"Do you know what that nervousness of yours proceeds from?" said Dubkoff in a protecting sort of tone, "D'un exces d'amour propre, mon cher.""What do you mean by 'exces d'amour propre'?" asked Nechludoff, highly offended. "On the contrary, I am shy just because I have TOO LITTLE amour propre. I always feel as though I were being tiresome and disagreeable, and therefore--""Well, get ready, Woloda," interrupted Dubkoff, tapping my brother on the shoulder and handing him his cloak. "Ignaz, get your master ready.""Therefore," continued Nechludoff, it often happens with me that--"But Dubkoff was not listening. "Tra-la-la-la," and he hummed a popular air.
"Oh, but I'm not going to let you off," went on Nechludoff. "Imean to prove to you that my shyness is not the result of conceit.""You can prove it as we go along."
"But I have told you that I am NOT going."
"Well, then, stay here and prove it to the DIPLOMAT, and he can tell us all about it when we return.""Yes, that's what I WILL do," said Nechludoff with boyish obstinacy, "so hurry up with your return.""Well, do you think I am egotistic?" he continued, seating himself beside me.
True, I had a definite opinion on the subject, but I felt so taken aback by this unexpected question that at first I could make no reply.
"Yes, I DO think so," I said at length in a faltering voice, and colouring at the thought that at last the moment had come when Icould show him that I was clever. "I think that EVERYBODY is egotistic, and that everything we do is done out of egotism.""But what do you call egotism?" asked Nechludoff--smiling, as Ithought, a little contemptuously.
"Egotism is a conviction that we are better and cleverer than any one else," I replied.
"But how can we ALL be filled with this conviction?" he inquired.
"Well, I don't know if I am right or not--certainly no one but myself seems to hold the opinion--but I believe that I am wiser than any one else in the world, and that all of you know it.""At least I can say for myself," observed Nechludoff, "that Ihave met a FEW people whom I believe to excel me in wisdom.""It is impossible," I replied with conviction.
"Do you really think so?" he said, looking at me gravely.
"Yes, really," I answered, and an idea crossed my mind which Iproceeded to expound further. "Let me prove it to you. Why do we love ourselves better than any one else? Because we think ourselves BETTER than any one else--more worthy of our own love.
If we THOUGHT others better than ourselves, we should LOVE them better than ourselves: but that is never the case. And even if it were so, I should still be right," I added with an involuntary smile of complacency.
For a few minutes Nechludoff was silent.
"I never thought you were so clever," he said with a smile so goodhumoured and charming that I at once felt happy.
Praise exercises an all-potent influence, not only upon the feelings, but also upon the intellect; so that under the influence of that agreeable sensation I straightway felt much cleverer than before, and thoughts began to rush with extraordinary rapidity through my head. From egotism we passed insensibly to the theme of love, which seemed inexhaustible.
Although our reasonings might have sounded nonsensical to a listener (so vague and one-sided were they), for ourselves they had a profound significance. Our minds were so perfectly in harmony that not a chord was struck in the one without awakening an echo in the other, and in this harmonious striking of different chords we found the greatest delight. Indeed, we felt as though time and language were insufficient to express the thoughts which seethed within us.
