White Nights

Fyodor Dostoyevsky’s “White Nights” (1848) is a six-part short story that blends elements of Romanticism and psychological realism to explore themes of love, loneliness, and illusion. Written early in Dostoyevsky’s literary career, the story reflects his growing interest in the interior lives of marginalized figures—an interest that would later define his major works such as Notes from Underground and Crime and Punishment. “White Nights” captures the emotional landscape of a solitary man in St. Petersburg whose fleeting romantic encounter reveals both the depth of his longing and the limits of his idealism. 

This guide uses the digitized version of “White Nights” translated by Constance Garnett, and published in 1918 by Heienmann.

Part 1: “First Night”

The narrator begins with a description of a “wonderful” Petersburg night, calling it “such a night as is only possible when we are young” (1). Though the evening is beautiful, he has spent the day in a state of depression, disturbed by a feeling of loneliness. For three days, he has wandered the city in a haze of sadness, sensing that people are abandoning him, though he admits he has no real acquaintances. He imagines himself intimately connected to the people and the buildings of Petersburg, knowing the daily rhythms of passersby and attributing emotions and intentions to various houses he frequently sees. 

The narrator realizes that his unease stems from the mass exodus of city residents to their summer homes. Feeling excluded from this ritual, he becomes ashamed and dejected. Hoping for relief, he walks to the city’s outskirts, where the open landscape and friendly faces lift his mood. The countryside appears newly alive, and nature reminds him of a consumptive girl who briefly becomes radiant before returning to her usual pallor. 

Later that night, while walking along a deserted canal, the narrator sees a young woman—Nastenka—crying. When a drunken man pursues her, the narrator intervenes with his walking stick. Nastenka gratefully takes his arm, and they walk together. During their conversation, he reveals that he is 26, painfully shy, and has had no real contact with women. He calls himself a dreamer and explains that he often imagines romantic encounters that never come to pass. Nastenka responds kindly and agrees to let him accompany her to her home. 

As they part, she agrees to meet again the next night at the same place and time, but under the condition that he not fall in love with her. Nastenka hints that she may tell him something important in the future but keeps the details secret for now. The narrator, overjoyed by this brief connection, walks the streets all night, unable to go home, holding onto the promise of tomorrow.

Part 2: “Second Night” 

The narrator meets Nastenka again the following evening, having waited two hours at their agreed meeting spot. She greets him warmly but announces that she has resolved to “behave more sensibly” than the night before (19). Admitting she was impulsive, she decides they must start again and asks him to share his life story. Though hesitant at first, the narrator agrees, but claims that there is nothing to tell—he has lived in solitude. When Nastenka presses him, he describes himself as someone who hides from life, retreats into imagination, and lives apart from society. 

He launches into an extended third-person monologue to describe his isolated, interior life. He characterizes the dreamer as a person who grows attached to his private space and lives by elaborate fantasies while remaining estranged from the world. The dreamer, he explains, becomes overwhelmed even by a simple visit from an acquaintance. Nastenka listens attentively, sometimes teasing him for his elaborate style, but encourages him to continue. 

The narrator recounts how, in the course of an ordinary day, he often withdraws from his surroundings, slipping into daydreams so rich and vivid that he forgets where he is. During these episodes, he imagines himself at the center of elaborate scenes drawn from literature, history and opera. These fantasies, he admits, have become substitutes for living.

As he concludes his confession, the narrator unexpectedly grows emotional, overcome by the realization of what he has lost. He mourns the years he has spent disconnected from real life and speaks bitterly about the inevitable decline of his imagination as he grows older. The thought of facing a lonely old age, with “not even anything to regret” (39), fills him with dread. 

Nastenka responds with compassion and promises they will not part after only two evenings. Moved by his openness, she says she understands him deeply despite her lack of education, and expresses a desire to tell him her story. She asks for his friendly advice, and he promises to give it. With that Nastenka takes his hand and begins her tale.

Part 3: “Nastenka’s History”

Nastenka’s blind grandmother raised her after her parents died. At 15, Nastenka stopped school and began to resent her constrained life. After a small act of mischief, her grandmother pinned Nastenka’s dress to her own, insisting they remain connected so she could monitor her behavior. Nastenka remained tethered each day, reading or sewing beside her grandmother. She escaped once with help from their deaf cleaner before being caught. 

After their former tenant died, they took a new lodger into their home, a small wooden house with a rented upper floor. The new lodger was a young, pleasant-looking man from out of town. Though initially cautious, Nastenka and her grandmother allowed him to stay. When the lodger saw her pinned to her grandmother, she cried from shame. The man left, but two weeks later he sent books for her to read—French novels and eventually works by Pushkin and Walter Scott. These books became a regular part of Nastenka’s life and occupied her imagination. 

Over time, brief encounters on the stairs led to occasional conversations between Nastenka and the tenant. Once, he proposed taking her to the theater, but she refused to deceive her grandmother. Later, he arranged to take both Nastenka and her grandmother to a performance of Rossini’s opera The Barber of Seville. Nastenka interpreted the outing as a sign of his affection; however, he withdrew again, leaving Nastenka anxious and distracted. 

