HIPPOLYTE, who had fallen asleep during Lebedeff's discourse, now suddenly woke up, just as though someone had jogged him in the side. He shuddered, raised himself on his arm, gazed around, and grew very pale. A look almost of terror crossed his face as he recollected.
"What! are they all off? Is it all over? Is the sun up?" He trembled, and caught at the prince's hand. "What time is it? Tell me, quick, for goodness' sake! How long have I slept?" he added, almost in despair, just as though he had overslept something upon which his whole fate depended.
"You have slept seven or perhaps eight minutes," said Evgenie Pavlovitch.
Hippolyte gazed eagerly at the latter, and mused for a few moments.
"Oh, is that all?" he said at last. "Then I--"
He drew a long, deep breath of relief, as it seemed. He realized that all was not over as yet, that the sun had not risen, and that the guests had merely gone to supper. He smiled, and two hectic spots appeared on his cheeks.
"So you counted the minutes while I slept, did you, Evgenie Pavlovitch?" he said, ironically. "You have not taken your eyes off me all the evening--I have noticed that much, you see! Ah, Rogojin! I've just been dreaming about him, prince," he added, frowning. "Yes, by the by," starting up, "where's the orator? Where's Lebedeff? Has he finished? What did he talk about? Is it true, prince, that you once declared that 'beauty would save the world'? Great Heaven! The prince says that beauty saves the world! And I declare that he only has such playful ideas because he's in love! Gentlemen, the prince is in love. I guessed it the moment he came in. Don't blush, prince; you make me sorry for you. What beauty saves the world? Colia told me that you are a zealous Christian; is it so? Colia says you call yourself a Christian."
The prince regarded him attentively, but said nothing.
"You don't answer me; perhaps you think I am very fond of you?" added Hippolyte, as though the words had been drawn from him.
"No, I don't think that. I know you don't love me."
"What, after yesterday? Wasn't I honest with you?"
"I knew yesterday that you didn't love me."
"Why so? why so? Because I envy you, eh? You always think that, I know. But do you know why I am saying all this? Look here! I must have some more champagne--pour me out some, Keller, will you?"
"No, you're not to drink any more, Hippolyte. I won't let you." The prince moved the glass away.
"Well perhaps you're right," said Hippolyte, musing. They might say--yet, devil take them! what does it matter?--prince, what can it matter what people will say of us THEN, eh? I believe I'm half asleep. I've had such a dreadful dream--I've only just remembered it. Prince, I don't wish you such dreams as that, though sure enough, perhaps, I DON'T love you. Why wish a man evil, though you do not love him, eh? Give me your hand--let me press it sincerely. There--you've given me your hand--you must feel that I DO press it sincerely, don't you? I don't think I shall drink any more. What time is it? Never mind, I know the time. The time has come, at all events. What! they are laying supper over there, are they? Then this table is free? Capital, gentlemen! I--hem! these gentlemen are not listening. Prince, I will just read over an article I have here. Supper is more interesting, of course, but--"
Here Hippolyte suddenly, and most unexpectedly, pulled out of his breast-pocket a large sealed paper. This imposing-looking document he placed upon the table before him.
The effect of this sudden action upon the company was instantaneous. Evgenie Pavlovitch almost bounded off his chair in excitement. Rogojin drew nearer to the table with a look on his face as if he knew what was coming. Gania came nearer too; so did Lebedeff and the others--the paper seemed to be an object of great interest to the company in general.
"What have you got there?" asked the prince, with some anxiety.
"At the first glimpse of the rising sun, prince, I will go to bed. I told you I would, word of honour! You shall see!" cried Hippolyte. "You think I'm not capable of opening this packet, do you?" He glared defiantly round at the audience in general.
The prince observed that he was trembling all over.
"None of us ever thought such a thing!" Muishkin replied for all. "Why should you suppose it of us? And what are you going to read, Hippolyte? What is it?"
"Yes, what is it?" asked others. The packet sealed with red wax seemed to attract everyone, as though it were a magnet.
"I wrote this yesterday, myself, just after I saw you, prince, and told you I would come down here. I wrote all day and all night, and finished it this morning early. Afterwards I had a dream."
"Hadn't we better hear it tomorrow?" asked the prince timidly.
"Tomorrow 'there will be no more time!'" laughed Hippolyte, hysterically. "You needn't be afraid; I shall get through the whole thing in forty minutes, at most an hour! Look how interested everybody is! Everybody has drawn near. Look! look at them all staring at my sealed packet! If I hadn't sealed it up it wouldn't have been half so effective! Ha, ha! that's mystery, that is! Now then, gentlemen, shall I break the seal or not? Say the word; it's a mystery, I tell you--a secret! Prince, you know who said there would be 'no more time'? It was the great and powerful angel in the Apocalypse."
"Better not read it now," said the prince, putting his hand on the packet.
"No, don't read it!" cried Evgenie suddenly. He appeared so strangely disturbed that many of those present could not help wondering.
"Reading? None of your reading now!" said somebody; "it's supper- time." "What sort of an article is it? For a paper? Probably it's very dull," said another. But the prince's timid gesture had impressed even Hippolyte.
"Then I'm not to read it?" he whispered, nervously. "Am I not to read it?" he repeated, gazing around at each face in turn. "What are you afraid of, prince?" he turned and asked the latter suddenly.
"What should I be afraid of?"
"Has anyone a coin about them? Give me a twenty-copeck piece, somebody!" And Hippolyte leapt from his chair.
"Here you are," said Lebedeff, handing him one; he thought the boy had gone mad.
"Vera Lukianovna," said Hippolyte, "toss it, will you? Heads, I read, tails, I don't."
Vera Lebedeff tossed the coin into the air and let it fall on the table.
It was "heads."
"Then I read it," said Hippolyte, in the tone of one bowing to the fiat of destiny. He could not have grown paler if a verdict of death had suddenly been presented to him.
"But after all, what is it? Is it possible that I should have just risked my fate by tossing up?" he went on, shuddering; and looked round him again. His eyes had a curious expression of sincerity. "That is an astonishing psychological fact," he cried, suddenly addressing the prince, in a tone of the most intense surprise. "It is ... it is something quite inconceivable, prince," he repeated with growing animation, like a man regaining consciousness. "Take note of it, prince, remember it; you collect, I am told, facts concerning capital punishment... They told me so. Ha, ha! My God, how absurd!" He sat down on the sofa, put his elbows on the table, and laid his head on his hands. "It is shameful--though what does it matter to me if it is shameful?
"Gentlemen, gentlemen! I am about to break the seal," he continued, with determination. "I-I--of course I don't insist upon anyone listening if they do not wish to."
With trembling fingers he broke the seal and drew out several sheets of paper, smoothed them out before him, and began sorting them.
