White nights, and other storiesDostoyevsky, Fyodor
General
White nights, and other stories
Dostoyevsky, Fyodor
Dostoyevsky, Fyodor, 1821-1881 -- Translations into English; Russian fiction -- Translations into English
reconciled and drink to our everlasting friendship; but what was most
bitter and most humiliating for me was that I knew even then, knew fully
and for certain, that I needed nothing of all this really, that I did
not really want to crush, to subdue, to attract them, and that I did not
care a straw really for the result, even if I did achieve it. Oh, how I
prayed for the day to pass quickly! In unutterable anguish I went to the
window, opened the movable pane and looked out into the troubled
darkness of the thickly falling wet snow. At last my wretched little
clock hissed out five. I seized my hat and trying not to look at
Apollon, who had been all day expecting his month's wages, but in his
foolishness was unwilling to be the first to speak about it, I slipt
between him and the door and jumping into a high-class sledge, on which
I spent my last half rouble, I drove up in grand style to the Hôtel de
Paris.
IV
I had been certain the day before that I should be the first to arrive.
But it was not a question of being the first to arrive. Not only were
they not there, but I had difficulty in finding our room. The table was
not laid even. What did it mean? After a good many questions I elicited
from the waiters that the dinner had been ordered not for five, but for
six o'clock. This was confirmed at the buffet too. I felt really ashamed
to go on questioning them. It was only twenty-five minutes past five. If
they changed the dinner hour they ought at least to have let me
know--that is what the post is for, and not to have put me in an absurd
position in my own eyes and ... and even before the waiters. I sat down;
the servant began laying the table; I felt even more humiliated when he
was present. Towards six o'clock they brought in candles, though there
were lamps burning in the room. It had not occurred to the waiter,
however, to bring them in at once when I arrived. In the next room two
gloomy, angry-looking persons were eating their dinners in silence at
two different tables. There was a great deal of noise, even shouting, in
a room further away; one could hear the laughter of a crowd of people,
and nasty little shrieks in French: there were ladies at the dinner. It
was sickening, in fact. I rarely passed more unpleasant moments, so much
so that when they did arrive all together punctually at six I was
overjoyed to see them, as though they were my deliverers, and even
forgot that it was incumbent upon me to show resentment.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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