A Vengeful Longing
“He crossed himself twice and moved away from the commotion on the Tuchkov Bridge, away from the memory of the man’s face as he tottered on the railings, balanced for a moment between life and death. He did not wait to see the outcome. The face had seemed familiar. The more Ferfichkin thought about it, the more convinced he became that he recognised the wretch. It was, without doubt, one of his enemies. ‘A suicide is no good to anyone,’ he muttered scornfully. ‘Especially one who throws himself... in the Neva.’ He pointed into the air emphatically as he spoke. It was a habit that came from living alone, this talking aloud to himself - or rather to an imagined audience. He had seen children, and even those old enough to know better, laugh at him to his face, not even bothering to hide their mockery behind their hands. An unaccountable sense of guilt, as if he were to blame for the man’s predicament, hounded him as he moved south. ‘R-r-ridiculous! ’ he called out with a defiant laugh.MoreLess
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