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I stood still at the table, beside the chair on which she had sat and
looked aimlessly before me. A minute passed, suddenly I started; straight
before me on the table I saw .... In short, I saw a crumpled blue five-rouble
note, the one I had thrust into her hand a minute before. It was the
same note; it could be no other, there was no other in the flat. So she had
managed to fling it from her hand on the table at the moment when I had
dashed into the further corner.
Well! I might have expected that she would do that. Might I have
expected it? No, I was such an egoist, I was so lacking in respect for my
fellow-creatures that I could not even imagine she would do so. I could
not endure it. A minute later I flew like a madman to dress, flinging on
what I could at random and ran headlong after her. She could not have
got two hundred paces away when I ran out into the street.
It was a still night and the snow was coming down in masses and falling
almost perpendicularly, covering the pavement and the empty street as
though with a pillow. There was no one in the street, no sound was to be
heard. The street lamps gave a disconsolate and useless glimmer. I ran
two hundred paces to the cross-roads and stopped short.
Where had she gone? And why was I running after her?
Why? To fall down before her, to sob with remorse, to kiss her feet, to
entreat her forgiveness! I longed for that, my whole breast was being rent
to pieces, and never, never shall I recall that minute with indifference.
But--what for? I thought. Should I not begin to hate her, perhaps, even
tomorrow, just because I had kissed her feet today? Should I give her
happiness? Had I not recognised that day, for the hundredth time, what I
was worth? Should I not torture her?
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