White nights, and other storiesDostoyevsky, Fyodor
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White nights, and other stories
Dostoyevsky, Fyodor
Dostoyevsky, Fyodor, 1821-1881 -- Translations into English; Russian fiction -- Translations into English
"You see, Vasya, you see what a fellow you are! Why, how upset you are
now," said Arkady, whose heart ached at that moment and who remembered
the scene in the street the day before.
"Nonsense, you want me to be calm, but I never have been so calm and
happy! Do you know.... Listen, I want to tell you all about it, but I am
afraid of wounding you.... You keep scolding me and being vexed; and I
am afraid.... See how I am trembling now, I don't know why. You see,
this is what I want to say. I feel as though I had never known myself
before--yes! Yes, I only began to understand other people too,
yesterday. I did not feel or appreciate things fully, brother. My heart
... was hard.... Listen how has it happened, that I have never done good
to any one, any one in the world, because I couldn't--I am not even
pleasant to look at.... But everybody does me good! You, to begin with:
do you suppose I don't see that? Only I said nothing; only I said
nothing."
"Hush, Vasya!"
"Oh, Arkasha! ... it's all right," Vasya interrupted, hardly able to
articulate for tears. "I talked to you yesterday about Yulian
Mastakovitch. And you know yourself how stern and severe he is, even you
have come in for a reprimand from him; yet he deigned to jest with me
yesterday, to show his affection, and kind-heartedness, which he
prudently conceals from every one...."
"Come, Vasya, that only shows you deserve your good fortune."
"Oh, Arkasha! How I longed to finish all this.... No, I shall ruin my
good luck! I feel that! Oh no, not through that," Vasya added, seeing
that Arkady glanced at the heap of urgent work lying on the table,
"that's nothing, that's only paper covered with writing ... it's
nonsense! That matter's settled.... I went to see them to-day, Arkasha;
I did not go in. I felt depressed and sad. I simply stood at the door.
She was playing the piano, I listened. You see, Arkady," he went on,
dropping his voice, "I did not dare to go in."
"I say, Vasya--what is the matter with you? You look at one so
strangely."
"Oh, it's nothing, I feel a little sick; my legs are trembling; it's
because I sat up last night. Yes! Everything looks green before my eyes.
It's here, here----"
He pointed to his heart. He fainted. When he came to himself Arkady
tried to take forcible measures. He tried to compel him to go to bed.
Nothing would induce Vasya to consent. He shed tears, wrung his hands,
wanted to write, was absolutely set on finishing his two pages. To avoid
exciting him Arkady let him sit down to the work.
"Do you know," said Vasya, as he settled himself in his place, "an idea
has occurred to me? There is hope."
He smiled to Arkady, and his pale face lighted up with a gleam of hope.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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