“Vasin,” I said in the morning, already past five o’clock, “if it hadn’t been for your Stebelkov, maybe this woudn’t have happened.”
“Who knows, it probably would. It’s impossible to judge like that here, it was all prepared for even without that . . . True, this Stebelkov sometimes . . .”
He didn’t finish and winced very unpleasantly. Before seven he went out again; he kept bustling about. I was finally left completely alone. Dawn had broken. My head was spinning slightly. I kept imagining Versilov; this lady’s story presented him in a totally different light. To think it over more comfortably, I lay down on Vasin’s bed, as I was, dressed and with my boots on, for a moment, with no intention of sleeping—and suddenly fell asleep. I don’t even remember how it happened. I slept for nearly four hours; nobody woke me up.
Chapter Ten
I
I WOKE UP at around half-past ten and for a long time could not believe my eyes: on the sofa where I had slept the night before sat my mother, and beside her—the unfortunate neighbor, the mother of the suicide. They were holding each other’s hands, speaking in whispers, probably so as not to wake me up, and both were weeping. I got out of bed and rushed straight to kiss mama. She beamed all over, kissed me, and crossed me three times with her right hand. We had no time to say a word: the door opened, and Versilov and Vasin came in. Mama stood up at once and took the neighbor with her. Vasin gave me his hand, but Versilov didn’t say a word to me and lowered himself into an armchair. He and mama had evidently been there for some time. His face was somber and preoccupied.
“I regret most of all,” he began saying measuredly to Vasin, obviously continuing a conversation already begun, “that I didn’t manage to settle it last evening, and—surely this dreadful thing wouldn’t have come about! And there was time enough: it wasn’t eight o’clock yet. As soon as she ran away from us last night, I at once resolved mentally to follow her here and reassure her, but this unforeseen and urgent matter, which, however, I could very well have put off until today . . . or even for a week—this vexatious matter hindered and ruined everything. That things should come together like that!”
“But maybe you wouldn’t have managed to reassure her; even without you, it seems a lot was seething and smoldering there,” Vasin remarked in passing.
“No, I’d have managed, I’d surely have managed. And the thought occurred to me of sending Sofya Andreevna in my place. It flashed, but only flashed. Sofya Andreevna alone would have won her over, and the unfortunate girl would have remained alive. No, never again will I meddle . . . with ‘good deeds’ . . . Just once in my life I tried meddling! And here I’m thinking that I haven’t lagged behind your generation and understand contemporary youth. Yes, our old folk grow old almost before they mature. Incidentally, there are actually an awful lot of people nowadays who, out of habit, still consider themselves the younger generation, because yesterday they still were, and they don’t notice that they’re already verbannte.” 30
“A misunderstanding occurred here, all too clear a misunderstanding,” Vasin observed sensibly. “Her mother says that after the cruel insult in the public house, it was as if she lost her mind. Add to that the surroundings, the original insult from the merchant . . . all this could have happened in the same way in former times, and I don’t think it’s in any way especially characteristic of present-day youth.”