Chapter six and Unpleasant Predicament, Part four. The worst of it was that
Pseldonimov's circumstances were far worse than could have been imagined in spite of the unattractedness
of his presence surroundings. And while Ivan Ilyitch is lying on the floor and
Pseldonimov is standing over him, tearing his hair in despair, we will break
off the thread of our story and say a few explanatory words about Porphyry Petrovitch
Pseldonimov. Not more than a month before his wedding, he was in a
state of hopeless destitution. He came from a province where his father had served
in some department and where he had died while awaiting his trial on some charge.
When five months before his wedding, Pseldonimov, who had been in hopeless
misery in Petersburg for a whole year before, got his berth at ten roubles
a month. He revived both physically and mentally, but he was soon crushed
by circumstances again. There were only two Pseldonimovs left in the world, himself
and his mother, who had left the province after her husband's death. The
mother and son barely existed in the freezing cold and sustained life on the most
dubious substances. There were days when Peldonimov himself went with a jug to the
fontanka for water to drink. When he got his place, he succeeded in
settling with his mother in a corner. She took in washing, while for
four months he scraped together every farthing to get himself boots and an overcoat.
And what troubles he had to endure At his office, his superiors approached him
with the question how long was it since he had had a bath? There
was a rumor about him that under the collar of his uniform there were nests
of bugs. But Seldonimov was a man of strong character. On the surface,
he was mild and meek. He had the merest smattering of education.
He was practically never heard to talk of anything. I do not know for
certain whether he thought, made plans and theories, had dreams. But on
the other hand, there was being formed within him an instinctive, furtive,
unconscious determination to fight his way out of his wretched circumstances. He had the
persistence of an ant. Destroy an ant's nest, and they will begin at
once re erecting it, destroy it again, and they will begin again without
wearying. He was a constructive house building animal. One could see from his
brow that he would make his way, would build his nest, and perhaps
even saved for a rainy day. His mother was the only creature in the
world who loved him, and she loved him beyond everything. She was a
woman of resolute character, hard working and indefatigable, and at the same time
good natured. So perhaps they might have lived in their corner for five or
six years till their circumstances changed, if they had not come across the retired
titular councilor Mlekopetaiev, who had been a clerk in the treasury and had served
at one time in the provinces, but had lately settled in Petersburg and had
established himself there with his family. He knew Pseldonimov and had at one time
been under some obligation to his father. He had a little money, not
a large sum, of course, but there it was. How much it
was No one knew, not his wife, nor his older daughter, nor
his relations. He had two daughters, and as he was an awful bully,
a drunkard, a domestic tyrant, and in addition to that an invalid.
He took it into his head one day to marry one of his daughters
to pseldonimov I knew his father. He would say he was a good fellow,
and his son will be a good fellow. Mlekopitayev did exactly as he
liked. His word was law. He was a very queer bully. For
the most part, he spent his time sitting in an armchair, having lost
the use of his legs from some disease, which did not, however,
prevent him from drinking vodka. For days together he would be drinking and swearing.
He was an ill natured man. He always wanted to have some one
whom he could be continually tormenting, and for that purpose he kept several distant
relations. His sister, a sickly and peevish woman, two of his wives
sisters, also ill natured and very free with their tongues, and his old
aunt, who had, through some accident a broken rib. He kept another
dependent, also a Russianized German, for the sake of her talent for entertaining
him with stories from the Arabian nights. His sole gratification consisted in during at
all these unfortunate women and abusing them every minute with all his energies, though
the latter, not accepting his wife, who had been born with toothache,
dared not utter a word in his presence. He set them at loggerheads at
one another, inventing and fostering spiteful backbiting and dissensions among them, and then
laughed and joist, seeing how they were ready to tear one another to pieces.
