A WEEK had elapsed since the rendezvous of our two friends on the green bench in the park, when, one fine morning at about half- past ten o'clock, Varvara Ardalionovna, otherwise Mrs. Ptitsin, who had been out to visit a friend, returned home in a state of considerable mental depression.
There are certain people of whom it is difficult to say anything which will at once throw them into relief--in other words, describe them graphically in their typical characteristics. These are they who are generally known as "commonplace people," and this class comprises, of course, the immense majority of mankind. Authors, as a rule, attempt to select and portray types rarely met with in their entirety, but these types are nevertheless more real than real life itself.
"Podkoleosin" [A character in Gogol's comedy, The Wedding.] was perhaps an exaggeration, but he was by no means a non-existent character; on the contrary, how many intelligent people, after hearing of this Podkoleosin from Gogol, immediately began to find that scores of their friends were exactly like him! They knew, perhaps, before Gogol told them, that their friends were like Podkoleosin, but they did not know what name to give them. In real life, young fellows seldom jump out of the window just before their weddings, because such a feat, not to speak of its other aspects, must be a decidedly unpleasant mode of escape; and yet there are plenty of bridegrooms, intelligent fellows too, who would be ready to confess themselves Podkoleosins in the depths of their consciousness, just before marriage. Nor does every husband feel bound to repeat at every step, "Tu l'as voulu, Georges Dandin!" like another typical personage; and yet how many millions and billions of Georges Dandins there are in real life who feel inclined to utter this soul-drawn cry after their honeymoon, if not the day after the wedding! Therefore, without entering into any more serious examination of the question, I will content myself with remarking that in real life typical characters are "watered down," so to speak; and all these Dandins and Podkoleosins actually exist among us every day, but in a diluted form. I will just add, however, that Georges Dandin might have existed exactly as Moliere presented him, and probably does exist now and then, though rarely; and so I will end this scientific examination, which is beginning to look like a newspaper criticism. But for all this, the question remains,-- what are the novelists to do with commonplace people, and how are they to be presented to the reader in such a form as to be in the least degree interesting? They cannot be left out altogether, for commonplace people meet one at every turn of life, and to leave them out would be to destroy the whole reality and probability of the story. To fill a novel with typical characters only, or with merely strange and uncommon people, would render the book unreal and improbable, and would very likely destroy the interest. In my opinion, the duty of the novelist is to seek out points of interest and instruction even in the characters of commonplace people.
For instance, when the whole essence of an ordinary person's nature lies in his perpetual and unchangeable commonplaceness; and when in spite of all his endeavours to do something out of the common, this person ends, eventually, by remaining in his unbroken line of routine--. I think such an individual really does become a type of his own--a type of commonplaceness which will not for the world, if it can help it, be contented, but strains and yearns to be something original and independent, without the slightest possibility of being so. To this class of commonplace people belong several characters in this novel;-- characters which--I admit--I have not drawn very vividly up to now for my reader's benefit.
Such were, for instance, Varvara Ardalionovna Ptitsin, her husband, and her brother, Gania.
There is nothing so annoying as to be fairly rich, of a fairly good family, pleasing presence, average education, to be "not stupid," kind-hearted, and yet to have no talent at all, no originality, not a single idea of one's own--to be, in fact, "just like everyone else."
Of such people there are countless numbers in this world--far more even than appear. They can be divided into two classes as all men can--that is, those of limited intellect, and those who are much cleverer. The former of these classes is the happier.
To a commonplace man of limited intellect, for instance, nothing is simpler than to imagine himself an original character, and to revel in that belief without the slightest misgiving.
Many of our young women have thought fit to cut their hair short, put on blue spectacles, and call themselves Nihilists. By doing this they have been able to persuade themselves, without further trouble, that they have acquired new convictions of their own. Some men have but felt some little qualm of kindness towards their fellow-men, and the fact has been quite enough to persuade them that they stand alone in the van of enlightenment and that no one has such humanitarian feelings as they. Others have but to read an idea of somebody else's, and they can immediately assimilate it and believe that it was a child of their own brain. The "impudence of ignorance," if I may use the expression, is developed to a wonderful extent in such cases;--unlikely as it appears, it is met with at every turn.
This confidence of a stupid man in his own talents has been wonderfully depicted by Gogol in the amazing character of Pirogoff. Pirogoff has not the slightest doubt of his own genius,--nay, of his SUPERIORITY of genius,--so certain is he of it that he never questions it. How many Pirogoffs have there not been among our writers--scholars--propagandists? I say "have been," but indeed there are plenty of them at this very day.
Our friend, Gania, belonged to the other class--to the "much cleverer" persons, though he was from head to foot permeated and saturated with the longing to be original. This class, as I have said above, is far less happy. For the "clever commonplace" person, though he may possibly imagine himself a man of genius and originality, none the less has within his heart the deathless worm of suspicion and doubt; and this doubt sometimes brings a clever man to despair. (As a rule, however, nothing tragic happens;--his liver becomes a little damaged in the course of time, nothing more serious. Such men do not give up their aspirations after originality without a severe struggle,--and there have been men who, though good fellows in themselves, and even benefactors to humanity, have sunk to the level of base criminals for the sake of originality.
Gania was a beginner, as it were, upon this road. A deep and unchangeable consciousness of his own lack of talent, combined with a vast longing to be able to persuade himself that he was original, had rankled in his heart, even from childhood.
He seemed to have been born with overwrought nerves, and in his passionate desire to excel, he was often led to the brink of some rash step; and yet, having resolved upon such a step, when the moment arrived, he invariably proved too sensible to take it. He was ready, in the same way, to do a base action in order to obtain his wished-for object; and yet, when the moment came to do it, he found that he was too honest for any great baseness. (Not that he objected to acts of petty meanness--he was always ready for THEM.) He looked with hate and loathing on the poverty and downfall of his family, and treated his mother with haughty contempt, although he knew that his whole future depended on her character and reputation.
Aglaya had simply frightened him; yet he did not give up all thoughts of her--though he never seriously hoped that she would condescend to him. At the time of his "adventure" with Nastasia Philipovna he had come to the conclusion that money was his only hope--money should do all for him.
At the moment when he lost Aglaya, and after the scene with Nastasia, he had felt so low in his own eyes that he actually brought the money back to the prince. Of this returning of the money given to him by a madwoman who had received it from a madman, he had often repented since--though he never ceased to be proud of his action. During the short time that Muishkin remained in Petersburg Gania had had time to come to hate him for his sympathy, though the prince told him that it was "not everyone who would have acted so nobly" as to return the money. He had long pondered, too, over his relations with Aglaya, and had persuaded himself that with such a strange, childish, innocent character as hers, things might have ended very differently. Remorse then seized him; he threw up his post, and buried himself in self-torment and reproach.
