pass into the second course, Monsieur Irtenieff. You had
better not complete the examinations. The faculty must be weeded out.
The same with you, Monsieur Ikonin."

Ikonin implored leave to finish the examinations, as a great favour, but
the professor replied that he (Ikonin) was not likely to do in two days
what he had not succeeded in doing in a year, and that he had not the
smallest chance of passing. Ikonin renewed his humble, piteous appeals,
but the professor was inexorable.

"You can go, gentlemen," he remarked in the same quiet, resolute voice.

I was only too glad to do so, for I felt ashamed of seeming, by my
silent presence, to be joining in Ikonin's humiliating prayers for
grace. I have no recollection of how I threaded my way through the
students in the hall, nor of what I replied to their questions, nor
of how I passed into the vestibule and departed home. I was offended,
humiliated, and genuinely unhappy.

For three days I never left my room, and saw no one, but found relief
in copious tears. I should have sought a pistol to shoot myself if I had
had the necessary determination for the deed. I thought that Ilinka Grap
would spit in my face when he next met me, and that he would have the
right to do so; that Operoff would rejoice at my misfortune, and tell
every one of it; that Kolpikoff had justly shamed me that night at the
restaurant; that my stupid speeches to Princess Kornikoff had had their
fitting result; and so on, and so on. All the moments in my life which
had been for me most difficult and painful recurred to my mind. I tried
to blame some one for my calamity, and thought that some one must have
done it on purpose--must have conspired a whole intrigue against me.
Next, I murmured against the professors, against my comrades, Woloda,
Dimitri, and Papa (the last for having sent me to the University at
all). Finally, I railed at Providence for ever having let me see such
ignominy. Believing myself ruined for ever in the eyes of all who knew
me, I besought Papa to let me go into the hussars or to the Caucasus.
Naturally, Papa was anything but pleased at what had happened; yet, on
seeing my passionate grief, he comforted me by saying that, though it
was a bad business, it might yet be mended by my transferring to another
faculty. Woloda, who also saw nothing very terrible in my misfortune,
added that at least I should not be put out of countenance in a new
faculty, since I should have new comrades