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Updated: May 9, 2025
"Do you know," suddenly continued Posdnicheff, "that this power of women from which the world suffers arises solely from what I have just spoken of?" "What do you mean by the power of women?" I said. "Everybody, on the contrary, complains that women have not sufficient rights, that they are in subjection." "That's it; that's it exactly," said he, vivaciously.
For instance, there is the Posdnicheff affair," said the lawyer, wishing to stop the conversation on this embarrassing and too exciting ground. "Have you read how he killed his wife through jealousy?" The lady said that she had not read it. The nervous gentleman said nothing, and changed color. "I see that you have divined who I am," said he, suddenly, after a pause.
I remember then how they looked at each other, and cast a glance at their auditors who were taking their seats. They said a few words to each other, and the music began. They played Beethoven's 'Kreutzer Sonata. Do you know the first presto? Do you know it? Ah!" . . . Posdnicheff heaved a sigh, and was silent for a long time. "A terrible thing is that sonata, especially the presto!
I understood that it was I, I, who had killed her. I understood that I was the cause of the fact that she, who had been a moving, living, palpitating being, had now become motionless and cold, and that there was no way of repairing this thing. He who has not lived through that cannot understand it." We remained silent a long time. Posdnicheff sobbed and trembled before me.
It was for this last reason, for that matter, that I felt the necessity of communicating these memoirs to her. I can still see her fright, her despair, her bewilderment, when she had learned and understood it. She was on the point of breaking the engagement. What a lucky thing it would have been for both of us!" Posdnicheff was silent for a moment, and then resumed: "After all, no!
Posdnicheff became silent, and twice there escaped him, in the half-darkness, sighs, which at that moment seemed to me like suppressed sobs. Then he continued. "So we lived in the city. In the city the wretched feel less sad. One can live there a hundred years without being noticed, and be dead a long time before anybody will notice it. People have no time to inquire into your life.
Now I jumped up and approached the window, now I began to walk back and forth, staggering as if I hoped to make the train go faster by my efforts, and the car with its seats and its windows trembled continually, as ours does now." And Posdnicheff rose abruptly, took a few steps, and sat down again. "Oh, I am afraid, I am afraid of railway carriages. Fear seizes me.
On the point of speaking evil of the other, Posdnicheff checked himself, stopped, and said suddenly: "In truth, I know not how he lived. I only know that that year he came to Russia, and came to see me.
Posdnicheff seemed to wish to add something, but, no longer having the strength to repress his sobs, he stopped. After a few minutes, having recovered his calmness, he resumed: "I began to understand only when I saw her in the coffin." . . . He uttered a sob, and then immediately continued, with haste: "Then only, when I saw her dead face, did I understand all that I had done.
"No, I have not had that pleasure." "It is no great pleasure. I am Posdnicheff." New silence. He blushed, then turned pale again. "What matters it, however?" said he. "Excuse me, I do not wish to embarrass you." And he resumed his old seat. I resumed mine, also. The lawyer and the lady whispered together. I was sitting beside Posdnicheff, and I maintained silence.
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