〃Is　everything　going　well？〃　I　ask　him。
  〃Your　Excellency！　So　help　me　God！　。　。　。〃
  He　persists　in　grovelling　before　me　for　no　sort　of　reason；　and　soon　bores　me；　so　I　send　him　away　to　the　kitchen；　where　they　give　him　dinner。
  Pyotr　Ignatyevitch　comes　to　see　me　on　holidays；　too；　with　the　special　object　of　seeing　me　and　sharing　his　thoughts　with　me。　He　usually　sits　down　near　my　table；　modest；　neat；　and　reasonable；　and　does　not　venture　to　cross　his　legs　or　put　his　elbows　on　the　table。　All　the　time；　in　a　soft；　even；　little　voice；　in　rounded　bookish　phrases；　he　tells　me　various；　to　his　mind；　very　interesting　and　piquant　items　of　news　which　he　has　read　in　the　magazines　and　journals。　They　are　all　alike　and　may　be　reduced　to　this　type：　〃A　Frenchman　has　made　a　discovery；　some　one　else；　a　German；　has　denounced　him；　proving　that　the　discovery　was　made　in　1870　by　some　American；　while　a　third　person；　also　a　German；　trumps　them　both　by　proving　they　both　had　made　fools　of　themselves；　mistaking　bubbles　of　air　for　dark　pigment　under　the　microscope。　Even　when　he　wants　to　amuse　me；　Pyotr　Ignatyevitch　tells　me　things　in　the　same　lengthy；　circumstantial　manner　as　though　he　were　defending　a　thesis；　enumerating　in　detail　the　literary　sources　from　which　he　is　deriving　his　narrative；　doing　his　utmost　to　be　accurate　as　to　the　date　and　number　of　the　journals　and　the　name　of　every　one　concerned；　invariably　mentioning　it　in　full　　Jean　Jacques　Petit；　never　simply　Petit。　Sometimes　he　stays　to　dinner　with　us；　and　then　during　the　whole　of　dinner…time　he　goes　on　telling　me　the　same　sort　of　piquant　anecdotes；　reducing　every　one　at　table　to　a　state　of　dejected　boredom。　If　Gnekker　and　Liza　begin　talking　before　him　of　fugues　and　counterpoint；　Brahms　and　Bach；　he　drops　his　eyes　modestly；　and　is　overcome　with　embarrassment；　he　is　ashamed　that　such　trivial　subjects　should　be　discussed　before　such　serious　people　as　him　and　me。
  In　my　present　state　of　mind　five　minutes　of　him　is　enough　to　sicken　me　as　though　I　had　been　seeing　and　hearing　him　for　an　eternity。　I　hate　the　poor　fellow。　His　soft；　smooth　voice　and　bookish　language　exhaust　me；　and　his　stories　stupefy　me。　。　。　。　He　cherishes　the　best　of　feelings　for　me；　and　talks　to　me　simply　in　order　to　give　me　pleasure；　and　I　repay　him　by　looking　at　him　as　though　I　wanted　to　hypnotize　him；　and　think；　〃Go；　go；　go！　。　。　。〃　But　he　is　not　amenable　to　thought…suggestion；　and　sits　on　and　on　and　on。　。　。　。
  While　he　is　with　me　I　can　never　shake　off　the　thought；　〃It's　possible　when　I　die　he　will　be　appointed　to　succeed　me；〃　and　my　poor　lecture…hall　presents　itself　to　me　as　an　oasis　in　which　the　spring　is　died　up；　and　I　am　ungracious；　silent；　and　surly　with　Pyotr　Ignatyevitch；　as　though　he　were　to　blame　for　such　thoughts；　and　not　I　myself。　When　he　begins；　as　usual；　praising　up　the　German　savants；　instead　of　making　fun　of　him　good…humouredly；　as　I　used　to　do；　I　mutter　sullenly：
  〃Asses；　your　Germans！　。　。　。〃
