way he suddenly stops and glances at his companions, it can be seen that he is longing to
say something very important, but, apparently reflecting that they would not listen, or
would not understand him, he shakes his head impatiently and goes on pacing up and down.
But soon the desire to speak gets the upper hand of every consideration, and he will let
himself go and speak fervently and passionately. His talk is disordered and feverish like
delirium, disconnected, and not always intelligible, but, on the other hand, something
extremely fine may be felt in it, both in the words and the voice. When he talks you
recognize in him the lunatic and the man. It is difficult to reproduce on paper his insane
talk. He speaks of the baseness of mankind, of violence trampling on justice, of the glorious
life which will one day be upon earth, of the window-gratings, which remind him every
minute of the stupidity and cruelty of oppressors. It makes a disorderly, incoherent
potpourri of themes old but not yet out of date.
II
Some twelve or fifteen years ago an official called Gromov, a highly respectable and
prosperous person, was living in his own house in the principal street of the town. He had
two sons, Sergey and Ivan. When Sergey was a student in his fourth year he was taken ill
with galloping consumption and died, and his death was, as it were, the first of a whole
series of calamities which suddenly showered on the Gromov family. Within a week of
Sergey's funeral the old father was put on trial for fraud and misappropriation, and he died
of typhoid in the prison hospital soon afterwards. The house, with all their belongings, was
sold by auction, and Ivan Dmitritch and his mother were left entirely without means.
Hitherto in his father's lifetime, Ivan Dmitritch, who was studying in the University of
Petersburg, had received an allowance of sixty or seventy roubles a month, and had had no
conception of poverty; now he had to make an abrupt change in his life. He had to spend his
time from morning to night giving lessons for next to nothing, to work at copying, and with
all that to go hungry, as all his earnings were sent to keep his mother. Ivan Dmitritch could
not stand such a life; he lost heart and strength, and, giving up the university, went home.
Here, through interest, he obtained the post of teacher in the district school, but could not
get on with his colleagues, was not liked by the boys, and soon gave up the post. His mother
died. He was for six months without work, living on nothing but bread and water; then he
became a court usher. He kept this post until he was dismissed owing to his illness.
He had never even in his young student days given the impression of being perfectly
healthy. He had always been pale, thin, and given to catching cold; he ate little and slept
badly. A single glass of wine went to his head and made him hysterical. He always had a
craving for society, but, owing to his irritable temperament and suspiciousness, he never
became very intimate with anyone, and had no friends. He always spoke with contempt of
his fellow-townsmen, saying that their coarse ignorance and sleepy animal existence
seemed to him loathsome and horrible. He spoke in a loud tenor, with heat, and invariably
either with scorn and indignation, or with wonder and enthusiasm, and always with perfect
sincerity. Whatever one talked to him about he always brought it round to the same subject:
that life was dull and stifling in the town; that the townspeople had no lofty interests, but
lived a dingy, meaningless life, diversified by violence, coarse profligacy, and hypocrisy;
that scoundrels were well fed and clothed, while honest men lived from hand to mouth; that
they needed schools, a progressive local paper, a theatre, public lectures, the co-ordination