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
"They won't go down on their knees to beg for my friendship. That is a
mirage, cheap mirage, revolting, romantic and fantastical--that's
another ball on Lake Como. And so I am bound to slap Zverkov's face! It
is my duty to. And so it is settled; I am flying to give him a slap in
the face. Hurry up!"
The driver tugged at the reins.
"As soon as I go in I'll give it him. Ought I before giving him the slap
to say a few words by way of preface? No. I'll simply go in and give it
him. They will all be sitting in the drawing-room, and he with Olympia
on the sofa. That damned Olympia! She laughed at my looks on one
occasion and refused me. I'll pull Olympia's hair, pull Zverkov's ears!
No, better one ear, and pull him by it round the room. Maybe they will
all begin beating me and will kick me out. That's most likely, indeed.
No matter! Anyway, I shall first slap him; the initiative will be mine;
and by the laws of honour that is everything: he will be branded and
cannot wipe off the slap by any blows, by nothing but a duel. He will be
forced to fight. And let them beat me now. Let them, the ungrateful
wretches! Trudolyubov will beat me hardest, he is so strong; Ferfitchkin
will be sure to catch hold sideways and tug at my hair. But no matter,
no matter! That's what I am going for. The blockheads will be forced at
last to see the tragedy of it all! When they drag me to the door I shall
call out to them that in reality they are not worth my little finger.
Get on, driver, get on!" I cried to the driver. He started and flicked
his whip, I shouted so savagely.
"We shall fight at daybreak, that's a settled thing. I've done with the
office. Ferfitchkin made a joke about it just now. But where can I get
pistols? Nonsense! I'll get my salary in advance and buy them. And
powder, and bullets? That's the second's business. And how can it all be
done by daybreak? And where am I to get a second? I have no friends.
Nonsense!" I cried, lashing myself up more and more. "It's of no
consequence! the first person I meet in the street is bound to be my
second, just as he would be bound to pull a drowning man out of water.
The most eccentric things may happen. Even if I were to ask the director
himself to be my second to-morrow, he would be bound to consent, if only
from a feeling of chivalry, and to keep the secret! Anton Antonitch...."
The fact is, that at that very minute the disgusting absurdity of my
plan and the other side of the question was clearer and more vivid to my
imagination than it could be to any one on earth. But....
"Get on, driver, get on, you rascal, get on!"
"Ugh, sir!" said the son of toil.
Cold shivers suddenly ran down me. Wouldn't it be better ... to go
straight home? My God, my God! Why did I invite myself to this dinner
yesterday? But no, it's impossible. And my walking up and down for three
hours from the table to the stove? No, they, they and no one else must
pay for my walking up and down! They must wipe out this dishonour! Drive
on!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account