<strong>Notes</strong> <strong>from</strong> <strong>the</strong> <strong>Underground</strong>aside to make way for generals, for officers of <strong>the</strong> guards and<strong>the</strong> hussars, or for ladies. At such minutes <strong>the</strong>re used to be aconvulsive twinge at my heart, and I used to feel hot all downmy back at <strong>the</strong> mere thought of <strong>the</strong> wretchedness of my attire,of <strong>the</strong> wretchedness and abjectness of my little scurryingfigure. This was a regular martyrdom, a continual, intolerablehumiliation at <strong>the</strong> thought, which passed into an incessantand direct sensation, that I was a mere fly in <strong>the</strong> eyesof all this world, a nasty, disgusting fly—more intelligent,more highly developed, more refined in feeling than any of<strong>the</strong>m, of course—but a fly that was continually making wayfor everyone, insulted and injured by everyone. Why I inflictedthis torture upon myself, why I went to <strong>the</strong> Nevsky, Idon’t know. I felt simply drawn <strong>the</strong>re at every possible opportunity.Already <strong>the</strong>n I began to experience a rush of <strong>the</strong> enjoymentof which I spoke in <strong>the</strong> first chapter. After my affairwith <strong>the</strong> officer I felt even more drawn <strong>the</strong>re than before: itwas on <strong>the</strong> Nevsky that I met him most frequently, <strong>the</strong>re Icould admire him. He, too, went <strong>the</strong>re chiefly on holidays,He, too, turned out of his path for generals and persons ofDostoyevskyhigh rank, and he too, wriggled between <strong>the</strong>m like an eel;but people, like me, or even better dressed than me, he simplywalked over; he made straight for <strong>the</strong>m as though <strong>the</strong>rewas nothing but empty space before him, and never, underany circumstances, turned aside. I gloated over my resentmentwatching him and … always resentfully made way forhim. It exasperated me that even in <strong>the</strong> street I could not beon an even footing with him.“Why must you invariably be <strong>the</strong> first to move aside?” Ikept asking myself in hysterical rage, waking up sometimesat three o’clock in <strong>the</strong> morning. “Why is it you and not he?There’s no regulation about it; <strong>the</strong>re’s no written law. Let <strong>the</strong>making way be equal as it usually is when refined peoplemeet; he moves halfway and you move half-way; you passwith mutual respect.”But that never happened, and I always moved aside, whilehe did not even notice my making way for him. And lo andbehold a bright idea dawned upon me! “What,” I thought,“if I meet him and don’t move on one side? What if I don’tmove aside on purpose, even if I knock up against him? Howwould that be?” This audacious idea took such a hold on me44
<strong>Notes</strong> <strong>from</strong> <strong>the</strong> <strong>Underground</strong>that it gave me no peace. I was dreaming of it continually,horribly, and I purposely went more frequently to <strong>the</strong> Nevskyin order to picture more vividly how I should do it when Idid do it. I was delighted. This intention seemed to me moreand more practical and possible.“Of course I shall not really push him,” I thought, alreadymore good-natured in my joy. “I will simply not turn aside,will run up against him, not very violently, but just shoulderingeach o<strong>the</strong>r—just as much as decency permits. I willpush against him just as much as he pushes against me.” Atlast I made up my mind completely. But my preparationstook a great deal of time. To begin with, when I carried outmy plan I should need to be looking ra<strong>the</strong>r more decent,and so I had to think of my get-up. “In case of emergency, if,for instance, <strong>the</strong>re were any sort of public scandal (and <strong>the</strong>public <strong>the</strong>re is of <strong>the</strong> most recherche: <strong>the</strong> Countess walks<strong>the</strong>re; Prince D. walks <strong>the</strong>re; all <strong>the</strong> literary world is <strong>the</strong>re), Imust be well dressed; that inspires respect and of itself putsus on an equal footing in <strong>the</strong> eyes of <strong>the</strong> society.”With this object I asked for some of my salary in advance,and bought at Tchurkin’s a pair of black gloves and a decentDostoyevskyhat. Black gloves seemed to me both more dignified and bonton than <strong>the</strong> lemon-coloured ones which I had contemplatedat first. “The colour is too gaudy, it looks as though one weretrying to be conspicuous,” and I did not take <strong>the</strong> lemoncolouredones. I had got ready long beforehand a good shirt,with white bone studs; my overcoat was <strong>the</strong> only thing tha<strong>the</strong>ld me back. The coat in itself was a very good one, it keptme warm; but it was wadded and it had a raccoon collarwhich was <strong>the</strong> height of vulgarity. I had to change <strong>the</strong> collarat any sacrifice, and to have a beaver one like an officer’s. Forthis purpose I began visiting <strong>the</strong> Gostiny Dvor and after severalattempts I pitched upon a piece of cheap German beaver.Though <strong>the</strong>se German beavers soon grow shabby andlook wretched, yet at first <strong>the</strong>y look exceedingly well, and Ionly needed it for <strong>the</strong> occasion. I asked <strong>the</strong> price; even so, itwas too expensive. After thinking it over thoroughly I decidedto sell my raccoon collar. The rest of <strong>the</strong> money—aconsiderable sum for me, I decided to borrow <strong>from</strong> AntonAntonitch Syetotchkin, my immediate superior, an unassumingperson, though grave and judicious. He never lent moneyto anyone, but I had, on entering <strong>the</strong> service, been specially45
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