<p><SPAN name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"></SPAN></p>
<h2> CHAPTER XXVI. </h2>
<p>"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 passing 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?</p>
<p>"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.</p>
<p>"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.</p>
<p>"When I had asked Gregor who was there, and he had named Troukhatchevsky,
I inquired whether there were other visitors. He answered: 'Nobody.' 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?'</p>
<p>"'Thank God, they are very well. They went to sleep long ago.'</p>
<p>"I scarcely breathed, and I could not keep my jaw from trembling.</p>
<p>"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.</p>
<p>"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 bestial need of some
adroit, cunning, and energetic action. I became a beast, an intelligent
beast.</p>
<p>"'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.'</p>
<p>"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.</p>
<p>"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.</p>
<p>"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 bitch, a dirty bitch! 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 ignoble 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
bestial sensuality, that I know so well,' I said to myself.</p>
<p>"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.</p>
<p>"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.</p>
<p>"And I recalled the state in which I was then. Not only did I recall it,
but I again entered into the same bestial 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.</p>
<p>"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.'</p>
<p>"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 passed, how I
approached the dining-room, how I opened the door, how I entered. I
remember nothing about it."</p>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />