Fyodorovna and pay his debts; he would tell a lie only once, and
then a completely new life would begin. And that was right: at the
price of a small lie he would win so much truth.

Now when by his blunt refusal the doctor had crudely hinted at his
deception, he began to understand that he would need deception not
only in the remote future, but to-day, and to-morrow, and in a
month's time, and perhaps up to the very end of his life. In fact,
in order to get away he would have to lie to Nadyezhda Fyodorovna,
to his creditors, and to his superiors in the Service; then, in
order to get money in Petersburg, he would have to lie to his mother,
to tell her that he had already broken with Nadyezhda Fyodorovna;
and his mother would not give him more than five hundred roubles,
so he had already deceived the doctor, as he would not be in a
position to pay him back the money within a short time. Afterwards,
when Nadyezhda Fyodorovna came to Petersburg, he would have to
resort to a regular series of deceptions, little and big, in order
to get free of her; and again there would be tears, boredom, a
disgusting existence, remorse, and so there would be no new life.
Deception and nothing more. A whole mountain of lies rose before
Laevsky's imagination. To leap over it at one bound and not to do
his lying piecemeal, he would have to bring himself to stern,
uncompromising action; for instance, to getting up without saying
a word, putting on his hat, and at once setting off without money
and without explanation. But Laevsky felt that was impossible for
him.

"Friday, Friday . . ." he thought. "Friday. . . ."

They wrote little notes, folded them in two, and put them in Nikodim