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Updated: June 15, 2025
If we had drunk a great deal and that did happen sometimes, though not often we flew into raptures, and even on one occasion sang the "Marseillaise" in chorus to the accompaniment of Lyamshin, though I don't know how it went off. The great day, the nineteenth of February, we welcomed enthusiastically, and for a long time beforehand drank toasts in its honour.
"I am certainly for crossing at full steam!" cried the schoolboy in an ecstasy. "So am I," Lyamshin chimed in. "There can be no doubt about the choice," muttered an officer, followed by another, then by some one else. What struck them all most was that Verhovensky had come "with communications" and had himself just promised to speak.
To his surprise Liputin overtook him before he got half-way home. "Pyotr Stepanovitch! Pyotr Stepanovitch! Lyamshin will give information!" "No, he will come to his senses and realise that he will be the first to go to Siberia if he did. No one will betray us now. Even you won't." "What about you?" "No fear!
The whole hall became instantly still, all looks were turned to him, some with positive alarm. There was no denying, he knew how to secure their interest from the first word. Heads were thrust out from behind the scenes; Liputin and Lyamshin listened greedily. Yulia Mihailovna waved to me again. "Stop him, whatever happens, stop him," she whispered in agitation.
At last, wrenching himself away, he drew his revolver and put it in the open mouth of Lyamshin, who was still yelling and was by now tightly held by Tolkatchenko, Erkel, and Liputin. But Lyamshin went on shrieking in spite of the revolver. At last Erkel, crushing his silk handkerchief into a ball, deftly thrust it into his mouth and the shriek ceased.
He would perhaps have added something more to his belated exclamation, but Lyamshin did not let him finish: he suddenly seized him from behind and squeezed him with all his might, uttering an unnatural shriek.
"How so?" said the girl-student, craning forward suddenly. But there was an audible titter in the group of teachers, which was at once caught up at the other end by Lyamshin and the schoolboy and followed by a hoarse chuckle from the major. "You ought to write vaudevilles," Madame Virginsky observed to Stavrogin.
Some said he was "deranged," others that he was "liable to attacks"; others put their fingers to their forehead; Lyamshin, in the corner, put his two fingers above his forehead. People hinted at some domestic difficulties in a whisper, of course. No one took up his hat; all were waiting.
As Lyamshin was the only one who could walk standing on his head, he had undertaken to represent the editor with the cudgel. Yulia Mihailovna had had no idea that anyone was going to walk on his head. "They concealed that from me, they concealed it," she repeated to me afterwards in despair and indignation.
As every one had seen all they wanted they went out without disputing, though Lyamshin began pestering the police captain about something. The general merrymaking, laughter, and playful talk were twice as lively on the latter half of the way. We arrived at Semyon Yakovlevitch's just at one o'clock. The gate of the rather large house stood unfastened, and the approach to the lodge was open.
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