a brother of Trukhachévski, and I with a kind of transport lacerated my heart with this conversation, referring it to Trukhachévski and my wife.
"That had happened long ago, but I recalled it. Trukhachévski's brother, I remembered once, in reply to question whether he frequented certain houses, said that a decent man would not go where he might catch a disease, and it was dirty and nasty to do it, as long as one could find a decent woman. And so he, his brother, had found my wife. 'It is true, she is no longer in her first youth; she has lost one side tooth, and there is a certain puffiness,' I thought for him, 'but what is to be done? I must make use of what I find.—Yes, he is condescending to her in making her his mistress,' I said to myself. 'Besides, there is no danger with her— No, it is impossible!' I said to myself, in terror. 'There is nothing of the kind, nothing! There is not even basis for supposing anything of the kind. Did she not tell me that even the thought of my being jealous of him was humiliating to her? Ah, but she is lying, she is doing nothing but lying!' I called out, and it began once more— There were but two passengers in our car: an old woman and her husband, both very talkative, but they left at a station, and I remained all alone. I was like a beast in a cage: now I jumped up and walked over to the windows; now I staggered and began to walk as though to get ahead of the car; but the car with all its benches and windows kept shaking just like this one—"
Pózdnyshev jumped up, took a few steps, and again sat down.
"Oh, I am afraid, I am afraid of the railway cars,—terror takes possession of me! Yes, they are terrible!" he continued. "I said to myself that I would think of something else, say of the landlord of the inn where I drank the tea. And so before my mental eye arose the janitor with a long beard and his grandson, a child as old as my
