletyouknowatonce.Consider,therearethousandsofpossibilities;perhapshewasnot athomewhen the letter came,andmaynothave read it evennow!Anythingmayhappen,youknow."

"Yes,yes!"saidNastenka."Ididnotthinkofthat.Ofcourseanythingmayhappen?"shewentoninatonethatofferednoopposition,thoughsomeotherfar-awaythoughtcouldbeheardlikeavexatiousdiscordinit."Itellyouwhatyoumustdo,"shesaid,"yougoasearlyaspossibleto-morrowmorning,andifyougetanythingletmeknowatonce.YouknowwhereIlive,don'tyou?"

Andshebeganrepeatingheraddresstome.

Thenshesuddenlybecamesotender,sosolicitouswithme.Sheseemedtolistenattentively towhatI toldher;butwhenIaskedhersomequestionshewassilent,wasconfused,andturnedherheadaway.Ilookedintohereyes—yes,shewascrying.

"How can you? How can you? Oh, what a baby you are! whatchildishness!...Come,come!"

She tried to smile, to calm herself, but her chin was quivering and herbosomwasstillheaving.

"Iwasthinkingaboutyou,"shesaidafteraminute'ssilence."Youaresokind that I should be a stone if I did not feel it. Do you know what hasoccurredtomenow?Iwascomparingyoutwo.Whyisn'theyou?Whyisn'thelikeyou?Heisnotasgoodasyou,thoughIlovehimmorethanyou."

Imadenoanswer.Sheseemedtoexpectmetosaysomething.

"Ofcourse,itmaybethatIdon'tunderstandhimfullyyet.YouknowIwasalwaysasitwereafraidofhim;hewasalwayssograve,asitweresoproud.Of course I know it's only that he seems like that, I know there is moretendernessinhisheartthaninmine....IrememberhowhelookedatmewhenIwentintohim—doyouremember?—withmybundle;butyetIrespecthimtoomuch,anddoesn'tthatshowthatwearenotequals?"

"No,Nastenka, no," I answered, "it shows that you love himmore thananythingintheworld,andfarmorethanyourself."

"Yes,supposingthatisso,"answeredNastenkanaïvely."Butdoyouknowwhat strikes me now? Only I am not talking about him now, but speakinggenerally;all thiscameintomymindsometimeago.Tellme,howis it that

we can't all be like brothers together?Why is it that even the best of menalways seem to hide something from other people and to keep somethingback?Whynot saystraightoutwhat is inone'sheart,whenoneknows thatoneisnotspeakingidly?Asitiseveryoneseemsharsherthanhereallyis,asthoughallwereafraidofdoinginjusticetotheirfeelings,bybeingtooquicktoexpressthem."

"Oh,Nastenka,whatyousayistrue;buttherearemanyreasonsforthat,"Ibrokeinsuppressingmyownfeelingsatthatmomentmorethanever.

"No,no!"sheansweredwithdeepfeeling."Hereyou,forinstance,arenotlikeotherpeople!Ireallydon'tknowhowtotellyouwhatIfeel;butitseemstomethatyou,forinstance...atthepresentmoment...itseemstomethatyouaresacrificingsomethingforme,"sheaddedtimidly,withafleetingglanceatme."Forgivemeforsayingso,Iamasimplegirlyouknow.Ihaveseenverylittleoflife,andIreallysometimesdon'tknowhowtosaythings,"sheaddedin a voice that quiveredwith somehidden feeling,while she tried to smile;"butIonlywantedtotellyouthatIamgrateful,thatIfeelitalltoo....Oh,mayGodgiveyouhappinessforit!Whatyoutoldmeaboutyourdreamerisquiteuntruenow—thatis,Imean,it'snottrueofyou.Youarerecovering,youarequiteadifferentman fromwhatyoudescribed. Ifyouever fall in lovewithsomeone,Godgiveyouhappinesswithher!Iwon'twishanythingforher,forshe will be happy with you. I know, I am a woman myself, so you mustbelievemewhenItellyouso."

Sheceasedspeaking,andpressedmyhandwarmly.Itoocouldnotspeakwithoutemotion.Someminutespassed.

"Yes, it's clearhewon't come to-night," she saidat last raisingherhead."It'slate."

"Hewillcometo-morrow,"Isaidinthemostfirmandconvincingtone.

