little queer. But there is no need whatever for me to hate him. I
quite understood your brother when he first offered me aid against the
prince, though I did not show it; I knew well that your brother was
making a ridiculous mistake in me. I am ready to spare him, however,
even now; but solely out of respect for yourself, Varvara Ardalionovna.

"Having now shown you that I am not quite such a fool as I look, and
that I have to be fished for with a rod and line for a good long while
before I am caught, I will proceed to explain why I specially wished to
make your brother look a fool. That my motive power is hate, I do not
attempt to conceal. I have felt that before dying (and I am dying,
however much fatter I may appear to you), I must absolutely make a fool
of, at least, one of that class of men which has dogged me all my life,
which I hate so cordially, and which is so prominently represented by
your much esteemed brother. I should not enjoy paradise nearly so much
without having done this first. I hate you, Gavrila Ardalionovitch,
solely (this may seem curious to you, but I repeat)--solely because you
are the type, and incarnation, and head, and crown of the most impudent,
the most self-satisfied, the most vulgar and detestable form of
commonplaceness. You are ordinary of the ordinary; you have no chance of
ever fathering the pettiest idea of your own. And yet you are as jealous
and conceited as you can possibly be; you consider yourself a great
genius; of this you are persuaded, although there are dark moments of
doubt and rage, when even this fact seems uncertain. There are spots
of darkness on your horizon, though they will disappear when you become
completely stupid. But a long and chequered path lies before you, and
of this I am glad. In the first place you will never gain a certain
person."

"Come, come! This is intolerable! You had better stop, you little
mischief-making wretch!" cried Varia. Gania had grown very pale; he
trembled, but said nothing.

Hippolyte paused, and looked at him intently and with great
gratification. He then turned his gaze upon Varia, bowed, and went out,
without adding another word.

Gania might justly complain of the hardness with which fate treated him.
Varia dared not speak to him for a long while, as he strode past her,
backwards and forwards. At last he went and stood at the window, looking
out, with his back turned towards her. There was a fearful row going on
upstairs again