lodovitch, even when he was sane. For my part
I don't know to this day how to explain it, in spite of the event that
quickly followed and apparently explained everything, and conciliated
every one. I will add also that, four years later, in reply to a
discreet question from me about the incident at the club, Nikolay
Vsyevolodovitch answered, frowning: "I wasn't quite well at the time."
But there is no need to anticipate events.

The general outburst of hatred with which every one fell upon the
"ruffian and duelling bully from the capital" also struck me as curious.
They insisted on seeing an insolent design and deliberate intention to
insult our whole society at once. The truth was no one liked the fellow,
but, on the contrary, he had set every one against him--and one wonders
how. Up to the last incident he had never quarrelled with anyone, nor
insulted anyone, but was as courteous as a gentleman in a fashion-plate,
if only the latter were able to speak. I imagine that he was hated for
his pride. Even our ladies, who had begun by adoring him, railed against
him now, more loudly than the men. Varvara Petrovna was dreadfully
overwhelmed. She confessed afterwards to Stepan Trofimovitch that she
had had a foreboding of all this long before, that every day for the
last six months she had been expecting "just something of that sort,"
a remarkable admission on the part of his own mother. "It's begun!" she
thought to herself with a shudder. The morning after the incident at the
club she cautiously but firmly approached the subject with her son, but
the poor woman was trembling all over in spite of her firmness. She had
not slept all night and even went out early to Stepan Trofimovitch's
lodgings to ask his advice, and shed tears there, a thing which she had
never been known to do before anyone. She longed for "Nicolas" to say
something to her, to deign to give some explanation. Nikolay, who was
always so polite and respectful to his mother, listened to her for some
time scowling, but very seriously. He suddenly got up without saying
a word, kissed her hand and went away. That very evening, as though by
design, he perpetrated another scandal. It was of a more harmless and
ordinary character than the first. Yet, owing to the state of the public
mind, it increased the outcry in the town.

Our friend Liputin turned up and called on Nikolay Vsyevolodovitch
immediately after the latter's interview with his mother, and earnestly
beg