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the flat face； the surly mouth； the broad base of the head； and the
huge bull…like neck。 Would not anyone say Ivan was as destructive
as a panther； as tenacious as a bull…dog； as brutal as a bull？ Yet
he is the gentlest of sluggish creatures； and as tender…hearted as
a girl！ That thick…set muscular frame shrouds a hare's heart。 He
is so faithful and so attached that I believe for me he would risk
his life； but on no account could you get him to place himself in
danger on his own account。 Part of his love for me is gratitude
for having rescued him from the conscription： the dangers incident
to a military life had no charm for him！〃
Now； although Bourgonef； who was not a phrenologist； might be
convinced of the absence of ferocious instincts in Ivan； to me； as
a phrenologist； the statement was eminently incredible。 All the
appearances of his manner were such as to confirm his master's
opinion。 He was quiet； even tender in his attentions。 But the
tyrannous influence of ideas and physical impressions cannot be set
aside； and no evidence would permanently have kept down my distrust
of this man。 When women shriek at the sight of a gun； it is in
vain that you solemnly assure them that the gun is not loaded。 〃I
don't know；〃 they reply；〃at any rate； I don't like it。〃 I was
much in this attitude with regard to Ivan。 He might be harmless。
I didn't know that； what I did know wasthat I didn't like his
looks。
On this night he was moving noiselessly about the room； employed in
packing。 Bourgonef's talk rambled over the old themes； and I
thought I had never before met with one of my own age whose society
was so perfectly delightful。 He was not so conspicuously my
superior on all points that I felt the restraints inevitably
imposed by superiority； yet he was in many respects sufficiently
above me in knowledge and power to make me eager to have his assent
to my views where we differed； and to have him enlighten me where I
knew myself to be weak。
In the very moment of my most cordial admiration came a shock。
Ivan； on passing from one part of the room to the other； caught his
foot in the strap of the portmanteau and fell。 The small wooden
box； something of a glove…box； which he held in his hand at the
time； fell on the floor； and falling over； discharged its contents
close to Bourgonef's feet。 The objects which caught my eyes were
several pairs of gloves； a rouge…pot and hare's foot； and a black
beard！
By what caprice of imagination was it that the sight of this false
beard lying at Bourgonef's feet thrilled me with horror？ In one
lightning…flash I beheld the archwaythe stranger with the
startled eyesthis stranger no longer unknown to me； but too
fatally recognized as Bourgonefand at his feet the murdered girl！
Moved by what subtle springs of suggestion I know not； but there
before me stood that dreadful vision； seen in a lurid light； but
seen as clearly as if the actual presence of the objects were
obtruding itself upon my eyes。 In the inexpressible horror of this
vision my heart seemed clutched with an icy hand。
Fortunately Bourgonef's attention was called away from me。 He
spoke angrily some short sentence； which of course was in Russian；
and therefore unintelligible to me。 He then stooped； and picking
up the rouge…pot； held it towards me with his melancholy smile。 He
was very red in the face； but that may have been either anger or
the effect of sudden stooping。 〃I see you are surprised at these
masquerading follies；〃 he said in a tone which； though low； was
perfectly calm。 〃You must not suppose that I beautify my sallow
cheeks on ordinary occasions。〃
He then quietly handed the pot to Ivan； who replaced it with the
gloves and the beard in the box； and after making an inquiry which
sounded like a growl； to which Bourgonef answered negatively； he
continued his packing。
Bourgonef resumed his cigar and his argument as if nothing had
happened。
The vision had disappeared； but a confused mass of moving figures
took its place。 My heart throbbed so violently that it seemed to
me as if its tumult must be heard by others。 Yet my face must have
been tolerably calm； since Bourgonef made no comment on it。
I answered his remarks in vague fragments； for； in truth； my
thoughts were flying from conjecture to conjecture。 I remembered
that the stranger had a florid complexion； was this rouge？ It is
true that I fancied the stranger carried a walking…stick in his
right hand； if so； this was enough to crush all suspicions of his
identity with Bourgonef； but then I was rather hazy on this point；
and probably did not observe a walking…stick。
After a while my inattention struck him； and looking at me with
some concern； he inquired if there was anything the matter。 I
pleaded a colic； which I attributed to the imprudence of having
indulged in sauerkraut at dinner。 He advised me to take a little
brandy； but； affecting a fresh access of pain； I bade him good…
night。 He hoped I should be all right on the morrowif not； he
added； we can postpone our journey till the day after。
Once in my own room I bolted the door； and sat down on the edge of
the bed in a tumult of excitement。
V
FLUCTUATIONS
Alone with my thoughts； and capable of pursuing conjectures and
conclusions without external interruption； I quickly exhausted all
the hypothetical possibilities of the case； and； from having
started with the idea that Bourgonef was the assassin； I came at
last to the more sensible conclusion that I was a constructive
blockhead。 My suspicions were simply outrageous in their defect of
evidence； and could never for one moment have seemed otherwise to
any imagination less riotously active than mine。
I bathed my heated head； undressed myself； and got into bed；
considering what I should say to the police when I went next
morning to communicate my suspicions。 And it is worthy of remark；
as well as somewhat ludicrously self…betraying； that no sooner did
I mentally see myself in the presence of the police； and was thus
forced to confront my suspicions with some appearance of evidence；
than the whole fabric of my vision rattled to the ground。 What had
I to say to the police？ Simply that； on the evening of the night
when Lieschen was murdered； I had passed in a public thoroughfare a
man whom I could not identify； but who as I could not help
fancying； seemed to recognize me。 This man； I had persuaded
myself； was the murderer； for which persuasion I was unable to
adduce a tittle of evidence。 It was uncolored by the remotest
possibility。 It was truly and simply the suggestion of my vagrant
fancy； which had mysteriously settled itself into a conviction； and
having thus capriciously identified the stranger with Lieschen's
murderer； I now； upon evidence quite as preposterous； identified
Bourgonef with the stranger。
The folly became apparent even to myself。 If Bour