He was very much delighted when his elder daughter, who had lived in
great poverty for ten years with her husband, an officer of some sort,
and was at last left a widow, came to live with him with three
little sickly children. He could not endure her children, but as her arrival
had increased the material upon which he could work his daily experiments, the old
man was very much pleased. All these ill natured women and sickly children,
together with their tormentor, were crowded together in a wooden house on Petersburg's side,
and did not get enough to eat because the old man was stingy and
gave out to the money of farthing at a time, though he did not
grudge himself vodka. They did not get enough sleep because the old man suffered
from sleeplessness and insisted on being amused. In short, they were all in
misery and cursed their fate. It was at that time that Malekopatayev's eye fell
upon Pseldonimov. He was struck by his long nose and submissive air. His
weakly and unprepossessing younger daughter had just reached the age of seventeen. Though she
had at one time attended a German school, she had acquired scarcely anything but
the alphabet. Then she grew up rickety and anemik in fear of her crippled,
drunken father's crutch, in a bedlam of domestic backbiting, eavesdropping, and
scolding. She had never had any friends or any brains. She had for
a long time been eager to be married. In company, she sat mute,
but at home with her mother and the woman of the household, she
was spiteful and cantankerous. She was particularly fond of pinching and smacking her sister's
children, telling tales of their pilfering bread and sugar, and this led to
endless and implacable strife with her elder sister. Her old father himself offered her
to sel down him off. Miserable as the latter's position was, he yet
asked for a little time to consider his mother, and he hesitated for a
long time. But with the young lady there was to come as dowry a
house, and though it was a nasty little wooden house of one story,
yet it was property of a kind. Moreover, they would give with her
four hundred rules, and how long it would take him to save it up
himself. What am I taking the man into my house for, shouted the
drunken bully. In the first place, because you were all females, and
I am sick of female society. I want sell donhim off too, to
dance to my piping, for I am his benefactor. And in the second
place, I am doing it because you are all cross and don't want it.
So I'll do it to spite you. What I have said. I
have said, and you beat her porfiry when she is your wife. She
has been possessed of seven devils ever since she was born. You beat them
out of her, and I'll get the stick ready. Pseldonimov made no answer,
but he was almost decided. Before the wedding, his mother and he
were taken into the house, washed clothed, provided with boots and money for
the wedding. The old man took them under his protection, possibly just because
the whole family was prejudiced against them. He positively liked Pseldonimov's mother so that
he actually restrained himself and did not jur at her. On the other hand,
he made Svaldonimov dance the Cossack dance a week before the wedding. Well,
that's enough. I only wanted to see whether you remembered your position before
me or not, he said at the end of the dance. He allowed
just enough money for the wedding with nothing despair, and invited all his relations
and acquaintances. On Pseldonimov's side, there was no one but the young man
who wrote for the Firebrand and Akim Petrovitch, the guest of honor. Pseldonimov
was perfectly aware that his bride cherished an aversion for him, and that she
was set upon marrying the officer instead of him, but he put up with
everything. He had made a compact with his mother to do so. The
old father had been drunk and abusive in foul tongue the whole of the wedding
day and during the party In the evening, the whole family took refuge in
the back rooms and were crowded there to suffocation. The front rooms were devoted
to the dance and the supper. At last, when the old man fell
asleep dead drunk, at eleven o'clock, the bride's mother, who had been
particularly displeased with Pseldonimov's mother that day, made up her mind to lay aside
her wreath, become gracious and joined the company. Ivan Ilyitch's arrival had turned
everything upside down. Madame Blakopatayev was overcome with embarrassment and began grumbling that she
had not been told that the general had been invited. She was assured that
he had come uninvited, but was so stupid as to refuse to believe it.
Champagne had to be got. Peldonimov's mother had only one rouble, while
Pseldonimov himself had not one farthing. He had to grovel before his ill natured
mother in law to beg for the money for one bottle and then for another.
They pleaded for the sake of his future position in service for his career.
They tried to persuade her. She did at last give from her own
purse, But she forced Pseldonimov to swallow such a cupful of gall and bitterness
that more than once he ran into the room where the nuptial couch had been
prepared, and madly clutching at his hair and trembling all over with impotent rage,
he buried his head in the bed destined for the joys of paradise.
No, indeed, ivan Iliaitch had no notion of the price paid for the
two bottles of Jackson he had drunk that evening. What was the horror,
the misery, and even the despair of Pseldonimov. When ivan Ilyitch's visit it
ended in this unexpected way, he had a prospect again of no end of
misery, and perhaps a night of tears and outcries from his peevish bride and
upbraidings from her unreasonable relations. Even apart from this, his head ache already
and there was dizziness and mist before his eyes. And here ivan Iliaitch needed
looking after. At three o'clock at night, he had to hunt for a
doctor or a carriage to take him home. And a carriage it must be,
for it would be impossible to let an ordinary cabby take him in that
condition. And where could he get the money even for a carriage. Madame
Lakopatayev, furious that the general had not addressed two words to her and had
not even looked at her supper, declared that she had not a farthing.
