TheSublimes Oldtyper SM PDF

The
SUB
LIMES
YURI MAMLEYEV
THE SUBLIMES
Yu r i M a m l e y e v
Translated from the Russian

by Marian Schwartz
AU T
H E
UL
C
TUR
Haute Culture Books

First edition April 2014
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CONTENTS
T h e S u bl i m e s
Part One 7
Part Two 121
(Original Russian Version)

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 275
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 397
Part One
I
Inthespring of1960-something, anevening commuter

train slashed thedarkness ofthesmall towns andfor-
ests outside Moscow, carrying its sounds rhythmically
away, farther andfarther. Inside, the train cars were
bright andnearly empty. People sat frozen, asifspell-
bound, as if theyd tuned out from everything they
normally did, from life itself, and didnt know where
this train was taking them.
There were all ofseven people inthemiddle car.
A disheveled old woman stared into a sack of pota-
toes, nearly falling into it face first. Astrapping fellow
chewed an onion the whole time, peering straight
ahead into the emptiness with a frightened and be-
mused look. Afat woman was curled upinto aball so
you couldnt even see her face.
While he sat inthecornerFyodor Sonnov.
He was abulky man offorty orso, with anodd, in-
ward-looking, dully fixed face; the expression on this
large, furrowed, andwrinkly plane was brutally alienated
and self-absorbed while also aimed at the worldbut
7
aimed only inthesense that, for theowner ofthis face,

it was asiftheworld didnt exist.
Fyodor was dressed simply and his gray, slightly
ripped jacket covered his large belly, which he kept
sucking in, in a focused way, occasionally slapping it
asifhis belly were his second faceeyeless andmouth-
less, butperhaps even more real.
The way Fyodor breathed out made it sound
as if he were actually taking air in. Sonnovs eyes,
bleary from his bulky existence, kept scrutinizing the
people sitting there.
He practically skewered them tohis gaze, although
his inner being itself passed straight through them,
asifthrough acondensed emptiness.
Finally, the train slowed. The little people trailed
each other totheexit, wagging their behinds. Fyodor
rose with thesame feeling anelephant does.
Thestation was small, cozily lost among persistent,
lopsided little wooden houses. Assoon asthelittle people
hopped onto theplatform, their folly slipped away and,
after bizarrely reviving, they ran offonward, onward!
The sack lady carried her sack to a dark fence,
leaned over, andshat init.
Thestrapping fellow didnt run; he galloped for-
ward, inleaps andbounds, comfortably swinging his
paws. Evidently, life was beginning. Fyodor, however,
was unaltered. He meandered, swiveling his head,
examining his surroundings, as if hed just landed
from themoon.
8
THE SUBLIMES
Onthecentral square, amangy cur ofabusno,

two buseswere parked alongside each other. One was
nearly empty. Theother was so crammed with people,
it even emitted a voluptuous sputtering. But Sonnov
ignored all that folderol.
Walking past a pole, out of the blue he punched
asolitary lad wandering nearby right inthejaw. Though
theblow was hard andthelad sprawled into aditch,
itwas delivered with such inward indifference, Sonnov
might aswell have been poking theemptiness, except
that aphysical shudder passed through his bulky body.
He walked on, benumbed asever, glancing atthepoles.
It took thelad along time torecover from thebizarre
expression on Sonnovs face when he dealt the punch,
andbythetime he did, Sonnov was long gone.
Fyodor wandered down a narrow street, darkly
maddened byabsurd, ugly houses. Suddenly he stopped
andsat down inthegrass. He lifted his shirt andstarted
slapping his belly, deliberately, with meaning andsig-
nificance, as if his consciousness were focused in his
hand. He looked atthetreetops andsnarled atthestars.
Andbegan tosing.
He sang like an anguished animal, coughing
words through his rotten teeth. It was a nonsensi-
cal song criminals sang. Finally Fyodor hiked uphis
pants, stood up, andslapped himself onthebackside,
as if propelling himself forward with a new thought
born inhis brain: towalk til kingdom come. Finally,
he turned into a dense forest. The trees there were
9
exalted now, no longer grown from their former ele-

ment; not too badly soiled with vomit ortrash, they
simply shone from within with a turbid human de-
generacy andaffliction. It wasnt thegrass that was
cropped buthuman souls.
Fyodor strayed offthepath. Anhour later, he saw
a dark human silhouette a ways off walking toward
him. Then it turned into theangular figure ofafellow
ofabout twenty-six. Atfirst Sonnov didnt react tohim,
butthen he suddenly showed akeen, dead interest.
Got asmoke? he asked thefellow glumly.
The fellow, his stupid face all cheerful, rummaged
through his pockets asifhe were playing with his penis.
Right then, Fyodor gave a convulsive grunt,
asiftossing back aglass ofvodka, andplanted anenor-
mous carving knife in the fellows belly, the kind
ofknife ordinarily used toslaughter livestock.
Pressing the fellow up against a tree, Fyodor dug
theknife around inthemans belly, asiftrying tofind
andkill some unknown butliving thing inthere. Then
he calmly laid the corpse out on Gods green grass
anddragged him offtotheside, toward aglade.
At that moment the moon was bared, high
intheblack sky. Adeadly golden light flooded theglade,
therustling grass, andthetree stumps.
Fyodor, his face now mellow, sat onastump, took
offhis cap infront ofthecorpse, andchecked thedead
mans pocket for a passport. Fyodor didnt touch
themoney, buthe did look atthepassport toget aname.
10
THE SUBLIMES
A visitor, from far away, Grigory. Sonnov was

touched. Mustve been onyour way home.
His movements were deliberate, calm, andrather
affectionate; evidently he had committed quite a fa-
miliar deed.
He took a bundle of sandwiches from his pocket,
set them onapiece ofnewspaper near thedeceaseds
head, andreadily started his dinner, taking his time.
He ate with relish, not disdaining thecrumbs. Atlast,
he calmly packed upthemeals remains inhis bundle.
Well now, Grisha, Sonnov said, wiping his mouth,
now we can have alittle talk. Eh? He patted Grigorys
dead cheek affectionately.
Then he coughed and, once he was comfortably
seated, he lit up.
Im going totell you about theway Ilive, Grigory,
Sonnov continued, theself-absorption onhis face sud-
denly replaced byarather smug benevolence, butfirst
about my childhood, about who I am and where
intheworld Icame from. Imean, about my parents.
That papa ofmine told me all there was toknow about
himself, so Ican tell it toyou. My father was asimple
man, lively butstern ofheart. He didnt spend aminute
inpublic without anax. So Ifhed been surrounded
byasmuch softness asresistance He was melancholy
about females because you cant spend all your days
with logs. He just couldnt find awoman. Atlast he did
find one tohis liking, theone who was mother tome.
He tested her for a long time, but that papa of mine
11
liked to recall the very last test. You see, Grigory,

my father had a whole load of money. One time he
took my motherIrina, that istoalonely cabin deep
in the forest. He led her to understand that he had
some money hidden away there, money no one knew
about. Well The way hed set it up, my mother de-
cided, no one knew about thetrip andeveryone thought
that papa of mine had gone off on his own to work,
forawhole year. Hed set everything upso astolead
mama dear into immaculate temptation, and if she
got it into her head to kill him, to take the money
forherself, she could be sure there was no danger. See,
Grigory? Sonnov paused briefly. Itwouldve been hard
toimagine him so talkative before.
He went on.
So theres that papa of mine sitting one evening
in a remote cabin with my mother, Irina. Pretending
to be a real simpleton. And he sees Irinas all worked
up, butshes trying tohide it. Her white breast is heav-
ing, upanddown. Night fell. That papa ofmine lay down
inaseparate bed andpretended he was asleep. Snored.
Buttotally aware. Darkness fell. Suddenly he heard my
mother get upvery, very quietly, her breath barely flut-
tering. She got upandwent tothecornerfortheax.
My papas ax was giganticit could split abear intwo.
Irina picked uptheax andwalked toward my fathers
bed so you could barely hear her. She got very close.
Assoon asshe swung it back, that papa ofmine gave
her aswift kick inthebelly. He jumped upandcrushed
12
THE SUBLIMES
her beneath himself. Andhad her then andthere. Iwas

born from that conception. Because ofthat incident, my
father loved Irina very much. Straight off, thevery next
daya wedding, church. And they never ever parted.
Got a head on her shoulders she has, he said about
her. No namby-pamby. If she hadnt come after me
with theax, Inever wouldve married her. Butthat way
Icould tellshe was tough. No tears forher. Hed say
that andusually give her aslap onthebackside. Butthat
didnt embarrass my mother. She just bared her angry
face, butshe respected my father. Thats thekind ofcon-
ceptionmurder, nearlythat led tomy birth. Why dont
you say something, Grigory? A shadow passed across
Fyodors face. Orarent Itelling it right, fool?
Clearly this unusual loquacity had sent Fyodor into
mild hysterics. He didnt like talking.
At last, Sonnov stood up. Hiked up his pants.
Leaned over thedead face.
Hey, where are you, Grigory? Where are you? he
started lamenting. Something womanly came over his
brutal face. Where are you? Are you going toanswer?
Where did you get to, you son of a bitch? Hiding
under astump? Astump? You think just because you
crapped outyoure safe from me? Eh? Iknow! Iknow
where you are! You arent getting away! Youre hiding
under astump!
Sonnov suddenly went over to a nearby stump
andstarted kicking it furiously. Thestump was rotten
andcrumbled under his kicks.
13
Whered you get to, you son of a bitch? Fyodor

howled. Suddenly he stopped. Where are you, Grigory?
Where are you? You hear me? Wipe that smirk offyour
face! Are you going toanswer me?
Answer me! came anecho. Themoon suddenly
hid. Darkness gripped the forest and the trees co-
alesced inthedark.
Sonnov skulked offinto theforest, snapping in-
visible branches.
Come morning, when thesun rose, warmth andlife
seemed to permeate the glade from within. The trees
andgrass shone, andwater gurgled deep intheground.
The corpse lay under a tree, like a rotten, aban-
doned log. No one had seen ordisturbed it. Suddenly,
a man emerged from the bushes; grunting, he looked
around indifferently. It was Fyodor. The same worn
jacket hung onhim like acrumpled sack.
He hadnt been able toget very far andhad spent
thenight intheforest, byafallen tree, blindly confi-
dent that all would go well.
Now, evidently, hed decided tobid Grigory farewell.
His face held not a trace of the previous nights
hysterics. Hed drawn himself inward andwas looking
at the outside world woozily, puzzled. At last Fyodor
found Grigorytheway people usually find mushrooms.
Casually, he sat down beside him.
His idiotic habit of eating near the dead man
returned now, too. Fyodor unwrapped his bundle
andate his breakfast.
14
THE SUBLIMES
Well, Grigory, youre not thefirst andyou wont be

thelast, he suddenly muttered after along andindiffer-
ent silence. He was gazing not so much atthedeceaseds
forehead asattheempty space around him.
There was a lot I didnt get to say, Sonnov said
suddenly. It got dark. Ill say it now. Whom he was
addressing now was unclear. Fyodor wasnt look-
ing atthecorpse atall anymore. My mother had two
of us kids, me and my sister Klavdia. But my foolish-
ness scared my mother. I beat her bloody, on the sly,
because I didnt know who I was or where Id come
from. Shed point to her belly, but Id tell her, Wrong
answer, bitch. That wasnt what I was asking. That
had been going on for I dont know how long when,
asayoung man, Istarted working atthelife-boat sta-
tion. Iwas acurly-head then. Butnot talkative. People
were afraid ofme, butthey knew Id always keep mum.
Theguys, therescuers, were simple, cheerful. They had
abig operation going. They drowned people. Theyd dive
inthewater anddrown them. They did what they did
cleverly, without a hitch. Sometimes the families had
second thoughtssupposedly the guys were searching
for people who might have drowned, but they always
dragged out a corpse. The men were given a reward.
Theyd drink uptheprize money orspend it onwomen;
some bought pants. Out of respect, they took me on.
Idrowned deftly, simply, andwithout amoments hesita-
tion. Isent my share back tothat father ofmine, home.
Later it became second nature tome, tobury whoever
15
I drowned. Their families would arrange a celebration

inmy honor; they thought, What along-suffering res-
cuer, and I never turned them down. Especially their
vodka. Iliked todrink. Later, though, something started
eating atme. Id look atthedeceased andthink, Where
did the person go to, eh? Where did the person go?
I started to think he was hovering in the emptiness
around the dead body. Sometimes I didnt think any-
thing. ButIstarted toalways look atthedead person
asifIwere trying tolook into theemptiness. One day
I drowned a little boy, just a chick he was; he went
tothebottom so confidently, without fear. That same day
Idreamt he was sticking his tongue outandlaughing,
asiftosay, You fool, youre lying through your teeth.
You drowned me, but the next worlds even sweeter.
And now you cant get me. I leapt up in a sweat,
asifIhad cholera. Barely morning inthevillage, Iwent
to the forest, thinking, Im not doing anything seri-
ous. This is one big joke. Its like killing goats. One hop
and theyre in the next world, easy as pie. I thought,
Ikilled. Butwhat ifit was just adream?
AsIwas walking, Icame across alittle girl. Istran-
gled her, Iwas so angry, andIthought. Thats so much
nicer, so much nicer, tosee someone go offinto theemp-
tiness with my own eyes. Bysome miracle, Iwas lucky.
Themurder was never solved. After that Igot more cau-
tious. Iquit thelife-savers because my urge tokill was
too blatant. Asit was, Ikept being drawn toit, asifwith
each murder Iwere solving apuzzle: Who am Ikilling?
What do they see? What ifIm killing thefairytale while
16
THE SUBLIMES
theessence slips away? So Istarted roaming theworld.

As it is, I dont know what Im doing, who Im touch-
ing, who Im talking to. Im inacomplete funk. Grigory,
Grigory Hey? Is that you? he muttered calmly
andequably into theemptiness, suddenly flagging.
At last, he stood up. A strange contentment per-
sisted onhis face.
Mechanically, butinanexperienced, knowledge-
able way, he tidied up all the traces. And then he
went deeper.
A narrow, winding path eventually led him
outoftheforest. Inthedistance he saw asmall, iso-
lated station.
He stepped into thebushes tofool around alittle.
What can Isay about Grigory, he thought later, when
Idont even know whether Iexist?
He turned his ugly face up and looked through
thebushes, tothenow visible expanses. Either he had no
thoughts orthey galloped contrary tonatures existence.
He was warm bythetime he reached thestation.
He sat atthecounter with abeer.
The sensation of beer now seemed like the sole
reality on earth. He plunged his thoughts into this
sensation and they evaporated. In spirit, he kissed
theinside ofhis belly andfell still.
Atrain was approaching from far off. Fyodor sud-
denly came tolife. Back tomy nest, my nest!
Andhe slipped bulkily through thetrains open door.
17
II
The small town of Lebedinoye, outside Moscow,

which Fyodor reached at noon, was isolated even
inandofitself.
Whatever people did here, it was strictly forthem-
selves. So inwardly bereft was the work that went
oninthis corner oftheworld that it seemed acontin-
uation oftheinhabitants selves.
After work, some dug intheir gardens, asifdig-
ging their own graves; some whittled sticks; some
tended totheir feet.
Loose and mismatched, the single-story wooden
houses in the greenery broke your heart, they were
so lonely. Here and there, sticks occasionally poked
outoftheground.
Thehouse Fyodor was nearing stood ontheout-
skirts, to one side, shut off from the other houses
byahigh fence andfrom thesky byasolid metal roof.
The house was divided into two large halves.
Afamily, simple folk, lived ineach andthehouse had
lots ofannexes andnooks, dim crannies andhuman
burrowsandahuge cellar that extended deep under-
ground, aswell.
Fyodor knocked at the heavy door in the fence.
It opened onawoman standing atthethreshold. She
shrieked, Fedya! Fedya!
18
THE SUBLIMES
The woman was about thirty-five and full-fig-

ured; her backside poked out significantly, forming
two huge, voluptuous mushrooms; her sloping shoul-
ders were pampered andsoft; her flabby face was so
full astoseem indeterminate ofexpression atfirst;
her eyes were cloudy and looked as if they were
licking the whole world, plunging it into slumber;
andthere was avulnerable amazement atthebottom
of her eyes. Naturally, all this was visible only
totheintent, loving gaze.
Outwardly, her mouth didnt go with her puffy face;
it was thin, sinuous andnervous, andvery smart.
Yes, me! Fyodor replied and, spitting inthewom-
ans face, he started down the path to the house.
Thewoman followed him asifnothing had happened.
They ended upinasimple, rather vulgar room:
little pots of pathetic flowers on the windowsills,
cute watercolors, large unwieldy furniture, sweat-
stained chairs. Butall ofit bore theinsular, symbolic
trace of some kind of corner, as if the secret spirit
ofseparateness had passed through these tacky, or-
dinary things.
Here youve come, andIwas thinking youd wan-
dered off. Theworld is great, thewoman said.
Sonnov was resting on the couch. His awful face
sagged like asleeping childs.
Thewoman lovingly tidied thetable, cradling each
cup like a womans warm breast. A couple of hours
later, they were sitting atthetable together talking.
19
Thewoman spoke alot, while Sonnov kept silent,

occasionally opening his eyes wide at his saucer.
Thewoman was his sister Klava.
Well, how was it, Fedya? Had enough ofroaming?
She grinned. Get your fill ofhens andcocks backsides?
Still asthoughtful asever. Asifevery door were closed
toyou. Thats why youre so much tomy liking, Fyodor.
She spoke muddily, but forcefully, enveloping Sonnov
with her warm, rotten gaze. Foryour twistedness, too!
She winked. Remember chasing down thetrain? Eh?
Im not inthemood foryou now, Klava. Im just
not, Sonnov mumbled in response. Lately Ive been
dreaming nothing but devils. Its like theyve been
passing through me.
Atthat moment there was aknock.
Its ours come over. Thehobgoblins. Klava winked
attheceiling.
It was theSonnovs neighbors, theones who lived
intheother half ofthis homely andneglected house.
Weve come for a look at your rowdy, Klav, old
man Kolya said. He had a small, very youthful face,
childlike inplaces, anddroopy jug ears.
Rather than respond, Klava silently started set-
ting outchairs. She went into states when she looked
at people as if they were shadows. At least then she
never flew offthehandle.
Pasha KrasnorukovKolyas son-in-law, agreat big
skinny fellow of about thirty-three with an inanity-
swollen facesat down next to Fyodor, who hadnt
20
THE SUBLIMES
budged. Pashas wife Lidochka stood off to one side;

she was pregnant, butyou could barely tell, so skill-
fully did she hold herself in; her face was constantly
giggling inobtuse felicity, asifshe were perpetually
sipping some invisible fruity drink. Time and again,
her small, delicate hands would dart outatsomething.
Mila, Lidochkas younger sister, a girl of fourteen
or so, sat down on the couch; her pale, translucent
face expressed nothing. Her seventeen-year-old brother
Petya slipped into the corner by the stove; he com-
pletely ignored everyone andfolded inonhimself.
Thus the entire Krasnorukov-Fomichev clan
assembled. Klava lived alone; Sonnov was visiting
fortheumpteenth time.
Meanwhile, Fyodor ignored them atfirst, butsoon
his gaze, asheavy astheplanet Earth, began tosettle
onfolded-inPetya.
Petyas our dashing boy! Klava said, noticing
his glance.
What was, infact, different about Petenka was that
he cultivated onhis scrawny, sinewy body various colo-
nies offungi, herpes, andpustules, which he later scraped
offandate. He even made soup from them, thus feeding
himself mostly athis own expense. He barely recognized
other food. It was no wonder he was so skinny; nonethe-
less, life clung tohis long, pimply-faced figure.
Hes going to scrape the herpes off his throat
again, old man Kolya said softly, butdont you look.
Andhe batted his eyes.
21
Truth be toldstrange though it seemed andcom-

pletely outofcharacter though it wasFyodor actually
envied Petya. He may have been theone person Sonnov
did envy. Forthis reason, Sonnov stood upbulkily, all
ofasudden, andwent totheouthouse, not toreappear
aslong astheguests remained intheroom.
Klavochka barely reacted to the shadows; her
puffy face was plunged into a dream in which she
saw Fyodors bulging ass. So only the guests talked
intheroom, asifthey were thehosts.
Old man Kolya, instead of asking Klava about
Fyodors visit, loudly constructed various idiotic
assumptions.
Sonnov came here tosee his sister often, butvan-
ished just assuddenly, andnone oftheFomichevs knew
where he lived orroamed.
Once, a couple of years before, a few hours after
hed suddenly vanished, someone called theFomichevs
from very far away and said hed just seen Fyodor
there onthebeach.
Lidochka listened toold man Kolya attentively
notto the meaning ofhis words, buttosomething
she thought hidden behind them, independent ofold
man Kolya.
Thats what was behind her stinky, lewd, little puck-
ered-white face, sniggering asshe looked attheempty
cup byFyodors empty place.
Pavelher husbandwas covered inheavy crimson
blotches. Mila was playing with her pinkie.
22
THE SUBLIMES
Finally thefamily, led byold man Kolya, stood up,

lamely took their leave, andwent back totheir half.
Only Petya stayed inthecorner foralong time,
andwhen he did scrape himself off, no one butSonnov
noticed.
Klava tidied up the room, splashed water on her
face, andwent outinto theyard. Fyodor was already
sitting onthebench.
Well, are those hobgoblins gone? he asked
indifferently.
You andIare fine ones, Fedya, Klava replied simply.
Well, no better than anyone else, Fyodor thought.
There was still plenty of time, so Fyodor decided
to go for a walk. But the sun was already dropping
tothehorizon, illuminating this small towns deserted
lanes almost playfully.
It wasnt so much themurder that had worn Fyodor
outashis conversation over thecorpse. He barely ever
talked totheliving, andeven with thedead itwent
against his grain. When he made these speeches,
it was as if he were drawn by a power from beyond
thegrave. He wasnt himself, he didnt recognize him-
self speaking, andit left him wasted foralong time,
but qualitatively hed always been wasted like that.
He meandered down the street and, spitting into
theemptiness, noted dispassionately that Grigory was
a stranger, from far away, that they werent likely
to find the corpse any time soon, and when they
did, theyd just shrug, andso on. Atthebeer stand,
23
indifferent, he punched aguy intheteeth whod just

happened toturn around. He polished offtwo mugs,
scratched his knee, and headed back, mentally scat-
tering thehouses around him. Assoon ashe entered
theroom, he collapsed onthebed.
Klava leaned over his warm, sleep-gray face.
Guess you finished someone off, Fedya. She
grinned. Make your dreams sweeter, did it? Klava tick-
led his penis andthen hid inthedark ofanearby nook.
24
III
The Sonnovs had known the Fomichevs since child-

hood. ButPavel Krasnorukov had shown upfive years
before, after marrying Lidochka.
Before her marriage, the only thing in the world
Lidochka had recognized were insects, and then only
theugly andlewd ones; because ofthat, she bummed
around garbage heaps fordays onend.
Pavel had her the first time near a huge, de-
composing garbage pit; she writhed and jerked like
an insect, pressing her wrinkledly blissful little
face into Pavels jacket, andthen sniggered absurdly
foralong time.
But none of that particularly bothered Pavel; he
was much more bothered bytheworld asawhole, which
he always gazed upon with his mouth wide open. He
made no distinctions init and, atbottom, thought life
was just anadd-ontothesex act.
This was why he was flattered byLidochkas brazen
sexuality. He himself, forinstance, felt that his heart
was located inhis penis andtherefore didnt hold much
stock indoctors.
Lidochkas light, sewery andairy quasi-imbecility
simplified theintervals from coitus tocoitus forhim.
More than once hed patted her blissfully sniggering
little face andlooked into her eyesasusual with his
25
mouth open. Buthe didnt even laugh when he did.

Lidochka clung to his powerful figure with her ex-
ceptionally filthy, delicate hands. These little hands
were so filthy, it seemed they were endlessly digging
inher genitalia.
They cant without filth, old man Kolya usually
said affectionately, wiggling his ears.
Pashas savage, ton-of-bricks sexuality was also
to Lidochkas taste. Often, sitting with turbid eyes
at the common dining table, she would tug Pavel
bythepenis.
Often she dragged Pasha offit was her constant,
blissful habittogo copulate near some garbage heap.
Pavel didnt even notice where they were copulating.
Ayear later, though, it was discovered that Pasha
was nonetheless a very difficult and hard man, even
foralady like Lidochka.
The first dim, meager suspicion arose one day
onawalk around apond where lots ofchildren were
playing; Pavel got ugly; his eyes filled with blood andhe
watched thejumping kids very uneasily, asifhe wished
he could drown them.
Even before this, Lidochka was a little surprised
that Pasha would howl savagely, like a wild animal
being slaughtered, during coitus; afterward he would
roll on the floor or the grass, biting his own hands
out of sheer sensuality, as if they werent his hands
buttwo huge penises. Andall thewhile he paid no at-
tention toanything buthis pleasure.
26
THE SUBLIMES
Of course, she was unable to connect this fact

in her mind with Pavels attitude toward children,
but when Lidochkafour years agostarted to grow
abelly forthefirst time, it all came outintheopen,
as if the shadow from Pashas hanging chin were ad-
vancing ontheworld.
Atfirst, Pasha looked ather belly with nervously
mute amazement.
Whered you get that, Lida? he asked cautiously.
When Lida said from him, his whole large, ponder-
ous body shuddered.
He kept sleeping with her asbefore, blindly, crazed.
Sometimes, though, harshly, through his teeth, he
would say, Ishould rip your belly open. Rip it open!
Thebigger it got, thegreater Pashas unease.
He looked forchances toshove Lidochka andonce
poured hot soup onher belly.
In her ninth month, Pasha exhaled into her face
and said, If you have it, Ill slit that pups throat.
Iwill. Lidochka had it nearly right onschedule, athome,
atthedining room table.
Pasha leapt up from the table like a scalded cat
anddashed tograb thebaby bythefeet.
Down the toilet with him. The toilet! he hol-
lered. (Forsome reason his hair was hanging over his
forehead.)
Old man Kolya rushed atPasha, scaring him with
aterrible look. Forsome reason, theold man had de-
cided that the baby was him, that he, himself, had
27
cleverly just sprung from Lidochka. Therefore, theold

man rushed zealously to defend himself. Somehow he
managed topush thedistraught Pasha outthedoor.
Buttheinfants presenceits heartrending chirp
sent Pavel into a savage fury and he tried to break
down thedoor, howling, Ill drown it! Ill drown it!
Pasha also had some trouble on this score pre-
viously, before Lidochka. The explanation was this:
He bore a twisted hatred of children because in all
theworld he recognized only his own naked sensuality,
as big as elephant ears covering the ground. All col-
lateral, intermediate, andsecondary elements troubled
andclouded his mind. Its not that theychildren in-
cludedgot inhis way. No, thereason wasnt practical.
Children simply troubled his mind with their detach-
ment from naked pleasure andflowed into his reason
theway adirty river flows into aclean lake, bringing
sediment, driftwood, filth, andjunk.
Why are children born from my gratification?
Krasnorukov often thought as he dashed through
afield. Where do children come in?
Whenever Pavel saw children, he would compare
them to his sensuality and lapse into a blind, in-
stinctive rage over the discrepancy. Subconsciously,
he wanted to fill the whole world with his sensual-
ity, all the space around himself, and his sensuality
seemed toexclude children; ifhed felt his own chil-
dren inareal way, ashimself, that is, say, ifhis kids
were like these apparently separate drops of sperm,
28
THE SUBLIMES
jumping andsinging songs, orrather, like tips ofhis

penis that he could feel and savor as if they were
on his body, then Krasnorukov wouldnt have had
anything against the little creatures; but children
were independent beings andKrasnorukov always felt
like drowning them in revenge for the fact that his
pleasure, rather than remain just his own, produced
absurd, defiant consequences separate from his moans
and screams: human beings. For Pavel, nothing ex-
isted other than his own howl ofsexual self-assertion,
andhe couldnt make sense ofthefact that children
must be born from his wild, sensuous feelings, which
belonged to him alone. He viewed this as a grave,
hostile challenge andwas prepared tochase children
those shadows ofhis pleasure, those nonentities from
his sensualitywith aknife, day andnight. All this
rested solidly inPavels consciousness, albeit inother
forms andwords.
They managed tospirit thechild away that time; old
man Kolya ran with him through thebushes, climbed
ontheroof, andeven hid thechild inachamber pot.
Absent little Mila took part, too. Only Petenka kept
uphis scraping inhis corner.
ButPasha wouldnt give up. Grave, with chin jut-
ting, he galloped around thehouse holding ahuge knife
athis chest. Then he ran offinto theforest.
Thestory resolved itself indirectly when thechild
died inits eighth day oflife. Thehalf-drunk doctor de-
termined it was theheart.
29
Fortunately, Lidochka was a simpleton when it

came to these kinds of disappearances; she seemed
toview babies asasweet bonus tocopulation. She did
shed afew tears, though not so many that she forgot
about coitus.
Peace reigned inthefamily immediately.
Everything went onasbefore.
A second timea year laterLida got pregnant
when Pasha got obsessively horny: he slept with her
a few times a day, chased after her, stumbling into
posts, andseemed ready torip thebark offtrees. He bit
himself andher until they bled.
Pasha was so terrifying that eventually Lidochka
promised him, inapanic, toget rid ofthechild. (Itwas
too late for a legal abortion.) This was dangerous
butfeasible; she had tohide somewhere outoftheway,
inacabin intheforest. Asuitable pond was chosen. All
around were amultitude ofunresurrected babies: sev-
eral toilets andgarbage dumps were heaped with tiny
red children, thefruits ofpremature birth. It was no
coincidence that awomens dormitory partied nearby.
Thecabin intheforest was cozy, with low ceilings,
andhad black spiderwebby corners andlow windows.
Every day, Pasha went tosee Lidochka and, ignor-
ing her belly, lay onher ferociously.
The matter ended unexpectedly and outrageously:
right before the birth, Pasha went wild and climbed
on Lidochka; on its way out, the child was supposed
toturn headfirst toward theexit, into thelight ofday,
30
THE SUBLIMES
butPasha, without even realizing it, smashed its head

with his penis. Lidochka wound up in the hospital
andthechild was stillborn with around, broken spot
on its sinciput. The story was hushed up. After this,
though, Pasha became thoroughly conceited; he de-
rived an ardent, scandalous satisfaction from killing
his pup with his own penis. Realizing this, he rolled
around onthegrass laughing foralong time.
It turned outtobe easy tomake things right with
simple Lidochka. Thebabies were only inyour mind,
old man Kolya kept telling her. Nonetheless, she stub-
bornly refused any abortions.
Pasha himself adjusted tofinishing offtheblessed
babesand a little earlier, in the seventh month
of pregnancyby tearing the amniotic sac with his
hysterical long penis.
Premature births followed andthebabesvery suc-
cessfully, bythewayalways came outdead; only one
time, having observed thescene with his mouth wide
open, did Pasha have doubts; he approached, squatted,
andgave thebundle ashake.
Andso, several years passed happily. Lidochka was
fine after these endings; she just got alittle distracted
andenjoyed theflowers atthegarbage heaps.
Now, before Sonnovs latest visit, Lidochka was,
infact, inthat condition andit was time toend it.
Her smiling face transparent andpleasure-stuck, she
said, pointing toher belly, Dead babies. Ihave dead
babies inside me.
31
IV
Theday after his arrival, Fyodor woke late andstarted

wandering through the house. Klava kept her eye
onhim; she was afraid hed go astray.
For Klava, life came hard without an objec-
tivized absurdity to offer some help to her soul,
andforher, this absurdity was Fyodor. He only eats
at night and kills people over nothing, Klava said,
deeply moved.
She was alittle sexual andgratified herself any way
she liked, from thenormal tothepsycho. Butshe often
thought ofFyodor when she did.
The more absurd the form of her sexual plea-
sure, the better she liked it. Sometimes, she would
stick thehead ofasmall, live goose upher womb. It
would flap its wings desperately, dropping feathers
onher belly. Mostly this was cumbersome andclumsy
andthegeese acted more asasymbol than ameans.
Forsure, God alone knew how she managed with all
these crazy props andwhat functions all these living
creatures filled. In her eyes, though, Fedya embod-
ied not only sexual absurdity, butconstant absurdity,
permanent absurdity even more.
She couldnt even bring herself tosleep with him,
and Fyodors own sex life was like a dark bucket
toher.
32
THE SUBLIMES
Klava followed Fyodor behind his back, like

a shadow, at a distance, as he staggered around
thehouses different nooks andsheds.
Just so he doesnt hang himself. For show, she
thought. But Id bury him here I have all kinds
ofnice money from our fathers business and my job
is almost domestic. Ishow uponce every other day!
Theyard attached totheFomichev-Sonnov home was
not divided inhalf byafence inthecustomary way and
several times, roaming through theyard, Fyodor found
himself on Fomichev territory. Old man Kolya would
call to him, in an attempt to start up a conversation.
ButFyodor turned adeaf ear toall ideas; only Petenka,
scraping himself in some corner by the fence, scared
him. Sometimes Fyodor was afraid oftruly strong people.
That was why he often roamed thenearby lanes, es-
pecially around thebeer stand.
True, beer and water were all the same to him
now, and one time he vaguely drank a mug of fruit
slush passed off on him instead of beer. He seemed
not tocare that thesurrounding houses were perma-
nently, irreally staggering; even theair was staggering
ordrowning inashroud, butthemoment he focused
onanything, that object surfaced from thegeneral il-
lusoriness and stabilized, although it remained just
asalluring andindefinite atits core.
When he drank beer orjust sat somewhere onabench,
Fyodor would put his hand onthehead ofwhatever lout
orurchin was handy forgreater stability.
33
Klava sensed with alarm that he instilled fear

inthose around him.
Several days passed inthis way. Fyodors presence
weighed on people. He scared old lady Mavka, their
neighbor, out of her wits by walking up to the hole
inher fence andstaring into her window with aheavy
gaze foralong time, acouple ofhours. Arumor started
that he caught kittens bythetail.
Things got bad when suddenly, while out walk-
ing around, he took theorphan girl from Dalny Lane
bythehand.
They said he played with theorphan asifshe were
adead kitten. ButSonnov, unembarrassed, just stared
into her face. He probably used her instead ofastick.
Things got worse when Fyodor, whod hidden from
Petenka before this, lay inwait and, outoftheblue, ate
thesoup Petenka had cooked from his own pustules.
There was a terrible uproar and Pavel was ready
tobeat Sonnov with abeam. Old man Kolyawho was
actually agrandfather only todead grandkidshopped
around Fyodor telling him toregurgitate thesoup.
Klava stepped inandled Fyodor into thehouse.
Go down inthecellar, Fedya, she told him qui-
etly when they were alone. Hide. Its hot now andIll
provide you with everything. Thats how youll live.
AndIll tell people you left. Butyou never know what
might happen. They could pick upyour trailthink how
many fools throats youve cut. Climb into thecellar.
Fyodor didnt object, andhis bulky figure hid below.
34
V
The cellar Fyodor climbed down to was wild and im-

probably deep. He could walk around standing atfull
height. It was divided into two halves that corre-
sponded to the division of the house. Through three
small windows inthebrick wall, narrow distorted day-
light poured into this half-darkness as if into a live,
dusty monster made upofbroken objects.
Klava fixed Fyodor upinacorner, onanold iron
bedstead, covering it with asoft, puffy mattress, which
she kissed. Forsome reason, she adapted ashiny new
chamber pot for his foodprobably because of its
sturdiness.
Fyodor slept andate through several days. Then he
began peering into thedarkness.
One time he had adream that was more real than
life. He dreamed of the street where he drank beer
at the stand, near his sisters house,. At home, they
werent staggering around anymore. They were stand-
ing tall andeven, andseemingly nothing could budge
them. He was drinking beer at the standand really
drinking, really, mug after mug, buthe could see that
this was someone else, not him, someone big, bigger
than thehouses, drinking beer.
35
Fyodor woke up. He didnt like dreams. Thegloom

in the cellar stirred. Sitting on the bed, he peered
atthelight outlines andsuddenly decided that reason
was inthefar corner. He moved his lips alittle andthen
sat beside that spot, asifriveted toit.
One time, Fyodor saw aninfinite stirring offlies,
which alarmed him. Soon, thestirring offlies shifted
to one side, toward a window. The light pierced
this oscillation in one place. Of course, there were
no flies.
Fyodor felt alittle better inthecellar than uptop.
There was no undue fuss, andhe could plunge wholly
into his indeterminate meditation. It was very bad that
he couldnt give aname towhat he saw asamystery.
Klava alone looked inonhim.
He treated her asanodd necessity, anecessity that
bypassed his consciousness.
He liked to slap her on the ass; Klava grinned
atthespiderweb.
Soon, though, Fyodor started missing people, miss-
ing human puzzles. In other words, he didnt have
anyone tokill. (Klava didnt count. He didnt even con-
sider her aperson.)
Atthat point he decided tomentally replace people
with isolated wooden beams, odd two-legged stools,
and broken branches. Picking up an ax, he suddenly
emerged from his coziness andhacked atfigures with
afrenzied effort oftheimagination.
He told Klava he needed todo it forareminder.
36
THE SUBLIMES
Meanwhile, Fyodor gorged himself, andinthedark-

nessafter long months of indifferencehe often got
anerection, butdidnt notice atwhat point he started
connecting this with death.
Atfirst he simply sought pleasure androamed all
over thecellar with anerect penis, rummaging through
objects, moving around with arms raised, as ifforan
embrace. He may have been searching for something
sexual inthewall.
But death and everything that went along with
it continued to reign in his soul. Or rather, death
was his soul.
Suddenly Fyodor had anidea. When he thought about
it, his hard, stony face became mobile, mobile from sur-
prise, asifit were sculpted from clay. Apparently, his
face had turned around andlooked up, attheceiling.
37
VI
Meanwhile, events uptop had been set inmotion. He

got theimpression that this time Lidochka didnt want
her blessed babe murdered. It may have just been
foolish obstinacy inher talking. She may also have had
apremonition that this babe would be her own future
bridegroom orsimply her lover.
One way oranother, she looked atPasha asasmall beast
andconveyed this totheother members ofthefamily
except Petenka, of course. Old man Kolya climbed into
theattic andtried talking toPasha from there.
Mila picked flowers forthebabe.
Klava gave this commotion a cursory look.
The whole situation made Pasha seriously anxious.
Absurdly, in the hallway, in front of everyone, he
rushed at Lidochka, pressing up against her in order
torape her andpierce thechild.
But Lidochka wouldnt yield. Often you could see
her galloping away from him over thehuge, scattered
garbage heaps. (Pasha had hurt his leg and couldnt
chase her down.) Old man Kolya gave serious thought
to the police, but Lidochka locked herself away from
Pasha inher room. Meanwhile, below, under thefloor,
Fyodor began digging apassage totheFomichevs half.
One evening, Pasha suddenly flew into such arage
that he was able tobreak into Lidochkas room. He ran
38
THE SUBLIMES
inwith anaked, erect penis, which he had scalded with

boiling waterforgreater fury. Thesight ofhis scalded
penis, which actually looked like it was steaming, sud-
denly amused and tempted Lidochka; thunderstruck,
she surrendered toPasha.
Pasha, who was beside himself, managed to burst
theamniotic sac holding theinfant instantly.
When the child started to emerge, Pasha fled, and
Lidochka suffered alone, although old man Kolya came
inlater. He was theone tocatch his dead grandson. Mean-
while, Pasha was playing tag with himself inthe yard.
Weak though she was, this time Lidochka was enraged.
Im sick ofhim, theparasite, she said. Andhis
penis is all weird now.
And Im tired of christening dead grandsons,
old man Kolya suddenly shouted andwaved awet rag
atthelamp.
Lidochka laid the child out in a box, which she
kissed andheld toher breast.
He has all the luck, the brute; they keep coming
outdead, she added. They could come outalive, even
if they were premature. Im going to tell the bastard
it was born alive, for spite. And that we took him
tothehospital. Papa, you back me up. Maybe then hell
run away totheforest.
Old man Kolya wiggled his ears. Fyodors intent,
heavy gaze followed them from below, from his cellar
corner. (Fyodor had already dug through totheother
half, totheFomichevs.)
39
Pasha didnt come home until evening, seriously

