Chapter 14 Chapter Thirteen

Locals play discreetly on the light blue-gray skating rink (which turns into tennis courts in summer) with a thin blanket of snow.When the Luzhin couple walked past here in the morning, the most athletic of the skaters, a young man in a sweater, happened to do a Dutch trick and sat down heavily on the ice.A little farther away is a small park, in which a three-year-old boy in red is walking towards a stirrup stone with his calf in woolen trousers swinging.A little snow nearby formed a small hill, tempting the appetite. The little boy stretched out a fingerless hand to scrape off some snow and brought it to his mouth.This situation immediately caused a hand from behind to grab him and slap him on the buttocks. "Oh, you poor little thing," said Madame Luzhin, looking back.A bus drove across the white asphalt road, leaving two thick and black roads.There was faint music coming from a store that sold gramophones and game consoles, and someone came and closed the door so the music wouldn't catch a cold.A dachshund in a small patchwork coat of blue cloth, waggling its drooping ears, stopped to sniff the snow, and Mrs. Luzhin took the opportunity to touch it.For a while, white things hit their faces, very light but very sharp. When they raised their eyes to stare at the empty sky, they found tiny shiny particles flying in front of their eyes.Madame Luzhin slipped and looked reproachfully at her gray snowshoes.Near the Russian grocer they met the Alfeorovs. "It's suddenly cold," Alfeorov sighed, his yellow beard shaking. "Stop kissing hands, the gloves are dirty," said Frau Luzhin, smiling at Frau Alfeolov's charming, always lively face, and asking her why she did not come to their house. "You're getting fat, sir," growled Alfeolov, squinting mischievously at Luzhin's belly, which was now protruding from his padded overcoat.Luzhin looked at his wife pitifully. "Remember, you're always welcome," she said, nodding. "Wait, Marie, do you know their phone number?" Alfeolov asked. respect."

"He's a petty fellow, and a poor fellow," said Madame Luzhin, taking her husband's arm, and shifting her steps so as to match his, "but Marie . . . . . . Don't go so fast, my dear Luzhin—the road is slippery." The light snow stopped falling, and a patch of sky shone dimly.The sun emerged, colorless, like a flat plate. "Guess what, we go on the right today," suggested Mrs. Luzhin. "We never go on the right, see, I'm sure." "Oranges," Luzhin said, feeling hungry, and remembered what his father had said: when you say the word "leemon" in Russian, you stretch your face unconsciously, but "apelsin (lemon)" Tangerine)” will bring a smile to the face.The little sales girl nimbly opened the mouth of the paper bag, and squeezed a few cold red spheres with small shallow pits into it.Luzhin took out an orange and peeled it as he walked, expecting that the orange juice would splash into his eyes, and he couldn't help frowning.He put the peeled orange peel in his pocket, because it would be too conspicuous if thrown on the snow, and maybe someone would trample it into mud. "Is it delicious?" his wife asked.Luzhin smacked the last piece of orange, with a satisfied smile on his face.He was about to reach out and take his wife's arm again when he suddenly stopped and looked around.After thinking for a while, he turned back and walked towards the entrance of the street, looked at the name of the street, then quickly caught up with his wife, stretched out his cane and pointed to the nearest house.It was an ordinary gray stone house with a small garden behind iron railings, separating the house from the street. "My father used to live here," said Luzhin, "No. 35A."

"35A," his wife repeated after him, not knowing what to say next, and looked up at the windows of the house.Luzhin walked on, pounding the snow off the railing with his cane.After a while, he was standing motionless in front of a stationery store again.There is a wax figurine in the store with two faces, one sad and the other happy, and keeps opening the left and right skirts of the jacket alternately.He was wearing a white vest under the jacket, and there was a fountain pen pinned to the left pocket of the vest. As soon as the left jacket was opened, the fountain pen sprayed ink on the white vest, but the fountain pen pinned to the right pocket did not move.Luzhin liked the double-faced man so much that he even wanted to buy it. "Listen, Luzhin," said his wife when he had had enough of looking at the window, "I wanted to ask you a long time ago—didn't your father leave anything behind? Where are you putting it now?" Luzhin shrugged. "There was a man named Krashchenko," he murmured after a while. "I can't understand that," said his wife a little suspiciously. "He wrote me a letter in Paris," explained Luzhin reluctantly, "about his death and burial, and he kept the late father's relics."

