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"It was my mistake, too, not to have given them money," he

thought, as he returned dejectedly to Lebeziatnikov's room, "and

why on earth was I such a Jew? It was false economy! I meant to

keep them without a penny so that they should turn to me as their

providence, and look at them! foo! If I'd spent some fifteen

hundred roubles on them for the trousseau and presents, on

knick-knacks, dressing-cases, jewellery, materials, and all that

sort of trash from Knopp's and the English shop, my position

would have been better and... stronger! They could not have

refused me so easily! They are the sort of people that would feel

bound to return money and presents if they broke it off; and they

would find it hard to do it! And their conscience would prick

them: how can we dismiss a man who has hitherto been so generous

and delicate?.... H'm! I've made a blunder."

And grinding his teeth again, Pyotr Petrovitch called himself a

fool--but not aloud, of course.