"Yes,"sheaddedwithnosignofherformerdepression."Iseeformyselfnowthathecouldnotcometillto-morrow.Well,good-bye,tillto-morrow.Ifitrains perhaps I shall not come.But theday after to-morrow, I shall come. Ishallcomeforcertain,whateverhappens;besuretobehere,Iwanttoseeyou,Iwilltellyoueverything."

And thenwhenwepartedshegavemeherhandandsaid, lookingatmecandidly:"Weshallalwaysbetogether,shan'twe?"

Oh,Nastenka,Nastenka!IfonlyyouknewhowlonelyIamnow!

Assoonas it strucknineo'clockIcouldnotstay indoors,butputonmythings,andwentoutinspiteoftheweather.Iwasthere,sittingonourseat.Iwenttoherstreet,butIfeltashamed,andturnedbackwithoutlookingattheir

windows,whenIwastwostepsfromherdoor.Iwenthomemoredepressedthan Ihadeverbeenbefore.Whatadamp,drearyday! If ithadbeen fine Ishouldhavewalkedaboutallnight....

But to-morrow, to-morrow! To-morrow shewill tellme everything. Theletter has not come to-day, however.But thatwas to be expected. They aretogetherbynow....

FOURTHNIGHT

MyGod,howithasallended!Whatithasallendedin!Iarrivedatnineo'clock.Shewasalreadythere.Inoticedheragoodwayoff;shewasstandingasshehadbeenthatfirsttime,withherelbowsontherailing,andshedidnothearmecominguptoher.

"Nastenka!"Icalledtoher,suppressingmyagitationwithaneffort.

Sheturnedtomequickly.

"Well?"shesaid."Well?Makehaste!"

Ilookedatherinperplexity.

"Well, where is the letter? Have you brought the letter?" she repeatedclutchingattherailing.

"No, there is no letter," I said at last. "Hasn't he been to you yet?" Sheturnedfearfullypaleandlookedatmeforalongtimewithoutmoving.Ihadshatteredherlasthope.

"Well,Godbewithhim,"shesaidatlastinabreakingvoice;"Godbewithhimifheleavesmelikethat."

Shedroppedhereyes,thentriedtolookatmeandcouldnot.Forseveralminutes shewas strugglingwith her emotion.All at once she turned away,leaningherelbowsagainsttherailingandburstintotears.

"Ohdon't,don't!"Ibegan;butlookingatherIhadnotthehearttogoon,andwhatwasItosaytoher?

"Don't tryandcomfortme,"shesaid;"don't talkabouthim;don't tellmethathewillcome,thathehasnotcastmeoffsocruellyandsoinhumanlyashehas.Whatfor—whatfor?Cantherehavebeensomethinginmyletter,thatunluckyletter?"

Atthatpointsobsstifledhervoice;myheartwastornasIlookedather.

"Oh,howinhumanlycruel it is!"shebeganagain."Andnota line,notaline!Hemightatleasthavewrittenthathedoesnotwantme,thatherejectsme—butnotalineforthreedays!Howeasyitisforhimtowound,toinsultapoor,defencelessgirl,whoseonly fault is that she loveshim!Oh,what I'vesufferedduringthesethreedays!Oh,dear!WhenIthinkthatIwasthefirsttogo to him, that I humbledmyself before him, cried, that I begged of him alittlelove!...andafterthat!Listen,"shesaid,turningtome,andherblackeyesflashed,"itisn'tso!Itcan'tbeso;itisn'tnatural.EitheryouaremistakenorI;perhapshehasnotreceivedtheletter?Perhapshestillknowsnothingaboutit?Howcouldanyone—judgeforyourself,tellme,forgoodness'sakeexplainittome,Ican'tunderstandit—howcouldanyonebehavewithsuchbarbarouscoarsenessashehasbehavedtome?Notoneword!Why,thelowestcreatureon earth is treated more compassionately. Perhaps he has heard something,perhapssomeonehastoldhimsomethingaboutme,"shecried,turningtomeinquiringly:"Whatdoyouthink?"

"Listen,Nastenka,Ishallgotohimto-morrowinyourname."

"Yes?"

"Iwillquestionhimabouteverything;Iwilltellhimeverything."

"Yes,yes?"

