Notes from the Underground

by Fyodor Dostoyevsky

  V

  "So this is it, this is it at last--contact with real life," I mutteredas I ran headlong downstairs. "This is very different from the Pope'sleaving Rome and going to Brazil, very different from the ball on LakeComo!"

  "You are a scoundrel," a thought flashed through my mind, "if you laughat this now."

  "No matter!" I cried, answering myself. "Now everything is lost!"

  There was no trace to be seen of them, but that made no difference--Iknew where they had gone.

  At the steps was standing a solitary night sledge-driver in a roughpeasant coat, powdered over with the still falling, wet, and as it werewarm, snow. It was hot and steamy. The little shaggy piebald horsewas also covered with snow and coughing, I remember that very well. Imade a rush for the roughly made sledge; but as soon as I raised myfoot to get into it, the recollection of how Simonov had just given mesix roubles seemed to double me up and I tumbled into the sledge like asack.

  "No, I must do a great deal to make up for all that," I cried. "But Iwill make up for it or perish on the spot this very night. Start!"

  We set off. There was a perfect whirl in my head.

  "They won't go down on their knees to beg for my friendship. That is amirage, cheap mirage, revolting, romantic and fantastical--that'sanother ball on Lake Como. And so I am bound to slap Zverkov's face!It is my duty to. And so it is settled; I am flying to give him a slapin the face. Hurry up!"

  The driver tugged at the reins.

  "As soon as I go in I'll give it him. Ought I before giving him theslap to say a few words by way of preface? No. I'll simply go in andgive it him. They will all be sitting in the drawing-room, and he withOlympia on the sofa. That damned Olympia! She laughed at my looks onone occasion and refused me. I'll pull Olympia's hair, pull Zverkov'sears! No, better one ear, and pull him by it round the room. Maybethey will all begin beating me and will kick me out. That's mostlikely, indeed. No matter! Anyway, I shall first slap him; theinitiative will be mine; and by the laws of honour that is everything:he will be branded and cannot wipe off the slap by any blows, bynothing but a duel. He will be forced to fight. And let them beat menow. Let them, the ungrateful wretches! Trudolyubov will beat mehardest, he is so strong; Ferfitchkin will be sure to catch holdsideways and tug at my hair. But no matter, no matter! That's what Iam going for. The blockheads will be forced at last to see the tragedyof it all! When they drag me to the door I shall call out to them thatin reality they are not worth my little finger. Get on, driver, geton!" I cried to the driver. He started and flicked his whip, I shoutedso savagely.

  "We shall fight at daybreak, that's a settled thing. I've done withthe office. Ferfitchkin made a joke about it just now. But where canI get pistols? Nonsense! I'll get my salary in advance and buy them.And powder, and bullets? That's the second's business. And how can itall be done by daybreak? and where am I to get a second? I have nofriends. Nonsense!" I cried, lashing myself up more and more. "It's ofno consequence! The first person I meet in the street is bound to be mysecond, just as he would be bound to pull a drowning man out of water.The most eccentric things may happen. Even if I were to ask thedirector himself to be my second tomorrow, he would be bound toconsent, if only from a feeling of chivalry, and to keep the secret!Anton Antonitch...."

  The fact is, that at that very minute the disgusting absurdity of myplan and the other side of the question was clearer and more vivid tomy imagination than it could be to anyone on earth. But ....

  "Get on, driver, get on, you rascal, get on!"

  "Ugh, sir!" said the son of toil.

  Cold shivers suddenly ran down me. Wouldn't it be better ... to gostraight home? My God, my God! Why did I invite myself to this dinneryesterday? But no, it's impossible. And my walking up and down forthree hours from the table to the stove? No, they, they and no oneelse must pay for my walking up and down! They must wipe out thisdishonour! Drive on!

  And what if they give me into custody? They won't dare! They'll beafraid of the scandal. And what if Zverkov is so contemptuous that herefuses to fight a duel? He is sure to; but in that case I'll showthem ... I will turn up at the posting station when he's setting offtomorrow, I'll catch him by the leg, I'll pull off his coat when hegets into the carriage. I'll get my teeth into his hand, I'll bite him."See what lengths you can drive a desperate man to!" He may hit me onthe head and they may belabour me from behind. I will shout to theassembled multitude: "Look at this young puppy who is driving off tocaptivate the Circassian girls after letting me spit in his face!"

