"First I listened to him, but I did not understand what he said. He noticed it, and exacted my attention to his person. Then I rose and entered my own compartment.
""I must consider," said I to myself, "whether what I think is true, whether there is any reason to torment myself." I sat down, wishing to reflect quietly; but directly, instead of the peaceful reflections, the same thing began again. Instead of the reasoning, the pictures.
""How many times have I tormented myself in this way," I thought (I recalled previous and similar fits of jealousy), "and then seen it end in nothing at all? It is the same now. Perhaps, yes, surely, I shall find her quietly sleeping. She will awaken, she will be glad, and in her words and looks I shall see that nothing has happened, that all this is vain. Ah, if it would only so turn out!" "But no, that has happened too often! Now the end has come," a voice said to me.
"And again it all began. Ah, what torture! It is not to a hospital filled with syphilitic patients that I would take a young man to deprive him of the desire for women, but into my soul, to show him the demon which tore it. The frightful part was that I recognized in myself an indisputable right to the body of my wife, as if her body were entirely mine. And at the same time I felt that I could not possess this body, that it was not mine, that she could do with it as she liked, and that she liked to do with it as I did not like. And I was powerless against him and against her. He, like the Vanka of the song, would sing, before mounting the gallows, how he would kiss her sweet lips, etc., and he would even have the best of it before death. With her it was still worse. If she HAD NOT DONE IT, she had the desire, she wished to do it, and I knew that she did. That was worse yet. It would be better if she had already done it, to relieve me of my uncertainty.
"In short, I could not say what I desired. I desired that she might not want what she MUST want. It was complete madness."
CHAPTER XXVI.
"At the station before the last, when the conductor came to take the tickets, I took my baggage and went out on the car platform, and the consciousness that the climax was near at hand only added to my agitation. I was cold, my jaw trembled so that my teeth chattered.
Mechanically I left the station with the crowd, I took a tchik, and I started. I looked at the few people pa.s.sing in the streets and at the dvorniks. I read the signs, without thinking of anything. After going half a verst my feet began to feel cold, and I remembered that in the car I had taken off my woollen socks, and had put them in my travelling bag. Where had I put the bag? Was it with me? Yes, and the basket?
"I bethought myself that I had totally forgotten my baggage. I took out my check, and then decided it was not worth while to return. I continued on my way. In spite of all my efforts to remember, I cannot at this moment make out why I was in such a hurry. I know only that I was conscious that a serious and menacing event was approaching in my life.
It was a case of real auto-suggestion. Was it so serious because I thought it so? Or had I a presentiment? I do not know. Perhaps, too, after what has happened, all previous events have taken on a lugubrious tint in my memory.
"I arrived at the steps. It was an hour past midnight. A few isvotchiks were before the door, awaiting customers, attracted by the lighted windows (the lighted windows were those of our parlor and reception room). Without trying to account for this late illumination, I went up the steps, always with the same expectation of something terrible, and I rang. The servant, a good, industrious, and very stupid being, named Gregor, opened the door. The first thing that leaped to my eyes in the hall, on the hat-stand, among other garments, was an overcoat. I ought to have been astonished, but I was not astonished. I expected it.
"That"s it!" I said to myself.
"When I had asked Gregor who was there, and he had named Troukhatchevsky, I inquired whether there were other visitors. He answered: "n.o.body." I remember the air with which he said that, with a tone that was intended to give me pleasure, and dissipate my doubts.
"That"s it! that"s it!" I had the air of saying to myself. "And the children?"
""Thank G.o.d, they are very well. They went to sleep long ago."
"I scarcely breathed, and I could not keep my jaw from trembling.
"Then it was not as I thought. I had often before returned home with the thought that a misfortune had awaited me, but had been mistaken, and everything was going on as usual. But now things were not going on as usual. All that I had imagined, all that I believed to be chimeras, all really existed. Here was the truth.
"I was on the point of sobbing, but straightway the demon whispered in my ear: "Weep and be sentimental, and they will separate quietly, and there will be no proofs, and all your life you will doubt and suffer."
