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She warmly and rapturously embraced me。
X
A quarter of an hour later I was rushing up and down the room in
frenzied impatience； from minute to minute I went up to the
screen and peeped through the crack at Liza。 She was sitting on
the floor with her head leaning against the bed； and must have
been crying。 But she did not go away； and that irritated me。
This time she understood it all。 I had insulted her finally；
but。。。there's no need to describe it。 She realised that my
outburst of passion had been simply revenge； a fresh humiliation；
and that to my earlier； almost causeless hatred was added now a
_personal hatred_； born of envy。。。。Though I do not maintain
positively that she understood all this distinctly； but she
certainly did fully understand that I was a despicable man； and
what was worse； incapable of loving her。
I know I shall be told that this is incrediblebut it is
incredible to be as spiteful and stupid as I was； it may be added
that it was strange I should not love her； or at any rate；
appreciate her love。 Why is it strange？ In the first place； by
then I was incapable of love； for I repeat； with me loving meant
tyrannising and showing my moral superiority。 I have never in my
life been able to imagine any other sort of love； and have
nowadays come to the point of sometimes thinking that love really
consists in the rightfreely given by the beloved objectto
tyrannise over her。
Even in my underground dreams I did not imagine love except as a
struggle。 I began it always with hatred and ended it with moral
subjugation； and afterwards I never knew what to do with the
subjugated object。 And what is there to wonder at in that； since
I had succeeded in so corrupting myself； since I was so out of
touch with 〃real life；〃 as to have actually thought of
reproaching her； and putting her to shame for having come to me
to hear 〃fine sentiments〃； and did not even guess that she had
come not to hear fine sentiments； but to love me； because to a
woman all reformation； all salvation from any sort of ruin； and
all moral renewal is included in love and can only show itself in
that form。
I did not hate her so much； however； when I was running about the
room and peeping through the crack in the screen。 I was only
insufferably oppressed by her being here。 I wanted her to
disappear。 I wanted 〃peace；〃 to be left alone in my underground
world。 Real life oppressed me with its novelty so much that I
could hardly breathe。
But several minutes passed and she still remained； without
stirring； as though she were unconscious。 I had the
shamelessness to tap softly at the screen as though to remind
her。。。。She started； sprang up； and flew to seek her kerchief； her
hat； her coat； as though making her escape from me。。。。Two minutes
later she came from behind the screen and looked with heavy eyes
at me。 I gave a spiteful grin； which was forced； however； to
_keep up appearances_； and I turned away from her eyes。
〃Good…bye；〃 she said； going towards the door。
I ran up to her； seized her hand； opened it； thrust something in
it and closed it again。 Then I turned at once and dashed away in
haste to the other corner of the room to avoid seeing； anyway。。。。
I did mean a moment since to tell a lieto write that I did this
accidentally； not knowing what I was doing through foolishness；
through losing my head。 But I don't want to lie； and so I will
say straight out that I opened her hand and put the money in
it。。。from spite。 It came into my head to do this while I was
running up and down the room and she was sitting behind the
screen。 But this I can say for certain： though I did that cruel
thing purposely； it was not an impulse from the heart； but came
from my evil brain。 This cruelty was so affected； so purposely
made up； so completely a product of the brain； of books； that I
could not even keep it up a minutefirst I dashed away to avoid
seeing her； and then in shame and despair rushed after Liza。 I
opened the door in the passage and began listening。
〃Liza！ Liza！〃 I cried on the stairs； but in a low voice； not
boldly。
There was no answer； but I fancied I heard her footsteps； lower
down on the stairs。
〃Liza！〃 I cried； more loudly。
No answer。 But at that minute I heard the stiff outer glass door
open heavily with a creak and slam violently； the sound echoed up
the stairs。
She had gone。 I went back to my room in hesitation。 I felt
horribly oppressed。
I stood still at the table； beside the chair on which she had sat
and looked aimlessly before me。 A minute passed； suddenly I
started； straight before me on the table I saw 。。。。 In short； I
saw a crumpled blue five…rouble note； the one I had thrust into
her hand a minute before。 It was the same note； it could be no
other； there was no other in the flat。 So she had managed to
fling it from her hand on the table at the moment when I had
dashed into the further corner。
Well！ I might have expected that she would do that。 Might I
have expected it？ No； I was such an egoist； I was so lacking in
respect for my fellow…creatures that I could not even imagine she
would do so。 I could not endure it。 A minute later I flew like
a madman to dress； flinging on what I could at random and ran
headlong after her。 She could not have got two hundred paces
away when I ran out into the street。
It was a still night and the snow was coming down in masses and
falling almost perpendicularly； covering the pavement and the
empty street as though with a pillow。 There was no one in the
street； no sound was to be heard。 The street lamps gave a
disconsolate and useless glimmer。 I ran two hundred paces to the
cross…roads and stopped short。
Where had she gone？ And why was I running after her？
Why？ To fall down before her； to sob with remorse； to kiss her
feet； to entreat her forgiveness！ I longed for that； my whole
breast was being rent to pieces； and never； never shall I recall
that minute with indifference。 Butwhat for？ I thought。
Should I not begin to hate her； perhaps； even tomorrow； just
because I had kissed her feet today？ Should I give her
happiness？ Had I not recognised that day； for the hundredth
time； what I was worth？ Should I not torture her？
I stood in the snow； gazing into the troubled darkness and
pondered this。
〃And will it not be better？〃 I mused fantastically； afterwards at
home； stifling the living pang of my heart with fantastic dreams。
〃Will it not be better that she should keep the resentment of the
insult for ever？ Resentmentwhy； it is purification； it is a
most stinging and painful consciousness！ Tomorrow I should have
defiled her soul and have exhausted her heart； while now the
feeling of insult will never die in her heart； and however
loathsome the filth awaiting herthe feeling of insult will
elevate and purify her。。。by hatred。。。h'm！。。。perhaps； too； by
f