Chapter 20 Eight

However, I'm not quick to admit this is true.Waking up the next day after hours of leaden sleep, I didn't immediately figure out what happened all day yesterday, and I didn't even think about my sentimentality with Lisa and the "whole horror and pity yesterday." "Surprised. "Such a girly nervous breakdown, bah!" I decided. "Give her my address and why come? What if she does come? But, well, come if you want; it's no big deal..." But, obviously, the main and most important thing now is not this. Matter: It is necessary to hurry, and at any rate quickly, to save my reputation in the eyes of Zverkov and Simonov.That's the main thing.As for Lisa, I was so busy that morning that I completely forgot about it.

First of all, the money owed to Simonov yesterday must be returned immediately.I resolved to do nothing; I asked Anton Antonovich to lend him fifteen rubles.As it happened, he was in such a good mood that morning that he lent it to me as soon as I asked.When I was happy, I put on a handsome face when I wrote the IOU, and told him carelessly that I had a meal at the Hotel de Paris with my friends yesterday; I was seeing off a friend, or even a friend of the general manager. , you know what - he's a big drinker, spoiled - well, of course, a good family, a good fortune, a bright future, very funny, very cute, steal money, fuck with some ladies , do you understand: we drank two extra bottles, "half a dozen" and ... "it's nothing, you know"; all said lightly, casually, and triumphantly.

Immediately after returning home, I wrote a letter to Simonov. To this day, I take great pride in thinking of the truly gentlemanly, kind, generous tone in which this letter was expressed.Cleverly phrased and graciously articulated, and chiefly a complete absence of superfluous words, I blame myself for everything.I excuse myself ("if you'll allow me to excuse myself") it's all because I'm not used to drinking and got drunk after my first drink, which (seems to be the case) was before their arrival Just drank it, from five to six, when I was waiting for them at the Hotel de Paris.I mainly ask Simonov for forgiveness; and I ask him to convey my explanation to everyone else, and especially to Zverkov—"I vaguely remember it like a dream", I seem to have insulted him.I added that I should have come to the door and apologized in person, but because of the headache and most of all - the shame.I am particularly proud of this "certain understatement" that suddenly comes to the fore and trumps all reason, even almost casually (but quite decently), which makes them understand that I have my own feelings about "my bad behavior yesterday" My own rather original opinion, quite, and not at all, as downcast as you may imagine, but on the contrary, as a calm, self-respecting gentleman should have on the subject. View that way.As the saying goes, the past is over, and heroes should not be judged by success or failure.

"You know, this is even a bit of the game of the Marquis of the West?" I read this text message again and admired it. "And all this is because I am a well-developed and educated person!" Others probably don't know how to get out in my position, but I have escaped from my shell and can eat and drink again. Because I am a "contemporary educated and well-developed person".Isn't it, maybe, all this is due to the fact that I drank too much wine yesterday.Uh... no, not because of the wine.I didn't drink at all while I waited for them from five to six.I lied to Simonov; I lied without shame; I am not ashamed even now...

But, I don't care!Mainly I got away with hammocking. I put six rubles in an envelope, sealed it, and asked Apollo to take it to Simonov.When Apollo heard that there was money in the envelope, he was in awe and agreed to go for a trip.In the evening I go out for a walk.My head still hurts from yesterday and I'm still dizzy.But as twilight came and grew darker, my impressions changed and became confused, and after that, so did my thoughts.In me, in the depths of my heart and my conscience, something was stirring, which would not dissipate, and expressed itself as a violent distress.Most of the time, I crowded around on the streets with the most people and the most densely populated handicraft workshops, such as Petty Citizens Street, Huayuan Street, near Yusupo Garden, and so on.I especially like wandering these streets at dusk, because at that time, there are all kinds of pedestrians and craftsmen there, often with preoccupied and vicious faces, and they go home after work during the day. more and more.It's this cheap fuss and this outright mediocrity that I like to see.This time, the hustle and bustle of the whole street made me feel even more confused.I can't calm down my heart, and I can't figure it out.There is something in my heart that is constantly churning, causing me pain, and will not calm down.I went home distraught.It seemed like I had committed some crime, and a sense of guilt weighed on my heart.

