o me,
and (happily for myself) took no notice (as it now appears) of my
play-acting. Only Lubov Sergievna, who, I believe, really believed me
to be a great egoist, atheist, and cynic, had no love for me, but
frequently disputed what I said, flew into tempers, and left me
petrified with her disjointed, irrelevant utterances. Yet Dimitri held
always to the same strange, something more than friendly, relations with
her, and used to say not only that she was misunderstood by every one,
but that she did him a world of good. This, however, did not prevent the
rest of his family from finding fault with his infatuation.

Once, when talking to me about this incomprehensible attachment,
Varenika explained the matter thus: "You see, Dimitri is a selfish
person. He is very proud, and, for all his intellect, very fond of
praise, and of surprising people, and of always being FIRST, while
little Auntie" (the general nickname for Lubov Sergievna) "is innocent
enough to admire him, and at the same time devoid of the tact to
conceal her admiration. Consequently she flatters his vanity--not out of
pretence, but sincerely."

This dictum I laid to heart, and, when thinking it over afterwards,
could not but come to the conclusion that Varenika was very sensible;
wherefore I was glad to award her promotion thenceforth in my regard.
Yet, though I was always glad enough to assign her any credit which
might arise from my discovering in her character any signs of good sense
or other moral qualities, I did so with strict moderation, and never
ran to any extreme pitch of enthusiasm in the process. Thus, when Sophia
Ivanovna (who was never weary of discussing her niece) related to me
how, four years ago, Varenika had suddenly given away all her clothes to
some peasant children without first asking permission to do so, so that
the garments had subsequently to be recovered, I did not at once accept
the fact as entitling Varenika to elevation in my opinion, but went
on giving her good advice about the unpracticalness of such views on
property.

When other guests were present at the Nechludoffs (among them,
sometimes, Woloda and Dubkoff) I used to withdraw myself to a remote
plane, and, with the complacency and quiet consciousness of strength
of an habitue of the house, listen to what others were saying without
putting in a remark myself. Yet everything that these others said seemed
to me so immeasurably stupid that I used to feel inwardly amazed tha