THE COMPLETE NOVELLAS & SHORT STORIES OF FYODOR DOSTOYEVSKY. Fyodor Dostoyevsky

position, you have means, you are highly respected. Why risk it all at the caprice of coquetry? You must see that.’ ‘No, I am going to be married,’ he said; ‘domestic bliss.’… Here’s domestic bliss for you! In old days he deceived other husbands … now he is drinking the cup … you must excuse me, but this explanation was absolutely necessary…. He is an unfortunate man, and is drinking the cup — now!…” At this point the gentleman in raccoon gave such a gulp that he seemed to be sobbing in earnest.

      “Ah, damnation take them all! There are plenty of fools. But who are you?”

      The young man ground his teeth in anger.

      “Well, you must admit after this that I have been gentlemanly and open with you … and you take such a tone!”

      “No, excuse me … what is your name?”

      “Why do you want to know my name?…”

      “Ah!”

      “I cannot tell you my name….”

      “Do you know Shabrin?” the young man said quickly.

      “Shabrin!!!”

      “Yes, Shabrin! Ah!!!” (Saying this, the gentleman in the wadded overcoat mimicked the gentleman in raccoon.) “Do you understand?”

      “No, what Shabrin?” answered the gentleman in raccoon, in a fluster. “He’s not Shabrin; he is a very respectable man! I can excuse your discourtesy, due to the tortures of jealousy.”

      “He’s a scoundrel, a mercenary soul, a rogue that takes bribes, he steals government money! He’ll be had up for it before long!”

      “Excuse me,” said the gentleman in raccoon, turning pale, “you don’t know him; I see that you don’t know him at all.”

      “No, I don’t know him personally, but I know him from others who are in close touch with him.”

      “From what others, sir? I am agitated, as you see….”

      “A fool! A jealous idiot! He doesn’t look after his wife! That’s what he is, if you like to know!”

      “Excuse me, young man, you are grievously mistaken….”

      “Oh!”

      “Oh!”

      A sound was heard in Bobynitsyn’s flat. A door was opened, voices were heard.

      “Oh, that’s not she! I recognise her voice; I understand it all now, this is not she!” said the gentleman in raccoon, turning as white as a sheet.

      “Hush!”

      The young man leaned against the wall.

      “My dear sir, I am off. It is not she, I am glad to say.”

      “All right! Be off, then!”

      “Why are you staying, then?”

      “What’s that to you?”

      The door opened, and the gentleman in raccoon could not refrain from dashing headlong downstairs.

      A man and a woman walked by the young man, and his heart stood still…. He heard a familiar feminine voice and then a husky male voice, utterly unfamiliar.

      “Never mind, I will order the sledge,” said the husky voice.

      “Oh, yes, yes; very well, do….”

      “It will be here directly.”

      The lady was left alone.

      “Glafira! Where are your vows?” cried the young man in the wadded overcoat, clutching the lady’s arm.

      “Oh, who is it? It’s you, Tvorogov? My goodness! What are you doing here?”

      “Who is it you have been with here?”

      “Why, my husband. Go away, go away; he’ll be coming out directly … from … in there … from the Polovitsyns’. Go away; for goodness’ sake, go away.”

      “It’s three weeks since the Polovitsyns moved! I know all about it!”

      “Aïe!” The lady dashed downstairs. The young man overtook her.

      “Who told you?” asked the lady.

      “Your husband, madam, Ivan Andreyitch; he is here before you, madam….”

      Ivan Andreyitch was indeed standing at the front door.

      “Aïe, it’s you,” cried the gentleman in raccoon.

      “Ah! C’est vous,” cried Glafira Petrovna, rushing up to him with unfeigned delight. “Oh, dear, you can’t think what has been happening to me. I went to see the Polovitsyns; only fancy … you know they are living now by Izmailovsky Bridge; I told you, do you remember? I took a sledge from there. The horses took fright and bolted, they broke the sledge, and I was thrown out about a hundred yards from here; the coachman was taken up; I was in despair. Fortunately Monsieur Tvorogov …”

      “What!”

      Monsieur Tvorogov was more like a fossil than like Monsieur Tvorogov.

      “Monsieur Tvorogov saw me here and undertook to escort me; but now you are here, and I can only express my warm gratitude to you, Ivan Ilyitch….”

      The lady gave her hand to the stupefied Ivan Ilyitch, and almost pinched instead of pressing it.

      “Monsieur Tvorogov, an acquaintance of mine; it was at the Skorlupovs’ ball we had the pleasure of meeting; I believe I told you; don’t you remember, Koko?”

      “Oh, of course, of course! Ah, I remember,” said the gentleman in raccoon addressed as Koko. “Delighted, delighted!” And he warmly pressed the hand of Monsieur Tvorogov.

      “Who is it? What does it mean? I am waiting…,” said a husky voice.

      Before the group stood a gentleman of extraordinary height; he took out a lorgnette and looked intently at the gentleman in the raccoon coat.

      “Ah, Monsieur Bobynitsyn!” twittered the lady. “Where have you come from? What a meeting! Only fancy, I have just had an upset in a sledge … but here is my husband! Jean! Monsieur Bobynitsyn, at the Karpovs’ ball….”

      “Ah, delighted, very much delighted!… But I’ll take a carriage at once, my dear.”

      “Yes, do, Jean, do; I still feel frightened; I am all of a tremble, I feel quite giddy…. At the masquerade tonight,” she whispered to Tvorogov…. “Goodbye, goodbye, Mr. Bobynitsyn! We shall meet tomorrow at the Karpovs’ ball, most likely.”

      “No, excuse me, I shall not be there tomorrow; I don’t know about tomorrow, if it is like this now….” Mr. Bobynitsyn muttered something between his teeth, made a scrape with his boot, got into his sledge and drove away.

      A carriage drove up; the lady got into it. The gentleman in the raccoon coat stopped, seemed incapable of making a movement and gazed blankly at the gentleman in the wadded coat. The gentleman in the wadded coat smiled rather foolishly.

      “I don’t know….”

      “Excuse me, delighted to make your acquaintance,” answered the young man, bowing with curiosity and a little intimidated.

      “Delighted, delighted!…”

      “I think you have lost your galosh….”

      “I — oh, yes, thank you, thank you. I keep meaning to get rubber ones.”

      “The foot gets so hot in rubbers,” said the young man, apparently with immense interest.

      “Jean! Are you coming?”

      “It does make it hot. Coming directly, darling; we are having an interesting conversation! Precisely so, as you say, it does make the foot hot…. But excuse me, I …”