inebriated.
Was thedoctor here? Did you write it up? Bury
it? he barked atLidochka.
They were alone intheroom.
Gladness, Pasha. God protected him from your
penis, Lida replied lucidly, inwardly mocking him
alittle. He was born alive.
What are you talking about? Cant be. Wheres
thebaby? Pavel dropped toachair.
They already took him tothehospital; hes weak,
premature.
Youre offyour head. What?
Ask theold man.
Pavel disappeared. He returned unstrung, his face
wild andred.
Give me thechild! Ill rape him! Iwill! he yelled.
Why did you have one live, bitch? What did Iscald
my penis for?
Lidochka stuck outher tongue atPasha.
This undid Pavel completely; inaflash, like abird
ofprey, he rushed tobeat Lidochka. After thefirst blow,
Lidochka gave a terrible scream and even Klava ran
over totheFomichevs side. Only Petenka, asalways,
kept scraping himself inthecorner.
When old man Kolya, Klava, andMilochka ran into
theroom, Lidochka was already nearly unconscious.
Only a heartrending screamFiend, youll kill
her!frightened Pavel, andhe seemed tocome tohis
40
THE SUBLIMES
senses. Even the old neighbor lady Mavka came run-

ning. Pavel, plastered from vodka, swayed and left
thehouse.
Lidochka was inavery bad way. She barely revived
andthey wanted tocall anambulance, butLida desper-
ately shook her head.
Thered be a scandal. This way itll die down,
she whispered, fixing her turbid andsewery eyes, now
suddenly wide open, onaspot inthecorner. Inever
imagined hed go crazy like that right away. They ap-
plied home remedies andLidochka seemed tofeel better.
Meanwhile, night approached without Pavels return
home. Exhausted anddazed, they all scattered totheir
own niches. Now revived, Lidochka wanted to be left
alone to sleep peacefully. All the doors were bolted
firmly shut andthewindows had iron barsacommon
sight around there.
41
VII
Inthemiddle ofthenight, Lidochka started feeling bad,

butshe couldnt tell whether she was dying ordream-
ing that she was.
A wormy, hole-eaten space surrounded her on all
sides. Inside, it felt asifdevils were rising uptoher
throat. Oddly, it never occurred her to get up or call
for help. For a minute, the thought flashed that,
onthecontrary, she was getting better.
Intheroom it was first light. Suddenly, inthehalf-
dark, through thepain andreality, she saw afloorboard
in the corner slowly lift and someones bulky, black,
bent figure climb outfrom under thefloor.
Although her heart started pounding, she didnt cry
out, asifthis person were merely acontinuation ofher
boundless, dying state of mind. At the same instant,
the wormy, holey space crumpled before Lidochkas
eyes and was invaded with lightning speed by that
figure, which now stood alone intheroom andbecame
thefocal point ofLidochkas agony.
Asifhiding from himself, Fyodor walked uptothe
bed andsat down onachair.
Ihave toget it exactly right, he thought. Tocap-
ture her soul. To engulf it. Only when death comes
death is the main thing. Troubled, devastated, he
glanced atLidochka.
42
THE SUBLIMES
She was looking at him with stupefaction and

amazement.
Dont be a baby, Lidochka, Sonnov said quietly,
touching her coverlet. God forbid Islit your throat. Im
strange. We have totalk.
The devils, the devils inside her kept rising
toLidochkas throat. She barely knew where she was.
For some reason, she thought Fyodor had a dark
crown onhis head.
Whats there totalk about, Fedya? she whispered.
Her face was ablaze; her features had petrified, like
right before death, buther eyes streamed anunprece-
dented andsewery light, asifher whole life, all her
screams andvigils, were pouring outthrough her gaze.
Looks tome like shes already dying, Fyodor rejoiced
privately insurprise. That makes everything simpler.
Fyodor, Fyodor, Lidochka babbled, and suddenly
she stroked his knee, maybe so Sonnovs look wouldnt
frighten her.
Ive come for a visit, Fyodor replied, looking
atthewall. Avisit.
Avisit Then take away this fever This fever
and she thrashed around. Fyodor abruptly pulled
the blanket off her, leaned over, and suddenly, bring-
ing his face close toher burning little face, ransacked
her with his eyes.
What do you want, Fedya? She looked at his
mouth. Meanwhile, outofthedepths, something nudged
her awareness.
43
The scamp. Shes going to die, to die, Fyodor

thought, and he feverishly fumbled over the pillow
andthrough Lidochkas hair. Here it comes Here it
comes Its mostly inher eyes
Suddenly he stepped back and rested his
famous, bulky, anesthetizing, incomprehensible gaze
onLidochka.
She froze. For a second the nudging of her con-
sciousness stopped. I wont give in, I wont! she
squealed atthedevils inside her andagain fell still, in-
fected bySonnovs gaze.
Iwant tosleep with you, Lida, Fyodor said loudly.
Lidochkas half-dead little face suddenly turned co-
quettishly onthepillow.
Not taking his wild, staring eyes off her, Fyodor
started cautiously, almost stiffly, taking offhis pants.
When he lay down, his eyes lost Lidochka
for a second, then he came closer to her face again
and saw there, on her blazing, half-alive little face,
anexpression ofconvulsive, sniggering bliss; her face
wrinkled upinaviperous lassitude andhid onFyodors
chest, asifshy ofGod knows what.
Fyodor was thinking of just one thing: death.
Theidea that had suddenly gripped him inthecellar
was to have a woman at the moment of her death.
It seemed to him in that moment the cleansed soul
would be bared andhe would couple not with thehalf-
corpse but with the emerging, throbbing soul itself
and, inaway, grab onto theominous specter that had
44
THE SUBLIMES
constantly eluded himthespecter that always slipped

away andhid ontheother side oflife before, when hed
simply killed his victims.
Meanwhile, Lidochka started laughing; her face
swelled upfrom theunnatural laughter that was muf-
fled Fyodors huge, pillow-like body.
She was laughing because something had shifted
in her mind and pleasure appeared amid death
andthedevils wails.
Meanwhile, Fyodor was groping forLidochkas death;
inside, he felt it coming; he gasped inafurious shivering,
groping forit like amole; he looked into Lidochkas decay-
ing face andheld back, so that he could come attheexact
moment she died, onthebrink between death andlife.
Lidochka understood nothing; she was shaken
bytheleaping absurdity.
Its hot, Fedya, so hot Lets fly, lets you andme
fly. Upthechimney, she squealed.
Suddenly something collapsed in her chest
andinaflash he realized she was dying. She was dying
and her eyes froze in an unspoken question before
theemptiness.
Now only the faint shadow of sexual filthiness
flickered inthem.
Fyodor realized the end was near; leaning his
head back just a little, steadily gazing into her eyes,
he started crushing her body todeath, pressing onher
hearttohasten thedesired moment. Ihave tohelp
her, help her, he mumbled tohimself.
45
He caressed me into eternity, flashed weakly

atthebottom ofLidochkas mind.
Suddenly everything disappeared except for one
last awful question in her eyes: Whats happening
tome? Whats going to? Fyodor made one last effort,
as if trying to squeeze out that question, that last
shred ofanidea.
He saw her eyes roll back. Lidochka twitched
and emitted a stinking wheeze that reached her
tender lips, which looked asiftheyd been scattered
with invisible flowers.
Atthat moment, Fyodor came.
Woozy, asifhed shed aburden, he sat onthebed
next to Lidochkas corpse and fumbled around him-
self. He compared his relief with Lidochkas departed
soul. He felt that he had come into contact with
something invisible made solid. Thehouse was quiet
as before. Even the mice were rustling very, very
quietly.
Not having fully revealed himself inhimself, Fyodor
got upandcautiously butmechanically tidied thebed.
Then he hid below, inthecellar.
Exactly thirty minutes later, the floorboards
opened in the hallway in Klavas half of the house.
Fyodor made his way from shed toshed tohis sisters
door andknocked.
Sleepy, her face spotty from dreams, Klava opened up.
Acorpse, Lidochkas acorpse now, Fyodor mum-
bled, looking Klava over vaguely.
46
THE SUBLIMES
He was still entirely in the grip of the pleasure

hed experienced, which had woven inside him with
thestiffened pillar ofdeath.
Klava squealed quietly.
Im leaving, little sister, Fyodor continued, touch-
ing her, asifinadream. Im going tostay intheforest
acouple ofdays. Inthat place You know Lidochka
almost died byherself There arent any marks onher
throat Ijust pressed onher heart alittle. Ithought
Id make it heavier and heavier But she must have
died herself, from Pavel. Butmaybe not. Who knows?
Fyodor turned his bullish head toward thewindow.
While he was saying this, gloomily, in snatches,
Klava, without saying aword, collected what he needed.
I tidied everything up in the cellar, Klava, all
thepassages, Fyodor confirmed precisely.
Suddenly he sat down on the bench and started
singing atthetop ofhis lungs something idiotic, idi-
otic butterrifying. Klava gave him ashove, butlovingly.
Youll wake thewhole house! Some singer!
Atlast, Fyodor got upandleft.
In the morning, when Klava had made her own
twisted sense ofeverything that had happened andgot
up, theFomichevs was crawling with police, doctors,
andneighbors.
Old man Kolya was weeping on the ground; Mila
ended upintheattic; Petenka was nowhere tobe found.
Everything happened outofinertia, andKlava had
no cause totremble; it turned outLidochka had picked
47
upsome kind ofinfection during her terrible labor, plus

thebeating had torn something andthewitnesses were
right there: the proximate cause of deathher heart
couldnt withstand it, and so on. It never occurred
toanyone todo anadditional examination. Byevening
theyd already caught Pavel andtaken him tocourt; it
seemed undeniable and, anyway, even he was sure hed
led Lidochka toher death.
They buried Lidochka two days later, inthemorn-
ing, on a sunny day; the coffin was adorned with
flowers, asifthey were seeing Lidochka offonatrip.
Spray her with cologne, perfume! the neighbor
lady Mavria exclaimed.
Butno one paid any attention toher cry. When they
lowered thecoffin into thegrave, far past thetrees, un-
noticed, thefigure ofFyodor flashed by.
It was asifhed come forarendezvous with that
invisible something Lidochka shouldve left behind,
something with which he, Fyodor, had attempted toes-
tablish afrenzied, fateful connection.
48
VIII
It was light and deserted in the Fomichev-Sonnov

house. Pavel was in prison, Lidochka in her grave.
Everything seemed tobe asbefore, butthere was still
something missing.
Little Mila often visited her sister ather grave and,
forsome reason, she fell inlove with some blind, new-
born kittens, asifthey brought her news from thenext
world. She played soldier with them.
Old man Kolya hung Lidochkas portrait inacorner.
Well done, old man, Klava sobbed. Lidochka
should hang inasmart place atleast once.
Well, theyre in their graves, old man Kolya re-
sponded. Thegirls dead, andyoure all thinking about
her mind. Go away.
Thesun baked mercilessly forafew days, plunging
all theyards andstructures into adistinct, figmentary
life. Even Klavas kitty Tangle rolled around inthegrass,
doing battle with its own hallucinations. Fyodor arrived
amonth later, thinner, tired, still mumbling.
All quiet, Klava? he asked.
All long forgotten, Fedya, Klava gave him
a smack. Old man Kolya wanted to hang himself,
buttherope broke.
Well, well, Fyodor replied, andhe went totheout-
house. He set upbase inone ofKlavas four rooms. He
49
almost never came out. He just sat dully on the bed

andmumbled his awful songs totheguitar.
Mines gotten merry, Klava grinned lewdly toher-
self. All he asks oflife is tobe left tohis queer doings.
Sometimes she would cautiously crack thedoor open
and, whispering delightedly, observe Fyodor intently.
She liked the way hed roam around the room,
from chair to chair, or drop to all fours and crawl
under thebed.
Meanwhile, Sonnov was searching foraway out. Not
knowing thecorrelation between himself andtheworld,
he was nevertheless already sniffing outwhere his next
victimorpeace, asFyodor sometimes put itmight
be inthis foggy world.
One day he took a very long nap, exhausted
byasenseless andlong dream about awooden beam.
Klava woke him up.
I brought you some nice milk, Fedya, she said.
Andtheres news. Ihave alodger intheupstairs room.
From Moscow. Temporarily, for the summer. From
Semyon Kuzmich, you know. Its not good torefuse him.
Fyodor stared ather nonplussed.
Only, Fedya, Klava added, sitting beside her
brother, just barely refraining from putting her arms
around him, as far as your game goesstrangling
orknifingthats ano-no. That case would get solved
right away. Its ano-no. Iknow you listen tome, other-
wise Iwouldnt have taken her.
But, but, Fyodor grumbled.
50
THE SUBLIMES
Klava wagged her little face andleft.

Intheafternoon, there was no one left inthehouse.
Theyd all gone about their business, and Petenka
didnt count.
Klavas lady lodgera slender, elegant woman
of about twenty-fiveroamed around the yard alone,
belonging toherself andnobody else.
Fyodor would stand athis window, behind thecur-
tain, and stare at her, his jaw clenched. His pants
dropped alittle andhe held them upathis ass with
one hand. Thewomanshe was wearing asimple shirt
and trousers like a little boymade many elegant
movements and suddenly she was holding a jump
rope; she started jumping quickly around the lonely
yard, surrounded bythehigh fence andjunk, sweetly
lifting her feet.
This utterly astonished Fyodor.
After the woman stopped jumping, she lay down
on the bench. She was so intoxicated by the sunor,
more likely, by bathing in the sunthat she quietly
lifted the edge of her shirt and started stroking her
bare belly.
Fyodor went looking forhis binoculars; finally he
found his old opera glasses and, mumbling absurdly,
started examining thewomans face.
This, too, bewildered him. Meanwhile, thewoman
stood up, thought for a moment, and then wandered
over thegrass. Outwardly, her face resembled achina
teacup, it was so white and fragile. Her forehead was
51
pampered and intelligent; her mouth sensual but not

provocatively open, rather held sternly in check;
and her eyes were special: deep blue and slightly
rounded, but deep and languishing, with a fathom-
less ligature of deep blue shadows at the bottom. Her
eyebrows were delicate and painfully sensitive, like
the wings of a spiritual bird; her general features
were gentle and intelligent, inspired and narcissistic,
butstamped byworry ofsome kind andbyaconvul-
sive intellectual unease. Fluttering, her languorous
hands were constantly stroking her throat, especially
asshe swallowed involuntarily.
Such was theappearance ofAnna Barskaya.
Fyodor stood bythewindow foracouple ofhours.
Then Klava came. Fyodor heard Anna talking up-
stairs. Her voicequaking, permeated with musicagain
riveted Fyodors attention. Late that evening, Sonnov,
athis wits end, knocked andentered Annas room.
How are you doing, miss? He coughed bulkily.
Youre Klavdia Ivanovnas brother? Why are you
here? was thereply.
Fyodor sat down atthetable anddully surveyed
Anna.
Like from the next world, he decided for some
reason and fixed his cold, piercing, almost paralyzed
gaze onher pretty, white, gentle neck.
So, like it? she asked suddenly, noticing his glance.
Fyodor wiggled his fat fingers putridly. Andgrinned.
Thats not theword, he said.
52
THE SUBLIMES
What is, then? She looked him over with vague

curiosity.
Skeleton, Fyodor replied, staring at the table.
Anna laughed ringingly andher sweet throat vibrated
intime toher laughter.
Thats what Ithink, andIm not abig one forjokes,
Fyodor spoke ominously. How can Icheck, eh?
What are you abig one for? Anna asked.
Fyodor stood upand, casting infrequent, dull glances
atAnna, asifshe were anempty butstrange dimension,
he started slowly walking around thechair where she sat,
like aparalyzed ghost walking around apiece ofmeat.
Anna was getting alittle worried.
Damn it, youre a curious person, she said, re-
garding Fyodor closely. I wasnt expecting this. You
mean youre interested incorpses?
Fyodor suddenly stopped and froze; he turned his
bullish head directly toward thewoman andsaid loudly,
Yes, Iam!
Interested how? Barskaya exclaimed.
Im interested in the life of the corpse, not
thecorpse. Thats how, Fyodor replied and, sitting op-
posite Anna, he gave her aslap onthethigh.
With his other hand he covertly felt his knifeabig
one, thekind used toslaughter hogs.
Oho! Anna exclaimed. What Fyodor said andhis
gesture aroused her. She jumped up. And did you
know, she interrupted him, that acorpse is thefeces
ofthenext world? What are you, asewer hog?
53
What? What do you mean feces ofthenext world?

Its very simple. We, or rather that which is
eternal in you, depart for the next world, but your
corpse stays here, like waste. Death is theact ofsep-
arating out the feces, and our body becomes feces.
You know.
Who knows what Iknow, Fyodor answered calmly.
Anyway, corpse is agood word. You can take it dif-
ferent ways, he added.
You like dead symbols and words? Barskaya
retorted.
Fyodor shuddered and thought, You mean you
know them? (Ive never talked like this before with
anyone.)
Anna lit a cigarette and resumed the conver-
sation. A few things Sonnov said made her pupils
dilate just a little. Suddenly Fyodor felt like getting
upandslitting her throat then andthereatone go,
andproducing themaximum blood. Well just see how
talkative you are then, with your smart words, he
thought. Take that, smartass. You can be fancy-smart
inapool ofblood.
Butsomething stopped him, andnot just theun-
favorable circumstances andKlavas warning. Lately
Fyodor had been inahaze andeven forgot thechar-
acteristics of reality, as if it were a dream. No!
Something inAnna herself stopped him. Never before
had he met anyone who, ashe could dimly see, had
entre into that spherethe sphere of deaththat
54
THE SUBLIMES
alone interested Fyodor and in which Anna herself

evidently felt like afish inwater.
Forasecond, Fyodor even imagined she knew so
much that, in comparison, his experience was like
a puddle compared to a lake, so cleverly and confi-
dently did Anna speak. Atthesame time, there were
subconscious currents running from Anna tohis now
heavy soul. Out of interest in how this conversation
would end andwhat Anna might say ingeneral about
death in the future, Fyodor neither got up nor slit
her throat, but remained seated, focusing his heavy,
fixed gaze on Barskayas small shoe bobbing in time
totheconversation.
They spoke inthis vein foranother hour orso.
Are you really that interested inlife inthenext
world? Anna asked.
Perhaps forthefirst time inhis existence, Fyodor
smiled.
His face dissolved inacontent, viscerally amicable,
inits own way happy, butstony smile. All ofasudden,
he nodded like akid.
We intellectuals rattle on, Anna resumed, star-
ing atFyodor. Butdont think thebest ofus cant feel
everything keenly, too, just like you primitives. Ifyou
like, Fyodor, Ill introduce you topeople who know this
business inside out. They know that life.
Sonnov was tormented by the somber blueness
ofAnnas eyes. Butthis offer wrapped around him. He
felt avague attraction tothese people.
55
He got upandstarted pacing around theroom.

You mean, youre offering friendship? All right,
then, lets be friends, he said gloomily. But hows
about Isleep with you? he tossed outsuddenly.
Forget it. Dont try anything with me. Onanism
would be better, Anna flared updrily.
Its hard without a corpse, Fyodor rumbled
sleepily. Oh well, all right. Im not very lively. Who
cares.
Fedinka, FedyushKlavas worried but treacly
voice was suddenly atthedoor.
The door opened slightly and she walked in.
Somewhat perplexed, Klava was suddenly touched.
Look, Annushkas alive! What joy! she rumbled
softly toherself, throwing upher hands.
Fedusha, go, go toyour room. Before you know it
youll be marrying Annenka. Hee hee. Anddont you be
bothering her. Naughty boy, she shouted atFyodor, her
puffy body shuddering.
Fyodor went out.
Anna, dont pay him any mind. Klava was moved
again, wrapping her shawl around herself. Hes got
agood heart, buthes foolish. Andsometimes he looks
like abeast, outofsheer foolishness.
ButAnna had forgotten all about Fyodor. Evidently
she had something more important onher mind.
The next morning, when her eyes came across
Fyodor dozing gloomily on the bench in the yard, he
intrigued her all over again.
56
THE SUBLIMES
You know, Fyodor Ivanovich, she said, gazing

with delighted surprise into his awful, petrified eyes,
Im going tokeep my word. Im going tointroduce you
tosome truly great people. Butnot right away. First
youll just see one of them, but the meeting will be
with hishow can Iput it servants orrather, his
jesters. Theyre entertaining. Youll have agood time.
To us theyre jesters; to others, divinities. I have
to go now, to a little place not far from Moscow,
though. Will you come?
Fyodor mumbled inreply.
Half an hour later they were at the gate. Klavas
puffy white, translucent face flashed from thebushes.
Fyodorits ano-no! she quickly whispered toher
brother. Sonnov nodded inagreement.
57
IX
They had to take the suburban train. Two pain-

fully dissimilar figures approached the station: one
was Fyodor, huge, hunched, and tawdrily detached,
like a surreal thief; the other was Anna, elegant,
small, white, and sensuously aroused by something
mysterious.
Thesolitary drunk invalids sitting ontheground
followed them with their dull gaze. Even in the jam-
packed train they attracted attention.
Papas taking his little girl tochurch. Toget mar-
ried, an imbecilic but observant little girl whod sat
down onthefloor ofthecar said, giggling.
Fyodor looked out the window, his face addled,
disgruntled, as if the little houses, factories, ponds,
andchurches flashing bymight interest him.
Anna smiled ever so slightly ather own thoughts.
They got offabout twenty minutes later. Theforest
began immediatelyor rather, the park, deserted
butnot somber, whimsical andcheery, sunny.
Anna led Fyodor down apath andsoon they found
themselves near aglade, inthemiddle ofwhich were
several people ofthemale gender.
Sit down, Fyodor Ivanovich, here on the stump,
andwatch. Anna smiled athim. You have aperfor-
mance instore foryou.
58
THE SUBLIMES
Leaving him there, she headed toward those men.

There were just four, andAnna started talking toone
of theman asthenic, average-sized, slightly effemi-
nate young man ofabout twenty-eight, wearing awhite
shirt. Obviously she was telling him something about
Sonnov andhe laughed without even looking inthedi-
rection ofFyodor, who was not far away.
The man in the white shirt sat down abruptly
on a stump and leaned over to unwrap a bundle
ofcold snacks andabottle ofdry wine. Anna stretched
out alongside him. The young man tied a napkin
around his neck andpoured glasses ofwine. Suddenly
he clapped and the other threeone squat but large,
with abulls neck andamysteriously degenerate face;
thesecond tall anddelicate, sinuous; andthethird el-
egant and blond, like a little Mozartlet up a howl
andrushed toatree where satchels andstring bags lay.
They pounced onthestring bags andstarted pull-
ing things out. To Fyodors considerable surprise,
they produced two puppies, kittens, birds in cages,
and various other living creatures. The one with
themysteriously degenerate face grabbed apup andbit
its throat. Thedelicate one sat down, made some awk-
ward, ritualistic movements, pulled out a needle,
and started jabbing the kittens eyes. The blond,
hiding his face against his gentle chest and turning
red from theeffort, dismembered achick with pincers.
Theyoung man in the white shirt sat on the stump
andwept ashe sipped thedry wine.
59
Thescreeching ofanimals andgrunting ofpeople

ran all through theglade.
Thedelicate one was moving his ass asifhe were
masturbating.
The squat one, having ripped the head off one
puppy, went after another, chiseling through its skull
with ashoemakers tool.
Preoccupied, theblond was destroying birds so zeal-
ously that feathers flew around incircles, onthewind.
Evidently all this activity brought them tremendous
pleasure. Afew minutes later, all thebags were empty.
Anna applauded.
Two oftheyoung men stepped away, leaving behind
apool ofblood anddismembered limbs. Thethirdblond
and mysterious, like Mozartraced around the glade
with ajoyous screech, lifting his arms skyward.
Fyodor got a better look at the squat one when
he came closer. He really was ferocious: alow-slung,
sturdy being, about twenty-five years old with abroad
chest andlong, hairy arms. What was astonishing, be-
sides his distinctive, mysteriously degenerate face, was
his pendulous ass.
The delicate onealthough the same agehad
a very delicate constitution and was timid and shy,
aswell; he kept blushing andturning his eyes inward,
hiding them, asifthey were anunearthly color.
When Annas friend stopped weeping, he switched
abruptly to dissipatedly hysterical laughter and struck
thesquat one with astick, making him cringe like adog.
60
THE SUBLIMES
Anna chattered ongaily about something with her

friend; Fyodor walked up.
Andhere is our colleague, from thevery depths
of the people. Hes interested in this, Anna intro-
duced Fyodor. Annas friend burst out laughing
and slapped Sonnov on the belly. And Im Anatoly
Padov, he introduced himself. No one had ever ad-
dressed Fyodor like this, buthe was drawn tothese
people and kept quiet, casting a turbid gaze over
thenow quiet lawn.
Anna presented thejesters, too.
Pyr, she called thesquat one.
Iogann was thedelicate ones name.
At that moment, the elegant one came running
up. Through his pale, handsome face, asecond little
face could be seen, aface eaten away bygray death;
it quivered with pleasure.
Andthis is our littlest, Igoryok. Hes only twen-
ty-one, Anna said affectionately, and she ruffled
thelittlests hair.
Her friend, Anatoly Padovwhose movements were
quick and whose merriment was complete, but ner-
vously hystericalcalled her aside. Then, with awave
ofthehand, he headed into theforest.
Anna walked over toFyodor.
Tolya has rested andwants tobe alone, she said
affectionately. So, Fyodor Ivanovich, while I get you
acquainted with theback rows, so tospeak You, too,
must need some entertainment. Thats just what theyre
61
good for. Simple boys. Bytheway, couldnt we move this

toyour house? Foraday ortwo?
Bring them all Klavusha will allow it, Fyodor
snarled.
So thecompany headed forthestation.
Up ahead walked Sonnov and Anna. The sadists
trotted alittle behind.
Some dinner would be nice, Pyr rumbled
unhurriedly.
You know, thats true, Anna rejoiced. Gentleman,
not far from here Ithink theres adive ofarestaurant.
(Fyodor liked thefact that she called them all gen-
tlemen. Evidently this was their custom.)
Thedive resembled acafeteria forfly-breeding.
Thats all right, themore themerrier. Under Gods
little wing. Just so, Anna cooed.
Everyone took a seat at the sticky, lifeless table.
Barskaya was inagood mood, andshe chattered end-
lessly. That girl. Shes gabby, but shes got a mind,
Fyodor thought, recalling a few of Annas statements
ashe took amouthful ofsoup.
You know, Fyodor, Anna chattered, sipping some
wine, Im a woman, after all, which means Im not
always thinking about death. Right now, for instance,
I want to be a child. Just a child. A naughty child
ontheedge ofavolcano. Now Im going toexplain toyou
about Pyr.andshe pointed tothesquat one. Hes his
own man. Pay no attention to his ferocious facial fea-
tures. Thats from thinking. Pyr, show him thenoose.
62
THE SUBLIMES
Opening his torn jacket hem alittle, Pyr shyly dis-

played amighty noose.
See how timid he is, Anna continued. Pyr only
uses that noose against people. He hates them with
afierce hatred. Once inMoscow he went toamovie mat-
inee with that noose. There was almost no one there,
andhe sat behind afat housewife who was stuffing her
face, thekind who snatches time between lines instores
tosee apicture. When thelight went outandtheshow
started, Pyr threw thenoose over her fat neck andpulled.
Ha ha. The animal wheezed and started stamping her
feet. Forsome reason, Pyr gave upandleft thetheater
unnoticed, andtheanimal, though she didnt crap out,
completely lost her mind outofhorror andincomprehen-
sion, andbythetime Pyr got tothestreet, theambulance
had already pulled up.
And so dinner passed in light and cheerful
conversation.
Asthey were walking tothestation down thebroad,
dusty road lined with low-slung little houses that shaped
their sweaty world, Anna said, pointing to the deli-
cate one, Ioganns our violinist. Alover ofRomantic
music. Thedelicate one was embarrassed.
Then theres Igoryok, she added, displaying some af-
fection fortheyoungest. Hes inacategory all his own.
Fyodor turned his bulky head first toone andthen
theother.
At the approach to Klavas house, Anna smiled.
That was apretty good time today, she thought.
63
X
Attheend oftheday, after athorough break, every-

one spilled outinto theyard. Old man Kolya andlittle
Mila, who was weighed down byLidochkas nonexis-
tence, emerged from their half. Her face expressing
nothing, Mila sat down in the grass by the fence
andstarted murmuring. Thebirdies chirped around
her. Surrounded by a high fence and the house,
theyard was its own desolate, degenerately cozy lit-
tle world.
All around grew half-living, blatantly stunted
grass; thethree jagged little trees looked like angel hal-
lucinations; benchesclumsy beams with snagsjutted
upinthecorners. Inthemiddle was anenamel table
crippled byhuman contact, again with benches.
An outsider might have expected mutual inter-
action to endure. At the restaurant, theyd been
together, after all.
Suddenly, though, everyones actions became ab-
sently disjointed. True, all the living creatures that
came to hand were instantly destroyed. Iogann slit
the throats of two old, semi-feral cats and Pyr tore
the head off an ugly, scrawny hen. Only Igoryok,
forwhom theyd left nothing, raced around inshorts
andundershirt, chasing after abutterfly that turned
upoutofnowhere.
64
THE SUBLIMES
Klava dozed atthetable; she saw towers with naked

backsides on spires; Fyodor sat facing her, orphaned
from himself, taking small sips ofvodka.
Old man Kolya, whod found ahaven onawooden
beam, was busy sewing, for some reason; little Mila
fell asleep right where she was, in the corner where
shed been murmuring. As always, Petenka was no-
where tobe seen.
Anna viewed this scene from the window of her
room andlaughed inwardly. Finally, she couldnt help
herself and, gripped byasudden andamorphous fear,
threw herself onthebed andfell asleep.
Meanwhile, intheyard, thedisintegration thick-
ened. Blond Igoryok, having failed to catch the
butterfly, retreated into himself and, sitting by the
fence, started pinching his own handsome, gentle feet
outofinertia. When he roused from dozing andsaw
he was pinching himself, quiet, stinking tears flowed
from his light eyes.
Pyr was practicing, hurling a large ax at a tree.
Iogann, huddled over, removed a box of beetles from
his pocket andstarted dissecting them with aneedle.
Golden handsthats what they said about him. He
might as well have been dissecting poems written
inanancient language.
Everything had congealed inthis savagery.
Acouple ofhours passed. Suddenly thesilence was
broken byold man Kolya, screeching hysterically from
anook behind theshed.
65
Everyone shuddered in unison, but they didnt

regain their senses immediately. Only when thescreech
turned into a howl did everyone slowly, reluctantly
start getting upfrom where they wereeveryone except
Klava, Pyr, and old man Kolya, whod gone missing.
Even Anna woke upandwent outtotheyard.
First to go over to the nook behind the shed
was Fyodor, and this is what he saw: Klavushka,
spread-eagle, jerking on the ground from either fear
or bewilderment, her neck in a noose held firmly
by Pyr. Caught her, caught her, he kept repeat-
ing in a metallic voice. Old man Kolya, so befuddled
hed leapt onto the fence, screeched in his clumsy,
half-womanish, half-wolfish voice.
Though he didnt understand what was going on,
Fyodor frightened offPyr, who let go thenoose. Klava
was alive andnot even very suffocated, butit was all
so unimaginable that she stayed ontheground andlet
her fat thighs flop around.
When everyone came running, Anna slapped Pyr
intheface.
I didnt mean to, I didnt, he mumbled like
afrightened bull. She just turned up. Her necks so
fat andwhite. My thoughts threw thenoose around
it themselves.
Klava sat upandthen ran atPyr.
You were playing? Playing? she asked.
She was so terrified at the thought that Pyr
mightve actually strangled her that she drove
66
THE SUBLIMES
outthevery thought, imagining that Pyr had really

just wanted toplay with her, like achild. It cant be,
that something would bring me death, was thescreech
somewhere inher belly.
Yes, Iwas playing, Pyr echoed dully. Fyodor took
alook athim.
Its all right, Klav. Hell cool off, Fyodor said, put-
ting his heavy hand onPyrs head.
Klavushka was so insistent that it had all just
been play, and her throat closed up so tightly from
terror attheopposite thought, that everyone managed
toagree andleave it atthat.
By way of rapprochement, Klava even gave Pyr
an obscene slap on his pendulous ass. (As if some-
one you have sexual feelings for couldnt kill you.)
Tosmooth over this flap, they decided tohave adrink.
They sat down at the small table in the shed,
totheside ofthehouse, forgreater coziness. Right next
tothem sprawled aferal cat Iogann had dissected.
Why do you kill them? What are you looking for?
Fyodor asked with agrunt.
Were not looking foranything.
What do you mean youre not looking foranything?
We get satisfaction. Thats all. Pleasure Pleasure,
all three sadists wailed, altogether. Pyr, Iogann,
andIgoryok. They sat side byside, inorder ofheight,
andtheir eyes gleamed inthegathering dark. Igoryok
actually blushed like agirl.
Wheres thepleasure?
67
Theres lotsandthenuances toit First, theres

hatred forhappiness, butthats different, Igoryok sud-
denly rushed tosay, after downing ashot ofvodka. His
face became even more beautiful andhis hands shook
inanticipation. Then, theyre alive, butwe put them
todeath, just like that. Theyre gone. That means were
kind oflike gods.
The faces of all three came to life and invisi-
ble crowns did seem to appear. Iogann rose abruptly
andwent forhis violin. It was lying around insome
shed there; no one knew whose. Soon after, touching,
sentimental sounds were heard. Iogann was huddled
over, playing ontheback steps.
It was time todo thenight thing, inanew form
ofisolation.
Well find a place for everyone, Klava cooed,
pleased with her belly.
Pyr, Ithink you should go home, Anna said.
Why? Klava intervened plumply, butPyr headed
obediently forthedoor.
Id sleep in a bed with him. He shouldnt have
tried tohang me, Klava squeaked and, hopping up, she
patted Pyr onboth his meaty cheeks.
Butthenext day, thesituation changed drastically.
A rumor reached Klava that the local authorities had
afew minor difficulties instore forFyodor. Therumor was
vague andindeterminate, butfairly alarming. This time
Fyodor decided toleave. Taking alittle money, he gave
Klavusha agoodbye smack ontheass anddisappeared.
68
THE SUBLIMES
Let him wanderthrough Russia, Klava thought.

Byevening, ofthewhole noisy company, only Anna
Barskaya remained.
So far, Fyodor hadnt laid eyes on Annas real
people.
69
XI
Thedays passed desolately inKlavas house. Klavusha

would sprinkle alittle water onherself andstick alive,
sometimes stolen gosling upinside her one more time.
You cant go without pleasure Youll get old, she
thought briefly asshe relaxed onher feather bed, look-
ing attheceiling.
After work, old man Kolya staggered around catch-
ing flies. Mila gathered pretty flowers from thegarbage
heaps. Anna alone was nowhere to be seen. One day,
though, Barskaya went into Klavas room to see her
landlady.
Klavdia Ivanovna, something bad has happened
to one of my old friends, Khristoforov. His father is
practically on his deathbed. She told the story of how
the Khristoforovsfather and sonhad fallen on hard
times. Theold man was clean, butsick with some internal
disease, andhe needed fresh air andachange ofsetting.
Couldnt Ibring him here forawhiletotheother
downstairs roomwith his son to look after him?
Anna said, andsuddenly added, Dont think hes my
lover. Its just avery old friendship with his family.
ToAnnas surprise, Klavusha agreed.
Bring them, Anna, bring them, Klava said. Im
acompassionate woman. Ieven have pity forthat goose
over there.
70
THE SUBLIMES
She nodded at the fat, maddened gosling with

thebeak lightly bound so it couldnt nip too much.
Thenext day, Anna brought toKlavas avery pale,
gray-haired old man andhis twenty-seven-year- old son.
Theold man was so mellow that everything around
him simply dissolved inlove; his gray hair circled his
head like ahalo ofhumility andquiet; his small, deeply
hidden eyes shone with such touching emotion, it was
asifhe were being resurrected, not dying.
Incertain circles, theold manAndrei Nikitich
was considered ateacher oflife.
He walked with one hand resting onhis sonAlexei
Khristoforovandtheother onastick that looked like
an old-fashioned cane, which he occasionally tapped
ontheground asgently asifit were his mother.
Stopping atthefront steps, theold man wept qui-
etly. Quick as a chick, Klavusha caught him under
thearms andactually carried him into his room, where
shed made upabed forhim.
Later, after theold man had been put tobed, they
wanted tofeed him, butAndrei Nikitich objected.
After all, there are many other unfortunate
andhungry people inthis world besides me, he said.
Inthelittle shed, atthetable where thesadists had
recently had their drinking bash, Klava got totalking
with Alexei andAnna.
Dont worry, Klavdia Ivanovna, Alyosha said,
agitatedly. Ill be looking after him, andAnna has al-
ready reached anagreement with anurse.
71
Our nurse is okay, Klava said, only for some

reason she likes sleeping intheburdock.
Youre exaggerating, Klavdia Ivanovna, Anna
broke in, glancing uneasily atAlyosha.
He let Klavas expression pass and beamed all
over with benevolence, because theyd found his
father aplace inthefresh air. His asthenic figure ex-
pressed such satisfaction, it was asifhed been raised
uptoabetter place.
Intheevening, everyone gathered intheold mans
room. Oftheneighbors, old man Kolya found his way
there, butforsome reason he got flustered andtried
tohide under thetable.
Andrei Nikitich was already feeling much better,
and once hed adjusted to the soft, cozy bed, he sud-
denly started toinstruct.
Life is very simple andGod is very simple, too,
he blurted out. Look atthose peopleAndrei Nikitich
gestured out the window with his elegant and very
white handthey arent thinking about death, be-
cause they see it every day when they mow their hay
or slaughter their animals. They know that death is
just asmuch alaw ofGod andlife asconsuming food,
so they arent surprised, as we are, when they start
dying. It is them we must learn from!
Andrei Nikitich cast a rather triumphant glance
at those around him. True, the kindness remained,
but a passionate, egotistical desire to live was sud-
denly revealed at the bottom of his eyes; there was
72
THE SUBLIMES
the sense that the old man wanted to simplify death

tothemaximum inhis own eyes inorder tomake it
more acceptable andless frightening.
Love is theonly law oflife, he began again. Love
your neighbors andyou will have nothing tofear.
Klava didnt even know what he was talking about;
she was alittle sad, thinking ofFyodor. Hes snuffing
someone now, the darling. Such a child, she sighed
toherself.
Anna left soon after.
Iknow, Christian teaching comes hard forpeople,
theold man rattled on, paying no attention toanyone.
Thetruth isnt aglass ofsweet water
The next morningAlyosha had only just woken
upAndrei Nikitich was already sitting onhis bed.
Whats thematter, papa? Alexei asked.
Im going away, my son, theold man answered.
There is no love in this house. Im going to see
thegray-haired old men inthemonasteryattheedge
oftheworld. There is no love here.
What do you mean, father? Alyosha said
andjumped right up. How is there no love here? What
about Anna? How much good has she done forus? You
know my feelings about her. Andshe said that Klavdia
Ivanovna is acharming, refined person. Anna was just
very sorry her brother Fyodor had left.
Andrei Nikitich didnt answer and total silence
ensued, during which he fell still onthebed, huddled.
Finally, theold man broke thesilence.
73
I wont go, only because there cannot be wholly

bad people intheworld. He smiled. Each person has
amite ofgood, which can be awakened.
Theold man plunged into his own contemplation
of God. When he thought about God, his thoughts
became so mellow andtouching that thewhole world,
all that existed, took on a sweet, smoothing, be-
nevolent guise. God took on the same guise inside
him. Given aGod such asthat, one could die peace-
fully. The old man felt better. His emotion spread
to the very depths of his soul, making it as soft
ascotton wool.
Intheevening, Andrei Nikitich took another turn
fortheworse.
Alexei andAnna were byhis side. Klavusha kept
coming inandgoing out.
Andrei Nikitichs face seemed to be dissolving
in complaint; he was gasping for air. A big, black fly
settled onhis nose. Alyosha was about tochase it away,
buttheold man objected, whining, Thou shalt not kill,
Alyosha. It wants tolive, too. Dont touch it. He con-
tinued to lie like that forawhile with adeath rattle
andwith thefly onhis nose.
You should put atowel over his eyes, Klava said
into Annas ear. Atowel.
Meanwhile, the doctor arrived, gave a whistle,
and was gone; but nothing in the old mans condi-
tion changed; even he believed he was close todying.
His main concern was a well-done death, with good
74
THE SUBLIMES
thoughts, with tender emotion in his soul, and God

forbid he should offend anyone.
Ididnt push you, did I? he yelped and, almost
weeping, suddenly addressed old man Kolya, whod just
walked in. Instantly, Kolya hid behind thedoor.
Suddenly, the old man felt a sharp sting in his
heart, asifit were about toburst. He looked atKlava
infright and, inthedead silence, murmured, Do you
love me? Oh, how I need people to love me! He elic-
ited astream ofhidden malice inAnna. Shed thought,
atthemoment ofdeath, his face would become wholly
good andequable. Hes like achild whos afraid oflife
and the dark, she said to herself irritably, and who
thinks that if hes good and obedient then trouble
will bypass him andeveryone will pat his little head,
and then the whole world will be nice and tame. All
thedogs will stop barking because Vova is such agood
little boy. Death itself will shed afew tears. She was
pained fortheworld, that dark, cruel, andmysterious
world she knew andloved.
Meanwhile, theold man really did want toplacate
death; he really did think that if he was very good
and philanthropic, then death would appear to him
in the form of a kind, simple, and lucid fellow. And,
therefore, he wouldnt find it so terrifying. From time
to time, he even played it up a little, sulking that
deathso simple and lucidstill hadnt come calling.
He strove touse his love forGod andlife towash away
andcushion his latent fear ofdeath andthenext world.
75
Subconsciously, he wanted touse this love totransform

his picture of the world and make it less terrifying.
Atacertain point, he stopped rejoicing when he sud-
denly felt better again; onthecontrary, he wanted this
emotion tocontinue, anemotion that made him feel so
soft andsaintly andthat tamed his impending death.
Actually, when he felt completely better, he revived
for a moment, without lifting his head off the pillow,
surveyed everyone with his pointed, piercing gaze,
andsaid, Love forafly is superior tolove fortheLord.
Everyones mouth opened insurprise, butAndrei
Nikitich suddenly asked Alexei to write down his
thoughts, butthat never did happen because theold
man took another turn fortheworse. Andrei Nikitich
didnt know whether these transitions meant he
would die orrecover.
Yet again, he peered atthose around him. Klavas
face luxuriated in its puffiness. The lucid eyes of old
man Kolya, whod just returned, looked at him from
aslightly opened cupboard.
Suddenly, Andrei Nikitich bolted from his bed
tothenearest window.
Where are thepeople? Thepeople? he shouted.
Do you love people? Klava walked over to him
and, before theold mans eyes, her numbingly sensual
face suddenly froze.
76
XII
Thenext morning, Andrei Nikitich was sitting onhis

bed asifnothing had happened, lecturing Alexei.
Bymidday he was again so weak that he was tearing
up. He started reminiscing, regretting each andevery
unfortunate person who came to mind. You have
to love people, love people, he repeated. By treating
others with love, he forgot about himself and seemed
tolift theburden ofexistence andthefathomlessness
of his love for himself; after all, it would be awful
to tremble for yourself all the timeone way or an-
other, you were doomedandhis love forpeople lulled
him, distracted him, and plunged his consciousness
into asweet fog; inaddition, it was almost safeafter
all, it was easy tobear thedeaths ofthepeople he loved
inside himself, unlike theapproach ofhis own end.
Later, after thedoctors visit, Andrei Nikitichs spir-
its recovered completely; he got upanddecided totake
a walk around; meanwhile, the house was deserted.
Everyone had gone about his own business; only Klava
andPetenka (who, inorder toscrape himself atwill,
had climbed atree) remained.
Tapping his cane, the old man wandered around
the yard, deep in his thoughts of love, as if deep
intheclouds. He sat down onabench.
Suddenly, Klava was standing before him.
77
Are you bored, Andrei Nikitich? she asked.

