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- Herausgeber: Musaicum Books
- Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
- Sprache: Englisch
- Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2017
Fyodor Dostoyevsky's 'Another Man's Wife and a Husband Under the Bed' is a compelling novella that delves into themes of jealousy, betrayal, and moral ambiguity. Written in Dostoyevsky's signature psychological style, the story follows the protagonist as he grapples with his suspicions of his wife's infidelity and the moral dilemmas that arise from his obsessive thoughts. The novella's dark and introspective tone reflects the author's exploration of human nature and the complexities of relationships in 19th-century Russia. Fyodor Dostoyevsky, known for his profound insight into the human psyche, drew inspiration for 'Another Man's Wife and a Husband Under the Bed' from his own personal struggles with jealousy and paranoia. As a master of Russian literature, Dostoyevsky's unique perspective adds depth and nuance to the novella, making it a gripping and thought-provoking read for fans of psychological fiction. I highly recommend 'Another Man's Wife and a Husband Under the Bed' to readers who enjoy literary works that delve into the darker aspects of human emotions and relationships. Dostoyevsky's exploration of jealousy and moral ambiguity is sure to captivate and provoke deep reflection.
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ANOTHER MAN'S WIFE AND A HUSBAND UNDER THE BED
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Table of Contents
I
“Be so kind, sir … allow me to ask you….”
The gentleman so addressed started and looked with some alarm at the gentleman in raccoon furs who had accosted him so abruptly at eight o’clock in the evening in the street. We all know that if a Petersburg gentleman suddenly in the street speaks to another gentleman with whom he is unacquainted, the second gentleman is invariably alarmed.
And so the gentleman addressed started and was somewhat alarmed.
“Excuse me for troubling you,” said the gentleman in raccoon, “but I … I really don’t know … you will pardon me, no doubt; you see, I am a little upset….”
Only then the young man in the wadded overcoat observed that this gentleman in the raccoon furs certainly was upset. His wrinkled face was rather pale, his voice was trembling. He was evidently in some confusion of mind, his words did not flow easily from his tongue, and it could be seen that it cost him a terrible effort to present a very humble request to a personage possibly his inferior in rank or condition, in spite of the urgent necessity of addressing his request to somebody. And indeed the request was in any case unseemly, undignified, strange, coming from a man who had such a dignified fur coat, such a respectable jacket of a superb dark green colour, and such distinguished decorations adorning that jacket. It was evident that the gentleman in raccoon was himself confused by all this, so that at last he could not stand it, but made up his mind to suppress his emotion and politely to put an end to the unpleasant position he had himself brought about.
“Excuse me, I am not myself: but it is true you don’t know me … forgive me for disturbing you; I have changed my mind.”
Here, from politeness, he raised his hat and hurried off.
“But allow me….”
The little gentleman had, however, vanished into the darkness, leaving the gentleman in the wadded overcoat in a state of stupefaction.
“What a queer fellow!” thought the gentleman in the wadded overcoat. After wondering, as was only natural, and recovering at last from his stupefaction, he bethought him of his own affairs, and began walking to and fro, staring intently at the gates of a house with an endless number of storeys. A fog was beginning to come on, and the young man was somewhat relieved at it, for his walking up and down was less noticeable in the fog, though indeed no one could have noticed him but some cabman who had been waiting all day without a fare.
“Excuse me!”
The young man started again; again the gentleman in raccoon was standing before him.
“Excuse me again ..,” he began, “but you … you are no doubt an honourable man! Take no notice of my social position … but I am getting muddled … look at it as man to man … you see before you, sir, a man craving a humble favour….”
“If I can…. What do you want?”
“You imagine, perhaps, that I am asking for money,” said the mysterious gentleman, with a wry smile, laughing hysterically and turning pale.
“Oh, dear, no.”
“No, I see that I am tiresome to you! Excuse me, I cannot bear myself; consider that you are seeing a man in an agitated condition, almost of insanity, and do not draw any conclusion….”
“But to the point, to the point,” responded the young man, nodding his head encouragingly and impatiently.
“Now think of that! A young man like you reminding me to keep to the point, as though I were some heedless boy! I must certainly be doting!… How do I seem to you in my degrading position? Tell me frankly.”
