“But then, I’m a man. I am master of my word. For that which urged me on to this deed was splendid, noble, lofty. I remember very well that rapture which seized me when my thought transpired into action! That was a pure, tremendous feeling. Or was it simply an extravagance of the mind, whipped up by alcohol; the consequence of a sleepless night, smoking, and long, abstract conversations?” And immediately Liubka would appear before him, appear at a distance, as though out of the misty depths of time; awkward, timid, with her homely and endearing face, which had at once come to seem of infinitely close kinship; long, long familiar, and at the same time unpleasant—unjustly, without cause. “Can it be that I’m a coward and a rag?” cried Lichonin inwardly and wrung his hands. “What am I afraid of, before whom am I embarrassed? Have I not always prided myself upon being sole master of my life? Let’s suppose, even, that the phantasy, the extravagance, of making a psychological experiment upon a human soul—a rare experiment, unsuccessful in ninety-nine percent—has entered my head. Is it possible that I must render anybody an account in this, or fear anybody’s opinion? Lichonin! Look down upon mankind from above!” Jennie walked into the room, dishevelled, sleepy, in a night jacket on top of a white underskirt. “A-a!” she yawned, extending her hand to Lichonin. “How d’you do, my dear student! How does your Liubochka feel herself in the new place? Call me in as a guest some time. Or are you spending your honeymoon on the quiet? Without any outside witnesses?” “Drop the silly stuff, Jennechka. I came about the passport.” “So-o. About the passport,” Jennka went into thought. “That is, there’s no passport here, but you must take a blank from the housekeeper. You understand, our usual prostitute’s blank; and then they’ll exchange it for you for a real book at the station house. Only you see, my dear, I will be but ill help to you in this business. They are as like as not to beat me up if I come near a housekeeper or a porter. But here’s what you do. You’d best send the maid for the housekeeper; tell her to say that a certain guest, now, a steady one, has come on business; that it’s very urgent to see her personally. But you must excuse me—I’m going to back out, and don’t you be angry, please. You know yourself—charity begins at home. But why should you hang around by yourself in this here darkness? You’d better go into the cabinet. If you want to, I’ll send you beer there. Or, perhaps you want coffee? Or else,” and her eyes sparkled slyly, “or else a girlie, perhaps? Tamara is busy, but may be Niura or Verka will do?” “Stop it, Jennie! I came about a serious and important matter, but you ...” “Well, well, I won’t, I won’t! I said it just so. I see that you observe faithfulness. That’s very noble on your part. Let’s go, then.”