He lived at Ptitsin's, and openly showed contempt for the latter, though he always listened to his advice, and was sensible enough to ask for it when he wanted it. Gavrila Ardalionovitch was angry with Ptitsin because the latter did not care to become a Rothschild. "If you are to be a Jew," he said, "do it properly-- squeeze people right and left, show some character; be the King of the Jews while you are about it."
Ptitsin was quiet and not easily offended--he only laughed. But on one occasion he explained seriously to Gania that he was no Jew, that he did nothing dishonest, that he could not help the market price of money, that, thanks to his accurate habits, he had already a good footing and was respected, and that his business was flourishing.
"I shan't ever be a Rothschild, and there is no reason why I should," he added, smiling; "but I shall have a house in the Liteynaya, perhaps two, and that will be enough for me." "Who knows but what I may have three!" he concluded to himself; but this dream, cherished inwardly, he never confided to a soul.
Nature loves and favours such people. Ptitsin will certainly have his reward, not three houses, but four, precisely because from childhood up he had realized that he would never be a Rothschild. That will be the limit of Ptitsin's fortune, and, come what may, he will never have more than four houses.
Varvara Ardalionovna was not like her brother. She too, had passionate desires, but they were persistent rather than impetuous. Her plans were as wise as her methods of carrying them out. No doubt she also belonged to the category of ordinary people who dream of being original, but she soon discovered that she had not a grain of true originality, and she did not let it trouble her too much. Perhaps a certain kind of pride came to her help. She made her first concession to the demands of practical life with great resolution when she consented to marry Ptitsin. However, when she married she did not say to herself, "Never mind a mean action if it leads to the end in view," as her brother would certainly have said in such a case; it is quite probable that he may have said it when he expressed his elder-brotherly satisfaction at her decision. Far from this; Varvara Ardalionovna did not marry until she felt convinced that her future husband was unassuming, agreeable, almost cultured, and that nothing on earth would tempt him to a really dishonourable deed. As to small meannesses, such trifles did not trouble her. Indeed, who is free from them? It is absurd to expect the ideal! Besides, she knew that her marriage would provide a refuge for all her family. Seeing Gania unhappy, she was anxious to help him, in spite of their former disputes and misunderstandings. Ptitsin, in a friendly way, would press his brother-in-law to enter the army. "You know," he said sometimes, jokingly, "you despise generals and generaldom, but you will see that 'they' will all end by being generals in their turn. You will see it if you live long enough!"
"But why should they suppose that I despise generals?" Gania thought sarcastically to himself.
To serve her brother's interests, Varvara Ardalionovna was constantly at the Epanchins' house, helped by the fact that in childhood she and Gania had played with General Ivan Fedorovitch's daughters. It would have been inconsistent with her character if in these visits she had been pursuing a chimera; her project was not chimerical at all; she was building on a firm basis--on her knowledge of the character of the Epanchin family, especially Aglaya, whom she studied closely. All Varvara's efforts were directed towards bringing Aglaya and Gania together. Perhaps she achieved some result; perhaps, also, she made the mistake of depending too much upon her brother, and expecting more from him than he would ever be capable of giving. However this may be, her manoeuvres were skilful enough. For weeks at a time she would never mention Gania. Her attitude was modest but dignified, and she was always extremely truthful and sincere. Examining the depths of her conscience, she found nothing to reproach herself with, and this still further strengthened her in her designs. But Varvara Ardalionovna sometimes remarked that she felt spiteful; that there was a good deal of vanity in her, perhaps even of wounded vanity. She noticed this at certain times more than at others, and especially after her visits to the Epanchins.
Today, as I have said, she returned from their house with a heavy feeling of dejection. There was a sensation of bitterness, a sort of mocking contempt, mingled with it.
Arrived at her own house, Varia heard a considerable commotion going on in the upper storey, and distinguished the voices of her father and brother. On entering the salon she found Gania pacing up and down at frantic speed, pale with rage and almost tearing his hair. She frowned, and subsided on to the sofa with a tired air, and without taking the trouble to remove her hat. She very well knew that if she kept quiet and asked her brother nothing about his reason for tearing up and down the room, his wrath would fall upon her head. So she hastened to put the question:
"The old story, eh?"
"Old story? No! Heaven knows what's up now--I don't! Father has simply gone mad; mother's in floods of tears. Upon my word, Varia, I must kick him out of the house; or else go myself," he added, probably remembering that he could not well turn people out of a house which was not his own.
"You must make allowances," murmured Varia.
"Make allowances? For whom? Him--the old blackguard? No, no, Varia--that won't do! It won't do, I tell you! And look at the swagger of the man! He's all to blame himself, and yet he puts on so much 'side' that you'd think--my word!--'It's too much trouble to go through the gate, you must break the fence for me!' That's the sort of air he puts on; but what's the matter with you, Varia? What a curious expression you have!"
"I'm all right," said Varia, in a tone that sounded as though she were all wrong.
Gania looked more intently at her.
"You've been THERE?" he asked, suddenly.
"Yes."
"Did you find out anything?"
"Nothing unexpected. I discovered that it's all true. My husband was wiser than either of us. Just as he suspected from the beginning, so it has fallen out. Where is he?"
"Out. Well--what has happened?--go on."
"The prince is formally engaged to her--that's settled. The elder sisters told me about it. Aglaya has agreed. They don't attempt to conceal it any longer; you know how mysterious and secret they have all been up to now. Adelaida's wedding is put off again, so that both can be married on one day. Isn't that delightfully romantic? Somebody ought to write a poem on it. Sit down and write an ode instead of tearing up and down like that. This evening Princess Bielokonski is to arrive; she comes just in time--they have a party tonight. He is to be presented to old Bielokonski, though I believe he knows her already; probably the engagement will be openly announced. They are only afraid that he may knock something down, or trip over something when he comes into the room. It would be just like him."
Gania listened attentively, but to his sister's astonishment he was by no means so impressed by this news (which should, she thought, have been so important to him) as she had expected.
"Well, it was clear enough all along," he said, after a moment's reflection. "So that's the end," he added, with a disagreeable smile, continuing to walk up and down the room, but much slower than before, and glancing slyly into his sister's face.
"It's a good thing that you take it philosophically, at all events," said Varia. "I'm really very glad of it."
