opinion has always been dearer to me than
anything. From this moment I will take nothing, but will worship you
disinterestedly."

"How stupid that is!"

"You have never respected me. I may have had a mass of weaknesses. Yes,
I have sponged on you. I speak the language of nihilism, but sponging
has never been the guiding motive of my action. It has happened so
of itself. I don't know how.... I always imagined there was something
higher than meat and drink between us, and--I've never, never been a
scoundrel! And so, to take the open road, to set things right. I set
off late, late autumn out of doors, the mist lies over the fields, the
hoarfrost of old age covers the road before me, and the wind howls about
the approaching grave.... But so forward, forward, on my new way

'Filled with purest love and fervour,
Faith which my sweet dream did yield.'

Oh, my dreams. Farewell. Twenty years. _Alea jacta est!_"

His face was wet with a sudden gush of tears. He took his hat.

"I don't understand Latin," said Varvara Petrovna, doing her best to
control herself.

Who knows, perhaps, she too felt like crying. But caprice and
indignation once more got the upper hand.

"I know only one thing, that all this is childish nonsense. You will
never be capable of carrying out your threats, which are a mass of
egoism. You will set off nowhere, to no merchant; you'll end very
peaceably on my hands, taking your pension, and receiving your utterly
impossible friends on Tuesdays. Good-bye, Stepan Trofimovitch."

_"Alea jacta est!"_ He made her a deep bow, and returned home, almost
dead with emotion.

CHAPTER VI. PYOTR STEPANOVITCH IS BUSY

The date of the fete was definitely fixed, and Von Lembke became more
and more depressed. He was full of strange and sinister forebodings,
and this made Yulia Mihailovna seriously uneasy. Indeed, things were not
altogether satisfactory. Our mild governor had left the affairs of the
province a little out of gear; at the moment we were threatened with
cholera; serious outbreaks of cattle plague had appeared in several
places; fires were prevalent that summer in towns and villages; whilst
among the peasantry foolish rumours of incendiarism grew stronger and
stronger. Cases of robbery were twice as numerous as usual. But all
this, of course, would have been perfectly ordinary had there been
no other and more weighty reasons to disturb the equanimity of Andrey
Antonovitch, who had till