No, Im thinking about theLord, theold man cor-
rected her, although good-naturedly.
Suddenly, Klava patted him on the neck and sat
down beside him. Smiling broadly, she turned her
face, round asthemoon, toward theold man, gazing
into his small, good eyes.
Is there something you want to say, Klavdia
Ivanovna? theold man asked uneasily.
Still gazing athim, Klava didnt answer, butsud-
denly started singing something shed made up, wild
andabsurd.
After a pause, Andrei Nikitich said that God
andlove were one andthesame.
Still singing, Klava suddenly began slapping
theold mans ass with her puffy little palm.
Andrei Nikitich froze tothebench.
Its not so terrible if you die, Andrei Nikitich,
Klava said, leaning her breasts toward his old mouth
andbreathing inhis face. Come see me after death!
Right tomy bed! All bony! Andshe gave him alittle
pinch intheside. Tell theLord hello forme. Ilove
him. Andshe gave theold mans ear alick with her
soft tongue.
Andrei Nikitich was struck dumb; meanwhile,
Klava was breathing deeply.
Youre crazy! That was the first thing the old
man said, orrather squawked, when he came tohis
senses alittle.
78
THE SUBLIMES
Why is that, dearie? Klava rumbled, obscenely

feeling up Andrei Nikitich below the waist. Im not
crazy. Im luscious. Come offit!
Leave me alone! Leave me alone! the old man
shouted, now all red. He slipped outofKlavas clutches
andjumped upfrom thebench. Leave me alone. Ijust
want tolivetolive. Idont want todie.
Butits after death that theres real life, Klava
said with conviction, letting her whole body sink
inonitself.
She was about tosay something more, buttheold man
suddenly broke away and ran at a trot, tap-tapping his
little feet, tothefront stepsanddarted into his room,
where he locked himself in with a key and caught his
breath. Klava, meanwhile, oblivious tohis disappearance,
crawled out to the middle of the yard and, baring her
piggy flesh, sprawled outonthegrass androlled around,
offering uptothelast rays ofthesun her world-encom-
passing belly. Nearby lay Petenka, who, after scratching
himself, got so distracted hed fallen from his branch.
Once he rested upinhis room, Andrei Nikitich found
he needed toleave again right away, butthen he started
feeling so bad that he got scared of going anywhere
anddecided tobide his time, thinking only about how
toavert anattack. He got stuck onthesame thought:
After all, I was perfectly fine just now, and I recov-
ered miraculously.
Alexei arrived andtheold man, worried only about
his health, seemed toforget theincident with Klava,
79
merely ordering Alexei to request that his landlady

not disturb him. Atthebottom ofhis soul, he was ac-
tually flattered that Klava had pawed athim andcome
onto him like she would amanwhich is how he as-
sessed Klavas actions. (That means Im still alive,
he thought.)
Klava stopped bytosee him that evening andacted
asifnothing had happened, though he was alone. She
sat onachair andlooked silently outthewindow, spit-
ting sunflower seeds andswinging her legs.
That night, when everyone was asleep, the old
man, whose soul had departed fortheunknown dark-
ness, truly felt bad, especially mentally. Fright actually
made him sit upinbed. It wasnt that he was dying,
butall ofasudden he was gripped bythehorror that
he was going todie soon anyway andthere was no get-
ting away from that. He also felt there was some kind
ofmonster growing inside him, sweeping away all his
reasons former conclusions about death andstripping
him naked before his very eyes. Horrified, he actually
started squealing in the darkness, the way a were-
wolf pig probably grunts when faced with aknife. This
monster was his second inner being, which had been
glimpsed inhim before, inthedepths ofhis affection-
ate, Christian eyesa being that stubbornly wanted
to go on living, no matter what, and that now awak-
ened inhim with aviolent fury.
It demanded asimple answer tothequestion: What
was going tohappen tohim after death?
80
THE SUBLIMES
Theold man suddenly realized he wasnt atall in-

terested inwhether there was aGod orlove ornot, that
thislike all other stratagems oftheheart andreason
had nothing whatsoever todo with him, andtheonly
thing that worried and truly interested him was his
own fate. He needed toknow what was going tohappen
tohim afterward. Inirritation, he even banged his fist
onthenightstand, asiftheanswer tothis awful ques-
tion depended onit. Inthis terrible loneliness, facing
death and himself, all his ideas about God and love
collapsed like a house of cards. His second being
howled viciously and insistently, seeking an answer
tothequestion ofwhat was going tobe. What?
Then, bathed insweat, clutching his head with one
hand, theold man summoned all theforces ofhis con-
sciousness andbegan calculating, practically counting
onhis fingers.
He started analyzing all the conceivable options
that might happen toaperson after death.
One, he thought, bending down his thumb
and shying away from his own thoughts, as from
theplague, Iwill turn into nothing foreternity. Two,
Ill end up in the world beyond the grave. But this
brings up the question of whether that world is eter-
nal or just a postponement of inevitable death. What
happens inlife beyond thegrave? ButIshouldnt peek
further, theold man squealed. Ijust want tounder-
stand whats going tohappen immediately after death.
Then well see. He stopped for a minute, transfixed
81
byhis own thoughts, his gaze stuck onthedark clothes

rack with theempty dresses. Butadifferent life, he
continued thinking feverishly, could have its own oc-
casions. Life there will be a continuation of my life
here, in another form. Thats great, he squealed vis-
cerally. Iwill be transformed into abeing that doesnt
know about my former life andhas no connection toit,
butabeing still relatively decent, conceivable, andeven
insome way resembling me. Hee hee hee.
Three, Ill be transformed into something un-
imaginable and incomprehensible to my mind right
nowinto asquiggle. Ho ho ho!
The old man got stuck again. These thoughts,
accompanied bythepictures racing through his imagi-
nation, first scared him andthen, onthecontrary, set
him against going onwith life; he was bathed insweat
one minute andhiccupping thenext.
Then his thoughts began functioning again
atanunusual speed. Finally, another option, he re-
sumed thinking, transformation, transmigration
ofsouls; immediately after death orinthelife beyond
the grave, Ill find myself back in this world. Well
assume this world, not others; thats easier to imag-
ine. Here there can be sub-options. No. 1. Ill remain
inthesame place, myself, asinavicious circle. 2. Ill
be born again in another body as a worthy person,
thecontinuer ofmy current affairs; that would be very
good, logical, and desirable. In the darkness, the old
man quietly stroked his own thigh. 3. Ill become
82
THE SUBLIMES
aperson who is not thecontinuer ofmy current being,

butis still worthy ofmeorIll be transformed into
a nonentity, a halfwitthe old man gasped in fear
ormaybe ananimalaturkeyapetal.
The old man froze; his soul sank at the yawn-
ing abyss.
Then he stirred and stiffened again and looked
outthewindow; abig yellow moon hung over theearth
inthenights emptiness.
Something unusual andswift had happened tohis
soul; all the old years-long kindness and goodness
had slipped from his face, which became insanely pa-
thetic, aloof, apprehensively lost, and, at moments,
even vicious.
For some reason, of all the options for life after
death, thefoulest ones crept into his mind.
So fear-crazed was he that suddenly he pulled his
checkers out from under his pillow and started play-
ing himself onthenightstand, groaning andhacking.
Butvarious specters kept trying tooverpower him; he
thought someone was emerging from the corner, tall
and big, and pointing at him menacingly; crazed, he
flung his head onthepillow, peering with fixed, wide-
open eyes into theadvancing darkness.
Inthemorning, after hed slept, something quite
extreme andwild happened; hopping offthebed injust
his underwear, Andrei Nikitich announced that hed
died and turned into a chicken. With a playfulness
unusual for his illness, he scampered into the yard,
83
flapping his arms and crying out in anguish, Im

achicken, achickencluck cluck cluckIm achicken,
achicken!
Atfirst, no one took all this seriously, although many
did stop intheir tracks. Thedoctor, whod come bynow,
felt theold mans pulse andlistened tohis body andsaid
the danger had passed, the crisis was over, Andrei
Nikitich would start toget better, andhethedoctor
was quite amazed. Theold man was stubbornly silent.
Butatbreakfast intheyard, everyone was aston-
ished. Andrei Nikitich hopped offhis chair and, flapping
his arms like wings, with cries ofcluck cluck cluck,
he rushed tothegrain that afew chickens were peck-
ing. Startling the chickens, he got down on all fours
and started sort of pecking the grain. Alexei ran up.
The old man looked up and Alyosha gasped, because
this wasnt Andrei Nikitich anymore.
There wasnt so much asatrace ofhis former kind-
ness orother Christian attributes; looking atAlyosha
was anew andcompletely different being; theold mans
face had sharpened andtaken onadead, waxy tinge;
andhis little eyes gazed viciously andmistrustfully.
There was thesense that, inwardly, Andrei Nikitich
ached tohop sideways onall fours, theway achicken
would hop inhis situation, andhe was prevented from
doing so only byhis lack ofexperience.
Whats thematter with you, Father? Alexei mut-
tered and, grabbing him by the arm just as he was
sinking down, led him tothedinner table.
84
THE SUBLIMES
It was odd that theold man said nothing human

atall, other than his recent words about being achicken.
Thetime oftransformations is nigh. Anna malev-
olently uttered someones dying words.
That afternoon, the old man completely en-
tranced everyone with his behavior; old man Kolya
left for the bathhouse; Klava was just about to take
abroom toAndrei Nikitich, so well had theold man
convinced her that he was a chicken, and Milas
wide-open eyes watched him from theattic. Actually,
thegirl thought awheel was racing around theyard,
not Andrei Nikitich.
Alyosha alone attempted toengage his father incon-
versation. He caught the old man when hed jumped
from thefence andsat onastump.
Reason philosophically, Papa, Alexei admonished
him, after sitting onthegrass. You tell everyone youre
achicken, which means youre aware; youre thinking;
consequently you are a thinking being and no kind
ofchicken. Chickens dont reason.
ButAndrei Nikitich stared athim with frighten-
ing mistrust, almost like ananimal. Instead ofraising
logical objections, he jumped at his son with cries
of Cluck! Cluck! Cluck!and tried to peck Alyosha
with his nose.
Klava separated thescuffling men. Andrei Nikitich
didnt seem torecognize his own son.
Onthesecond day ofthis absurd behavior, Alexei
lost it.
85
What am I supposed to do with him now? he

asked Klava, dazed.
You dont think hes faking? interjected old man
Kolya, whod been eavesdropping, and he cautiously
wiggled his big ears.
Maybe call apsychiatrist? Anna said after abrief
pause.
Nonsense, Klava tossed out. Well lock him
intheshed foraday, so he doesnt jump onthefences
andhurt himself. Maybe hell cool off.
She went into thehouse after giving ahandy post
ahug. Andrei Nikitich found himself intheshed.
86
XIII
That evening, Alexei, practically intears, went tosee

Anna inher room.
In Annas milieu, life and metaphysics meant
thesame thing; living meant steeping visible life with
ones otherworldliness; therefore, love here frequently
melded with recognition oftheinner world, which was
not asimple bonus tolove, atacit agreement.
Alyosha didnt belong wholly tothat milieu; he was
both drawn to it and scared of it; but he had been
inloveforalong time andunrequitedlywith Anna,
in part because she was so enigmatic and belonged
tothat dark, irrational milieu.
Today, inaddition, he wanted toprove toAnna,
who represented all those strange people whod taken
on too much, that a firm belief in God was still
mans sole fortress amid all this metaphysical chaos,
this shower ofdeaths, absurd machines, andscrew-
loose brains.
He was also doing this toreinforce his own faith
and elevate himself in Annas eyes. Ultimately, he
valued recognition over love. Recognition ofhis worth.
Wound upashe was byhis fathers idiotic trans-
formation into achicken, ontop ofeverything else, he
started straight from God, andthenecessityandeven
logicofbelieving inHim.
87
Stroking her bared leg, Anna responded abruptly

and even spitefully this time. Her nostrils flared
slightly andher eyes glittered from asense ofher own
being andoppositionopposition tothese ideas.
She talked about why she didnt like theusual re-
ligious systems, which were played out and placed
alimit onmetaphysical freedom, even though thespirit
had long since broken free into anew andinscrutable
sphere; themore ancient esotericism was more attrac-
tive now, since it offered greater scope forinvestigations
andmetaphysical journeys; there needed tobe another
way ofpenetrating totheotherworldly.
Ultimately, theusual religions are too one-sided,
Anna exploded, and right now metaphysics needs
aradical revolution, uptoandincluding thedestruc-
tion of the old concepts and the appearance of new
onesperhaps even more absurdbut nonetheless
symbolizing our spirits condition; and it is this
metaphysics itself, religion itselfthat must make this
revolutionbecause all theother, previous revolutions
were beside thepoint, since they replaced metaphys-
ical values with concepts from incomparably lower
spheres, rendering thereplacements absurd andlead-
ing only tonegative consequences Andso we need
agenuinely religious cataclysm, she flared upagain.
Theworld is expanding and, with it, our metaphysi-
cal presentiment; modern religions can only constrict
our notion oftheworld, forthey are merely thedis-
torted shadows ofonce great religions.
88
THE SUBLIMES
Alexei was utterly crushed and distraught.

Intellectually, he was most stunned bywhat shed said
about thelimit ofmetaphysical freedom; andemotion-
ally, by her comment that those strong of spirit, so
tospeak, were setting outonanunknown, frightening,
andotherworldly journey.
Still, he objected. So youre saying that this is
a distorted path, a profanation, that the keys to true
Christianity have been lostalmost. Even the mean-
ings ofwords now are not thesame asthey were then.
Butwhat ifthekeys were found? Ifonly among afew.
That would be another matter, ofcourse, Anna re-
plied quite calmly. Intuitively, though, Ican tell that
this isnt forme. Idont know about theothers. Though,
why not? Maybe. Astothefeweverything is mon-
strous andconfused, tothepoint ofimprobability.
Milas expressionless face, with its wide-open
eyes, appeared inawindow. What was she looking at?
Alyosha sat in the corner by the stove; Anna paced
around the room, slightly agitated; the wind howled;
andKlava sang her absurd songs inthenext room.
Youve sided entirely with Padov and his friend
Remin. Andthat nightmare Izvitsky, Alexei muttered.
Anna let that pass. Lighting up, she silently looked
outthewindow, where Milas absent face had already
disappeared.
Well, all rightAlyosha again summoned his cour-
ageso what ifagreat deal is closed tousandpeople
get told only asmall part ofeverything, ofthehighest,
89
andeven then its poorly understood. ButGod, what do

you do with God? Im not talking now about theGod
ofspecific religions, butabout theGod we cant know?
God! Anna said. What can I possibly tell you
about God?
No, answer me, why youyou specificallyapart
from this, andnot ingeneral! Alexei shouted.
God is something else, ofcourse, Anna, suddenly
deeply calm, began, as if she were talking to herself.
Kicking offher shoes, she curled uponthesofa. They
could hear old man Kolya outside, shouting intermit-
tently butpiercingly attheshed where Andrei Nikitich
had been cackling forover anhour.
In general, Anna went on, if we forget certain
former attributes of God, especially mercy, kindness,
andthelike, andintheir place put others, awful ones
taken from our present-day life, that is, from Gods
real actions, then we might come upwith aGodwho
it would be interesting to meet somehow in the next
world. Maybe something grandiose and outrageous,
acompletely different God who, ifour former truth-seek-
ers had dreamed, then only intheir nightmares.
The Devil, not God. Thats the substitution you
want, Alexei forced outofhimself.
We dont want it; we see it, Anna replied. God,
butdifferent. Inaccessible inadifferent way now. Whose
purposes are totally concealed from humanity, not con-
nected tomorality.
Sheer Satanism, Alyosha said with disgust.
90
THE SUBLIMES
Ultimately its better to have a transition from

theidea ofGod tosomething further. Better tohave ab-
solute transcendence, Anna added. Oreven more
You dont mean Glubev andtheabsolute raving he
calls thenew religion? With his religion ofI?
Idont know. Idont know. Were still searching.
Atleast Glubev has his ravings, Alyosha screeched.
You have nothing butdespair!
Anna actually burst outlaughing.
And what do you modern believers have?
she replied. Petty, dimwitted metaphysical com-
fort, a parody of the golden dream, a laboratory
forthecreation ofagood spiritual mood, immortality
for nonentities. You have to understand, Alyosha,
she checked herself, not wishing tooffend him. We
need theright tosearch. Even ifthesearch is pre-
ceded byagreat fall.
Thegreat fall you, Padov, Remin, andIzvitsky are
in, naturally, Alyosha broke in.
Why do you keep reducing this to individu-
als? Anna said. Were talking about ideas. Even
if were not participants in this great fall, though
Im sure we Let others, it doesnt matter. Butafter
the great disaster, a new faith will ascend. Maybe
even Glubevs. (Alyosha laughed maliciously.) Maybe
someone elses. Idont know.
This is all theworst kind offall, theworst, Alexei
muttered fervently. Butanswer me, finally, answer me:
What specifically so alienates you from God?
91
IfGod is something outside my I, then Iwould

answer you: My bottomless love formyself. Not only
that, I dont like it when people try to put a white
muzzle onthat power you call God, asyou do, Anna
replied wearily, and she moved to a chair. Then,
I love this mysterious, black world where weve
been abandoned, she said, as if thinking aloud,
andthevery concept ofGod is agiven that impedes
the radical search, a search alienated from every-
thing human, a search in the transcendental. Not
only that, Ifeel theworld asagame ofmonstrous, in-
dividual, otherworldly forces. God is something very
modest compared tomy perception oftheworld. We
need a super-mystery, freedom, raving evenmeta-
physical raving.
Youre all clinging so tightly to the immortality
ofthesoul, Alyosha interrupted. You tremble foryour
own I. Butyou dont need God anymore. Oryou trans-
form Him, asPadov does, into aninaccessible monster
just tofrighten each other.
At that moment, the door flung open and into
the room flew Andrei Nikitich, whod broken
outoftheshed.
Cluck cluck cluck! Cluck cluck cluck cluck! he
screamed, hopping onto thetable andstamping his foot.
Meanwhile, outside thedoor, thedark figure ofold
man Kolya appeared, holding ahuge knife. He mightve
already taken Andrei Nikitich forachicken.
Papa! How can you? Alexei shouted.
92
THE SUBLIMES
But Andrei Nikitich clucked and jumped out the

window.
Andso their weighty religious conversation wound
down inamost unexpected andtimely fashion.
True, Alyosha was beside himself and, not noticing
Kolyas knife, dashed outside.
Therest oftheevening passed inall kinds oftrouble.
They collected Andrei Nikitich, though he was un-
bearably silent, andmade him drink abromide.
Alyosha was supposed to take the late train
to Moscow on urgent business for a few days. Klava
and Anna agreed to look after the old man during
that time.
93
XIV
Aman oftwenty-eight orso, young andintelligent-look-

ing, but with a frantic face that rushed headlong
away from itself, ran through the small, beleaguered
streetssome deserted, some notof Lebedinoye.
Theinhabitants watched him with identical dull gazes.
Every once in a while, hed take a hop and yell
wildly, raising his arms skyward.
In the sky he saw a huge, black spot, which he
thought equal to what was inscrutable in his soul.
Thats why theyoung man howled so.
Down the twisting lanes, over scattered garbage
heaps, he came closer andcloser totheSonnovs house,
quickly checking street names ashe went.
Inhis pocket was aletter from Anna:
Tolya come here, come visit me. The old-time
Russian, slumberingly folk obscurantism I discovered
here is mingling with our intellectual mysticism
This is going to be the great synthesis that weve
been awaiting forso long Come here, tothedarkness,
away from thebrazen smoke ofvisibility.
Theyoung man was, ofcourse, thefamous Anatoly
Padov. He had anarrow face with asullen, enflamed
gaze; the weight of nightmares completely suppressed
94
THE SUBLIMES
all of his other expressions; you could see he had

asmall bald spot; people said that Padov was balding
outofterror atlife beyond thegrave.
Meanwhile, the spot in the sky pursued him; he
couldnt take his eyes off it, so strangely did he link
his inner life with that spot, which, he felt, was thede-
tached inscrutability ofhis soul.
Padov stopped and sat down. And suddenly he
burst outlaughinghysterically, asifcontent with his
terror andeven admiring it.
What had thrown him offso?
Ordinarily he lived by a self-destruction mixed
not infrequently with an insane terror at life beyond
thegrave andthenext world, aterror that forced him
to advance delirious hypothesesone more delirious
than thenextabout posthumous existence. Sometimes
it seemed he was saved from his real fear of death
ortheunknown bythefact that he was even more in-
flamed by a fear of himself that was itself inflamed
to gigantic proportions, heated up by his delirium
andclearly prepared toburn upinthis delirium.
Tosay nothing ofthefact that he regarded all reli-
gious andphilosophical ideas andsystems, even those
seemingly closest tohim, with avisceral negativity.
Everything that was not-I evoked inhim alatent,
ardent revulsion; his troubled, warped mind shied
away from even theworlds dearest tohim, finding even
inthem something ofthenot-I. Butinsofar asthese
worlds andideas did, insome way, enter into his I, his
95
madness was frequently self-destructive; he was capable

ofregarding even his own, pure I with unease, asifit
had acatch orwas asubstitute. One could imagine his
attitude toward theworld, when he treated even his one
andonly, beloved I with hysterical negativism.
Such was Anatoly Padov.
Apart from all this, he was sometimes overwhelmed
byasmall, very specific nightmare inwhich avile imp
crawled outofthegeneral wall ofdevils. So it was now.
True, he had long been pursued by the idea of things
inthemselves orthat aspect oftheworld inherently inac-
cessible tocognition; inhis soul, even asachild, when he
heard about this forthefirst time, something shuddered
and cracked. The metaphysical took possession of his
imagination andwas always ominous anddirectno less
direct than a disease or a nuclear explosionby force
ofits effect. Fornow, though, thepoint was that theouter
world specifically was merely aphenomenon, asemblance
that perhaps concealed something absolute andinscruta-
ble andwas still endurable, although Padov had dreamed
more than once oftheshadow ofthis absolute andin-
scrutable. Once, though, as he went deeper into this
element, he stumbled across an idea that amazed him,
one hed somehow missed beforethe point being that
our I, which we love so, might also be just aphenom-
enon, a semblance hiding the absolute and inscrutable,
thething initself. TheI might merely be theoutward
manifestation ofthis thing initself, orrather, just ahuff
andnothing more, asSobakevich put it.
96
THE SUBLIMES
Thats where it all started!

As someone ardently in love with his own I,
he couldnt bear this kind of humiliation. Although
in the end this theory was merely a hypothesis not
subject tocriticism, he wound himself uptothepoint
of hysterics, gradually forcing this idea on him-
self and developing it until it was transformed into
animage, amonster.
A few days before his arrival in Lebedinoye, he
wandered totheedge ofMoscow, toafilthy, angular
beer stand.
Thefact that everything is illusory, thats fine,
he thought, convulsively sipping his beer andgazing
malevolently atthewaitresses fat asses andthesun
peeping through the window. But the idea that
I, myself, am an illusionthats too much. I dont
want it, Idont! What does it mean ifIstroke myself
and this doesnt correspond to a profound truth?
Orthat my I conceals aninscrutable being that is
somehow directing me?
Padov walked uptothecounter andasked for abeer.
Assoon asthebeer poured down his throat, he thought
this wasnt him atall, butthat inscrutable being, invis-
ible andeven sedately present behind his back, drinking
thebeer through him, andhe was nothing butamario-
nette, even inthis vulgar, everyday situation.
This one thought alone made him jump upandvomit
onthecounter. Thefat, fly-crazed waitress indifferently
cleaned uptheabsurd vomit.
97
Tolya got some tea and sat by the window, not

far from an invalid wrapped in an incredibly large
quilted jacket.
This combination oftheeveryday andthemetaphys-
ical actually made him laugh, buthis ideas continued
toweigh. Lets think. He grinned into thedarkness.
It would be more correct to consider my I to be
merely the outward manifestation of this inscrutable
x orthething initself. This implies that my I is ba-
sically not my I, because my I comprises my outer
surface, so tospeak, which is unknown tome. Oranil-
lusion So my I is not my I. Tolya actually slapped
his palm onthetable andlaughed lightly. Butwho am
I? Thats just the point, that I cant know who I am
because the powers of my I dont let me penetrate
this inscrutable thing that is my I in and of itself,
in truth. That means Im more alienated from myself
than from the sky. That inscrutable something may
even be theenemy ofmy I. Imay be my own enemy.
Beyond this, Padov could no longer think. He was
drunk on emotions. A wild, spontaneous merriment
fell over him. He sensed his I not asanindependent
principle, but as a kind of ball bouncing on a board
and speeding under its own steam through an un-
known space toanother, even more unknown world. He
felt pathological laughter coming on.
He walked over totheinvalid, who lay onthefloor
wrapped inajacket, andpoured his tea onhim. Thein-
valid pulled out his wrinkled, rag-framed face. Then
98
THE SUBLIMES
Padov patted him onthekisser, got down onall fours,

andtook ahalf-liter ofvodka from his pocket. He ended
up lying beside the invalid under the table, wrapped
uplike acaterpillar. Themain thing is running wild,
Padov said into theinvalids caked-over ear. Themans
black, caved-inmouth smiled joyfully. Padov poured half
thebottle ofvodka into it anddrank therest himself.
Bloated by the vodka, the invalid crept back into his
jacket andPadov sprinkled him with crumbs.
Everyone atthebeer stand was busy with his own
affairs: One was drinking, his nose buried inthevodka;
one was asleep; one was just standing inthecorner. No one
paid any attention toPadov. Woozy from himself, he took
thelate trolleybus home tohis lonely cell, where apor-
trait ofDostoevsky hung inthecorner bythewindow.
The evening light filled his narrow room as if it
were a resurrected coffin. Inside, under his blanket,
Padov suddenly turned cold, like a corpse, and gave
himself acrystalline, besotted look inthehuge mirror
looming over theroom. He mumbled tranquilly, Well,
my I isnt all that much an illusion. So there! He
wagged a finger at his reflection. Still, itd be awful
ifmy I were ever tolose its value.
He fell asleep, drifting offinto oblivion. That night
passed calmly. The next night, on the other hand,
was nightmarish. Theinscrutable appeared toPadov
again. Theinscrutable, orbetter put, theinscrutables
messenger usually arrived in various guises, but this
time there was simply apowerful knock atthedoor.
99
Who is it? Padov screamed inhis sleep.

Inresponse, asifwithout warning, he heard aloud
voice.
Youre not atall what you think you are.
Im amanorrather, aspirit, Padov thought.
Butbut, thevoice answered.
Im anindividual, Padov thought again.
Afool, thevoice replied.
Atthat, it was over.
After these abrupt, awkwardly intrusive visita-
tions, Padov awoke from his subconscious in a cold
sweat. The specter of being incomprehensible and de-
valued tormented him. That night, it took him along
time to fall asleep. Early in the morning, the post-
man knocked atthedoor, bringing that famous letter
from Anna, summoning Padov into thedarkness, into
the folk obscurantism. Good professors son that he
was, Padov didnt have much faith inthecommon peo-
ples powers, buthe had nothing against seeing Anna.
Shes dear to me, he knew. Thats why Padov found
himself in Lebedinoye. He ran through town like
ametaphysical wild boar andfinally sat down, haggard,
onthebench bythewrecked beer stand. Theblack spot
hed seen inthesky suddenly disappeared, asifhiding
away inhis soul. Padov stood upandsoon after found
himself in front of the Sonnovs house. Up above,
inatree, he heard asloppy whistle: Petenka.
100
XV
Anna greeted Padov with open arms. Buthe ran away

from her, like a child, all over the room, laughing
the whole time. From below, they heard Klavas bes-
tially mysterious laugh, asifinresponse. Darkness had
already fallen, adarkness that mingled with this house.
Anna lit a candle, illuminating the upper corner
of the roomand there was Dostoevsky again. She
set thetable: abottle ofvodka, aslice ofblack bread,
andsalt. They didnt have tostart from thebeginning;
their conversation had broken off and turned inward
ataspecific point, amonth ago.
Padov, his pale face sniggering, began telling her
about his present condition, all the while pointing
behind his back.
Fyodors somewhere now. Anna sighed forsome
reason.
She wore akerchief, peasant-style, andthis lent
her refined face a certain depraved and hysteri-
cal look, as moans seeped through the floor from
downstairs.
But as Padov told his stories, transforming his
world into merriment, Anna got more andmore caught
up by his images. Before too long, she was looking
at Padov as if he were a joke concealing the thing
in itself. She expressed her idea and Padov squealed
101
inecstasy. Iwant toregard myself asajoke, too, he

howled, pouring vodka into his glass.
Astheconversation deepened, however, Anna saw,
inthedark space ofcorners that seemed tobe closing
in, flashes oftheinscrutable, more andmore. Atfirst
it was merely emitted by Padov, and he gradually
became like ablack saint, inthehalo oftheunknown.
Passion was already overpowering Anna.
She walked over to Padov and stroked his knees.
A saint, Tolenkas becomea saint, she murmured
with aninvisibly bloody foam ather lips.
Padov shuddered in oblivion. His thoughts,
as if losing their value, slipped off him, like snow
offawizard.
Andbehind his thoughts it remained: theinscrutable.
Finally, leaning against the wall, Anna had
a vision of Padov becoming very small, the inscru-
table that emanated from him in the form of a halo
growing into an enormous black wall where a small
worm-man-spirit squirmed.
Her heart shuddered andshe had anurge tojoin
this black spot, this thing initself.
She rushed toward him.
Although the inscrutable appeared visually
as a black wall in which Padov was immured, spiri-
tually it appeared as the limit of human capabilities,
asthat which extinguishes thoughts thecloser they get
toit, losing power inflight. Andit was there, behind
them, behind those thoughts, that her blood rushed.
102
THE SUBLIMES
Afew moments later, they were inbed. Anna felt

inhumanly strange when theblack wall appeared above
her. Padovs face seemed toflounder inher darkness.
Soon it was all over andtheinscrutable that had gripped
her entire being foraninstant moved offsomewhere,
into thealienated distance. Buttheyd managed tocon-
nect thecrude andnarrow reality ofthesex act with
therefined andominous existence oftheunknown.
The next morning, all this went deeper still,
asiftheunknown had curled upandhidden behind
theordinary.
True, these inner minglings made the ordinary,
the barely illuminated, seem as if it were a thing
in itself turned inside out. It seemed to Anna that
Padovs forehead was glowing, butwith asimple light.
Tolya silently cleared the table and moved around
the room, past the cupboard. The ordinary had
already been cracked bytherecent inrush oftheun-
known. Nearly everyone in the house was asleep,
but Anna and Padovs peace was broken by a knock
at the door; the door seemed to open of its own
accord and in walked little Mila. Why, shes blind,
Padov exclaimed, andthese were his first words since
theprevious night. Indeed, silently, like ablind girl,
Mila walked from thedoor tothewindow.
Oh no, she can see. She just doesnt like totalk,
Anna replied, gazing into Milas face.
Infact, themore precise impression was that Mila
did seeonly what?
103
Of course, neither Padov nor Anna knew that

Mila, whose face didnt normally express anything,
had abizarre condition born inher recently. Seeing,
she saw nothing. For example, formally, Mila saw
theobjects inAnnas room, butthis did not arouse
inher asubjective sensation ofseeing them, although
she could orient herself.
Thats why Mila sat down on a chair, simply, ir-
respectively, andasked forsome tea, which she drank
asifit were air.
Padov and Anna left her and stepped out into
the Sonnov yard. Old man Kolya was already lying
there, under abench, good anddrunk. He had covered
his dear face with acap. Seating herself next toPadov
at the small wooden table, Anna initiated him into
thesecrets oftheSonnov house. Especially enchanting
for Padov was the transformation of Andrei Nikitich,
whom he now called thecock-corpse.
Suddenly, behind him, Klavas mellow, vaguely
insane voice rang out.
So cozy! So divine! Annulya might aswell be suck-
ling the Divine poison from his penis. Ahand she
affectionately mauled Annas breast with her puffy hand.
Nice! Padov thought briefly.
Ibrought alittle water with me. Its refreshing,
Klavusha babbled on, taking aseat. Here.
She put apail ofwater onthetable.
Nice looking! Padov thought with even more
delight.
104
THE SUBLIMES
Right then, thesound ofabodys brittle fall came

from the shed. It was Andrei Nikitich, scampering
outlike achicken; only he looked pretty ghastly, more
like achicken headed forthenext world.
He shook himself offandwalked over tothe people
talking. Everyone waited forhim tenderly; butonly now
that hed become a chicken did Klavushka, for some
reason, consider him, onthecontrary, aperson.
Two days before, Andrei Nikitich had started tocon-
verse, but rather monosyllabically. Terribly changed
even outwardly, he now looked, after afew days ofhis
new life, more like a dead chicken than a live one,
andnow, inhis monosyllabic expressions, he no longer
insisted so much onbeing achicken, butrather opined
that he was simply dead.
When thecock-corpse walked uptothetable, Padov
embraced andkissed him. They sat down atthetable.
Each drank some water from thepail.
Tell me, Andrei Nikitich, Padov turned to him.
They say you used tobe avery religious man, right?
Ive read your unpublished books about theLord.
The cock-corpse looked at Padov in consterna-
tion, jumped up, and, with a ghastly yellow face like
ahanged chicken, pecked him onthecheek.
Have psychiatrists examined him? Padov asked.
Alyosha was wasting his time. Anna grinned.
Before you arrived, awhole gang ofthem invaded and,
you know, they said his psyche was normal, only alittle
diminished. Its just that Andrei Nikitichs intellect has
105
declined, they said. Cant you see that psychiatry has

nothing todo with this, Tolya? Ithink hes obviously
been transformed into another being thats completely
different, inhuman.
The psychiatrists shouldve been called in when
Andrei Nikitich believed intheLord, Klavushka inter-
jected bawdily. Not now.
Im just dead, Andrei Nikitich suddenly responded
innormal human language.
Everyone fell silent andtears welled upinAnnas eyes.
Thats just what I thought, that psychiatry was
beside the point, Padov exclaimed, breaking the si-
lence. Andrei Nikitich, you say youre dead. You say it,
which means youre alive.
Padov walked over and stared coldly into Andrei
Nikitichs eyes, which were asdull asacocks.
Youre alive, butliving aspecial, dead life! Do you
see? he went on. Do you remember how you used
tolive, how you believed inGod?
Foramoment, thespark ofsome monstrous, inhu-
man consciousness flashed inAndrei Nikitichs eyes.
That was all drivel, he said. The spark went
outandhis face again took onits cockish expression.
Padov froze, struck bythat spark.
You know what? He turned toAnna. His change
toacock, that may be atransitional stage. Some new
consciousness is being born inhim right now, only its
adead consciousness. Dead with respect towhats human
andinthesense ofbeing underground, inaway.
106
THE SUBLIMES
Cluck cluck cluck! The cock-corpse interrupted,

jumping onto thetable andoverturning thepail ofwater.
Hes perfectly normal, Klavushka said, coddling
Annas ass.
Astoadead consciousness, lets wait andsee,
Anna added.
Yes, lets wait and see, Klavushka rejoiced juic-
ily. How about some night-night now? Tostart theday
right. Along time ago, Idug upthree pits inthegarden,
the front garden. I even put some grass down there.
Like grass graves. Ive slept there twice already.
Padov burst outlaughing, looking atAnna. Asyn-
thesisandwhat asynthesis! Andall three did indeed
head forthegrass graves. Milas shadow flitted past them.
Too bad Fyodors not here, Anna thought.
What did Andrei Nikitich say about theinhabitants
ofthis house before his transformation? Padov asked
Klava when theyd all lain inthepits. Thegraves were
side byside, immured inthemselves, butPadov lifted
his head slightly above theground, forconversation.
Klavas voice came from underground and, forsome
reason, carried rather obscene intonations. Oh, I be-
lieve he thought we were all evil.
Padov laughed loudly. But we arent evil, were
just otherworldly, he said, andhe hid his head inhis
grass grave.
As evening fell, merriment reigned throughout
theSonnov-Fomichev yard. Mila, while seeing nothing,
had climbed atree. Petenka scraped himself under it,
107
with aface frenzied over himself. Tipsy old man Kolya,

barely keeping his feet, searched all over the yard
forthegrave ofhis little girl Lidochka, though she was
buried onLebedinoyes outskirts.
First toclimb outofher grass grave was Klavushka.
Mentally absurdifying everything around her, so
that the absurdity was squared, Klavushka wandered
offtoput some food together.
Padov was called thefavorite oftheworld beyond
thegrave forgood reason; inhis grass grave, hed come
upwith something about his future life that he couldnt
bring himself to tell even Anna. His face drained
andhe climbed out. Metaphysical nightmares often filed
through his soul, one more monstrous than theother.
Thechange ofsituation may have been afactor this time.
Anna was still lying inher grave, admiring her-
self in a hand mirror, searching for the inscrutable
inherself.
Anna was also haunted bytheprevious night andher
coupling with Padov andthething initself. Before this,
shed lived for stretches with Padov, but never with
thething initself. Even thephysical satisfaction from
that night seemed awful andwell beyond theordinary.
She couldnt even tell whether she was gratified orsimply
calmcalm with thecold oftheunknown. Youre our
metaphysical courtesan, Padov often told her.
They ate in the yard again, at the usual table.
They couldnt get Andrei Nikitich tosit with them; he
kept crowing and sulking. Finally, taking pity, Klava
108
THE SUBLIMES
scattered groats on the grass for him and Andrei