"Yes, it's off our hands--off YOURS, I should say."
"I think I have served you faithfully. I never even asked you what happiness you expected to find with Aglaya."
"Did I ever expect to find happiness with Aglaya?"
"Come, come, don't overdo your philosophy. Of course you did. Now it's all over, and a good thing, too; pair of fools that we have been! I confess I have never been able to look at it seriously. I busied myself in it for your sake, thinking that there was no knowing what might happen with a funny girl like that to deal with. There were ninety to one chances against it. To this moment I can't make out why you wished for it."
"H'm! now, I suppose, you and your husband will never weary of egging me on to work again. You'll begin your lectures about perseverance and strength of will, and all that. I know it all by heart," said Gania, laughing.
"He's got some new idea in his head," thought Varia. "Are they pleased over there--the parents?" asked Gania, suddenly.
"N--no, I don't think they are. You can judge for yourself. I think the general is pleased enough; her mother is a little uneasy. She always loathed the idea of the prince as a HUSBAND; everybody knows that."
"Of course, naturally. The bridegroom is an impossible and ridiculous one. I mean, has SHE given her formal consent?"
"She has not said 'no,' up to now, and that's all. It was sure to be so with her. You know what she is like. You know how absurdly shy she is. You remember how she used to hide in a cupboard as a child, so as to avoid seeing visitors, for hours at a time. She is just the same now; but, do you know, I think there is something serious in the matter, even from her side; I feel it, somehow. She laughs at the prince, they say, from morn to night in order to hide her real feelings; but you may be sure she finds occasion to say something or other to him on the sly, for he himself is in a state of radiant happiness. He walks in the clouds; they say he is extremely funny just now; I heard it from themselves. They seemed to be laughing at me in their sleeves-- those elder girls--I don't know why."
Gania had begun to frown, and probably Varia added this last sentence in order to probe his thought. However, at this moment, the noise began again upstairs.
"I'll turn him out!" shouted Gania, glad of the opportunity of venting his vexation. "I shall just turn him out--we can't have this."
"Yes, and then he'll go about the place and disgrace us as he did yesterday."
"How 'as he did yesterday'? What do you mean? What did he do yesterday?" asked Gania, in alarm.
"Why, goodness me, don't you know?" Varia stopped short.
"What did he do there? What did he say?" "They couldn't tell me themselves; they couldn't make head or tail of it; but he frightened them all. He came to see the general, who was not at home; so he asked for Lizabetha Prokofievna. First of all, he begged her for some place, or situation, for work of some kind, and then he began to complain about US, about me and my husband, and you, especially YOU; he said a lot of things."
"Oh! couldn't you find out?" muttered Gania, trembling hysterically.
"No--nothing more than that. Why, they couldn't understand him themselves; and very likely didn't tell me all."
Gania seized his head with both hands and tottered to the window; Varia sat down at the other window.
"Funny girl, Aglaya," she observed, after a pause. "When she left me she said, 'Give my special and personal respects to your parents; I shall certainly find an opportunity to see your father one day,' and so serious over it. She's a strange creature."
"Wasn't she joking? She was speaking sarcastically!" "Not a bit of it; that's just the strange part of it."
"Does she know about father, do you think--or not?"
"That they do NOT know about it in the house is quite certain, the rest of them, I mean; but you have given me an idea. Aglaya perhaps knows. She alone, though, if anyone; for the sisters were as astonished as I was to hear her speak so seriously. If she knows, the prince must have told her."
"Oh! it's not a great matter to guess who told her. A thief! A thief in our family, and the head of the family, too!"
"Oh! nonsense!" cried Varia, angrily. "That was nothing but a drunkard's tale. Nonsense! Why, who invented the whole thing-- Lebedeff and the prince--a pretty pair! Both were probably drunk."
"Father is a drunkard and a thief; I am a beggar, and the husband of my sister is a usurer," continued Gania, bitterly. "There was a pretty list of advantages with which to enchant the heart of Aglaya."
"That same husband of your sister, the usurer--"
"Feeds me? Go on. Don't stand on ceremony, pray."
"Don't lose your temper. You are just like a schoolboy. You think that all this sort of thing would harm you in Aglaya's eyes, do you? You little know her character. She is capable of refusing the most brilliant party, and running away and starving in a garret with some wretched student; that's the sort of girl she is. You never could or did understand how interesting you would have seen in her eyes if you had come firmly and proudly through our misfortunes. The prince has simply caught her with hook and line; firstly, because he never thought of fishing for her, and secondly, because he is an idiot in the eyes of most people. It's quite enough for her that by accepting him she puts her family out and annoys them all round--that's what she likes. You don't understand these things."
"We shall see whether I understand or no!" said Gania, enigmatically. "But I shouldn't like her to know all about father, all the same. I thought the prince would manage to hold his tongue about this, at least. He prevented Lebedeff spreading the news--he wouldn't even tell me all when I asked him--"
"Then you must see that he is not responsible. What does it matter to you now, in any case? What are you hoping for still? If you HAVE a hope left, it is that your suffering air may soften her heart towards you."
"Oh, she would funk a scandal like anyone else. You are all tarred with one brush!"
"What! AGLAYA would have funked? You are a chicken-hearted fellow, Gania!" said Varia, looking at her brother with contempt. "Not one of us is worth much. Aglaya may be a wild sort of a girl, but she is far nobler than any of us, a thousand times nobler!"
"Well--come! there's nothing to get cross about," said Gania.
"All I'm afraid of is--mother. I'm afraid this scandal about father may come to her ears; perhaps it has already. I am dreadfully afraid."
"It undoubtedly has already!" observed Gania.
Varia had risen from her place and had started to go upstairs to her mother; but at this observation of Gania's she turned and gazed at him attentively.
"Who could have told her?"
"Hippolyte, probably. He would think it the most delightful amusement in the world to tell her of it the instant he moved over here; I haven't a doubt of it."
"But how could he know anything of it? Tell me that. Lebedeff and the prince determined to tell no one--even Colia knows nothing."
"What, Hippolyte? He found it out himself, of course. Why, you have no idea what a cunning little animal he is; dirty little gossip! He has the most extraordinary nose for smelling out other people's secrets, or anything approaching to scandal. Believe it or not, but I'm pretty sure he has got round Aglaya. If he hasn't, he soon will. Rogojin is intimate with him, too. How the prince doesn't notice it, I can't understand. The little wretch considers me his enemy now and does his best to catch me tripping. What on earth does it matter to him, when he's dying? However, you'll see; I shall catch HIM tripping yet, and not he me."