"Well, Luzhin," she sighed, "look at how you use language." After a moment of thought, she added, "I don't care about your father's relics, I just think that those things that belonged to your father You should keep it." Luzhin remained silent.She imagined the unwanted things—perhaps the pens that old Luzhin had used in his books, such and such documents, photographs—and she became sad, secretly blaming her husband for his cruelty. "But one thing must be done," she said decisively. "We must go to the cemetery and see his grave, and make sure it is not neglected."

"It's cold and the road is long," Luzhin said. "Then we'll go in a day or two," she decided. "The weather is sure to change. Be careful—a car is coming." The weather turned worse, and Luzhin, remembering the oppressive wasteland and the cold wind over the cemetery, asked to postpone the visit to the next week.Plus, it was unseasonably cold and the skating rink was closed.This ice rink is always bad luck: last winter it melted again and again, and finally the ice rink turned into a pool of water.This year it was so cold that even schoolchildren stopped skating.The frozen bird in the park was lying on the snow with its chest up, its two paws in the air.Under the influence of the surrounding cold environment, the thermometer dropped again and again helplessly.Even polar bears in zoos have found that winterization has been enhanced for them.

Now it turns out that the Luzhin couple's apartment is one of those lucky ones, equipped with a magical central heating system.Living in such an apartment, one does not have to wear a fur coat and wrap himself in a blanket when sitting still.His wife's parents, maddened by the cold, were more than happy to be guests in their centrally heated apartment.Luzhin sat at the table in his undestroyed jacket, carefully drawing a white cube placed in front of him.His father-in-law was either pacing about the study, telling long, very respectable anecdotes, or sitting on the sofa with a newspaper, breathing deeply and clearing his throat every now and then.His mother-in-law and wife sat at the tea table.Looking across the dimly lit living room from the study, you can see the bright yellow lampshade in the dining room.The sideboard formed a brown background against which his wife's bright silhouette and bare arms were reflected.She rested her elbows on the table well out of sight, her head resting on one shoulder, her fingers interlocked.Or suddenly and steadily extend an arm and touch some shiny object on the tablecloth.Luzhin put the cube he was drawing aside, took out a piece of blank paper with nothing on it, prepared a tin box containing watercolor blocks, and hurriedly drew the scene in the distance.He was laboriously drawing the outline with the help of a ruler, when there was a slight change at the far end.His wife left the bright rectangular dining room, the lights went out, then came back on in the nearby living room, and there was nothing more to see in the distance.Usually he rarely uses watercolors, but likes to draw with pencils.Watercolors are wet, and they always wrinkle the paper, which is unpleasant, and the wet colors will bleed together.Prussian blue is very sticky, and it is often stuck on and cannot be removed-you just dip a small amount on the tip of the paintbrush, and it sticks everywhere on the smooth enamel inner wall of the paint box. It swallowed it, and the water in the glass stained it a nasty blue.There were thick hoses containing ink and lead powder, but the caps were all missing without exception, so that the necks of the tubes were completely dry.He squeezed the tube so hard that it would burst at the bottom, and a fat, slimy, wriggling worm would crawl out from underneath.Even the simplest things—like painting a vase with flowers in it or copying a sunset from a tourist brochure about the Riviera—would yield little result. The painting is speckled, which makes people disgusted and disgusting.But drawing is always a good thing.He drew his mother-in-law, which made her angry.He drew a silhouette of his wife, and she said if she looked like that, there would be no reason for him to marry her.On the other hand, his father-in-law's starched collar was well drawn.Luzhin was very interested in sharpening pencils and using them to measure the proportions of objects in front of him. He squinted one eye, held up the pencil, and rested his thumb on the barrel.When I make a mistake and want to erase it, I will carefully move the eraser on the paper, pressing the paper with one palm.He knew from experience that if he didn't press it down, the paper would rattle and wrinkle.He will blow off the eraser on the paper very carefully, for fear that the painted picture will be dirty if he wipes it with his hands.His favorites were the objects his wife first suggested he draw and would draw over and over again—white cubes, pyramids, cylinders, and a small piece of plastic ornament that reminded him of his school days. The picture class scene in Li - it was the only thing he could draw.Those thin lines comforted him, and he drew and drew, a hundred times, until at last he achieved the highest degree of clarity, precision, and purity.Shading is also very cool, gently and neatly, not too heavy, and the lines are evenly distributed.