Possibly, she really had not a farthing? Where could he get it?
What was he to do? Yes, indeed he had good cause to tear
his hair. Meanwhile, Ivan Ilyitch was moved to a little leather sofa that
stood in the dining room. While they were clearing the tables and putting them
away, Pseldonimov was rushing all over the place to borrow money, even tried
to get it from the servants, but it appeared that nobody had any.
He even ventured to trouble Akim Petrovitch, who had stayed after the other guests.
But good natured as he was, the latter was reduced to such bewilderment
and even alarm at the mention of money that he uttered the most unexpected and
foolish phrases. Another time, with pleasure, he muttered, but now you
really must excuse me, and taking his cap, he ran as fast as
he could out of the house. Only the good natured youth who had talked
about the dream book was any use at all, and even that came to
nothing. He too stayed after the others, showing genuine sympathy with Pseldonimov's misfortunes.
At last, Pseldonimov, together with his mother and the young man,
decided in consultation not to send for a doctor, but rather to fetch a
carriage and take the invalid home, and meanwhile to try certain domestic remedies till
the carriage arrived, such as moistening his temples at his head with cold water,
putting ice on his head, and so on. Pseldonimov's mother undertook this
task. The friendly youth flew off in search of a carriage, as there
were not even ordinary cabs to be found on the Petersburg side at that hour.
He went off to some livery stables at a distance to wake up the
coach. They began bargaining and declared that five roubles would be little to ask
for a carriage at that time of night. They agreed to come, however,
for three When at last, just before five o'clock the young men arrived
at Pseldonimov's with the carriage, they had changed their minds. It appeared that
Ivan Ilieitch, who was still unconscious, had become so seriously unwell, was
moaning and tossing so terribly that to move him and take him home in such
a condition was impossible and actually unsafe. What will it lead to next?
Said Pseldonimov, utterly disheartened. What was to be done? A new problem
arose. If the invalid remained in the house, where should he be moved?
And where could they put him? There were only two bedsteads in the
house, one large double bed in which old Lacopaitaiev and his wife slept,
and another double bed of imitation walnut, which had just been purchased and was
destined for the newly married couple. All the other inhabitants of the house slept
on the floor, side by side on feather beds, for the most part,
in bad condition and stuffy, anything but presentable in fact, And even
of these the supply was insufficient. There was not one to spair. Where
could the invalid be put? A feather bed might perhaps have been found,
It might, in the last resort, have been pulled from under some one.
But where and on what could a bed have been made up? It
seemed that the bed must be made up in the drawing room. For that
room was the furthest from the bosom of the family, and had a door
into the passage. But on what could the bed be made surely not upon
chairs. We all know that beds can only be made up on chairs for
schoolboys when they come home for the weekend, and it would be terribly lacking
in respect to make up a bed in that way for a personage like Ivan
Iliitch. What he said next morning when he found himself lying on chairs,
Seldonimov would not hear of that the only alternative was to put him on the
bridle couch. This bridal couch, as we have mentioned already, was in
a little room that opened out of the dining room. On the bedstead was
a double mattress, actually newly bought firsthand clean sheets, four pillows in pink
calico, covered with frilled muslin cases. The quilt was of pink satin,
and it was quilted in patterns. Muslin curtains hung down from a golden ring
overhead. In fact, it was all just as it should be, and
the guests who had all visited the bridle chamber had admired the decoration of it.
Though the bride could not endure Seldonimov. She had several times in the
course of the evening run in to have a look at it on the sly
What was her indignation her wrath when she learned that they meant to move an
invalid suffering from something not unlike a mild attack of cholera to her bridal couch.
The bride's mother took her part, broke into abuse, and vowed she
would complain to her husband next day, But Seldonimov asserted himself and insisted Ivan
Iliach was moved into the bridal chamber and a bed was made up on chairs
for the young people. The bride whimpered, would have liked to pinch him,
but dared not disobey. Her papa had a crutch with which she was
very familiar, and she knew that her papa would call her to account next
day. To console her, they carried the pink satin quilt and pillows in
muslin cases into the drawing room. At that moment, the youth arrived with
the carriage and was horribly alarmed that the carriage was not wanted. He was
left to pay for it himself, and he never had as much as a
ten Kopek piece. Seldonimov explained that he was utterly bankrupt. They tried to
parley with the driver, but he began to be noisy and even to batter
on the shutters. How it ended, I don't know exactly. I believe
the youth was carried off to Pesky by way of a hostage, to foth
Rosdenski Street, where he hoped to rouse a student who was spending the night
at a friend's and to try whether he had any money. It was going
on for six o'clock in the morning, when the young people were left alone
and shut up in the drawing room. Pseldonimov's mother spent the whole night by
the bedside of the sufferer. She installed herself on a rug on the floor
and covered herself with an old coat, but could not sleep because she had
to get up every minute. Ivan Iliach had a terrible attack of colic.
