CHAPTER I
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CHAPTER I
THROUGH causes which it is not the time to go into in detail, I had to enter the service of a Petersburg official called Orlov, in the capacity of a footman. He was about five and thirty, and was called Georgy* Ivanitch.
*Both _g‘s_ hard, as in "Gorgon"； _e_ like _ai_ in _rain_.
I entered this Orlov‘s service on account of his father, a prominent political man, whom I looked upon as a serious enemy of my cause. I reckoned that, living with the son, I should--from the conversations I should hear, and from the letters and papers I should find on the table--learn every detail of the father‘s plans and intentions.
As a rule at eleven o‘clock in the morning the electric bell rang in my footman‘s quarters to let me know that my master was awake. When I went into the bedroom with his polished shoes and brushed clothes, Georgy Ivanitch would be sitting in his bed with a face that looked, not drowsy, but rather exhausted by sleep, and he would gaze off in on

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