Chapter 42 Chapter 18 Diary (1)

This was the third time he had sat down to read Pavel's papers.He couldn't say exactly what made it so hard to read.However, he still focused on flipping through it, from the meaning between the lines, to the letters in the document, to the handwritten ink traces, to the dirty places left by his fingers, not letting go of any place.From time to time, he would close his eyes and touch the paper with his lips.How precious: every scratch on the paper is precious to him, he said to himself. He still reluctantly thought of more.There was something ugly about his assault on Pavel.When he thought of the child's posthumous work, he was actually thinking a little bit crookedly.

For him, Pavel's Siberian story has been spoiled, perhaps, by Maximov's taunts.He couldn't pretend that the writing itself wasn't childish, that it wasn't a parody.How little Pavel brings to life in the story!He almost wanted to pick up the pen and write it for him, crossing out that long passage of sentimental dogma and adding the necessary vividness.Young Sergei was a self-important prudish man, and he needed to be put at a distance, and he needed to be made more ridiculous, especially with his physical rigidity.Moreover, it was certainly not the promise of conjugal life that the country girl would have attracted him (as far as he could foresee, their conjugal life consisted of nothing more than a meal of dry bread and turnips, served on a bare plank. sleep), but his attitude, the attitude of preparing himself for a mysterious fate.Where did that attitude come from?From Chernyshevsky, of course, not just Chernyshevsky, from the Gospel, from Jesus—a veiled imitation of Jesus, then misunderstood and misused like the atheist Nechayev, and finally Form a set of principles to guide him to complete the killing mission.A bagpiper with a herd of pigs on his heels. "She would do anything for him," Matryosha said of Katri, the pig girl.Do anything, tolerate humiliation, tolerate death.All shame is gone, all self-esteem is gone.What did Nechayev and his women do in the house of Rafay's millinery?Also, Matrona—is she grooming herself to be part of the harem?

He closed Pavel's manuscripts and pushed them aside.Once he starts to write, he can't help feeling disgusted by it. And those diaries.He flipped through it roughly, and for the first time found that there were censorship marks drawn in pencil.Those neat little ticks were not by Pavel, so they can only be by Maximov.Who do they want to show these things to?Maybe a scribe.However, in his current situation, he couldn't care so much, he could only take these as instructions to himself. "Meet A. today," he read from where the diary began to tick off November 11, 1861, almost exactly a year ago. November 14: A mysterious "A." November 20: "A. is at the Antonov's house." Every mention of "A." is marked with a tick next to it.

He flipped the diary forward. "A." first appeared on June 6th. In addition, there is also a tick on May 14th, where the diary begins: "Have a long talk with...", next to it is ticked and question mark. September 14, 1869, a month before Pavel's death: "Sketch of the story (thoughts from A.). A locked door. We stood outside knocking and shouting to get in. Every Every few days, the door would open a crack, and one of us would be called in by the guards. The chosen one had to give up everything, even stripped of his clothes. He became a servant, learned to bow, and spoke in a low voice .They choose those who are the gentlest and most docile as servants.For the strong,they will close the door.

"Theme: Spreading that spirit among servants. First murmurs, then rage, breakaway resistance, and finally, hand in hand, vows of vengeance. Fighting a grandfatherly gray-haired and loyal old house slave." Fan, along with the chandelier, give 'em a smack' (as he puts it) and set fire to the curtains." Cranky, a fable, not a story at all.There is no life, no center, no spirit in it. July 6, 1869: "For my name day (late), Snitkina sent five rubles, asking me not to mention this to the 'Master'." "Snitkina": Anya, his wife. "Master": himself.Is this the passages Maximov is referring to?He had warned that certain words could hurt him.If that is the case, Maximov should understand that this is only a small arrow.He can take much more than that.

He flipped forward again, to an earlier time. March 26, 1867: "Meet FM last night, he was sneaky (with a whore?), I had to pretend to be very drunk. He 'led me home' (like playing the game of father forgiving the prodigal son), put Like a dead body, put me on the sofa. He and Snitkina quarreled in low voices for a while. After the quarrel, FM tried to wash my feet. In short, it was very embarrassing. Tell me this morning I must have my own lodging, Snitkina. Can't she wrap his arms around him and give her a little wrist? She's too afraid of him." sad?Yes, it's really sad.He had to make concessions to Maximov.If there is anything that can dissuade him from continuing to read, it is definitely not sadness and pain, it is only fear.Fear. Fear, say, of his trust being broken in his wife, likewise fear of his trust being broken in Pavel.

To whom were these hoax-like papers intended?Did Pavel write them just to be seen by his own father, and then die to leave behind these irrefutable accusations?Of course not, it's crazy to think so!It is better than the woman with the ghost of her husband writing a letter to her lover behind her back, and the ghost of her husband reading her letter over her shoulder.Every word has a double meaning.Seen this way as passion and the promise of concessions, seen that way as begging and blaming.Divided writing, from a divided mind.Did Maximov realize this? July 2, 1867, three months later: "Freedom to the serfs! Free them at last! To the train station to see off FM and his bride. Immediately after noticing that the place he placed me was impossible to live in (My own water cup, my own set meal cup, sleep schedule at 10:30 in the evening). VG promised me that I can live with him before I find another place to live. I have to persuade old Maikov to lend me some money and pay the rent directly.”

He flipped the papers back and forth absently.Forgive me.No matter how he dodges, no matter how he pretends, there is not a word of forgiveness in it.It seemed impossible that his last words, with that child in mind during his days away, would not have been mercifully forgiving. Inside the lead casket was a silver casket, and within the silver casket was a gold casket, and in the gold casket was the young body clad in white, with its arms round his breast.There was a telegram between his fingers.He watched carefully until tears streamed down his face.He wanted to find words of forgiveness, but there were none.The telegram was written in Hebrew, in Syriac, in symbols he had never seen before.

There was a knock at the door.It was Anna Sergeyevna who entered, dressed as she had gone out. "I want to thank you for looking after Matryosha for me. Is there any trouble with her?" It took him a moment to gather himself together, thinking of Nechayev's malicious ordering of the child, of which she was still ignorant. "No trouble. How did she see you?" "She's asleep. I don't want to wake her up." She noticed the papers spread out on the bed. "I see you're reading Pavel's papers, so I won't bother you." "No, don't go. Reading papers is not a pleasant thing."

"Fyodor Mikhailovich, let me ask you one more time, don't read that stuff, it wasn't written for you. You can only hurt yourself by reading it." "I wish I had heeded your advice. Unfortunately, the reasons for my stay here were not intended to save myself from harm. I have been reading Pavel's diary. I read a piece that I remember very clearly. I remember it clearly from beginning to end. Now, alive, I see it again through other people's eyes. Pavel can't go home by himself in the middle of the night-he has been drinking. I have to help him undress, I I have never noticed before that his toenails are so small, and I was a little surprised. His toenails seem to have never grown, and they still maintain the appearance of a child. Fat and fleshy feet —like his father's, I suppose—his father had little toenails, too. He lost his shoes, or he threw them away himself. His feet were as cold as ice."

Pavel wore only socks, and walked on the street at midnight with deep feet and shallow feet.A lost angel, an imperfect angel, an outcast of God.His feet are the feet of pedestrians, stepping on the body of our great mother, and his feet are the feet of farmers.His feet are not dancer's feet. Pavel fell on the sofa, leaned his head lazily on the sofa, and threw up all over.