Madame Pseldonimov, a woman of courage and greatness of soul, undressed him with
her own hands, took off all his things, looked after him as if
he were her own son, and spent the whole night carrying basins etcepter from
the bedroom across the passage, and bringing them back empty. And yet the
misfortunes of that night were not yet over. Not more than ten minutes after
the young people had been shut up alone in the drawing room, a piercing
shriek was suddenly heard, not a cry of joy, but a shriek of
the most sinister kind. The screams were followed by a noise, a crash,
as though the fog of chairs, and instantly there burst into the still
dark room a perfect crowd of exclaiming and frightened women, attired in every kind
of des abille. These women who were the bride's mother, her older sister,
abandoning for a moment, the sick children, and her three aunts,
even the one with a broken rib, dragged herself in. Even the cook
was there, and the German lady told stories whose own feather bed the best
in the house, and her only property had been forcibly dragged from under her
for the young couple trailed in together with the others. All these respectable and
sharp eyed ladies had a quarter of an hour before made their way on tiptoe
from the kitchen across the passage, and were listening in the ante room,
devoured by unaccountable curiosity. Meanwhile, someone lighted a candle, and a surprising
spectacle met the eyes of all the chairs supporting the broad feather bed. Only
at the sides had parted under the weight, and the feather bed had fallen
between them on the floor. The bride was sobbing with anger. This time
she was mortally offended. Seldonimov morally shattered, stood like a criminal caught in
a crime. He did not even attempt to defend himself. Shrieks and exclamations
sounded on all sides. Seldonimov's mother ran up at the noise, but the
bride's mamma, on this occasion, got the upper hand. She began by
showering strange and for the most part quite undeserved reproaches such as, a nice
husband, you are after this, what are you good for after such a
disgrace? And so on, and at last carried her daughter away from her
husband, undertaking to bear the full responsibility for doing so with her ferocious husband,
who would demand an explanation. All the others followed her out, exclaiming
and shaking their heads. No one remained with Sseldonimov except his mother, who
tried to comfort him but he sent her away at once. He was beyond
consolation. He made his way to the sofa and sat down in the most
gloomy confusion of mind. Just as he was barefooted and in nothing but his
night attire. His thoughts whirled in a tangled criss cross in his mind.
At times he mechanically looked about the room, where only a little while ago
the dancers had been whirling madly, and in which the cigarette smoke still lingered.
Cigarette ends and sweetmeat papers still littered. The slopped and dirty floor,
The wreck of the nuptial couch and the overturned chairs bore witness to the transitoriness
of the fondest and surest earthly hopes and dreams. He sat like this almost
an hour. The most oppressive thoughts kept coming into his mind, such as
the doubt what was in store for him in the office. Now he recognized
with painful clearness that he would have at all costs to exchange into another department,
that he could not possibly remain where he was after all that had happened
that evening. He thought too of Mlekopitayev, who would probably make him dance
the Cossack dance. Next day to test his meekness. He reflected too that
though Mlekopitayev had given fifty roubles for the wedding festivities, every farthing of which
had been spent, he had not thought of giving him the four hundred roubles.
Yet no mention had been made of it, in fact, and indeed
even the house had not been formally made over to him. He thought two
of his wife, who had left him at the most critical moment of his
life, of the tall officer who had dropped on one knee before her.
He had noticed that already he thought of the seven devils, which, according
to the testimony of her own father, were in possession of his wife,
and of the crutch. In readiness to drive them out. Of course,
he felt equal to bearing a great deal. But destiny had let loose such
surprises upon him that he might well have doubts of his fortitude, so pchel
Donimov mused dolefully. Meanwhile, the candle end was going out, its fading
light falling straight upon cel Donimov's profile through a colossal shadow of it on the
wall, with a drawn out neck, a hooked nose, and with two
tufts of hair sticking out in his forehead and on the back of his head.
