Chapter 18: II

II The End of the Fête I He would not see me. He had shut himself up and was writing. At my repeated knocks and appeals he answered through the door: “My friend, I have finished everything. Who can ask anything more of me?” “You haven’t finished anything, you’ve only helped to make a mess of the whole thing. For God’s sake, no epigrams, Stepan Trofimovitch! Open the door. We must take steps; they may still come and insult you. …” I thought myself entitled to be particul…