That this worthless jade was not Malek-Adel; that between him and
Malek-Adel there was not the smallest resemblance; that any man of the
slightest sense would have seen this from the first minute; that he,
Tchertop-hanov, had been taken in in the vulgarest way--no! that he
purposely, of set intent, tricked himself, blinded his own eyes--of all
this he had not now the faintest doubt!
Tchertop-hanov walked up and down in his room, turning monotonously on
his heels at each wall, like a beast in a cage. His vanity suffered
intolerably; but he was not only tortured by the sting of wounded
vanity; he was overwhelmed by despair, stifled by rage, and burning with
the thirst for revenge. But rage against whom? On whom was he to be
revenged? On the Jew, Yaff, Masha, the deacon, the Cossack-thief, all
his neighbours, the whole world, himself? His brain was giving way. The
last card was trumped! (That simile gratified him.) And he was again the
most worthless, the most contemptible of men, a common laughing-stock, a
motley fool, a damned idiot, an object for jibes--to a deacon!... He
fancied, he pictured vividly how that loathsome pig-tailed priest would
tell the story of the grey horse and the foolish gentleman.... O damn!!
In vain Tchertop-hanov tried to check his rising passion, in vain he
tried to assure himself that this... horse, though not Malek-Adel, was
still... a good horse, and might be of service to him for many years to
come; he put this thought away from him on the spot with fury, as though
there were contained in it a new insult to _that_ Malek-Adel whom
he considered he had wronged so already.... Yes, indeed! this jade, this
carrion he, like a blind idiot, had put on a level with him, Malek-Adel!
And as to the service the jade could be to him!... as though he would
ever deign to get astride of him? Never! on no consideration!!... He
would sell him to a Tartar for dog's meat--it deserved no better end....
Yes, that would be best!'
For more than two hours Tchertop-hanov wandered up and down his room.
'Perfishka!' he called peremptorily all of a sudden, 'run this minute to
the tavern; fetch a gallon of vodka! Do you hear? A gallon, and look
sharp! I want the vodka here this very second on the table!'
The vodka was not long in making its appearance on Panteley Eremyitch's
table, and he began drinking.