At last, when the air was growing cool with the chill of early
morning, he got up, frozen and spiritually numb, crawled to the feather
bed that was lying between the chairs, and without rearranging anything, without putting
out the candle end, without even laying the pillow under his head, fell
into a leaden, death like sleep, such as the sleep of men condemned
to flogging on the moral must be. On the other hand, what could
be compared with the agonizing night spent by Ivan Ilyitch Pralynsky on the bridal couch
of the unlucky Peldonimov. For some time, headache, vomiting, and other
most unpleasant symptoms did not leave him for one second. He was in the
torments of hell. The faint glimpses of consciousness that visited his brain lighted up
such an abyss of horrors, such gloomy and revolting pictures, that it would
have been better for him not to have returned to consciousness. Everything was still
in a turmoil in his mind. However, he recognized Pseldonimov's mother, for
instance, hurt her gentle admonition such as be patient, my dear be patient,
good sir, it won't be so bad. Presently he recognized her,
but could give no logical explanation of her presence beside him. Revolting Phantom's haunted
him most frequently of all, he was haunted by Semyon Ivanovitch, but looking
more intently, he saw that it was not Semyon Ivanitch but Pseldonimov's nose.
He had visions too, of the free and easy artist, and the officer,
and the old lady with her face tied up. What interested him most
of all was the gilt ring which hung over his head, through which the
curtains hung. He could distinguish it distinctly in the dim light of the candle
end which lighted up the room, and he kept wondering inwardly what was the
object of that ring? Why was it there? What did it mean?
He questioned the old lady several times about it, but apparently did not say
what he meant, and she evidently did not understand it. However much he
struggled to explain. At last. By morning, the symptoms had ceased,
and he fell into a sleep, a sound sleep without dreams. He slept
about an hour, and when he woke he was almost completely conscious, with
an insufferable headache and a disgusting taste in his mouth and on his tongue,
which seemed turned into a piece of cloth. He sat up in bed,
looked about him, and pondered, the pale light of morning peeping through the
cracks of the shutters in a narrow streak quivered on the wall. It was
about seven o'clock in the morning. But when ivan Iliach suddenly grasped the position
and recalled all that had happened to him since the evening, When he remembered
all his adventures at supper, the failure of his magnanimous action, his speech
at table, When he realized all at once, with horrifying clearness, all
that might come of this now, all that people would say and think of
him. When he looked round and saw to what a mournful and hideous condition
he had reduced the peaceful bridal couch of his clerk. Oh, then such
deadly shame, such agony, overwhelmed him that he uttered a shriek, hid
his face in his hands, and fell back on the pillow in despair.
A minute later, he jumped out of bed, saw his clothes carefully folded
and brushed on a chair beside him, and seizing them, and as quickly
as he could, in desperate haste, began putting them on, looking round
and seeming terribly frightened at something. On another chair close by lay his greatcoat
and fur cap, and his yellow gloves were in his cap. He meant
to steal away secretly, but suddenly the door opened and the elder Madame Pseldonimov
walked in with an earthenware jog and basin. A towel was hanging over her
shoulder. She set down the jog and without further conversation, told him that
he must wash. Come, my good, sir, wash, You can't
go without washing. And at that instant Ivan Iliaitch recognized that if there was
one being in the whole world whom he need not fear, and before whom
he need not feel ashamed, it was that old lady he washed, And
long afterwards, at painful moments of his life, he recalled, among other
pangs of remorse, all the circumstances of that waking, and that earthenware basin,
and the china jug filled with cold water in which there were still floating
icicles, and the oval cake of soap at fifteen copecks in pink paper with
letters embossed on it, evidently bought for the bridal pair, though it fell
to ivan Iliach to use it, and the old lady with a linen towel
over her left shoulder. The cold water refreshed him. He dried his face,
and without even thanking his sister of bercy, he snatched up his hat
flung over his shoulders, the coat handed him by seldon him off and crossing
the passage and the kitchen, where the cat was already mewing, and the
cook sitting up in her bed, staring after him with greedy curiosity, ran
out into the yard and into the street, and threw himself into the first
sledge he came across. It was a frosty morning, a chilly yellow fog
still hid the house and everything. Ivan Iliatch turned up his collar. He
thought that everyone was looking at him, that they were all recognizing him.
All For eight days he did not leave the house or show himself at the
office. He was ill, wretchedly ill, but more morally than physically.