"Why did you get him over here, if you hate him so? And is it really worth your while to try to score off him?"
"Why, it was yourself who advised me to bring him over!"
"I thought he might be useful. You know he is in love with Aglaya himself, now, and has written to her; he has even written to Lizabetha Prokofievna!"
"Oh! he's not dangerous there!" cried Gania, laughing angrily. "However, I believe there is something of that sort in the air; he is very likely to be in love, for he is a mere boy. But he won't write anonymous letters to the old lady; that would be too audacious a thing for him to attempt; but I dare swear the very first thing he did was to show me up to Aglaya as a base deceiver and intriguer. I confess I was fool enough to attempt something through him at first. I thought he would throw himself into my service out of revengeful feelings towards the prince, the sly little beast! But I know him better now. As for the theft, he may have heard of it from the widow in Petersburg, for if the old man committed himself to such an act, he can have done it for no other object but to give the money to her. Hippolyte said to me, without any prelude, that the general had promised the widow four hundred roubles. Of course I understood, and the little wretch looked at me with a nasty sort of satisfaction. I know him; you may depend upon it he went and told mother too, for the pleasure of wounding her. And why doesn't he die, I should like to know? He undertook to die within three weeks, and here he is getting fatter. His cough is better, too. It was only yesterday that he said that was the second day he hadn't coughed blood."
"Well, turn him out!"
"I don't HATE, I despise him," said Gania, grandly. "Well, I do hate him, if you like!" he added, with a sudden access of rage, "and I'll tell him so to his face, even when he's dying! If you had but read his confession--good Lord! what refinement of impudence! Oh, but I'd have liked to whip him then and there, like a schoolboy, just to see how surprised he would have been! Now he hates everybody because he--Oh, I say, what on earth are they doing there! Listen to that noise! I really can't stand this any longer. Ptitsin!" he cried, as the latter entered the room, "what in the name of goodness are we coming to? Listen to that--"
But the noise came rapidly nearer, the door burst open, and old General Ivolgin, raging, furious, purple-faced, and trembling with anger, rushed in. He was followed by Nina Alexandrovna, Colia, and behind the rest, Hippolyte.