And pity for myself vanished, and there remained only the b.e.s.t.i.a.l need of some adroit, cunning, and energetic action. I became a beast, an intelligent beast.
""No, no," said I to Gregor, who was about to announce my arrival. "Do this, take a carriage, and go at once for my baggage. Here is the check.
Start."
"He went along the hall to get his overcoat. Fearing lest he might frighten them, I accompanied him to his little room, and waited for him to put on his things. In the dining-room could be heard the sound of conversation and the rattling of knives and plates. They were eating.
They had not heard the ring. "Now if they only do not go out," I thought.
"Gregor put on his fur-collared coat and went out. I closed the door after him. I felt anxious when I was alone, thinking that directly I should have to act. How? I did not yet know. I knew only that all was ended, that there could be no doubt of his innocence, and that in an instant my relations with her were going to be terminated. Before, I had still doubts. I said to myself: "Perhaps this is not true. Perhaps I am mistaken." Now all doubt had disappeared. All was decided irrevocably.
Secretly, all alone with him, at night! It is a violation of all duties!
Or, worse yet, she may make a show of that audacity, of that insolence in crime, which, by its excess, tends to prove innocence. All is clear.
No doubt. I feared but one thing,--that they might run in different directions, that they might invent some new lie, and thus deprive me of material proof, and of the sorrowful joy of punishing, yes, of executing them.
"And to surprise them more quickly, I started on tiptoe for the dining-room, not through the parlor, but through the hall and the children"s rooms. In the first room slept the little boy. In the second, the old nurse moved in her bed, and seemed on the point of waking, and I wondered what she would think when she knew all. And pity for myself gave me such a pang that I could not keep the tears back. Not to wake the children, I ran lightly through the hall into my study. I dropped upon the sofa, and sobbed. "I, an honest man, I, the son of my parents, who all my life long have dreamed of family happiness, I who have never betrayed! ... And here my five children, and she embracing a musician because he has red lips! No, she is not a woman! She is a b.i.t.c.h, a dirty b.i.t.c.h! Beside the chamber of the children, whom she had pretended to love all her life! And then to think of what she wrote me! And how do I know? Perhaps it has always been thus. Perhaps all these children, supposed to be mine, are the children of my servants. And if I had arrived to-morrow, she would have come to meet me with her coiffure, with her corsage, her indolent and graceful movements (and I see her attractive and ign.o.ble features), and this jealous animal would have remained forever in my heart, tearing it. What will the old nurse say?
And Gregor? And the poor little Lise? She already understands things.
And this impudence, this falsehood, this b.e.s.t.i.a.l sensuality, that I know so well," I said to myself.
"I tried to rise. I could not. My heart was beating so violently that I could not hold myself upon my legs. "Yes, I shall die of a rush of blood. She will kill me. That is what she wants. What is it to her to kill? But that would be too agreeable to him, and I will not allow him to have this pleasure.
"Yes, here I am, and there they are. They are laughing, they... . Yes, in spite of the fact that she is no longer in her early youth, he has not disdained her. At any rate, she is by no means ugly, and above all, not dangerous to his dear health, to him. Why did I not stifle her then?" said I to myself, as I remembered that other scene of the previous week, when I drove her from my study, and broke the furniture.
"And I recalled the state in which I was then. Not only did I recall it, but I again entered into the same b.e.s.t.i.a.l state. And suddenly there came to me a desire to act, and all reasoning, except such as was necessary to action, vanished from my brain, and I was in the condition of a beast, and of a man under the influence of physical excitement pending a danger, who acts imperturbably, without haste, and yet without losing a minute, pursuing a definite object.
"The first thing that I did was to take off my boots, and now, having only stockings on, I advanced toward the wall, over the sofa, where firearms and daggers were hanging, and I took down a curved Damascus blade, which I had never used, and which was very sharp. I took it from its sheath. I remember that the sheath fell upon the sofa, and that I said to myself: "I must look for it later; it must not be lost."