  That　is　like　the　late　Professor　Nikita　Krylov；　who　once；　when　he　was　bathing　with　Pirogov　at　Revel　and　vexed　at　the　water's　being　very　cold；　burst　out　with；　〃Scoundrels；　these　Germans！〃　I　behave　badly　with　Pyotr　Ignatyevitch；　and　only　when　he　is　going　away；　and　from　the　window　I　catch　a　glimpse　of　his　grey　hat　behind　the　garden…fence；　I　want　to　call　out　and　say；　〃Forgive　me；　my　dear　fellow！〃
  Dinner　is　even　drearier　than　in　the　winter。　Gnekker；　whom　now　I　hate　and　despise；　dines　with　us　almost　every　day。　I　used　to　endure　his　presence　in　silence；　now　I　aim　biting　remarks　at　him　which　make　my　wife　and　daughter　blush。　Carried　away　by　evil　feeling；　I　often　say　things　that　are　simply　stupid；　and　I　don't　know　why　I　say　them。　So　on　one　occasion　it　happened　that　I　stared　a　long　time　at　Gnekker；　and；　_a　propos_　of　nothing；　I　fired　off：
  〃An　eagle　may　perchance　swoop　down　below　a　cock；　　　　　　But　never　will　the　fowl　soar　upwards　to　the　clouds。　。
  And　the　most　vexatious　thing　is　that　the　fowl　Gnekker　shows　himself　much　cleverer　than　the　eagle　professor。　Knowing　that　my　wife　and　daughter　are　on　his　side；　he　takes　up　the　line　of　meeting　my　gibes　with　condescending　silence；　as　though　to　say：
  〃The　old　chap　is　in　his　dotage；　what's　the　use　of　talking　to　him？〃
  Or　he　makes　fun　of　me　good…naturedly。　It　is　wonderful　how　petty　a　man　may　become！　I　am　capable　of　dreaming　all　dinner…time　of　how　Gnekker　will　turn　out　to　be　an　adventurer；　how　my　wife　and　Liza　will　come　to　see　their　mistake；　and　how　I　will　taunt　them　　and　such　absurd　thoughts　at　the　time　when　I　am　standing　with　one　foot　in　th　e　grave！
  There　are　now；　too；　misunderstandings　of　which　in　the　old　days　I　had　no　idea　except　from　hearsay。　Though　I　am　ashamed　of　it；　I　will　describe　one　that　occurred　the　other　day　after　dinner。
  I　was　sitting　in　my　room　smoking　a　pipe；　my　wife　came　in　as　usual；　sat　down；　and　began　saying　what　a　good　thing　it　would　be　for　me　to　go　to　Harkov　now　while　it　is　warm　and　I　have　free　time；　and　there　find　out　what　sort　of　person　our　Gnekker　is。
  〃Very　good；　I　will　go；〃　I　assented。
  My　wife；　pleased　with　me；　got　up　and　was　going　to　the　door；　but　turned　back　and　said：
  〃By　the　way；　I　have　another　favour　to　ask　of　you。　I　know　you　will　be　angry；　but　it　is　my　duty　to　warn　you。　。　。　。　Forgive　my　saying　it；　Nikolay　Stepanovitch；　but　all　our　neighbours　and　acquaintances　have　begun　talking　about　your　being　so　often　at　Katya's。　She　is　clever　and　well…educated；　I　don't　deny　that　her　company　may　be　agreeable；　but　at　your　age　and　with　your　social　position　it　seems　strange　that　you　should　find　pleasure　in　her　society。　。　。　。　Besides；　she　has　such　a　reputation　that　。　。　。〃
  All　the　blood　suddenly　rushed　to　my　brain；　my　eyes　flashed　fire；　I　leaped　up　and；　clutching　at　my　head　and　stamping　my　feet；　shouted　in　a　voice　unlike　my　own：
  〃Let　me　alone！　let　me　alone！　let　me　alone！〃
  Probably　my　face　was　terrible；　my　voice　was　strange；　for　my　wife　suddenly　turned　pale　and　began　shrieking　aloud　in　a　despairing　voice　that　was　utterly　unlike　her　own。　Liza；　Gnekker；　then　Yegor；　came　running　in　at　our　shouts。　。　。　。
  〃Let　me　alone！〃　I　cried；　〃let　me　alone！　Go　away！〃
