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    Chapter 23 - Page 2

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    . . . On the evening of the
    third day Emelia urged me to go and see the officer of whom I
    have spoken, and whose address I had learned from our dvornik.
    More strictly speaking, I had noticed him when, on a previous
    occasion, he had come to play cards here, and I had followed him
    home. Of course I now see that I did wrong, but I felt beside
    myself when I heard them telling him stories about me. Exactly
    what happened next I cannot remember. I only remember that
    several other officers were present as well as he. Or it may be
    that I saw everything double--God alone knows. Also, I cannot
    exactly remember what I said. I only remember that in my fury I
    said a great deal. Then they turned me out of the room, and threw
    me down the staircase--pushed me down it, that is to say. How I
    got home you know. That is all. Of course, later I blamed myself,
    and my pride underwent a fall; but no extraneous person except
    yourself knows of the affair, and in any case it does not matter.
    Perhaps the affair is as you imagine it to have been, Barbara?
    One thing I know for certain, and that is that last year one of
    our lodgers, Aksenti Osipovitch, took a similar liberty with
    Peter Petrovitch, yet kept the fact secret, an absolute secret.
    He called him into his room (I happened to be looking through a
    crack in the partition-wall), and had an explanation with him in
    the way that a gentleman should--noone except myself being a
    witness of the scene; whereas, in my own case, I had no
    explanation at all. After the scene was over, nothing further
    transpired between Aksenti Osipovitch and Peter Petrovitch, for
    the reason that the latter was so desirous of getting on in life
    that he held his tongue. As a result, they bow and shake hands
    whenever they meet. . . . I will not dispute the fact that I have
    erred most grievously--that I should never dare to dispute, or
    that I have fallen greatly in my own estimation; but, I think I
    was fated from birth so to do--and one cannot escape fate, my
    beloved. Here, therefore, is a detailed explanation of my
    misfortunes and sorrows, written for you to read whenever you may
    find it convenient. I am far from well, beloved, and have lost
    all my gaiety of disposition, but I send you this letter as a
    token of my love, devotion, and respect, Oh dear lady of my
    affections.-- Your humble servant,

    MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN.
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