Political fiction; Russia -- History -- 1801-1917 -- Fiction; Russia -- Officials and employees -- Fiction
not sleep for two or three nights. Indeed, I did not sleep well at that
time, I was in a fever; I had a vague sinking at my heart or else a
sudden throbbing, throbbing, throbbing! Anton Antonitch was surprised
at first, then he frowned, then he reflected, and did after all lend me
the money, receiving from me a written authorisation to take from my
salary a fortnight later the sum that he had lent me.
In this way everything was at last ready. The handsome beaver replaced
the mean-looking raccoon, and I began by degrees to get to work. It
would never have done to act offhand, at random; the plan had to be
carried out skilfully, by degrees. But I must confess that after many
efforts I began to despair: we simply could not run into each other. I
made every preparation, I was quite determined—it seemed as though we
should run into one another directly—and before I knew what I was doing
I had stepped aside for him again and he had passed without noticing
me. I even prayed as I approached him that God would grant me
determination. One time I had made up my mind thoroughly, but it ended
in my stumbling and falling at his feet because at the very last
instant when I was six inches from him my courage failed me. He very
calmly stepped over me, while I flew on one side like a ball. That
night I was ill again, feverish and delirious.
And suddenly it ended most happily. The night before I had made up my
mind not to carry out my fatal plan and to abandon it all, and with
that object I went to the Nevsky for the last time, just to see how I
would abandon it all. Suddenly, three paces from my enemy, I
unexpectedly made up my mind—I closed my eyes, and we ran full tilt,
shoulder to shoulder, against one another! I did not budge an inch and
passed him on a perfectly equal footing! He did not even look round and
pretended not to notice it; but he was only pretending, I am convinced
of that. I am convinced of that to this day! Of course, I got the worst
of it—he was stronger, but that was not the point. The point was that I
had attained my object, I had kept up my dignity, I had not yielded a
step, and had put myself publicly on an equal social footing with him.
I returned home feeling that I was fully avenged for everything. I was
delighted. I was triumphant and sang Italian arias. Of course, I will
not describe to you what happened to me three days later; if you have
read my first chapter you can guess for yourself. The officer was
afterwards transferred; I have not seen him now for fourteen years.
What is the dear fellow doing now? Whom is he walking over?
II
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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