  Of course, after that everything will be over! The office will havevanished off the face of the earth. I shall be arrested, I shall betried, I shall be dismissed from the service, thrown in prison, sent toSiberia. Never mind! In fifteen years when they let me out of prison Iwill trudge off to him, a beggar, in rags. I shall find him in someprovincial town. He will be married and happy. He will have agrown-up daughter.... I shall say to him: "Look, monster, at my hollowcheeks and my rags! I've lost everything--my career, my happiness,art, science, THE WOMAN I LOVED, and all through you. Here arepistols. I have come to discharge my pistol and ... and I ... forgiveyou. Then I shall fire into the air and he will hear nothing more ofme...."

  I was actually on the point of tears, though I knew perfectly well atthat moment that all this was out of Pushkin's SILVIO and Lermontov'sMASQUERADE. And all at once I felt horribly ashamed, so ashamed that Istopped the horse, got out of the sledge, and stood still in the snowin the middle of the street. The driver gazed at me, sighing andastonished.

  What was I to do? I could not go on there--it was evidently stupid,and I could not leave things as they were, because that would seem asthough ... Heavens, how could I leave things! And after such insults!"No!" I cried, throwing myself into the sledge again. "It is ordained!It is fate! Drive on, drive on!"

  And in my impatience I punched the sledge-driver on the back of theneck.

  "What are you up to? What are you hitting me for?" the peasantshouted, but he whipped up his nag so that it began kicking.

  The wet snow was falling in big flakes; I unbuttoned myself, regardlessof it. I forgot everything else, for I had finally decided on theslap, and felt with horror that it was going to happen NOW, AT ONCE,and that NO FORCE COULD STOP IT. The deserted street lamps gleamedsullenly in the snowy darkness like torches at a funeral. The snowdrifted under my great-coat, under my coat, under my cravat, and meltedthere. I did not wrap myself up--all was lost, anyway.

  At last we arrived. I jumped out, almost unconscious, ran up the stepsand began knocking and kicking at the door. I felt fearfully weak,particularly in my legs and knees. The door was opened quickly asthough they knew I was coming. As a fact, Simonov had warned them thatperhaps another gentleman would arrive, and this was a place in whichone had to give notice and to observe certain precautions. It was oneof those "millinery establishments" which were abolished by the policea good time ago. By day it really was a shop; but at night, if one hadan introduction, one might visit it for other purposes.

  I walked rapidly through the dark shop into the familiar drawing-room,where there was only one candle burning, and stood still in amazement:there was no one there. "Where are they?" I asked somebody. But bynow, of course, they had separated. Before me was standing a personwith a stupid smile, the "madam" herself, who had seen me before. Aminute later a door opened and another person came in.

  Taking no notice of anything I strode about the room, and, I believe, Italked to myself. I felt as though I had been saved from death and wasconscious of this, joyfully, all over: I should have given that slap, Ishould certainly, certainly have given it! But now they were not hereand ... everything had vanished and changed! I looked round. I couldnot realise my condition yet. I looked mechanically at the girl whohad come in: and had a glimpse of a fresh, young, rather pale face,with straight, dark eyebrows, and with grave, as it were wondering,eyes that attracted me at once; I should ha
ve hated her if she had beensmiling. I began looking at her more intently and, as it were, witheffort. I had not fully collected my thoughts. There was somethingsimple and good-natured in her face, but something strangely grave. Iam sure that this stood in her way here, and no one of those fools hadnoticed her. She could not, however, have been called a beauty, thoughshe was tall, strong-looking, and well built. She was very simplydressed. Something loathsome stirred within me. I went straight up toher.

  I chanced to look into the glass. My harassed face struck me asrevolting in the extreme, pale, angry, abject, with dishevelled hair."No matter, I am glad of it," I thought; "I am glad that I shall seemrepulsive to her; I like that."