Notes From Underground Page #20

"Notes from Underground" is a novella by Fyodor Dostoevsky, first published in 1864. The work is presented as the ramblings of an unnamed narrator, often referred to as the Underground Man, who is a retired, bitter civil servant living in St. Petersburg. The Underground Man reflects on his life, society, and the nature of free will, revealing deep existential angst and a profound disdain for the rationalism of his time. The novella explores themes of isolation, morality, and the complexities of human psychology, ultimately challenging the reader to confront the contradictions of modern existence. Its innovative structure and intense philosophical inquiries have made it a cornerstone of existential literature.

• Novel

								

offensive, that sheepshead had a notion in earnest that he was superior
to me and could only look at me in a patronizing way? The very
supposition made me gasp.

"I was surprised to hear of your desire to join us," he began, lisping
and drawling, which was something new. "You and I seem to have seen
nothing of one another. You fight shy of us. You shouldn't. We are not
such terrible people as you think. Well, anyway, I am glad to renew our
acquaintance."

And he turned carelessly to put down his hat on the window.

"Have you been waiting long?" Trudolyubov inquired.

"I arrived at five o'clock as you told me yesterday," I answered aloud,
with an irritability that threatened an explosion.

"Didn't you let him know that we had changed the hour?" said Trudolyubov
to Simonov.

"No, I didn't. I forgot," the latter replied, with no sign of regret,
and without even apologizing to me he went off to order the hors
d'oeuvres.

"So you've been here a whole hour? Oh, poor fellow!" Zverkov cried
ironically, for to his notions this was bound to be extremely funny.
That rascal Ferfitchkin followed with his nasty little snigger like a
puppy yapping. My position struck him, too, as exquisitely ludicrous and
embarrassing.

"It isn't funny at all!" I cried to Ferfitchkin, more and more
irritated. "It wasn't my fault, but other people's. They neglected to
let me know. It was ... it was ... it was simply absurd."

"It's not only absurd, but something else as well," muttered
Trudolyubov, naïvely taking my part. "You are not hard enough upon it.
It was simply rudeness--unintentional, of course. And how could Simonov
... h'm!"

"If a trick like that had been played on me," observed Ferfitchkin, "I
should...."

"But you should have ordered something for yourself," Zverkov
interrupted, "or simply asked for dinner without waiting for us."

"You will allow that I might have done that without your permission," I
rapped out. "If I waited, it was...."

"Let us sit down, gentlemen," cried Simonov, coming in. "Everything is
ready; I can answer for the champagne; it is capitally frozen.... You
see, I did not know your address, where was I to look for you?" he
suddenly turned to me, but again he seemed to avoid looking at me.
Evidently he had something against me. It must have been what happened
yesterday.

All sat down; I did the same. It was a round table. Trudolyubov was on
my left, Simonov on my right. Zverkov was sitting opposite, Ferfitchkin
next to him, between him and Trudolyubov.

"Tell me, are you ... in a government office?" Zverkov went on attending
to me. Seeing that I was embarrassed he seriously thought that he ought
to be friendly to me, and, so to speak, cheer me up.

"Does he want me to throw a bottle at his head?" I thought, in a fury.
In my novel surroundings I was unnaturally ready to be irritated.

"In the N---- office," I answered jerkily, with my eyes on my plate.

"And ha-ave you a go-od berth? I say, what ma-a-de you leave your
original job?"

"What ma-a-de me was that I wanted to leave my original job," I drawled
more than he, hardly able to control myself. Ferfitchkin went off into a
guffaw. Simonov looked at me ironically. Trudolyubov left off eating and
began looking at me with curiosity.

Zverkov winced, but he tried not to notice it.

"And the remuneration?"

"What remuneration?"

"I mean, your sa-a-lary?"

"Why are you cross-examining me?" However, I told him at once what my
salary was. I turned horribly red.

"It is not very handsome," Zverkov observed majestically.

"Yes, you can't afford to dine at cafés on that," Ferfitchkin added
insolently.

"To my thinking it's very poor," Trudolyubov observed gravely.

"And how thin you have grown! How you have changed!" added Zverkov, with
a shade of venom in his voice, scanning me and my attire with a sort of
insolent compassion.

"Oh, spare his blushes," cried Ferfitchkin, sniggering.

"My dear sir, allow me to tell you I am not blushing," I broke out at
last; "do you hear? I am dining here, at this café, at my own expense,
not at other people's--note that, Mr. Ferfitchkin."

"Wha-at? Isn't every one here dining at his own expense? You would seem
to be...." Ferfitchkin flew out at me, turning as red as a lobster, and
looking me in the face with fury.

"Tha-at," I answered, feeling I had gone too far, "and I imagine it
would be better to talk of something more intelligent."

"You intend to show off your intelligence, I suppose?"

"Don't disturb yourself, that would be quite out of place here."

"Why are you clacking away like that, my good sir, eh? Have you gone out
of your wits in your office?"

"Enough, gentlemen, enough!" Zverkov cried, authoritatively.

"How stupid it is!" muttered Simonov.

"It really is stupid. We have met here, a company of friends, for a
farewell dinner to a comrade and you carry on an altercation," said
Trudolyubov, rudely addressing himself to me alone. "You invited
yourself to join us, so don't disturb the general harmony."

"Enough, enough!" cried Zverkov. "Give over, gentlemen, it's out of
place. Better let me tell you how I nearly got married the day before
yesterday...."

And then followed a burlesque narrative of how this gentleman had almost
been married two days before. There was not a word about the marriage,
however, but the story was adorned with generals, colonels and
kammer-junkers, while Zverkov almost took the lead among them. It was
greeted with approving laughter; Ferfitchkin positively squealed.

No one paid any attention to me, and I sat crushed and humiliated.

"Good Heavens, these are not the people for me!" I thought. "And what a
fool I have made of myself before them! I let Ferfitchkin go too far,
though. The brutes imagine they are doing me an honour in letting me sit
down with them. They don't understand that it's an honour to them and
not to me! I've grown thinner! My clothes! Oh, damn my trousers! Zverkov
noticed the yellow stain on the knee as soon as he came in.... But
what's the use! I must get up at once, this very minute, take my hat and
simply go without a word ... with contempt! And to-morrow I can send a
challenge. The scoundrels! As though I cared about the seven roubles.
They may think.... Damn it! I don't care about the seven roubles. I'll
go this minute!"

Of course I remained. I drank sherry and Lafitte by the glassful in my
discomfiture. Being unaccustomed to it, I was quickly affected. My
annoyance increased as the wine went to my head. I longed all at once to
								Rate this book:0.0 / 0 votes