Nikitich got down onall fours andhappily pecked them
up. Old man Kolya, whod previously gone after Andrei
Nikitich with aknife, now had aspecial intimacy with
him. He gave the old man a complicated sign with
his fingers and the cock-corpse suddenly sat timidly
onthebench, atthetable. Soon after, old man Kolya
jumped up and dashed off after Petenka, but Andrei
Nikitich stayed where he was.
Catching his rather intelligentfrom the human
standpointlook, Padov asked, Andrei Nikitich,
whats wrong with you, really? Explain it to me,
forGods sake. Thesame fate may await us all. Whats
wrong with you?
My thoughts are numb, Andrei Nikitich an-
swered abruptly.
What do you mean, numb? You mean you arent
thinking about anything?
No.
The cock-corpse shook his head and fell silent
again, like avery real chicken. He gave theimpression
that he had spoken cursorily, with thevery last atom
ofhuman consciousness left tohim.
He has to be shaken out of it somehow, Klava
said, squeezing her tasty little fingers. Annulya, have
you ever slept with fowl? Try toseduce him!
Padov sniggered. Klavusha suddenly came tolife.
We should have adrink, everyone, she said, look-
ing atthetree. Lets go inside. Its nicer there.
109
Everyone stood up. Padov led Andrei Nikitich

bythearm andmumbled, Hes totally incommunica-
tive. Butwell get through tohim.
Theroom where Klava led her friends was gloomy
andcozy; there were strange, dark images inthecorner
bytheplump bed.
Agosling appeared outofnowhere. It was Klavusha
whod brought it in, pressing it toher full breast. Then
she snatched it up and darted into a small, adjoin-
ing storeroom, the door to which sheltered between
the corner and a bulging cupboard. The cock-corpse
took aleap onto thebed with anindifferent guffaw.
Anya andPadov poured themselves alittle vodka.
Abloody sunset looked atthem through thewindows.
Klavushas getting her kicks. Anna winked
atPadov. Only how, no one knows.
Annas soul remained occupied by the inscrutable,
and even Padovs face was like a surrealistic window
ontheinscrutable world, butoutwardly Anna was there.
A flushed Klavusha appeared about ten minutes
later. She was holding the gosling, which was twist-
ing andturning.
A gathering like this, she said, glancing
atPadov, calls foranappropriate morsel. Ill slaugh-
ter this gosling inaflash andprepare it thequickest
way Iknow how.
Aslightly tipsy Padov gave her anapproving slap
on the hip. Klavusha disappeared in the darkness
ofthecorridor.
110
THE SUBLIMES
Utterly exhausted by the sincerity and horror

of his inner life, Padov was behaving hysterically,
like aholy fool.
Now he went to Anna with a request that she
seduce thecock-corpse atleast tosome degree.
Maybe then hell rise from his grave. Akind ofres-
urrection from thedead. Padov sniggered.
Alittle drunk andabsorbed inher own thoughts
about the unknown, Anna, like a sleepwalker, sud-
denly began toact.
She sat on the bed next to the cock-corpse and,
stroking his hands and looking into his face, began
tospeak oflove andtenderness, mostly with her eyes.
But Andrei Nikitich didnt react at all; afterward
he even started bucking anddrooling.
Hopeless, Padov muttered.
Suddenly, perhaps because Anna made some move-
ment or because of something else, Andrei Nikitichs
dull eyes lit up.
Oho! Padov said.
Thestrangest thing was that thecock-corpses eyes
hadnt lit up at Anna; he was obviously looking past
her, into space. His body was still, but his eyes lit
upmore andmore with adim, ghastly interest. He kept
gazing into theemptiness, asifhe saw something there.
Not only that, Anna thought his eyes expressed anavid
sexual interest inthat emptiness.
Instinctively, Padov pressed close toAnna. Aswitch
suddenly flicked onandAnna, standing andclinging
111
to Padov, began dancing with him quietly, as if they

were alone intheroom, intoxicated bytheir substan-
tial insanity.
Sometimes they looked over at the cock-corpse.
ButAndrei Nikitich was not aroused.
He got upand, with thesame expression ofghastly
interest inhis dull eyes, wandered off. Something had
occurred inhim andAnna suddenly saw (orimagined?)
that this something was adequate compensation
fortheabsence ofasex life there. Compensation that
might occur only intheworld where theold man now
found himself.
The old man mumbled, occasionally crouching
and nodding at the emptiness. In his consciousness,
evidently, certain processes were taking place that out-
wardly, since he was still in his earthly form, were
expressed in an ugly and absurd way. Once, Andrei
Nikitich even bayed.
It seemed toPadov that since theold mans thoughts
had been numbed, he wasnt thinking bythinking.
Forsome reason, Anna recalled theidea ofthelarge
numberthe infinity, maybeof worlds that exist
apart from, butsomewhere close toours. Were looking
atone ofthem, she thought.
All ofasudden, Andrei Nikitich stumbled andslowly
dropped into achair, like astiffened monster. Thedoor
swung wide open andinwalked Klavusha with thecooked
gosling onaplatter; she was smiling with her whole col-
lapsed, puffy, greasy face. Look how fast Iam!
112
THE SUBLIMES
Thevodka wasnt finished offyet; it was onthetable,

swimming intheevening light, andeveryone sat down
except, ofcourse, thecock-corpse, whod lapsed into un-
consciousness andwas crawling around thefloor.
Anna andPadov were struck bythelive goslings
swift transformation into adead, juicy dish. This story
stabbed very painfully at the heart, underscoring all
oflifes illusoriness.
Anna couldnt put a piece of meat in her mouth
without shuddering. Klavusha good-naturedly tucked
thepleasure away.
Youre eating your little lover, Klavdia Ivanovna?
Padov was moved.
Klavusha blushed, but unrelatedly somehow, al-
though apiece did get stuck inher throat.
Did it go down? Anna sympathized.
Yes. Klava smiled. All theway down. Andshe
stroked her belly contentedly. Thepiece had, indeed.
113
XVI
Alexei Khristoforov arrived thenext day. After hed checked

uponAndrei Nikitich, he learned about Padov andwanted
toslip away, butTolya wouldnt give him thechance.
Annushka, too, tried todetain him until theeve-
ning, taking her own unique care ofhim. Khristoforov
hid from them in various corners, in the shed,
andamid thefirewood.
The cock-corpse didnt react to him at all,
butwas quite embittered andsat intheshed, sulking
andred-faced, high upontheboards, theway chick-
ens usually sit onaroost.
Stunned by it all, Khristoforov went to see old
man Kolya, butonhis way there, little Mila gave him
abit ofascare.
If Anna and Alexei had their own relationship,
then Khristoforov had lately found Padov and his
circle utterly unbearable. Especially thecombination
ofAnna andPadov.
He was afraid of Padov, afraid of summoning up
through himhideous impulses inhimself. Though Padov
often had about him the utter rubbish of a holy fool,
Alyosha sensed that all this concealed something, thesight
ofwhich would make him run into thegrass andpray.
But this time, at the Sonnovs, he couldnt get
away from Padov.
114
THE SUBLIMES
You do know, Alyosha, Padov said, looking lov-

ingly into his eyes, that God is atvariance with your
existenceandTolya gave asnigger, theviscerally hys-
terical and, asfar astheoutside world was concerned,
moronic laugh he always laughed inthese instances.
Khristoforov opened his mouth inconsternation. He
didnt even try tomake sense ofthis statementthat
is, toimagine that God, inthis case, could be atvari-
ance with what He had createdbuthe did feel quite
offended andeven rather injured. Themore irrational
these pranks, themore they drove him todistraction.
God is not atvariance with my essence atall, he
said perplexedly, drooling alittle. God loves me very
much, he added, now looking very silly, asifhe were
atapsychiatrist appointment.
But then he came to his senses. He jumped
upandran tosee Anna inher room.
Im leaving! he exclaimed. That black bastard is
starting totaunt me again!
Oh, quit it, Alyosha, Klavusha suddenly inter-
jected, from outofnowhere. You just dont understand
kindness!
Khristoforov shrieked, grabbed his bag, andrushed
offacross theyard andtothestreet. Ashe went, it
seemed tohim that God, asHe is infact andnot inHis
teachings, truly was at variance with his, Alyoshas,
existence. This soon made Khristoforov feel terribly
foolish andabandoned bytheworld. Even his own body
didnt feel like it was where it should be.
115
Meanwhile, Anna went to scold Padov. She saw

that after all these storms over things inthemselves,
after this burgeoning synthesis with the peoples
latent, dark confoundment, Padov himself was inthrall
to inner hysterics, in thrall to his own element. She
also sensed that, right now, he wasnt upforher.
Amid thegeneral detachment andher own sparks
of love for ideal, comprehensible essences and delir-
ious worlds, Anna was frequently hypersensitive
topeople, toopeople close toher inspirit, naturally.
That was why Padovs attitude hurt her. She was
offended that she wasnt atthecenter ofTolyas state
ofmind, so togive herself aboost, she stroked her own
breast asshe went down thestairs, foramoment awash
inlove forherself.
Leave Alexei alone, she pounced onPadov. What
did he do toyou? Let him live inhis comfortable little
Christian world.
ButPadov interrupted her.
Heres what, he said softly. Ifeel that something
is imminent. You stay here if you want, but I have
togo. Well see each other soon anyway.
From Tolyas face, Anna could see that he spoke
the truth and was going somewhere irrevocably
orrather, fleeing.
Thesooner thebetter, she thought.
Anhour later, Padov left thehouse, butfirst hed
spent along time whispering with Klavaabout Fyodor,
asAnna later learned.
116
XVII
Anna saw Padov nearly to the station. She didnt

know who she was saying goodbye to, athing initself
oraperson.
Afilthy cat kept running andmeowing ather feet.
Frightened by thoughts aimed at the world, Anna re-
treated inward andthere, atthebottom ofher soul, saw
illuminations all theway home.
Far away, under a tree, someone was wailing
heartrendingly.
Exhausted, Anna collapsed on her bed and fell
asleep.
Inthemiddle ofthenight, she had adream. Atfirst,
she saw Izvitskythe very same man whom Alyosha
Khristoforov had called nightmarish. After Padov, he
was probably theperson closest toAnna.
Izvitsky walked in very quietly after opening
the door to Annas room, there in the Sonnov house.
Butasoften happens indreams, thespaces were con-
fused. The room itself looked like Annas in Moscow,
though the window looked out, not on Moscow,
butonadeep blue space where doves soared, asiftheyd
broken free from religious paintings.
Izvitsky seemed tolinger, looking around asifhe
didnt recognize anything. In one corner, the rooms
wall moved back slightly andbeyond it gaped anabyss.
117
Anna sensed that her own presence was somewhere

nearby, here inthis room, although she didnt see her-
self. Izvitsky had asoft, smooth body with little folds
that sank into themselves, butshe later recalled theex-
pression onhis face asspiteful anddreary.
Eventually, he walked slowly toward Annas bed, where
she suddenly not only sensed, but saw herself. At this,
Anna began dreaming something completely incredible
andawful. AsIzvitsky came closer, she disappeared.
Disappeared, expelled from her dream into akind
ofnothingness.
That fierce, subjective attachment the sleeping
person feels forhimself inhis dream also began tofall
away because she had no self left. This gradual dis-
appearance was not only frightening and tortuous,
butalso bizarre, like aslow expulsion from theworld
itself. Anna felt a warm sweat on the insides of her
spread-eagled legs, like themoisture ofpity andmercy.
Suddenly, everything changed and there was
an abrupt, designated break: All at once, her I
completely dropped out of her dream, which took
onanew quality.
Her dream became formalized and awful, as if it
were happening outside ofher; ifit werent forthesi-
multaneous continuity with her soul, she could have
observed it with detached calm, like anaction onan-
other planet oroutside thepresent. Theagony passed
andAnna watched her dream almost coldly, not feeling
where orwhat she was.
118
THE SUBLIMES
Meanwhile, Izvitsky continued toapproach her bed

slowly, with thesame oreven greater desire. Whats he
looking for? Anna thought. After all, Im not there.
She began tofeel uneasy. What could he be looking
forinanempty space? Suddenly, Izvitsky hovered di-
rectly over thebed. Something moved under theblanket
andhe threw theblanket back with passion andhope
and Anna saw an emptiness, but a coiled emptiness.
There was nothing onthebed, butthat emptiness was
jerking, andvery sensually; thats what made theblan-
ket move. It seemed toAnna that Izvitsky was smiling
filthily and knowingly at this emptiness. What hap-
pened afterward cant be known, because Anna started
towake up. Slowly, she recovered. Shed taken her ab-
sence from her own dream ominously hard, harder
than any phobia, especially for its consequences; her
soul had adefinite chill now.
Once shed recovered alittle, she got outofbed. It
was night. The stars flickering in the dark suddenly
began speaking and, to Anna, these were the voices
come tolife, scattered all over theworld, ofall theidiots
yearning onearth.
119
Part Two
I
After Fyodor quit Klavas comfort, he went right about

his business and headed north, to remotest Russia,
Arkhangelsk.
He didnt so much asglance atpeople; more often,
he was preoccupied byAnna andsomething else, awful
andindeterminate asalways.
Sometimes, when he did take agood look, people
appeared not as live enigmas that needed killing so
he could somehow guess their secret, but, onthecon-
trary, like glowing, ready-made corpses, without any
secrets whatsoever. So many corpses, Fyodor thought
atthetrain station square filled with milling crowds.
Twice, looking up out of childish curiosity, he dis-
tinctly saw skeletons glowing like ablue flame inside
living, air-smoked human flesh.
Theyre going to grab each other by the throat
now, he thought artlessly, looking atsome hysterically
talkative businessmen onthetrain.
Inthetrain car, his long, senseless gaze startled alive
young woman who was alittle afraid ofher own thoughts.
121
Forsome reason, she decided he was hungry andof-

fered him asandwich.
Fyodor froze andlooked outthewindow: vast, drear-
gripped fields and small abandoned houses flashed by;
sometimes it seemed as though everything was just
about todisappear ordrop through theearth.
There was a calm in his soul like a dead mass;
even asleep, he dreamed of nothing but stones.
Trying to stay awake, he listened to his stomach,
asifit were theonly thing alive inhim; he listened
toits modulations, plunging into thebottomless flesh
ofhis soul, butthepresence ofconsciousness numbed
even his stomach.
The sensitive young woman near him even won-
dered whether Fyodor thought only with his stomach
andhad ahead merely forappearances sake. He drew
those around him to his stomach, as if his stomach
were aghastly temple pulling them in.
Pretty fine was that look ofhis, his gloomy stomach
heaving inits dark thoughts andhis perfectly rudimen-
tary head, like aheel orapiece ofmeat.
Intheclickety-clack, Fyodor reached his station,
D.Theconsciousness returning tohis head made his
head feel very odd, meandering, kind of. That was
how Fyodor found himself inthis town shot through
with wind and staggering people. At the square,
which was too big, especially compared tothesmall,
cozy, one-story houses, Fyodor would catch the bus
that went to the ridiculous little airfield, and from
122
there hed fly to R., which couldnt be reached any
other way because there were no roads. Fyodor spent
two days around that square, plunging his face into
theditches andpaths around thehouses. One night,
he woke up and howled wildly under the windows
of one house, and, for some reason, the inhabitants
dreamed ofnothing butangels.
Finally, Fyodor boarded afilthy, half-wrecked, ab-
surdly moldering, jam-packed bus. Thedriveracrazy,
balding, strapping guystarted outdriving fast, madly,
asifhe were heading forthenext world. Butonce he
got past the station and onto the deserted, half-for-
ested road, he drove asifhe were sleeping thewhole
time. He yawned so loudly thewhole bus could hear
and spat at the ceiling, but the people were still
andself-absorbed.
Fyodor even got the impression that this wasnt
a bus at all, but a house of worship speeding along
on wheels. Evidently, each person was praying to his
own loneliness. Only thedriver was too peppy. He kept
looking absurdly from side toside andturning around,
barely holding the steering wheel with his paws. He
treated thewheel mostly asaplace torest his elbows.
So Fyodor rode halfway inpeace. Intermittently,
there would be a fine north Russian drizzle, like
thetears ofsome withered divinity. Thedriver sud-
denly stopped the vehicle and leapt out. Sullenly,
standing outside, he addressed thepassengers sitting
inthebus.
123
Anybody want adrink? he asked dully. Thepassen-

gers stirred turbidly, butevidently they were used tothis.
Strangely enough, no vodka lovers were found, though its
true, there were none butold women andold men.
Well, well wait here a little, until I have some
hair ofthedog, thedriver said and, pulling abottle
of vodka and some sausage out of his pocket, he sat
down attheside oftheroad.
The passengers spirits sank a little and someone
started singing. After drinking his vodka, the driver
came back tothepassengers.
Hey, Im going totake anap andthen well go, he
said lazily. Everyone was silent.
What do you mean? Im late fortheairfield, anold
woman with three baskets squeaked.
You wont be late, thedriver interrupted her sternly.
Theplanes more likely tobe late than you. He doesnt
look attheschedule. Hey, its sunny upthere again.
Andthedriver went over toatreetosleep.
Hell be a while now, Petya. That other driver,
Kostya, he doesnt sleep so much during thetrip, one
ofthelocal old men said.
Thedriver slept under thetree andthepassengers
wandered off. One paced around thebus; another went
into thewoods formushrooms.
Dont get lost! atattered little old woman shouted
despairingly. Fyodor went into thewoods, too, buthe
just stood byatree foralong time. There were no more
skeletons inhis mind. There was Anna.
124
THE SUBLIMES
That afternoon they reached the airfield, a vast

wasteland that reminded him of the train station
square, only not bordered bylittle houses. There were
afew mangled planes ontheground. Theright plane,
infact, hadnt arrived yet; it was about four hours late
andaline had formed near theemptiness attheair-
field, asifit were alawn. Theold woman with three
baskets tried to be first. An old man sang songs.
But Fyodor saw no one. Sometimes posts would sur-
face inhis consciousness, instead ofpeople. Wet black
birds cawed restlessly andflew around.
Finally, theplane showed up. It was small andlooked
ready tofall apart atany moment. It was even more un-
assuming than thefilthy bus. Thelittle crowd climbed
happily into the plane as the half-drunk pilot herded
them on: hurry up, hurry up. Thefull little plane made
its ascent, toward theravens. Through thedividing wall,
thepassengers could hear thepilot cursing andhooting
drunkenly ashe talked tosomeone over theradio. When
they were high up, thedoor tothepassenger cabin fell
offandflew toearth. Ihope we dont fall out, thetat-
tered little old woman thought infright, andshe shifted
away from thenewly formed emptiness.
Fyodor felt like sticking his face into that emp-
tiness indifferently. Meanwhile, the pilot was arguing
with someone ontheground over theradio.
Im not gonna land at that field, the pilot mut-
tered. Im flying past Solnechnoye, andthen Ill land.
Im not landing atSolnechnoye today.
125
The pilot landed by the skin of his teeth

onthegrass near R.Stunned, butenergetic, thepas-
sengers poured out.
Were not flying any farther fornow, thepilot
warned sullenly. Out of fuel. Ill go see the village
chairman. Hell give me some. We traded our fuel
forvodka.
As if under a spell, the little crowd spread
out where they could. But Fyodor was right where
hed meant togo.
A fine machine; itll put up with anything,
thepilot said inparting, andhe kicked theplane asifit
were awagon.
Fyodor liked this indifferent attitude toward equip-
ment; he himself almost never noticed the existence
ofmachines.
In R., Fyodor had certain monetary transactions
tocomplete.
Adistant relative, alocal old-timer who looked more
like anold woman, first waved arag athim andthen
ran offinto thewoods, butFyodor caught upandheld
onto his sleeve. He slept onthefloor, inacabin, squint-
ing mistrustfully attheworldly light, hiding head down
inthedark. Surprisingly, he played hide-and-seek with
asmall, withered little girl.
It was crazy tosee him, so huge he blocked thesun,
butatthesame time, hiding from who knows what.
In a field near the houses, the young people
were still playing knucklebones. Fyodor himself
126
THE SUBLIMES
was prepared to play for scandals sake. The young

people staggered back athis heavy, sullen, andgrave
expressionthats what he looked like playing knuck-
lebonesand he wheezed as he played. He returned
to the cabin alone, constantly looking around awk-
wardly, andwas met bythehowling ofhomeless cats
that had accurately picked uphis scent.
127
II
Fyodor wrapped up his affairs, and in the morning,

alone, he headed toward therising sun andthenearest
train station. Sonnov hadnt regarded thesun asthesun
foralong time; he saw it asalifeless, scorching being
that was dead inside andmade its rounds forothers. He
liked to warm himself in these rays of death, to suck
upthewarmth ofthebeing that had died forhim.
Sometimes he would stop and threaten the sun
with his huge, black fist. Inthat instant, he felt he was
the only thing in the universe capable of doing away
with all theaccumulated junk.
But when he found himself among people again,
in the human bustle, their presence started gnawing
athim all over again. Naturally, they didnt press onhis
being; no, he still felt self-contained, but at the same
time they irritated him strangely bybeing so mysteri-
ous andillusory, while making thewhole world illusory.
This wasnt that durable, tickling, and somehow
real illusoriness Fyodor sometimes felt in himself,
butaturbid, superficial illusoriness, afrightening burden
tobe actively fought. Onthetrain, Fyodor even pinched
one sweet old woman hard onthethigh. She shrieked,
butFyodor immediately leaned over andgave her such
alook that theold woman nearly vanished. Even ani-
mals began irritating Fyodor; atone stop, byawell, he
128
THE SUBLIMES
smashed inahorses head with abeam. Then he hid and,

foralong time, watched through thebeer stand window
asthey cleared away thehorses body. Closer toMoscow,
in the little town of N., he suddenly scratched the fat
coiled neck ofayoung woman when she turned around.
Meanwhile, Fyodor was once again drawn in his
ghastly old way to killing. Rocking on the commuter
train, he considered possible victims. It wasnt that hed
completely lost his mind andcounted onkilling atwill;
he was simply conducting apsychological exercise: who
would he kill with pleasure andwho without?
He had no desire totouch dead andrepulsive, tal-
entless beings; he was more drawn tospiritual, angelic
little faces or unusual ones, distorted and frightened
ones. There was a youngish, fat, slimy lady quaking
infear atthetrains wild motion, whom he especially
wanted tostrangle then andthere, inthedark corner
where she thought shed be buriedput anend toher
andthen gaze with his entire face into her dead, glassy
eyes, which might reflect theentire inner course ofher
life, asit vanished into eternity.
Later, atastationinthebuffetFyodor felt ahell-
ish desire toskin theoverstuffed woman who sat with
her back tohim, chewing with relish, skin her andsee
how shed eat all bared flesh andskinless. This desire
actually frightened him alittle because it bore no direct
relation tohis killing idea. Fyodor stood upandwent
to the square, into the open. After a brief walk, he
quickly lapsed into his usual state ofmind.
129
Every now and then, hed find people walking

toward him and, asusual, their disconnect from their
own existence irritated him. Just look how many
crosswords theLord put onearth, he thought, spitting
juicily and looking carefully into the faces of pass-
ersby. They talk and they walk, and all without me.
Andthey seem tobe just like me. Hmm Its apuzzle.
Iwish Icould sweep them allawayinto emptiness.
Not only was death his soul, butso was thegeneral
enigma ofother peoples existence. Orrather, it was all
tied together in his unified, vast, and perplexed atti-
tude toward what was outwardly alive, toward people.
Soon after, Fyodor got tired and darted onto
thelocal commuter train.
The dear, mysterious, eternally Russian fields
and forests that flashed by seemed to him, deafened
as he was by this world, slightly hysterical and off,
even intheir forsakenness andnirvana.
Sonnov knew where togo: thelittle nest.
This was the village of Fyrino, far in the oppo-
site direction from Lebedinoye. There, in a run-down
little house, lived awrinkled, nearly hundred-year-old
woman, Ipatievna, who was so demented she drank
theblood oflive cats, butshe adored Fyodor. Ipatievna
was demented only in the trivial, earthly sense; she
had asharp andnever-closing eye ontheotherworldly.
Klavusha considered her very reliable and even some
kind ofdistant relative. Fyodor had every reason not
to hide much from her. On his way from the station,
130
THE SUBLIMES
as he passed through a field, Fyodor looked into

theeyes ofalittle boy outhunting mushrooms. Theboy
was dumbfounded bythat look foralong time.
Old Ipatievnas little house was in the center
ofthevillage, butso dilapidated that it was ontheverge
offalling apart. Across theway was aninsane, almost
incomprehensible, three-bench bazaar wherefollowing
their inner feelingthey sold nothing but emptiness,
although lots ofpeople crowded around thebenches.
Ipatievna greeted Fyodor with a blood-curdling,
gut scream; darting out from the blackness of her
semi-uninhabitable, tumbledown rooms, she threw her-
self around his neck; Fyodor shook offtheold woman
inhis own way andpetted her.
There was one bed inher poor andmessy room; ev-
erything was covered indirt, butonthefloor, where
youd usually find chamber pots, there were also jars
offresh cats blood; theskinny, little, fear-distorted face
of the neighbor boy who supplied Ipatievna with cats
forsmall change peeked outfrom under thebed.
In the other room, where the ceiling had col-
lapsed in places, the threesome celebrated their
meeting at a table set with candles. A huge and cau-
tious donor-cat looked into Fyodors eyes from thefloor
and meowed. But Fyodor was alienated even from
strange animals. Moving the boy aside, he went into
thedark, tothehayloft, tosleep.
131
III
Thenext day, Fyodor stepped outinto theworld andits

open expanses. Themorning purity embraced his flesh
andpenetrated his lungs.
ButFyodor had just one thing onhis mind: killing.
Great joy you bring people, Fedya! old Ipatievna
cawed ashe left.
Butthefreshness seemed tobury everything oth-
erworldly; the birdies flew around gaily, chirping,
practically atFyodors feet.
Sonnov boarded anearly empty morning bus and
rode afew stops tothevillage ofPetrovo. Memories drew
him. It was here, intheforest, orrather, in an aban-
doned manorial park, not far from theonly absurdly
remaining bench, that hed killed ayouth engrossed
in reciting poetry to himself a few years earlier.
Andthen, apparently, hed bit his neck Sluggishly,
Fyodor got off at the stop and looked around.
Thesame oravery similar road led toanearby, en-
croaching forest.
Along the way, he met two men and a little sev-
en-year-old girl; her eyes looked like inserted sky. This
made Fyodor sad. He wouldnt mind killing one like that.
Sonnov divided uphis victims into ordinary, irri-
tating ones, whom he killed just because ofthegeneral
characteristics ofhis soul, andblessed ones, whom he
132
THE SUBLIMES
also loved very much, having felt alanguorous attrac-

tion forthem while they were alive, through his sullen
andotherworldly soul.
Butthose hed already killed, those whod gone into
the emptinesswhether ordinary or blessedSonnov
loved with adifferent, even, sweet, almost religious love.
Assoon asaperson hed killed disappeared, that victim
was gradually transformed for Fyodor from an object
ofirritation orpuzzlement into aquiet andholy, albeit
incomprehensible being. Fyodor hoped forhis interven-
tion inthenext world.
Scattered throughout Russia were Fyodors holy
places, where hed erected invisible temples at kill-
ing sites and frequently prayed for himself. Even
in their absence, on the road or in solitude, Fyodor
often addressed those hed killed with tender emotion
andbegged fortheir help, whether earthly orheavenly.
Somehow well meet upthere, he would sigh with
relief, andtheir presence inthenext world was thesole
reason Fyodor sometimes yearned forthat world him-
self. Forsome reason, he believed they guaranteed him
personal immortality.
You bring people great joy, Fedya, he now re-
membered Ipatievna saying, as he wandered over
to the bench. Images of those hed killed raced
through the air or his imagination; theyd become
his guardian angels.
Once hed driven his consciousness into every
cranny of his body, Fyodor relaxed; occasionally he
133
prayed inhis unique way, slapping his thigh. Minutes

like this did not come easily tohim; he treasured them,
reveling in their tender emotion. Usually they hap-
pened abruptly andFyodor found himself inhis usual,
slightly disturbed state ofmind.
Thats what had happened now. His guardian
angels had vanished, the forests existence pressed
on him, and Fyodor began breathing heavily into
the emptiness. He looked around, got up with satis-
faction, and shook his fist at the heavens. Loosened
upnow, he plunged deep into theforest, into madness.
Everything dear andfamiliar was already alive inhis
chest. Straying down paths, deeper anddeeper, Fyodor
thirsted forakilling.
Finally, when hed lost hope of finding anything
alive and conscious, he saw an olderinwardly he
seemed even olderman, sitting on a stump behind
abush. He was skinny, tall, andgraying with ahand-
somely frightening face, like theDevil praying. Actually,
Sonnov didnt linger on his face. Cautiously making
sure ofthemans solitude, he walked toward him with
a long, decisive stride, staggering slightly from impa-
tience. Fyodor jutted his ugly face forward athis victim
and, making no attempt tohide, pulled from his pocket
his enormous, rusty knife.
When the man saw Fyodor, he got up from
the stump. With his legs spread slightly apart, he
looked at Fyodor sullenly and with blank suspi-
cion, without moving, gradually realizing that this
134
THE SUBLIMES
stranger wanted to kill him. As he approached,

Fyodor looked inside his victim, trying topluck his
essence. Suddenly, when Sonnov got close, the man
abruptly stripped off his pants and his absurd un-
derpants, turning so as to better show Fyodor his
nether regions.
Fyodor froze insurprise andwas totally stunned
when he saw that the nether regions on this man
were empty. No penis, no balls. Nonetheless, theman
was putting his empty place on display and even
trying to make sure Fyodor got the point. Sonnov
dropped his knife.
Names Mikhei. Mikhei, the man mumbled, ad-
vancing toward Fyodor, half-naked and extending his
hand. Mikhei.
Sonnov suddenly lost his desire to kill; en-
tranced, he looked atthemans empty nether regions.
Inturn, Mikhei realized immediately that he wasnt
going tobe killed. Without putting onhis pants, he
sat onthenearest stump. Fyodor settled next tohim,
ontheground.
Lets have asmoke, Mikhei said amicably.
Fyodor relaxed andeven took aninterest inall this.
He pulled acrumpled pack ofcigarettes outofhis pocket.
Were you born like that? he said gloomily, look-
ing atthemans nether regions.
Oh no, I justchopped em off myselfbecause
Iwas sick ofitgallivanting around night after night.
What do you mean sick?
135
You know, sick ofit all. Chopped em offintheshed

myself with thehelp ofGod andman. AndVanyutka
cauterized it.
Fyodor got up, walked away, and angrily kicked
his knife well away. Mikhei watched him with surprise
and delight. His handsome, mobile, meaningful face
broke into afilthy smile.
Are you sure youre not one of us? he asked
Fyodor.
What do you mean, one ofus?
You know, from over thereand Mikhei made
a meaningful gesture with his hand, pointing either
athis head ordeep under theground.
They emerged from theforest almost friends. Mikhei
wasnt theleast bit afraid ofFyodor; onthecontrary,
Mikhei, since his shock, looked grave andsignificant,
wise, even handsome; hed taught Fyodor something.
Sonnov listened tohim with turbid, visible pleasure.
One was tall, with gray hair, and insanely mellow;
the other, shorter and thickset, had a wolfishly
knowing face. And so they walked down the road,
toward the village. Cautious, clamorous people gave
them a wide berth. An hour later, they were sitting
inadirty little sort ofbeer stand near thebus stop.
Mikhei lived alone, not far away, in the next sub-
urban village. He invited Fyodor home, to his small
nest. Mikheis vacant andhandsome, scratch-free face
was consoling. Hes anapparition, not aman, Fyodor
thought with satisfaction.
136
THE SUBLIMES
Maybe youre asectarian? Fyodor suddenly asked,

after thefirst mug.
Mikheis face puckered.
Ughand he spit. Im my own person. I cut it
offbecause Iwas sick ofit, not because ofphilosophiz-
ing. Iknow those sectarians. Ugh. Dreamers. They take
me forone ofthem. Ifyou wantMikhei leaned spit-
tingly toward Fyodors faceIll show em toyou. Its
not far. Iknowonly, shhsecretly.
Fyodor clearly wanted tospend time with Mikhei,
so they decided to meet the following day, here,
bythebus stop, butforthetime being they dispersed
totheir burrows.
Thenext day Fyodor was waiting forMikhei right
ontime, huddled attheagreed-upon spot. Forthefirst
time inhis life, he had something like afriend.
Mikhei appeared in the distance; he was walking
drunkenly, scuffing one foot, buthis face was significant.
How about stopping bythechurch first? Mikhei
inquired ofhis friend.
Is there anything here toeat? Fyodor mumbled
mistrustfully.
Sure there is. This isnt some empty place we live
in, Mikhei mumbled, and he drew Fyodor cater-cor-
ner, into alane.
They were supposed togo see thesectarians late that
afternoon, butfirst they went toMikheis. His room was
nearly empty; aripped upbed was buried inthecorner
and there was herring and a book on a stool. Fyodor
137
and his unexpected friend chatted over tea. The steam

from theboiling water clouded around their faces. Fyodor
liked Mikhei more andmore. Hes subtle andalways float-
ing off, Sonnov thought. Invisibly somehow, Mikheis face
was turning red from thetea andhe andhis conscious-
ness really were floating off. Fyodor softened gloomily,
asifdrops offavor were dripping from his stern, stone-
hard soul. But he still looked savagely aloof, especially
when he stared outthewindow. Mikhei rose cautiously
and, smiling, gently touched Fyodors shoulder. You
wanted tokill me, butyou shunned theidea when Ispread
myself andshowed you. You have aheart.
Mikhei liked it alot when people shunned him; this
gave him great joy and independence. He had bared
his empty place to people more than once, admiring
himself andtheir disgust. This time, his baring had
saved his life. Mikhei liked recalling this so much that
he constantly grinned blissfully and sniggered. It oc-
curred to him to defend his life in this strange way
inthefuture, especially against robbers.
He felt so favorably disposed toward Fyodor
forwhat hed done that he considered theman akind
ofgod inandofhimself, though sometimes Mikhei af-
fectionately chided him.
Byevening, thefriends were very comfortable.
Mikhei told Fyodor about his bizarre relations
with the sect of eunuchs that had formed in great
secret inthis suburban village; it was why hed set-
tled here himself.
138
THE SUBLIMES
Mikhei had committed his maiming before he met

the eunuchs, independently, out of my very own
will anddesire. Asit happened, though, afat eunuch
with pop eyes had sniffed this out and decided that
Mikhei had done it out of philosophizing, in their
way. To be polite, Mikhei agreed with everything he
said and, without wanting to, had penetrated thesecret
eunuch sect, finding comfort there.
Mikhei himself regarded the sect ironically, con-
sidering theeunuchs not white doves, asthey called
themselves, butlittle sparrows; wiping thecrumbs from
his mouth, Mikhei lovingly called theLord orCreator
ofthe universe Master, butprivately believed that he
himself had no relationship totheCreator. This is how
he talked about the eunuch sectarians: They all rip
offtheir penis fortheMaster. ButIdid it onmy own.
I have my own special mystery that helps me decide
what to rip off and what to leave on. Still, he bore
theeunuchs no ill will, pitying them. Mikhei barely ac-
knowledged other people.
Fyodor was in luck. The eunuchs held Mikhei
in great trust for some reason, and hed previously
agreed to bring his old friend to the ritual, vouching
for him; Mikhei presented his friend as a spiritual
eunuch, that is, basically amember ofthesect, butfrom
another ship andanother direction.
Fyodors sinister and fierce look was not much
like thelook ofaspiritual eunuch orawhite dove,
but Mikhei lovingly combed Fyodors hair, trying
139
to make the obscurely cruel face look mellower, and,

after that, said hed pass.
That night, when the whole village was asleep,
Fyodor andMikhei were let through thegate ofafence
as tall as eternity, into the yard of a house whose
owner was the chief eunuch. A narrow path that
petered outfrom time totime led deep into agarden
andtoablack, hidden bathhouse. There, inapilfered
space with asmall, lonely window, their ecstatic rit-
uals took place.
Mikhei whispered with a man sprawled
outonthebench infront ofthebathhouse andintro-
duced Fyodor, who grinned andwhispered afew terms
Mikhei had given him.
Stooping, Mikhei andFyodor went inside. Theritual
turned out to be in full swing, so no one paid much
attention to them. In the corner, they saw Orthodox
icons, and between them, in the middle, the por-
trait ofthemost beloved father, thesecond coming
ofChrist, Kondraty Selivanov.
Theelder looked moved; inhis hand was asmall
white scarf; Kondraty seemed tobe admiring his little
children from thenext world and, ashe gazed upon
them with otherworldly eyes, his heart was gladdened.
Meanwhile, thesectariansthere were about seven
ofthemwere spinning stickily inplace; thegenitally
deprived parts of their bodies writhed; their white
shirts fluttered like shrouds; their yellow, sere faces,
illuminated by lifeless wax candles, crept up toward
140
THE SUBLIMES
theLord; sweat poured over their trembling skin, which

looked like it was peeling off; their eyes were popping
out of their orbits as they tried to catch Kondraty
Selivanovs beyond-the-grave look.
Someone shrieked, Im jumping, jumping, jumping.
Christ Im seeking, seeking, seeking!and he
jumped from corner to corner on all fours, tearing
through theemptiness.
Mikhei sat very quietly, onabench, hands folded,
with amellowly lecherous expression onhis face; they
were evidently used tohis quiet role. Sonnov sat next
to him, lifelessly turning his head from side to side.
Crawling near his feet was asoaking wet, convulsively
puckered old man with stern eyes.
Im crawling, crawling, crawling.
To the new Christ! he hissed angrily, dragging
himself across thefloor.
Outside, under the narrow window, a heavenly,
shrill, hysterical womans voice rang out:
Asit is inontheDon,
TheSavior himself comes,
With his angels
Andarchangels.
Thevoice fell still andatrembling woman, nearly

naked, who looked incinerated, crawled into thebath-
house; her breasts had been cut off, butyou could see
thedried up, blackish-red wound-scars.
141
Atfirst Fyodor looked dully atthose praying, then

suddenly everything vanished and his being seemed
to fill the entire bathhouse and even spill over, into
space, leaving no more room foranyone.
He didnt come tohis senses until it was all over.
Mikhei had put tea together somewhere inthehouse
andbrought it in, along with akiddie table, complete
with white tablecloth; all the tea-drinking appurte-
nances appeared, too: thesamovar, thecups.
The weary and sweaty but peace-loving eunuchs
placidly took their seats for tea. Fyodor alone said
nothing, which made everyone think about his own
inaccessibility.
Inthemorning, walking back down thehighway
with Mikhei, Sonnov hummed astern song tohimself
anindication ofhis good mood.
True, the eunuchs had made a rather pa-
thetic impression on him. Everything they held
in common, everything that united them, seemed
silly andchildish.
My own, Ihave tohave my own, Fyodor mumbled
faintly, kicking away trash ashe went.
He thought of Anna and Padov. Now those are
people That which was his own felt so vast andim-
mense, he had ahard time comparing it toanything.
Still, its better than completely ordinary ones
who go toschool, Mikhei murmured.
Well, were not even talking about those. Theyre
just mushrooms, Sonnov replied.
142
THE SUBLIMES
Anew day was dawning. Fyodor had taken astep

back from his killings. Butwhen he walked upidly
to old Ipatievnas lopsided little house, there was
ahuman figure inthewindow. It was Anatoly Padov.
143
IV
Themoment Padov arrived inMoscownearly amonth

beforeafter quitting Lebedinoye in order to replen-
ish his powers in the face of lifes horror, he rushed
tothecemetery near V, where theyd long known him.
Thegravediggers greeted Tolya with joyous, ghastly vis-
ceral shouts. He spent afew days with them, drinking,
helping dig graves, spending the nights in one shed
or another, if not in the church itself. The gravedig-
gerssimple, feebleminded fellows already touched
bydecayconsidered him arefugee. They really liked
it when he laughed while digging graves.
One night, Padov talked them into letting him
stay inthecellar with acorpse, ayoung, beatific girl
ofabout seventeen. Padov drank so much forjoy that
thenight wasnt quite uptostandard.
Still, he recited Bloks poetry from memory, bycan-
dlelight, over thedeceaseds face; he tickled her soles;
andhe peered into her eyes with amagnifying glass.
Inthemorning, thegirl was buried; Padov walked
behind the coffin and sobbed, so unbearable was his
inner laughter. Inaddition, he now thought hysterically
that it was this girl who would lead him totheElysian
Fields. Inthecoffin, thegirl really did look sexywith
mystical overtones, ofcourse. Attheend, he nearly got
into a fight with one homely, exceptional gravedigger
144
THE SUBLIMES
who, forsome reason, mistook all thedeceased forhim-

self. In his three years service, this gravedigger had
gone completely around thebend, thinking that he was
burying himself over andover. He didnt even under-
stand where he was now, or what state he was in,
since he believed that, with each new death, he left
fortheworld beyond thegrave andended upinthenext
world, toadegree approximately equal tothenumber
ofcorpse-selves hed buried.
Naturally, he thought himself incredibly distanced
from theworld.
But he took Padovs insolent and unprecedented
molestation ofthedead girl asareference tohimself.
(The gravedigger decided that Padov wanted to sleep
with him, the gravedigger, in the person of the de-
ceased.) Theresult was anincident. Thescandal was
just barely hushed up, actually, butit brought Padov
great joy andcalm.
To thoroughly restore his vitality, Padov began
taking trips to the slaughterhouse, where he made
friends with the butchers and put his mouth under
the warm, living blood of a carcass, drinking two
orthree mugs ofblood aday.
This calmed him alittle, butnot forlong. Thesoci-
ety ofhis soul andthepeople ofthat world tormented
Padov. He was afraid oflosing his mind.
Thats why he cast about, dropping byLebedinoye
and, not finding Fyodor, getting a note from Klava
andtheaddress ofthelittle nest.
145
Early one morning he turned upatthat little nest.

