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

to him like three years. At last he got away and rushed back to Vasya. When he went into the room, he found it in darkness. Vasya was not at home. He asked Mavra. Mavra said that he had been writing all the time, and had not slept at all, then he had paced up and down the room, and after that, an hour before, he had run out, saying he would be back in half -an -hour; “and when, says he, Arkady Ivanovitch comes in, tell him, old woman, says he,” Mavra told him in conclusion, “ that I have gone out for a walk,” and he repeated the order three or four times.

      “He is at the Artemyevs,” thought Arkady Ivanovitch, and he shook his head.

      A minute later he jumped up with renewed hope.

      “He has simply finished,” he thought, “that’s all it is; he couldn’t wait, but ran off there. But, no! he would have waited for me… . Let’s have a peep what he has there.”

      He lighted a candle, and ran to Vasya’s writing-table: the work had made progress and it looked as though there were not much left to do. Arkady Ivanovitch was about to investigate further, when Vasya himself walked in… .

      “Oh, you are here?” he cried, with a start of dismay.

      Arkady Ivanovitch was silent. He was afraid to question Vasya. The latter dropped his eyes and remained silent too, as he began sorting the papers. At last their eyes met. The look in Vasya’s was so beseeching, imploring, and broken, that Arkady shuddered when he saw it. His heart quivered and was full.

      “Vasya, my dear boy, what is it? What’s wrong?” he cried, rushing to him and squeezing him in his arms. “Explain to me, I don’t understand you, and your depression. What is the matter with you, my poor, tormented boy? What is it? Tell me all about it, without hiding anything. It can’t be only this.”

      Vasya held him tight and could say nothing. He could scarcely breathe.

      “Don’t, Vasya, don’t ! Well, if you don’t finish it, what then? I don’t understand you; tell me your trouble. You see it is for your sake I … Oh dear! oh dear!” he said, walking up and down the room and clutching at everything he came across, as though seeking at once some remedy for Vasya. “I will go to Yulian Mastakovitch instead of you tomorrow. I will ask him — entreat him to let you have another day. I will explain it all to him, anything, if it worries you so… .”

      “God forbid!” cried Vasya, and turned as white as the wall. He could scarcely stand on his feet.

      “Vasya! Vasya!”

      Vasya pulled himself together. His lips were quivering; he tried to say something, but could only convulsively squeeze Arkady’s hand in silence. His hand was cold. Arkady stood facing him, full of anxious and miserable suspense. Vasya raised his eyes again.

      “Vasya, God bless you, Vasya! You wring my heart, my dear boy, my friend.”

      Tears gushed from Vasya’s eyes; he flung himself on Arkady’s bosom.

      “I have deceived you, Arkady,” he said. “I have deceived you. Forgive me, forgive me! I have been faithless to your friendship …”

      “What is it, Vasya? What is the matter? “ asked Arkady, in real alarm.

      “Look!”

      And with a gesture of despair Vasya tossed out of the drawer on to the table six thick manuscripts, similar to the one he had copied.

      “What’s this?”

      “What I have to get through by the day after tomorrow. I haven’t done a quarter! Don’t ask me, don’t ask me how it has happened,” Vasya went on, speaking at once of what was distressing him so terribly. “Arkady, dear friend, I don’t know myself what came over me. I feel as though I were coming out of a dream. I have wasted three weeks doing nothing. I kept … I … kept going to see her… . My heart was aching, I was tormented by … the uncertainty … I could not write. I did not even think about it. Only now, when happiness is at hand for me, I have come to my senses.”

      “Vasya,” began Arkady Ivanovitch resolutely, “Vasya, I will save you. I understand it all. It’s a serious matter; I will save you. Listen! listen to me: I will go to Yulian Mastakovitch tomorrow… . Don’t shake your head; no, listen! I will tell him exactly how it has all been; let me do that … I will explain to him. … I will go into everything. I will tell him how crushed you are, how you are worrying yourself.”

      “Do you know that you are killing me now? “ Vasya brought out, turning cold with horror.

      Arkady Ivanovitch turned pale, but at once controlling himself, laughed.

      “Is that all? Is that all?” he said. “Upon my word, Vasya, upon my word ! Aren’t you ashamed ? Come, listen! I see that I am grieving you. You see I understand you; I know what is passing in your heart. Why, we have been living together for five years, thank God! You are such a kind, soft-hearted fellow, but weak, unpardonably weak. Why, even Lizaveta Mikalovna has noticed it. And you are a dreamer, and that’s a bad thing, too; you may go from bad to worse, brother. I tell you, I know what you want! You would like Yulian Mastakovitch, for instance, to be beside himself and, maybe, to give a ball, too, from joy, because you are going to get married… . Stop, stop! you are frowning. You see that at one word from me you are offended on Yulian Mastakovitch’s account. Let him alone. You know I respect him just as much as you do. But argue as you may, you can’t prevent my thinking that you would like there to be no one unhappy in the whole world when you are getting married… . Yes, brother, you must admit that you would like me, for instance, your best friend, to come in for a fortune of a hundred thousand all of a sudden, you would like all the enemies in the world to be suddenly, for no rhyme or reason, reconciled, so that in their joy they might all embrace one another in the middle of the street, and then, perhaps, come here to call on you. Vasya, my dear boy, I am not laughing; it is true; you’ve said as much to me long ago, in different ways. Because you are happy, you want every one, absolutely every one, to become happy at once. It hurts you and troubles you to be happy alone. And so you want at once to do your utmost to be worthy of that happiness, and maybe to do some great deed to satisfy your conscience. Oh! I understand how ready you are to distress yourself for having suddenly been remiss just where you ought to have shown your zeal, your capacity … well, maybe your gratitude, as you say. It is very bitter for you to think that Yulian Mastakovitch may frown and even be angry when he sees that you have not justified the expectations he had of you. It hurts you to think that you may hear reproaches from the man you look upon as your benefactor and at such a moment! when your heart is full of joy and you don’t know on whom to lavish your gratitude… . Isn’t that true? It is, isn’t it?”

      Arkady Ivanovitch, whose voice was trembling, paused, and drew a deep breath.

      Vasya looked affectionately at his friend. A smile passed over his lips. His face even lighted up, as though with a gleam of hope.

      “Well, listen, then,” Arkady Ivanovitch began again, growing more hopeful, “there’s no necessity that you should forfeit Yulian Mastakovitch ‘s favour… Is there, dear boy? Is there any question of it? And since it is so,” said Arkady, jumping up, “I shall sacrifice myself forlfyou. I am going tomorrow to Yulian Mastakovitch, and don’t oppose me. You magnify your failure to a crime, Vasya. Yulian Mastakovitch is a magnanimous and merciful, and, what is more, he is not like you. He will listen to you and me, and get us out of our trouble, brother Vasya. Well, are you calmer?”

      Vasya pressed his friend’s hands with tears in his eyes.

      “Hush, hush, Arkady,” he said, “the thing is settled. I haven’t finished, so very well; if I haven’t finished, I haven’t finished, and there’s no need for you to go. I will tell him all about it, I will go myself. I am calmer now, I am perfectly calm; only you mustn’t go. … But listen …”

      “Vasya, my dear boy,” Arkady Ivanovitch cried joyfully, “I judged from what you said. I am glad that you have thought better of things and have recovered yourself. But whatever may befall you, whatever happens, I am with you, remember that. I see that it worries you to think of my speaking toYulian Mastakovitch and I