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regular Lovelace； you understand； we drank an extra 'half…dozen'
and。。。〃 And it went off all right； all this was uttered very
easily； unconstrainedly and complacently。
On reaching home I promptly wrote to Simonov。
To this hour I am lost in admiration when I recall the truly
gentlemanly； good…humoured； candid tone of my letter。 With tact
and good…breeding； and； above all； entirely without superfluous
words； I blamed myself for all that had happened。 I defended
myself； 〃if I really may be allowed to defend myself；〃 by
alleging that being utterly unaccustomed to wine； I had been
intoxicated with the first glass； which I said； I had drunk
before they arrived； while I was waiting for them at the Hotel de
Paris between five and six o'clock。 I begged Simonov's pardon
especially； I asked him to convey my explanations to all the
others； especially to Zverkov； whom 〃I seemed to remember as
though in a dream〃 I had insulted。 I added that I would have
called upon all of them myself； but my head ached； and besides I
had not the face to。 I was particularly pleased with a certain
lightness； almost carelessness （strictly within the bounds of
politeness； however）； which was apparent in my style； and better
than any possible arguments； gave them at once to understand that
I took rather an independent view of 〃all that unpleasantness
last night〃； that I was by no means so utterly crushed as you； my
friends； probably imagine； but on the contrary； looked upon it as
a gentleman serenely respecting himself should look upon it。 〃On
a young hero's past no censure is cast！〃
〃There is actually an aristocratic playfulness about it！〃 I
thought admiringly； as I read over the letter。 〃And it's all
because I am an intellectual and cultivated man！ Another man in
my place would not have known how to extricate himself； but here
I have got out of it and am as jolly as ever again； and all
because I am 'a cultivated and educated man of our day。' And；
indeed； perhaps； everything was due to the wine yesterday。 H'm！〃
。。。no； it was not the wine。 I did not drink anything at all
between five and six when I was waiting for them。 I had lied to
Simonov； I had lied shamelessly； and indeed I wasn't ashamed
now。。。。 Hang it all though； the great thing was that I was rid of
it。
I put six roubles in the letter； sealed it up； and asked Apollon
to take it to Simonov。 When he learned that there was money in
the letter； Apollon became more respectful and agreed to take it。
Towards evening I went out for a walk。 My head was still aching
and giddy after yesterday。 But as evening came on and the
twilight grew denser； my impressions and； following them； my
thoughts； grew more and more different and confused。 Something
was not dead within me； in the depths of my heart and conscience
it would not die； and it showed itself in acute depression。 For
the most part I jostled my way through the most crowded business
streets； along Myeshtchansky Street； along Sadovy Street and in
Yusupov Garden。 I always liked particularly sauntering along
these streets in the dusk； just when there were crowds of working
people of all sorts going home from their daily work； with faces
looking cross with anxiety。 What I liked was just that cheap
bustle； that bare prose。 On this occasion the jostling of the
streets irritated me more than ever； I could not make out what
was wrong with me； I could not find the clue； something seemed
rising up continually in my soul； painfully； and refusing to be
appeased。 I returned home completely upset； it was just as
though some crime were lying on my conscience。
The thought that Liza was coming worried me continually。 It
seemed queer to me that of all my recollections of yesterday this
tormented me； as it were； especially； as it were； quite
separately。 Everything else I had quite succeeded in forgetting
by the evening； I dismissed it all and was still perfectly
satisfied with my letter to Simonov。 But on this point I was not
satisfied at all。 It was as though I were worried only by Liza。
〃What if she comes；〃 I thought incessantly； 〃well； it doesn't
matter； let her come！ H'm！ it's horrid that she should see； for
instance； how I live。 Yesterday I seemed such a hero to her；
while now； h'm！ It's horrid； though； that I have let myself go
so； the room looks like a beggar's。 And I brought myself to go
out to dinner in such a suit！ And my American leather sofa with
the stuffing sticking out。 And my dressing…gown； which will not
cover me； such tatters； and she will see all this and she will
see Apollon。 That beast is certain to insult her。 He will
fasten upon her in order to be rude to me。 And I； of course；
shall be panic…stricken as usual； I shall begin bowing and
scraping before her and pulling my dressing…gown round me； I
shall begin smiling； telling lies。 Oh； the beastliness！ And it
isn't the beastliness of it that matters most！ There is
something more important； more loathsome； viler！ Yes； viler！
And to put on that dishonest lying mask again！。。。〃
When I reached that thought I fired up all at once。
〃Why dishonest？ How dishonest？ I was speaking sincerely last
night。 I remember there was real feeling in me； too。 What I
wanted was to excite an honourable feeling in her。。。。 Her crying
was a good thing； it will have a good effect。〃
Yet I could not feel at ease。 All that evening； even when I had
come back home； even after nine o'clock； when I calculated that
Liza could not possibly come； still she haunted me； and what was
worse； she came back to my mind always in the same position。 One
moment out of all that had happened last night stood vividly
before my imagination； the moment when I struck a match and saw
her pale； distorted face； with its look of torture。 And what a
pitiful； what an unnatural； what a distorted smile she had at
that moment！ But I did not know then； that fifteen years later I
should still in my imagination see Liza； always with the pitiful；
distorted； inappropriate smile which was on her face at that
minute。
Next day I was ready again to look upon it all as nonsense； due
to over…excited nerves； and； above all； as _exaggerated_。 I was
always conscious of that weak point of mine； and sometimes very
much afraid of it。 〃I exaggerate everything； that is where I go
wrong；〃 I repeated to myself every hour。 But； however； 〃Liza
will very likely come all the same；〃 was the refrain with which
all my reflections ended。 I was so uneasy that I sometimes flew
into a fury： 〃She'll come； she is certain to come！〃 I cried；
running about the room； 〃if not today； she will come tomorrow；
she'll find me out！ The damnable romanticism of these pure
hearts！ Oh； the vilenessoh； the sillinessoh； the stupidity
of these 'wretched sentimental souls！' Why； how fail to
understand？ How could one fall to understand？。。。〃
But at this point I stopped short； and in great confusion；