The thought that Lisa would come often tormented me.I find it strange that, amidst all these memories of yesterday, the thought of her torments me somehow uniquely and completely alone.About everything else, by evening I had completely forgotten and ignored it, and I was still very proud of my letter to Simonov.But I don't know why I'm not proud of it.It seemed like Lisa was the only one who gave me sleepless nights. "What if she really comes?" I kept thinking. "Okay, it's nothing, let her come. Well. The only bad thing is: she's going to see, say, how I live. I acted like this to her yesterday... a hero... and now, uh It's terrible, I'm so down and out. The room is like a beggar. I decided to wear such a dress to a dinner yesterday! Look at my patent leather sofa, the fiber balls stuffed inside are exposed. Again Look at this pajamas on me, it's so ragged! It's so ragged... And she's going to see it all; Finding faults and embarrassing me. And I, needless to say, usually feel guilty and timid. I start to walk in front of her, cover my shame with the hem of my pajamas, start to laugh hard, and start to lie. Oh, it’s disgusting. What’s more Well, that's not the most disgusting thing here. There's something more important, something worse, something more obscene! Yes, more obscenity! Again, again, to put on this shameful mask! . . . "

Thinking of this, my face flushed suddenly: "Why shame? Shame what? Yesterday I spoke the truth. I remember that I had real feelings in my heart. I was trying to arouse the noble feelings in her. . . If she cried, it would be fine." , which will have a beneficial effect..." But I still can't calm down. All night, when I got home, it was already past nine o'clock, when Lisa was supposed to be away anyway, and I still seemed to see her in a trance, mainly because I always saw her at the same time. a gesture.That is the gesture that impressed me so much yesterday: At that time, I had just struck a match, lit up the room, and saw her pale, distorted face and her painful eyes.How pitiful, how far-fetched, how miserable is the smile on her face at this moment!But I didn't know at the time that, after fifteen years, when I think of Lisa, she still wears this pathetic, miserable, unnecessary smile, as she did at that moment.

The next day, I was ready to think that all this was nothing more than my wild imagination, my nerves being irritated, and mainly my fuss. If you make a big fuss, you will get this problem more and more." I kept saying this to myself all the time.But then again, "Again, maybe Lisa will really come."—I thought about it at the time, and thought about it later, and there will be such a refrain and a chorus.I was so restless that I almost lost my mind sometimes. "It will come! It will come!" I cried, running up and down the room. "If I don't come today, I will come tomorrow, and I will be found! All this pure-hearted romanticism is so damned! Oh, these What a nuisance, what a fool, what a narrow-mindedness the 'poor sentimental soul' is! Oh, how could I not understand, really, how could I not understand?..." But at this point I stopped voluntarily, even Feel very embarrassed.

"Only a few, very few," I thought incidentally, "only a few words, only a few idylls (besides, this idyll is a fake, copied from a book, made up indiscriminately) , is enough to touch a person's heart according to one's own ideas! This is the innocence of a girl! This is the innocent heart!" Sometimes it occurred to me to just go and see her myself, "tell her everything" and beg her not to see me.But when I think of this, an unknown fire will suddenly rise in my heart. If she appears beside me, I really want to strangle this "hateful" Lisa to death, insult her, spit on her, drive her away, and beat her!

But one day, two days, three days passed—she never came, and I fell silent.Every time after nine o'clock, I am very excited, so excited that I can't sleep, sometimes I even start fantasizing, sweetly fantasizing: For example, if I want to save Lisa, I will let her visit me often, and I will tell her ... I want to enlighten her and educate her.Finally I found that she loved me, passionately.I pretend not to understand (but I don't know why I should pretend, probably, for the sake of beauty).At last, trembling with embarrassment and charm, she threw herself at my feet crying, saying that I was her savior and that she loved me more than anything else in the world.I was taken aback, but... "Lisa," I said, "don't you think I didn't see that you loved me? I saw it all, I guessed it, but I didn't dare to be the first to say it and possess you." My heart, because I have influence on you, I am afraid that you will deliberately force yourself to repay my love out of gratitude, and force yourself to evoke a feeling that maybe you have no feelings, but I don’t want to do this, because this is... autocracy... ...that's impolite (well, anyway, at this point I'm spouting, imitating some European, George Sand, inexplicable, sublime, delicate style...). But now—you're mine, you You are mine, you are pure and beautiful, you are my best wife.