"What on earth does all this mean? What's he going to read?" muttered several voices. Others said nothing; but one and all sat down and watched with curiosity. They began to think something strange might really be about to happen. Vera stood and trembled behind her father's chair, almost in tears with fright; Colia was nearly as much alarmed as she was. Lebedeff jumped up and put a couple of candles nearer to Hippolyte, so that he might see better.
"Gentlemen, this--you'll soon see what this is," began Hippolyte, and suddenly commenced his reading.
"It's headed, 'A Necessary Explanation,' with the motto, 'Apres moi le deluge!' Oh, deuce take it all! Surely I can never have seriously written such a silly motto as that? Look here, gentlemen, I beg to give notice that all this is very likely terrible nonsense. It is only a few ideas of mine. If you think that there is anything mysterious coming--or in a word--"
"Better read on without any more beating about the bush," said Gania.
"Affectation!" remarked someone else.
"Too much talk," said Rogojin, breaking the silence for the first time.
Hippolyte glanced at him suddenly, and when their eye, met Rogojin showed his teeth in a disagreeable smile, and said the following strange words: "That's not the way to settle this business, my friend; that's not the way at all."
Of course nobody knew what Rogojin meant by this; but his words made a deep impression upon all. Everyone seemed to see in a flash the same idea.
As for Hippolyte, their effect upon him was astounding. He trembled so that the prince was obliged to support him, and would certainly have cried out, but that his voice seemed to have entirely left him for the moment. For a minute or two he could not speak at all, but panted and stared at Rogojin. At last he managed to ejaculate:
"Then it was YOU who came--YOU--YOU?"
"Came where? What do you mean?" asked Rogojin, amazed. But Hippolyte, panting and choking with excitement, interrupted him violently.
"YOU came to me last week, in the night, at two o'clock, the day I was with you in the morning! Confess it was you!"
"Last week? In the night? Have you gone cracked, my good friend?"
Hippolyte paused and considered a moment. Then a smile of cunning--almost triumph--crossed his lips.
"It was you," he murmured, almost in a whisper, but with absolute conviction. "Yes, it was you who came to my room and sat silently on a chair at my window for a whole hour--more! It was between one and two at night; you rose and went out at about three. It was you, you! Why you should have frightened me so, why you should have wished to torment me like that, I cannot tell--but you it was."
There was absolute hatred in his eyes as he said this, but his look of fear and his trembling had not left him.
"You shall hear all this directly, gentlemen. I-I--listen!"
He seized his paper in a desperate hurry; he fidgeted with it, and tried to sort it, but for a long while his trembling hands could not collect the sheets together. "He's either mad or delirious," murmured Rogojin. At last he began.
For the first five minutes the reader's voice continued to tremble, and he read disconnectedly and unevenly; but gradually his voice strengthened. Occasionally a violent fit of coughing stopped him, but his animation grew with the progress of the reading--as did also the disagreeable impression which it made upon his audience,--until it reached the highest pitch of excitement.
Here is the article.
MY NECESSARY EXPLANATION.
"Apres moi le deluge.
"Yesterday morning the prince came to see me. Among other things he asked me to come down to his villa. I knew he would come and persuade me to this step, and that he would adduce the argument that it would be easier for me to die' among people and green trees,'--as he expressed it. But today he did not say 'die,' he said 'live.' It is pretty much the same to me, in my position, which he says. When I asked him why he made such a point of his 'green trees,' he told me, to my astonishment, that he had heard that last time I was in Pavlofsk I had said that I had come 'to have a last look at the trees.'
"When I observed that it was all the same whether one died among trees or in front of a blank brick wall, as here, and that it was not worth making any fuss over a fortnight, he agreed at once. But he insisted that the good air at Pavlofsk and the greenness would certainly cause a physical change for the better, and that my excitement, and my DREAMS, would be perhaps relieved. I remarked to him, with a smile, that he spoke like a materialist, and he answered that he had always been one. As he never tells a lie, there must be something in his words. His smile is a pleasant one. I have had a good look at him. I don't know whether I like him or not; and I have no time to waste over the question. The hatred which I felt for him for five months has become considerably modified, I may say, during the last month. Who knows, perhaps I am going to Pavlofsk on purpose to see him! But why do I leave my chamber? Those who are sentenced to death should not leave their cells. If I had not formed a final resolve, but had decided to wait until the last minute, I should not leave my room, or accept his invitation to come and die at Pavlofsk. I must be quick and finish this explanation before tomorrow. I shall have no time to read it over and correct it, for I must read it tomorrow to the prince and two or three witnesses whom I shall probably find there.
"As it will be absolutely true, without a touch of falsehood, I am curious to see what impression it will make upon me myself at the moment when I read it out. This is my 'last and solemn'--but why need I call it that? There is no question about the truth of it, for it is not worthwhile lying for a fortnight; a fortnight of life is not itself worth having, which is a proof that I write nothing here but pure truth.
("N.B.--Let me remember to consider; am I mad at this moment, or not? or rather at these moments? I have been told that consumptives sometimes do go out of their minds for a while in the last stages of the malady. I can prove this tomorrow when I read it out, by the impression it makes upon the audience. I must settle this question once and for all, otherwise I can't go on with anything.)
"I believe I have just written dreadful nonsense; but there's no time for correcting, as I said before. Besides that, I have made myself a promise not to alter a single word of what I write in this paper, even though I find that I am contradicting myself every five lines. I wish to verify the working of the natural logic of my ideas tomorrow during the reading--whether I am capable of detecting logical errors, and whether all that I have meditated over during the last six months be true, or nothing but delirium.
"If two months since I had been called upon to leave my room and the view of Meyer's wall opposite, I verily believe I should have been sorry. But now I have no such feeling, and yet I am leaving this room and Meyer's brick wall FOR EVER. So that my conclusion, that it is not worth while indulging in grief, or any other emotion, for a fortnight, has proved stronger than my very nature, and has taken over the direction of my feelings. But is it so? Is it the case that my nature is conquered entirely? If I were to be put on the rack now, I should certainly cry out. I should not say that it is not worth while to yell and feel pain because I have but a fortnight to live.
"But is it true that I have but a fortnight of life left to me? I know I told some of my friends that Doctor B. had informed me that this was the case; but I now confess that I lied; B. has not even seen me. However, a week ago, I called in a medical student, Kislorodoff, who is a Nationalist, an Atheist, and a Nihilist, by conviction, and that is why I had him. I needed a man who would tell me the bare truth without any humbug or ceremony--and so he did--indeed, almost with pleasure (which I thought was going a little too far).
"Well, he plumped out that I had about a month left me; it might be a little more, he said, under favourable circumstances, but it might also be considerably less. According to his opinion I might die quite suddenly--tomorrow, for instance--there had been such cases. Only a day or two since a young lady at Colomna who suffered from consumption, and was about on a par with myself in the march of the disease, was going out to market to buy provisions, when she suddenly felt faint, lay down on the sofa, gasped once, and died.
