Notes From The Underground 52

Trudolyubov deigned to notice me at last, glancing contemptuously in my direction. Zverkov, without a word, examined me as though I were an insect. I dropped my eyes. Simonov made haste to fill up the glasses with champagne. Trudolyubov raised his glass, as did everyone else but

me.

‘Your health and good luck on the journey!’ he cried to Zverkov. ‘To old times, to our future, hurrah!’

They all tossed off their glasses, and crowded round Zverkov to kiss him. I did not move; my full glass stood un-touched before me.

‘Why, aren’t you going to drink it?’ roared Trudolyubov, losing patience and turning menacingly to me.

‘I want to make a speech separately, on my own account ... and then I’ll drink it, Mr. Trudolyubov.’

‘Spiteful brute!’ muttered Simonov. I drew myself up in my chair and feverishly seized my glass, prepared for some-thing extraordinary, though I did not know myself precisely what I was going to say.

‘SILENCE!’ cried Ferfitchkin. ‘Now for a display of wit!’ Zverkov waited very gravely, knowing what was coming. ‘Mr. Lieutenant Zverkov,’ I began, ‘let me tell you that I hate phrases, phrasemongers and men in corsets ... that’s

the first point, and there is a second one to follow it.’ There was a general stir.

‘The second point is: I hate ribaldry and ribald talkers. Especially ribald talkers! The third point: I love justice, truth and honesty.’ I went on almost mechanically, for I was beginning to shiver with horror myself and had no idea how I came to be talking like this. ‘I love thought, Monsieur Zverkov; I love true comradeship, on an equal footing and not ... H’m ... I love ... But, however, why not? I will drink your health, too, Mr. Zverkov. Seduce the Circassian girls, shoot the enemies of the fatherland and ... and ... to your health, Monsieur Zverkov!’

Zverkov got up from his seat, bowed to me and said:

‘I am very much obliged to you.’ He was frightfully of-fended and turned pale.

‘Damn the fellow!’ roared Trudolyubov, bringing his fist down on the table.

‘Well, he wants a punch in the face for that,’ squealed Fer-fitchkin.

‘We ought to turn him out,’ muttered Simonov.

‘Not a word, gentlemen, not a movement!’ cried Zverkov solemnly, checking the general indignation. ‘I thank you all, but I can show him for myself how much value I attach to his words.’

‘Mr. Ferfitchkin, you will give me satisfaction tomorrow for your words just now!’ I said aloud, turning with dignity to Ferfitchkin.

‘A duel, you mean? Certainly,’ he answered. But probably I was so ridiculous as I challenged him and it was so out of keeping with my appearance that everyone including Fer-fitchkin was prostrate with laughter.

to be contd...