"Be like a proper housewife "Brave and free to walk into my home! "Then we just started living the day, traveling abroad, blah, blah." Anyway, I felt bad about myself, and by the end, I stuck my tongue out and laughed at myself. "Won't let her 'bitch' out!" I thought. "You know, they don't seem to be allowed to come out to play, especially at night (I don't know why I always feel that she must come at night, and it must be seven o'clock.) However, she once said that she was not there yet. Sold as a slave, with a little privilege; which means, oh! God damn it, she'll come, she'll come!" Fortunately, at this time Apollo did some stupid things and distracted me.He just drove me beyond endurance!He is my carbuncle, the scourge sent by heaven to punish me.He and I have been sarcastic with each other for years, and I hate him.My God, how I hate him!Never in my life, it seems, have I hated anyone as much as I hated him, especially sometimes.He was an elderly man, impertinent, and had been a tailor for a while.But I don't know why he doesn't take me seriously, and even goes too far. He is always very arrogant to me, which is unbearable.He's arrogant to everyone, though.Just look at this slicked-back, brunette head, look at his high, oiled hairstyle, look at that big mouth that always wears a grin— — and you will feel that in front of you is someone who never doubts himself.He is a carping man to the extreme, and I have never met a more carping man in this world.In addition, self-esteem is still very strong, unless Alexander the Macedonian king deserves such self-esteem.He loved every button of his, and every nail of his—must have loved, because that was the way he looked.His attitude towards me was imperious to the extreme, he seldom spoke to me, and when he looked up at me it was hard, pompous, self-righteous, often mocking, and sometimes it drove me crazy.He often performed his duties with such an air, as if he were doing me a great favor.Still, he hardly does anything for me, and doesn't even think he should do anything at all.There can be no doubts: he thinks I'm the most worthless fool in the world, and if he "keeps me with him," it's only because of the monthly wages he gets from me.He agreed to "do nothing" with me and to pay me seven rubles a month.Because of this, he forgives my many sins.Sometimes I just hate it so much that even just seeing him walk makes me cramp.But what I hate the most is that he bites his tongue.His tongue may be a little longer than the average person, or something similar, so he often slurs and bites his tongue, and it seems that he is very proud of it, thinking that this will greatly increase his social status and make him appear. The equipment is extraordinary.He spoke in a low voice, slowly and calmly, with his hands behind his back, his head lowered, and looking at the ground.What made me especially mad was that, often, he liked to read the Psalms in his own room next door.Because of this chanting, I often fought against him and suffered foreign crimes.But he really likes to read the "Psalms" in a low, unhurried voice at night, like mourning the dead.It's interesting how he ended up doing it for a living: he's now often employed, reading the Psalms to the dead, while also juggling rat extermination and shoe polish.But at the time I couldn't get rid of him.It's as if he and I have merged into one, chemically changed.Besides, he himself did not agree to leave me anyway.I can't afford a furnished apartment: my place is my mansion, my shell, my case, into which I must hide to escape all humanity, and Apollo, God knows why, I feel as if he belongs to Part of the house, I couldn't send him away for seven years. For example, it is impossible to delay his wages, even two or three days in arrears.He will definitely cause trouble, and make me so uneasy that I don't know where to hide.But these days I've been very angry with everyone, so I decided (I don't know why and exactly what to do) to punish him by not paying him and then delaying him for two weeks.I've been planning to do this for a long time (about two years) - the sole purpose is to prove to him that he is not allowed to show his power to me, and that I can give him no wages at any time if I choose.I decided not to tell him about it, and even deliberately kept silent, in order to suppress his arrogance and let him talk about the salary first.At that time, I opened the drawer again and took out all seven rubles to show him, so that he could see that I had money, but put it on purpose, because I "won't, don't want, just don't want to pay him, no I will, because I will," because "I am your master, I will," because he is disrespectful to me, because he is rude and rude, but if he begs me respectfully, I will If you feel soft-hearted, maybe you can give it to him.Otherwise he would have to wait another two weeks, three weeks, or even a full month... But no matter how I lost my temper, in the end he prevailed.I couldn't even last four days.He started with what he was accustomed to do in such situations, because they had happened many times and had been tried and tested (I should note that I had known him to do this for a long time, I was already acquainted with his meanness. gimmick), that is: he first gave me a fierce look in his eyes, glared at me, and stared at me for several minutes, especially when he saw me coming home or seeing me out.If, for instance, I had withstood the gaze and pretended not to see it, he would have continued