"Kislorodoff told me all this with a sort of exaggerated devil- may-care negligence, and as though he did me great honour by talking to me so, because it showed that he considered me the same sort of exalted Nihilistic being as himself, to whom death was a matter of no consequence whatever, either way.
"At all events, the fact remained--a month of life and no more! That he is right in his estimation I am absolutely persuaded.
"It puzzles me much to think how on earth the prince guessed yesterday that I have had bad dreams. He said to me, 'Your excitement and dreams will find relief at Pavlofsk.' Why did he say 'dreams'? Either he is a doctor, or else he is a man of exceptional intelligence and wonderful powers of observation. (But that he is an 'idiot,' at bottom there can be no doubt whatever.) It so happened that just before he arrived I had a delightful little dream; one of a kind that I have hundreds of just now. I had fallen asleep about an hour before he came in, and dreamed that I was in some room, not my own. It was a large room, well furnished, with a cupboard, chest of drawers, sofa, and my bed, a fine wide bed covered with a silken counterpane. But I observed in the room a dreadful-looking creature, a sort of monster. It was a little like a scorpion, but was not a scorpion, but far more horrible, and especially so, because there are no creatures anything like it in nature, and because it had appeared to me for a purpose, and bore some mysterious signification. I looked at the beast well; it was brown in colour and had a shell; it was a crawling kind of reptile, about eight inches long, and narrowed down from the head, which was about a couple of fingers in width, to the end of the tail, which came to a fine point. Out of its trunk, about a couple of inches below its head, came two legs at an angle of forty-five degrees, each about three inches long, so that the beast looked like a trident from above. It had eight hard needle-like whiskers coming out from different parts of its body; it went along like a snake, bending its body about in spite of the shell it wore, and its motion was very quick and very horrible to look at. I was dreadfully afraid it would sting me; somebody had told me, I thought, that it was venomous; but what tormented me most of all was the wondering and wondering as to who had sent it into my room, and what was the mystery which I felt it contained.
"It hid itself under the cupboard and under the chest of drawers, and crawled into the corners. I sat on a chair and kept my legs tucked under me. Then the beast crawled quietly across the room and disappeared somewhere near my chair. I looked about for it in terror, but I still hoped that as my feet were safely tucked away it would not be able to touch me.
"Then my mother opened the door and called my dog, Norma. Norma was a great Newfoundland, and died five years ago.
"She sprang forward and stood still in front of the reptile as if she had been turned to stone. The beast stopped too, but its tail and claws still moved about. I believe animals are incapable of feeling supernatural fright--if I have been rightly informed,--but at this moment there appeared to me to be something more than ordinary about Norma's terror, as though it must be supernatural; and as though she felt, just as I did myself, that this reptile was connected with some mysterious secret, some fatal omen.
"Norma backed slowly and carefully away from the brute, which followed her, creeping deliberately after her as though it intended to make a sudden dart and sting her.
"In spite of Norma's terror she looked furious, though she trembled in all her limbs. At length she slowly bared her terrible teeth, opened her great red jaws, hesitated--took courage, and seized the beast in her mouth. It seemed to try to dart out of her jaws twice, but Norma caught at it and half swallowed it as it was escaping. The shell cracked in her teeth; and the tail and legs stuck out of her mouth and shook about in a horrible manner. Suddenly Norma gave a piteous whine; the reptile had bitten her tongue. She opened her mouth wide with the pain, and I saw the beast lying across her tongue, and out of its body, which was almost bitten in two, came a hideous white-looking substance, oozing out into Norma's mouth; it was of the consistency of a crushed black-beetle. just then I awoke and the prince entered the room."
"Gentlemen!" said Hippolyte, breaking off here, "I have not done yet, but it seems to me that I have written down a great deal here that is unnecessary,--this dream--"
"You have indeed!" said Gania.
"There is too much about myself, I know, but--" As Hippolyte said this his face wore a tired, pained look, and he wiped the sweat off his brow.
"Yes," said Lebedeff, "you certainly think a great deal too much about yourself."
"Well--gentlemen--I do not force anyone to listen! If any of you are unwilling to sit it out, please go away, by all means!"
"He turns people out of a house that isn't his own," muttered Rogojin.
"Suppose we all go away?" said Ferdishenko suddenly.
Hippolyte clutched his manuscript, and gazing at the last speaker with glittering eyes, said: "You don't like me at all!" A few laughed at this, but not all.
"Hippolyte," said the prince, "give me the papers, and go to bed like a sensible fellow. We'll have a good talk tomorrow, but you really mustn't go on with this reading; it is not good for you!"
"How can I? How can I?" cried Hippolyte, looking at him in amazement. "Gentlemen! I was a fool! I won't break off again. Listen, everyone who wants to!"
He gulped down some water out of a glass standing near, bent over the table, in order to hide his face from the audience, and recommenced.
"The idea that it is not worth while living for a few weeks took possession of me a month ago, when I was told that I had four weeks to live, but only partially so at that time. The idea quite overmastered me three days since, that evening at Pavlofsk. The first time that I felt really impressed with this thought was on the terrace at the prince's, at the very moment when I had taken it into my head to make a last trial of life. I wanted to see people and trees (I believe I said so myself), I got excited, I maintained Burdovsky's rights, 'my neighbour!'--I dreamt that one and all would open their arms, and embrace me, that there would be an indescribable exchange of forgiveness between us all! In a word, I behaved like a fool, and then, at that very same instant, I felt my 'last conviction.' I ask myself now how I could have waited six months for that conviction! I knew that I had a disease that spares no one, and I really had no illusions; but the more I realized my condition, the more I clung to life; I wanted to live at any price. I confess I might well have resented that blind, deaf fate, which, with no apparent reason, seemed to have decided to crush me like a fly; but why did I not stop at resentment? Why did I begin to live, knowing that it was not worthwhile to begin? Why did I attempt to do what I knew to be an impossibility? And yet I could not even read a book to the end; I had given up reading. What is the good of reading, what is the good of learning anything, for just six months? That thought has made me throw aside a book more than once.
"Yes, that wall of Meyer's could tell a tale if it liked. There was no spot on its dirty surface that I did not know by heart. Accursed wall! and yet it is dearer to me than all the Pavlofsk trees!--That is--it WOULD be dearer if it were not all the same to me, now!
"I remember now with what hungry interest I began to watch the lives of other people--interest that I had never felt before! I used to wait for Colia's arrival impatiently, for I was so ill myself, then, that I could not leave the house. I so threw myself into every little detail of news, and took so much interest in every report and rumour, that I believe I became a regular gossip! I could not understand, among other things, how all these people--with so much life in and before them--do not become RICH-- and I don't understand it now. I remember being told of a poor wretch I once knew, who had died of hunger. I was almost beside myself with rage! I believe if I could have resuscitated him I would have done so for the sole purpose of murdering him!