有这么一种人，对他们很难说出什么最典型、最有特点的个性能一下子整个地形容他们；这是那些通常被称作“平平常常”、“绝大多数”的人，他们确实构成任何社会的大多数。作家们在自己的中长篇小说中大多努力选取社会的典型，形象地、艺术地表现他们，这种典型在现实生活中完全是很少能遇见的，但是他们几乎比现实本身更为现实。波德科列辛＊作为一种典型，也许甚至是夸大了的，但绝非凭空捏造。有多少聪明人从果戈理那里认识了波德科列辛后，立即就发现有几十、几百他们的熟人和朋友跟波德科列辛相象得不得了。在读到果戈理的作品前他们就知道，他们的这些朋友就是波德科列辛这样的人，只是还不知道就该这样称呼他罢了。在现实生活中新郎面临婚礼时跳窗逃走是极为罕见的，因为不说别的，这样做至少是很让人尴尬的；但是有多少新郎，甚至还是些可尊敬的聪明人，在婚礼前却在自己内心深处准备承认自己是波德科列辛。不是所有的丈夫时时处处都高喊：“Ｔｕ Ｉ’ａｓ ｖｏｕｌｕ，Ｇｅｏｒｇｅ ｄａｎｄｉｍ！＊但是，天哪，全世界有多少丈夫在他们的蜜月后却几百万次甚至几十亿次重复着这一发自心扉的呼声，而谁又知道，也许就在婚礼后的第二天。
就这样，我们不再做更认真的说明，只想说，在现实生活中人物的典型性仿佛被掺了水，所有这些乔治·当丹和波德科列辛确实是存在的，每天在我们面前奔来奔去，往来穿梭，但是似乎处于稍微稀释的状态。最后，为了真理的全面性，需要附带说明一下，整个儿如莫里哀塑造的乔治·当丹一般的活乔治·当丹，在现实生活中也可能会遇到，尽管很难得碰上。我们就此结束我们的议论，它开始变得像杂志上的批评文章了。但是在我们面前毕竟还留着一个问题：小说家该怎么处理那些普普通通、完全是“平平常常的”人，怎么把他们展示给读者，使他们多少变得能使人产生兴趣？在叙述中完全避开他们无论如何是办不到的，因为普通人无时无刻都大量地构成了日常生活事件中必不可少的环节；避开他们，也就破坏了真实性。光用一些典型去充塞小说，或者，为了引人兴趣，甚至干脆让一些古怪和虚幻的人物布满小说，那么是不真实的，大概，也不会引起兴趣。据我们看来，即使是在普通人中间，作家也应该努力去寻找有意义的和有教益的特色。例如，有些普通人的本质恰恰在于他们始终一贯和一成不变的普通性上，或者，更好的是，尽管这些人的非凡的努力无论如何想要脱离平常和保守的巢穴，他们的结局去仍然是依然故我，永远只是墨守成规，那么这样的人甚至具有某种自己的典型性--普通人的典型，他们怎么也不想当他本来当的普通人，千方百计想成为与众不同和有独立精神的人，却又不具备丝毫独立的本领。
＊果戈理喜剧《结婚》中的人物。
＊＊法国莫里哀的喜剧《乔汉·当丹》中的话，“你是自作自受，乔治·当丹”。
我们故事中的某些人就属于这一类“平平常常”或“普普通通”的人，至今还很少向读者交代清楚他们的情况（我承认这一点）。瓦尔瓦拉·阿尔达利翁诺夫娜·普季岑娜，她的丈夫普季岑先生，她的兄长加夫里拉·阿尔达利翁诺维奇正是这样的人。
确实，没有什么比做一个例如这样的人更懊丧的了：具有富裕的家财，高贵的姓氏，像样的外表，不错的教育，人也不蠢，甚至心地善良，可同时却没有任何才能、任何特长、甚至任何古怪行为、任何一个自己的思想，完全“跟大家一样”。财产是有的，但不是罗特希尔德那样的富翁；姓氏是清白的，但从来也没有标志过什么；外表是体面的，但很少能表明什么；所受的教育是正规的，但是却不知道用到什么地方去；智慧是有的，但没有自己的思想；心地是好的，但缺乏宽宏大量；等等，等等，一切方面都是如此。世界上这样的人异常之多，甚至比觉得的多得多；如所有的人一样，他们被分为两大类：一类是才智有限的，另一类“聪明得多”，前者要幸运得多。对于才智有限的“平常人”来说没有比把自己想象成是不平凡的、与众不同的人更容易的了，他们毫不犹豫地以此为乐，聊以自慰。我们的有些小姐只要剪短自己的头发，戴上蓝色眼镜，自称是虚无主义者，马上就相信，戴上眼镜后他们便立即有了自己的“信念”。有的人只要在自己心里感觉到点滴全人类的和善良的感受，便立即确信，谁也不会有他这样的情感，他在总体发展上是个先进者。有的人只要口头上接受某种思想或者没头没尾读了页把书，便马上相信这是在他自己的头脑里产生的“自己的思想”。在这种种情况下厚颜无耻的幼稚（如果可以这样说的话）会达到令人吃惊的地步；所有这一切令人不可思议，但却时时刻刻都能遇到。果戈理在惊人的典型皮罗戈夫＊中尉身上把这种厚颜无耻的幼雅；把一个蠢人对自己和自己的才能的毫不怀疑的自信绝妙地表现了出来，皮罗戈夫甚至并不怀疑自己是个天才，甚至高于所有的天才；他自信到一次也没有向自己提出过这种疑问，不过，对他来说是不存在疑问的。终于，为了满足道德感情受了侮辱的读者，伟大的作家不得不鞭笞了他一顿，但是，看到这位大人物仅仅是抖了抖身子，在挨了打以后为了补足精力吃了千层饼，作家也只能摊摊双手，不管自己的读者了。我一直为果戈理笔下的这位伟大的皮罗戈夫只有这么低的军衔而痛惜，因为皮罗戈夫是那样自鸣得意，随着年资增长和职衔升迁他戴的肩章的穗干将越来越粗，越来越打转，他也就更容易把自己想象成例如是个出类拔萃的统帅；甚至不是想象，简直就深信不疑，升了将军，怎么会不是统帅呢？这样的将军后来在战场上惨遭失败又有多少？而在我们的文学家、学者、鼓动家中又有过多少皮罗戈夫？我说“有过”，但是，当然，现在也有……
我们故事中的人物加夫里拉·阿尔达利翁诺维奇·伊沃尔京属于另一类人；他属于“聪明得多”这一类人，尽管他从头到脚浑身都沾染了要出人头地的愿望。但是这一类人，正如我们在前面已经指出的那样，比起前者来要不幸得多。问题在于，聪明的“平常人”即使有时候（也许是一辈子）把自己想象成出类拔孽的天才，但是在自己心底还保留着一条怀疑的蛆虫，它能使聪明人有时完全陷于绝望而告终；如果他屈服于命运，也已经被深入内心的虚荣完全毒害了。不过，我们举的例子无论如何是个极端，绝大多数这类聪明人的遭遇完全不是这么悲惨的；仅仅在暮年时肝脏多少会有损害，如此而已。但是，在顺从和屈服以前，这些人终究是会异常长久地闹腾一通，从青年时代起直至与世无争的年龄，而一切全是出于要出人头地的愿望。甚至还会遇到非常奇怪的情况：出于出人头地的愿望有的正派人甚至下得了决心会干卑贱的事；甚至也常有这样的事：这些不幸的人中有的不仅正直，而且甚至还很善良，是全家的神明，用自己的劳动不仅赡养自己的家人，而且还养活他人，结果又怎样呢？