"Done," he said, holding up the paper, pulling away a little, squinting his eyelashes to see the cube he had drawn.His father-in-law put on his pince-nez, looked at it for a long time, and nodded repeatedly.His mother-in-law and wife came from the living room and also looked at his paintings. "The cube casts a small shadow," said his wife. "A very, very beautiful cube." "Well done, you are a true cubist," said his mother-in-law.Luzhin grinned on one side, smiled slightly, and looked at the four walls of the study with the painting in his hand.There was already a painting hanging by the door of the study—a train traveling on a bridge across the abyss.There was one more thing in the living room: a skull in the phone book.There are some particularly round oranges in the restaurant, and everyone will take them for granted when they see them.A charcoal bas-relief adorns the bedroom, and a picture of a secret meeting of cones and cones.He walked out of the study, looked around the walls, and his wife sighed and said, "I don't know where my dear Luzhin will hang this picture."

"You haven't condescended to tell me," her mother began, pointing to the pile of gaudy travel brochures on the table with her chin lifted. "But I don't know where to go myself," said Mrs. Luzhin. "It's hard to decide. Every place is beautiful. I think we'll go to Nice first." "I suggest going to the Italian Lake District," her father said, closing the newspaper, taking off his pince-nez, and started talking about how beautiful those lakes were. "I'm afraid he's tired of hearing our constant talk of travel," said Mrs. Luzhin. "Just get on the train some fine day."

"But not until April," begged her mother. "You promised me, you know..." Luzhin returned to the study. "I put a box of thumbtacks somewhere," he said, looking at the table and patting his pockets (again, if not for the third or fourth time, he felt something in his left pocket—but Not the box of thumbtacks - no time to double check).Finding the thumbtack on the table, Luzhin picked up the box and hurried out. "Oh, I forgot to tell you. Imagine, yesterday morning..." She began to tell her daughter that a woman called her yesterday, and she did not expect this woman to come here from Russia.I think back in St. Petersburg, when this woman was a young girl, she used to be a guest at her house.Three or four years ago she was married to a Soviet businessman, or a Soviet official—it is impossible to determine exactly who—and she and her husband were going to a spa resort for health and wellness, with a stopover in Berlin for a week or two. . "You know, I'm a little uncomfortable when Soviet citizens come to us, but she insists on coming. I find it strange that she's not afraid to call. Well, if people from the Soviet Union find out that she gave me Called..."

"Oh, mother, she may be a very depressed woman—she's free from being depressed for a while, and wants to see people." "Well, then, I'll turn her over to you," said her mother, relieved, "especially since it's warmer here." At noon a few days later, the lady showed up.Luzhin was still sleeping soundly because he didn't sleep well the night before.Twice he woke up, tried to scream but couldn't, choked on a nightmare.Mrs. Luzhin also doesn't like receiving guests very much now for some reason.When the visitor came, he found that she was a slender, lively lady, with proper make-up and beautiful short hair, dressed like Mrs. Luzhin in simple and expensive things.The two of them fought each other loudly, saying that the other hadn't changed at all, if they had changed, they might have become more beautiful.The two walked through the living room and entered the study, which was more comfortable than the living room.The visitor was secretly surprised that this Mrs. Luzhin was a lively and beautiful girl eleven or twelve years ago, but now she has become fairer, fatter and quieter.Mrs. Luzhin found that the young lady who used to come to their house frequently became a very funny and confident lady.Back then, she was a dignified and quiet lady who fell in love with a college student, who was beaten to death later. "So this is your home in Berlin...Thank you from the bottom of my heart. I'm freezing to death. It's warmer here in Leningrad, really."

