Nor could Petenka find sleep, though the journey had tired him exceedingly. He had an affair that could not be settled anywhere except at Golovliovo, but it was a situation of such a nature that he did not know how to meet it. Petenka, indeed, realized full well that his case was hopeless and his trip to Golovliovo would only add to the difficulties of his situation. But the primitive instinct of self-preservation in man overcomes all reason and urges him on to try everything to the very last straw. That's why he had come. But instead of hardening himself so as to be prepared for whatever might come, he had almost from the first word got into a quarrel with his father. What would be the outcome of this trip? Would a miracle happen? Would stone turn into bread? Would it not have been simpler to put the revolver to his temple and say, "Gentlemen, I am unworthy of wearing your uniform. I have embezzled crown money and I pronounce a just, though severe sentence upon myself"? Bang! And all is over. The deceased Lieutenant Golovliov is hereby struck off the list of officers. Yes, how radical that would be and--how beautiful! The comrades would say, "You were unfortunate, you went too far, still you were an honorable man." But instead of acting that way at once, he had brought the affair to a point where it became a matter of common knowledge; and then he had been given leave of absence for a fixed time on condition that within that time he would refund the embezzled sum. If not--out of the regiment! The disgraceful end of his early career! So he had come to Golovliovo, though he knew full well that he would be given a stone instead of bread. But perhaps a miracle would come to change things. Miracles sometimes happen. Perhaps the present Golovliovo would vanish and a new Golovliovo would arise, in which he might----And perhaps grandmother would--hadn't she money? Maybe, if he told her he was in great trouble, she might give him some. Who could tell? "Here," she might say, "hurry, so that you get back before the time is up." And he rode fast, fast--hurried the driver, just made the train and got to the regiment two hours before the respite was over. "Good for you, Golovliov," his comrades would say, "your hand, honorable young man! Let's forget the matter." And he not only remained in the regiment, but was even promoted to staff-captain, then captain, after that adjutant of the regiment (he had been bursar, already) and, finally, on the anniversary day of the regiment----Ah, if only the night would pass quickly! Tomorrow--well, let happen what may tomorrow. But what he would have to listen to! Gods, what would he not be told! Tomorrow--but why tomorrow? He had a whole day yet. He asked for two days just because he wanted to have enough time to move "him." A likely chance! A fine prospect of persuading and touching him! No use----