"Youwritealetter.Don'tsayno,Nastenka,don'tsayno!Iwillmakehimrespectyouraction,heshallhearallaboutit,andif——"

"No, my friend, no," she interrupted. "Enough! Not another word, notanotherlinefromme—enough!Idon'tknowhim;Idon'tlovehimanymore.Iwill...forgethim."

Shecouldnotgoon.

"Calmyourself,calmyourself!Sithere,Nastenka,"Isaid,makinghersitdownontheseat.

"Iamcalm.Don't trouble.It'snothing!It'sonlytears, theywillsoondry.Why,doyou imagineIshalldoawaywithmyself, that Ishall throwmyselfintotheriver?"

Myheartwasfull:Itriedtospeak,butIcouldnot.

"Listen," she said takingmyhand. "Tellme: youwouldn't havebehavedlikethis,wouldyou?Youwouldnothaveabandonedagirlwhohadcometoyouofherself,youwouldnothavethrownintoherfaceashamelesstauntatherweakfoolishheart?Youwouldhave takencareofher?Youwouldhaverealized that shewasalone, that shedidnotknowhowto lookafterherself,thatshecouldnotguardherselffromlovingyou,thatitwasnotherfault,notherfault—thatshehaddonenothing....Ohdear,ohdear!"

"Nastenka!"Icriedatlast,unabletocontrolmyemotion."Nastenka,youtortureme!Youwoundmyheart,youarekillingme,Nastenka! I cannotbesilent!Imustspeakatlast,giveutterancetowhatissurginginmyheart!"

AsIsaidthisIgotupfromtheseat.Shetookmyhandandlookedatmeinsurprise.

"Whatisthematterwithyou?"shesaidatlast.

"Listen," I said resolutely. "Listen tome,Nastenka!What I amgoing tosaytoyounowisallnonsense,allimpossible,allstupid!Iknowthatthiscanneverbe,butIcannotbesilent.Forthesakeofwhatyouaresufferingnow,Ibegyoubeforehandtoforgiveme!"

"What is it? What is it?" she said drying her tears and looking at meintently,whileastrangecuriositygleamedinherastonishedeyes."Whatisthematter?"

"It's impossible,butI loveyou,Nastenka!Thereit is!Noweverythingistold,"Isaidwithawaveofmyhand."Nowyouwillseewhetheryoucangoon talking tome as you did just now,whether you can listen towhat I amgoingtosaytoyou."...

"Well, what then?" Nastenka interrupted me. "What of it? I knew youloved me long ago, only I always thought that you simply liked me verymuch....Ohdear,ohdear!"

"At first itwas simply liking,Nastenka, but now, now! I am just in thesamepositionasyouwerewhenyouwenttohimwithyourbundle.Inaworsepositionthanyou,Nastenka,becausehecaredfornooneelseasyoudo."

"Whatareyousaying tome! Idon'tunderstandyou in the least.But tellme,what's thisfor;Idon'tmeanwhatfor,butwhyareyou...sosuddenly....Ohdear,Iamtalkingnonsense!Butyou...."

AndNastenkabrokeoffinconfusion.Hercheeksflamed;shedroppedhereyes.

"What's to be done, Nastenka, what am I to do? I am to blame. I haveabusedyour....But no, no, I amnot to blame,Nastenka; I feel that, I knowthat,becausemyhearttellsmeIamright,forIcannothurtyouinanyway,Icannot wound you! I was your friend, but I am still your friend, I havebetrayednotrust.Heremytearsarefalling,Nastenka.Letthemflow,letthemflow—theydon'thurtanybody.Theywilldry,Nastenka."

"Sitdown,sitdown,"shesaid,makingmesitdownontheseat."Oh,myGod!"

"No,Nastenka,Iwon'tsitdown;Icannotstayhereanylonger,youcannot

seemeagain;Iwilltellyoueverythingandgoaway.Ionlywanttosaythatyou would never have found out that I loved you. I should have kept mysecret.Iwouldnothaveworriedyouatsuchamomentwithmyegoism.No!But I couldnot resist it now;you spokeof it yourself, it is your fault, yourfaultandnotmine.Youcannotdrivemeawayfromyou."...

"No, no, I don't drive you away, no!" said Nastenka, concealing herconfusionasbestshecould,poorchild.

