ietnikov never
went out, never indulged in any form of dissipation, and never walked
upstairs. Nothing did he care for fresh air, and would bestow not a
passing glance upon all those beauties of the countryside which moved
visitors to such ecstatic admiration. From this the reader will see that
Andrei Ivanovitch Tientietnikov belonged to that band of sluggards whom
we always have with us, and who, whatever be their present appellation,
used to be known by the nicknames of "lollopers," "bed pressers," and
"marmots." Whether the type is a type originating at birth, or a type
resulting from untoward circumstances in later life, it is impossible to
say. A better course than to attempt to answer that question would be to
recount the story of Tientietnikov's boyhood and upbringing.

Everything connected with the latter seemed to promise success, for at
twelve years of age the boy--keen-witted, but dreamy of temperament, and
inclined to delicacy--was sent to an educational establishment presided
over by an exceptional type of master. The idol of his pupils, and the
admiration of his assistants, Alexander Petrovitch was gifted with
an extraordinary measure of good sense. How thoroughly he knew the
peculiarities of the Russian of his day! How well he understood boys!
How capable he was of drawing them out! Not a practical joker in the
school but, after perpetrating a prank, would voluntarily approach his
preceptor and make to him free confession. True, the preceptor would
put a stern face upon the matter, yet the culprit would depart with head
held higher, not lower, than before, since in Alexander Petrovitch
there was something which heartened--something which seemed to say to a
delinquent: "Forward you! Rise to your feet again, even though you have
fallen!" Not lectures on good behaviour was it, therefore, that fell
from his lips, but rather the injunction, "I want to see intelligence,
and nothing else. The boy who devotes his attention to becoming clever
will never play the fool, for under such circumstances, folly disappears
of itself." And so folly did, for the boy who failed to strive in the
desired direction incurred the contempt of all his comrades, and even
dunces and fools of senior standing did not dare to raise a finger when
saluted by their juniors with opprobrious epithets. Yet "This is too
much," certain folk would say to Alexander. "The result will be that
your students will turn out prigs." "But no," he would rep