Ipatievna greeted him amicably and with kindness,
asifhe were her cat. When Fyodor arrived, Padov took
aclose look athim andwas horrified.
Fyodor recognized him immediately, drilling
through him with abastardly look.
Silently, he took Klavas note, unfolded it, saw her
scratchings, and, without undressing, still inhis pants,
collapsed onthebed.
Sometimes Fyodor liked tosleep dressed, asifhe liked
being alienated from his sleep. This time his body lay im-
mobile, buthis head kept turning, asifit were alive.
By the afternoon all three of themFyodor, Padov,
andIpatievnahad napped andgone outside todrink tea.
The little yard was uncomfortable and filthy
andexposed forall tosee; even thesky covered it deep
andwide, from edge toedge. Alonely plank outhouse
stood like a tower at the end of the yard. The grass
was dusty andsparse, asiftheground were balding;
a stripped gray cat skeleton lay in the middle of it,
like a discarded stick; a warped table nestled on its
side not far away.
Groaning, Ipatievna was thefirst tosit; shed drunk
her fill ofcats blood early inthemorning andnow was
content with some black bread. Sonnov ate inaself-con-
tained andvisceral way, ignoring everyone; Tolya smoked,
baring his teeth andrejoicing atthenice sun.
People have told me alot about you, Fyodor Ivanovich.
Especially Annushka, he said. Fyodor was silent.
146
THE SUBLIMES
Finally, through his teeth, he said, So, every-

things fine inLebedinoye.
Excellent, Padov replied, and he told him some-
thing quietly, cozily, and with a flash of inspiration.
Fyodor livened upalittle.
Well, is Klavushka jumping around like shes not
human orwhat? he muttered.
Idont know. Maybe just when shes alone. Tolya
smiled. Fyodor grunted with satisfaction, admiring
the word alone. Ipatievna looked at both of them
vigilantly, crazily, puckeredly, and as if through her
kerchief. Forgetting everything, shed come unbuttoned,
exposing her old woman flesh.
Well, but what about thosejokesters who were
slaughtering the dogs and birds, Fyodor asked, re-
calling Padov, Anna, the sun-drenched glade,
andthebloodletting there.
Ah!andPadov burst outlaughing. Thejokesters
burned out and each went his own way. Pyr got
the hell out and became ringleader of an ordinary
gang, sixteen-year-old kids wild from emptiness. They
knife people in back streets now. Just because Like
wolves Iogann wormed his way into amonastery; he
felt so sorry for the birdies and rats. And he turned
off. Hes praying forforgiveness, andatnight he prays
inthedark, not toGod, though, totherats he killed.
Only Igoryoks left. You know, that cunning little angel.
Hell be turning up in Lebedinoye soon. Hes learned
athing ortwo andisnt atotal joke now.
147
Fyodor blissfully contorted his mouth, frowned like

acat atwhat Padov said, andfinally got up.
Lets go forawalk, Tolya, he said, andhe hissed
atIpatievna tostay where she was andnot get up.
What a starer, Fyodor thought. Sit there and
suck your cats.
They went outside. Aquiet, calmed rain was falling.
People were hugging thewet fences. Fyodor jutted his
lower jaw out, asifhe had acold: catching raindrops.
Tolya saw that Fyodor noticed nothing around
him. But at the well, Fyodor stumbled, and suddenly
his glance froze onacluster ofpeople: women, maybe,
or maybe men, but totally ordinary. His eyes became
glassy, asifhed seen something otherworldly. Fyodor
spat andexchanged heavy glances with Padov.
Tolya sniggered and soon theyd concealed them-
selves inthetightly wrapped gloom ofabeer stand that
had darkness instead ofwindows.
Like outsiders, they sat in the corner, at a table
covered in corpselike secretions, and did not make
a sound. The discomfort of the place and the clouds,
aswell asthedarkness around, turned peoples close,
grinning faces white, asthey do intheback ofbeyond.
Fyodor looked gravely atTolya, buthis mind was
onMikhei andthefact that he hadnt killed him; Padov
began feeling alittle easier: thefact ofsomeone elses
burden lessened his own torment.
Fyodor idly narrowed his consciousness toanin-
adequate, dull, andsleepy beam; then his eye fell onthe
148
THE SUBLIMES
fat back ofaneffeminate little drunk looming nearby.

Fyodor made anabrupt movement ofhis hand, which
landed somewhere near the drunks neck, and before
the drunk knew what was happening, he collapsed
totheground, asifhed fallen asleep.
Padov was stunned by Fyodors movement: it ex-
actly imitated aknife blow.
Well, Imightve dispatched one more, Fyodor mut-
tered, turning toPadov.
Where? Under the wing of the Lord? Padov
screeched.
Fyodor nodded with satisfaction.
Tolya could not shake theimpression ofthat blow,
which he found horrific, forsome reason, andwhich
surreally reproduced aknife blow. Even areal knife
blow couldnt have been asreal, inits essence. Pavlov
linked this with Fyodors evident attitude toward
other beings.
Fyodor Ivanovich, could you kill? Padov asked
straight out.
Fyodor gave asudden shudder andstarted laughing.
Half-unconsciously, Padov took this for tacit
agreement.
He felt like testing Fyodor. Feverishly, in vivid,
surprising strokes, he drew forFyodor thecommonly
accepted picture of the first stages of life beyond
thegrave, focusing especially oninevitable, almost au-
tomatic retribution: retribution fortheevil committed
inthis life, particularly forkilling.
149
Vanity ofvanities, all that, Fyodor reacted indif-

ferently, chewing his noodles.
Padov squealed softly, ecstatic, buthe continued his
interrogation, though byearthly measure, Fyodor was
obviously not normal.
Youre not afraid ofretribution either! Padov ex-
claimed, smiling athis beer.
What retribution there? Fyodor grunted. And if
there is, what ofit? Lifes retribution asis.
But Padov was searching for complete understand-
ing; gradually, issuing abrupt, intuitive, mystically
explosive questions, he revealed apicture that made his
thoughts stand onendfrom ecstasy, naturally. It wasnt
hard totranslate Fyodors heavily slumbering language
andsilence into ordinary metaphysical language.
Padov discovered that, for Fyodor, killing prob-
ably symbolized soul-killing, though he seemed
to have his own way of believing in the next world;
buthere, forFyodor, killing evidently meant thekilling
ofthesoul, anattempt tocrack themystery.
Possibly, Padov thought, since Fyodor believed kill-
ing tooccur primarily inthespirit (albeit accompanied
byanordinary killing), he wasnt afraid ofanything
andhadnt given any thought toempirical posthumous
retribution; spiritual retribution, which he ignored,
was already part of Fyodors present state, so other-
worldly andincomprehensible, butinternally real were
the spiritual goals he was moving toward, without
fixing onminor details.
150
THE SUBLIMES
Padov was ecstatic to see that Fyodor wasnt

frightened by something empirically beyond-the-grave
because theotherworldly lay ontheother side ofour
consciousness, not life. Besides, tosome degree, Fyodor
was otherworldly totheotherworldly itself.
This was even more genuine andmore magnificent;
Padov felt that Fyodor was one ofthem, that his dark
confoundment was ofthehighest quality, asAnna put
it; he sensed with awe that Fyodor himself was that
horror and, before him, all thehorrors ofposthumous
everyday life were trivial, especially this worlds lamen-
tations andretributions.
Why should Horror fear petty horrors? Padov
thought.
Sometimes he felt aforeboding that Fyodor had set
himself against theworld order.
Finally, inafrenzy, retreating inward, both ofthem
Padov andFyodorstarted fortheexit andthestreet.
They left spots oftheir thoughts, desires, andpassions
onthebeer stands walls. Thelacerated, exhausted in-
valid crawled behind them all the way to the door.
Then, thesudden sun struck them intheface, asifit
were asinister, rather than kindly portent.
A question began spinning in Padovs mind: Had
Fyodor killed inreality, that is, inregular life?
Mystically, in his secret depths, he was sure
theanswer was yes, buthe didnt allow that thought
into his human, external consciousness. Ultimately, he
felt that these yeses andnoes werent that important,
151
forinFyodor he saw, above all, ametaphysical killer

whose goal was topush people andall humanity com-
pletely out of his consciousness and render the very
idea ofother peoples existence empty. Just asanor-
dinary killer ousts people from the outside world,
so Fyodor ousted people from his soul. Andwhether
or not this metaphysical ousting involved an ordi-
nary, parallel killing, Padov thought, didnt change
theessence ofthematter.
Are you going to Lebedinoye? Padov suddenly
asked Fyodor.
Fyodor mumbled. Butwhen they were atthehouse,
atIpatievnas, andthelittle boy who kept her incats
crawled outfrom under thebed, it became clear that
Fyodor would go to Lebedinoye. He said this as he
sat onastool, looking atthefloor with his eyes very
wide open.
But Padov was drawn to Moscow, to the vortex,
to his friends, to his familiar mysticism, and then
definitelyto Lebedinoye. He wanted to accommodate
both Fyodor and the old in his mind. Ill go see
Remin, he decided.
Bowing toIpatievna, who had been silent intheemp-
tiness, Padov disappeared.
152
V
Gennady Remin belonged to the same generation

asPadov. He was considered one ofthebest underground
poets, but some of his poem cycles never reached his
unbridled admirers; someHis: ACorpse Lyric, forin-
stancehe kept inadrawer without showing anyone.
Through Glubevs disciples, he had encountered
the religion of I and his soul caught fire. He had
adeep sense ofcertain theoretical nuances within this
underground metaphysics.
He was enraptured, forinstance, bythenew religions
main tenet that the object of worship, love, and faith
should be the believers own I. However, this I re-
ferred, above all, toanimmortal, eternal principle, like
thespirit. Inthis way, theIwas theabsolute andtran-
scendent reality. Atthesame time, it was thebelievers
personal I, now realized spiritually. Consequently, ones
being asaperson was understood merely asamoment
inones own eternal objective reality.
The second principle that especially appealed
to Remin was this: at all stages of existence, ones
own I remained the sole reality and highest value.
(Therefore, theconcept ofGod asdistinct from theIre-
ality lost its meaning in this religion.) On the other
hand, all forms of the selfs objective reality (forms
connected to the supreme I by a single thread) had
153
value, assuming love for them didnt contradict love

forthesupreme I.
In this way, these teachings turned out to be,
insome points, close tosolipsism, butafairly special
kind; not theordinary solipsism. Mystical, infinite love
for Oneself had tremendous significance. Superhuman
narcissism was one ofthechief principles (andclearly
ananalog ofthat profoundest love ofGod forHimself,
ofwhich themedieval mystics spoke).
Aspecific type ofmeditation andprayer was directed
toward the supreme I, i.e., essentially toward the oth-
erworldly reality, which was simultaneously ones own
I(orits highest form) inherent inthegiven moment.
Consequently, this wasnt a religion of egoism
(egoism being abetrayal ofthesupreme I) orareligion
that deified man ortheindividual (since thesupreme
I, as a transcendental beyond, transcended the circle
ofhuman existence). However, this religion (orrather,
metaphysics) did not correspond toany teachings based
ontheidea ofGod, including thevariation that led one
tounderstand thesupreme Ithrough God; for, inthat
case, only that side oftheIidentical toGod was made
absolute, whereas the religion of I connected with
aspecial type ofsolipsism andwent much further.
Remin believed that many organic tenets of this
metaphysics were close totheprofound essence ofhis
soul. He felt that hed finally found something genu-
ine forhimself buthe couldnt be init forlong. He
couldnt withstand thefull abyss ofthis faith; he was
154
THE SUBLIMES
tormented byvarious doubts andfears; he would lapse

into hysterics and, ultimately, inwardly, he moved away
from thereligion ofI andinto themetaphysical mad-
ness so dear toAnatoly Padovs heart.
Having returned to Moscow after seeing Fyodor,
Padov started looking for Remin. He wanted to take
him toLebedinoye.
Tolya spent the night in his gloomy and narrow
Moscow room, where Pinyushkinastrange being, so
afraid ofhimself that he was repeatedly drawn upward,
to the roofhad peeked through the windows more
than once as he shinnied up adrainpipe. Tolya woke
upearly inthemorning: inthemysterious, half-morn-
ing darkness that was about to explode, the lights
inthewindows ofthebig apartment houses were spon-
taneous and unexpected, like spirits. The post-sleep
cold ofresurrection pricked Padovs consciousness.
Slightly incomprehensible even tohimself, he went
outside, suddenly hoping tosee Remin intheearliest
Moscow beer stand onGruzinskaya Street.
Approaching, he peeked into the murky but un-
usually wide windows and saw it was nearly empty.
Butatone table, right there bythewindow, amid arag-
gedy and clamorous company that looked like it was
bursting toward the ceiling, Padov saw Remin sitting
with his elbows onthetable andhis poetic, drink-satu-
rated head resting onhis hand. Theothers were vaguely
unfamiliar toPadov: four itinerant philosophers who,
along with their admirers, had formed aspecial closed
155
circle in Moscows underground. They looked crushed

and crumpled, their movements angular, not of this
world, but their common facial expression was unbri-
dledly transcendental.
Written baldly onone little face was anunearthly in-
solence, asifnothing material existed forthis guy. He was
constantly spitting into his mug ofbeer. Forsome reason,
they called him byawomans name, Tanya, and, though
one got thecreeping impression that he was constantly
bombarded byinvisible butweighty forces, he was hyster-
ically insolent toward everything earthlydarkly mad.
Another philosopherYurawas quite fat and
turbid, atranscendently vomitous pig with anascetics
slightly watery eyes; not only that, he kept thinking he
was just about tobe knifed.
The thirdVityawas really god-knows-what: all
thepoints ofhis face jutted out, buthis soul was, ines-
sence, puckered.
People saidinawhisper, inall themystical-sew-
ery corners of Moscowthat Vitya wasnt the only
one whod grasped the thoughts of the Supreme
Hierarchies, but he hadnt withstood their weight
andhad run amok.
Thefourth philosopher was nearly invisible.
Meanwhile Tolya ran into the beer stand with
ajoyous shout.
Yura was just winding up a speech about
theAbsolute.
Gentlemen, weve been betrayed! Padov shouted.
156
THE SUBLIMES
Who by?
TheAbsolute. Ijust found out.
Thefriends exchanged kisses. Remin actually hung
onPadovs neck. Tanya even squealed with delight: he
loved metaphysical gossip.
Tolya sat down beside them.
Puckered Vitya looked athim with inspiredly covert
eyes; afew times he mumbled something andthen bent
over, hissing, andfell under thetable. Thenearly invis-
ible one took this asasign.
Are you full oflonging andvodka, Gena? Padov
began.
Remin looked ateverything around him with eyes
lucidly pure from alcohol.
Thecorpses, oh, thecorpses

Want toscold me with curses,
Andmy mother, onthewall,
Will smile onthem all.
Remin sang, shooting aglance totheside.

TheAbsolute has aheavy hand, though, Yura said,
nervously checking onthecloud outside. Its Power lies
inthefact that no one sees It, but, ontheother hand,
they know what It feels like.
Ablack monk inaquilted vest

Is sitting atatable, blind,
Achild screams nearby, bereft,
157
Leftjust inside thedoorbehind.

Ido not want toguess atall.
When Im going todie
Remin continued.
You know, youre thedrunkest ofall, Padov inter-
rupted him. You dont blend inwith thephilosophers
atall. Lets go, we need totalk.
Puckered Vitya crawled out from under the table
andgave everyone astern look.
Padov said goodbye to the itinerants and led his
friend outside, into asmall garden; before long, Remin
was feeling better.
After awhile they found themselves atafriends,
in a gray, unused room, beyond whichfrom the bal-
conythey could see a receding, tattered expanse.
Theres good reason distance and space became
the Russian Spirits alternate reality long ago, Padov
thought. They walked into the room without asking:
it was meant tobe open always fortheunderground.
The occupant was sleeping on the couch. He spent
nearly all his time asleep, quietly gesticulating as he
dreamt. You could drink vodka onhis back. His mouth
hung half-open, as if a hallucination emanating from
his dream had put its finger inthere.
Padov told Remin about Lebedinoye in inspired
spurts. Gena, gratified bywhat Padov said about Fyodor
andKlavusha, fell asleep onPadovs chest.
Thenext morning they decided togo tothenest.
158
VI
Soon after, all hell broke loose inLebedinoye.

Theyve come, theyve cometheyve come! little
Mila shouted loudly, andshe clapped, looking straight
ahead with unintelligible eyes.
Indeed, besides its owners, the cock-corpse,
andAnnushka, Lebedinoye now also had Padov, Remin,
andthelittle angel Igoryok, one ofthesadists. Mad and
fluttery, just like theyoung Mozart, he rushed around
theyard, ready toembrace andbite everything alive.
Anna watched her child with a benevolent smile.
Klavenka was nearby, too. The thing was that theyd
decided to celebrate the cock-corpses appearance.
Bynow, everyone realized that Andrei Nikitich himself
had died long ago, butinstead ofdying normally, hed
become anew beingthecock-corpse. It was thebirth
of this new being that theyd gathered to commemo-
rate in Lebedinoye. The celebrations culprit himself
looked unnaturally rabid and overwrought, but very
dead, all tohis utmost, asifhe were tossing andturn-
ing inawalking coffin.
Thinking himself in the next world, evidently,
thecock-corpse started misbehaving, asifdeath gave him
carte-blanche. He tugged old man Kolya bythepenis,
called him his dearly deceased, andstuck his tongue
outatthesparrows.
159
Wherever death is, youll find truth, Klavusha

said, moved bylooking athim.
Theyd spread out a black blanket in the middle
oftheyard, intending tocelebrate around it. Everyone
gathered around, even little Mila. Only Petenka wanted
tosleep; he wandered from corner tocorner and, press-
ing his hands tohis chest, he sang, Rock-a-bye, baby
Buthe wasnt holding anything andRemin was horri-
fied toguess that Petenka was singing himself alullaby.
Rock-a-bye, baby Intheend, Petenka curled upbeside
thefence and, humming himself thelullaby, dozed off.
The cock-corpse was sitting in the shed, peering
outatthecelebration unnaturally, through acrack.
After theabundant food, many were drawn to lan-
guor and reminiscences. They prayed for the husband
of dearly departed Lidochka, the unforgettable Pasha
Krasnorukov, whod scalded his own penis because he
hated children so much. He was now serving a long
prison term, buthad settled inquite nicely there.
Themain thing forhim was that there be no chil-
dren, Klavusha interjected, sighing. And what kind
ofchildren are there inprison? So they say hes beside
himself with joy there, Pasha. No ones ever seen him
that happy anywhere.
He climbs poles with a naked penis, old man
Kolya corrected her glumly. Butontheother hand he
really is happy. Hes yet tocome across asingle child
there. All in all, he says, its more beauteous there
inprison than atliberty.
160
THE SUBLIMES
Darkness was gathering. The cock-corpses eye

became even more unnatural and gleamed invisibly
through thecrack.
Suddenly, Klavusha rose to her full height. Her
full, bearish figure loomed over everyone sprawled
onthegrass. She held aglass ofvodka.
All right now, she said inadeep voice. Thats
enough drinking for the departed Andrei Nikitich.
Lets drink tothosewere going tobecome!
Wound up and excited, everyone jumped up as
iftheyd been stung.
Hah, scared you, Klavusha sighed deeply and,
moving alittle totheside, shook her wet hair.
Klavenka, I wont, I wont! Igoryok the sadist
shrieked.
Old man Kolya jumped upandran fortheax. Little
Mila understood nothing.
ButPadov andRemin, swaying, chimed inecstati-
cally: Shes one ofus
Before she knew it, Annushka was standing next
toKlavusha.
All right thenIll drink to my future embodi-
ment, she murmured, bowing gently. Totheunearthly
snake! And she pressed up as hard as she could
toKlavas sweaty andloose belly.
Igoryok crawled over to Klavushas feet and
lifted his angelic, blond, little face: To a midge!
Ill drink to a midge! he mumbled, and his eyes
turned black.
161
Klavusha stood there magnificently, like an oth-

erworldly Cleopatra. The only thing missing was
forIgoryok tokiss her toes.
All ofasudden they heard astrange, incredible wail
andbreaking boards. Outoftheshed dashed thecock-
corpse holding ahuge beam.
Ill drive him out, I will! he howled, but so ab-
surdly that no one knew how toget outofhis way.
Igoryok darted behind alog.
Meanwhile, there was obvious and terrible suffer-
ing written on the cock-corpses face, but there was
thesense that he found thereason forit completely in-
comprehensible. He was totally split offfrom those he
wanted todrive out, unless he meant some other beings
he could see among those gathered forthecelebration.
Casting thebeam aside, his eyes bulging with half-
tears that wouldnt fall, he waved his arms around,
standing inplace.
This suffering, wedded tohis total detachment from
any outward cause of his agony, made an especially
awful anddevastating impression.
Everyone tried not tolook.
Klavusha, ass swaying, went around the corner
ofthehouse tothewater barrel. Soon after, theothers
found themselves offtotheside andthecock-corpse
suddenly fell silent, asifalittle door inhis mind had
slammed shut.
Dead silence, interrupted bybirds timid chirping,
reigned inthegathering darkness.
162
THE SUBLIMES
Only old man Kolya, whod run away even before

the cock-corpse jumped out of the shed, was dancing
infront ofthewindow tohis room.
When theyd all dispersed totheir burrows tosleep,
only Igoryok thesadist stopped Klava shyly onthepath.
Wishing topour outhis soul, he clung tothespace
around her body andquietly whispered, Its true that
the most hateful thing in life is happiness, isnt it?
People should declare a campaign against happiness.
Then theyll see new worlds.
Igoryok lifted his arm in front of good-natured
Klava, turned pale, andvanished.
Offtohis obscurity, Klava thought.
163
VII
Meanwhile, Padov and Annulya locked themselves

into acertain room. After alittle tea, they began dis-
cussing theotherworldly. Annushka was mad about
giving herself tomen distinguished bythemost in-
sane notions about the world beyond the grave.
In this regard, Padov could give anyone a hun-
dred-point handicap.
Butright now he was inadarkly weak, gentle con-
dition stemming from adesire tosteady himself after
theLebedinoye celebration. First, he plunged Annushka
into a comfortable, cozy little world of purely infan-
tile notions of the future life. Relaxed, wearing his
nightshirt, serene, Padov wandered around the room
intoning, Ill have some tea, Annulya. Ill have some
tea and, after that, Ill remember again Imight die
AndIwont understand andthat will be either sweet
orunbearably frightening.
This was exactly the right moment to surrender,
so Padov and Annushka coupled, a little hysterically,
buttenderly.
Annulya gave herself ashake andthen daydreamed
inthelittle bed, next toPadov.
But now, for some reason, they craved madness
andinsanity, asiftheir thoughts had separated from
thebodys bliss.
164
THE SUBLIMES
Tolya set thetone.

He especially stressed that nothing in the next
world would be like it was in the teachings about it.
Instinctive clairvoyance, dedication, andtheteachings,
he said, all covered only a pitiful part of the other-
worldly, and people, he said, were wrong about even
that part, more than likely. Its inevitable, Padov snig-
gered. After all, ifpeople are wrong about this world so
often, what can we expect about others?
Anna squealed ecstatically. This view helped them
instill theotherworldly with even more fog andnight-
mares than there was ineven thegloomiest andmost
cruelly alienated teachings.
Inthis state ofmind, pressed upclose, stroking each
others gentle bodies, insemi-sweetness, they loved dig-
ging around inthelittle details ofotherworldly worlds,
developing individual known propositions orremaking
everything according totheir own intuition.
When he went into ecstasy, Tolya even took alittle
jump, mentally copulating with theSupreme Hierarchies,
andAnnulya exclaimed, Madness, madness!
They were magnificent inthat little bed, when they
poked their naked bodies out from under the blanket
andshouted ateach other, Madness, madness!
Once theyd calmed down, they reignited their
imaginations, trying to imagine what they would
look like there, what they would think about, what
their consciousness would be like; zealously inclining
away from a simple understanding of posthumous
165
life as a more or less ordinary continuation of this

one (in another form), they imagined themselves ul-
timately transformed into inhuman beings living God
knows where andGod knows how, having lost all ties
with the here and now. They tried to penetrate how
theyinthehere andnow, genuinemight be com-
pletely different, how they would cease to be while,
atthesame time, they would be.
Later, mentally returning toearth, squealing, kiss-
ing each other insecret fear, they tried toanticipate all
thenuances oftheir condition during their transition
from this world.
Annulya pictured herself after death, when
consciousness returned for the first time and, in-
visible to the living, she could still see this world,
butasaworld ofshadows; forsome reason, she felt
convulsively sorry forher own corpse, which she could
see from thenext world.
Ill adorn it with flowers from beyond thegrave;
orIll ride it, invisibly; onward, onwardinto thevast-
nesses, she murmured into Tolyas ear.
Tolya twitched andhissed that his long-held dream
was to copulate with his own corpse and that, even
now, he could feel thewarm coldness ofthat act.
After this, Padov andAnna coupled afew more times.
Inthemorning, inthedeep andsoft rays ofaslug-
gish andnonwarming sun, they looked tired anddissolute.
Wishing toplease his masters, Igoryok served them
coffee inbed.
166
THE SUBLIMES
But Tolya, who, after his madnesses and flights,

liked to sink into a viscous and opaque marasm, lay
there without pulling his penis out of Annas body
anddozed, sipping his coffee.
He spent theentire day inakind ofviscosity.
Toward evening, visions began pursuing Padov.
Even the Sonnov house itself, with its sheds, schizo-
phrenic corners, andtranscendentally sewery cut-holes,
helped theinvisibles appear. Besides, everyone (inthe
late afternoon!) gathered, forsome reason, tohunt mush-
rooms inthewoods, leaving Padov alone inthehouse.
Atfirst, he thought someone would suddenly rush
outfrom some corner not aperson butasomething,
oratbest anapparition from thenext world.
Buthe tried tobind space tohis consciousness.
And he started seeing something completely
inhuman that hed nonetheless had asecret presenti-
ment ofinhis soul.
At first, an underground of otherworldliness
dimly showed through; then beings, its inhabitants,
began appearing.
First to appear was a type that was allowed
to squeak once in a million years, but not for more
than aminute; all therest ofthetime between those
squeaks, it was in total nonbeing. This darkly mad
fatty appeared for its one and only minute; none-
theless, it behaved unusually significantly and even
pompously. Evidently it held fast toits right tosqueak
andtreasured it intheextreme.
167
Achain ofother visions, one odder than thenext,

passed before him.
Toward the end, it seemed to Tolya that he was
seeing thebeing from theworld that lies beyond
the finite world of all religions and occult-mystical
discoveries.
Screeching, Enough! Tolya jumped out of bed
andstarted shouting. Everything dispersed tothesecret
corners ofreality. Butaterrible, thunderous pounding
atthegates came from outside.
Wound up by this abrupt transition from
thecovert tothevisible world, Tolya staggered toward
thepounding.
He opened thegates totheSonnov house andsaw
adrunken peasant, andbehind himashyly smiling
Evgeny Izvitsky.
Now this is a meeting! How did you find
Lebedinoye? Padov exclaimed, embracing his friend.
Thelittle peasant kissed atree anddisappeared.
Oh, Annulya secretly wrote a little letter here,
Izvitsky said, abashed, shooting sharp looks atPadov.
Giving him no time to recover, Padov led him
totherooms, pointing outthecorners where hed just
seen theinvisibles.
Izvitsky huddled up; he was a pudgy man with
a tousled head, about the same height as Padov; his
eyes burned with aninner, mystical, and, atthesame
time, sexual fire; theskin onhis face was soft, butnot
femininesoft inits own, special way.
168
THE SUBLIMES
With Padov andRemin, he formed arather unique

triangle. People said that, like Remin, he had, at one
time, some connection tothereligion ofI.
Soon after, thetravelers returned from their mush-
room hunting, all except Anna, whod gone toMoscow
fortheday. Thelights went onintheSonnov-Fomichev
house, asifspirits now stirred inthedarkness.
Little Mila hid her mushrooms inachamber pot;
Petenkas turbid and covert eyes watched Izvitsky
through a crack. Even the cock-corpse brought back
one mushroom. But Izvitsky wasnt feeling well. He
craved turning inward, into his soul, oratleast con-
tact with Padov and Remin. Even Klavusha didnt
surprise him very much.
Better your own louse than theGifts from onhigh,
he kept mumbling tohimself, andhe moved off.
Hes slipping away. Zhenichkas slipping away from
us, Remin intoned.
Foralong time, none ofthem seemed able tocon-
nect andthey staggered from side toside, asifforsaken.
Inhis corner, Gena knocked back apoetic quar-
ter-liter. Then Tolya whispered something and sat
down with him.
Meanwhile, anoutrageous rumor about Izvitsky,
complete with moans under apartment houses, was
circulating inMoscow. They said Zhenya was mixed
upinaterrible story, wild andfanatic, possibly having
to do with a devil cult. Others believed this expla-
nation profane, though, andtalked about anegative,
169
monstrous path to God that passed through blas-

phemy aswell.
But one little old lady, Zhenyas neighbor, had
a vision of an angel after a conversation with him,
and, according toher, theangel winked ather andsaid
there would be no salvation.
Rumors popped up in an absurdly metaphys-
ical cluster, with the inevitable Russian holy fool
overtones, and people were already asserting that
the sick, half-dead cat noticed around Zhenya more
than once was the spirit incarnate of the Marquis
de Sade. One very young person began toworship it
andkneeled before it.
Imaginations were wound so tight that, accord-
ing totherumors, astrange girl ofeleven ortwelve,
who Izvitsky frequently fondled andsingled out, had
apart inthestory.
People recalled that Izvitsky had said more than
once that this little girl was filled with light.
Andit was true. Toacertain degree, thelittle girl
really did glow: her pale face, with its slightly jutting
jaw and rotten teeth, seemed illuminated by light-
ning-leaping inspiration, andtheeyes inher beaming,
inspired face seemed topop outoftheir orbits when she
rejoiced attheInvisible andher own thoughts.
People said that, spiritually, she constantly re-
volved around herself andshe had been given much.
Be that asit may, no one knew thestory exactly,
oreven very approximately.
170
THE SUBLIMES
Everything may have happened differently, orwith

a different subtext. But the little self-loving, holy-fool
rumors grew and spread to the most secret, cellar-
ly-metaphysical corners ofMoscow.
Such was thetalk about Izvitsky.
Finally, when all the other Sonnov inhabitants
had gone to sleep, the friendsRemin, Izvitsky,
and Padovcast aside the raving of awkwardness
and gathered on the second floor, in a tucked-away
room with ahalf-blocked window.
Only acandle lit their faces.
Compared to his friends, Izvitsky was outwardly
soft andgentle. Padov laughed atthespots onthewalls.
Remin snuggled up in an armchair, rocking
tothebeat ofhis thoughts. Agreen, clandestine vodka
bottle had rolled into acorner.
Their discussionor rather, their touching
ofsoulsshifted from thefailures intheir raving, ex-
panding relations tomysticism.
Theair was black from their exploding, then de-
caying thoughts.
Having had a taste of life beyond the grave,
Izvitsky now stressed thelaughter oftheAbsolute
it was anextraordinary quality, iftheAbsolute had
its own laughter. Savage it is (thelaughter) andun-
attainable, he said, because its not in contrast
to anyone and the reason for it, naturally, lies not
inany discord with reality, butinthat which is un-
known tous.
171
A hysterical little laugh passed down Padovs

throat; he thought he could see thelaughters ends.
Thethree men sat far apart indilapidated armchairs,
buteach had aglass ofvodka athandforthequiet.
Remin poured fat on the fire and raised a stink
from his corner about the life of the Supreme
Hierarchies, claiming that, compared with them, any
spiritual human achievement is like arats squeak com-
pared with Dostoevsky, andit wouldnt be abad idea
tosnatch, oratleast vaguely imagine something from
them when one tried tomake theleap from theSpirit
totheunknown plane.
Padov was especially affected by this reminder.
Whats there fordumb clucks like us? he mumbled
tearily.
Butthen he got angry.
And although Remin was still going on about
theneed tobreak away into post-human forms ofcon-
sciousness, thethought ofthedistance totheUnknown
stung both Padov and Izvitsky, even throwing them
into avisceral logical negativism.
Butmaybe were theonly ones thewhole Absolute
is moving in even now, Izvitsky suddenly sniggered
from his corner.
He choked; everyone really did want to embody
theabsolute right away, toincorporate it now, intheir
present-day guise, otherwise their here andnow state
andhere andnow thoughts lost too much value. Padov
actually trembled at his impatient love for himself.
172
THE SUBLIMES
Buteven before, Izvitsky had, forgood reason, sought

theworlds back door, away leading tothesupreme, by-
passing all hierarchical degrees.
Finally, after a gloomy silence, Izvitsky began
talking about aparadoxical path.
He sketched out a world where one could arrive
at the transcendental through negativism, negation,
a world in which the positive had been destroyed
and everything stinkingly negative had, on the con-
trary, become affirming.
Inthis world, orrather, antiworld, everything neg-
ative andevil was given vital life; even oblivion itself
existed there; it was asifthereverse ofour world sud-
denly achieved independence and the ordinary world
ofthepositive was inverted andvanishing.
All this found a soul-warming response in Padov
andRemin, ofcourse, butIzvitsky wasnt really look-
ing forfellow travelers.
Therefore theconversation shifted (asiftheir souls
were casting about) andtook another turn.
First, lightlyjeeringthey touched upon a few
odd, even comic moments inposthumous transmigra-
tion. Then, after theyd had a good laugh and were
fired up, they mentioned the sect of the Devils sal-
vationandthen suddenly moved ontotheteachings
ofSophia Perennis.
Coldness and transcendental calm immediately
came over them alland then onto the incarna-
tion of Logos, onto the Vedas, Sufis, and Hinduism,
173
everything sprinkled with grains of immortality.