"Youdon'tdrivemeaway?No!ButImeanttorunfromyoumyself.Iwillgoaway,butfirstIwilltellyouall,forwhenyouwerecryinghereIcouldnotsitunmoved,whenyouwept,whenyouwereintortureatbeing—atbeing—Iwill speakof it,Nastenka—atbeing forsaken,atyour lovebeing repulsed, Ifeltthatinmyhearttherewassomuchloveforyou,Nastenka,somuchlove!AnditseemedsobitterthatIcouldnothelpyouwithmylove,thatmyheartwasbreakingandI...Icouldnotbesilent,Ihadtospeak,Nastenka,Ihadtospeak!"

"Yes, yes! tell me, talk to me," said Nastenka with an indescribablegesture."PerhapsyouthinkitstrangethatItalktoyoulikethis,but...speak!Iwilltellyouafterwards!Iwilltellyoueverything."

"You are sorry forme,Nastenka, you are simply sorry forme,my dearlittlefriend!What'sdonecan'tbemended.Whatissaidcannotbetakenback.Isn't that so?Well,nowyouknow.That's thestarting-point.Verywell.Nowit'sallright,onlylisten.WhenyouweresittingcryingIthoughttomyself(oh,letmetellyouwhatIwas thinking!), I thought, that (ofcourse itcannotbe,Nastenka), I thought that you ... I thought that you somehow ... quite apartfromme,hadceasedtolovehim.Then—Ithoughtthatyesterdayandthedaybefore yesterday, Nastenka—then I would—I certainly would—havesucceeded inmaking you loveme; you know, you said yourself, Nastenka,thatyoualmostlovedme.Well,whatnext?Well,that'snearlyallIwantedtotellyou;all that is left tosay ishowitwouldbe ifyoulovedme,only that,nothingmore!Listen,my friend—for anywayyouaremy friend—Iam,ofcourse,apoor,humbleman,ofnogreatconsequence;butthat'snotthepoint(Idon'tseemtobeabletosaywhatImean,Nastenka,Iamsoconfused),onlyIwouldloveyou,Iwouldloveyouso,thatevenifyoustilllovedhim,evenifyouwentonlovingthemanIdon'tknow,youwouldneverfeelthatmylovewasaburdentoyou.Youwouldonlyfeeleveryminutethatatyoursidewasbeating a grateful, grateful heart, a warm heart ready for your sake.... OhNastenka,Nastenka!Whathaveyoudonetome?"

"Don'tcry;Idon'twantyoutocry,"saidNastenkagettingupquicklyfromtheseat. "Comealong,getup,comewithme,don'tcry,don'tcry,"shesaid,dryinghertearswithherhandkerchief;"letusgonow;maybeIwilltellyou

something....Ifhehasforsakenmenow,ifhehasforgottenme,thoughIstilllovehim(Idonotwanttodeceiveyou)...butlisten,answerme.IfIweretoloveyou,forinstance,thatis,ifIonly....Ohmyfriend,myfriend!Tothink,tothinkhowIwoundedyou,whenIlaughedatyourlove,whenIpraisedyoufornotfallinginlovewithme.Ohdear!HowwasitIdidnotforeseethis,howwasitIdidnotforeseethis,howcouldIhavebeensostupid?But....Well,Ihavemadeupmymind,Iwilltellyou."

"Lookhere,Nastenka,doyouknowwhat?I'llgoaway,that'swhatI'lldo.Iamsimplytormentingyou.Hereyouareremorsefulforhavinglaughedatme,andIwon'thaveyou...inadditiontoyoursorrow....Ofcourseitismyfault,Nastenka,butgood-bye!"

"Stay,listentome:canyouwait?"

"Whatfor?How?"

"I lovehim;butIshallgetover it, Imustgetover it, Icannotfail togetoverit;Iamgettingoverit,Ifeelthat....Whoknows?Perhapsitwillallendto-day, for Ihatehim, forhehasbeen laughingatme,whileyouhavebeenweepingherewithme,foryouhavenotrepulsedmeashehas,foryoulovemewhilehehasneverlovedme,forinfact,Iloveyoumyself....Yes,Iloveyou! I love you as you love me; I have told you so before, you heard ityourself—Iloveyoubecauseyouarebetterthanheis,becauseyouarenoblerthanheis,because,becausehe——"

Thepoorgirl'semotionwassoviolentthatshecouldnotsaymore;shelaidher head upon my shoulder, then upon my bosom, and wept bitterly. Icomforted her, I persuaded her, but she could not stop crying; she keptpressingmyhand,andsayingbetweenhersobs:"Wait,wait,itwillbeoverinaminute!Iwanttotellyou...youmustn'tthinkthatthesetears—it'snothing,it'sweakness,waittillit'sover."...Atlastsheleftoffcrying,driedhereyesandwewalkedonagain. Iwanted tospeak,butshestillbeggedme towait.Weweresilent....Atlastshepluckedupcourageandbegantospeak.