"How is St. Petersburg now? It must have changed a lot?" Mrs. Luzhin asked. "Of course it has," replied the visitor triumphantly. "It's been a very difficult time," said Mrs. Luzhin, nodding thoughtfully. "Hey, nonsense! It's not like that at all. Everyone in the country is working and building. Even my son is working - what, you don't know I have a son? - Yes, I have, I have, a smart Smart guy - even he said that at home in Leningrad 'everyone works, in Berlin the bourgeois do nothing'. In general he finds Berlin so much worse than at home that he doesn't even want to see anything He is observant, you know, sensitive... No, seriously, the boy is right. I myself feel that we have surpassed Europe. Take the theater. Well, you don't have theaters in Europe, theaters It doesn’t exist at all. I’m not saying that at all, you understand, it’s not at all praising the Communist Party. But you have to admit one thing: they look forward, they build, they focus on building.” "I don't understand politics," Madame Luzhin said slowly, a little sadly, "but I just feel that..." "I just want to say that one has to think broadly," said the visitor hastily, "for example, I bought an exile paper as soon as I got here. Of course, my husband said, you know, jokingly— 'Why are you wasting money on this rubbish - my girl?' His exact words were worse than mine, let's call it rubbish for the sake of innocence - but I said: 'It's not waste. You have to look at everything, and know everything with absolute disinterestedness.' Imagine—I open the newspaper and read it, and it's full of slander, lies, and savagery." "I seldom read Russian papers," said Mrs. Luzhin, "for example, Mama ordered a Russian paper from Serbia, and I believe—" "It's all a conspiracy," the lady continued, "nothing but insults, and no one dares to say a good word for us." Mrs. Luzhin thought, "Is that true? Let's talk about something else," annoyed "I don't understand, I'm not very good at talking about this kind of thing, but I think you're getting it wrong. If someday you want to talk to my parents about this kind of thing..." (Speaking of which, Mrs. Luzhin imagined her mother staring and screaming, and she felt a little pleasure.) "Forget it, you still haven't grown up," the lady smiled generously, "tell me what you are doing now, your husband What, what does he do?" "He used to play chess," replied Madame Luzhin, "and was a good player. But he was overworked and is now recuperating. Please don't talk to him about chess." "Yes, yes, I know he is a chess player," the visitor said, "but what is he? A reactionary? A white bandit?" "I really don't know," laughed Mrs. Luzhin. "I've heard a thing or two about him," the visitor continued. "As soon as you maman told me you were married to a man named Luzhin, I immediately thought it was him. I had one in Leningrad." Old acquaintance, she told me--so proudly, you know, so naively--how she taught her little nephew how to play chess, and the little nephew became a brilliant..." At this point in the conversation, a strange sound came from the next room, as if someone had bumped into something and cried out involuntarily. "Wait a minute," Mrs. Luzhin jumped up from the sofa, and was about to gently open the door leading to the living room, but changed her mind and went through the hall to the living room.In the drawing-room she saw a Luzhin who was quite unexpected.He was in pajamas and bedroom slippers, and in one hand he held a loaf of white bread--but of course not that which was surprising--and the surprising thing was that his face was contorted with excitement and trembling.His eyes were wide open, his eyes were shining, his forehead looked uneven, and his veins were bulging. When he saw his wife, he seemed to ignore her at first, and just stood with his mouth wide open and continued to look into the study.After a while she understood that he was excited because of joy.He happily snapped his teeth at his wife, made another clumsy turn, nearly knocked down a palm tree, and dropped a slipper.The slipper slid into the restaurant like a living thing, and the cocoa tea in the dining room was steaming, and he followed the slipper and walked quickly. "It's okay, it's okay," Luzhin said slyly, like someone who has discovered some secret and is ecstatic, patted his knees, closed his eyes, and shook his head. "That lady is from Russia," said his wife tentatively. "She knows your aunt, your aunt—yes, one of your aunts." "Very well, very well," said Luzhin, suddenly bursting with laughter.What am I worrying about?she thought.He just felt happy, woke up in a good mood, and maybe thought... "Want to make a secret joke, Luzhin?" "Yes, yes," replied Luzhin, finding a