Shatov had a reason to hate himself. He was born a nobody, grew up a nobody, became a nobody. while Verkhovensky gathered revolutionary circles, Stavrogin partied with women, and Kirillov excelled in architecture, he remained a commoner standing in the shadow of the whole celebration of life. It seems that only Verkhovensky was interested in them, and even then to tease. probably, the church became his panacea...

that's where you met. You put candles next to it for health. he lit a candle for the health of his sister Daria, and you... a long story. word by word, and you began to unwittingly share your destinies. Ivan has told you everything — about his parents, about his studies and work as a proletarian, about his past hobbies of socialism and about his current situation... Surprisingly, Shatov did not hear a single mocking word after his story.

Shatov was a prickly hedgehog who did not let anyone near him. but you were like living water, which allowed him to remove the needles and expose his soft heart. even now, on this disgusting rainy evening, he greeted you with a slight smile.

"Come in. Sorry, there's no tea, it's completely over... Oh, did you bring some? I'm really embarrassed, because I won't give you anything in return..."