The Adolescent

“Gentlemen,” I was trembling all over, “I won’t tell you my idea for anything, but, on the contrary, I will ask you from your own point of view—don’t think it’s mine, because it may be that I love mankind a thousand times more than all of you taken together! Tell me—and you absolutely must answer me now, you are duty bound, because you’re laughing—tell me, how will you entice me to follow you? Tell me, how will you prove to me that with you it will be better? Where are you going to put the protest of my person in your barracks? I have long wished to meet you, gentlemen! You will have barracks, communal apartments, stricte necessaire,¹⁸ atheism, and communal wives without children—that’s your finale, I know it, sirs. And for all that, for that small share of middling profit that your reasonableness secures for me, for a crust and some warmth, you take my whole person in exchange! With your permission, sir: say my wife is taken away; are you going to subdue my person so that I won’t smash my rival’s head in? You’ll say that I myself will become more reasonable then; but what will the wife of such a reasonable husband say, if she has the slightest respect for herself? No, it’s unnatural, sirs; shame on you!”

“And you’re what—a specialist in the ladies’ line?” the gleeful voice of the nonentity rang out.

For a moment I had the thought of throwing myself at him and pounding him with my fists. He was a shortish fellow, red-haired and freckled . . . but, anyhow, devil take his looks!

“Don’t worry, I’ve never yet known a woman,” I said curtly, addressing him for the first time.

“Precious information, which might have been given more politely, in view of the ladies!”

But they all suddenly began stirring densely; they all started taking their hats and preparing to leave—not on account of me, of course, but because the time had come; but this silent treatment of me crushed me with shame. I also jumped to my feet.

“Allow me, however, to know your name, you did keep looking at me,” the teacher suddenly stepped towards me with the meanest smile.

“Dolgoruky.”

“Prince Dolgoruky?”

“No, simply Dolgoruky, the son of the former serf Makar Dolgoruky and the illegitimate son of my former master, Mr. Versilov. Don’t worry, gentlemen, I’m not saying it so that you’ll throw yourselves on my neck and we’ll all start lowing like calves from tenderness!”

A loud and most unceremonious burst of laughter came at once, so that the baby who had fallen asleep behind the door woke up and squealed. I was trembling with fury. They all shook hands with Dergachev and left, paying no attention to me.

“Let’s go,” Kraft nudged me.

I went up to Dergachev, squeezed his hand as hard as I could, and shook it several times, also as hard as I could.

“I apologize for the constant insults from Kudriumov” (that was the red-haired one), Dergachev said to me.

I followed Kraft out. I wasn’t ashamed of anything.

VI

OF COURSE, BETWEEN me as I am now and me as I was then there is an infinite difference.

Continuing to be “not ashamed of anything,” I caught up with Vasin while still on the stairs, having left Kraft behind as second-rate, and with the most natural air, as if nothing had happened, asked:

“It seems you know my father—that is, I mean to say, Versilov?”

“We’re not, in fact, acquainted,” Vasin answered at once (and without a whit of that offensive, refined politeness assumed by delicate people when speaking with someone who has just disgraced himself ), “but I know him slightly; I’ve met him and listened to him.”

“If you’ve listened to him, then, of course, you know him, because you are—you! What do you think of him? Forgive the hasty question, but I need to know. Precisely what you would think, your own proper opinion is necessary.”

“You’re asking a lot of me. It seems to me that the man is capable of placing enormous demands on himself and, perhaps, of fulfilling them—but he renders no account to anyone.”

“That’s right, that’s very right, he’s a very proud man! But is he a pure man? Listen, what do you think of his Catholicism? However, I forgot that you may not know . . .”

If I hadn’t been so excited, I naturally would not have fired off such questions, and so pointlessly, at a man I had never spoken with, but had only heard about. It surprised me that Vasin seemed not to notice my madness.

“I’ve also heard something about that, but I don’t know how correct it might be,” he answered as calmly and evenly as before.

“Not a bit! It’s not true about him! Do you really think he can believe in God?”

“He’s a very proud man, as you just said yourself, and many very proud people like to believe in God, especially those who are somewhat contemptuous of people. In many strong people there seems to be a sort of natural need—to find someone or something to bow down to. It’s sometimes very hard for a strong man to bear his own strength.”

“Listen, that must be terribly right!” I cried out again. “Only I wish I could understand . . .”