Chapter 27 - Page 2

have to bewail his
misery for the rest of his existence, yet do you take my sister,'
and I should lay his hand in Lubotshka's. Then he would say to
me, 'No, not for all the world!' and I should reply, 'Prince
Nechludoff, it is in vain for you to attempt to outdo me in
nobility. Not in the whole world does there exist a more
magnanimous being than Nicolas Irtenieff.' Then I should salute
him and depart. In tears Dimitri and Lubotshka would pursue me,
and entreat me to accept their sacrifice, and I should consent to
do so, and, perhaps, be happy ever afterwards--if only I were in
love with Varenika." These fancies tickled my imagination so
pleasantly that I felt as though I should like to communicate
them to my friend; yet, despite our mutual vow of frankness, I
also felt as though I had not the physical energy to do so.

Dimitri returned from Lubov Sergievna's room with some toothache
capsules which she had given him, yet in even greater pain, and
therefore in even greater depression, than before. Evidently no
bedroom had yet been prepared for me, for presently the boy who
acted as Dimitri's valet arrived to ask him where I was to sleep.

"Oh, go to the devil!" cried Dimitri, stamping his foot. "Vasika,
Vasika, Vasika!" he went on, the instant that the boy had left
the room, with a gradual raising of his voice at each repetition.
" Vasika, lay me out a bed on the floor."

"No, let ME sleep on the floor," I objected.

"Well, it is all one. Lie anywhere you like," continued Dimitri
in the same angry tone. "Vasika, why don't you go and do what I
tell you? "

Evidently Vasika did not understand what was demanded of him, for
he remained where he was.

"What is the matter with you? Go and lay the bed, Vasika, I tell
you!" shouted Dimitri, suddenly bursting into a sort of frenzy;
yet Vasika still did not understand, but, blushing hotly, stood
motionless.

"So you are determined to drive me mad, are you?"--and leaping
from his chair and rushing upon the boy, Dimitri struck him on
the head with the whole weight of his fist, until the boy rushed
headlong from the room. Halting in the doorway, Dimitri glanced
at me, and the expression of fury and pain which had sat for a
moment on his countenance suddenly gave place to such a boyish,
kindly, affectionate, yet ashamed, expression that I felt sorry
for him, and reconsidered my intention of leaving him to himself.
He said nothing, but for a long time paced the room in silence,
occasionally glancing at me with the same deprecatory expression
as before. Then he took his notebook from the table, wrote
something in it, took off his jacket and