"Occasionally I was so much better that I could go out; but the streets used to put me in such a rage that I would lock myself up for days rather than go out, even if I were well enough to do so! I could not bear to see all those preoccupied, anxious-looking creatures continuously surging along the streets past me! Why are they always anxious? What is the meaning of their eternal care and worry? It is their wickedness, their perpetual detestable malice--that's what it is--they are all full of malice, malice!
"Whose fault is it that they are all miserable, that they don't know how to live, though they have fifty or sixty years of life before them? Why did that fool allow himself to die of hunger with sixty years of unlived life before him?
"And everyone of them shows his rags, his toil-worn hands, and yells in his wrath: 'Here are we, working like cattle all our lives, and always as hungry as dogs, and there are others who do not work, and are fat and rich!' The eternal refrain! And side by side with them trots along some wretched fellow who has known better days, doing light porter's work from morn to night for a living, always blubbering and saying that 'his wife died because he had no money to buy medicine with,' and his children dying of cold and hunger, and his eldest daughter gone to the bad, and so on. Oh! I have no pity and no patience for these fools of people. Why can't they be Rothschilds? Whose fault is it that a man has not got millions of money like Rothschild? If he has life, all this must be in his power! Whose fault is it that he does not know how to live his life?
"Oh! it's all the same to me now--NOW! But at that time I would soak my pillow at night with tears of mortification, and tear at my blanket in my rage and fury. Oh, how I longed at that time to be turned out--ME, eighteen years old, poor, half-clothed, turned out into the street, quite alone, without lodging, without work, without a crust of bread, without relations, without a single acquaintance, in some large town--hungry, beaten (if you like), but in good health--and THEN I would show them--
"What would I show them?
"Oh, don't think that I have no sense of my own humiliation! I have suffered already in reading so far. Which of you all does not think me a fool at this moment--a young fool who knows nothing of life--forgetting that to live as I have lived these last six months is to live longer than grey-haired old men. Well, let them laugh, and say it is all nonsense, if they please. They may say it is all fairy-tales, if they like; and I have spent whole nights telling myself fairy-tales. I remember them all. But how can I tell fairy-tales now? The time for them is over. They amused me when I found that there was not even time for me to learn the Greek grammar, as I wanted to do. 'I shall die before I get to the syntax,' I thought at the first page--and threw the book under the table. It is there still, for I forbade anyone to pick it up.
