that Anna Karenina threw herself under a train, and that they tar people’s gates in the villages, and that you and I, for some unknown reason, like Katya’s purity, and that everyone vaguely feels the need for pure love, though he knows that such love doesn’t exist—is all that a prejudice? That, brother, is all that’s left of natural selection, and if it weren’t for this obscure force that regulates relations between the sexes, the Messers Laevsky would show us what o’clock it is, and mankind would turn degenerate in two years.’’
Laevsky came into the drawing room; he greeted everyone and, shaking von Koren’s hand, gave him an ingratiating smile. He waited for an opportune moment and said to Samoilenko:
‘‘Excuse me, Alexander Davidych, I must have a couple of words with you.’’
Samoilenko got up, put his arm around his waist, and the two went to Nikodim Alexandrych’s study.
‘‘Tomorrow is Friday ...’ said Laevsky, biting his nails. ‘‘Did you get what you promised?’’
‘‘I got only two hundred and ten. I’ll get the rest today or tomorrow. Don’t worry.’’
‘‘Thank God! ...’ sighed Laevsky, and his hands trembled with joy. ‘‘You are saving me, Alexander Davidych, and, I swear to you by God, by my happiness, and by whatever you like, I’ll send you this money as soon as I get there. And the old debt as well.’’
‘‘Look here, Vanya ...’ said Samoilenko, taking him by a button and blushing. ‘‘Excuse me for interfering in your family affairs, but ... why don’t you take Nadezhda Fyodorovna with you?’’
‘‘You odd fellow, how could I? One of us certainly has to stay, otherwise my creditors will start howling. I owe some seven hundred roubles in various shops, if not more. Wait, I’ll send them the money, stick it in their teeth, and then she can leave here.’’
‘Well... But why don’t you send her on ahead?’’
‘‘Ah, my God, how can I?’’ Laevsky was horrified. ‘‘She’s a woman, what will she do there alone? What does she understand? It would just be a loss of time and an unnecessary waste of money.’’
‘Reasonable ...’ thought Samoilenko, but he remembered his conversation with von Koren, looked down, and said sullenly:
‘‘I can’t agree with you. Either go with her or send her on ahead, otherwise ... otherwise I won’t give you the money. That is my final word...’
He backed up, collided with the door, and went out into the drawing room red-faced, in terrible embarrassment.
‘‘Friday . . . Friday,’’ thought Laevsky, returning to the drawing room. ‘‘Friday . . .’’
He was handed a cup of chocolate. He burned his lips and tongue with the hot chocolate and thought:
‘‘Friday . . . Friday . . .’’
For some reason, he could not get the word ‘‘Friday’’ out of his head; he thought of nothing but Friday, and the only thing clear to him, not in his head but somewhere under his heart, was that he was not to leave on Saturday. Before him stood Nikodim Alexandrych, neat, his hair brushed forward on his temples, and begging him:
‘‘Eat something, I humbly beg you, sir . . .’’
Marya Konstantinovna showed her guests Katya’s grades, saying in a drawn-out manner:
‘‘Nowadays it’s terribly, terribly difficult to study! So many requirements . . .’’
‘‘Mama!’’ moaned Katya, not knowing where to hide from embarrassment and praise.
Laevsky also looked at her grades and praised her. Bible studies, Russian, conduct, A’s and B’s began leaping in his eyes, and all of it, together with the importunate Friday, Nikodim Alexandrych’s brushed-up temples, and Katya’s red cheeks, stood before him as such boundless, invincible boredom that he almost cried out in despair and asked himself: ‘‘Can it be, can it be that I won’t leave?’’
They set two card tables next to each other and sat down to play postman’s knock. Laevsky also sat down.
‘‘Friday . . . Friday . . .’’ he thought, smiling and taking a pencil from his pocket. ‘‘Friday . . .’’
He wanted to think over his situation and was afraid to think. It frightened him to admit that the doctor had caught him in the deception he had so long and so thoroughly concealed from himself. Each time he thought of his future, he did not give free rein to his thoughts. He would get on the train and go—that solved the problem of his life, and he did not let his thoughts go any further. Like a faint, far-off light in a field, from time to time the thought glimmered in his head that somewhere, in one of Petersburg’s lanes, in the distant future, in order to break with Nadezhda Fyodorovna and pay his debts, he would have to resort to a small lie. He would lie only once, and then a complete renewal would come. And that was good: at the cost of a small lie, he would buy a big truth.
Now, though, when the doctor crudely hinted at the deceit by his refusal, it became clear to him that he would need the lie not only in the distant future but today, and tomorrow, and in a month, and maybe even to the end of his life. Indeed, in order to leave, he would have to lie to Nadezhda Fyodorovna, his creditors, and his superiors; then, in order to get money in Petersburg, he would have to lie to his mother and tell her he had already broken with Nadezhda Fyodorovna; and his mother would not give him more than five hundred roubles—meaning that he had already deceived the doctor, because he would not be able to send him the money soon. Then, when Nadezhda Fyodorovna came to Petersburg, he would have to resort to a whole series of small and large deceptions in order to break with her; and again there would be tears, boredom, a hateful life, remorse, and thus no renewal at all. Deception and nothing more. A whole mountain of lies grew in Laevsky’s imagination. To leap over it at one jump, and not lie piecemeal, he would have to resolve upon a stiff measure—for instance, without saying a word, to get up from his place, put on his hat, and leave straightaway without money, without a word said, but Laevsky felt that this was impossible for him.
‘‘Friday, Friday . . .’’ he thought. ‘‘Friday . . .’’
They wrote notes, folded them in two, and put them in Nikodim Alexandrych’s old top hat, and when enough notes had accumulated, Kostya, acting as postman, went around the table handing them out. The deacon, Katya, and Kostya, who received funny notes and tried to write something funny, were delighted.
‘‘We must have a talk,’’ Nadezhda Fyodorovna read in her note. She exchanged glances with Marya Konstantinovna, who gave her almond-butter smile and nodded her head.
