Chapter 14 two

However, after each brothel search, I felt very sick.I regretted it so much, so I chased it away: it was disgusting.But slowly I got used to it.I get used to everything, that is to say, not so much a habit, but a somewhat voluntary complicity.But I have a way out of everything, and that is to escape (in fantasy, of course) into "all that is beautiful and sublime."Believe me, when I huddled in my corner and fantasized for three months straight, I did not look like a disturbed, small-bellied gentleman who sewed German flocking on his coat-collar.I suddenly became a hero.Even if the tall lieutenant wanted to visit me, I would not receive him.I couldn't even picture him at the time.What I fantasized at the time, and how I was satisfied with it—it’s hard to say now, but I was satisfied with it.Even now, though, I feel somewhat content with that.After a night in a brothel, my fantasies became especially sweet and intense, and they came to me with confessions and tears, curses and ecstasies.There were moments when I was so exuberant and happy that, indeed, I didn't even feel the slightest mockery in my heart.There is faith, hope, and love.Just so, I believed blindly at the time, that there must be some miracle, some foreign circumstance, which would throw it all into light; Beautiful, and mostly ready-made (what exactly—I can’t say, but mainly should be completely ready-made), so I suddenly descended, descended into the world, and almost didn’t ride a white horse and wear a laurel wreath.I don't bother to play secondary roles, and it is precisely because of this that I am willing to be the last in reality, and I take it calmly.Either be a hero or a bear, there is no middle way.This is what hurts me, because when I was a bear, I could still talk about it. At other times, I have been a hero, and a hero can block the bear with his shadow: it is said that it is shameful for ordinary people to become bears, and it is shameful for ordinary people to become bears. Because the hero is too tall, it is impossible to completely become a bear, so it doesn't matter if he sometimes becomes a bear.What's interesting is that when "all the beauty and the sublime" come to me, sometimes it's when I'm staying in a brothel for the night, and it's also when I'm at the bottom of society, they appear from time to time like sporadic flashes , seems to remind people of their existence, but they do not use their appearance to sweep up the whoring and prostitution; on the contrary, they use the contrast between the two to make the whoring and prostitution more interesting, and they do not appear much. Less, just right, makes for a good sauce.The sauce is concocted by conflict, pain, and painful inner analysis.All these pains, great and small, of all kinds, also imparted a piquant taste, and even a meaning, to my quests—in a word, they served perfectly as a good seasoning.It's not even without some depth.Besides, can I agree to do this kind of simple, indecent, straightforward, prostitution and whoring only for people who sell cars and other people!Can I put the shit bowl on my head!Besides, what in all this nonsense could attract me to go out at night?No, you, I have a noble solution to all this...

And yet, how much love I poured into all these fantasies of mine, into these "hide away from all beauty and sublime in order to escape."Lord, how much love have I poured out: Although this is an imaginary love, although this love has never been actually applied to any one thing related to people, but this love is still so much, that later, when I put it into action Sometimes, I feel that there is no need to use it: it is simply a superfluous luxury.In the end, however, all this is always transformed into art (lazily and intoxicatingly) into art, that is, into forms of the beauty of being, which are completely ready-made, forced into art. from poets and novelists, and use them to serve every utility and demand.For example, I conquered all of them; needless to say, all of my virtues were resignedly and voluntarily recognized by them after being crushed, and I forgave them all.I became a famous poet and courtier, I was in love; I possessed innumerable riches, which I immediately bequeathed to mankind, and immediately confessed to my people my disgrace, which was no ordinary disgrace, of course. , but contains many "beauties and sublime" in itself, many Manfred spirits.Everyone was crying and kissing me (otherwise they would be idiots), while I went barefoot and hungry to promote new ideas and crush the bigots at Austerlitz.Then there was a triumphal song, an amnesty decree, and the Pope agreed to leave Rome for Brazil; then a ball was held for all Italians at the Borges Villa on the shore of Lake Como, because Lake Como moved to Rome specially for this grand event; It's an episode in the woods, wait - you don't seem to know?You will say, and I admit it myself, that it is mean and indecent to put it all on the market now, after so much intoxication and tears.Why mean, you?Don't you think I'm ashamed of it all, do you think it must be more stupid than anything else in your life, folks?Besides, believe me, some of my ideas are pretty good... Not everything happens in Lake Como.You're right, though: it's vile and obscene.But the worst thing is that I am now defending myself in front of you.And what's worse is that I dare to say it now.But that's enough, or it's never over: one is meaner than the other anyway...

For more than three months, I couldn't fantasize continuously, and I began to feel an irresistible need to join the society.Eagerness to plunge into society meant that I wanted to visit my section chief, Anton Antonich Setochkin.He was the only person with whom I had been in constant contact all my life, and now I find it strange myself.But only when I am in a particularly good mood, and my fantasies reach such blissful states that I must and immediately want to embrace people, embrace all mankind; and in order to do this, it is necessary to have at least A human being, a real human being - I can't see him except at this time.But to see Anton Antonitch had to go on Tuesday (his day), and therefore the need to embrace all humanity must always be pushed to its climax before Tuesday.This Anton Antonitch lived in Pentagon, on the fourth floor, in four small rooms, each of which was low and smaller than the other, and looked very poor and poor.He has two daughters and their aunt, who pours tea for everyone.Two daughters—thirteen and fourteen, both of whom have turned-up noses—I was very embarrassed in front of them because they were always whispering and giggling.The owner usually sits on a leather sofa in the study.There was a small table in front of the sofa, and I was sitting with a gray-haired guest, who was either an official from the department, or even someone from another unit.I never saw anyone but two or three guests, and always the same ones.They were talking about excise taxes, about auctions in the Privy Council, about salaries, about promotions, about the Lord Chancellor, about ways of pleasing their superiors, and so on and on.I patiently sat beside these people like a fool, and sat for three or four hours at a time, listening to what they had to say, while I myself neither dared nor could speak to them, nor could I get in a word. .I sat there dazed, sweating several times at a time, I was in a state of paralysis, but it was good and rewarding.After I got home, for a certain amount of time, I didn't feel like hugging all of humanity anymore.

Then again, I seem to have a friend, his name is Simonov, who is my middle school classmate.There are probably a lot of my middle school classmates in Petersburg, but I never interact with them, and I don't even say hello to them when I meet them on the street.Maybe the reason I was transferred to another department was to be away from them, to end my whole odious childhood.I curse the high school, I curse the dreadful difficult years!In short, I parted ways with my classmates as soon as I left school.There were only two or three people, and I greeted them when I met them.Among them was Simonov, who was nothing special in our school, steady and quiet, but whom I admired for a certain independence of character, even integrity.I don't even think he's stupid in his head.Used to be pretty close to him, but it wasn't that long, and for some reason it suddenly became foggy.He was visibly distressed by these memories and seemed to be constantly worried that I would return to my old attitude towards him.I suspect he hates me very much, but I go to see him often because I'm not sure if he really hates me.

So once, on Thursday, I couldn't bear to be alone, and at the same time I knew that Anton Antonitch's house was closed on Thursday, so I thought of Simonov.When I climbed up to the fourth floor to find him, I thought that this gentleman hates me and I shouldn't go to him.But since it often ends up like this: despite all these considerations, it seems that it is against my will to push me into this ambiguous situation even more, so I opened the door and went in.It had been almost a year since I last saw Simonov before that.