"If this 'Explanation' gets into anybody's hands, and they have patience to read it through, they may consider me a madman, or a schoolboy, or, more likely, a man condemned to die, who thought it only natural to conclude that all men, excepting himself, esteem life far too lightly, live it far too carelessly and lazily, and are, therefore, one and all, unworthy of it. Well, I affirm that my reader is wrong again, for my convictions have nothing to do with my sentence of death. Ask them, ask any one of them, or all of them, what they mean by happiness! Oh, you may be perfectly sure that if Columbus was happy, it was not after he had discovered America, but when he was discovering it! You may be quite sure that he reached the culminating point of his happiness three days before he saw the New World with his actual eves, when his mutinous sailors wanted to tack about, and return to Europe! What did the New World matter after all? Columbus had hardly seen it when he died, and in reality he was entirely ignorant of what he had discovered. The important thing is life-- life and nothing else! What is any 'discovery' whatever compared with the incessant, eternal discovery of life?
"But what is the use of talking? I'm afraid all this is so commonplace that my confession will be taken for a schoolboy exercise--the work of some ambitious lad writing in the hope of his work 'seeing the light'; or perhaps my readers will say that 'I had perhaps something to say, but did not know how to express it.'
"Let me add to this that in every idea emanating from genius, or even in every serious human idea--born in the human brain--there always remains something--some sediment--which cannot be expressed to others, though one wrote volumes and lectured upon it for five-and-thirty years. There is always a something, a remnant, which will never come out from your brain, but will remain there with you, and you alone, for ever and ever, and you will die, perhaps, without having imparted what may be the very essence of your idea to a single living soul.
"So that if I cannot now impart all that has tormented me for the last six months, at all events you will understand that, having reached my 'last convictions,' I must have paid a very dear price for them. That is what I wished, for reasons of my own, to make a point of in this my 'Explanation.'
"But let me resume.
列别杰夫的长篇大论将近尾声时在沙发上睡着的伊波利特现在忽然醒来了，就像有人推了一下他的腰部，他颤动了一下，抬起身，扫视四周，脸色一下子变得刷白；他甚至有点惊惧地环顾着周围；当他想起一切并且弄明白是怎么回事的时候，他的脸上几乎流露出惊恐的神色。
“怎么，他们都要走了？结束了？一切都结束了？太阳出来了？”他抓住公爵的手，惊慌不安地问，“几点钟了？看在上帝份上：几点了？我睡过头了。我睡很久了吗？”他几乎带着绝望的神情补充问着，仿佛他睡过了头，耽搁了什么至少是决定他整个命运的大事。
“您睡了七八分钟，”叶甫盖尼·帕夫洛维奇回答说。
伊波利特贪婪地望了他一下，考虑了片刻。
“啊……只有七八分钟，这么说，我……”
他深深地贪婪地换了口气，仿佛要卸去自己身上异常沉重的负担。最后他悟到，什么都还“没有结束”，还没有天亮，客人们从桌边站起来只是为了小吃，结束的只不过是列别杰夫的一派胡言。他桀然一笑，脸颊上鲜明地显露出两团肺痨患者的红晕。
“我睡着几分钟您都计算了，叶甫盖尼·帕夫洛维奇，”他嘲讽地接过话荐说，“整个晚上您的目光就没有离开过我，我看见的……啊！罗戈任！我刚才在梦里见到他了，”他皱了下收眉，点头表示着坐在桌旁的罗戈任，低声对公爵说。”“啊，对了，”他突然又转换了活题，“演说家在哪里？列别杰大在哪里，这么说，列别杰夫讲完了？他讲了些什么？公爵，有一次您说过，‘美，能拯救世界’，是这样吗？诸位，”他向大家大声喊了起来，“公爵确信．美能拯救世界！而我确信，他之所以有这样洒脱的思想，是因为他现在在恋爱。诸位，公爵在恋爱；刚才，他一走进来，我就确信这一点。别脸红，公爵，我将会可怜您的。什么样的美能拯救世界？科利亚向我转述了这点……您是个虔诚的基督教徒吗？科利亚说，您自称是基督教徒。”
公爵注意地端详着他，没有回答。
“您不回答我？您大概以为我很喜欢您吧？”伊波利特像是撕下了脸皮，突然补了一句。
“不，我没这样想。我知道，您不喜欢我。”
“什么？甚至在昨天的事后也这样想？昨天我对您是真诚的吧？”
“就是昨天我也知道，您不喜欢我。”
“也就是说，是因为我羡慕您，嫉妒您？您总是这样想，而且现在还这么想，但是……但是我又何必告诉您这一点呢？我还想喝一点香槟；凯勒尔，给我倒上。”
“您不能再喝了，伊波利特，我不给您……”