一辈子不得安宁！他曾这么好地履行了自己做人的职责，这样的想法丝毫也不能使他安宁和得到慰藉；甚至相反会刺激他，他会说：“瞧，我一辈子在忙什么了，就是这一切束缚了我的手脚，就是这一切妨碍我发明火药！假若没有这一切，我一定能发明什么，不是发明火药，就是发现美洲，－－确实我还不知道会发明什么，但是一定会发明的！”这些先生最本质的特点是，他们这一辈子无论如何也不能确切知道，什么是他们应该去发现的一什夕是他们准备奉献终生去发现的，火药还是美洲，不过，说真的，他们瞩望发明所受的痛苦和烦恼也够得上哥伦布或伽利略那份命运了，加夫里拉·阿尔达利翁诺维奇正是这样开始他的人生的，但还刚刚开始。他会面临长时间的折腾、一方面不断地深深感受到自己的缺少才能，另一方面不可抑制地要使自己相信他是个有独立精神的人，这二者的矛盾几乎还是从少年时代起就使他的心灵受到了严重的创伤。这是个生性嫉妒、有着强烈欲望的年轻人，而且，好像生来就有一副好激动的神经。他把自己炽烈的愿望看做是力量。怀着超凡脱俗的热望，他有时准备做最不明智的贸然的跳跃；但是事情进行到刚刚要做这贸然的跳跃时，我们的主人公要下决心时，他又总是聪明过头。这就使他痛苦万分。也许，有时候他甚至下了决心去干极端卑鄙的事，只要能达到他理想中的东西；但是仿佛故意的，事情二旦要采取行动了，对于要于这极端卑鄙的事，他又总是太正直了（不过，干那种卑鄙的小事槽他是随时都会同意的）。他怀着厌恶的和憎恨的心理看着自己家庭的贫穷和败落。他甚至傲慢和轻蔑地对待母亲，尽管他自己也清楚地懂得，母亲的名声和性格现在还是他功名的主要支撑点。到叶潘钦将军那里干事，他立即对自己说：“既然要做卑鄙下流的事，那就做个彻底，只要能赢。”可是几乎从来也没有彻底地去做。再做，为什么他想到他一定得做卑鄙下流的事呢？那个时候他简直怕阿格拉娅，但是他并没有放弃与她的关系，而是抱着万一的希望，拽着它，虽然他从来也没有当真相信过她会俯就他、后来，在跟纳斯塔西娅·费利帕夫娜有纠葛这件事中，他突然领悟到，要达到一切全在于钱。“卑鄙下流就卑鄙下流，”那时他每天都以自我满足同时也有几分惧怕的心理反复对自己说这话；“既然卑鄙下流，就索性卑鄙下流到顶，”他时时给自己鼓气，“在这种时候墨守成规是会胆怯的，而我们并不畏怯！”他输掉了阿格拉娅，又被情势所压垮，便完全心灰意懒，真的把当时发了狂的女人扔给他的钱送来给公爵（而给那女人送钱来的也是一个发了狂的人。）后来他对于还钱这件事后悔了上千次，尽管与此同时他又吹嘘这一点，在公爵留在彼得堡时，他确实曾哭了三天，但是在这三天中他也已经开始憎恨公爵，因为公爵过分同情地看待他，而那时他归还这样数额的钱，“不是所有的人都有决心这么做的。”但是他老实地自我承认，他的全部苦恼就只是虚荣心不断地受到压抑，这种承认又强烈地折磨着他。直到过了很久以后他才看清并确信，他跟阿格拉娅这样天真、古怪的小姐之间的事本来当真能发展的，悔恨啮噬着他的心；他放弃了职务，沉溺于苦恼和灰心之中。他和父母都住在普季岑家并由其供养，同时他又公开蔑视普季岑，虽然他经常听从他的劝告，而且是那样明理，几乎总是征询他的意见。比方说，普季岑并不奢望成为罗特希尔德，也不以此为目标，这使加夫里拉·阿尔达利翁诺维奇很生气。“既然是放高利货，那就干到底，就去压榨人，从他们那里压出钱来，要有刚硬的性格，要做一个犹太王！”普季岑是个谦和，安详的人，他只是微笑，但有一次他认为甚至有必要与加尼亚认真地解释一下并带着几分尊严做了这件事，他向加尼亚证明他没有做过任何不正派的事，因此加尼亚称他为犹太人是没有道理的；如果说要付出这样的代价得到钱，那么他也没有过错，他做事诚实，正派，真诚，他仅仅是“这些”事情的代理人，最后，他说，由于他办事认真，已经在一些最有优势的人中间享有相当好的声誉，他的事业在扩大。“我不会做罗特希乐德，再说也没什么必要，”他笑着补充说，干而在利捷伊纳亚街上会有我的一幢房子，也许，甚至是两幢，我也就到此为止。”“谁知道呢。也许是三幢！”他暗自思忖，但从来也不说出声来，一直隐瞒着自己的理想。而命运喜欢和爱抚这样的人；它会奖赏给普季岑不是三幢，而一定是四幢楼，正是因为他从小已经知道，他永远不会成为罗特希尔德。但是超过四幢楼，命运也是怎么也下会给的，普季岑的事业也就到那为止了。
＊果戈理著《涅瓦大街》里的人物。
加夫里拉·阿尔达利翁诺维奇的妹妹则完全是另一种人。她也怀着强烈的愿望，但执著多于激动。当事情进行到最后关头时，她不乏理智，但是即使是不到最后关头时，理智也没有离开她。确实，她也是属于期望出人头地的“平常人”之列，然而她很快就能意识到，她身上没有点滴别的独特之处，但她对此并没有过多的忧伤，谁知道呢，也许是出于一种特别的自尊。她以非凡的决心做出了第一步实际的行动，嫁给了普季岑先生；但是出嫁的时候她根本就没有对自己说：“卑鄙下流就卑鄙下流，只要达到目的，”不像加夫里拉·阿尔达利翁诺维奇那样在这种情况下是不会放过说这种话的（作为兄长他赞同她的决定，甚至差点当着她的面说这话）。甚至完全相反，瓦尔瓦拉·阿尔达利翁诺夫娜有充分根据相信她未来的丈夫是个谦和、令人好感的人，几乎是有教养的人，无论如何永远也不会去做缺大德的恶事，正是确信这些以后她才嫁给他。对于那些细小的缺德事，瓦尔瓦拉·阿尔达利翁诺夫娜就像对鸡毛蒜皮的小事一样未加过问；哪里没有这样的小缺德事呢？找的可不是理想人物嘛！何况她知道，她出嫁就可以给自己的父母、兄弟一个栖身之处。看到兄长遭遇不幸，她想帮助他，尽管过去有过种种家庭的误解，普季岑有时催加尼亚，当然是友好地催促，催他去找差使。“你瞧不起将军和将军的衔头，”他有时开玩笑对他说，“可是你瞧吧，所有‘他们’这些人最终都成了将军；你活到那个时候，就会看到的。”“可是凭什么他们认为我轻视将军和将军衔头呢？”加尼亚讥讽地暗自思忖。为了帮助兄长，瓦尔瓦拉·阿尔达利翁诺夫娜决定扩大自己的行动范围：她打进叶潘钦家，儿童时代的回忆帮了很大的忙：她和哥哥还在童年时就和叶潘钦家的小姐们一起玩耍过。这里要指出，假若瓦尔瓦拉·阿尔达利翁诺夫娜去拜访叶潘钦小姐是追求某种不寻常的理想，那么她马上就会脱离她自己把自己归入的那一类人；但是她追求的不是理想；从她来讲这里甚至有相当切实的盘算：她是以这一家的性格做基础的。她孜孜不倦地研究过阿格拉娅的性格。她向自己提出了任务，要使哥哥和阿格拉娅两人彼此重新回心转意。也许，她确实己达到了某些进展；也许，她陷进过错误，比方说，过多地寄希望于兄长，期待着从他那里得到他永远也不会以任何方式给予的东西。不论怎样，她在叶潘钦家做得相当巧妙：好多星期她都不提她哥哥的事，总是异常真挚诚恳，举止不卑不亢。至于自己的良心深处，她不怕朝里窥视，觉得完全没什么可以责备自己的。这一点赋予她力量。有时候她发觉自己身上只有一点不好，那就是跟她也许好发怒。也有很强的自尊心，甚至几乎是虚荣心，只是受到了压抑；几乎每次离开叶潘钦家时，她尤其会觉到这一点。