  My　legs　turned　numb　as　though　they　had　ceased　to　exist；　I　felt　myself　falling　into　someone's　arms；　for　a　little　while　I　still　heard　weeping；　then　sank　into　a　swoon　which　lasted　two　or　three　hours。
  Now　about　Katya；　she　comes　to　see　me　every　day　towards　evening；　and　of　course　neither　the　neighbours　nor　our　acquaintances　can　avoid　noticing　it。　She　comes　in　for　a　minute　and　carries　me　off　for　a　drive　with　her。　She　has　her　own　horse　and　a　new　chaise　bought　this　summer。　Altogether　she　lives　in　an　expensive　style；　she　has　taken　a　big　detached　villa　with　a　large　garden；　and　has　taken　all　her　town　retinue　with　her　　two　maids；　a　coachman　。　。　。　I　often　ask　her：
  〃Katya；　what　will　you　live　on　when　you　have　spent　your　father's　money？〃
  〃Then　we　shall　see；〃　she　answers。
  〃That　money；　my　dear；　deserves　to　be　treated　more　seriously。　It　was　earned　by　a　good　man；　by　honest　labour。〃
  〃You　have　told　me　that　already。　I　know　it。〃
  At　first　we　drive　through　the　open　country；　then　through　the　pine…wood　which　is　visible　from　my　window。　Nature　seems　to　me　as　beautiful　as　it　always　has　been；　though　some　evil　spirit　whispers　to　me　that　these　pines　and　fir　trees；　birds；　and　white　clouds　on　the　sky；　will　not　notice　my　absence　when　in　three　or　four　months　I　am　dead。　Katya　loves　driving；　and　she　is　pleased　that　it　is　fine　weather　and　that　I　am　sitting　beside　her。　She　is　in　good　spirits　and　does　not　say　harsh　things。
  〃You　are　a　very　good　man；　Nikolay　Stepanovitch；〃　she　says。　〃You　are　a　rare　specimen；　and　there　isn't　an　actor　who　would　understand　how　to　play　you。　Me　or　Mihail　Fyodorovitch；　for　instance；　any　poor　actor　could　do；　but　not　you。　And　I　envy　you；　I　envy　you　horribly！　Do　you　know　what　I　stand　for？　What？〃
  She　ponders　for　a　minute；　and　then　asks　me：
  〃Nikolay　Stepanovitch；　I　am　a　negative　phenomenon！　Yes？〃
  〃Yes；〃　I　answer。
  〃H'm！　what　am　I　to　do？〃
  What　answer　was　I　to　make　her？　It　is　easy　to　say　〃work；〃　or　〃give　your　possessions　to　the　poor；〃　or　〃know　yourself；〃　and　because　it　is　so　easy　to　say　that；　I　don't　know　what　to　answer。
  My　colleagues　when　they　teach　therapeutics　advise　〃the　individual　study　of　each　separate　case。〃　One　has　but　to　obey　this　advice　to　gain　the　conviction　that　the　methods　recommended　in　the　textbooks　as　the　best　and　as　providing　a　safe　basis　for　treatment　turn　out　to　be　quite　unsuitable　in　individual　cases。　It　is　just　the　same　in　moral　ailments。
  But　I　must　make　some　answer；　and　I　say：
  〃You　have　too　much　free　time；　my　dear；　you　absolutely　must　take　up　some　occupation。　After　all；　why　shouldn't　you　be　an　actress　again　if　it　is　your　vocation？〃
  〃I　cannot！〃
  〃Your　tone　and　manner　suggest　that　you　are　a　victim。　I　don't　like　that；　my　dear；　it　is　your　own　fault。　Remember；　you　began　with　falling　out　with　people　and　methods；　but　you　have　done　nothing　to　make　either　better。　You　did　not　struggle　with　evil；　but　were　cast　down　by　it；　and　you　are　not　the　victim　of　the　struggle；　but　of　your　own　impotence。　Well；　of　course　you　were　young　and　inexperienced　then；　now　it　may　all　be　different。　Yes；　really；　go　on　the　stage。　You　will　work；　you　will　serve　a　sacred　art。〃
  〃Don't　pretend；　Nikolay　Ste