All this, of course, affected him in a lamentable fashion.
Particularly disagreeable was yet another observation: Ivan Ilyich was fully convinced that he was beginning to articulate words somehow unclearly and with difficulty, that he wanted to say a great deal, but his tongue would not move. Then, that he had suddenly begun as if to forget himself and, above all, out of the blue, would suddenly snort and laugh when there was nothing at all to laugh at. This disposition quickly passed after a glass of champagne, which Ivan Ilyich, though he had poured it for himself, had no wish to drink, but suddenly drank somehow quite accidentally. After this glass, he suddenly almost wanted to weep. He felt he was lapsing into the most peculiar sentimentality; he was beginning to love again, to love everybody, even Pseldonymov, even the collaborator on The Firebrand. He suddenly wanted to embrace them all, to forget everything and make peace. Not only that: to tell them everything frankly, everything, everything, that is, what a kind and nice man he was, with what excellent abilities. How he was going to be useful to the fatherland, how he was able to make the fair sex laugh, and, above all, what a progressist he was, how humanely he was prepared to condescend to everyone, to the most lowly, and, finally, in conclusion, to tell frankly the whole motive that had induced him to come, uninvited, to Pseldonymov’s, drink two bottles of champagne, and overjoy them with his presence.
“The truth, the sacred truth first of all, and frankness! I’ll get them with frankness. They’ll believe me, I see it clearly; they even look hostile, but when I reveal everything to them, I’ll subject them irresistibly. They’ll fill their glasses and, with a shout, drink my health. The officer, I’m sure of it, will break his glass on his spur. There may even be a shout of ‘hurrah!’ Even if they should decide to toss me hussar fashion, I wouldn’t resist, it would even be rather nice. I’ll kiss the bride on the forehead; she’s a sweetie. Akim Petrovich is also a very good man. Pseldonymov, of course, will improve in time. He lacks, so to speak, this worldly polish… And though, of course, this whole new generation lacks this delicacy of heart, but… but I’ll tell them about the modern destiny of Russia among the other European powers. I’ll mention the peasant question, too, yes, and… and they’ll all love me, and I’ll come out with glory!…”
These dreams were, of course, very pleasant, but the unpleasant thing was that amid all these rosy hopes Ivan Ilyich suddenly discovered in himself yet another unexpected ability: namely, spitting. At least the saliva suddenly began leaping from his mouth quite regardless of his will. He noticed it because Akim Petrovich, whose cheek he had sprayed, was sitting there not daring, out of deference, to wipe it off right away. Ivan Ilyich took a napkin and suddenly wiped it off himself. But this at once appeared so preposterous to him, so beyond anything reasonable, that he fell silent and began to be surprised. Akim Petrovich, though he had been drinking, sat all the same as if he were in shock. Ivan Ilyich now realized that, for almost a quarter of an hour already, he had been telling him about some most interesting topic, but that Akim Petrovich, while listening to him, was as if not only embarrassed, but even afraid of something. Pseldonymov, who was sitting two chairs away, also kept stretching his neck toward him, his head inclined to one side, listening with a most disagreeable air. He actually was as if keeping watch on him. Glancing around at the guests, he saw that many were looking straight at him and guffawing. But the strangest thing of all was that this did not embarrass him in the least; on the contrary, he sipped once more from his glass and suddenly started speaking for all to hear.
“I was saying!” he began as loudly as he could, “gentlemen, I was just saying to Akim Petrovich that Russia… yes, precisely Russia… in short, you understand what I mean to sa-sa-say… Russia, in my deepest conviction, experiences hu-humaneness…”
“Hu-humaneness!” came from the other end of the table.
“Hu-hu!”
“Coo-coo!”
Ivan Ilyich paused. Pseldonymov rose from his chair and started peering: who had shouted? Akim Petrovich was covertly shaking his head, as if admonishing the guests. Ivan Ilyich noticed it very well, but painfully held his tongue.
“Humaneness!” he went on stubbornly. “And this evening… and precisely this evening I was saying to Stepan Niki-ki-forovich… yes… that… that the renewal, so to speak, of things…”
“Your Excellency!” came loudly from the other end of the table.
“What can I do for you?” the interrupted Ivan Ilyich replied, trying to make out who had shouted.
“Precisely nothing, Your Excellency, I got carried away, please continue, con-tin-ue!” the voice came again.
Ivan Ilyich winced.
“The renewal, so to speak, of these very things…”
“Your Excellency!” the voice shouted again.
“What is it you want?”
“Hello there!”
This time Ivan Ilyich could not restrain himself. He interrupted his speech and turned to the offender and violator of order. This was a still very young student, totally crocked and arousing enormous suspicion. He had been hollering for a long time and even broke a glass and two plates, insisting that that was what was done at weddings. At the same moment that Ivan Ilyich turned to him, the officer began to reprimand the shouter sternly.
“What’s with you, why are you hollering? You ought to be taken out, that’s what!”
“It’s not about you, Your Excellency, it’s not about you! Do continue!” shouted the merrymaking schoolboy, sprawling on his chair. “Do continue, I’m listening and I’m very, ve-ry, ve-ry pleased with you! Pra-aiseworthy, pra-aiseworthy!”
“A drunken brat!” Pseldonymov prompted in a whisper.
“I can see he’s drunk, but…”
“It’s that I just told an amusing anecdote, Your Excellency!” the officer began. “About a certain lieutenant of our command, who had exactly that way of talking to superiors; so now he’s imitating him. To every word of his superior, he would add: pra-aiseworthy, pra-aiseworthy! He was expelled from the service for it ten years ago.”
“Wha-what lieutenant is that?”
“From our command, Your Excellency, he went mad over this praiseworthy. First they admonished him with milder measures, then they put him under arrest… His superior officer admonished him like a father; and all he said was: pra-aiseworthy, pra-aiseworthy! And it’s strange: he was a courageous officer, six foot six. They wanted to court-martial him, but noticed that he was crazy.”
“Meaning… a prankster. For prankishness they shouldn’t be so severe… I, for my part, am ready to forgive…”
“There was medical evidence, Your Excellency.”