"Then I took off my overcoat, which I had kept on all the time, and with wolf-like tread started for THE ROOM. I do not remember how I proceeded, whether I ran or went slowly, through what chambers I pa.s.sed, how I approached the dining-room, how I opened the door, how I entered. I remember nothing about it."
CHAPTER XXVII.
"I Remember only the expression of their faces when I opened the door. I remember that, because it awakened in me a feeling of sorrowful joy.
It was an expression of terror, such as I desired. Never shall I forget that desperate and sudden fright that appeared on their faces when they saw me. He, I believe, was at the table, and, when he saw or heard me, he started, jumped to his feet, and retreated to the sideboard. Fear was the only sentiment that could be read with certainty in his face.
In hers, too, fear was to be read, but accompanied by other impressions.
And yet, if her face had expressed only fear, perhaps that which happened would not have happened. But in the expression of her face there was at the first moment--at least, I thought I saw it--a feeling of ennui, of discontent, at this disturbance of her love and happiness.
One would have said that her sole desire was not to be disturbed IN THE MOMENT OF HER HAPPINESS. But these expressions appeared upon their faces only for a moment. Terror almost immediately gave place to interrogation. Would they lie or not? If yes, they must begin. If not, something else was going to happen. But what?
"He gave her a questioning glance. On her face the expression of anguish and ennui changed, it seemed to me, when she looked at him, into an expression of anxiety for HIM. For a moment I stood in the doorway, holding the dagger hidden behind my back. Suddenly he smiled, and in a voice that was indifferent almost to the point of ridicule, he said:
""We were having some music."
""I did not expect--," she began at the same time, chiming in with the tone of the other.
"But neither he nor she finished their remarks. The same rage that I had felt the previous week took possession of me. I felt the need of giving free course to my violence and "the joy of wrath."
"No, they did not finish. That other thing was going to begin, of which he was afraid, and was going to annihilate what they wanted to say.
I threw myself upon her, still hiding the dagger, that he might not prevent me from striking where I desired, in her bosom, under the breast. At that moment he saw ... and, what I did not expect on his part, he quickly seized my hand, and cried:
""Come to your senses! What are you doing? Help! Help!"
"I tore my hands from his grasp, and leaped upon him. I must have been very terrible, for he turned as white as a sheet, to his lips. His eyes scintillated singularly, and--again what I did not expect of him--he scrambled under the piano, toward the other room. I tried to follow him, but a very heavy weight fell upon my left arm. It was she.
"I made an effort to clear myself. She clung more heavily than ever, refusing to let go. This unexpected obstacle, this burden, and this repugnant touch only irritated me the more. I perceived that I was completely mad, that I must be frightful, and I was glad of it. With a sudden impulse, and with all my strength, I dealt her, with my left elbow, a blow squarely in the face.
"She uttered a cry and let go my arm. I wanted to follow the other, but I felt that it would be ridiculous to pursue in my stockings the lover of my wife, and I did not wish to be grotesque, I wished to be terrible.
In spite of my extreme rage, I was all the time conscious of the impression that I was making upon others, and even this impression partially guided me.
"I turned toward her. She had fallen on the long easy chair, and, covering her face at the spot where I had struck her, she looked at me.
Her features exhibited fear and hatred toward me, her enemy, such as the rat exhibits when one lifts the rat-trap. At least, I saw nothing in her but that fear and hatred, the fear and hatred which love for another had provoked. Perhaps I still should have restrained myself, and should not have gone to the last extremity, if she had maintained silence. But suddenly she began to speak; she grasped my hand that held the dagger.
""Come to your senses! What are you doing? What is the matter with you?
Nothing has happened, nothing, nothing! I swear it to you!"
"I might have delayed longer, but these last words, from which I inferred the contrary of what they affirmed,--that is, that EVERYTHING had happened,--these words called for a reply. And the reply must correspond to the condition into which I had lashed myself, and which was increasing and must continue to increase. Rage has its laws.
""Do not lie, wretch. Do not lie!" I roared.