A year before the night of Nastenka’s conversation with the narrator, the lodger announced that he was returning to Moscow for work. Distraught, Nastenka gathered her belongings and offered to leave with him. Moved by her desperation but unable to offer stability, he gently refused. He asked for one year to improve his circumstances—if she still loved him then, he would marry her. 

The year has passed. Nastenka knows that the lodger is back in Petersburg, yet he has not contacted her. Distressed by her disappointment, the narrator offers to help. Though initially hesitant, Nastenka agrees to let him deliver a letter she has already written. Nastenka is relieved and gracious, thanking him and giving him the address before hurrying off, leaving the narrator filled with emotion. 

Part 4: “Third Night”

The narrator reflects on a dark, rainy day that mirrors his mood. Though he had hoped Nastenka might come despite the weather, she has not arrived. He recalls that the day before, she said that she would not come if it rained. 

He recounts their third meeting, describing her happiness and the warmth she showed him while waiting for a response from her former lodger. She seemed joyful and affectionate, praising the narrator for his disinterested friendship: “What would have happened to me if you had not been with me now?” (61). Though she insisted she values him for his support and honesty, he recognizes that her love is directed elsewhere. As the evening wore on and her suitor failed to appear, Nastenka grew anxious and tried to mask her feelings with forced gaiety. She teased the narrator and laughed often, but he sensed the change. When it grew late, they realized the man would not arrive. The narrator tried to console her, offering possible explanations and promising to check for a reply to her letter the following morning. Nastenka seemed calmed by his reassurances, but soon she began to cry. She admitted she had been comparing the two men—“Why isn’t he like you? He is not as good as you, though I love him more than you” (66). She reflected on the suitor’s aloofness and her own fear of him, noting the inequality in their relationship. Still, her love for him remained unchanged. Before they parted, she told the narrator she would return the day after tomorrow, even if it rained, and asked if they’d “always be together” (69). He did not answer directly but noted his growing sense of loneliness. 

The narrator wanders restlessly through the city. Though it’s raining, he visits the bench where he talked with Nastenka and approaches her street, only to retreat without looking in her window. Back home, he waits, clinging to hope. 

Part 5: “Fourth Night”

The narrator arrives at the canal at nine o’clock, filled with hope. Nastenka is there, standing as she had on the first night. When he approaches, she immediately asks if he brought a letter. He tells her there is nothing. Her face goes pale, and after a long silence, she begins to cry. She reflects bitterly on how she has been treated, questioning whether the letter reached him and wondering how someone could be so cruel. The narrator offers to go to the man and explain everything, suggesting she write another letter. She refuses, declaring she no longer loves him and wants to forget. 

Nastenka asks the narrator if he would have treated her the same way. Overwhelmed, the narrator confesses his love: “I love you, Nastenka! There it is! Now everything is told” (75). Nastenka knows that the narrator has fallen in love with her; she has already compared him favorably to the other man. She wavers between sorrow and warmth—she still loves the other man but feels herself beginning to move on. She breaks down and leans on the narrator, crying and asking him to wait. After regaining composure, she explains that she has loved the lodger for a year but now believes he is unworthy of her. She suggests that if the narrator’s love is strong enough to replace her former attachment, she will love him in return. 

They walk together, filled with laughter and plans for the future. She invites him to move into a room at her grandmother’s house. They discuss finances, jobs, and the theater. But as they walk, a man passes by—Nastenka’s former lodger. She immediately recognizes him and, trembling, huddles against the narrator. When the man calls her name, she runs to him and throws herself into his arms. Then, she returns to the narrator, hugs and kisses him, and, without a word, she runs back to the lodger. They disappear from view. 

Part 6: “Morning”

Matrona, the narrator’s housekeeper, brings the narrator a letter from Nastenka. He opens it with a surge of emotion, and finds in it a plea for forgiveness. 

In her letter, Nastenka confesses that she deceived both him and herself. She calls their connection a “dream, a mirage,” but insists that her feelings for him were real and tender: “Oh, if only you were he!” (88). She expresses her gratitude and asks him to continue as her friend. Nastenka ends with news of her impending marriage, stating she will come to visit with her fiancé, whom she hopes the narrator will come to like. 

Overwhelmed, the narrator reads the letter repeatedly. Matrona reappears, making an offhand comment about cleaning cobwebs in case he of a wedding or party. Her words strike him strangely, and he suddenly sees everything around him as aged and worn. He imagines himself 15 years in the future, still alone, living in the same room. Despite this vision, he rejects bitterness. Addressing Nastenka in his thoughts, he refuses to resent her happiness or cast a shadow over her joy, instead offering a blessing: “May your sweet smile be bright and untroubled” (91). He closes with the reflection that even a fleeting experience of love may be enough to justify a lifetime.