"It's like this," she began in a weak and quivering voice, in which,however, there was a note that piercedmy heart with a sweet pang; "don'tthinkthatIamsolightandinconstant,don'tthinkthatIcanforgetandchangesoquickly.Ihavelovedhimforawholeyear,andIswearbyGodthatIhavenever,never,eveninthought,beenunfaithfultohim....Hehasdespisedme,hehas been laughing at me—God forgive him! But he has insulted me andwounded my heart. I ... I do not love him, for I can only love what ismagnanimous, what understands me, what is generous; for I am like thatmyselfandheisnotworthyofme—well,that'senoughofhim.Hehasdonebetterthanifhehaddeceivedmyexpectationslater,andshownmelaterwhathe was.... Well, it's over! But who knows, my dear friend," she went on

pressing my hand, "who knows, perhaps my whole love was a mistakenfeeling,adelusion—perhapsitbeganinmischief,innonsense,becauseIwaskeptsostrictlybygrandmother?PerhapsIoughttoloveanotherman,nothim,adifferentman,whowouldhavepityonmeand...and....Butdon'tletussayanymore about that," Nastenka broke off, breathless with emotion, "I onlywantedtotellyou...Iwantedtotellyouthatif,althoughIlovehim(no,didlovehim), if, in spite of this you still say.... If you feel that your love is sogreatthatitmayatlastdrivefrommyheartmyoldfeeling—ifyouwillhavepityonme—ifyoudonotwant to leavemealonetomyfate,withouthope,without consolation—ifyou are ready to loveme always as youdonow—Iswear to you that gratitude ... that my love will be at last worthy of yourlove....Willyoutakemyhand?"

"Nastenka!"Icriedbreathlesswithsobs."Nastenka,ohNastenka!"

"Enough, enough!Well, now it's quite enough," she said, hardly able tocontrolherself."Well,nowallhasbeensaid,hasn'tit!Hasn'tit?Youarehappy—I am happy too. Not another word about it, wait; spare me ... talk ofsomethingelse,forGod'ssake."

"Yes, Nastenka, yes! Enough about that, now I am happy. I—— Yes,Nastenka,yes,letustalkofotherthings,letusmakehasteandtalk.Yes!Iamready."

And we did not know what to say: we laughed, we wept, we saidthousands of thingsmeaningless and incoherent; at onemomentwewalkedalongthepavement,thensuddenlyturnedbackandcrossedtheroad;thenwestoppedandwentbackagaintotheembankment;wewerelikechildren.

"Iamlivingalonenow,Nastenka,"Ibegan,"butto-morrow!Ofcourseyouknow,Nastenka,Iampoor,Ihaveonlygot twelvehundredroubles,but thatdoesn'tmatter."

"Ofcoursenot,andgrannyhasherpension,soshewillbenoburden.Wemusttakegranny."

"Ofcoursewemusttakegranny.Butthere'sMatrona."

"Yes,andwe'vegotFyoklatoo!"

"Matronaisagoodwoman,butshehasonefault:shehasnoimagination,Nastenka,absolutelynone;butthatdoesn'tmatter."

"That's all right—they can live together; only you must move to us to-morrow."

"Toyou?Howso?Allright,Iamready."

"Yes,hirearoomfromus.Wehaveatopfloor,it'sempty.Wehadanold

ladylodgingthere,butshehasgoneaway;andIknowgrannywouldliketohave a young man. I said to her, 'Why a young man?' And she said, 'Oh,becauseIamold;onlydon'tyoufancy,Nastenka,thatIwanthimasahusbandforyou.'SoIguesseditwaswiththatidea."

"Oh,Nastenka!"

Andwebothlaughed.

"Come, that's enough, that's enough. But where do you live? I'veforgotten."