公爵从他身边移开了酒杯。
“这倒是真的……”他似乎若有所思地立即就同意道，“也许有人还会说……他们说什么关我屁事！不是吗，不是吗？让他们以后去说吧，公爵，是吗？再说以后会怎样跟我们大家有什么相于！……不过，我还没有睡醒，我做了个多么可怕的梦呀，现在才想起来……但愿你不做这样的梦，公爵，虽然我也许确实不喜欢您。其实，即使不喜欢一个人，又何必一定希望他不好呢，不是吗？干吗老是在间我，老是我在间！把您的手给我；我要紧紧握住它，就像这样……不过，您会把手伸给我吗？这么说，您知道，我是真心诚意要握您的手吗？……看来我不能再喝了，几点钟了？其实，不用问，我知道是几点钟。时候到了！现在正是时候。这是干什么，那边角落里在摆小吃吗？这么说，这张桌子是空的吗？好极了！诸位，我……可是所有这些先生们都不在听……我打算念一篇文章，公爵；小吃当然更有意思，但是……”
突然，完全出人意料地，他从自己上衣侧袋中掏出一个公文袋大小的大纸袋，上面还盖着大大的红印章。他把它放在面前桌上。
这一意外的举动在对此没有思想准备，或者最好说，在有思想准备、可不是对此有思想准备的这一群人中产生了强烈的效果。叶甫益尼·帕夫洛维奇甚至在自己的座位上跳了起来；加尼亚迅速走近桌旁；罗戈任也是，但带着一种不满的烦恼，他仿佛明白是怎么一回事。凑巧就在近旁的列别杰夫睁大一双好奇的眼睛走近去看那纸袋，竭力想猜透是怎么回事。
“您这是什么东西？”公爵不安地问。
“太阳一露边，我就躺下，公爵，我说过的；我保证，您瞧着吧！”伊波利特大声嚷道，“但是……但是……难道您认为，我不能拆开这包东西吗。”他补充说着，一边用一种挑衅的神情扫视着周围所有的人，同时又仿佛漫不经心地对大家说。公爵发觉，他浑身都在打颤。
“我们谁也没有这样想，”公爵替大家回答，“再说，为什么您认为，有人会有这样的想法？您要念文章，这算什么怪念头？您这里是什么，伊波利特？”
“这里是什么？他又发生什么不寻常的事了？”周围的人问道。
大家都走拢来，有的人还边吃着东西；红印封口的纸袋像磁铁一般吸引着大家。
“这是昨天我自己写的，就在我向您保证要注到您这儿来后立即写的，公爵。我昨天写了一整天，接着又写了一夜，今天早晨才写完；夜里，临到凌晨时，我还做了个梦……”
“明天念不更好吗？”公爵畏怯地打断说。
“明天就‘不再有时间了！”伊波利特歇斯底里地冷笑了一下，“不过别操心，我在４０分钟内读完，嗯……１小时吧……您看见了，大家多么感兴趣；大家都走拢来了；大家都在望着我的印记；要是我不把文章封在纸袋里就不会有任何效果！哈－哈！这就是秘密性意味着什么；诸位，拆还是不拆？他喊着，一边发出奇怪的笑声，眼睛闪闪发亮。“秘密！秘密！记得吗，公爵，是谁宣布‘不再有时间’的？是《启示录》中一位伟大和强大的天使说的。”
“最好别念了！”突然叶甫盖尼·帕夫洛维奇大声嚷了起来，但是他身上有一种意想不到的不安神情，这使许多人感到奇怪。
“别念吧！”公爵把手放到纸袋上嚷道。
“读什么呀？现在该吃东西，”有人指出。
“文章？要投杂志还是怎么的？”另一个人探问着。
“也许，很乏味。”又一位添了一句。
“到底是怎么一回事。”其余的人探询着。但是公爵那吓人的动作真的将伊波利特本人也吓住了。
“这么说……不念？”他有点担心地向公爵低语道，在发青的嘴唇上带着尴尬的微笑。“不念吗？”他喃喃着，一边用目光扫视着所有在场的人、所有的脸和所有的眼睛，仿佛又带着过去那种像要攻击一切人的好斗架势盯着大家不放。“您……害怕了？”他又转身问公爵。
“怕什么？”公爵问道，脸色变得越来越难看。
“谁有两毛钱币，２０戈比的？”突然伊波利特从椅子上跳起身，就像有人猛地把他拽下来似的，“随便什么硬币？”
“哈！”列别杰夫马上递了给他；他闪过一个念头，有病的伊波利特精神不正常。
“维拉·鲁基扬诺夫娜！”伊波利特急促地邀请说，“来拿着，将它抛到桌子上，看是正面还是反面朝上？正面朝上，就念。”
维拉惊惧地望了一眼硬币，又望了一眼伊波利特，然后还望了一下父亲。她似乎确信她自己不应该看硬币，因此朝上昂起头，有点不好意思地把硬币丢在桌上。掉下来的是正面朝上。
“念！”伊波利特喃喃说，似乎命运作出的决定把他压倒了；即使是向他宣读死刑判决，他的脸色也不会变得更苍白。“不过，”沉默了半分钟后他突然打了个颤，说“这是怎么回事？难道我刚才抛了签。”他还是带着那种死乞白赖、毫无顾忌的目光打量着周围所有的人，“但是，这可是一种令人惊奇的心理特征！”他转向公爵，真正惊讶地突然大声嚷了起来，“这是……这是不可思议的一种特征，公爵。”他重复着说，精神振奋而且似乎镇静了下来。“您把它记下来，公爵，记住它，您不是正在搜集有关死刑的材料吗，……人家对我说的！哈－哈！啊，天哪，这是多么糊涂的荒唐之举呀！”他坐到沙发上，两个手肘撵在桌上，双手抱着自己的脑袋，“这可甚至是羞耻：……但是羞耻关我屁事，”他几乎立即就抬起头，“诸位！诸位，我来启封，”他带着一种突如其来的决心宣布着，“我……不过，我不强迫你们听！……”
他用激动得了抖的双手拆开了纸袋，从里面抽出几张信纸，上面密密麻麻写满了字，将它们放到自己面前，开始把它们展平。
“这是什么？这是怎么回事，要念什么？”一些人阴郁地嘟哝着，另一些人沉默着。但是大家都安坐下来了，好奇地望着。也许，他们确实是在等待着什么异乎寻常的事情。维拉抓住父亲坐的椅子，吓得差点要哭了；科利亚几乎也一样惊惧。已经坐好的列别杰夫突然欠起身，抓住烛台，把它侈近伊波利特，让他读起来光线亮些……
“诸位，这……你们马上就会看到这是什么东西，”伊波利特不知为什么添上这句话，突然就开始念起来：“《必要的解释》！题头是《Ａｐｒｅｓ ｍｏｉ ｌｅｄｅｌｕｇｅ》＊……呸，真见鬼。”他像被烫了似的大声喊着，“难道我真的会写上这样愚蠢的题头？……听着，诸位！……我要你们相信，所有这一切说到底也许都是最不值一提的！这仅仅是我的一些想法……如果你们认为，这里面……有什么秘密的或者……被禁的内容……总之……”
“念吧，不用开场白，”加尼亚打断说。
“真够绕来绕去的！”
“废话真多。”一直保持沉默的罗戈任插了一句。
伊波利特忽然看了他一眼，当他们的目光相遇时，罗戈任痛苦而又恼恨地咧嘴一笑，缓慢地说了一句奇怪的话：
“小伙子，这种事不应该这么干，不这么干的……”
罗戈任想说什么，当然谁也不明白，但是他的这句话却使大家产生了相当奇怪的印象；有一个共同的想法模糊地掠过了每个人的头脑。这句话对伊波利特可产生了可怕的影响：他颤粟得厉害，以致公爵想伸出手来扶住他，要不是他的嗓子突然明显地失了音，他一定会大声喊出来的。整整１分钟他说不出一句话来，只是沉重地喘息着，一直望着罗戈任。终于，他边喘着气，边异常费劲地说：
“那么是您……您曾经……您？”
“曾经怎么啦？我怎么啦？”罗戈任困惑不解地回答着，但是伊波利特怒气勃发，近乎疯狂（它突然主宰了他的心态），尖厉和有力地喊了起来：
“您上个星期曾经到过我那里，是夜里１点多，就是上午我到您那里去的那一天，是您得承认吧，是不是您？”
“上个星期，夜里？你别真的疯了，小伙子？”
“小伙子”又沉默了１分钟，食指点在额头上，仿佛是要想想清楚；但是在他苍白的脸仍然挂着因恐惧而显得尴尬的微笑，这微笑中突然闪过某种似乎是狡猾的、甚至是洋洋得意的神情。
“这是您！”最后他重复说，几乎是喃喃低语，但是异常确信，“您到我这儿来，默默地坐在我窗口的椅子上，整整有１小时，甚至更长；在半夜零点多和１点多的时候；后来在两点多钟时您站起身走了……这是您，是您！为什么您要吓唬我，为什么您要来折磨我，－－我不明白，但这是您！”