to torture him silently, as always.He would suddenly come into my room (I was walking up and down or reading a book) for no apparent reason, quietly and deliberately, stand in the doorway, put one hand behind his back, stretch out one leg, and throw himself His eyes shot straight at me, and now he was not just glaring, but full of contempt.If I suddenly ask him, what's the matter with him? ——He would keep staring at me for a few more seconds without saying a word, and then he would close his mouth in a strange way, turn around slowly on the spot with a meaningful expression, and slowly Walk slowly back to your room.After about two hours, he would come out suddenly and appear in front of me in the same way.Sometimes this happens, and I don't want to ask him in a fit of anger: What is he going to do?Instead, he raised his head bluntly and commandingly, and began to stare at him intently.Often we would look at each other like this for two or three minutes; at last he turned and walked out, slowly and haughtily, to remain in his room for another two hours. If I still don't understand after this enlightenment and continue to resist, he will look at me and let out a long sigh, as if he wants to use this sigh to measure the extent of my moral corruption. Sheng: I was furious, I yelled, but I still had to do the thing that was mutually incompatible. This time, the technique of "glaring and glaring" had just started, and I immediately flew into a rage and rushed towards him aggressively.I was already on fire. "Stop!" I yelled furiously, as he turned, slowly and silently, with one hand behind his back, preparing to walk back to his room, "Stop! Come back, come back, call you back you hear No!" Probably, my roar was uncharacteristically, and he actually turned around, and even started to look at me a little surprised.However, he continued without saying a word, blowing my lungs out. "How dare you come in without my permission and look at me like that? Tell me!" But he looked at me calmly, for about half a minute, and began to turn away again. "Stop!" I yelled, rushing to him. "Don't move! That's it. You answer now: why did you come in to see me?" "If you have anything to order now, I'll go and do it." He was silent for a while before answering, speaking in a low and unhurried tone, raised his eyebrows, and calmly tilted his head from one shoulder to the other One shoulder, and a very calm demeanor while doing everything. "That's not what I'm asking you, not that, Executioner!" I cried, trembling with rage. "I want to ask you, executioner, yourself, what are you doing here: you see that I don't pay you, that you yourself are out of pride, and you don't want to bow—you don't want to beg me, and that's why you brought your That stupid look comes to punish me, to torture me, and you executioner don't even think about it, how stupid, how stupid, how stupid, how stupid, how stupid!" He turned away without a sound, but I grabbed him. "Listen!" I yelled at him. "It's money, you see; it's money! (I took it out of the drawer) Seven rubles, but I won't give it to you, I won't give it to you, until you bow your head respectfully and beg my pardon .I hear you!" "Impossible!" he replied with perverse confidence. "It can be done!" I yelled. "On my honor, I can do it!" "I have nothing to ask for your forgiveness," he continued, as if he hadn't noticed my shouting at all, "because you called me an 'executor,' so I can go to the police station and sue you for insulting your character at any time." "Go! Sue!" I yelled, "Go now, go now! At the end of the day, you're still an executioner, executioner, executioner!" But he just looked at me, then turned away, no longer Ignoring my screaming, I calmly walked to my room without looking back. "If it wasn't for Lisa, there wouldn't be any of this stuff!" I decided to myself, and I stood proudly and solemnly for about a minute, but with a heart that was beating slowly and violently. , walked over in person, and went to find him behind the screen. "Apollo!" I paused every word but breathed in a low voice: "Go right away, don't delay for a moment, go and ask the chief of the police station!" He had sat down at his table, put on his glasses, and picked up something to sew.However, when he heard my order, he suddenly burst out laughing. "Go at once, go at once!—go, or, you can't imagine what will happen!" "You are really crazy," he said, without even raising his head, and continued to read the needle's eye in the same slow tone as before. "Where did you ever see a man go to the magistrate when he got himself into trouble? And as for the fear—you don't ask for it, because—nothing will happen." "Go!" I screamed, grabbing his shoulders.I feel I'm going to hit him right away. But I didn't hear it at all. At this moment, the door from the hall was suddenly pushed open gently and slowly. A man walked forward, stopped, and began to look at us both in confusion. .I looked up, was so ashamed that I almost held my breath, and ran back to my room.There I was, grabbing my hair with both hands, and leaning my head against the wall, and just stayed there, motionless. After about two minutes, there was the sound of Apollo's slow footsteps. "There's a woman over there looking for you," he said, looking at me particularly sternly, and then stepped aside to let Lisa come in.He didn't want to leave, and looked at us both mockingly. "Go! Go!" I ordered at a loss.At this moment my wall clock struck seven o'clock hoarsely.