Andonto thegaping abyss oftheAbsolute andHis Holy
Darkness, onthefar side ofany being.
Finally, after an unexpected fit of hysterics, onto
what should never be discussed.
Dont, dont go into that. Well perish! Remin ex-
claimed inhorror.
Everything subsided inakind oftension. There was
no going any further. Thediscussion came toahalt.
There you have it. Russian esotericism over
vodka! someone said intheend.
174
VIII
The next morning, after Anna arrived, the gate

totheSonnov residence opened andtwo absurd, strange
figures appeared intheyard. One was leading theother
bythearm. Theformer was Fyodor Sonnov; thelatter,
Mikhei, who liked being shunned. Slowly, as if sniff-
ing it out, they walked all theway around thehouse.
Klavusha greeted them through anopen window, slowly
waving her brush. First torun outtotheguests was
old man Kolya; shrill and thin, with fixed, bulging
eyes, he waved a rag at Mikhei. Mikhei stood there
humbly, smiling with enlightenment into Kolyas face.
Fyodor suddenly collapsed on the grass like a hog
andit was strange tosee his awful, half-dead figure
lying on the ground, like an ordinary hog marked
outbynature.
Theother inhabitants began drifting outofthe house.
Even the sun, which shone fiercely and inexhaustibly
now, looked black, asifthesun had intellect. No one was
even getting ready forbreakfast; they were all absorbed
inthemselves andtheir own rotten thoughts.
Fyodor didnt even pay any attention toAnnushka,
who was so spaced out, she wouldnt have minded
flirting with him.
Only through our death do I touch a woman,
he snarled inher face, andhe started from thehouse
175
toward the Lebedinoye cemetery, where Lidochkas

grave had been orphaned.
There, in solitude, Fyodor danced around her
grave for a long timeif you could call what he was
uptodancing. He jutted his lips outattheinvisible.
That afternoon, Alyosha Khristoforov turned up,
completely exhausted andwithdrawn.
The cock-corpse barely poked his head out; all
anyone could see was his incomprehensible shadow.
Alyosha was still convinced it was good for his
father hereatleast physically. Ifthere was tobe any
treatment, Khristoforov decided, then theonly formal
place for him was an insane asylum. But knowing
the procedures there and all the rest, Alyosha dis-
carded that thought; all he could do was wait. Forthis
reason, Khristoforov was thinking only about getting
away from here totake care ofurgent business.
He prayed hard to dismiss the blackness and no
one came up to him directly, either. His main ridi-
culer, Padov, was so removed from theoutside world
just then that hed frozen stock-still with a glass
ofvodka athis mouth.
After returning from the grave, Fyodor walked
around Alyosha asifhe didnt exist.
Outside the Sonnov gate, a nurse crawled
out of the burdock and felt up Khristoforov, trying
to take off his pants. Slipping away, Alyosha admit-
ted, You know, thats thesame nurse who treated my
papa. Klavdia Ivanovna was right insaying she liked
176
THE SUBLIMES
tosleep intheburdock. ButAnnushka also said that

was anexaggeration.
Asiftokeep his thoughts outside thefence, adeep
part-shout, part-wail ofPapa rang out, sounding more
like atrumpet than ahuman being.
Following his instinct for the incomprehensible,
Alyosha wandered back into theSonnov yard, skirting
around ontheother side. He didnt forget towhisper
something biblical.
There was no one left intheyard except Mikhei,
whod fallen asleep byalog. Thefilthy cat was trying
to lick his empty place. Alyosha walked past this
scene andwent deep inside, through thehouses wide
open door. Onthestairs, he heard voices coming from
thenearest room.
He made outAnnas harsh, triumphant, spiritu-
ally visceral voice.
Alyosha went downstairs andinto theyard.
Thefilthy cat wasnt around Mikheis empty place
anymore. Nearby, his face altered, blond Igoryok was
crawling into the shed to see the cock-corpseto be
not-human. As Alyosha left the Sonnov residence,
thelast thing he saw was thefixed stare ofPetenka,
whod stopped singing to himself. Avoiding the ditch
the sister of mercy was already climbing out of,
Khristoforov started running toward thetrain station.
177
IX
Meanwhile, Petenka was no longer scraping just his

pimples and herpes; he was actually eating himself.
Going deeper anddeeper, eating more andmore every
day. Even he couldnt understand why he lived like
that, though there was probably areasonandits name
was his extreme mistrust for the outside world, from
which Petya disdained accepting even sustenance.
Petenka treated theworld with contempt, assome-
thing infinitely insulting and boorish, and was
prepared to tear himself to pieces rather than take
anything substantive from theworld. Forhim, doing
so was tantamount to religious or, rather, existen-
tial suicide. Even agentle spring breeze put Petenka
onhis guard ifhe noticed it.
Usually he tried not to notice anything, exist-
ing in himself as in a cradle; he perceived even food
asmerely something that came from thedarkness, solid
andinedible. Andso he ate himself. Atfirst, this was
simply a necessity, but lately hed started to derive
aconvulsive, stinking, andconvincing pleasure. So he
moved onfrom scraping tomore direct self-devouring.
Inhis own eyes, this made him more real, asifhe were
plunging into his own abyss-cradle.
In connection with this shiftone night, when
the wind was howling, a wind Petenka did not
178
THE SUBLIMES
perceivehe developed an especially fierce desire

tosink his teeth into himself. Bending over, he fell
on his leg and took a bite; blood gushed for a long
time inawarm stream over his deadened lips, andit
seemed to him that hed hidden completely, that
even theusual darkness no longer surrounded him.
Deeper, deeper, he whispered to his lips and his
gushing blood.
These acts buried him once and for all. While
strange mysteries played out in the Sonnov yard,
Petenka stopped wherever he happened to be and fell
on himself, like an epileptic in his sleep. But no one
noticed his condition somehow. Just little Mila would
sometimes bump into him when he was all contorted,
but, though she could see, she saw nothing.
Petenkas pale face became completely distorted.
He only breathed into his blood. All torn up, he
staggered from corner to corner, no longer present.
But he wanted to go deeper, inside, and thats where
he was going. The situation was obviously heading
toward death, which he associated with his last swallow.
One morning, afew days after Fyodor andMikhei
showed upatthenest, Petenka arose with thefirm in-
tention ofeating himself up, not that he had aclear idea
ofhow hed do it: whether hed start bycutting offbody
parts andgobbling them upwith dead desire, orstart
with themain thing all atonce, fall onhis most criti-
cal artery, andsink his teeth into it, asifswallowing
himself, andthereby end his life.
179
Buthe was too weak from his previous self-devour-

ing; his head was spinning andhis hands were shaking.
Frowning, he looked outthewindow atthetall trees
and, for an instant, saw them, though he usually
didnt really see anything. He moved thecurtain aside
and suddenly, instead of wounding and eating him-
self bygnawing onhis body, he fell down andstarted
licking, licking himself, sticking out his tongue like
adying witch andlicking theseemingly most inacces-
sible andintimately lifeless places.
His eyes suddenly turned white as snow and he
seemed tobecome nothing butthis big red tongue lick-
ing his body andhis blank white eyes, into which this
body dissolved.
Sometimes, just atthenape ofhis neck, he heard
unprecedented song coming from inside himself,
or, rather, the song of an unprecedented joynot
theusual earthly orheavenly joy, butanabsolutely ex-
tra-human, dead, andotherworldly joy.
Petenka licked his shoulder andgave uptheghost.
His body was discovered atnoon.
Petenkas death immediately cast a spell over ev-
eryone. Old man Kolya slipped upatree and, foralong
time, watched from there with empty eyes. Little Mila
became lost in thought. At shouts of, Death, death!
Klavusha rushed outside inher apron, holding adish-
rag. She seemed eager towipe Petenkas forehead todrive
away his ghost. The guestsPadov, Anna, and their
ilkstirred, as well, feeling something they could
180
THE SUBLIMES
relate to. Fyodor alone genuinely envied Petenka. Hed

envied Petka when he was alive, sucking the pimples
offhimself, andhe especially envied Petka now that he
had died. He alone truly understood that Petenka had
eaten himself up. Petenka will go far, very farinthat
world, Fyodor muttered, with foam athis mouth. This
isnt like killing other people. Petya gave birth tohim-
self. Fyodor detached himself from everyone andstood
inacorner behind atree, mechanically andgloomily
biting offits bark.
Mikhei prowled around the body, as if opening
thescar-eye ofhis empty place tothecorpse.
Shoo, shoo, damn you! Klavusha hollered atno
one inparticular, butloud enough forthewhole yard
tohear.
Old man Kolya finally came down from thetree. They
had paperwork tofill out. Thecorpse was covered with
ascarf andthepractical fuss began. Once everything
had been dealt with, Petenka, all white andtranspar-
ent, lay in a coffin on a table, opposite the windows
that looked out on the garden. The next day, he was
supposed tobe buried, not far away, attheLebedinoye
cemetery. Butinthemorning they discovered thecoffin
empty. Petenkaor rather, his corpsewas nowhere
tobe found. Old man Kolya checked here andthere; he
even looked in the cellar and behind the cupboard
not awhiff ofthedead man anywhere. True, thecoffin
remained brazenly andnakedly onthetable, asifinvit-
ing someone toclimb in.
181
Strangely, the corpses disappearance had an im-

measurably more powerful effect on old man Kolya
than his sons actual death. He staggered around
like a drunkard, sniffed at corners, and even roused
little Mila from her usual state. Eyes wide open, arms
spread, asiftaking thevisible fortheinvisible world,
she crawled through thebushes insearch ofthecorpse.
At any rate, old man Kolya never did get a response
and only sleepy Igoryok remained not-human some-
where, inone corner oranother.
Meanwhile, theofficial, earthly part ofdeath came
into its own. Some half-drunk types crowded bythegates
and some official representatives hung around on the
street. It was time tocarry thecoffin outandonward,
toits hole. Old man Kolya yelped attheidea ofburying
anempty coffin. It was theemptiness that bothered him,
forsome reason. Ifinstead ofPetenka, thered been ade-
caying, stinking-evaginating monster in the coffinhe
could have stood that. Butemptiness? Not foranything!
He ran up, bent over andteeth bared, andstarted snapping
attheemptiness, clacking his teeth asiftheemptiness
were something real. Mavka, the old neighbor lady,
turned upandtried tostuff rags andeven abrick into
thecoffin, butold man Kolya shoved her aside.
Meanwhile, they couldnt wait any longer. Dusty,
excited voices could be heard outside andthegravedig-
gers might not wait thewhole time andleave. Thefat,
paunchy bosses were knocking atthegates. Crazed, old
man Kolya snatched upthecoffin asifit were afeather.
182
THE SUBLIMES
Whered you get that energy, Kolya? Whered you

get it? old lady Mavka mumbled, andshe took aplace
atthefront.
Thefuneral procession with theempty coffin began
tomove; old man Kolya goggled, buthis feet wouldnt
obey him very well andturned aside, just barely descend-
ing totheyard. Thepeople outside thegates were noisy.
Little Mila, looking around, was next tothecoffin. They
had tomove forward, toward thepeople. Butold man
Kolya rushed aside outoffear; he had asudden desire
to throw the coffin in a ditch and run away to God
knows wherefar, far away.
Butold lady Mavka had sunk her claws so deep
into thecoffin andher feet so deep into theground,
that old man Kolya couldnt tear her away. Then he
had the sudden desire to jump in the coffin him-
self and have Mila and old lady Mavka carry him,
farther, onward, to the grave. And he would wave
his arms around and shout to the sky. Old man
Kolya somersaulted like a swimmer and dove into
thecoffin. Thecoffin was upset, old lady Mavka fell,
old man Kolya landed nearly upside down, andMila
kept looking around. It was just the three of them,
alone on the grass around the somersaulted coffin.
Meanwhile, the gates gave way, little by little,
to the impatient rubberneckers of death. Suddenly,
old man Kolyas eye fell on the cock-corpse, whod
darted out of his shed and ran crookedly, clucking,
toward alonely, log structure that belonged toKlava,
183
kind oflike acountry bathhouse, hidden behind some

bushes, offtoone side.
There was something lifeless and curious in the
cock-corpses cry and, sensing a resolution, old man
Kolya leapt after him like aquick-moving idol.
This is what happened: That night, after mid-
night, Padov woke up and something made him look
out the window. In the yardin the moonlighthe
witnessed Klavusha, belly jutting forward, moving
something inawheelbarrow. That something wasno
doubt about itthebody ofself-eater Petenka. His ema-
ciated arms looked like sharp swords. Padov recalled
that, according to Annas stories, there was a secret
entrance leading to the Fomichev half. Klavusha had
undoubtedly used it tospirit Petya away.
But why does she need the body, and where is
she taking it? he thought. Seeing that Klavusha was
having a hard time getting the body to the log bath-
house, Tolya quietly went downstairs.
Neither Klavusha northebody was anywhere tobe
seen; the wheelbarrow just stood by the entrance.
For a long time, Padov couldnt bring himself to ap-
proach. Finally, he spat andmade his way tothedoor,
pushed it, andlooked in. Hed been expecting all kinds
ofthingsatearful preparation ofthecorpse, fellatio
with adead penis, monstrous caressesbutnot this.
Klavusha sat peacefully, in candlelight her ass
atthecorpses footandseductively ate thechocolate
cakes shed placed onthedead man one after another.
184
THE SUBLIMES
Padov screamed, butKlavusha, who turned her good-na-

turedly gluttonous face toward him, with white icing
onher lips, intoned, Come in, Tolyushka. Come in. We
can eat together now.
Butwhy onthecorpse? Padov cried.
Petenka himself is chocolate. Hes my main cake.
My most delicious cake, Klavusha said with conviction,
licking her lips and looking at Padov with her usual
drunk andcertain eyes.
Padov went in.
The bathhouse was dark, but the candles did
agood job ofplucking thecorpse andchocolate cakes
from thedarkness.
Have adelicious treat! Klavusha rumbled. Padov
sat down. Klavusha dipped her fingers in her mouth,
ran them over thecorpse, andthen started licking them.
She paid no attention whatsoever to Padov. For some
reason, Tolya suddenly realized that she really did see
thebody asachocolate cake.
Butwhy isnt she eating Petenka, literally? he
thought.
Evidently, Klava distinguished essence from em-
pirical knowledge of a thing and instinctively kept
them straight. Inher soul andinareal way, she took
Petenka foracake; though she was, toall appearances,
eating ordinary cakes, in her consciousness she was
eating acake-corpse. Padov understood this intuitively
when, huddling andmentally sniggering, hed observed
Klavushas behavior foranentire half-hour. Understood
185
and rejoiced. Klavusha, meanwhile, gave the corpses

nose acarefree tickle andsat right onits stomach, ev-
idently wishing todrown inthepastry.
There was a quiet knock at the bathhouse door.
Padov shuddered. Its uscame the whisper. Remin
and Ann appeared in the crack without a sound.
Apparently, Padov had awakened Annulya andachain
reaction had ensued. After explanations that resem-
bled murmurings inawall, everyone took seats around
thecorpse. Remin pulled outtheinevitable bottle.
You got the stuff, Gena, Klavusha said. Well,
atreat, atreatandshe took offhis socks.
This was how old man Kolya found them
in the morning. He gave a grunt and smiled know-
ingly. Thecock-corpse, it turned out, had been drawn
by the wheelbarrow and had been circling around it.
All the rest followed, as if nothing special had hap-
pened. With thehelp ofGena andPadov, they dragged
thebody outside, butthere thegates gave way topres-
sure from thegathered crowd, who were presented with
thefollowing scene: thecoffin lying offtotheside, old
lady Mavka clucking around it, and the corpse being
dragged byits hair toward thecoffin.
Theon-lookers were dumbstruck, butthefat village
authorities knew what todo.
Mustve been extracting his fat forsoap orsome-
thing, they trumpeted, half injest.
The crowd suddenly started laughing, and some-
how it all went smoothly from there.
186
THE SUBLIMES
Weve brought wreaths from the organization,

the authorities said in a bass voice, to preserve
thedecencies.
Everything now looked right and proper. Petenka
was inhis coffin andeveryone else started moving. Old
man Kolya waved his cap atKlavusha.
187
X
Old man Kolya returned from thecemetery thoroughly

undone. He was repeatedly drawn, first up into
a tree, then forward into space. He brought some
things from the house into the yard and bundled
them up, asifhe were getting ready togo somewhere.
Indeed, melancholy had eaten away at him. He sat
down on a small log for a smoke and talked with
thecock-corpse. Thecock-corpse was sitting, ruffled,
like ahen hewn from atree.
Spitting tobacco, old man Kolya said, Im leaving
here, leaving Icant live inthis place.
Cluck cluck cluck, the cock-corpse responded
woodenly.
But the old mans desire suddenly ran into resis-
tance from his only living offspringlittle Mila.
While Petenka was eating himself andcoming closer
todeath, another quiet, estimable story had been play-
ing out in the corner of the Sonnov-Fomichev house:
little Mila had fallen inlove with old Mikhei.
How could this have happened? After all, while
seeing, thelittle girl saw nothing. Ontheother hand,
she had many gifts. It all started when Mikhei was
sitting onasmall log. Aswas his wont, he bared his
empty place andwatched thefilthy cat lick it. Mikhei
wanted very much tobe shunned even bysewer cats,
188
THE SUBLIMES
butfornow he was still far from that. Atthat moment,

something trembled inMilas eyes. Asusual, she first
saw clearly the formal side ofreality, butshe had no
inner sensation of seeing it. Then, all of a sudden,
atthepoint when she saw Mikhei, who, atthesame time,
she was not-seeing, she imagined she heard singing
andsaw before her inner gaze ablack spot that evoked
inher theidea ofarose. Smiling, she clapped her hands
andran like ababy goat toward Mikhei. Kicking aside
thefilthy cat, she fell toher knees andstarted licking
theempty place. Mikhei went onthealert. Thehalf-ab-
sent old mans ears wiggled and his nose turned red.
He couldnt connect this fact with his mind and just
moved thelower part ofhis torso flirtatiously. Igoryok,
who alone witnessed this scene, began toapplaud.
That was when it all began.
In secret corners, in one mysterious shed or an-
other, behind logs, Milas lost gaze began penetrating
cloudy worlds that she firmly connected to Mikhei,
orrather, his empty place. Sometimes she saw ablack
spot andtherecent singing. Attimes, awail came from
the black spot. Sometimes, just noticing Mikhei, she
felt thedistant movement ofsomething else, something
beautiful and stinking, and it was imprinted in her
eyes by a light sparkle shifting into consciousness.
But this movement, this spark of the transcenden-
tal, aroused a blatant sexual interest in her. In her
mind, roses bowed; her knees trembled andshe walked
toward Mikhei. Mikhei never was able toconnect her
189
appearance with anything specific andcould only grin

attheincomprehensibility.
He wanted people toshun him, yet he always bliss-
fully connected herMilato a puzzle of his own.
Therefore, atfirst, like awolfhound intheflowers, he
avoided her, turning sideways. Sometimes he growled,
looking for a crack in the sky. Eventually, though,
he surrendered. With a limp movement, surveying
thespace with asingle glance, he would bare his empty
place. Milochka would drop toher knees andher entire
face looked like it was sprinkled with heavenly dew.
Actually, sometimes small black dips appeared. Her
tongue especially was black Fellatio with Mikheis
missing penis made her look utterly, childishly faint.
Far, thelittle girl will go far, Mikhei mumbled. It was
inthis state that they were found when old man Kolya
got theidea toflee Lebedinoye. Butit wasnt that easy
totear Mila away from Mikhei. Old man Kolya banged
onpots, threw sheets, andsang songs. Milochka, with
her slender, sensitively empty little fingers, seemed
to cling to Mikheis nonpresent body. Fyodor defused
thesituationcursorily, with theedge ofhis being, he
had noticed his friend completely leave himself.
That was wrong what gramps was doing, Fyodor
mumbled atMikhei insecret.
Soon after, Mikhei vanished completely from his field
ofconsciousness, andtheir friendship came toanend
ofits own accord, butFyodor couldnt stand his human
presencenot even inpassing. Therefore, he once simply
190
THE SUBLIMES
threatened Mikhei with abeam, andMikhei instantly

backed down. Thething was that, after theempty place
lickings with Milochka, hed discovered, all ofasudden,
aninterest inlife andadesire toextend his existence.
He became more fearful and anxious, though all this
seemed completely independent of the former other-
worldliness he maintained. His interest may have been
aroused bytheoutrageous form ofintercourse. Within
an hour, Mikhei had talked Mila into running away
from Lebedinoye oncondition that he go with her.
They packed the basics the night before and,
early the next morning, three ugly, unearthly fig-
ures weighed down with bundles left the gates
of the Sonnov house: one, old man Kolya, despite
the weight, was skipping from joy; the second, Mila,
was absurdly absent; thethird, Mikhei, was gravely fo-
cused, asifonhis way tochurch.
Klavushas unctuously awful face smiled at them
from her window.
191
XI
Meanwhile, Padov got bogged down in his interest

inKlavusha. Simultaneously, his own longing tormented
him. Astrange state came over him that, forstarters,
could have been characterized as an inferiority com-
plex relative to the Supreme Hierarchies, which he
sometimes took tobe theconsciousness oftheAngels,
butsometimes surmised astheexistence ofthehereto-
fore unknown Supreme Inhuman Spirits.
Sometimes Tolya would sit down onaberm, strok-
ing his tummy andspacing outabout theSupreme
trying topenetrate totheunknown consciousness.
At times like this, Tolyas mood could be squeal-
ingly elated, since, ashe went deeper into this lightning
gnosis, he raised sparks ofunprecedented, trans-human
spiritualityandthis flattered his pride.
Butnow adull depression came over him.
He kept having glimmers inhis mind ofthetrue
supreme being, something you couldnt even ask about,
andanything you could ask aquestion about, even ifit
was hard to do, and no matter how fleetinglyany-
thing close athand was just not all that lofty. Still, no
matter how he excelled, he would remain insignificant
before theunattainably supreme, atleast fornow.
Of course, the supreme hierarchies didnt appear
directly, and even the very fact of their existence
192
THE SUBLIMES
was byno means clear, buthis imagination definitely

slipped its chain and drew one picture more piquant
than thenext.
Here we are suffering from violence inflicted
by inferior beings, he wailed once in his mind,
dropping to the grass. And yet were aware of our
profound superiority over everyone. Here were
thesalt oftheearth andsky; buttherethere, al-
though our superiority over our inferiors will become
objectivized and manifest, on the other hand, well
see that we are, by no means, the salt of the earth
andtheSupreme Beings will look into our eyes with
cold curiosity. How am I to endure this wretched-
ness? And we still dont know which is better: this
way or that. So you get jerked from one extreme
totheother.
Suddenly Tolya felt like a pork chop, trembling
andhalf-baked; his thoughts moved away from thelofty
and became like flies struggling to escape a net; he
even slapped his forehead, trying tocrush those flies.
His thoughts twined, indeterminate and senseless,
weaving together with nonsense andreally no longer
belonging to his own great I, which had shrunk
down toakind oftiny imp.
Padov spat. The filthy cat froze, looking at his
mouth.
Feeling sad, Anatoly Yurievich? He heard Kla-
vushas moist voice. Tolya sniggered.
193
I adore you, Anatoly Yurievich, Klavusha con-

tinued. Id like toput askillet onyou. Ilike it when
astump has amind.
So now you take me for a stump, Klavdia
IvanovnaPadov smiled joyouslybut Im sad be-
cause Im nothing butaman andcast outinto this
filthy cellar of the universe, as the famous expres-
sion goes.
Is this really a cellar? Klavusha broke into
a wide grin. Thats something I never expected
from you, Tolyusha. What cellar? This is the vault
ofheaven! Paradise! Look atthebirdies. What pointy
little heads they have! Theyre nothing but bloody,
flying pillows or burdocks. Arent they charming?
AndthemuttPadov looked atthehuge, red-mawed
bulldog dully observing them over the neighbors
fence its a half-manifested angel, and his pretty
teeth practically talk. And the earthKlavusha
stamped her footwhere are you going to find
awhore like this?
Then what about the soul? Padov playfully re-
called the wounds of childhood. Is it immortal?
Andhe winked ather.
Dont get so steamed! Immortal! Klavusha had
agood laugh. Its eternal. It just is. No question. What
athing toworry about.
Youre so confident, Klavusha, Padov said half-jok-
ingly, hurt. Thats agood mood forliving inhell. You
wouldnt be outofplace there.
194
THE SUBLIMES
But he became more and more interested in her

world, where everything was inverted andhad adiffer-
ent name andmeaning.
That evening, they pressed close. Only Fyodor
climbed ontheroof somewhere. There was agathering
intheyard, inacorner ofthevacant Fomichev half.
Sitting atthetable were Klavusha, Padov, Anna, Remin,
andIzvitsky. Igoryok was cavorting inthegrass nearby.
Klavusha was practically inhaling her tea.
Theblanket shed wrapped around herself gave akind
ofshudder andshe clutched it inabad way. Padov got
the idea that Klavenka saw her blanket as the con-
tinuation ofher own skin. Klavushas breasts sagged
and she looked at them, as if into a mirror. Anna
smoked, thinking about destruction.
Apresent foryou, andyou, Klava said, andshe
put an overturned glass before each of them. There
are mushrooms for you, too, she shouted to Fyodor
ontheroof, having given upontreating him inany
special way.
She lowered her hands into the pot, as if into
anabyss. Many already thought her hair looked like
slime.
You take everyone foridols, Klavenka, Izvitsky
said gently.
What do you mean, Zhenichka? Klavusha smiled
faintly. Some forpaper, some foragoose.
Igoryok really did seem like paper ashe ran past
them all. Darkness was gathering.
195
Klavas eyes seemed tohead fortheunknown. She

looked into thesky asifit were ahole. Suddenly, she
cast her awkwardly embracing gaze over everyone.
All right, lets all dance. Evil spirits
Little by little, everyone joined in her deliri-
ous, but real steadiness, picking up on her idea.
Ontheroof, even Fyodor woke up.
At first they danced, still referencing past meta-
physical creatures. The dancing Padov was basically
awful, like a dancing Mephistophelian thought. His
hair looked like adissertation from beyond thegrave.
Their essences themselves seemed to be dancing
onthehorizon, inthemoonlight.
Later, though, Klavushas world definitely
washed over everyone. She, herself, shaking, stared
at the dancers, though her consciousness reflected
not them butclumsy logs andskillets turning intheir
place, asiftheyd been stripped often skins, specters.
Klavusha emptily wanted tojump onRemin, asifhe
were abobbing log. She tickled Igoryok like acat, ashe
sat strumming a guitar. Padovs seeming apparition
scared her and she regarded Annulya, who suddenly
broke offher wild dance, asherself, dressing thewoman
inher own dress.
Meanwhile, themerry dance went on.
You live interestingly, Klavenka, Izvitsky said
tenderly into her ear.
Come here, Igor, come hereKlava suddenly
stopped, marking acircle.
196
THE SUBLIMES
The dance ended. From his corner, Fyodor stared

at the metaphysicals, understanding everything
inhis own way.
Thenight passed intumult.
Padov had entered Klavushas world andhe envied
her alittle. Her worlds irrational andabsurd, Padov
thought, yet protected and self-sufficient, stable pre-
cisely because oftheabsurdity shes locked reality into.
No alien winds ever break through; my world is my
fortress.
Atthesame time, he saw that this wasnt insanity,
butastate inwhich theIwas preserved. Thepractical
orientation remained intact, although thetranscenden-
tal perception of the world had changed and the old
irrational underpinning of things and their signifi-
cance had fallen apart. Klavusha could now perceive
theworld otherwise, absurdly andwith agloomy joy.
Im laughing, laughing, laughing! Padov felt like
screaming. But, forsome reason, he feared themeta-
physicals laughter in response and the complicity
ofother worlds ingeneral.
Inthemorning, everyone was totally self-absorbed.
Klavusha was talking about her guts, saying shed
like totoss them intheair, anddrinking tea straight
from thepot, winking atit asifit were alifeless ear.
She was talking about theworld asawhole being, acute
little hut flying up, turning upside down, firmly grasped
byher strong andall-encompassing mind. She shook her
fist sternly into the distance. Izvitsky reveled in dark
197
sexual fantasies, drawing figures with his hand asifit

were a penis with a mind. Remin thought about his
fouled relationship tothereligion ofI; Anna nurtured
her inner intellectualized witch; and Padov became ir-
ritated again byhints attheSupreme Beings existence.
Tolya was angry about Klavenkas defenses: Id
like to breach her world. Klavusha was sitting,
peacefully stroking her bared shoulders, as if her
shoulders were divine.
A disjointed discussion began, during which
Zhenichka strummed a guitar and Remin knocked
back thevodka.
Were lacking something, butwe can already sense
Were attherazors edge Padov chirped. Tosurvive
beyond thegrave, you have tobe quick andhave inside
you asatanic pride andthefeeling ofamouse!
Tolya suddenly spat into his mug ofbeer.
You have tobe Satan andamouse! he expounded,
raising his little eyes skyward. Be amouse toget used
toinferiority andso defend yourself from theSupreme,
and be Pride that blocks out the light so you dont
perish from longing and encroachment on the I. So
there! Andhe downed his beer.
This scene provoked hysterical laughter in those
around him, but Klavusha looked at Padov fairly
good-naturedly.
We all have it in us, Tolenkaand she heaved
astinking sigh. Asfar asIm concerned, Idont need
another world. This ones fine as is, especially when
198
THE SUBLIMES
theres alittle death init. Andthose supremes Phooey.

Icouldnt care less. Theres no such thing. There isnt.
And she looked at Padov with suddenly still eyes
suffused with adistant turbidity.
Padov froze, but Remin, paying no attention,
started chirping, We dont, we dont have Satan
andthemouse inus simultaneously. Thecontradic-
tion would drive us insane.
That evening, Tolya was eager tocarry outanas-
sault on Klavusha. My ideas are apart from her,
but maybe my feeling, my feelingand he sniggered.
Anyway, Im curious.
Tolya decided toseduce Klavusha; theothers went
tobed early andPadov started picking his way there
intheevening blowing ofthebreeze. Secretly, he was
tortured by the desire to go up to Klavenka and im-
mediatelyandhe meant immediatelykiss her cheek
asifit were ahuge, world swamp. Buthe dreaded kiss-
ing that strange world. Klavenka hadnt gone inyet. She
stood intheyard, byawindow, leaning over abucket
of sheets. Washing. But could sheets be white in her
hands? Her huge figure puffed outinthesunset rays
that broke through theleaves.
In his soul, Padov had sexualized her figure,
trying mentally tosqueeze her spirit into her flesh. He
grabbed her abruptly from behind andplanted aheavy
kiss on her fat, soft neck. When he recovered, Klava
was standing infront ofhim with adelightedly aston-
ished face andanet inher hands.
199
Alittle mosquito, amosquito, she squeaked, smug,

beleaguered. Andshe threw thenet over Padovs head.
Got you.
Padov started laughing. Klavushas entire world
rose up before his eyes. Sex fell away and there was
just Klavenkas darkly mad gaze.
Rejoicing, dodging, laughing, Padov threw off
the net and darted away from the lively, splashing
Klavusha, who was trying to catch him in her net
like a mosquito. The bushes cracked under their ab-
surdly leaping bodies. Hop-skip-jump, you wont get
away, Klavusha exclaimed in an otherworldly-joyous
little voice. The world took on an explicit, realistic,
and senseless look. Suddenly, Padov yelled and was
swallowed upbythedarkness.
200
XII
Inthemorning, everything seemed tohave settled into

the soft valleys of thought. His soul wasnt weighed
down bythejumping andthenet orbythelast outra-
geous philosophical scene over Satan and the mouse.
Padov only thought, gloomily, For that woman, sex
andits displacement are huge With her, you cant go
atit theusual way.
Butaninner, underground rumbling was mounting.
In her soul, Klavusha was frantic; her Klavenka-
Sonnova powers had shot up and then plunged into
atailspin offrightening force. This was obvious from
her movements and her particular, drunkenly turbid,
encompassing gaze.
She now took agoat forasorcerer, atree foranidol,
mushrooms for thoughts, and the sky for a cage.
Thegiants ofher absurdity were everywhere. Once, when
it started torainrain she took fortheLords tearsshe
brought outahuge bucket tocollect thetears. Butinside
her, something sang andthis song may have accompanied
thecollapse oftheold world, thegist ofwhich was that
theprevious essence ofthings had sunk tothebottom
andthey themselves had been twisted bythenaked will
andpower ofconsciousness. Asaresult, theentire world
had plunged into chaos and quasi-destruction, and,
owing tothat, Klavenkas soul had acquired stability.
201
Anxiety (other peoples) had led only toamanifest,

visible acceleration oftheprocess inthelast few days.
Meanwhile, everyone else was still inaspin. Their
spirits were enveloped by what was former and dear,
buttheir behaviorthanks tothetightly wound situa-
tionwas more andmore reminiscent ofthebehavior
ofmental cases. Theabsurd immediacy oftheir outward
behavior matched thesecrets intheir souls.
After acouple ofdays, Klavusha, who was totally
relaxed from the special spiritual warmth character-
istic only of absurdity, went out into the yard with
quite darkly mad eyes. Even her movements sped up,
asifshe were catching invisible flies. She tossed agoose
into atree and, suddenly, asifsomeone were driving
her on, she started sweeping thetrash onto thestreet.
She let theanimals loose, too.
An understanding and amazed Padov laughed
nearby.
But she rushed to drive him out, too, practically
with arag, onto thestreet.
Tolya tried to explain himself, but obviously she
took him foranobject. All hell had broken loose inside
thehouse. Chairs were being moved andbundles tied
upforsome reason. Klavusha worked nonstop.
What is this? Anna asked.
ButKlava, good-naturedly anddevastatedly, drove
everyone out of the house, like metaphysical roly-po-
lies. Only her own coat hung high up, forsome reason,
almost attheceiling. Even Fyodor didnt oppose her.
202
THE SUBLIMES
There was no particular spite (only Izvitsky grum-

bled), since theejection was somehow too otherworldly,
too much not ofthis world. Klavusha even mentioned
that she was leaving with everyone else and locking
uptheSonnov house.
Onward, onward! blond Igoryok gestured into
thedistance.
Thewindows were slammed shut again andFyodor
stirred. Thefilthy cat looked forold man Mikhei.
Themetaphysicals clustered intheyard, onthe
grass, and watched Klavusha nail the windows shut
with Fyodors help.
Where tonow? Where tonow! Igoryok exclaimed
impatiently.
Klavusha hung several strange cloaks ontrees.
Everyone set out. Dark, dark is Klavenkas fat,
Padov whispered, pondering her flesh. As they exited
the gates, they looked back and saw a deserted nest:
alarge wooden house with several boarded upwindows.
Each little beam seemed soaked in human ob-
scurantism. But now the house was sad, as if it hid
everything secret.
Klavushenka was so preoccupied that even Fyodor
didnt know where she was going. They walked nearly
to the train station in silence. Evidently, it was time
togo their separate ways.
203
XIII
Only the cock-corpse stayed behind in the deserted

house, like aneye. From time totime, he looked over
the fence, as if trying to detect the nonexistent. His
eyes iced over, his hair hung from his head like in-
comprehensible junk, and he, himself, now resembled
inhis outward image not adead chicken, butacube.
Occasionally, in the evening, the old neighbor lady
Mavka heard his wooden howl, orrather ahowl ema-
nating from wood.
What was strange, though, was that the cock-
corpse washed upinthemornings. Orrather, he ran
a wet hand over the unsuitable parts. Of course, he
failed to notice the absence of all the inhabitants.
Therats were probably theonly ones toknow what he
ate. Buteven they didnt often see his head, which he
pulled in, asifhiding insome corner.
The rats, watching him, bared their teeth, but,
forsome reason, they couldnt bring themselves tocome
close, asifAndrei Nikitich werent even acorpse. All
day long, thecube listened closely tothesounds he
made. Once, when themoon appeared, he pointed inits
direction. But evidently the outside world had died
forhim long ago andcleared outofhis soul.
His wooden face, meanwhile, had a strange, elon-
gated grandeur, asifsomeone invisible had taken onhis
204
THE SUBLIMES
individuality, asareplacement, andprayed even more

totheInvisible, butthen stepped aside. Inthelong in-
tervals between these prayers, the cube was filled
inside with anaked howl ofmeaningless thoughts. It
was a quiet, half-dead howl. Thoughts not filled with
any content, even meaningless content, revolved qui-
etly, asifwaiting tobe filled. Butthey werent.
Nothing connected this blank progression
ofthoughts toother worlds. Butthat sought-for, covert
world may have been right there.
Thecube kept feeling thespaces edges andcor-
ners, asifplaying hide andseek with theemptiness.
Theonly outrageous reminder came from theprayers
that went through that Unknown, which was like some
kind ofchess piece, butit was killing him, even though
this sort ofkilling was thelast thing about him remi-
niscent oflife. Astime passed, theprayers became fewer
andfewer. Thecock-corpse was left wholly tohimself.
His big, iced-over eyes no longer asked any
questions.
One not-terribly-strange little peasant cutting
through theSonnov yard tothestreet suddenly stopped
andkissed him. Butthecube paid no attention what-
soever tothelittle man, not even noticing thekiss.
205
XIV
They said goodbye at the station. In parting, Padov

whispered toFyodor, Does Klavenka have these kinds
ofoutbursts often? Shes not usually like this.
Fyodor mumbled something inreply.
Klavenka took acommuter train inone direction;
Padov, Remin, and Igoryok in the other. Fyodor set
offonfoot. Anna remained instinctively with Izvitsky.
This was where thetwists andturns inher relationship
with Padov had ledtohis coldness ordark madness
over his states ofmind. AndifAnna wasnt with Padov,
most often she was drawn toIzvitsky.
She was actually relieved when everyone scattered
and they found themselves together. Izvitskys trem-
bling andmysterious little face looked unalienated.
Annulya winked at Izvitsky. They drank a mug
ofbeer apiece inhonor ofSonnov obscurantism andtook
thebus toMoscow.
Little bylittle, theimmense city, outwardly messy,
as if made up of shreds, enveloped them. They saw
the familiar mud, the bottomless dust, the absurd
side streets without asingle sapling, asifinthegrip
of scrap metal. On rare occasions, these side streets
had beer stands that looked like wooden latrines where
flabby little people clustered around. Occasionally, little
green gardens would show up, fouling the heart with
206
THE SUBLIMES
areminder oflife. And, finally, thepeople, their huge

mass, the flowand suddenly among them, strange,
playfully otherworldly people who delighted the eye.
Annulya smiled when she saw ones like that.
Isee scamps are being born here inRussia again
andIzvitsky understood her.
They decided to stop by and see their people,
themetaphysicals, asFyodor put it.
There were thefollowing possibilities: First, they
could visit separate individuals forpersonal, strictly
secret, subjective contact. Usually, there were no
gatherings inthose apartments. Ontheother hand,
the individuals themselves were magnificent, no
less soas Anna put itthan Padov and other ex-
tremes, although intheir own way. These individuals
were deeply hidden from theuninitiated, boarded up,
you might even say. Second, there were apartments
where gatherings of more open, but still quite
nightmarish individuals took place. Finally, atleast
in summer, there were places, usually filthy, de-
serted beer stands that gravitated toward cemeteries,
where avaried, existential public would gather from
time totime.
Of course, they could go to a few leftie,
fairly sophisticated, but at the same time enlight-
ened salons where Padovs group was fairly well
known, butAnna andIzvitsky were now drawn only
to the deep underground, not even to the interme-
diate, quiet abodes, like the sleeping one where
207
Padov was resting with Remin. Succumbing totheir

desire, they went toafunny little beer stand not far
from the Bogorodskoye cemetery, counting on run-
ning into one oftheir own there.
The beer stand was impossibly ugly and, for ex-
actly that reason, endearing. The ugliness consisted
of the one (broken) window, the absurd beam lying
bythedoor, andtheparticular stink that came from
thesubtle combination ofthenearby graves andtheal-
cohol fumes. Otherwise, the beer stand was fairly
orthodox: dirt, puke, bottles steeped in black dust,
anddrunks singing fractured songs.
From a distance, Anna looked into the custom-
ers barely visible faces. This time no one seemed tobe
there, butsuddenly Izvitsky was delighted topick out
at a lonely, little tablea cynic with regard to every-
thing earthly: Tanya. He was alone, without theother
itinerant philosophers.
He greeted them with araised mug, like theMessiah.
Izvitsky patted Tanya onthehead. Anna herself looked
at him lovingly, as if absolute salvation itself, albeit
somewhat bared, shone through Tanyas face.
Where are theitinerants? Izvitsky asked.
Crawled back totheir nooks andcrannies, Tanya
replied. There was anawkward situation.
Andhe told them thelatest metaphysical gossip.
No one ever comes here anymore, he added, look-
ing cheerfully andinsanely atthenice sun. Only me.
Idrink beer with Him. Mister X.
208
THE SUBLIMES
Atthat, asmall, vile, tousled being with blue, devoted,

quasi-Raphaelesque, quasi-doglike little eyes appeared.
This isnt Him. Tanya grinned.
Then who is it? Anna exclaimed.
Astray. Let him suckle fornow.
Theevening ended traditionally forthis place, that
is, atthegraves.
Everyone lay down on them, and the bodies they
were lying onseemed toinspire them topleasure. Anna
even felt atouch ofsomething sexual. From theblack
andmeaningful earth. Familiar, troubling currents ran
down her white, tender, andvery sensitive leg.
Butall this happened inpeacefully smiling, calm
tones.
Only thestray smiled nastily atevery word.
The next day, Anna and Izvitsky met up, drank
aglass ofwine apiece, andended upalone intheroom
where Anna lived. Anna knew that Izvitsky had been
(orwas?) very much inlove with her, butshe also knew
that there was no one more underground than Izvitsky
inthesexual respect.
Touched by this puzzle, she came closer to him
with all her breath. Her very skin seemed to emit
acloud oftenderness andthequiver inher voice in-
vited him in. Once againashad happened long ago,
in the summer, outside MoscowIzvitsky couldnt
resist. Asifsurrendering totheeffect ofsome intoxi-
cating field, he began kissing thehalf-undressed Anna
theway people kiss aflower.
209
Soon after, plunged into pleasure, Anna forgot every-