"Overthatway,nearXbridge,Barannikov'sBuildings."

"It'sthatbighouse?"

"Yes,thatbighouse."

"Oh, Iknow,anicehouse;onlyyouknowyouhadbettergive itupandcometousassoonaspossible."

"To-morrow,Nastenka,to-morrow;Iowealittleformyrenttherebutthatdoesn'tmatter.Ishallsoongetmysalary."

"And do you know I will perhaps give lessons; I will learn somethingmyselfandthengivelessons."

"Capital!AndIshallsoongetabonus."

"Sobyto-morrowyouwillbemylodger."

"AndwewillgotoTheBarberofSeville,fortheyaresoongoingtogiveitagain."

"Yes,we'llgo,"saidNastenka,"butbetterseesomethingelseandnotTheBarberofSeville."

"Verywell, something else.Of course thatwill bebetter, I didnot think——"

As we talked like this we walked along in a sort of delirium, a sort ofintoxication, as thoughwe did not knowwhatwas happening to us.At onemomentwestoppedandtalkedforalongtimeatthesameplace;thenwewenton again, and goodness knows where we went; and again tears and againlaughter.AllofasuddenNastenkawouldwanttogohome,andIwouldnotdaretodetainherbutwouldwanttoseehertothehouse;wesetoff,andinaquarterofanhourfoundourselvesat theembankmentbyourseat.Thenshewouldsigh,andtearswouldcomeintohereyesagain;Iwouldturnchillwithdismay.... But she would press my hand and force me to walk, to talk, tochatterasbefore.

"It'stimeIwashomeatlast;Ithinkitmustbeverylate,"Nastenkasaidatlast."Wemustgiveoverbeingchildish."

"Yes,Nastenka,onlyIshan'tsleepto-night;Iamnotgoinghome."

"Idon'tthinkIshallsleepeither;onlyseemehome."

"Ishouldthinkso!"

"Onlythistimewereallymustgettothehouse."

"Wemust,wemust."

"Honourbright?Foryouknowonemustgohomesometime!"

"Honourbright,"Iansweredlaughing.

"Well,comealong!"

"Come along! Look at the sky,Nastenka. Look! To-morrow itwill be alovelyday;whatabluesky,whatamoon!Look;thatyellowcloudiscoveringitnow,look,look!No,ithaspassedby.Look,look!"

ButNastenkadidnotlookatthecloud;shestoodmuteasthoughturnedtostone;aminutelatershehuddledtimidlycloseuptome.Herhandtrembledinmyhand;Ilookedather.Shepressedstillmorecloselytome.

Atthatmomentayoungmanpassedbyus.Hesuddenlystopped,lookedatusintently,andthenagaintookafewstepson.Myheartbeganthrobbing.

"Whoisit,Nastenka?"Isaidinanundertone.

"It'she,"sheansweredinawhisper,huddlinguptome,stillmoreclosely,stillmoretremulously....Icouldhardlystandonmyfeet.

"Nastenka,Nastenka!It'syou!"Iheardavoicebehindusandatthesamemomenttheyoungmantookseveralstepstowardsus.

MyGod,howshecriedout!Howshestarted!Howshetoreherselfoutofmyarmsandrushedtomeethim!Istoodandlookedatthem,utterlycrushed.Butshehadhardlygivenhimherhand,hadhardlyflungherselfintohisarms,when she turned tome again,was besideme again in a flash, and before IknewwhereIwasshethrewbotharmsroundmyneckandgavemeawarm,tenderkiss.Then,withoutsayingawordtome,sherushedbacktohimagain,tookhishand,anddrewhimafterher.

Istoodalongtimelookingafterthem.Atlastthetwovanishedfrommysight.

MORNING

Mynightendedwiththemorning.Itwasawetday.Therainwasfallingandbeatingdisconsolatelyuponmywindowpane;itwasdarkintheroomandgrey outside.My head ached and I was giddy; fever was stealing overmylimbs.

"There's a letter for you, sir; the postman brought it," Matrona saidstoopingoverme.

"Aletter?Fromwhom?"Icriedjumpingupfrommychair.

"Idon'tknow,sir,betterlook—maybeitiswrittentherewhomitisfrom."

Ibroketheseal.Itwasfromher!

