of a word of a
sentence which I found myself powerless to conclude.

Even the worldly-minded young Princess was shocked by my conduct, and
gazed at me in reproach; whereat I burst out laughing. At this critical
moment, Woloda, who had remarked that I was conversing with great
animation, and probably was curious to know what excuses I was making
for not dancing, approached us with Dubkoff. Seeing, however, my smiling
face and the Princess's frightened mien, as well as overhearing the
appalling rubbish with which I concluded my speech, he turned red in
the face, and wheeled round again. The Princess also rose and left me. I
continued to smile, but in such a state of agony from the consciousness
of my stupidity that I felt ready to sink into the floor. Likewise I
felt that, come what might, I must move about and say something, in
order to effect a change in my position. Accordingly I approached
Dubkoff, and asked him if he had danced many waltzes with her that
night. This I feigned to say in a gay and jesting manner, yet in reality
I was imploring help of the very Dubkoff to whom I had cried "Hold your
tongue!" on the night of the matriculation dinner. By way of answer, he
made as though he had not heard me, and turned away. Next, I approached
Woloda, and said with an effort and in a similar tone of assumed gaiety:
"Hullo, Woloda! Are you played out yet?" He merely looked at me as much
as to say, "You wouldn't speak to me like that if we were alone," and
left me without a word, in the evident fear that I might continue to
attach myself to his person.

"My God! Even my own brother deserts me!" I thought to myself.

Yet somehow I had not the courage to depart, but remained standing where
I was until the very end of the evening. At length, when every one was
leaving the room and crowding into the hall, and a footman slipped my
greatcoat on to my shoulders in such a way as to tilt up my cap, I gave
a dreary, half-lachrymose smile, and remarked to no one in particular:
"Comme c'est gracieux!"

XXXIX. THE STUDENTS' FEAST

NOTWITHSTANDING that, as yet, Dimitri's influence had kept me from
indulging in those customary students' festivities known as kutezhi or
"wines," that winter saw me participate in such a function, and carry
away with me a not over-pleasant impression of it. This is how it came
about.

At a lecture soon after the New Year, Baron Z.--a tall, light-haired
young fellow of very serious demeanour and r