of it all the time. Even the supposed approval of David comforted me
but little. He had not openly expressed it; only he had said once when
we were talking together that he would not have expected it of me.
Decidedly, my sacrifice was of but little use, since the satisfaction
of my vanity did not compensate me for it. As luck would have it,
there came a schoolmate of ours, the son of the city physician, who
kept bragging of not even a silver, but of a pinchbeck watch his
grandmother had given him. At last I could bear it no longer, and one
day I slunk quietly out of the house, determined to find the boy to
whom I had given my watch. I soon came across him: he was playing
jackstones with some other boys in the church-porch. I called him
aside, and, hardly waiting to take breath, I stammered out that my
parents were very angry with me for giving the watch away, and that if
he was willing to give it back to me I would gladly pay him for it. I
had brought an Elizabeth ruble with me, which was all my savings.

"But I haven't got your watch," answered the boy with a tearful voice.
"My father saw me have it and took it away from me: he did, and he
wanted to whip me too. He said I must have stolen it somewhere. He
said, 'Who would be such a fool as to give you a watch?'"

"And who is your father?"

"My father? Trofimytsch."

"But what is he? what's his business?"

"He is a discharged soldier, a sergeant, and he has no business. He
mends and soles old shoes. That's all the business he has. He supports
himself by that, too."

"Where does he live? Take me to him."

"Yes, I'll show you the way. You'll tell him you gave me the watch,
won't you? He keeps calling me names about it, and my mother keeps
asking, 'Who do you take after, that you're such a scamp?'"

The boy and I went together to his house. It was merely a rickety
hut built in the back yard of a factory that had been burned down and
never built up again. We found Trofimytsch and his wife at home. The
discharged sergeant was a tall old man, straight and strong, with
grayish-yellow whiskers, unshaven chin, a network of wrinkles on his
forehead and cheeks. His wife looked older than he: her eyes shone
dimly from the midst of a somewhat swollen face, into which they
seemed to have been driven. Both wore dirty rags for clothes. I
explained to Trofimytsch what I wanted and why I had come. He listened
in silence, without even winking or turning his dull, attentive,
sold