tand a fellow feeling uncomfortable
when he is sitting with people who are fond of him. It is unnatural, mon
cher."

"But what else is there to be done si je suis tant timide? You never
blushed in your life, but I do at the least trifle," and he blushed at
that moment.

"Do you know what that nervousness of yours proceeds from?" said Dubkoff
in a protecting sort of tone, "D'un exces d'amour propre, mon cher."

"What do you mean by 'exces d'amour propre'?" asked Nechludoff, highly
offended. "On the contrary, I am shy just because I have TOO LITTLE
amour propre. I always feel as though I were being tiresome and
disagreeable, and therefore--"

"Well, get ready, Woloda," interrupted Dubkoff, tapping my brother on
the shoulder and handing him his cloak. "Ignaz, get your master ready."

"Therefore," continued Nechludoff, "it often happens with me that--"

But Dubkoff was not listening. "Tra-la-la-la," and he hummed a popular
air.

"Oh, but I'm not going to let you off," went on Nechludoff. "I mean to
prove to you that my shyness is not the result of conceit."

"You can prove it as we go along."

"But I have told you that I am NOT going."

"Well, then, stay here and prove it to the DIPLOMAT, and he can tell us
all about it when we return."

"Yes, that's what I WILL do," said Nechludoff with boyish obstinacy, "so
hurry up with your return."

"Well, do you think I am egotistic?" he continued, seating himself
beside me.

True, I had a definite opinion on the subject, but I felt so taken aback
by this unexpected question that at first I could make no reply.

"Yes, I DO think so," I said at length in a faltering voice, and
colouring at the thought that at last the moment had come when I could
show him that I was clever. "I think that EVERYBODY is egotistic, and
that everything we do is done out of egotism."

"But what do you call egotism?" asked Nechludoff--smiling, as I thought,
a little contemptuously.

"Egotism is a conviction that we are better and cleverer than any one
else," I replied.

"But how can we ALL be filled with this conviction?" he inquired.

"Well, I don't know if I am right or not--certainly no one but myself
seems to hold the opinion--but I believe that I am wiser than any one
else in the world, and that all of you know it."

"At least I can say for myself," observed Nechludoff, "that I have met a
FEW people whom I believe to excel me in wisdom."

"It is impossible," I replied with convi