might get cross directly at my daring to think I could be cunning, so
that I might have a chance of explaining myself at once. You see, you
see how open I have become now! Well, do you care to listen?"

In the expression of Nikolay Vsyevolodovitch's face, which was
contemptuously composed, and even ironical, in spite of his visitor's
obvious desire to irritate him by the insolence of his premeditated
and intentionally coarse naivetes, there was, at last, a look of rather
uneasy curiosity.

"Listen," said Pyotr Stepanovitch, wriggling more than ever, "when I set
off to come here, I mean here in the large sense, to this town, ten days
ago, I made up my mind, of course, to assume a character. It would
have been best to have done without anything, to have kept one's
own character, wouldn't it? There is no better dodge than one's own
character, because no one believes in it. I meant, I must own, to assume
the part of a fool, because it is easier to be a fool than to act
one's own character; but as a fool is after all something extreme,
and anything extreme excites curiosity, I ended by sticking to my own
character. And what is my own character? The golden mean: neither wise
nor foolish, rather stupid, and dropped from the moon, as sensible
people say here, isn't that it?"

"Perhaps it is," said Nikolay Vsyevolodovitch, with a faint smile.

"Ah, you agree--I'm very glad; I knew beforehand that it was your own
opinion.... You needn't trouble, I am not annoyed, and I didn't describe
myself in that way to get a flattering contradiction from you--no,
you're not stupid, you're clever.... Ah! you're smiling again! ... I've
blundered once more. You would not have said 'you're clever,' granted;
I'll let it pass anyway. _Passons,_ as papa says, and, in parenthesis,
don't be vexed with my verbosity. By the way, I always say a lot, that
is, use a great many words and talk very fast, and I never speak well.
And why do I use so many words, and why do I never speak well? Because
I don't know how to speak. People who can speak well, speak briefly. So
that I am stupid, am I not? But as this gift of stupidity is natural
to me, why shouldn't I make skilful use of it? And I do make use of it.
It's true that as I came here, I did think, at first, of being silent.
But you know silence is a great talent, and therefore incongruous for
me, and secondly silence would be risky, anyway. So I made up my mind
finally that it would be best to talk, but