and soon got into a scrape. I won't tell you
about it; it's not worth while. But I told a lie about it, and rather
a shameful lie. It all came out, and I was put to open shame. I lost my
head and cried like a child. It happened at a friend's rooms before a
lot of fellow-students. They all began to laugh at me, all except one
student, who, observe, had been more indignant with me than any, so long
as I had been obstinate and would not confess my deceit. He took pity
on me, perhaps; anyway, he took me by the arm and led me away to his
lodging.'

'Was that Rudin?' asked Alexandra Pavlovna.

'No, it was not Rudin... it was a man... he is dead now... he was an
extraordinary man. His name was Pokorsky. To describe him in a few words
is beyond my powers, but directly one begins to speak of him, one does
not want to speak of any one else. He had a noble, pure heart, and an
intelligence such as I have never met since. Pokorsky lived in a little,
low-pitched room, in an attic of an old wooden house. He was very poor,
and supported himself somehow by giving lessons. Sometimes he had not
even a cup of tea to offer to his friends, and his only sofa was so
shaky that it was like being on board ship. But in spite of these
discomforts a great many people used to go to see him. Every one loved
him; he drew all hearts to him. You would not believe what sweetness and
happiness there was in sitting in his poor little room! It was in his
room I met Rudin. He had already parted from his prince before then.'

'What was there so exceptional in this Pokorsky?' asked Alexandra
Pavlovna.

'How can I tell you? Poetry and truth--that was what drew all of us to
him. For all his clear, broad intellect he was as sweet and simple as a
child. Even now I have his bright laugh ringing in my ears, and at the
same time he

Burnt his midnight lamp
Before the holy and the true,

as a dear half-cracked fellow, the poet of our set, expressed it.'

'And how did he talk?' Alexandra Pavlovna questioned again.

'He talked well when he was in the mood, but not remarkably so. Rudin
even then was twenty times as eloquent as he.'

Lezhnyov stood still and folded his arms.

'Pokorsky and Rudin were very unlike. There was more flash and
brilliance about Rudin, more fluency, and perhaps more enthusiasm. He
appeared far more gifted than Pokorsky, and yet all the while he was a
poor creature by comparison. Rudin was excellent at developing any idea,
he was