notes from underground

She found her husband in his study. He was sitting at his desk pondering something. His face had a stern, pensive, guilty look. This was not the Peter who had been arguing during the meal and whom the guests knew, but someone quite different – exhausted, guilty, dissatisfied with himself – whom only his wife knew. He must have gone into the study for some cigarettes. An open case lay before him, full of cigarettes, and one hand was resting in the desk drawer. He seemed to have frozen at the moment of taking them out.

Olga felt sorry for him. It was as clear as daylight that he was exhausted, worried, and perhaps engaged in a battle against himself. Olga silently went over to the desk. Wanting to prove to him that she had forgotten the arguments over dinner and that she was no longer angry, she shut the cigarette case and put it in his side pocket.

‘What shall I tell him?’ she wondered. ‘I’ll say that deceitfulness is like a swamp, the further you go in, the harder it is to get out. Then I’ll tell him: you’ve been carried away by that false role you’ve been acting out, you’ve gone too far. You’ve insulted people who were devoted to you and did you no harm. So please go and apologize to them, have a good laugh at yourself and you’ll feel better. And if you want peace and solitude, let’s go away from here together.’