Kister could not get to sleep before the morning.
With feverish persistence he turned over and over
and thought over and over the same single idea—an
occupation only too well known to unhappy lovers.
‘Even if Lutchkov doesn’t care for her,’
he mused, ’if she has flung herself at his head,
anyway he ought not even with me, with his friend,
to speak so disrespectfully, so offensively of her!
In what way is she to blame? How could any one
have no feeling for a poor, inexperienced girl?
’But can she really have a secret appointment
with him? She has—yes, she certainly
has. Avdey’s not a liar, he never tells
a lie. But perhaps it means nothing, a mere freak....
’But she does not know him.... He is capable,
I dare say, of insulting her. After to-day, I
wouldn’t answer for anything.... And wasn’t
it I myself that praised him up and exalted him?
Wasn’t it I who excited her curiosity?...
But who could have known this? Who could have
foreseen it?...
’Foreseen what? Has he so long ceased to
be my friend?... But, after all, was he ever
my friend? What a disenchantment! What a
lesson!’
All the past turned round and round before Kister’s
eyes. ’Yes, I did like him,’ he whispered
at last. ’Why has my liking cooled so suddenly?...
And do I dislike him? No, why did I ever like
him? I alone?’
Kister’s loving heart had attached itself to
Avdey for the very reason that all the rest avoided
him. But the good-hearted youth did not know
himself how great his good-heartedness was.
‘My duty,’ he went on, ’is to warn
Marya Sergievna. But how? What right have
I to interfere in other people’s affairs, in
other people’s love? How do I know the
nature of that love? Perhaps even in Lutchkov....
No, no!’ he said aloud, with irritation, almost
with tears, smoothing out his pillow, ’that
man’s stone....
’It is my own fault... I have lost a friend....
A precious friend, indeed! And she’s not
worth much either!... What a sickening egoist
I am! No, no! from the bottom of my soul I wish
them happiness.... Happiness! but he is laughing
at her!... And why does he dye his moustaches?
I do, really, believe he does.... Ah, how ridiculous
I am!’ he repeated, as he fell asleep.
The next morning Kister went to call on the Perekatovs.
When they met, Kister noticed a great change in Masha,
and Masha, too, found a change in him, but neither
spoke of it. The whole morning they both, contrary
to their habit, felt uncomfortable. Kister had
prepared at home a number of hints and phrases of
double meaning and friendly counsels... but all this
previous preparation turned out to be quite thrown
away. Masha was vaguely aware that Kister was
watching her; she fancied that he pronounced some
words with intentional significance; but she was conscious,
too, of her own excitement, and did not trust her own