The young man was overcome with confusion, and said nothing.
“Allow me to ask you openly: have you not seen a lady? That is all that I have to ask you,” the gentleman in the raccoon coat said resolutely at last.
“Lady?”
“Yes, a lady.”
“Yes, I have seen … but I must say lots of them have passed….”
“Just so,” answered the mysterious gentleman, with a bitter smile. “I am muddled, I did not mean to ask that; excuse me, I meant to say, haven’t you seen a lady in a fox fur cape, in a dark velvet hood and a black veil?”
“No, I haven’t noticed one like that … no. I think I haven’t seen one.”
“Well, in that case, excuse me!”
The young man wanted to ask a question, but the gentleman in raccoon vanished again; again he left his patient listener in a state of stupefaction.
“Well, the devil take him!” thought the young man in the wadded overcoat, evidently troubled.
With annoyance he turned up his beaver collar, and began cautiously walking to and fro again before the gates of the house of many storeys. He was raging inwardly.
“Why doesn’t she come out?” he thought. “It will soon be eight o’clock.”
The town clock struck eight.
“Oh, devil take you!”
“Excuse me!…”
“Excuse me for speaking like that … but you came upon me so suddenly that you quite frightened me,” said the young man, frowning and apologising.
“Here I am again. I must strike you as tiresome and queer.”
“Be so good as to explain at once, without more ado; I don’t know what it is you want….”
“You are in a hurry. Do you see, I will tell you everything openly, without wasting words. It cannot be helped. Circumstances sometimes bring together people of very different characters…. But I see you are impatient, young man…. So here … though I really don’t know how to tell you: I am looking for a lady (I have made up my mind to tell you all about it). You see, I must know where that lady has gone. Who she is — I imagine there is no need for you to know her name, young man.”
“Well, well, what next?”
“What next? But what a tone you take with me! Excuse me, but perhaps I have offended you by calling you young man, but I had nothing … in short, if you are willing to do me a very great service, here it is: a lady — that is, I mean a gentlewoman of a very good family, of my acquaintance … I have been commissioned … I have no family, you see….”
“Oh!”
“Put yourself in my position, young man (ah, I’ve done it again; excuse me, I keep calling you young man). Every minute is precious…. Only fancy, that lady … but cannot you tell me who lives in this house?”
“But … lots of people live here.”
“Yes, that is, you are perfectly right,” answered the gentleman in raccoon, giving a slight laugh for the sake of good manners. “I feel I am rather muddled…. But why do you take that tone? You see, I admit frankly that I am muddled, and however haughty you are, you have seen enough of my humiliation to satisfy you…. I say a lady of honourable conduct, that is, of light tendencies — excuse me, I am so confused; it is as though I were speaking of literature — Paul de Kock is supposed to be of light tendencies, and all the trouble comes from him, you see….”
The young man looked compassionately at the gentleman in raccoon, who seemed in a hopeless muddle and pausing, stared at him with a meaningless smile and with a trembling hand for no apparent reason gripped the lappet of his wadded overcoat.
“You ask who lives here?” said the young man, stepping back a little.
“Yes; you told me lots of people live here.”
“Here … I know that Sofya Ostafyevna lives here, too,” the young man brought out in a low and even commiserating tone.
“There, you see, you see! You know something, young man?”
“I assure you I don’t, I know nothing … I judged from your troubled air….”
“I have just learned from the cook that she does come here; but you are on the wrong tack, that is, with Sofya Ostafyevna … she does not know her….”
“No? Oh … I beg your pardon, then….”
“I see this is of no interest to you, young man,” said the queer man, with bitter irony.
“Listen,” said the young man, hesitating. “I really don’t understand why you are in such a state, but tell me frankly, I suppose you are being deceived?” The young man smiled approvingly. “We shall understand one another, anyway,” he added, and his whole person loftily betrayed an inclination to make a half-bow.
“You crush me! But I frankly confess that is just it … but it happens to every one!… I am deeply touched by your sympathy. To be sure, among young men … though I am not young; but you know, habit, a bachelor life, among bachelors, we all know….”
“Oh, yes, we all know, we all know! But in what way can I be of assistance to you?”