＊法语：我死后纵然洪水泛滥。
他的目光中突然闪过无限的憎恨，尽管他身上一直没有停止因恐惧而产生的颤栗。
“诸位，你们马上就将知道这一切，我……我……听着吧。”
他又非常急促地抓起那几张纸；它们散乱着，他竭力把它们归到一起；纸在他颤抖的手中抖动着；他好久都不能安定下来。
终于开始了念读。起先有５分钟光景，出人意料的文章作者还喘息不止念得既不连贯也不平稳；但后他的声音就坚定起来，完全能表达所念的内容了，只是有时候十分强烈的咳嗽中断了朗读；文章念到一半他的声音沙得很厉害；他越是念下去，异常的亢奋就越来越强烈地控制着他，最后达到了最高的程度，就像给听众留下的病态印象一样。下面就是这篇“文章”的全文
我的必要的解释
Apresmiie deluge!
昨天上午公爵到我这儿来；顺便说，他劝我撇到他的别墅去住。我就知道，他一定会坚持这一点的，我深信，他会直截了当地贸然向我说，我在别墅会“在人们和树木中比较轻松地死去”，这是他的说法。但是今天他没有说到死，而说了“将会比较轻松地生活”，但是，处于我这种状况，对于我来说几乎是一样的。我问他他这么不停地提到“树木”暗指着什么，为什么他要把这些 “树木”强加给我？我惊讶地从他那儿获悉，那天晚上我自己仿佛曾这样表示过，说来到帕夫洛夫斯克是要最后一次看看树木。当时我向他指出，在树木底下也罢，望着窗外我的砖墙也罢，反正一样死去，为了两个星期不必这么客气，他立即就同意了；但是，他认为，绿荫和纯净的空气一定会在我身上引起某种生理上的变化，我的容易激动，我的容易做梦也都会改变，也许，会有所缓和。我又笑着向他指出，他说话像个唯物主义者。他微笑着回答我，他一直是个唯物主义者。因为他从来也不撒谎，所以这话是有一定道理的。他的微笑很动人；我现在看他看得比较仔细。我不知道，我现在喜欢他还是不喜欢他；现在我没时问顾得上考虑这一点。应该指出，五个月来我对他的憎恨在最近这一个月里完全平息了。谁知道，也许，我到帕夫洛夫斯克来，主要是为了见到他。但是……为什么当时我要离开我的房间呢？注定要死的人是不应该离开自己的角落的；假若我现在不做出最后的决定，我就会做相反的决定，一直等到最后时刻降临，那么，当然，无论如何也不会离开我的房间，也就不会接受搬到帕夫洛夫斯克他这儿来“死”的建议了。
我一定得在明天以前赶紧写完这篇“解释”。看来，我没有时间重看一遍和进行修改；明天为公爵和两三个见证人（我打算在他那儿找）念时再重看，因为这里没有一句谎言，纯粹全是真话，最后的、郑重的真话，所以我事先就感到很好奇，当我重读这篇“解释”时，在彼时彼刻它会对我自己产生付么样的印象？其实，我写上“最后的、郑重的真话”是多余的：为了两个星期本来就不值得撒谎，因为活两个星期是不值得的；这是我纯粹写真话的最好的证明。（注意，别忘了这样的想法：此刻，也就是说这时候我是不是疯了？有人很肯定地对我说，后期肺痨病人有时候会短暂性情神失常。明天念这篇“解释”时根据听众的印象来检验这一点。这个问题一定要完全确凿地解决：否则什么都无从着手做。
我觉得，我刚才写的是些愚不可及的蠢话，但是我说过了，我没有时问重新修改；除此之外，我对自己立下誓言，故意不修改这份手稿上的任一错字，甚至假如我自己发现每过五行就自相矛盾，也不以修改。我正是想在明天念它的时候来确定一下，我的逻辑思路是否正确；我是否能发现自己的错误，回而也就能检验这六个月里我在这个房间里反复思考的一切是否正确，还是纯粹是一片梦呓。
假如两个月前我就得像现在这样完全离开我的房间，告别梅那罗夫大楼的砖墙，那么我深信，我是会很忧伤的。现在我却没有感到什么，而到明天我就要离开房间，离开这堵墙了，而且永远离开！看来，为了两个星期已经不值得怜惜或者不值得沉缅于某种感受，这种信念已经战胜了我的天性，而且现在已经能主宰我的所有情感，但是真是这样吗？我的天性现在真的全被征服了吗？如果现在来拷打我，我一定会喊叫起来而不会说，因为只有两个星期好活，已经不值得喊叫和感觉疼痛了。
但是，我只能活两个星期，不会活更长时间，这是真的吗？当时在帕夫洛夫斯克我说了谎：ｂ先生什么都没对我说，也从来没有见过我，但是一星期前有人把一位大学生基斯洛罗多夫带到我这儿来；按信念来说他是个唯物主义者，无神论者和虚无主义者，这正是为什么我要叫他来的缘故；我需要有个人最终对我说出赤裸裸的真话，不要说委婉话，也不用说客气话。他就这样做了，不仅同意并且不讲客套，甚至显然还很乐意（依我看，这就已是多余的了）。他直截了当开口就说，我还能活一个月左右；如果有好的条件，也许还能多活些日子，但是，也可能早死得多。照他的意见，我可能会突然死去，甚至，比方说，就在明天常有这样的事，就在前天科洛姆纳的一位患肺痨、情况和我相似的年轻女士打算去市场买些食品，但突然感到不舒服，躺到沙发上，叹了一口气就死了。基斯洛罗多夫告诉我这一切时甚至带着一丝炫耀自己的无动于衷和漫不经心的样子，仿佛这样是我的荣誉，也就是以此表示，他把我也看做是与他一样的否定一切的高等生物，对他来说，死当然是不值一提的事。说到底终究是明摆着的事实：还能活一个月，绝不会更多！我完全相信，他没有弄错。
使我非常惊讶的是，为什么刚才公爵会猜到我常做恶梦、他确实说过，在帕夫洛夫斯克“我的激动和梦境”都会改变。为什么说到梦境呢？他要不是医生，要不就真的是个具有非凡智力的人，能料事如神。（但是他到底是个“白痴”，这一点是没有丝毫怀疑的。）好像故意似的，就在他来到之前我做了一个好梦（不时，那也是我现在所做的几百个梦中的一个）。我睡着了（我想，是在他来前一小时），梦见我在一个房间里（但不是我的房间）。房间比我原来的要大，要高，很明亮，家具也比较好，有大衣柜，五斗柜，沙发，我的床又宽又大，铺着绿色缎面的缎被。但是在这个房间里我发现有一只可怕的动物，不知是什久怪物。它有点儿像蝎子，但不是蝎子，而更丑恶，好像正是因为大自然里没有这样的动物而可怕得多，它故意出现在我的房间里，就这一点似乎包含着某种秘密。我对它看得清楚：它是褐色带硬亮的爬虫，长约四寸，头部有两指粗，向尾部渐渐变细，因此尾巴未端不超过十分之一寸粗。在离头部一寸的地方，从躯干上成四十五度角长出两只爪子，一面一只，两寸长左右，因而从上面看的话，整只动物就是呈三叉栽状。我没有细看他的头，但看见有两根触须，不太长，状如两根硬针，也是褐色的。在尾巴尖上和每一只爪于尖上都有这样的两根触须，这样，总共是八根触须。这动物在房间里跑起来很快，就靠爪子和尾巴作支撑，跑的时候，身体和爪子像蛇一样扭动，尽管有硬壳，跑得却异常快，这样子看起来非常恶心。我害怕得不得了，怕它螫我；有八对我说，这东西有毒，但最使我感到不安的是，谁把它放到我的房间里来的，想对我干什么，这里有什么秘密？它躲到五斗柜下面，大衣橱下面，爬到角落里。我连腿一起坐到椅子上面，把腿盘在身体下面。它很快地斜穿过整个房间，在我的椅子附近消失了。我恐惧地四处察看，但因为是盘腿而坐，因此指望它不会爬到椅子上来。突然我听见在我背后，儿子就在我脑袋旁边，有一种咯吱咯吱的声音；我转过身去看见，这家伙正顺着墙壁在爬，并已经爬到齐我头高的位置，那不停旋转和扭动的尾巴甚至触及我的头发。我跳了起来，这动物也就不见了。我怕躺到床上去，求它别钻到我枕头底下。我母亲和她的一位熟人来到了我房间。他们开始捉这坏东西，但他们比我镇静，甚至不害怕。但他们什么也不懂。突然这坏家伙又爬出来了；它这次爬得很安稳，仿佛有什么特别的意图似的，缓慢地扭动着，这更加令人厌恶，它又斜穿过房间，朝门口爬去。这时我母亲打开了门，唤了一声诺尔马，这是我家的一条狗，是一条黑色长毛纽芬兰犬，五年前已经死了。