Голод
Part I
Mydevilmentwaxedapace,andIfollowedthem.Atthesametime,IwasfullyconsciousthatIwasplayingamadprankwithoutbeingabletostopmyself.Mydisorderedconditionranawaywithme;Iwasinspiredwiththecraziestnotions,whichIfollowedblindlyastheycametome.Icouldn’thelpit,nomatterhowmuchItoldmyselfthatIwasplayingthefool.Imadethemostidioticgrimacesbehindthelady’sback,andcoughedfranticallyasIpassedherby.Walkingoninthismanner—veryslowly,andalwaysafewstepsinadvance—Ifelthereyesonmyback,andinvoluntarilyputdownmyheadwithshameforhavingcausedherannoyance.Bydegrees,awonderfulfeelingstoleovermeofbeingfar,farawayinotherplaces;Ihadahalf-undefinedsensethatitwasnotIwhowasgoingalongoverthegravelhangingmyhead.
Afewminuteslater,theyreachedPascha’sbookshop.Ihadalreadystoppedatthefirstwindow,andastheygobyIstepforwardandrepeat:
"Youarelosingyourbook,madam!"
"No;whatbook?"sheasksaffrightedly."Canyoumakeoutwhatbookitisheistalkingabout?"andshecomestoastop.
Ihugmyselfwithdelightatherconfusion;theirresoluteperplexityinhereyespositivelyfascinatesme.Hermindcannotgraspmyshort,passionateaddress.