现在她就是从她们那儿回来，正如我们已经说过的那样，她陷于忧伤的沉思之中。在这种忧伤中透露出一丝嘲讽和痛苦。普季岑在帕夫洛夫斯克住在一幢并不漂亮，但宽敞的木屋里。这幢小屋坐落在尘上飞扬的街道上。很快就将完全归他所有，因而已经轮到他开始把它卖给什么人了。瓦乐瓦拉·阿尔达利翁诺夫娜登上台阶的时候，听到楼上非同寻常的吵架声，并区分出哥哥的和爸爸大叫大嚷的嗓门。走进厅屋，她看见加尼亚气得脸色煞白，几乎揪着自己的头发，在房问里来回急步上着，她皱了下眉头，带着一副疲倦的样子，帽子也不脱就坐到沙发上：她非常清楚地懂得：如果她再沉默一分钟，不问一声哥哥，为什么他这样急步走来走，他一定会生气的，因此瓦里娅终于赶紧开腔问道：
“还是老一套。”
“哪是什么老一套！”加尼亚嚷着，“老一套！不，鬼知道现在发生了什么，而不是老一套！老头变得疯了似的……妈妈在号啕大哭。真的，瓦里娅，随你怎么样，我要把他赶出家门，或者……或者我自己离开你们，”他补了一句，大概是想起了，不能把人从人家家里赶走。
“应该宽容些。”瓦里娅低声说。
“宽容什么？对谁？”加尼亚怒气勃勃说，“宽容他的卑劣行为？不，随你怎么说‘这可不行！不行，不行，不行！’而且，瞧他那副佯子：自己有过错，却还神气活现的。‘我不想走大门，给我把围墙拆了！……’你怎么这副样子坐着，你的脸色怎么这样？”
“脸色就脸色呗，”瓦里娅不满地说。
加尼亚更用心地看了她一眼。
“你到那边去了？”他突然问。
“等一等，他们又嚷起来了：真够羞耻的，而且还在这样的时刻！”
“什么这样的时刻？没有什么特别的这样的时刻。”
加尼亚更加专注地打量着妹妹。
“你知道什么了。”他问。
“至少没有什么出人意料的事。我打听到，这一切都是真的。我丈夫比我们俩估计得更正确：一开始他就预言过，果真就是这么回事。他在什么地方？”
“不在家。是什么结果？”
“公爵已是正式的未婚夫了，事情已经决定。是两位姐姐告诉我的。阿格拉娅也同意了；他们甚至也不再隐瞒了。（那里在这以前总有一种神秘的气氛。）阿杰莱达的婚礼又拖延了，为的是一下子同时举行一个婚礼，在同一天，真够诗意的！就像一首诗。你还是做一首结婚的诗，也比白白地地满屋子乱转要好。今天晚上别洛孔斯卡娅要到他们家，她来得正是时候，还会有别的客人。他们要把他介绍给洛孔断卡娅，虽然他已经认识她了，似乎要当众宣布。他们只是担心，公爵当着客人的面走迸房间的时候，可别掉下或打碎什么东西，或者他自己别噗通一声倒下了，他总会出什么事。”
加尼亚听得非常注意，但是使其妹妹感到惊奇的是，这一应该使他吃惊的消息似乎一点也没有使他产生惊讶的反应。
“这有什么，这是明摆着的，”想了一下后他说，“这就是说，一切结束了！”他带着一种奇怪的苦笑补充说，一边狡黯地探察着妹妹的脸色，依然继续在房间里来回走着，但已经安宁得多了。
“还好，你能以皙学家的姿态接受这样的事实，真的，我很高兴，”瓦里娅说。
“可以解脱了；至少你可以解脱了。”
“可以说，我是诚心为你效劳的， 既没高谈阔论，也没惹你厌烦；我没有问过你，你想在阿格拉娅那里寻求什么样的幸福？”
“难道我……在阿格拉娅那里寻求过幸福？”
“算了，请别热衷于哲学！当然是这样。当然，我们也够了，当了傻瓜。我向你承认，对这件事我从来也没有认真对待过；只不过是抱着‘万一能成’的心理做这书件，把希望寄托在她那可笑的性格上，而主要是为了使你感到快慰，虽然有百分之九十的可能要垮，我甚至到现在还不知道，你想达到的是什么目标。”
“现在你和丈夫又要催我去干差事了；又要对我大讲起顽强和意志力的道理来，别瞧不起于小事，等等，我都能背得出来，”加尼亚哈哈笑了起来。
“他头脑里有什么新的想法！”瓦里娅想。
“那边怎么样，父母高兴吗。”突然加尼亚问。
“好像不高兴，其实，你自己也能得到结论；伊万·费奥多罗维奇是满意的，母亲则担心；过去她对于要把他当女婿来看并不怀有好感，这是众所周知的。”
“我不是说这个；他当未婚夫是不可思议和难以想象的，这很明白。我问的是现在的情况，现在那边怎么样，她正式同意了？”
“到现在她没有说过‘不’，这就是全部情况，但是也不可能从那里得到什么别的表示，你知道，到现在她的害羞腼腆和怕难为情有多乖戾：小时候她常钻到柜子里，在那里蹲上两三个小时，只是为了不出来见客人，现在个子长这么高，可还是那个样。知道吗，我不知为什么想，那边确实有什么严重的事情，甚至是她那方面的。据说，她从早到晚一个劲儿嘲笑公爵，为的是不露声色，但想必每天她都会对他说悄悄话，因为他就像在天堂里那样容光焕发……据说，他可笑得不得了。总之也是从她们那里听来的，我也觉得，她们那两个姐姐在当面取笑我。”
加尼亚终于变得阴郁起来；也许，瓦里娅故意深入到这个话题里去，以便洞察他的真正思想。但是上面又响起了喊叫声。
“我要赶他走！”加尼亚大吼一声，仿佛很高兴能借此发泄自己的烦恼。
“那他又会像昨天一样到处丢我们的脸。”
“怎么--像昨天一样？像昨天--这是怎么一回事？难道……”加尼亚突然惊慌得不得了。
“啊，我的天哪，难道你不知道？”瓦里娅恍然大悟。
“怎么……这么说难道是真的他到那儿去过了？”加尼亚又羞又怒，涨得满脸通红，大声嚷道，“天哪，你不是从那儿来吗？你知道些什么？老头去过那里没有？去还是没去过？”
加尼亚向门口冲去，瓦里娅奔向他，双手抓住了他。
“你要干什么？你说，你要去哪儿？”她说，“你现在放他走，他会做出更糟糕的事来，会去找所有的人！……”
