smallest allusion to his poetry, which he regarded as an unpardonable
weakness in himself. His Swiss schoolmaster had taught him a great many
things, and he was not afraid of hard work. He applied himself readily
and zealously, but did not work consecutively. All his friends loved
him. They were attracted by his natural sense of justice, his kindness,
and his pure-mindedness, but Nejdanov was not born under a lucky star,
and did not find life an easy matter. He was fully conscious of this
fact and felt utterly lonely in spite of the untiring devotion of his
friends.

He stood meditating at the window. Sad, oppressive thoughts rose up in
his mind one after another about the prospective journey, the new and
unexpected change that was coming into his life. He had no regrets at
the thought of leaving St. Petersburg, as he would leave nothing behind
that was especially dear to him, and he knew that he would be back in
the autumn; but he was pervaded by the spirit of indecision, and an
involuntary melancholy came over him.

"A fine tutor I shall make!" flashed across his mind. "Am I cut out for
a schoolmaster?" He was ready to reproach himself for having undertaken
the duties of a tutor, and would have been unjust in doing so. Nejdanov
was sufficiently cultured, and, in spite of his uncertain temperament,
children grew readily fond of him and he of them. His depression was
due to that feeling which takes possession of one before any change
of place, a feeling experienced by all melancholy, dreaming people and
unknown to those of energetic, sanguine temperaments, who always rejoice
at any break in the humdrum of their daily existence, and welcome a
change of abode with pleasure. Nejdanov was so lost in his meditations
that his thoughts began quite unconsciously to take the form of words.
His wandering sensations began to arrange themselves into measured
cadences.

"Damn!" he exclaimed aloud. "I'm wandering off into poetry!" He shook
himself and turned away from the window. He caught sight of Paklin's
ten-rouble note, put it in his pocket, and began pacing up and down the
room.

"I must get some money in advance," he thought to himself. "What a good
thing this gentleman suggested it. A hundred roubles... a hundred from
my brothers--their excellencies.... I want fifty to pay my debts, fifty
or seventy for the journey--and the rest Ostrodumov can have. Then there
are Paklin's ten roubles in addition, and I dare say I can get