Page 582 - the-idiot

and I used to prove to him that he had no one to blame but
himself for his poverty. I used to be so angry that I think
I frightened him eventually, for he stopped coming to see
me. He was a most meek and humble fellow, was Surikoff.
(N.B.— They say that meekness is a great power. I must ask
the prince about this, for the expression is his.) But I re-
member one day in March, when I went up to his lodgings
to see whether it was true that one of his children had been
starved and frozen to death, I began to hold forth to him
about his poverty being his own fault, and, in the course of
my remarks, I accidentally smiled at the corpse of his child.
Well, the poor wretch’s lips began to tremble, and he caught
me by the shoulder, and pushed me to the door. ‘Go out,’
he said, in a whisper. I went out, of course, and I declare I
LIKED it. I liked it at the very moment when I was turned
out. But his words filled me with a strange sort of feeling of
disdainful pity for him whenever I thought of them—a feel-
ing which I did not in the least desire to entertain. At the
very moment of the insult (for I admit that I did insult him,
though I did not mean to), this man could not lose his tem-
per. His lips had trembled, but I swear it was not with rage.
He had taken me by the arm, and said, ‘Go out,’ without the
least anger. There was dignity, a great deal of dignity, about
him, and it was so inconsistent with the look of him that,
I assure you, it was quite comical. But there was no anger.
Perhaps he merely began to despise me at that moment.
‘Since that time he has always taken off his hat to me on
the stairs, whenever I met him, which is a thing he never
did before; but he always gets away from me as quickly as

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