“他在那边干了什么了？说了什么。”
“他们自己也讲不清楚，也不明白；只不过把大家吓坏了，他去找伊万·费奥多罗维奇，他不在，他便要求见叶莉扎维塔·普罗科菲耶夫娜。起先请求她谋个位置，找份差事，后来便抱怨起我们来，说我，说我丈夫，尤其是说你……说了一大堆话。”
“你没弄清楚说些什么。”加尼亚似歇斯底里发作一般全身发抖。
“哪能呢！他自己也未必明白说了些什么，也许，他们没有全转告我。”
加尼亚抓住脑袋，跑向窗口，瓦里娅在另一扇窗边坐下。
“可笑的阿格拉娅，”她突然指出，“叫住我说：“请向您父母转达我个人的特别是敬意；日内我一定找机会跟您爸爸见面。’她说得非常认真。奇怪得不得了……”
“不是嘲笑？不是讥讽。”
“正因为不是，所以才觉得奇怪。”
“她知道不知道老头的事，你怎么想？”
“他们家里不知道，这一点我不怀疑；但是你使我产生一个想法：阿格拉娅可能知道，就她一个人知道，因为当她这么认真地转达对父亲的问候时，她的两个姐姐也感到惊奇。再说是什么缘由正是向他致意？如果她知道，那就是公爵转告她的，”
“谁告诉她的，这不费劲知道，竟然当起小偷来了！这还不够吗？就在我们家，还是‘一家之主’呢！”
“嘿，胡说！”瓦里娅完全发火了，嚷道，“那是喝碎了胡闹的，没有别的用意；谁捏造这种话的？列别杰夫，公爵……他门自己都是好人；聪明过人。我可不怎么看重这一点。”
“老头是小偷和酒鬼，”加尼亚继续尖酸刻薄地说，“我是个穷鬼，妹夫是个放高利贷的，真有碍阿格打娅眼红的！没什么好说的，真够动听的！”
“这个妹夫，放高利贷者，在……”
“在养我，是不是？请你不用客气。”
“你发什么脾气？”瓦里娅豁然醒悟过来说，“你什么也不明白。就像个小学生似的。你以为，这一切都会损害你在阿格拉娅心目中的形象？你不知道她的性格；她能不理睬头号有钱的阔女婿，而心甘情愿地跑到某个大学生住的街上，跟他一起饿得要死，这就是她的理想！你永远也不可能理解，假如你能坚定和自尊地经受住我们这种家境，你在她眼里就会变得多么有意思！公爵使她上钩用的办法，第一，根本不去钓她，第二、他在大家面前装做白痴。为了他她把全家搞得乱糟糟的。单就这一点觉得好。咳，您什么也不明白！”
“得了，还得瞧，它竟明白下明白，”加尼亚令人费解地低语说，“只不过我依然不希望她知道老头的事。我认为，公爵会守口如瓶，不讲出去的。他也会制止列别杰夫的；在我缠着他问时，他也不想全对我说……”
“看来，你自己也看到了，除了他一切已经昭然若揭了。现在你还想干什么？还指望什么？如果还存在一线希望的话，那么这仅仅使你在她眼中平添了一副受难的样子。”
“嘿，尽管阿格拉娅充满罗曼蒂克，可是这种丑事也会使她望而却步的。一切都有一定的界限，一切都有一定的界限，你们全都是这样。”
“阿格拉娅会畏怯？”瓦里娅轻蔑瞥了一眼兄长，火冒三丈地说，“可是你的灵魂是卑贱的！你们这种人全都一钱不值，纵然她可笑、古怪，可是比我们所有的人要高尚成千倍。”
“好了，没什么，没什么，别生气，”加尼亚满意地又低声说。
“我只是怜悯母亲，”瓦里娅继续说，“我担心父亲的这件事会传到她耳朵里。哎，真担心！”
“大概已经传到了，”加尼亚指出。
瓦里娅本已站起来想上楼到尼娜·亚历山德罗夫娜那儿去，但停住身，注意地看了一眼兄长。
“谁会对她说呢？”
“想必是伊波利特。我认为，他一搬到我们这儿来，就把向母亲报告这件事看做是第一件乐事。”
“他又怎么知道的呢，请告诉我？公爵和列别杰夫决定对谁都不说出来，甚至科利亚也什么都不知道。”
“伊波利特？他自己打听到的。你无法想象，这家伙狡猾到什么程度，他多会搬弄是非，他有多么灵敏的鼻子，能嗅出一切丑事，一切坏事。嘿，信不信随你，而我深信，他已经把阿格拉娅掌握在手中。即使还没有掌握到手，也将会掌握到手的。罗戈任也跟他有联系，公爵怎么会没有注意到这一点！而且他现在多想暗算我呀！他把我看做是私敌，这点我早看清楚了，他干吗要这样，他这是要干什么，他可是快要死的人，我真不明白！但是我要哄骗他；你瞧着，不是他暗算我，而是我算计他。”
“你这么恨他，又为什么引他过来呢？他值得你费心算计他吗？”
“是你建议他搬到我们这儿来的。”
“我以为他会是个有用的人；知道吗，他自己现在爱上了阿格拉娅并给她写信。她们详细地探问我……他差点要给叶莉扎维塔·普罗科菲耶夫娜写信呢。”
“在这个意义上他并不危险！”加尼亚恶狠狠地笑着说，“不过，确实有什么地方不是那么回事。说他爱上了阿格拉娅，这很可能，因为是男孩嘛！但是……他不会给老太婆写匿名信。这是个恶毒、渺小、自负的庸人！……我能肯定，我确信，他在她面前把我们形容成阴谋家，他就是这样开始的。我承认，我起先像傻瓜似的对他泄露了我的心思；我以为，出于同样的对公爵报复的动计他会跟我利益一致；他是这么个狡猾的家伙！哦，我现在完全看透他了。关于这桩偷窃事他是从自己母亲，即大尉妻子那里听来的。老头既然决定干这事，就是为了大尉妻子。伊波列特突然无缘无故告诉我，‘将军’答应给他母亲４００卢布，他就这样没头没脑，不拘任何礼节地对我说了。这下我就全明白了。而他就那样窥视着我的眼睛，一副得到满足的神态。他一定也讲给妈妈听了，纯粹是要撕碎她的心而得到满足。他干吗还不死，你倒告诉我？他可是过三星期就该死的。而在这里还养胖了点！他也不再咳嗽了；昨天晚上他自己对我说，已经两天没咯血了。”
“赶他走。”
“我不是恨他，而是蔑视他，”加尼亚骄傲地说，“好，是的，是的，就算我恨他吧，就算是吧！”他突然异常愤怒地喊了起来，“我要当面对他说这点，即使他躺在枕头上即将死去，我也要说！假如你读过他的《自白》，天哪，你就会知道，他的幼稚到了多么无耻的地步！这是皮罗戈夫中尉，这是悲剧中的诺兹德廖夫＊，而主要的是个男孩！我那时要是揍他一顿，让他吃惊吃惊。该有多痛快。现在他向所有的人报复，就为了当时他没有得逞……但这是怎么回事？那里又闹起来了！这到底是怎么回事？我终究会忍受不了的。普季岑！”他向走进房间的普季岑喊了起来，“这算什么，事情到底要闹到什么地步？这……这……”
但吵闹声很快就越来越近了，门突然敞开了，伊沃尔京老头怒气冲冲，面孔发紫，浑身颤抖，无所约束地朝普季岑大发雷霆。尼娜·亚历山德罗夫娜、科利亚跟在老头后面，在大家后面的则是伊波利特。