prevarication, and adding, "I just wanted to introduce myself in my pajamas." Very well, she said with a smile, "then we will feel very happy," "Eat something and get dressed. It seems to be warmer this morning." Mrs. Luzhin left her husband in the dining room and returned to her study immediately.Her guest is sitting on the sofa looking at some pictures of Switzerland in a tourist brochure. "Listen," she said, seeing Mrs. Luzhin enter, "I want to use you. I want to buy something, but I Have no idea where the best shops are in this area. Yesterday I stood in front of a shop window for an entire hour and just stood there thinking maybe there are better shops. Besides my German is not good enough ..." Luzhin had been sitting in the dining room, patting his knees from time to time.There are really big things to celebrate.Since the last ball he had been trying to find the cipher to the mystery of the past, which had just suddenly revealed itself to him, thanks to an unexpected word wafted from an adjoining room.In the few minutes after hearing that sentence, he only felt a strong sense of excitement. He turned out to be a chess player.It took him a few more little tricks before he realized the true significance of this extraordinary discovery.He finished his cocoa tea, shaved, and replaced the decorative buttons on a clean shirt.Suddenly the pleasure was gone, and other sensations overwhelmed him.Some of the moves learned by playing the score can vaguely reappear on the chessboard in actual combat. In the same way, a familiar life pattern is also continuously reappearing in his current life. This phenomenon is becoming more and more obvious.He was elated at having concluded that this recurrence was indeed a fact, but the initial elation had just passed, and he trembled with terror when he began to reflect on his discovery carefully.He noticed that the various images of his childhood were reproduced step by step (the country house...the city...the school...the aunt).But he still didn't quite understand why this coded re-emergence aroused such intense fear in the depths of his soul.One thing felt real to him: he was annoyed that it had taken him so long to discover this cunning sequence of moves.Now that certain details came to mind—and so many details were brought to life now and then that the recurrence of the beginning was all but lost—Luzhin was secretly angry at himself for not thinking deeply, for not taking the initiative, but for being blind freely allow the password to reveal itself.From now on, then, he resolved to be vigilant, to keep an eye out for further developments, if any--and of course, of course, to ensure that his discovery remained an unbreakable secret, and that one should appear jovial, uncharacteristically jovial. .However, from that day on, he had no peace—if possible, he had to devise a line of defense against this self-presenting cipher, and get rid of it once and for all.For that he must foresee its ultimate goal, its current direction, and there is no sign yet of that being possible.When he thought that the recurrence was likely to continue, he was so terrified that he wished he could stop the clock of life and let the recurrence be sealed and frozen forever like that chess game.At the same time, he noticed that he was still alive, that some kind of preparation was still in progress, that things were moving slowly like a crawl, and he had no ability to stop this movement. If his wife had spent more time with him these days, she might have noticed the change in him very quickly: from time to time, there was a wooden and happy look in the gloomy expression.But unfortunately, during these few days, the lady from Russia kept pestering her, so she had to let her take advantage of her as originally agreed.The lady dragged her around shops, one after another, for hours at a time.She tried on hats, dresses, and shoes without haste, and then sat at Luzhin's house.She still kept saying that there were no theaters in Europe as before, and she still said that St. Petersburg was Leningrad in a cold tone.For some reason Madame Luzhin felt sorry for her, and accompanied her to the café, and bought some toys for her son.Her son is a sad little fat man who loses his ability to speak in front of strangers. When he was given those toys, he was very afraid and refused to accept them, so his mother insisted that there was nothing he liked here, and he only hoped Hurry up and go back to the country, and go back to his little friends in the Young Pioneers.She also visited Mrs. Luzhin's parents, but unfortunately the political conversation did not take place, and they recalled some former acquaintances.During this period, Luzhin silently and attentively fed