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"Now we'll make a fight for it," he said, with a malicious smile,

as he went down the stairs. His malice was aimed at himself; with

shame and contempt he recollected his "cowardice."

PART V

CHAPTER I

The morning that followed the fateful interview with Dounia and

her mother brought sobering influences to bear on Pyotr

Petrovitch. Intensely unpleasant as it was, he was forced little

by little to accept as a fact beyond recall what had seemed to

him only the day before fantastic and incredible. The black snake

of wounded vanity had been gnawing at his heart all night. When

he got out of bed, Pyotr Petrovitch immediately looked in the

looking-glass. He was afraid that he had jaundice. However his

health seemed unimpaired so far, and looking at his noble,

clear-skinned countenance which had grown fattish of late, Pyotr

Petrovitch for an instant was positively comforted in the

conviction that he would find another bride and, perhaps, even a

better one. But coming back to the sense of his present position,

he turned aside and spat vigorously, which excited a sarcastic

smile in Andrey Semyonovitch Lebeziatnikov, the young friend with

whom he was staying.