*****

"Oh, forgive me, forgive me! I beg you on my knees to forgive me! Ideceivedyouandmyself.Itwasadream,amirage....Myheartachesforyouto-day;forgiveme,forgiveme!

"Don'tblameme,forIhavenotchangedtoyouintheleast.ItoldyouthatIwouldloveyou,Iloveyounow,Imorethanloveyou.Oh,myGod!IfonlyIcouldloveyoubothatonce!Oh,ifonlyyouwerehe!"

["Oh,ifonlyhewereyou,"echoedinmymind.Irememberedyourwords,Nastenka!]

"Godknowswhat Iwoulddo foryounow! Iknow thatyouare sadanddreary. Ihavewoundedyou,butyouknowwhenone lovesawrong is soonforgotten.Andyouloveme.

"Thankyou,yes, thankyou for that love!For itwill live inmymemorylikeasweetdreamwhichlingerslongafterawakening;forIshallrememberforeverthatinstantwhenyouopenedyourhearttomelikeabrotherandsogenerouslyacceptedthegiftofmyshatteredhearttocareforit,nurseit,andhealit....Ifyouforgiveme,thememoryofyouwillbeexaltedbyafeelingofeverlasting gratitude which will never be effaced from my soul.... I willtreasurethatmemory:Iwillbetruetoit,Iwillnotbetrayit,Iwillnotbetraymyheart:itistooconstant.Itreturnedsoquicklyyesterdaytohimtowhomithasalwaysbelonged.

"Weshallmeet,youwillcometous,youwillnotleaveus,youwillbeforeverafriend,abrother tome.Andwhenyouseemeyouwillgivemeyourhand...yes?Youwillgiveittome,youhaveforgivenme,haven'tyou?Youlovemeasbefore?

"Oh, loveme,donot forsakeme,because I loveyou soat thismoment,becauseIamworthyofyourlove,becauseIwilldeserveit...mydear!Next

week I am to be married to him. He has come back in love, he has neverforgottenme.Youwillnotbeangryatmywritingabouthim.But Iwant tocomeandseeyouwithhim;youwilllikehim,won'tyou?

"Forgiveme,rememberandloveyour

"Nastenka."

*****

Iread that letteroverandoveragainfora long time; tearsgushed tomyeyes.AtlastitfellfrommyhandsandIhidmyface.

"Dearie!Isay,dearie——"Matronabegan.

"Whatisit,Matrona?"

"Ihavetakenall thecobwebsoff theceiling;youcanhaveaweddingorgiveaparty."

I looked atMatrona. Shewas still a hearty, youngish old woman, but Idon't know why all at once I suddenly pictured her with lustreless eyes, awrinkledface,bent,decrepit....Idon'tknowwhyIsuddenlypicturedmyroomgrown old like Matrona. The walls and the floors looked discoloured,everything seemed dingy; the spiders' webs were thicker than ever. I don'tknowwhy, but when I looked out of the window it seemed tome that thehouseoppositehadgrownoldanddingytoo, that thestuccoonthecolumnswaspeelingoffandcrumbling,thatthecorniceswerecrackedandblackened,andthatthewalls,ofavividdeepyellow,werepatchy.

Either thesunbeamssuddenlypeepingout fromthecloudsforamomentwerehiddenagainbehindaveilofrain,andeverythinghadgrowndingyagainbeforemyeyes;orperhapsthewholevistaofmyfutureflashedbeforemesosadandforbidding,andIsawmyself justas Iwasnow,fifteenyearshence,older, in the same room, just as solitary, with the sameMatrona grown noclevererforthosefifteenyears.

But to imagine that I shouldbearyouagrudge,Nastenka!That I shouldcast a dark cloud over your serene, untroubled happiness; that bymy bitterreproachesIshouldcausedistress toyourheart, shouldpoison itwithsecretremorseandshouldforceittothrobwithanguishatthemomentofbliss;thatIshouldcrushasingleoneofthosetenderblossomswhichyouhavetwinedinyourdarktresseswhenyougowithhimtothealtar....Ohnever,never!Mayyour skybeclear,mayyour sweet smilebebright anduntroubled, andmayyou be blessed for that moment of blissful happiness which you gave toanother,lonelyandgratefulheart!

MyGod,awholemomentofhappiness!Isthattoolittleforthewholeofaman'slife?