He lived through a perfect hell in those days, and they must have been
reckoned to his account. In the other world there were moments when he thought
of becoming a monk and entering a monastery. There really were his imagination indeed
took special excursions during that period. He pictured subdued, subterranean singing and open
coffin, living in a solitary cell, forests and caves. But when he
came to himself, he recognized almost at once that all this was dreadful nonsense
and exaggeration, and was ashamed of this nonsense. Then began attacks of moral
agony on the theme of his existence of monkey. Then shame flamed up again
in his soul, took complete possession of him at once, consumed him like
fire and reopened his wounds. He shuddered as pictures of all sorts rose before
his mind. What would people say about him? What would they think when
he walked into his office? What a whisper would dog his steps for a
whole year, ten years, his whole life, His story would go down
to posterity. He sometimes fell into such dejection that he was ready to go
straight off to Semyon Ivanovitch and ask for his forgiveness and friendship. He did
not even justify himself. There was no limit to his blame of himself.
He could find no externuating circumstances, and was ashamed of trying to. He
had thoughts, too, of resigning his post at once and devoting himself to
human happiness as a simple citizen in solitude. In any case, he would
have completely to change his whole circle of acquaintances, and so thoroughly as to
eradicate all memory of himself. Then the thought occurred to him that this too
was nonsense, and that if he adopted greater severity with his subordinates, it
might all be set right. Then he began to feel hope and courage again.
At last, at the expiration of eight days of hesitation and agonies,
he felt that he could not endure to be an uncertainty any longer, and
umboumata, he made up his mind to go to the office. He had
pictured a thousand times over his return to the office. As he sat at
home in misery, with horror and conviction, he told himself that he would
certainly hear behind him an ambiguous whisper, would see ambiguous faces, would intercept
ominous smiles. What was his surprise when nothing of the sort happened. He
was greeted with respect. He was met with bows. Everyone was grave,
everyone was busy. His heart was filled with joy. As he made his
way to his own room, he set to work at once with the utmost
gravity. He listened to some reports and explanations, subtle, doubtful points.
He felt as though he had never explained knotty points and given his decisions so
intelligently, so je diciously as that morning he saw that they were satisfied with
him, that they respected him, that he was treated with respect. The
most thin skinned sensitiveness could not have discovered anything. At last, Akim Petrovitch
made his appearance with some documents. The sight of him sent a stab to
Ivan Ilieitch's heart, but only for an instant. He went into the business
with Akima Petrovitch, talked with dignity, explained things, and showed him what
was to be done. The only thing he noticed was that he avoided looking
at Akim Petrovitch for any length of time, or rather Akim Petrovitch seemed afraid
of catching his eye. But at last Akim Petrovitch had finished and began to
collect his papers. And there is one other matter. He began as dryly
as he could, the kerk Seldonimov's petition to be transferred to another department.
His excellency, Semyon Ivanovitch Hipulenko has promised him a post. He pegs,
your gracious assent, Your excellency, Oh, so he's being transferred, said
ivan Ilyitch, and he felt as though a heavy weight had rolled off his
heart. He glanced at Akim Petrovitch, and at that instant their eyes met
certainly, I for my part, I will use, answered ivan Ilyitch.
I am ready. Akima Petrovitch evidently wanted to slip away as quickly as he
could, but in a rush of generous feeling, ivan Ilyitch determined to speak
out. Apparently some inspiration had come to him again tell him. He began
bending a candid glance full of profound meaning upon Akima Petrovitch. Tell Pseldonimov that
I feel no ill will I do not that. On the contrary, I
am ready to forget all that has passed, to forget it all, but
all at once. Ivan Ilieitch broke off, looking with wonder at the strange
behavior of Akim Petrovitch, who suddenly seemed transformed from a sensible person into a
fearful fool. Instead of listening and hearing ivan Iliaitch to the end, he
suddenly flushed Crimson in the silliest way, began with positively unseemly haste, making
strange little bows, and at the same time edging towards the door. His
whole appearance betrayed a desire to sink through the floor, or more accurately,
to get back to his table as quickly as possible. Ivan Iliaitch, left
alone, got up from his chair in confusion. He looked in the looking
glass without noticing his face. No severity, severity, and nothing but severity.
He whispered almost unconsciously, and suddenly a vivid flush overspread his face.
He felt suddenly more ashamed, more weighed down than he had been in the
most insufferable moments of his eight days of tribulation. I did break down,
he said to himself, and sank helplessly into his chair. End of suction six