thing else. Butinher imagination, which underpinned
her sensory pleasure and poured abysses into him,
floated something dark anddead. Nonetheless, this dark
anddead something, while evoking anobscure shriek
inher soul, so intensified her passion andorgasm, she
thought her brain would explode. Anna just moaned,
so deadso deadso dead, andher sweet body jerked.
Barely recovered, she looked at Izvitskys face,
and its torment and extreme alienation struck her.
Thecaresses werent even over when Izvitsky suddenly
started laughing. His laugh was utterly sick andseemed
toconverse with thewall.
Anna froze andIzvitsky started senselessly poking
the body hed just possessed. From his face, which
had shed the softness of pleasure, she could tell he
was astonished bywhat had happened andespecially
astonished bythesight ofAnnas body. Atthesame
time, there was thesense that some invisible, butef-
fective barrier had arisen between him and Anna.
Suddenly, smiling weakly, Izvitsky began stroking
his own chest, as if begging its forgiveness. A terri-
ble thought flashed through Annas mind. Your self
is jealous ofme! she exclaimed.
210
XV
Izvitskys sex secret dated far into thepast, when he

was still simply sexual.
Atthetime, he went through aseries ofinitiations,
mainly involving awoman andaman. Butneither one
engaged him completely. He sought sex of his own
that would consume his entire subconscious and not
skip asingle undercurrent.
Izvitsky believed that the person who mastered
his penis mastered the world, because, for Izvitsky,
the whole world, everything otherworldly and secret,
hung onthethread ofsex.
Ultimately, he simply sought anappropriate object
forhis love. This monstrous, underground, spiritual,
andatthesame time sensory energy cant have been
aimed just atthese insignificant beings, he thought.
Izvitsky cast about among perceptions, including
every mechanism oftheimagination; hed populated
his bed with every imaginable and unimaginable
monster: a gorgon with the poetic gift of Rimbaud;
a kind of synthesis of Pure Love and Devil-Bearer;
asexualized Spirit; asnake with soft feminine skin
andthesoul ofBlok. Theyd all been there. This rec-
onciled him to life, but nothing more; in parallel,
he maintained contacts on an extrasexual, meta-
physical level.
211
His liberation did not come all atonce, butrather

after secret, mystical shifts inhis soul, which, it turned
out, were being used byalatent, subconscious, erotic
energy. Andit all came about inarather amazingly or-
ganic andnatural way.
It happened about ayear earlier. Intheabyss, Izvitsky
concentrated onthefact that sexual fury andthedepth
ofits penetration increased forhim astheobject oflove
came closer tohis I.Inaddition, he started noticing that
theincreasingly frequent, spontaneous touch ofhis hand
tohis own skin (whether onhis chest orhis other arm)
evoked apeculiar sexual shudder inhim. This sensation
had acompletely different quality than ifhis skin had
been touched bysomeone elses (say, awomans) hand.
This shudder held something painfully intimate andim-
mediate, asifacurtain had come crashing down.
Finally, he also saw something strange happen-
ing, not only tothesensory, butalso tothespiritual
object of his love. He was steadily shifting toward
what was most subjective and dear to him, that is,
ultimately, his own I.
Even before this (but lately especially) hed often
been drawn, even during lovemaking with anordinary,
real woman, tosomehow place his I(ifonly partially)
inher body. Thedegree ofhis arousal depended signifi-
cantly onthesuccess ofthis operation. More andmore
often, he needed either tofind himself inthewoman
or(without this, it didnt work atall) let his imagina-
tion commit theforgery.
212
THE SUBLIMES
Now, since these changes, the womans envelope

suddenly andmysteriously slept andbehind it he dis-
tinctly saw thetrue object ofhis lovehimself.
The first time this happened (in explicit form)
was the morning after a wild and debauched night.
His own dear andincredible self had risen upinhis
imagination, and it was toward this image that his
erotic energy had surged. This monstrous ecstasy
even made his heart beat faster. This is it! This is
love! he cried outmentally, nearly collapsing tohis
knees. Thedearest, closest, most priceless Theone
andonly Nothing can compare!
Looking at himself in the mirror, Izvitsky shud-
dered. Aspasm ofblack sensuality ran across his face.
Instinctively, he touched his cheek and immediately
jerked his hand away: his fingers had been pene-
trated bytheheat ofsuperhuman love. They trembled
and seemed drawn to drown in his face, to embrace
himself from theinside.
Buthow can Ipossess it? How? flashed through
his mind. His body itself, though, singing from
the rush of tenderness for himself, seemed to answer
that question. His mind clouded over, ashudder passed
through his limbs, andhe looked with delighted horror
at his own hand, which now seemed more desirable
andsweeter than thehand ofthemost refined volup-
tuary. Thequality was different, too. After all, this is
my hand, he moaned, my skin, mine, mine, not some-
one elses. Thebarrier between thesubject andobject
213
ofhis love came crashing down; thelover andtheloved

merged into one; there was no distance between them;
thesame skin loved andwas loved bythesame skin;
there is nothing to contrive regarding possession
shuddered inhis soulit is always with youforyou
andyour lover are one andthesame.
Naturally, he had touse his imagination tolearn
how topresent himself inasophisticated way assome-
thing external. This was thesimplest andtruest thing,
and since thenin his mindhe saw his own indi-
viduality whole andall his heat was aimed toward it.
Besides, there were additional, no less precious possi-
bilities: amirror, photography, meditation onunseeable
body parts, and, finally, thevery peculiar state ofplea-
sure, when he didnt have to present himself at all,
and the pure objective reality, eschewing imagination
andmeditation, seemed topleasure itself. His existence,
his whole body, all its currents, seemed toembrace each
other without splitting. This last way he could perform
thousands ofinvisible, gentle, refined, microsexual in-
timacies with his beloved, with himself, hourly, daily.
Asforthemethod ofdirect pleasure, Izvitsky im-
mediately envisaged all the possibilitiesand not
necessarily onanism. Soon after, forexample, Izvitsky
worked outasecret psychological technique forinter-
course with awoman (oraman) whereby she (orhe)
was only the mechanism for naked pleasure and his
passion, imagination, love, and so forth were aimed
only athimself.
214
THE SUBLIMES
Thus the turning point came. For a long time,

though, Izvitsky was haunted bythespecter ofeffem-
inacy. Still, no matter how nature was transformed,
it persisted in trying to return to the old channel.
Therefore, even an object of love like his own I was
frequently arrayed in a female form. More than once,
Izvitsky imagined himself in the form of a woman,
or at least with sensuously effeminate features. That
way it was simpler and more familiar to direct his
libido athimself. Even indaily life he tried tofemi-
nize, tosoften andsmooth his own body. Todo this
he ate anddrank alot, moved around less, andtried
to sleep in a soft bed. He even tried to put a cush-
ion on a chair before sitting down. He noticed with
mounting bliss that his shoulders were getting rounder
with each passing month, his detested muscles were
disappearing, his belly was becoming softer andmore
sensuous, and here and there on his dear body soft
dimples were appearing andintimate pockets offat. He
made a special, almost hysterical effort to soften his
skin andturn it into asteady source ofsensuality. His
hands were already soft and effeminate, as if created
forpleasure andcaresses.
Eventually, over time, his aspiration to imagine
himself intheform ofawoman was nearly erased. More
often he saw himself directly, in the form he existed
in, andthis was superior from thestandpoint oflove
forhis I, andtherefore sweeter. Besides, even his ap-
pearance was growing softer andsofter, although this
215
was asecondary point, ofcourse. Time took onstormy,

inextinguishable tones. His entire existence trembled
inalight, endless, sexual shudder, because theburning
source ofsexual excitation, that ishis own body, was
always with him. Amid thecrash anddin ofthewarped
world, amid thedust, thesirens wail, andthestreams
of people, any contact, even accidental, with a bared
part of his body caused a spasm in his soul as well
ashis body. Theworld was vanishing, asifcastrating
itself, andhis sexual energy was directed inward, en-
veloping his I with limitless love. Then it was easy
andjoyful forIzvitsky topass through this castrated
world, which lacked flesh and interest. On the other
hand, he was filled with apassion that never left him.
He could feel like alover fordays onend. His orgasm
was stronger and more outrageous and rocked his
soul more than while making love with any woman
orman. Theawareness offleshly union with himself,
alone, plus theawareness that hed finally gained love
forthedearest andmost eternally priceless thing hed
been givenhis orgasmconstituted the ultimate, su-
perhuman frenzy.
When he tired of possession, Izvitsky could look
athis reflections inmirrors with infinite tenderness.
Every curve ofhis body tormented him with its inim-
itable closeness; he wanted to bite into it and smash
themirror. Theworld wafted aninfinite emptiness; so
little did Izvitsky notice thewomen he used from time
totime asamechanism forhis lovemaking with himself
216
THE SUBLIMES
that their bodies andsouls seemed filled with nothing

but air. On the other hand, what joy it was to wake
upalone inbed andfeel your own bodys enveloping gen-
tleness, which was yours alone! Every morning, contact
with his own skin, his own puffy, rounded little shoul-
der, aroused ahysterical, sexual cry, asifhis own body
concealed thousands of outrageous beauties. Butoh,
happiness!these were not alien beings, buthis own,
his own incomparably dear, unalienated ball of price-
less I; more than once, inanecstatic frenzy, Izvitsky
sunk his teeth into his own body. His own eyes fol-
lowed him atnight. Sometimes they held so much love
that he was horrified.
Such was thelong poem, which had already been
going on an entire year. It was in this state of mind
that Izvitsky had arrived inLebedinoye.
217
XVI
Annas cry ofYour self is jealous ofme! took Izvitsky

bysurprise. Making love tohimself meant using women
as a mechanism, but what happened between him
andAnna bore adifferent stamp. Izvitsky could not view
Anna asamechanism, above all because, even before he
found his love for himself, he had experienced a pow-
erful, overwhelming emotion for her. In Lebedinoye,
the metastases of these feelings had suddenly revived.
Izvitsky sensed thearousal ofold, seemingly forgotten
emotions, outwardly directed emotions. Their reanima-
tion was facilitated by their ambiguity, as well; after
all, Anna was not simply on the outside, she was
also incredibly close to him in spirit and wholly from
thesame circle, thesame world, ontheinside, inaway.
Atfirst, Izvitsky gave himself over wholly tothestream
ofemotions, butthen his feeling forAnna encountered
mounting, organic resistance.
Above all, his consciousness (one might even say his
supreme I) met this rush ofemotion with extreme hos-
tility, as a betrayal. His feelings did seem to split: he
saw the possibilities of loving both himself and Anna.
Knowing how dangerous it was to let his inner censor
suppress anattraction, he decided not toresist his love
forAnna. His worries were invain, though. Over thepast
year hed fallen too deeply into love with himself forthat
218
THE SUBLIMES
emotion todesist forlong. Unfailingly, it existed, although

atthesame time he felt astrong attraction toAnna.
Split inthis way, ironizing, almost sniggering athim-
self, Izvitsky departed Lebedinoye with Anna. Butonce
alone with her, inhis room, gripped byher charm, in-
toxicated, he rushed into her arms, giving himself over
wholly tothenew attraction. His former feeling suddenly
vanished, only toarise implacably atthemost inoppor-
tune moment. Kissing Anna, drawing close to her, he
suddenly felt asharp, absurd pity forhimselfbecause
his sex was directed not athimself, because he was kiss-
ing someone elses shoulder. Simultaneously, a thought
flashed through his consciousness about his former
unique emotions and sensations. His body slackened
and the alien body seemed ridiculous and far away
precisely because it was alien. That was when Izvitsky
started laughing andAnna looked athim.
He looked very embarrassed. Anna quickly
touched his knees: Dear. Somewhere she loved him
even more than Padov. Inthat same moment, theter-
rible thought scorched her, shedding light on all
the twists in Izvitskys former conduct. She asked
him, Am Iright?
Izvitsky submissively bowed his head: Yes. There
could be no other answer. A nervous shudder seized
Anna. In fragmentary, but specific words, Izvitsky
drew her apicture.
They got up. Awhile passed intotal silence. Anna
went into thekitchen tosmoke.
219
But thats Glubev, she said suddenly after she

came back. Izvitsky burst outlaughing.
More likely a distortion of the religion or a sect
within it, he replied. After all, forthem love fortheIis
religious andspiritual innature.
Yes, buteven religious love has asexual moment.
Usually sublimated. And its only a moment.
Forme, asyou see, its completely different.
Thespirit can be introduced even into naked sex.
Naturally. Thats no secret to me, of course. It
all began when Iindependent of everyonegot close
tothereligion ofI. When you trulywith every fiber,
your entire consciousnesssense your I as the sole
reality and supreme value, then even sexual energy,
subconsciously at first, is naturally aimed at this
unique, priceless thing. Nothing else even exists. This
is my path. My belief inmy Igave theimpetus forsex
andfreed thefield forit.
Thats what I thought. Metaphysical solipsism
leads tosexual solipsism, Anna interrupted.
Not always. Its different fortheGlubevites.
Yes. Anna smiled. Asthey say, sooner orlater as-
ceticism is inevitable. After all, you have tocurb this
monster inside you. Not only that, the pure Spirit is
above eroticism.
But in my way, Izvitsky continued, which can
be considered drastically sectarian within the limits
of the religion of I, metaphysical worship of ones
own I has taken on a purely sexual form. Even my
220
THE SUBLIMES
transcendental Iis best envisaged inlovemaking. Every

touch ofmy own skin is aprayer, butaprayer tomyself.
Izvitskys eyes had lit up. Anna was incredibly ag-
itated. Deep down, this ego-sex impressed her andshe
could only welcome it. But, atthesame time, she was
hurt and a little irritated and she wanted to restore
thebalance. After all, shed thought Izvitsky had only
recently loved only her. She had totryalmost uncon-
sciouslytoseduce Izvitsky.
Somewhere, they got some wine andAnna used all
her secret charm. She knew what spiritual intimacy with
awoman through their shared, obscurantist worlds meant
for people of their circle. She greeted Izvitskys sexual
discovery with silent delight, butasifchallenging him
toshare his victory with her. She charmed Izvitsky with
this understanding ofhis secret forthelast time; he was
divided andjust couldnt tear his gaze from Annas body,
comparing it tohis own. She seemed so dear tohim that
at certain instants he couldnt tell the difference be-
tween his own body andhers. She enchanted him with
acertain inner similarity.
Then, gently touching her shoulders, he none-
theless, even inhis heat, caught that unfathomable,
terrible difference, which atthat moment, though, af-
fected only his sensations. Unfortunately, there wasnt
that absolute sensory unity between theperson loved
and the person loving that accompanied his own
eroticism. It was still asifAnna were behind akind
ofcurtain.
221
Little by little, he resurfaced, anticipating deep

inhis heart that Anna would be unable togain avictory
inthis outrageous duel, especially when he completely
recovered his senses.
He seemed tosee Anna through afog. Izvitsky was
so deep in his own thoughts that he couldnt under-
stand her state ofmind. Was she smiling ornot?
Finally, they went outside. Suddenly, Izvitsky felt
aninchoate desire topossess himself. Even thebuild-
ings seemed like projections ofhis own body.
His previous attraction had triumphed: it was
stronger and more real and indissolubly linked with
his I, his being.
They stopped at a lonely glass-fronted caf. Anna
was gentle, but in a sad way. The reality of her face
tormented him somewhere onthesurface now. Theques-
tion of her existence was still undecidedit had just
been set asideandinhis consciousness, his own real-
ities, his own features heated up.
Theworlds confoundment andduality, which some-
times existed andsometimes didnt, disappeared along
with theworld itself. Every bite, every touch ofhimself
brought tothefore thetotality ofhis own being andits
pulsing sexuality.
Anna smiled, told Izvitsky good-bye, and quietly
kissed him on the lips. He watched her go. Suddenly
he realized that ifAnna hadnt been able todivert him
from his new path, then no one could. Theonly thing
left was toplunge into theabyss.
222
XVII
After awhile Izvitsky found himself alone, near anodd,

tumbled-down building. Everything had been wiped
away except his love for himself. But there was lan-
guor andalight weariness inhis soul. He wished he
could bear himself on wings. He surrounded himself
with aswarm oftender mental kisses. Anotherworldly,
twisting flirtatiousness toward himself was even
aroused. He decided to buy himself flowers, to greet
himself like alover.
They were gentle, violet flowers. He took them
to a caf to drink a glass of wine and placed them
infront ofhimself. They seemed toembrace him inside
his circle ofI.He spent nearly half anhour inagentle,
foretokening lassitude. But the first clouds were al-
ready gathering. His blood was bubbling up and his
skin was shuddering from self-tenderness. Atthesame
time, visions were foretokened everywhere. His own
shadow quickly blocked outthewhole world, thewhole
sun. He wished he could stroke it quietly. Byaneffort
of will, Izvitsky controlled himself. His I-ness flared
upinbursts, asifsqueezed. Stepping aside, he saw his
eyes inthewall, eyes full ofnoble tears andaprayer.
Bending his knees slightly, in his mind, he entered
onthem, ashe would atemple.
Thefat lady atthecounter was behind ashroud.
223
You have tocalm down, he whispered tohim-

self. He started back tohis table, buthis entire being
trembled, unable to withstand the passion and lan-
guor. Darling, darling! he began murmuring, now
almost outloud. Alight sweat crossed his brow. He
sat back down.
Just so Idont touch myself, he whispered, sipping
thewine. IfIdo, Ill explode, Ill explode topieces.
But even the languid bite of the wine, without
making him drunk, only aroused arush oftenderness
forhis belly. His hand was so drawninasoft, almost
airy waytotouch theplace where thewines warmth
was singing.
Doggedly, he restrained himself. His eyes filled
with blood and the desire surged to rip open his
belly, pull everything out, and, trembling, kiss it
all. His balance was supported by his secret idea
of extending, drawing out the present pleasure. He
zoned outandfound himself foraminute inakind
ofemotional emptiness, thanks towhich he was able
towithstand thefirst rush.
Take it easy, you have totake it easy, he bab-
bled then, buthis tongue still trembled from desire.
You have to wrap yourself up in the quiet trifles
oflove foryourself.
He got up, went outside, andboarded ahalf-empty
streetcar, leaving theflowers onthetable, like asculp-
ture ofhis abortive orgasm. Thetrifles that staved
offtheend, constantly keeping him atthenecessary
224
THE SUBLIMES
level, were the various sighs and half-moans that

came from deep inside andthefuzzy outlines ofhis
own body in the windowand finally, the overall
sensation of his body-self. The nervous anticipation
of being pierced by the needle of destruction. Even
avisceral, inner laugh cossetted his belly with afan-
tastic, unbearable caress. Most of all, though, he
was afraid of touching his own body. A wild, lim-
itless, world-shattering tenderness for himself rose
tohis throat, entered his brain, andshuddered inhis
shoulders. Tears welled inhis eyes andhis lips quiv-
ered. The constant tenderness for himself made his
head spin and, at moments, sent him into a half-
swoon. Even feeling his upper lip touch his lower
aroused him.
Stop it, stop itandhe parted his lips, opening
his mouth ever so slightly.
Tocalm down, it was best toclose his eyes andsit
there without moving. Then, first of all, the world
was excluded, even formally, from his field ofvision,
which was abonus oftenderness forhimself. Secondly,
his inner tenderness forsome reason became tranquil
and, permeating his entire body with aquiet lassitude,
buried him asifinavessel. Each cell sang offathom-
less sympathy of love for himself, but there was no
insanity, no outburst, nor that laugh, all of which
were like frenzied, hysterical kisses tohis insides.
In this state, immobile, Izvitsky rode through
endless streets, until his necks special tenderness
225
began torturing him. His neck was very feminine,

with its I-ish little fat, andthrough it passed vessels
carrying blood tohis head, tohis consciousness. It
may have demanded this all-devouring tenderness be-
cause it was too defenseless from a knife blow, say.
Izvitsky couldnt stand it andtouched thesmoothest,
softest part ofhis necks nape. He jerked andnearly
cried out. It was nearly impossible tosit now. Izvitsky
quickly got offatanunfamiliar stop. Themurderous
attraction tohimself, thedesire tosink his teeth in,
toplunge his hands into himself, asifhe were thesole,
fathomless universe, blocked out his consciousness.
The change of setting revived him a little. Izvitsky
looked attheworld andall ofasudden he saw himself
walking straight toward him from around thecorner,
slightly hunched, with trembling hands and arms
wide open. He made adash forhimself, butrealized he
was already there. Thevision vanished, buttheworld
seemed filled with I-ness.
Zhenichka, Zhenichka, stop it, he said, trying
to calm himself. His mind clouded over and, for-
mally, he admitted he should go home, tohis hovel.
He made his way on foot, down a street filled with
the nonexistent. Parts of his own body floated
outfrom behind all thebuildings, bushes, andcars.
Voluptuous, bared, with mind-bogglingly transparent
skin, they looked like his own dear heart floating
through the world, a heart he wanted to kiss all
over. He reached outtowarm them with his hands,
226
THE SUBLIMES
thewarmth ofhis own palms. Kidder, flashed inhis

mind andhe grinned.
Finally, theobjects disappeared.
Except for the super-pampered, almost maidenly,
barely visible part ofhis inner thigh, which took along
time to disappear, as if begging for a kiss. It would
appear in building windows, then right in the sky.
Finally, it, too, disappeared.
Awhile passed intotal absence.
Then, all ofasudden, straight outofadark corner,
his own head poked out, its mouth wide open. It stuck
outits tongue andseemed towink its frozen eye.
Izvitsky realized that he shouldnt let himself
get sidetracked anymore, that this was asking for it.
As the saying goes, there can be too much of a good
thing. He managed tostop himself; he directed his love
toward his own Iasawhole.
Now he wholly sensed what was visible asacon-
tinuation of himself, or rather, as his own shadow:
the shadow of his own finite and unique individual-
ity. Only sometimes, as if from without, his unique,
no longer dismembered image would appear inahalo
and frequently in unearthly, vanishing colors. He
tried tocatch himself, only suddenly todiscover with
tenderness andjoyous horror thepresence ofhis own
dear Iinside, andhis chest would swell from theex-
orbitant, universal triumph. Thevisible was becoming
blacker and blacker, as if impenetrable night were
gripping it, butasunhis own Iwas beating inside
227
andfawning over itself all themore so. Inside, pure,

naked, ineradicable subjectivity howled. Izvitsky
sent kisses into theair, trying toinhale them. Afew
times he stopped tolean against atree.
The tenderness of his skin seeped into his blood,
spreading tohis heart andbrain. This tenderness was
so great, it seemed asthough this skin could peel away
as easily as a bit of fluff and appear before his eyes
intheair, where it could be squeezed andkissed like
achild without pain ormoan.
His languid eyes hurt from the needlessness
oftheworld that would occasionally surface.
He didnt notice that he was already home andlook-
ing outthewindow. Alight entered him like aplanet:
his dear, shining, unattainable I, mysterious, infinite,
and solely real amid this whole stirring garbage heap
of quasi-oblivion. He saw above his own head what
looked like astream ofstars, thetip ofhis immortal I,
departing his body as if from its warm bed. He was
drawn topenetrate this dear, spiritual Iwith his penis,
enveloping it inafountain ofsperm, drowning it inbliss
and a unique, shuddering caressbecause it was his
I.Andhe felt that this pure, detached I, this center, was
blazing from tenderness andresponding tohis caress.
Also wrapped inbliss, contracting andpulsing, was
his own individuality, his soul, dear andunique, myste-
riously anddelightfully connected tohis I.
His body shuddered, too, with theunending, in-
wardly penetrating shudder of self-love, because it,
228
THE SUBLIMES
too, his body, was also dedicated tohis I, asifsoaked

with its immortal I-spray. All thisthe pure I, his
soul and bodyinasmuch as they were his, com-
prised asingle, unique synthesis, anemanating howl
atthesummit ofwhich shone his eternal I.He didnt
understand whether he was praying orinanEcstasy
ofLove.
Somewhere over the edge, his transcendental
I, dear, covert, and gentle, flickered, an inscrutable
band; andablack andsuperhuman spume ofpounding
sperm seemed torush athim.
His soul uttered acry, asingle cry.
For seconds, he saw himself first approaching
outofthedark depth, then soaring inthesky, then
hurtling toward the stars, then voluptuously naked
and twisting. Suddenly, so near and dear that tears
practically mixed with blood fell from his eyes, his
soul shuddered, kissing itself. Forseconds, ashe fell
into oblivion, he felt his touch onhimself, especially
the gently rounded belly of his own body. His belly
sank inonitself andhis soul emerged andcame toward
him, rising, kissing thefeet ofthesupreme I, sending
delightful, fleshly waves ofself-love. Andinhis I, his
own dear I, ananswering moan ofthesame self-love
rang out, going deep inside, into infinity. Spume-
covered lips touched his own lips.
My darling, my darling, he whispered suddenly,
asifembracing his own back, andhis body collapsed
into itself, asifinto abottomless butdear abyss.
229
His self-feeling, caressing itself, howled from

pleasure.
Suddenly, somewhere, amonstrous, long, andkiss-
ing moan came forth, andthen astream, andhe saw
himself illuminated byalight both rising into thesky
andimmortally dear, never leaving him.
You will be eternal, beloved! he shouted atthesky.
Eternal.
Andexhausted, he fell tothefloor.
230
XVIII
After leaving everyone, Fyodor spent afew days with

Ipatievna andthen headed forMoscow. Even Klavenka
his sisterdidnt interest him anymore. His stony face
had shifted and, deep down, one could see an awful,
final inspiration. He cautiously avoided even quiet, in-
sinuating little girls.
The area of Moscow where Fyodor ended up was
ascharming asthefoot ofhell. Toone side, along thehills,
barracks clung toeach other, asifinanobscene, filthy
sexual caress. Thesmall trees buried inbetween seemed
to have gone mad long ago. To Fyodors left, identical
new box-houses advanced on the barracks in endless,
idiotically formed rows. This was spoiled Moscow, acor-
rupted district.
Fyodor took moderate pleasure in inhaling
the smells of perversion. He had come to the city
tofulfill his growing new desire: tokill all themeta-
physicals, i.e., Izvitsky, Anna, Padov, andRemin.
He had various addresses inhis pocket. His soul was
filled with abrain-killing, mesmerizing joy, andwhen
it cut through to his consciousness, he howled. He
howled, gazing atanoutside world that had been rocked
forhim, like aworld receding into thebeyond.
He boarded a streetcar headed to the far end
ofthebarracks and, dumbfounding theconductor with
231
his excessively deadly gaze, took aticket, stepped aside,

andate theticket ashe dimly surveyed theimpassable
gray space inthedistance.
Thereason forhis murderous desire was his mount-
ing, stormy need tobreak through totheotherworldly.
Or, inother words, toact inaccordance with his own
internal state, which apparently had no name inhuman
language. Themetaphysicals were theanswer tohis
mystery. Theres no one else butthem tokill, Fyodor
muttered, smiling tohimself. Therest are dead asis.
Still, he could express tohimself therealized part
of his state of mind only vaguely and awkwardly,
and there were gaps. (The rest was forever buried
to man.) He hazily thought that killing these highly
spiritual, one might even say spirit-filled people would
solve amystery, perhaps themystery ofthesouls ex-
istence, andinterrupt theworlds sleep andprecipitate
a shift into the beyond. This was whyhe had to do
it to it, to the spirit itself! Fyodor was so drawn
right now todo his own, Sonnov thing. This was what
thesacrifices were for. Ill be plunging my knife into
thevery soulthevery heart, Fyodor repeated. He en-
visioned something happening to him after this act,
something so significant andincredible that he would
find himself somewhere between worlds. Sometimes
at these visions, his head would turn upward, sky-
ward, cold drops of sweat would sink into his body,
and his eyes would well up with what was missing,
even atthebottom ofhis I.
232
THE SUBLIMES
He somehow still perceived the envelope of this

inner state, which was thebasic reason forhis desire
to destroy his unusual friends, but there was also
ablack series ofparallel, bizarre, latent, sometimes sec-
ondary sensations andeven emotions that went along
with his need.
Attimes, cursorily, inanincoherent, almost sub-
conscious form, he had thoughts of seeing suddenly,
during the killing itself, that the soul was an illu-
sion andall his activities were just aterrible pastime,
butinreturn, ahole would open uptoanother reality
andhe would see that his soul was merely adetected
field, a crumpled, twisted ray of some unfathomable,
almost incomprehensible, and unapproachable reality.
Andhe was only chasing shadows.
At times, to the contraryagain subconsciously,
lifting his previous feeling, butholding it insidearose
thegrandeur ofthis future killing, its supernatural sig-
nificance, andit seemed asthough this unprecedented
feeling could envelop any covert reality.
Simultaneously, more touching and even slightly
childish feelings swarmed his insides, as if winding
around everything awful, everything Sonnov. He was
overcome with emotion when he imagined Anna fall-
ing totheground andbeing smart inapool ofblood.
Aneven tenderer emotion came over him when he
imagined their corpses, which hitherto he couldnt gaze
upon without tenderness. Andhe had aforetaste ofhis
own, almost reverential, religious mood.
233
He saw himself inwhite.

Attimesinhis emotioneverything was blocked
outbyone thing: majesty andmore majesty.
Butall this was amere puff ofsmoke anddid not
block outthemain thing, theSonnov thing.
234
XIX
Fyodor rode in a streetcar, approaching a section

ofbarracks that was filthy, buthad some stunted veg-
etation. He needed to see a certain quiet person hed
known for a long time, immediately, on a practical
matter. From above, thestreetcar seemed tohave acir-
cle of meager houses with black holes instead of eyes
strewn around it, andfrom these holes emerged crum-
pled people, definitely not intheir right mind. Fyodor
got offatthesquare and, looking around atagnarled
pole, wandered toward a low-slung barrack. Clouds
roved theskies, like reflections ofhis thoughts.
Inthebarrack hallway, he was greeted byahowl,
an apocalyptic crash of plates hurled at rats,
andafrighteningly mute guffaw. Alittle girl mastur-
bating onahobby horse crept outofthekitchen. His
soul numb, Fyodor knocked atthefar door byadark
window. Theroom he entered was quite large; abald,
middle-aged man with an angular face and wearing
asweater greeted Fyodor delightedly, raising both his
heavy arms andjumping upfrom his chair.
Thethree other people sitting inthecorners didnt
move a muscle. Fyodor pushed the bald man aside
and sat down at the table, which was covered with
acloth aswhite asangels blood. Thebald man sat right
down next to him and, as if nothing had happened,
235
continued what hed been doing: throwing ahuge, sinis-

ter knife atthefloor. Alarge woman standing bythewall
stirred. Near her, apale little man played cards byhim-
self onthefloor, spitting atwill. Apowerfully sluggish
fellow with thinning hair andthelanguid, pimply face
of a murderer started going around to all the house-
plants on the windowsills, sniffing them attentively
and aloofly. Thus, some time passed. Fyodor floated
offinto infinity. Finally, thelarge woman walked over
tothetable with her hands folded onher chest, looked
atFyodor, andstarted laughing inawild, horsey voice.
Fyodor was suddenly embarrassed bythis flirting
and even blushed a little: at times, Sonnov could be
aspure andtimid asachild.
The woman looked at him steadily with her
sewery, butatthesame time amazingly bright, all-en-
compassing eyes. Another moment and she mightve
raped Fyodor. Even her breasts felt like weapons
of violence. But the powerfully sluggish man walked
over to her, cautiously put his paw on her shoulder,
andsaid something. Thewoman sat down onachair,
aiming her gaze at the half-garbage heap, half-glade
visible outthegray window.
Fyodor stood up, nodded at the door to the man
with themurderers face, andwalked toward theexit.
As he was passing, he stopped and, in an amiably
absent way, pulled thelarge womans nose.
The bald man was still throwing the knife
atthefloor.
236
THE SUBLIMES
Fyodor found himself outside the room with

themurderer, attheend ofthehallway, bythedark
window. They discussed something for seven or ten
minutes. Then Fyodor put his paw around themurder-
ers neck, waved, andwalked totheexit.
Abright, earthly world met him with kind, chirping
sounds andsky. Looking into thedistance, Fyodor began
to hobble toward the streetcar. Soon after, the street-
car was slowly rolling past the uniform house-boxes.
A filthy cry reached Fyodors hearing from far away.
Strangely enough, thesame stinking-eternal life stirred
here in these extremely close houses as in the bar-
racks. Butagainst this backdrop oftotal facelessness, it
seemed even more abnormal andlost. Thecontamina-
tion oftheboxes, which had only begun, lent certain
places individual nuances.
Finally, Sonnov reached theold part ofMoscow.
Fyodor got off at a small, deserted summer caf.
Sipping juice indifferently, he thought his own thoughts.
His thoughts went far, far away, into thetrans-existent;
his own consciousness felt lonely, slightly odd, and,
albeit his own, mysteriously unknown, like aMartian
wind; Fyodor actually thought ofhimself asaMartian
voyager. He indifferently pinched his legs, as if they
were a table. His state of mind was leading him on,
toward killing themetaphysicals. He had completely
discarded any thought ofouter consequences; he didnt
care what happened tohim afterward, whether they ar-
rested ordestroyed him; theonly thing that interested
237
him was this new, all-encompassing killing, his ulti-

mate achievement, after which everything on earth
would be third-rate andhe, himself, might well move
offinto anew form ofbeing; therefore, all theprecau-
tions hed taken when preparing forhis old and, asit
now seemed tohim, petty killings, were irrelevant.
Formally, he decided to use two addresses that
hed learned bychance, from conversations with Padov
and Anna: Izvitskys Moscow apartment, one-room
and neglected, where he lived alone; and the other,
Padovs nest just outside Moscow, where, as hed
heard, the metaphysicals should have taken shelter
right about now. Thelatter especially attracted Fyodor:
he was drawn to committing his act at once, with
a single blow. But after thinking it over, he decided
first towander over toIzvitskys andthen make adash
forthePadov nest.
Fyodor dragged himself inhumanly past the old
apartment buildings onthedeserted Arbat lanes. He kept
stopping togaze into theemptiness. He looked closely
at the barely apparent figures of people and squinted
atthewindows, which glimmered inindifference.
The entrance to Izvitskys apartment was on
a Petersburg-esque courtyard: small, cold, squeezed
between the hulks of seven-story stone buildings, yet
disgracefully andhideously befouled byadead, grayly
disappearing andnonetheless stinking garbage heap.
The stairs, with lifeless gaps on the sides, led
steeply up and through the service door, apparently.
238
THE SUBLIMES
Here and there he saw dirty, ripped-off apartment

doors and heard faint voices, but Fyodor knew this
was theonly way toIzvitskys room. He panted ashe
climbed, andhis eye kept catching thelight from what
were either windows or cracks; when there was total
darkness, he turned his head to the side at a barely
audible, soft command; his knife was absurdly loose
inhis pocket.
Finally, at the very top, a light shone through
acrack; thecold anddull trembling inhis heart told
Fyodor that this was Izvitskys apartment. A strange
languor came over him; there was sweat on his face,
butdeep inside he heard singing; objective reality rose
up inside him and he sensed what surrounded him
as death, the beyond. Fyodor saw that the door was
ajar and, asifpressing uptotheemptiness, he peeked
in. What he saw astonished him: acorner oftheroom
absurdly cluttered with half-old-timey, half-futuris-
tic things; an enormous mirror that seemed to pull
things into itself; infront ofit, aripped, Voltaire arm-
chair; and in that chair, Izvitsky, in a frenzied pose,
gazing athimself inthemirror. Fyodor shrank, sens-
ing theimpossible. Mechanically, he took outhis knife
andsuddenly he heard moans, deep, endless moans that
seemed toemanate from aself-enamored abyss. Fyodor
froze, staring atthereflection, andcouldnt move.
Izvitskys eyes, wide open, suffused with anawful
revelation that scared Izvitsky himself, point-blank,
unwavering, stared attheexact same wide open eyes
239
of his double. Fyodor had a good view of everything.

Izvitskys two faces shuddered in the ineffable caress
they flung ateach other; theskin ofhis face relaxed
intenderness; only his eyes, looking ateach other, about
tojump outoftheir orbits, were still, andinthem froze
aself-tenderness, ahorror before theI, andtheinsan-
ity ofthesuperhuman cataclysm. Izvitskys face andhis
entire half-naked body expressed anever-ending sensu-
ality, theraving ofself-ecstasy, andafear ofhimself, all
mingled with awe attheimpending orgasm andanim-
pulse tofling himself athis own reflection. His hair was
tousled; his hand reached forhis double and, when they
met, the two hands trembled from arousal, prepared
topenetrate themselves anddrown each other inten-
derness. His entire body seemed tobe gushing sperm
andshuddering inacontinuous, spontaneous orgasm,
as if all his skin, each of its millions of pores, had
turned into thetip ofapenis. Themoans from thetwo
faces moved toward each other. The mirror was cold
andimperturbable, like theworld. From thecorner, it
reflected the terrible portrait of Dostoevsky, his fixed
gaze full ofsuffering.
All of a sudden, Izvitsky rushed toward himself,
into theabyss; his face fell onits own reflection andhis
body bent over; lips twitched andstarted kissing lips;
awhisper crept through thewhole space: my darling,
my darling, my love; a nervous shudder of sensual-
ity passed over his damp cheek; his eyebrows curved
as if a sick angel had run an invisible hand across
240
THE SUBLIMES
them; and his eyes were closed like a corpse in a fit

ofpassion. From behind, Fyodor had agood view ofhis
sensuous neck nervously trembling, sweating, curving
atevery little fold. Atthat moment, Fyodor instinctively
moved toplunge his knife into that neck, butsuddenly
anincredible, infinite languor overtook andparalyzed
him. At the thought of interrupting this inexpress-
ibly sensuous, gentle, infinitely swimming-in-itself act
ofself-love, pity struck him like thunder. He had never
experienced even aweak semblance ofthat kind ofpity
foranyone, even himself.
Assoon ashe understood theessence ofwhat was
happening before him, it felt like amiracle, anexplosion;
ifIzvitsky had been romping with alover orsomeone
else, Fyodor would have put an end to both of them
without asecond thought, butkilling aman who loved
himself so much, who loved ferociously, to the point
of derangement, to tearsthat would mean interrupt-
ing alife that was monstrously self-in-love, representing
foritself not only asupreme value, butalso anabsolute.
Who could raise ahand against that? All this flashed
through Fyodors brain inaflash, inasingle compre-
hensive thought; he couldnt kill a being that loved
itself so ferociously and pathologically. That would
mean touching something new, unprecedented, pain-
fully otherworldly, andtoo super-dear forhimself.
Fyodor imagined how horrifically unimaginable it
would be for this being to say good-bye to his dear,
infinite self, if only for a moment, especially in that
241
moment of ferocious orgasm for himself; he imagined

that, dying, this person would lick his own blood, like
sperm, like flowing pleasure, andcry tears that would
turn theworld upside down.
Meanwhile, the knife flashed in Fyodors hand
and reflected in the depth of the mirror, near
the Dostoevsky portrait. But Izvitsky, swallowed
upwith passion forhimself, didnt notice. Like ahuge,
otherworldly toad, he crept over the mirror, trying
to embrace his own reflection. Fyodor shuddered
anddropped theknife into his pocket, frightened byits
murderous touch; now he feared interrupting this out-
rageous act, even for a second. Afraid of himself, his
own unexpected outburst and a possible blow against
this shuddering body, he inched backward and qui-
etly passed unnoticed through thedoor. He stood there
without stirring foracouple ofminutes, breathing into
thestone. Then, stealthily looking around attheempti-
nesses, he started down thedark stairs.
Suddenly, from theroom hed just leftthedoor was
ajar Fyodor heard a cold, abstract, inhuman laugh
that seemed tocome from theenormous, unimaginably
ripped armchair. The memory of this laugh haunted
Fyodor totheend ofhis journey down theentire dark
staircase, with its endless turns andgaps. Evidently, it
was all over andIzvitsky was relaxing, gazing athim-
self inthemirror.
Distinguishing nothing, frothing, Fyodor ran outside.
Buthis previous, omnipotent state ofmindforkilling
242
THE SUBLIMES
those incredible individuals hed metdid not leave him.

