PETUSHKÓV. How's that? Are you divorced? FÉDYA [smiles] No, I left her a widow. PETUSHKÓV. What do you mean? FÉDYA. I mean that she's a widow! I don't exist. PETUSHKÓV. Don't exist? FÉDYA. No, I'm a corpse! Yes ... [Artémyev leans over, listening] Well, you see--I _can_ tell _you_ about it; and besides, it happened long ago; and you don't know my real name. It was this way. When I had tired out my wife and had squandered everything I could lay my hands on, and had become unbearable, a protector turned up for her. Don't imagine that there was anything dirty or bad about it--no, he was my friend and a very good fellow--only in everything my exact opposite! And as there is far more evil than good in me, it follows that he was a good--a very good man: honourable, firm, self-restrained and, in a word, virtuous. He had known my wife from her childhood, and loved her. When she married me he resigned himself to his fate. But later, when I became horrid and tormented her, he began to come oftener to our house. I myself wished it. They fell in love with one another, and meanwhile I went altogether to the bad, and abandoned my wife of my own accord. And besides, there was Másha. I myself advised them to marry. They did not want to, but I became more and more impossible, and it ended in ... PETUSHKÓV. The usual thing? FÉDYA. No. I am sure; I know for certain that they remained pure. He is a religious man, and considers marriage without the Church's blessing a sin. So they began asking me to agree to a divorce. I should have had to take the blame on myself. It would have been necessary to tell all sorts of lies ... and I couldn't! Believe me, it would have been easier for me to take my life than to tell such lies--and I wished to do so. But then a kind friend came and said, "Why do it?" and arranged it all for me. I wrote a farewell letter, and next day my clothes, pocket-book and letters were found on the river bank. I can't swim. PETUSHKÓV. Yes, but how about the body? They did not find that! FÉDYA. They did! Fancy! A week later somebody's body was found. My wife was called to identify the decomposing body. She just glanced at it. "Is it he?" "It is." And so it was left. I was buried, and they married and are living in this town, happily. And I--here I am, living and drinking! Yesterday I passed their house. The windows were lit up, and someone's shadow crossed the blind. Sometimes it's horrid, and sometimes not. It's horrid when I've no money ... [Drinks]. ARTÉMYEV [approaches] Excuse me, but I heard your story. It's a very good story, and more than that--a very useful one! You say it's horrid when one has no money? There's nothing more horrid. But you, in your position, should always have money. Aren't you a corpse? Well then ... FÉDYA. Excuse me! I did not speak to you and don't want your advice.