XVIII
But how could he withdraw? His former game of making believe offended, of exhibiting some mean feature of his character so as to depend upon it, would not work; twice to perform the same trick is impossible; a second performance like the first would only have revealed the design of the first, would have shown him up as the hero not only of the new, but also of the former affair. Yes; and generally speaking, it is necessary to avoid any abrupt cessation of relations. Such an avoidance would be easier, but it would be theatrical; it would arouse attention, that is, at the present time it would be mean and contemptible, or, according to Kirsánof’s theory of egotism, it would be a stupid miscalculation. And so there remained only one, and the most tormenting means, that is, an unobtrusive renunciation carried out in a slow and unnoticeable manner, so that it might not be seen that he was giving them up. This action is very difficult; it requires great tact to disappear from sight so that your motion is not noticed, when you are watched by bright eyes; but it could not be helped; he had to do in this way. However, according to Kirsánof’s theory, it was not tormenting at all, but rather agreeable; for the harder a deed is to accomplish, the gladder you are (on the selfish theory) at the strength and skill which you have shown while successfully accomplishing it.
And, indeed, he fulfilled it successfully; he did not betray his attention by one word too much or one word too little, or by a look; as before, he was free and jocular with Viéra Pavlovna; as before, he made it evident that he enjoyed her society, but there appeared various things to hinder his coming to the Lopukhófs’ as often as before, or remaining there a whole evening as before, and the result was that Lopukhóf had to seize him more often than before, by his arm or the lapel of his coat, with the words, “No, old fellow, you can’t get rid of this discussion so easily”; and by far the larger part of the time that Kirsánof spent at the Lopukhófs’ he tried to stay by his friend’s sofa. And everything was arranged so gradually that it was not noticed at all how the change was developing. Interruptions came along, and Kirsánof not only brought them up as excuses, but, moreover, was sorry (this did not happen every time, for too great show of sorrow would not do) that such an interruption happened. And these interruptions seemed to be so natural, so unavoidable, that the Lopukhófs themselves pushed him from the house reminding him that he had forgotten his promise to be at home, because such and such an acquaintance, whom he ought to see, was coming to his house. Or he forgot that if he did not call today on such and such a person, such and such a person would be offended; or he had forgotten that he ought to work for at least four hours, and ought he not to sleep a little tonight in preparation for it? Why, it’s ten o’clock already, and he must not talk any more; he must go and take up his work. Kirsánof, moreover, did not always listen to them when they reminded him; he would not go to see his acquaintances, he would let his friend get angry, or the work would not run away, so he would spend the evening with them. But these interruptions kept growing more frequent, and scientific operations began to steal unmercifully one evening after another from Kirsánof. They might go to the deuce, according to his opinion (and sometimes he used to say this aloud); that is, his scientific occupations or his acquaintances have been imposing upon him more than usual; how they did impose upon him! (This also he used to say aloud.) And so it seemed to him—and the Lopukhófs saw very well how it was—that he was getting to be very popular, and so there always came up more and more people to whom he was necessary; and then he must not treat his work carelessly, for there was no excuse for his being so lazy; and, indeed, he had been very lazy during the last few months, and it would be hard for him to begin work again; “But you must work, brother Aleksandr,” and she would say, “It’s time, Aleksandr Matvéitch.”
The maneuver was a difficult one; for week after week it was necessary to prolong this wheeling “to the left and around,” and the turn was made so slowly, so steadily, like the hands of a clock. Look at it as attentively as you please; you cannot see that it is turning, but it does its work silently; it steadily goes away from its former position. And what pleasure Kirsánof, as a theorist, had in watching his skill in putting this into practice. Egotists and materialists act only for their own pleasure! And
