The Adolescent

“As for my running away, that is, my wanting to run away, that was five months after those first two months. And generally all my life I’ve been slow to make decisions. When I went to bed and covered myself with the blanket, I at once began dreaming of you, Andrei Petrovich, of you alone; I don’t know at all why it worked out that way. I even saw you in my sleep. Above all, I dreamed passionately that you would suddenly walk in, and I’d rush to you, and you would take me out of that place and bring me to your house, to that study, and we’d go to the theater again, well, and so on. Above all, we wouldn’t part—that was above all! And when I had to wake up in the morning, then suddenly the boys’ mockery and scorn would begin. One of them would begin straight off by beating me and making me bring him his boots; he would abuse me in the nastiest terms, especially trying to explain my origin to me, to the delight of all the listeners. And when Touchard himself suddenly appeared, something unbearable started in my soul. I felt that I’d never be forgiven here—oh, I was gradually beginning to understand precisely what would not be forgiven and precisely where my fault lay! And so I finally resolved to run away. I dreamed of it terribly for a whole two months, and finally decided; it was September then. I waited till all my comrades went away for the weekend, and meanwhile, on the sly, I carefully tied myself up a little bundle of the most necessary things. I had two roubles. I was going to wait till it got dark. ‘I’ll creep down the stairs,’ I thought, ‘and go out, and then go on.’ Where? I knew that Andronikov had already been transferred to Petersburg, so I decided to find Mme. Fanariotov’s house on the Arbat. ‘I’ll spend the night walking or sitting somewhere, and in the morning I’ll ask somebody in the courtyard: where is Andrei Petrovich now, and if not in Moscow, then in what city or country? They’ll surely tell me, I’ll leave, and then in another place somewhere I’ll ask somebody which gate to take in order to go to such and such city, and so I’ll go out, and go on, go on. I’ll keep on going; I’ll spend the nights somewhere under the bushes, and I’ll eat nothing but bread, and for two roubles I’ll have enough bread for a very long time.’ On Saturday, however, I didn’t manage to run away; I had to wait for the next day, Sunday, and, as if on purpose, Touchard and his wife went somewhere on Sunday; Agafya and I were the only ones left in the whole house. I waited for night in terrible anguish, I remember, sitting in our classroom by the window and looking at the dusty street with its little wooden houses and the rare passersby. Touchard lived on the outskirts, and the city gate could be seen from the windows: is that the one? I kept imagining. The setting sun was so red, the sky was so cold, and a sharp wind, just like today, blew the sand about. It finally became completely dark. I stood in front of an icon and began to pray, only quickly, quickly, I was in a hurry; I seized my little bundle and tiptoed down the creaky stairs, terribly afraid that Agafya would hear me from the kitchen. The door was locked, I opened it, and suddenly—dark, dark night stood black before me like an endless and dangerous unknown, and the wind tore at my visored cap. I went out; from across the pavement came the hoarse, drunken bellowing of an abusive passerby; I stood, looked, and quietly turned back, quietly went upstairs, quietly undressed, put down my bundle, and lay facedown, without tears and without thoughts, and it was from that very moment, Andrei Petrovich, that I began to think! From that very moment, when I realized that, besides being a lackey, I was also a coward, my real and correct development began!”

“And at this very moment I see through you once and for all!” Tatyana Pavlovna suddenly jumped up from her place, and even so unexpectedly that I was quite unprepared for it. “Not only were you a lackey then, you’re a lackey now, you have a lackey soul! What would it have cost Andrei Petrovich to send you to be a cobbler? He’d even have done a good deed, teaching you a craft! Who would ask or demand that he do any more for you? Your father, Makar Ivanych, did not so much ask as almost demand that you, his children, not be taken from the lower estates. No, you don’t appreciate that he got you as far as the university, and that through him you acquired rights.⁴¹ The boys teased him, you see, and so he swore to take revenge on mankind . . . Scum that you are!”

I confess, I was astounded by this outburst. I stood up and stared for some time, not knowing what to say.