Historical fiction; Russia -- Social conditions -- 1801-1917 -- Fiction
He was tired of solitude now; a new rush of feeling took hold of him,
and a flood of light chased away the gloom, for a moment, from his
soul. He took a ticket to Pavlofsk, and determined to get there as fast
as he could, but something stopped him; a reality, and not a fantasy,
as he was inclined to think it. He was about to take his place in a
carriage, when he suddenly threw away his ticket and came out again,
disturbed and thoughtful. A few moments later, in the street, he
recalled something that had bothered him all the afternoon. He caught
himself engaged in a strange occupation which he now recollected he had
taken up at odd moments for the last few hours—it was looking about all
around him for something, he did not know what. He had forgotten it for
a while, half an hour or so, and now, suddenly, the uneasy search had
recommenced.
But he had hardly become conscious of this curious phenomenon, when
another recollection suddenly swam through his brain, interesting him
for the moment, exceedingly. He remembered that the last time he had
been engaged in looking around him for the unknown something, he was
standing before a cutler’s shop, in the window of which were exposed
certain goods for sale. He was extremely anxious now to discover
whether this shop and these goods really existed, or whether the whole
thing had been a hallucination.
He felt in a very curious condition today, a condition similar to that
which had preceded his fits in bygone years.
He remembered that at such times he had been particularly absentminded,
and could not discriminate between objects and persons unless he
concentrated special attention upon them.
He remembered seeing something in the window marked at sixty copecks.
Therefore, if the shop existed and if this object were really in the
window, it would prove that he had been able to concentrate his
attention on this article at a moment when, as a general rule, his
absence of mind would have been too great to admit of any such
concentration; in fact, very shortly after he had left the railway
station in such a state of agitation.
So he walked back looking about him for the shop, and his heart beat
with intolerable impatience. Ah! here was the very shop, and there was
the article marked “60 cop.” Of course, it’s sixty copecks, he thought,
and certainly worth no more. This idea amused him and he laughed.
But it was a hysterical laugh; he was feeling terribly oppressed. He
remembered clearly that just here, standing before this window, he had
suddenly turned round, just as earlier in the day he had turned and
found the dreadful eyes of Rogojin fixed upon him. Convinced,
therefore, that in this respect at all events he had been under no
delusion, he left the shop and went on.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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