a lamp before Laevsky, since
he is the fated victim of the age, of influences, of heredity, and
so on. All the officials and their ladies were in ecstasies when
they listened to him, and I could not make out for a long time what
sort of man I had to deal with, a cynic or a clever rogue. Such
types as he, on the surface intellectual with a smattering of
education and a great deal of talk about their own nobility, are
very clever in posing as exceptionally complex natures."

"Hold your tongue!" Samoylenko flared up. "I will not allow a
splendid fellow to be spoken ill of in my presence!"

"Don't interrupt, Alexandr Daviditch," said Von Koren coldly; "I
am just finishing. Laevsky is by no means a complex organism. Here
is his moral skeleton: in the morning, slippers, a bathe, and coffee;
then till dinner-time, slippers, a constitutional, and conversation;
at two o'clock slippers, dinner, and wine; at five o'clock a bathe,
tea and wine, then _vint_ and lying; at ten o'clock supper and wine;
and after midnight sleep and _la femme_. His existence is confined
within this narrow programme like an egg within its shell. Whether
he walks or sits, is angry, writes, rejoices, it may all be reduced
to wine, cards, slippers, and women. Woman plays a fatal, overwhelming
part in his life. He tells us himself that at thirteen he was in
love; that when he was a student in his first year he was living
with a lady who had a good influence over him, and to whom he was
indebted for his musical education. In his second year he bought a
prostitute from a brothel and raised her to his level--that is,
took her as his kept mistress, and she lived with him for six months
and then ran away back to the brothel-keeper, and her flight caused
him much spiritual suffering. Alas! his sufferings were so great
that he had to leave the university and spend two years at home
doing nothing. But this was all for the best. At home he made friends
with a widow who advised him to leave the Faculty of Jurisprudence
and go into the Faculty of Arts. And so he did. When he had taken
his degree, he fell passionately in love with his present . . .
what's her name? . . . married lady, and was obliged to flee with
her here to the Caucasus for the sake of his ideals, he would have
us believe, seeing that . . . to-morrow, if not to-day, he will be
tired of her and flee back again to Petersburg, and that, too, will
be for the sake of his ideals."

"How do you know?" gro