chocolate to little Ivan, and Ivan ate silently and attentively. Later, his face flushed and he was hurriedly taken out of the house.The weather has also warmed up these past few days, and once or twice Madame Luzhin told her husband that they would visit the grave that same day after the unfortunate woman had left with her unfortunate child and her husband who could not be seen, without further delay. .Luzhin smiled all over his face and nodded in agreement.The typewriter, the geography, the drawing, were all forgotten, for he now understood that all these were only part of the code, that the code of decoding, all accumulated in childhood, would be intricately reproduced by these present activities.The past few days have been really absurd: Mrs. Luzhin feels that she does not care enough about her husband's emotions, something is slipping out of control, and she still politely continues to listen to the boring words of the visitor Her request was translated to a store clerk.It was particularly unpleasant when a pair of shoes that had been worn once turned out not to fit, and she had to accompany her to the store again.The lady turned purple with anger, scolded the merchant in Russian, and asked for a change of shoes.She still had to reassure her when it was over, and she had to manage to cool down quite a bit in the German translation of her vitriol.The night before she left, she brought little Ivan to say goodbye.She left Ivan in the study, and went to the bedroom with Madame Luzhin. This was the hundredth time she had looked at Madame Luzhin's wardrobe.Ivan sat on the sofa scratching his knees, trying not to look at Luzhin, and Luzhin didn't know where to look, thinking about how to make this restless child move. "Telephone!" Luzhin finally yelled, pointed at the phone with his finger, and laughed out loud in pretended surprise.But Ivan looked sullenly in the direction of Luzhin's finger, looked away again, and pulled his lower lip down. "Trains and cliffs!" cried Luzhin again, pointing with his other hand to a picture he had drawn on the wall.Ivan's left nostril was full of glistening snot, and he sucked back, looking ahead indifferently. "The author!" Luzhin roared in a low voice, pointing to the bust of Dante.Silence, sniffing gently.Luzhin was tired from his gymnastic movements, and fell silent.He began to wonder if there would be candy in the dining room, or if he would go to the living room and play with the gramophone.But the little boy on the sofa just sat like this, as if he had cast a spell on Luzhin, and it was impossible to leave. "It would be nice to have a toy," he said to himself, and then looked at the desk, guessing that the paper cutter would arouse the child's curiosity.Seeing that this thing still didn't arouse the child's curiosity, he looked into his pockets in desperation.This time, like so many times before, he felt that although the left pocket was empty, there was something vaguely in it, and he didn't know exactly what it was.Luzhin thought that this phenomenon of empty pockets and contents would arouse little Ivan's interest, so he sat down next to Ivan on the edge of the sofa and blinked secretly. "Make a magic trick," he said, showing him that the pockets were empty. "This little hole has nothing to do with magic," he explained.Ivan was listless, and watched Luzhin's actions viciously. "Although the pocket is empty, there is still something in it," said Luzhin cheerfully, blinking again. "In the lining," said Ivan contemptuously, shrugging his shoulders and turning his head away. "Yes!" Luzhin exclaimed, pretending to be pleasantly surprised, inserting one hand into the lining through the hole, and holding the bottom of the dress with the other.The first thing that came out was a red corner of something, and then the whole thing—a leather-bound notebook-shaped thing.Luzhin looked at it with raised eyebrows, turned it over in his hand, pulled out a small flap stuffed in the crack of the leather cover, and opened it carefully.It's not a notebook, it's a small folding chessboard made of Moroccan goatskin.Luzhin immediately remembered that it was given to him by a club in Paris - all the players who participated in that chess tournament got such a small thing - not only a souvenir from the club, but also an advertisement for a certain merchant .The folded chessboard forms a small box with checkerboard squares drawn on the surface, inside which are small chess pieces made of gelatin, like fingernails, each with a corresponding figure of a chess piece.The bottom of the chess piece is pointed, and it is inserted in a small slit at the bottom edge of the square grid when playing chess, so that the circular surface with the