它奔到房间里，一动不动地站在那坏东西上方。那家伙也停住了，但仍然扭动着，爪子和尾巴端不停地在地上发出咯吱咯吱的声响。如果我没弄错的话，动物是不会感到神秘和恐惧的；但是此刻我觉得，诺尔马的恐惧中不知怎么的仿佛有某种十分不同寻常的，也仿佛有几乎是神秘的东西，它看来也像我一样预感到，在这恶物身上有某种不祥的东西和某种秘密。诺尔马在悄悄地、小心翼翼地朝它爬来的坏东西面前慢慢地后移着；而这恶物好像想突然朝它扑去，发动突然袭击。但是尽管十分惊惧，尽管浑身打颤，诺尔马还是十分凶狠地看着它。突然它慢慢地呲出自己可怕的牙齿，张开自己的血盆大口，摆好姿势，灵巧应战，打定主意，突然用牙齿咬住了这坏东西。想必是这东西用力挣脱了，企图溜走，因而诺尔马又一次急忙把它逮住，两次张开大嘴把这东西送进口中，仍然是急急忙忙地，像是吞食它。硬壳在其牙齿问发生咯咯的碎裂声；露在嘴外的动物尾巴和爪子以快得惊人的速度动弹着。突然诺尔马发出一声悲苦的尖叫声：这恶物终究得逞螫了它的舌头。诺尔马一边尖叫和哀号，一边痛得张大了嘴，我看见，被咬碎了的恶物横在它嘴中还在动弹，它从自己一半已被咬碎的躯体里放出许多白色的毒汁在狗的舌头上，这白色的毒汁就像被压死的黑蟑螂的液汁……这时我醒来了，公爵也走讲来了。
“诸位，”伊波利特突然中断朗读，甚至感到羞愧地说，“我没有重读一遍，但好像我确实写了许多多余的东西。这个梦……”
“有一点儿，”加尼亚急忙插了一句。
“这里面个人的东西大多了、我承认，也就是有关我自己的……”说这话时，伊波利特的样子非常疲劳和衰弱，他用手帕擦去额上的汗珠，“是啊，您对自己太感兴趣了，”列别杰夫低声嘟哝说。
“诸位，我不强迫任何人，我再说一遍；谁不想听，谁可以走开。”
“在别人家里……赶人走，”罗戈任勉强可闻地埋怨着。
“要是我们大家一下子都站起来走了，怎么样？”突然费尔迪先科说。不过，到目前为止他都未敢说一句话。
伊波利特突然垂下眼睛，抓起手稿；但在同１秒钟他又抬起了头，眼睛闪亮着，脸上两团红晕，直勾勾盯着费尔迪先科说：
“您根本不喜欢我！”
响起了一片笑声；不过大部分人没有笑。伊波利特脸红得不得了。
“伊波利特，”公爵说，“合上您的手稿，把它交给我，而灯自己就在这里，在我房间里睡。睡觉前和明天我们再谈；但是无论如何，都别打开这些纸，愿意吗？”
“这难道可能吗。”伊波利特大为惊讶地望着公爵说。“诸位！”他喊了一声，又狂热地兴奋起来，“真是个笨拙的插曲，我举止不当。我不会再中断朗读了。谁想听，就听吧……”
他尽快地从茶杯里吞了一口水，尽快地把臂肘撑在桌子上，躲开别人的目光，固执地开始继续念下去。不过，羞愧很快就过去了……
不值得再活几个星期的想法（他继续念着）真正控制我，我想，约在一个月前，当时我还有四个星期可活，但是完全控制我是在三天以前，从帕夫洛夫斯克回来那天晚上起。这个念头完全、直接深入我心灵的最初那一瞬间是在公爵的露台上，正是我忽然想要做最后一次人生的尝试的那一会儿，我想看看人们和树木（就算这话是我自己说的），我情绪激动，坚持布尔多夫斯基--“我的亲近的朋友”有权利，我还幻想着他们大家会突然张开手臂，把我拥在怀里，请求我的宽恕，而我也请求他们的宽恕；总之，结果我成了个无能的傻瓜。就是在这个候我心里冒出了“最后的信念”。现在我感到很惊奇，没有这个“信念”时那整整六个月我是怎么过来的：我完全知道，我有肺病，而且已经治不好了；我不欺骗自己，清楚地明白真实情况。但是我越是清楚地了解实情，就越是拼命想活；我紧紧抓住生命，无论如何也想活下去，我承认，我当时也曾怨恨黑暗渺茫，冷寞无情的命运要把我像一只苍蝇一般压死，当然我不知道为什么；但是为什么我不就怀着怨恨而结束生命？为什么明明知道我已经不能开始生活，还真的开始了生活？为什么明明知道我已经没什么可尝试了，却还要尝试？其实我连一本书也不能看完，因此就不再看到了；看书干什么？还有六个月，知道了知识有什么用？这个念头迫使我不止一次撇下书本。
是的，这垛梅那罗夫墙可以说明许多情况！我在这上面记下了许多事情，在这垛肮脏的墙壁上没有一个斑点我会不熟悉。真是一垛可沮咒的墙！但对我来说它依然比所有帕夫洛夫斯克的树木都更宝贵，也就是说，如果我现在不是什么都无所谓的话，它应该比所有的人更宝贵。
我现在想起来，当时我是带着多么贪婪的兴趣注视看他们的生活；这样的兴趣过去是未曾有过的。在我病得不能走出房间的时候，有时候会迫不及待地骂着人等科利亚来，我深切地关注所有的小事，对各种各样的传闻满怀着兴趣，好像成了个搬弄是非的人，比如说，我不明白，这些人有着如此旺盛的生命力，怎么不会成为富翁（不过，就是现在也不明白）。我认识一个穷人，后来人家告诉我，他饿死了，我现在还记得，这使我怒不可遏：假如可以使这个穷人复活，我大概会处死他的。有时候有好几个星期我觉得轻松些，我能走到衙上去；但是街道最终又使我产生憎恶，因此整天整天故意闭门果在家里，虽燃我能像大家一样走到外面去。我无法容忍我身旁在人行道上走着的人，他们窜来钻去，忙忙碌碌，永远忧心忡忡，愁眉苦脸，惶惶不安。干什么他们永远悲伤，永远忧虑，永远忙碌；干什么他们永远抑郁寡欢，充满恼恨（因为他们凶狠、凶狠、凶狠）？虽然他们有６０年的生命，他们却不幸和不会生活，这是谁之罪？为什么扎尔尼岑还有６０年生命，却要让自己饿死？每个人都指着自己的破衣服，伸出自己做工的手，恶狠狠地高喊着；“我们像牛马一般不辞劳苦地干活，我们劳动，我们却像狗一样忍饥挨饿，受苦受穷：别人既不干活也不劳动，他们却生活富裕”（永恒的老调！）在他们旁过从早到晚奔走忙碌的还有一个“出身贵族”的不幸的可怜虫伊万·福米奇·苏科夫。他就住我们那幢房子里，住我们楼上。他永远穿着肘部磨破、掉了钮扣的衣服，他为各种各样的人跑腿当差，听命于人家的差遣委派，而且是从早到晚。您要是跟他聊天，他便会说：“贫穷、困苦、一贫如洗，妻子死了，没有钱买药，冬天冻死了一个孩子；大女儿让人养了当姘妇……”他永远诉苦，永远哭泣！哦，我对这些傻瓜无论现在还是过去都没丝毫怜悯，没有丝毫，--我可以骄傲地这么说：为什么他自己不是罗特希尔德？他不像罗特希尔招那样有百万家财，没有堆积如山的帝俄金币和拿破仑金币，没有像谢肉节货摊上堆起的吃食那样堆积如山、堆得像座高山的金币，是谁之罪呢？既然他活着，这就是说，一切都在他的掌握之中，他不懂这一点，又怪谁呢？
哦，我现在已经无所谓了，现在我已经没有时间来发火了，但当时，我再说一遍，当时我却因为气得发狂确实在夜间咬我的枕头，撕我的被子，哦，当时我多么想，多么愿意，多么故意希望有人把我，一个１８岁的青年，几乎衣不蔽体地突然赶到街上，并且撇下我孤零零一个人，没有住所，没有工作，没有一片面包，在这么大一个城无亲无故，饥肠辊辆，又挨了一顿打（这样更好！），但是身体健康，这种情况下我要显示……
显示什么？
哦，难道你们以为我不知道，就我这篇《解释》已经够伤害自己的自尊心了！嘿，现在谁不把我当作一个不懂生活的可怜虫，忘了自己已不是１８岁，忘了像我这六个月这样生活等于已经是活到白头了！但是让人家去笑话，去说这一切是童话吧。我真的是在给自己讲重话。我用它们来填满我那些通彻不眠的漫漫长夜；我现在还全都记得起来。
但是，难道现在我又来讲这些故事？现在对我来说也已经过了讲童姑故事的时期。再说讲给谁听呢？要知道当时我是用这些故事来自寻安慰的，那时我清楚地看到，连希腊语语法都禁止我学，恰好我也忽然想到：“还没等学到句法，我就会死了”，我从学第一页起就这么想，于是就把书本仍到桌于底下去了。它现在还被弃置在那儿