All ofhim howled atthecontradiction. This was incom-
parably more important than the break with Mikhei,
whom he didnt even pity. This was another terrible,
profound break; his own otherworldliness had been
countered by another, no less powerful otherworldli-
ness, whose fluids penetrated him. Inarage, Fyodor
decided to rush on straightaway and leave Moscow
proper forPadovs nest, inorder tocatch them all
Padov, Anna, andReminandcarry outhis intention
atlong last.
243
XX
Alyosha Khristoforov had not been himself for sev-

eral days now because his papa, his dear papa, had
gone missing. Indeed, Alyosha, whom Padov had had
so much trouble finding, soon after went to aban-
doned Lebedinoye tocollect Andrei Nikitich. Atfirst,
all went well. Alyosha did have trouble, but found
the lifeless cock-corpse in an out-of-the-way spot,
onthestove-bench; holding his hand, like adead idol,
Alyosha managed to lead him to the Sonnov house,
where only thefilthy cat remained, which, not finding
Mikheis empty place, was licking posts. Alyosha put his
papa tobed beside him, onthenearby couch, though
thecock-corpse appeared tofight theair limply. Matters
were further complicated inthemorning, when Andrei
Nikitichs impatient followers, whom Andrei Nikitich
had taught in the spirit of Christianity and univer-
sal love, were supposed tocome, anxious asthey were
over Andrei Nikitichs long absence. Naturally, Alyosha
had no hope of any communication; he realized this
immediately from the cock-corpses lifelessly arrogant
face, which didnt even hold senselessness, and from
his absolute silence. He didnt even try totell his father
what was wrong; all his thoughts were aimed atsome-
how outfoxing and scaring off the young Christians
thirsting for salvation. Making matters even worse,
244
THE SUBLIMES
the young people already suspected something was

wrong andpresumed Alyosha was hiding his father, so
they were feeling quite bellicose.
Early inthemorning, Khristoforov was awakened
byabastardly brazen knock atthedoor; hastily, wear-
ing just his nightshirt, he opened the door and was
struck dumb. Before him were several of Andrei
Nikitichs followers.
What did you want totalk tohim about? Alyosha
said clumsily.
What do you mean? one of the youths said, af-
fronted. Our theme: God is love. Weve been waiting
forthis conversation fortwo months.
At that moment, far back in the hall, the cock-
corpses disgraceful dead face appeared foraninstant;
the youths joyfully shouted something, but Alyosha,
frightened and desperate, dazedly slammed the door
infront ofthem. Theyouths let upahowl andAlyosha
rushed tohis papa, who wasnt reacting towhat was
going on, utterly oblivious toeverything around him.
Alyosha rushed back to the door the youths were
pounding on. A noisy, psychopathic scene played out,
bringing nearly all the inhabitants running from
theyard, andatousled Alyosha beat his chest. Once ev-
erything was relatively calm, Alyosha rushed tosee his
father, butthecock-corpse was nowhere tobe found
not inthebuilding andnot inthesurrounding area.
Apolice search didnt help. Inaclamor, Alyosha rushed
around Moscow, from one priest toanother, from one
245
friend toathird. Finally, learning that thePadovites

had gone back totheir old nest, twenty kilometers from
Moscow, Alyosha hurried there, expecting to learn
something about his father from Padov andAnna.
ThePadovites nest sheltered ontheedge ofaset-
tlement, near a fairly deserted road. It was a small,
one-story house, crooked andtilting, covered with some-
thing that was either grass orbushes. Thehouse had
just one big room, butthere were various outbuildings
nearby; one window had been knocked out slantwise;
asecond had been blocked upforsome reason.
Khristoforov positively flew into thehouse; theroom
was dark andtwo candles shone onthepeople sitting
on the floor: Padov, Remin, Anna, Igoryok, and two
others, Sashenka andVadimushka, very young novices
Padov had brought in order to foster young growth.
Their almost childish pink faces had relaxed from de-
light in the murky candlelight. Apparently, someone
had just been wailing. At the same time, the words
ofafamous schizoid song were heard:
Andseeing himself intheportrait, my goat picked
uptheclap
Without stopping to take a breath, Khristoforov
started shouting, My father! Ive lost my father! Papa!
Thecock-corpse? Padov said sleepily.
Not thecock-corpse! My father! Alyosha shrieked,
approaching thewall.
All right, calm down, tell us about it, Remin
mumbled.
246
THE SUBLIMES
TheLord lost his Heavenly Father, too, forawhile,

butlater, they say, he found Him, Anna put in, unable
torestrain herself.
A few minutes later, in some strange, incom-
prehensible way, the conversation about the loss
ofthecock-corpse jumped toGod.
Idont accept it! Idont! Padov screeched. Idont
want tobe created; Iwant tobe theCreator ofmyself;
ifthere is aCreator, then Iwant todestroy that depen-
dence andnot piss andmoan over it ecstatically.
Anna got upfrom thecorner; her face was burning.
Our creatureness may be anillusion; this, ines-
sence, is faith. One can say forsure only that we dont
seem toknow where we came from; therefore, we have
the right, just as you who believe in the Creator do,
to believe in the ideafor this is preferable to us
that we come from ourselves and dont owe our life
toanyone butourselves. All inIandall forI!
ButKhristoforov was already stamping his feet.
Idont want tohear this. Give me back my father!
He dashed around theroom like ashadow, from corner
to corner, scattering some rags lying on the floor;
Sashenka andVadimushka, their jaws dropped like two
young jackdaws, watched him curiously.
Youre the ones who drove my father crazy!
Khristoforov shouted. Before you, he was quiet
andabeliever, andyou made anidiot ofhim.
Such are our Christians, Padov sniggered, doubled
over from avisceral delight. Latched onto rationalism
247
right away. Madman Sick man Medicine Where

are thedoctors? he taunted. Buthe doesnt get it that
doctors arent even inthepicture.
Youve hit thenail onthehead, Remin chimed
in. All this pseudo-Christianity is too rational
forour consciousness. Ultimately, its just not absurd
enough forus.
Idont want tohear this! Khristoforov screamed.
You turned my father into anidiot.
If, of course, you call anyone not in this world
anidiot, Igoryok squeaked inreply.
They finally calmed Khristoforov down, at which
point he burst into sobs. Forgive me, he mumbled
awkwardly.
You do see, Alyosha, that this has nothing todo
with us. Anna was moved. Who knows what might
happen toany ofus?
But we still believe in our I, in its immortality
andvictory over theworld, Remin interjected heatedly.
Theres nothing else tobelieve in, let alone tolove.
Whats happened to you? Khristoforov said,
asifsuddenly waking upfrom his grief. You havent
become Glubevites, have you?
He was half-right.
After he left Lebedinoye, Remin had rushed toseek
outameeting with theGlubevites andultimately found
who hed been looking for. He spent afew days intheir
company andwent from there toPadovs nestwhere
Anna (after her story with Izvitsky) had already
248
THE SUBLIMES
been joyfully welcomedtransformed, disheveled,

andgripped bya surge offaith inthereligion ofI.
Here he had infected everyone with his rapture; this
outburst was probably just what theyd been waiting
for, orelse too much love fortheIandtoo great athirst
forits eternity andimmortality had built upintheir
souls. Even Padov, asmuch ashis powers andcapabili-
ties allowed, had tamed his negative forces.
So Khristoforov had put his finger on it.
At the mention of the religion of I, Anna, Padov,
Remin, and even Igoryok let up a howl, putting
theyouths, Sashenka andVadimushka, who were sit-
ting side byside, ontheir guard.
Staggering, Remin moved toward the window.
Thedistorted light picked outhis white face; something
seemed tomove inthecorners, buttheold vodka bot-
tles andmessy rags onthefloor were lifeless.
Our Iis thesole reality andthesupreme value,
Remin began. One must not only believe in its im-
mortality and absoluteness, one must not only love
ones own I with an infinite spiritual love, but one
must attempt torealize this supreme Iinlifetolive
it, to experience pleasure from it, to turn every-
thing around one hundred eighty degreesand then
theworld will be transformed into aflock ofshadows.
Everything creaturelike and independent in us will
vanish, andGodthat concept makes sense only ifits
not distinct from theI Remin was gasping forbreath.
Tolive intheI, tolive bythenew spirituality.
249
It felt as if everyone was rushing about inside

themselves, toward themselves, as if Annas hands
were stretching upward, andtheair seemed totremble
from these secret desires andthis outburst ofsalvation.
Khristoforov alone was grimly silent.
Glancing quickly athim, Anna suddenly felt anor-
ganic superiority; unable to contain herself, bending
over slightly, so this feeling ofsuperiority, its trembling,
would run through her entire body, she sat down next
toKhristoforov andtenderly stroked his hand; he had
thefeeling that somewhere behind him, inthecorner,
asewer rat was starting tokeen.
One detail, Alyosha. One detail, Anna whispered,
plunging Khristoforov into her eyes. Iwant totell you
about thedelectation ofsolipsism. Moreover, this is aspe-
cial, unusual solipsism. So you see, Alyoshashe stroked
Khristoforovyou will never know, you understand
never, what apleasure it is toconsider yourself not just
thecenter oftheworld, butthesole existing thing. There
is nothing elseashadownot even ashadow. Its asifit
werent there. What ecstasy this is, what self-affirmation.
No brilliance or devotion can compare. Only think, get
used toit, face this fact: there is nothing butme, myself.
Annas nostrils started trembling sensitively from plea-
sure. Khristoforov winced in disgust. What ecstasy
this is! What a mystery! What an embrace! The feeling
oftheworld disappearing before thesun ofmy I! Nothing
butmyself! You have tofeel this inits entirety, with every
cell, every minute ofexistence, live andtremble atthis.
250
THE SUBLIMES
Themore absurd theabsurd is, thetruer. After all, my

Iis above everything, andit doesnt give adamn. Phooey
totheworld, theIis everything.
Padov was shaking from ecstasy; in the dust
and shadows of this strange, huge room, he crept
toward Anna andKhristoforov.
Solipsismwhat a word. Padov sniggered viscer-
ally. Really, Annulya, theres something slimy, secret,
andtwisted intheword itself. Sexual even.
Anna started laughing.
I can just imagine. Two solipsists in bed, he
and she. Anna winked at Padov. Not bad: love be-
tween two big fat solipsists.
Padov let up a howl and reached out to her with
both hands. Sister! Smacking his lips, he made this
twisting sexual phrase all syrupy: Big fat solipsist!
Khristoforov jumped up. He couldnt take it any-
more. Thepicture ofkissing solipsists rose before him
like a nightmare. He forgot he had ever loved Anna
and was gripped by a purely transcendental horror.
Pushing away astool, Khristoforov headed fortheexit.
What about your dear papa! Padov screamed
after him.
ButKhristoforov had already slammed thedoor. He
was greeted byrain, wind, andahiding sun.
Meanwhile, inPadovs nest, themystery ofthebelief
inIcontinued, fired upover their bared souls.
Buttheold, dark forces ofopposition andresigna-
tion suddenly revived inPadov.
251
Gentlemen! he announced. Its good, youre as-

piring totheimmortal, eternal Ithat is inyou. There
are different Is in a person. The whole problem is
which Iyoure aspiring to! There is anIonthelevel
oftheBrahmin, aGod initself, anAbsolute; there is
anIonthelevel ofdivinities; there is, finally, apseu-
do-I, theego, anillusion, andthere is another Lets
just sayIm not arguingbut you may find, say,
within the confines of Hinduism, the correct path
tothesupreme I, apath totheGod who is inside you
andwho is indistinguishable even from theBrahmin,
from theAbsolute; andsay this supreme Iofyours, this
God, does turn outtobe your genuine, real I, atwhich
point thedetested alienation oftheIfrom God will fall
away and the duality will collapse. Or maybe youll
arrive atthis eternal Iwithin thelimits oftheGlubev
religion, which is even more radical than Hinduism
andwhich follows somewhat different paths. Maybe
Butlook: what ifIwant tosend it all into theAbyss
this I, and absolute reality, and Nirvana, and God,
and even the God who is in me and who is my su-
preme IifIwant toreject all that? What would you
say? Of course, this is all wonderful, as is immor-
tality, human longing, and hope. But I hear the call
of an abyss. Not only that, Im an eternal negativist,
adenier. Finally, another point: what ifanother prin-
ciple appears? Remin started laughing bythewindow.
So what do you propose? he began. What?
TheAbyss? That could drive you mad! Themain thing is
252
THE SUBLIMES
that love does exist, love forthis eternal Iofyours! After

all, your love forit, your striving topossess it inall its
eternitythats what this is about! Its more than likely
you dont have atotal, definitive love foryour supreme
I, ifyoure drawn bysenseless abysses orsimple denial.
No, no, everything has tobe aimed atwhat you love,
atyour own immortal I: your faith, your impulse, your
metaphysical knowledge, all of it. And then, utilizing
ancient methods, knowledge, and meditation, we can
plainly and practically acquire eternity; all the cur-
tains will come crashing down and the otherworldly
will cease tobe otherworldly.
Suddenly, there was a rustling and a squeak,
andoutfrom behind atorn, ragged table crawled young
Sashenka. His lips were quivering. He didnt really
understand the main thread of this conversation,
ofcourse, forhis thoughts moved only inone direction.
What ifyou dont have thepatience? he shouted
inaninhumanly shrill voice. What ifyou dont have
thepatience? I, forone, cant do this anymorewait
for death and whats there, behind the curtain! My
nerves are shot. Rip it, rip that curtainmake it obvi-
ous, so that everyone has access, not just thefewso
the then-perceptible otherworldly world becomes or-
dinary, apart ofour very selves! he exclaimed, his
whole body shaking.
So thebarrier comes crashing down So every-
thing merges together And then, theninwardly
it was as if he rejoicedeverything will change.
253
Humanity will be freed from all earthly nightmares;

famine, war, and fear of death will lose their mean-
ing; andtheprison ofthestate will collapse, forit is
powerless before thespiritual world. Everything will
be overturned.
Whoa, someone got carried awayAnna smiled
into alittle social theory. Well, write that offtoyouth.
You could organize aparty called Beyond theGrave. Its
program andgoal: torip thecurtainwith all theen-
suing consequences. After all, upuntil now everyones
been trying to do the opposite, Sashenka, to protect
humanity from knowledge of the otherworldly. Im
afraid your impulse would lead to the replacement
of earthly nightmares with other, more fundamental
ones. Actually, it all makes sense.
But no one reacted to all her mumbling and ev-
eryone defended andexcused theyoung one; not only
Sashenkas excessive outburst, buthis very appearance:
still aboy, with wandering eyes aimed attheunknown,
elicited ineveryone avision oftheir own beyond.
Theair was again filled with inscrutable, hysteri-
cally inspired ghosts andaguffaw that was viscerally
otherworldly, as if barking at itselfPadovs guffaw.
All this intermingled with currents and spasms
oflove fortheI, with apathological desire toself-as-
sert in eternity, and with a vision of ones own
Iinthehalo oftheAbsolute.
It was just the time not to make room
butthesoul somehow put upwith it all. Only Sashenka
254
THE SUBLIMES
andVadimushka suddenly couldnt stand it andasked

togo home. Igoryok led them outthegates.
The individual must accept the burden of birth
and the burden of the beyond! he shrieked to them
inparting.
Vadimushkas face was even alittle joyful.
Night was falling. Only Padov, Anna, and Remin
were left inthenest. Igoryok, too, had gone.
255
XXI
Fyodor observed all this through his crack. There were

so many nearby niches inPadovs nest that it was no
trouble tokeep watch nearby, inanticipation.
Wipe them out; theyre beyond our grasp They
have to be wiped out, Fyodor had mumbled as he
made his way down thedarkening path toward Padovs
building that evening, climbing inawindow andpass-
ing through various holes. His soul led him on, into
the beyond; every tree swaying in the wind looked
like a scarf waved from the other world; every ledge
and every object seemed to wink its torturedly inhu-
man eyes without moving. Fyodor thought ofAnna, her
laugh andsmile; he thought about Padovs metaphysical
jerking. Grinning, he recalled Remins poem about him.
The previously described stormy discussion be-
tween theinhabitants andKhristoforov slowly entered
into his soul. Safely sheltered close by, he took his time,
waiting for his moment. Annas disemboweled belly
floated inhis imagination, andher cry, too: I I I
Toeternity! Eternity! He imagined Remins poetic little
head, perfectly still inself-love, cut offandvainly trying
tokiss itself with its tongue. Aball. Make it asoccer
ball! Fyodor muttered furiously, clutching the door-
jamb. He saw himself intheclearing infront ofPadovs
nest, wearing just a tee-shirt and no pants, sweatily
256
THE SUBLIMES
chasing Remins dead head, asifit were asoccer ball.

Aball, make it asoccer ball, he keened. Andkick it,
kick it through thegoalposts ofeternity.
Padov was a special matter; Fyodor just wanted
to strangle him with his bare hands, as he looked
into themans eyesso awheeze would issue not only
from his red mouth, butalso from his soul, his night-
marish soul, filled with unimaginable horror, asking
itself pathologically unanswerable questions. He imag-
ined himself covered with that soul, like ablack veil,
and running out of the building like a bull, blind
onward, onward, into theunknown!
Fyodor did not experience all this in words,
but in inexpressible thought-states, understanding it
all inhis own way. Like anenormous idol, he shifted
back andforth, nearly hopping, listening tothewheeze
andmuttering inthenext room.
Gradually, though, a languid and otherworldly
unction enveloped his soul. He began tothink hed par-
tially found what he was looking forinthevery souls
ofthemetaphysicals, intheir existence. He squinted
stinkily at every word Padov aimed at the main
thing. This contact gave him almost thesame feeling
askilling did.
Unexpectedly, it slightly diminished his desire
to kill; on the other hand, the desire mounted
andstrengthened even more specifically, so he could
resolve the paradox and realize himself no matter
what happened.
257
Fyodor cautiously heeded this on-rushing contradic-

tion and shuddered slightly, afraid of failure; but then
he felt that the dead joy from the Padovites existence
would only lead tothedesire foranidentical, buteven
more morbidly supreme joy from killing them (one ten-
sion being replaced byanother, even more catastrophic).
Still, he couldnt shake the temptation to keep
onfeeling them alive; because no matter what they said,
especially now, for some reason, before their impend-
ing deaths, he continued to sense them as something
otherworldly but present among the living; and there
was nothing more otherworldly than toturn them into
the otherworldly, that is, kill them; in part that was
how Fyodor wouldve liked tosee thewhole world.
Butonly inpart. Even here, thecurtain still had
tobe ripped.
Meanwhile, Fyodor heard Sashenka and Vadimushka
leave; Igoryok, too; and Khristoforov had fled even
earlier.
This brought the practical implementation of his
plan closer: it wouldve been hard to kill so many
people, even in a sophisticated way. Now there were
only three left: Anna, Padov, andRemin. Butthey were
themain ones. Andnight was falling.
Fyodors soul cast about, in search of an appro-
priate death. At first, it occurred to him to burn
them alive atnight, asthey slept, when visions were
rising totheir throatsespecially since there was hay
nearby, inashed.
258
THE SUBLIMES
Fire! Fire! Right now, that suited his soul.

The drawback to this method was that he couldnt
gaze into their dying eyes andsate himself with their
looks. Therefore, it made sense to use an axealso
while they slept. Ultimately, after killing thefirst two
atonce, he would kill just onebetter Padov! He could
caress him, start aconversation with him, even kiss
him before themurder.
Fyodor didnt know which tochoose.
Meanwhile, Anna, Remin, and Padov were alone
intheroom. Forthemost part, they were silent, each
inadifferent corner; occasionally muted moans, sighs,
andfragmentary words skipped between them.
Anna stood up and, like a pale, self-filled ghost,
walked over tothewindow todrink. Remin was wail-
ing softly: hed seen his own, dear Ileaving his body
and wandering in divided worlds. His I glowed with
anunprecedented I-ish light, expanding like astar, like
the Universeand all the wild, imaginable monsters
vanished, dissolving inits rays. His I, identical topure
spirit, kept expanding andthere was no end toits tri-
umph. Butwas this thelimit?
Fyodor stirred silently inthenext room; he could
feel these states ofmind breathing; he hefted thebig,
rusty ax.
Only eternity! Eternity! Padov exclaimed, reach-
ing outtoward himself andtheheavens.
It was asifthebarriers onthepath totrans-human
consciousness had come down.
259
Though he wasnt sure why, Sonnov waited, hold-

ing theax.
Anna wept inher corner.
She was pierced bygnostic pity forherself; inform,
Anna actually saw her Iatleast outwardlyinamore
human guise; she was a little girl roaming in an in-
scrutable hell-heaven, alittle girl playing hide-and-seek
with theUnattainable.
Immortality! Immortality! Right now! Anna
moaned, lying ontheboards oftherusty bed, which
leaned upagainst some iron rods. Her hair was swept
around andthere was foam onher lips. She seemed
about tosurrender tothis immortality, ifonly tosuck
it into herself.
My darling, my darling, she babbled, knowing not
where she rested her gaze.
There it is, floating among thestars, buthere
on earthits just sitting on a bench And that
is holy.
Immortality! Immortality! she howled and, trying
toembrace andkiss her own I, she extended her spiri-
tual hands from her own consciousness toher own self.
Occasionally, her eyes rolled back from the un-
attainable happiness and her mind clouded over
from the desire to objectivize her love for herself.
She thought shed go mad trying toexpress her love
for her own I; she would jump off the bed, scream
like a Martian monster, and run outside, knowing
not what she reached outtoward.
260
THE SUBLIMES
Fyodor listened closely toevery moan andmumble

ofthemetaphysicals; once again, he felt like coming
into contact with them, listening to their conversa-
tions, andfully sensing theliving Padovites.
But the moans grew softer and softer. Evidently,
their inner storms were dying down. The silence
became increasingly palpable, even spiritual. Neither
Padov norRemin norAnna made asingle sound.
Fyodor waited stubbornly. The night deepened
andthedarkness inhis corner soon became such that
he felt it as an object. In the middle of the night,
Fyodor could tell that his favorites had fallen asleep.
Now, both practically andtothepoint, there was
no reason todelay.
But in defiance of fate, he felt like waiting.
Thedesire even arose inhim towake them up, drink
alittle tea, look into their little eyes, andtalk without
giving himself away. And then, when they fell asleep
again, kill them. Cautiously, he went outinto thesmall
hallway; Padov, Anna, andRemin were nearby, behind
theglass door, which was ajar.
Fyodor stepped inaudibly, like a flying bear. He
tasted thebreakthroughtotheotherworldlywith his
wide open snout. He breathed inaudibly, asiftohigh-
light his solitude. He held the ax, which was being
tugged grimly toward thedoor. Thewalls fell still, re-
ceding into nonexistence.
Fyodorwith all his consciousnesslistened toRe-
min, who was sleeping next tothedoor, breathe. Where,
261
inthis terrible moment, did thesleeping man see his

eternal I?
Fyodor was irritated by the transitions ephem-
eralness: one blowin these moments he could be
inhumanly strong anddeftandthats all she wrote.
Again, the desire blazed up in his soul to wake
atleast Remin, so he would sit upinbed andconverse,
right before death, topat him onthecheek.
Finally, though, Fyodor made uphis mind. Killing
might well solve more than contact could. His gaze
grew heavy, asifhe faced his own death.
Nonetheless, he wanted to have a little deathbed
conversation within himself, the other way around.
He was immediately drawn tototal solitude, tospend
just ten minutes alone in a garden and then quickly
come back to pull the curtain. He clenched his fists,
simply cheered bytheawareness that his decision was
now tantamount toaction, andwent outtospend some
timeinsolitudeinthegarden.
It was already beginning togrow light, andtheair
was clear andmoist. He walked along thefence, admir-
ing his own shadow asasymbol.
Suddenly, three men emerged through a big hole
inthefence behind him. They had weapons. Their ap-
pearance was incomprehensible. Youre under arrest,
one ofthem said.
262
Epilogue
A few weeks later, two youths wandered down one

of Moscows curving lanes in a halo of startling
auras: one was thin and tall, with a transcenden-
tally expectant, impatient face; the other was shorter
and curly-headed, as if intermeshed with himself.
Sashenka andVadimushka. Theeyes ofempty window
were ontheother side oftheir existence. Thefriends
were ontheir way toasmall, disjointed, absurd beer
stand that hid alone, between a square and a garage.
Tanyas old friend Vitya, oftheitinerant philosophers,
was waiting forthem there.
Sashenkas face was burning.
Does a great future really await us? he said.
Immortality, encounters with spiritsthecurtain fall-
ingthe farewell to man and the appearance of new
worlds Is that really all going tobe?
Hee, hee. And this after all the stupid, idioti-
cally dead hammering on I did as a kid about how
theres nothing after death, Vadimushka sniggered.
Now theprospects are staggering. Not bad. Achange,
toput it mildly.
ButSashenka wasnt listening tohim.
AndIm convinced, he continued inawhisper,
trembling from excitement, that posthumous real-
ity should be anobject ofknowledge, not faith. Thats
263
how we bring it closer tous. ToVadimushka, Sasha

seemed tobe squeezing his own fingers convulsively
andswallowing thedrool ofdesire. Faith should be
extended to something more abstractunattainable
almost.
Suddenly, they saw ahole inthebeer stand. Are-
strained Vitya smiled, baring his teeth, andwaved atthem
from deep inside. They walked up. Vityas look was pure
and nastily transparent, like the backside of a corpse.
They had theusual beer. Afly crawled ontheoutside
of the clouded window, looking bigger than the apart-
ment buildings. They started talking about avisit toone
oftheunderground metaphysical groups.
What about your contacts with Padov and Co.?
Vitya asked finally.
Its been great. Just great. I cant tell you how
great. Ifeel like Im atthebeach! Vadimushka shouted,
nearly frightening theinvalids inthecorners.
Thats great that its great, Vitya replied, sur-
prised. But, well, Ithink you put too much emphasis
onjoy. Thats far from thestrongest feeling thePadov
world can evoke. It is fairly gloomy, after all.
Suddenly, Vadimushka exploded. He actually
grabbed Vitya byhis jacket button.
You have to understand, Viktor, he mumbled.
Weve just come from a completely different world.
Vadimushkas face suddenly contorted indisgust. Do
you know what theaverage, even more than that, Id
say thesimply human consciousness is? Im prepared
264
to accept the Devil, the underworld, the sufferings
of hell, the most refined evil, only not this. After
all, this is theeternity ofinsignificance, azero thats
become a rattle, a direction were absolutely opposed
to, ultimately.
Viktor shrugged, indicating that this was obvious.
Everything theyve done, Vadimushka contin-
ued, the official history, so to speak, rather than
the spiritual or esoteric history of humanity, none
of that is ours. Its qualitatively different, baser.
Especially compared to the new born-again elite
or caste, if you like, inside humanity, the spirito-
cratic caste. Another, higher realityanother world.
Not their bedbugs, all those Napoleons andDarwins.
Im young andthats what Ifeel.
If so, Sashenka interjected, then we have
todefend ourselves from them. Theintelligentsia could
be our earthly armor. If only their better part would
accept theidea ofaspiritocracy. Incrude terms, aspir-
itocracy could play the role of the ancient Egyptian
priests, and a self-aware intelligentsia that finally
takes its place atthehead ofhumanity, after long years
of subservience to other peoples ideas, would be like
theearthly envelope ofthespiritocracy, its outward de-
fense, its second estate.
Viktor burst outlaughing.
Well, well. Dont get too carried away byall that,
he interrupted. Our task is to move away from hu-
manity, not define our place inside it. Even ruling over
265
them would demean you, since youd have some con-

tact with them.
They drank another turbid, quasi-well-meaning
beer. The drunks dropped their bottles on the floor
asthey left.
Well, hows thebeer? Vitya smiled.
His insides feel all warm, like the grave
of the Angel, Vadimushka whimpered. Thats what
Annulya said recently
Wheres Padov now? We havent seen him foragood
five days, Sashenka asked.
Hes inabad way, avery bad way. Vitya frowned.
Isaw him yesterday inthis lair Iknow. He was look-
ing at his face in the mirror, or rather, at himself,
his inner selfand laughing Laughing wildly, like
he was detached from himself. It even reached his eyes
in a wooden sort of way. They reviewed a few other
states ofmind. Suddenly Sashenka mentioned Fyodors
name. Everyone knew him well from Padovs stories.
Hes traveling somewhere right now, in some
beyond. Vitya sighed.
Hes playing cat-and-mouse with the Lord now.
Amiracle worker, Vadimushka added, copying Anna,
who he was already practically inlove with.
Theyd also heard about therecently concluded trial
against Fyodor, which was held in a miserable, filthy
district court. It turned outthat thepolice had picked
upSonnovs trail around mid-summer, buttheyd been
confirming thedetails. When they had everything nailed
266
THE SUBLIMES
down, they picked him up. Thetrial, forsome reason,

was quiet, conciliatory, unseeing in a way, but strict
and detailed. Fyodor was accused of murder for rea-
sons ofrowdiness andsentenced toexecution. Sonnov
was a blank at the trial. He greeted his death with
utter calm, butalso unfeigned interest. Apparently, he
was practically smiling on the way to his execution.
He did manage to send the Padovites his highest re-
gards, along with anote explaining how hed observed
them andplanned tokill them. Inreply, onher part,
Annulya found away tosend him apackage: Mishka
candies, cookies, and a cake. Fyodor sometimes had
asweet tooth. She also sent him her wish that he get
through this formalist farce called death quickly.
The friends stood up from the beer-stand tables.
They drank their last swallows for Fyodor and went
outinto therain andmud. Aslanting downpour was
washing away all theremnants ofurban oblivion. Vitya
parted from theyouths atthecorner.
Vadimushka and Sashenka decided to stop
by Izvitskys, since they hadnt seen him in a long
time andlegends were circulating about him. Thetwo
were met bythesame gloomy, gray, Petersburg-esque
apartment building andastaircase that seemed tolead
toheavenly sex. Zhenichka greeted them with acon-
cealed grin, but he was reserved, as if he had no
time forthem. Vadimushka andSashenka understood
immediately. Every cell in Izvitsky was trembling
with love forhimself. He carried himself relentlessly,
267
like a black god in love with himself. His things

thecrummy armchair, theantique chests ofdrawers
and chairsseemed to revolve around him, plung-
ing Izvitsky into profound comfort. His look was
gloomyat least toward the outside worldbut co-
vertly satisfied, with anendless desire toshut himself
upineternity. Thedark delight that could be discerned
inhis face hid itself inhim. Delightsecret andend-
lessburned atevery point, butespecially inhis eyes,
which went from dark to light and back at his wild
andcovert metaphysical pleasure. Vadimushka could
tell that Izvitsky had turned every minute, every
touch ofhimself, into sex, asifhis body had become
his eternal bride and lover. Evidently, Zhenya had
withdrawn completely. After afew frightened glances
at the huge mirror, Vadimushka and Sashenka high-
tailed it down thestairs andinto town.
Never again could they bring themselves to go
anywhere.
***
Alot ofwater has flowed under thebridge since Fyodor

tried todestroy themetaphysicals atthePadov nest.
The house in Lebedinoye stands vacant. Someone
even ate thefilthy cat. Oftheinhabitants oftheSonnov
nest, only old man Mikhei, with his empty place,
and little Mila apparently arrived at a happy ending,
inthehuman sense: they got married. Without official
268
THE SUBLIMES
sanction, of course. It was a marriage with nothing

toit. Outsiders often saw granddad Mikhei, whod settled
inasmall town outside Moscow, far from Lebedinoye,
taking his wifey-granddaughter, little Mila, forawalk,
holding her hand. And even kissing her, in his way.
Andsmiling afterward atsome bushes, with his white,
vanishing face.
Thecouple ran old man Kolya out; he lost his mind
andwas now gallivanting all over Russia, sometimes
in a black, drunken deliriumrecalling Lebedinoye,
Klavusha, Padov, and the filthy cat. Not the yard,
Inever went totheyard, no Ididnt, not tosee Mikhei
andlittle Mila, he would mumble sometimes, playing
dominos with himself. Im not like thatnotcrazy.
Every once inawhile, theimages ofhis dead children
would flash by the bottom of his tearing eyes, which
were aimed joyfully atavodka bottle: sewery Lidochka
andself-eater Petenka Klavenka, too, set uphouse far
from Lebedinoye, inanisolated new nest.
Shes swelling up, swelling upbig as the world.
Pretty soon shell crowd out everything, Igoryok re-
counted infright, his eyes wide, after hed accidentally
found himself inthevicinity ofthat nest. Theblond
sadist himself had abandoned all the mockeries
long ago; theonly thing that interested him now was
thefight against happiness; he fought ithuman, all-lov-
ing happinesspersistently, gloomily, and fervently,
disappearing forlong stretches ashe made therounds
from one magical nook orcorner tothenext.
269
Alyosha Khristoforov found his own final resolu-

tion as well, but first he looked for the cock-corpse,
i.e., his father, foralong time andinanguish, follow-
ing uponevery lead. Butthecock-corpses trail went
cold. Khristoforov broke all ties with the metaphys-
icals, called on God, and prayedall in vain. Now
he was living alone, in a small wooden house, with
a tall, skinny woman for a maid. He immersed him-
self inancient Christianityorrather, not even ancient
Christianity, but pure ceremonialism, especially its
endless, secret, long-forgotten detailshe didnt want
to know anything else; he barely went outside. He
frightened priests with his knowledge of Christianity,
so they avoided contact with him. Alyosha considered
them decadents and continued to experience a qua-
si-bliss inhis own service.
The religion of I had swept like a storm through
themetaphysicals souls:
Anna, Remin, and Padov. For a long time they
couldnt forget those nights inthePadov nest, theex-
plosions of faith they had, those chilling flights into
infinityforalong time this state ofmind lingered.
Soon after, though, theblack lightning bolt began
torecede andall were left with their old complexes
anddoubts.
Padov retreated tohis former state ofmind especially
abruptly. Its not like me, all this positive stuff, he mur-
mured, though maybe its better than theother. Oh well,
according tothis faith, Icant lay ahand onmyself; or,
270
THE SUBLIMES
ifIdecide tokill myself forrealandit may be that Ise-

cretly want thatlike aspirit, say intheform ofoccult
suicideeven thats prohibited; after all, theIis anab-
solute, the supreme value. But maybe Ill still want
todestroy my Iandtheabsolute andthesupreme value
andall thetransitions into trans-consciousness andev-
erything ingeneral. Hee, hee
This time, though, Remin did not go down that
path. Apparently, Gennady was getting more andmore
into the religion of I; he even started meeting less
and less with Padov, hanging around the Glubevites
or alone and threatening to write a cycle of poems
about thereligion ofI.
Annulya cast about between her faith in her
own I and her own unforgettableness. All this got
mixed up with her longstanding sexual obscurantism
andacertain surreal gnosticism. Suffice it tosay that
she pictured the otherworldly life increasingly outra-
geously and in her womanly way, she hysterically
organized extraordinary orgies involving readings
of Dostoevsky during sances of occult magic. She
became especially frantic andlaughed atthesummon-
ing ofcertain souls andguises.
In late fall, near a lonely, suburban highway, as
thewind ripped offleaves andtossed them about, form-
ing gaps inspace, asober young man inaworn-outsuit
lay inaditch, moaning softly. It was Anatoly Padov.
Before this, hed spent a long time laughing
inhis room andlooking athimself inthemirror. He
271
seemed tohimself like amiracle andhe saw what had

tohappen. Suddenly, he felt his own meaning denuded,
as if his soul had bared itself and passed ominously
through thevisibility ofthebody. He couldnt remem-
ber how, buthed wound upinthis ditch. Thesensation
ofnaked thought did not pass, asifhe could touch it,
andtheusual trappings offamiliar thinking had been
removed. He could see thebared field ofhis own I.He
was especially struck that pure thought was pounding
against itself, asiffeeling andassessing its own exis-
tence andconstantly asking itself questions: Who am I?
Where do Icome from?
Theworst part was that these questions pierced his
thinking, butkept slipping away from it unanswered,
precisely because theyd been asked, andthese impulses
could not go beyond thelimits ofreality. Thestrange-
ness of this self-awareness, this revelation of what
was most candid, this lack of answers to the main
questions, wrenched ahysterical cry from Padov. All
of him, lying in the ditch, was transformed into this
awful cry, which was so puzzled over himself.
Thought pounded against thought; I ran into
I.Naked self-awareness wailed, asifit didnt know where
it came from, and Padov was fevered by the strange-
ness of his naked, questioning existence; his naked
thoughtboth insanely real and outrageously frail
seemed tobreak down.
Suddenly Tolya felt achill: that which comprised his
Iwas about tocome crashing down. Soon everything
272
THE SUBLIMES
will come crashing down, and what will be left? he

whispered.
Padov staggered to his feet and out of the ditch.
And so he walked on, with bugged-out eyes, down
the lonely highway, toward the hidden world that
doesnt even allow anyone toask questions.
273
Original version ofthenovel inRussian
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The

Translated from the Russian

Haute Culture Books

Copy of the limited edition

The physical version of this book was conceived

 Haute Culture Books / Kreell / Marian Schwartz

The translation of this publication was carried out

If you are reading this novel in its digital version,

To help us bring literary masterpieces to more readers

(Original Russian Version)

Inthespring of1960-something, anevening commuter

aimed only inthesense that, for theowner ofthis face,

Onthecentral square, amangy cur ofabusno,

exalted now, no longer grown from their former ele-

A visitor, from far away, Grigory. Sonnov was

liked to recall the very last test. You see, Grigory,

her beneath himself. Andhad her then andthere. Iwas

Whered you get to, you son of a bitch? Fyodor

Well, Grigory, youre not thefirst andyou wont be

I drowned. Their families would arrange a celebration

theessence slips away? So Istarted roaming theworld.

The small town of Lebedinoye, outside Moscow,

The woman was about thirty-five and full-fig-

Thewoman spoke alot, while Sonnov kept silent,

budged. Pashas wife Lidochka stood off to one side;

Truth be toldstrange though it seemed andcom-

Finally thefamily, led byold man Kolya, stood up,

indifferent, he punched aguy intheteeth whod just

The Sonnovs had known the Fomichevs since child-

mouth open. Buthe didnt even laugh when he did.

Of course, she was unable to connect this fact

cleverly just sprung from Lidochka. Therefore, theold

jumping andsinging songs, orrather, like tips ofhis

Fortunately, Lidochka was a simpleton when it

butPasha, without even realizing it, smashed its head

Theday after his arrival, Fyodor woke late andstarted

Klava followed Fyodor behind his back, like

Klava sensed with alarm that he instilled fear

The cellar Fyodor climbed down to was wild and im-

Fyodor woke up. He didnt like dreams. Thegloom

Meanwhile, Fyodor gorged himself, andinthedark-

Meanwhile, events uptop had been set inmotion. He

inwith anaked, erect penis, which he had scalded with

Pasha didnt come home until evening, seriously

senses. Even the old neighbor lady Mavka came run-

Inthemiddle ofthenight, Lidochka started feeling bad,

She was looking at him with stupefaction and

The scamp. Shes going to die, to die, Fyodor

constantly eluded himthespecter that always slipped

He caressed me into eternity, flashed weakly

He was still entirely in the grip of the pleasure

upsome kind ofinfection during her terrible labor, plus

It was light and deserted in the Fomichev-Sonnov

almost never came out. He just sat dully on the bed

Klava wagged her little face andleft.

pampered and intelligent; her mouth sensual but not

What is, then? She looked him over with vague

What? What do you mean feces ofthenext world?

alone interested Fyodor and in which Anna herself

He got upandstarted pacing around theroom.

You know, Fyodor Ivanovich, she said, gazing

They had to take the suburban train. Two pain-

Leaving him there, she headed toward those men.

Haute Culture Books / Kreell / Marian Schwartz