graphics corresponding to the chess piece lies flat on the square grid of the chessboard.The effect is very neat and beautiful after being laid out in this way - anyone who sees it can't help but admire this small red and white chessboard, the smooth gelatin chess pieces like fingernails, and the notation mark embossed on the edge of the chessboard, There are golden letters on the horizontal side and golden numbers on the vertical side.Luzhin opened his mouth wide in joy, and began to insert pieces on the board—first a row of pawns along the second square—but then changed his mind, and used his fingertips to pull out the small pieces that could be inserted from the square. He came out and started to play the chess game he played against Turati until the end of the game.The chess game was set almost instantly, and then the entire physical dimension of the matter disappeared: the little chessboard lying on the palm of his hand became shapeless, weightless, and the Moroccan suede melted into a mass of pink and cream. Alternating smoke, everything disappeared, only the chess game remained, complex, intense, and containing endless changes.Luzhin put his finger to his temple and was lost in thought, so he did not notice Ivan.He had nothing else to do but had climbed off the sofa and started shaking the black legs of the floor lamp.The lamppost tilted, and the lamp went out. Luzhin came to his senses in the darkness, not knowing where he was or what was going on around him.Not far away, an invisible person muttered and was busy, and suddenly the orange lampshade lit up again, emitting a transparent light, and a pale boy with a shaved head was kneeling on the ground, arranging the lamp wires.Luzhin was taken aback, and closed the chessboard with a bang.Just like him when he was a child, a little Luzhin, knelt on the carpet and crawled over, just for him the chess pieces were laid out... All this happened before... He was once again confused, unable to understand a familiar What happened repeatedly, how did this phenomenon come about?After a while, everything returned to normal: Little Ivan sniffed and crawled back to the sofa. The place where the orange light couldn't reach was slightly darker, and Luzhin's study emerged dimly, shaking slightly.The red Moroccan goatskin notebook lay innocently on the carpet—but Luzhin knew that it was just a gimmick, that the codes had not been fully unlocked, and that soon a new, terrifying reappearance would come uninvited.He bent quickly to pick up the material object, stuffing it into his coat pocket.It symbolized a power that had taken possession of his imagination, and had just struck again, giving him both great pleasure and horror.He was thinking where it would be safer to hide it, when there was a voice, and his wife and their guest entered, swimming toward him as if through cigarette smoke. "Get up, Ivan, it's time to go. Yes, yes, dear, I have a lot of things to pack," said the lady, and going up to Luzhin, she began to say good-bye to him. "It was a pleasure meeting you," she said.Just between the few words in this sentence, she unexpectedly remembered what she had thought of more than once before: What a stupid idiot, what a strange weirdo! "Very happy. Now I can tell your aunt that I met her little chess player, now grown up and famous..." "Be sure to come and see us when you come back," Madame Luzhin interrupted hastily and loudly, looking for the first time with hatred at the woman's smiling rosy lips and pitilessly stupid eyes.Needless to say, he will come, "Of course, yes. Ivan, get up and say goodbye!" Ivan said reluctantly, and several people walked into the hall together. "It's always exciting to see people out in Berlin," she sneered, seeing Frau Luzhin pick up the key from the low table by the window. "No, we have an elevator," replied Mrs. Luzhin without getting to the point.She hoped impatiently for the lady to leave quickly, raised her eyebrows and motioned for Luzhin to bring her sealskin coat.Luzhin only took the child's coat off the coat rack... but fortunately the maid came over at this time. “再见，再见，”卢仁太太站在门口说，即将离开的两位客人在女仆的陪同下进了电梯。卢仁越过妻子的肩膀看见伊万爬上了一个小凳，但这时电梯门关上了，铁笼子里的电梯沉了下去。卢仁太太跑进书房，脸朝下趴在了沙发上。卢仁挨着她坐下，内心深处却开始吃力地制造、黏合、缝补一个笑容，准备妻子回过头的时候马上献给她。他妻子转过头来。他的笑容出来了，完整而又成功。 “唉，”卢仁太太叹口气，“我们终于摆脱他们了。”她一把抱住她丈夫吻起来——吻他的右眼，又吻下巴，再吻左耳——遵守着他曾经认可的一套严格顺序。 “好了，打起精神来，打起精神来，”她连说两遍，“那位夫人现在走了，消失了。” “消失了，”卢仁顺着她说，叹了口气，吻了吻正在拍他脖子的那只手。“多么温柔，”她轻声说，“啊，多么甜蜜的温柔……” 到上床睡觉的时间了，她去脱衣服，卢仁转遍了所有三个房间，寻找一个可以藏起那副袖珍象棋的地方。任何地方都不可靠。那些最出人意料的地方每天早上都会遭到贪婪的吸尘器那个大鼻子的入侵。藏个东西太难了，太难了：别的东西都牢牢把持着各自的地盘，对一个无家可归、逃避追赶的东西自是猜忌，不予欢迎，决不会让给它一丝缝隙的。所以那天晚上他没能藏好那个摩洛哥山羊皮笔记本，因此便决定索性不去藏它了，扔掉算了。然而事实证明扔掉也绝非易事，于是它继续待在了他的衣服衬里中。直到几个月后，所有的危险已过去很久很久，这个袖珍棋盘才重见天日。到了那时候，它来自何处再也无人知晓。