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"Another Man's Wife" is a lesser-known short story by Fyodor Dostoevsky, exploring themes of love, infidelity, and the complexities of human relationships. The narrative revolves around a man who becomes infatuated with another man's wife, delving into the emotional turmoil and moral dilemmas that arise from his desires. Dostoevsky's characteristic psychological depth is evident as he examines the conflict between passion and societal norms, ultimately revealing the profound impacts of jealousy and betrayal on the lives of those involved.


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Submitted by davidb on February 02, 2025


								
I believe I am not mistaken, I am addressing a prince...." "No, I am not a prince, sir, I am an independent gentleman.... Please do not flatter me with your 'Highness.' How did you get here, sir? How did you get here?" "Your Highness, that is, your Excellency.... Excuse me, I thought that you were your Highness. I looked ... I imagined ... it does happen. You are so like Prince Korotkouhov whom I have had the honour of meeting at my friend Mr. Pusyrev's.... You see, I am acquainted with princes, too, I have met princes, too, at the houses of my friends; you cannot take me for what you take me for. I am not a thief. Your Excellency, don't call the servants; what will be the good of it if you do call them?" "But how did you come here?" cried the lady. "Who are you?" "Yes, who are you?" the husband chimed in. "And, my love, I thought it was pussy under the bed sneezing. And it was he. Ah, you vagabond! Who are you? Tell me!" And the old gentleman stamped on the carpet again. "I cannot speak, your Excellency, I am waiting till you are finished, I am enjoying your witty jokes. As regards me, it is an absurd story, your Excellency; I will tell you all about it. It can all be explained without more ado, that is, I mean, don't call the servants, your Excellency! Treat me in a gentlemanly way.... It means nothing that I was under the bed, I have not sacrificed my dignity by that. It is a most comical story, your Excellency!" cried Ivan Andreyitch, addressing the lady with a supplicating air. "You, particularly, your Excellency, will laugh! You behold upon the scene a jealous husband. You see, I abase myself, I abase myself of my own free will. I did indeed kill Amishka, but ... my God, I don't know what I am saying!" "But how, how did you get here?" "Under cover of night, your Excellency, under cover of night.... I beg your pardon! Forgive me, your Excellency! I humbly beg your pardon! I am only an injured husband, nothing more! Don't imagine, your Excellency, that I am a lover! I am not a lover! Your wife is virtue itself, if I may venture so to express myself. She is pure and innocent!" "What, what? What did you have the audacity to say?" cried the old gentleman, stamping his foot again. "Are you out of your mind or not? How dare you talk about my wife?" "He is a villain, a murderer who has killed Amishka," wailed the lady, dissolving into tears. "And then he dares!..." "Your Excellency, your Excellency! I spoke foolishly," cried Ivan Andreyitch in a fluster. "I was talking foolishly, that was all! Think of me as out of my mind.... For goodness' sake, think of me as out of my mind.... I assure you that you will be doing me the greatest favour. I would offer you my hand, but I do not venture to.... I was not alone, I was an uncle.... I mean to say that you cannot take me for the lover.... Goodness! I have put my foot in it again.... Do not be offended, your Excellency," cried Ivan Andreyitch to the lady. "You are a lady, you understand what love is, it is a delicate feeling.... But what am I saying? I am talking nonsense again; that is, I mean to say that I am an old man--that is, a middle-aged man, not an old man; that I cannot be your lover; that a lover is a Richardson--that is, a Lovelace.... I am talking nonsense, but you see, your Excellency, that I am a well-educated man and know something of literature. You are laughing, your Excellency. I am delighted, delighted that I have provoked your mirth, your Excellency. Oh, how delighted I am that I have provoked your mirth." "My goodness, what a funny man!" cried the lady, exploding with laughter. "Yes, he is funny, and in such a mess," said the old man, delighted that his wife was laughing. "He cannot be a thief, my love. But how did he come here?" "It really is strange, it really is strange, it is like a novel! Why! At the dead of night, in a great city, a man under the bed. Strange, funny! Rinaldo-Rinaldini after a fashion. But that is no matter, no matter, your Excellency. I will tell you all about it.... And I will buy you a new lapdog, your Excellency.... A wonderful lapdog! Such a long coat, such short little legs, it can't walk more than a step or two: it runs a little, gets entangled in its own coat, and tumbles over. One feeds it on nothing but sugar. I will bring you one, I will certainly bring you one." "Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!" The lady was rolling from side to side with laughter. "Oh, dear, I shall have hysterics! Oh, how funny he is!" "Yes, yes! Ha-ha-ha! Khee-khee-khee! He is funny and he is in a mess--khee-khee-khee!" "Your Excellency, your Excellency, I am now perfectly happy. I would offer you my hand, but I do not venture to, your Excellency. I feel that I have been in error, but now I am opening my eyes. I am certain my wife is pure and innocent! I was wrong in suspecting her." "Wife--his wife!" cried the lady, with tears in her eyes through laughing. "He married? Impossible! I should never have thought it," said the old gentleman. "Your Excellency, my wife--it is all her fault; that is, it is my fault: I suspected her; I knew that an assignation had been arranged here--here upstairs; I intercepted a letter, made a mistake about the storey and got under the bed...." "He-he-he-he!" "Ha-ha-ha-ha!" "Ha-ha-ha-ha!" Ivan Andreyitch began laughing at last. "Oh, how happy I am! Oh, how wonderful to see that we are all so happy and harmonious! And my wife is entirely innocent. That must be so, your Excellency!" "He-he-he! Khee-khee! Do you know, my love, who it was?" said the old man at last, recovering from his mirth. "Who? Ha-ha-ha." "She must be the pretty woman who makes eyes, the one with the dandy. It's she, I bet that's his wife!" "No, your Excellency, I am certain it is not she; I am perfectly certain." "But, my goodness! You are losing time," cried the lady, leaving off laughing. "Run, go upstairs. Perhaps you will find them." "Certainly, your Excellency, I will fly. But I shall not find any one, your Excellency; it is not she, I am certain of it beforehand. She is at home now. It is all my fault! It is simply my jealousy, nothing else.... What do you think? Do you suppose that I shall find them there, your Excellency?" "Ha-ha-ha!" "He-he-he! Khee-khee!" "You must go, you must go! And when you come down, come in and tell us!" cried the lady; "or better still, to-morrow morning. And do bring her too, I should like to make her acquaintance." "Good-bye, your Excellency, good-bye! I will certainly bring her, I shall
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Fyodor Dostoevsky

Fyodor Mikhailovich Dostoevsky (11 November 1821 – 9 February 1881) was a Russian novelist, short story writer, essayist, journalist and philosopher. more…

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