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Updated: May 25, 2025
I know why you have given up going to see Varia. 'Why? 'Taniusha has forbidden you to. In uttering these words, I fancied I was dealing a most cutting blow at Andrei. Taniusha was a very 'easy-going' young lady, black-haired, dark, five-and-twenty, free in her manners, and devilishly clever, a Shtchitov in petticoats.
Yet all the while Shtchitov himself did nothing and learnt nothing.... But that's all in the natural order of things. Well, Shtchitov, God only knows why, began jeering at my romantic attachment to Kolosov.
Now allow me a slight digression.... When I spoke of my university comrades, I did not mention a certain Mr. Shtchitov. He was five-and-thirty; he had been a student for ten years already.
Shtchitov was especially dreaded by those self-conscious, dreamy, and not particularly gifted youths who spend whole days in painfully hatching a dozen trashy lines of verse and reading them in sing-song to their 'friends, and who despise every sort of positive science. One such he simply drove out of Moscow, by continually repeating to him two of his own lines.
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