THE IDIOT

By Fyodor Dostoyevsky

Translated by Eva Martin

PART I

I. 

Towards the end of November, during a thaw, at nine o'clock one morning, a train on the Warsaw and Petersburg railway was approaching the lattercity at full speed. The morning was so damp and misty that it was onlywith great difficulty that the day succeeded in breaking; and it wasimpossible to distinguish anything more than a few yards away from thecarriage windows. 

Some of the passengers by this particular train were returning fromabroad; but the third-class carriages were the best filled, chiefly withinsignificant persons of various occupations and degrees, picked up atthe different stations nearer town. All of them seemed weary, andmost of them had sleepy eyes and a shivering expression, while theircomplexions generally appeared to have taken on the colour of the fogoutside. 

When day dawned, two passengers in one of the third-class carriagesfound themselves opposite each other. Both were young fellows, bothwere rather poorly dressed, both had remarkable faces, and both wereevidently anxious to start a conversation. If they had but known why, at this particular moment, they were both remarkable persons, they wouldundoubtedly have wondered at the strange chance which had set them downopposite to one another in a third-class carriage of the Warsaw RailwayCompany. 

One of them was a young fellow of about twenty-seven, not tall, withblack curling hair, and small, grey, fiery eyes. His nose was broadand flat, and he had high cheek bones; his thin lips were constantlycompressed into an impudent, ironical--it might almost be called amalicious--smile; but his forehead was high and well formed, and atonedfor a good deal of the ugliness of the lower part of his face. A specialfeature of this physiognomy was its death-like pallor, which gave tothe whole man an indescribably emaciated appearance in spite of his hardlook, and at the same time a sort of passionate and suffering expressionwhich did not harmonize with his impudent, sarcastic smile andkeen, self-satisfied bearing. He wore a large fur--or ratherastrachan--overcoat, which had kept him warm all night, while hisneighbour had been obliged to bear the full severity of a RussianNovember night entirely unprepared. His wide sleeveless mantle with alarge cape to it--the sort of cloak one sees upon travellers during thewinter months in Switzerland or North Italy--was by no means adapted tothe long cold journey through Russia, from Eydkuhnen to St. Petersburg. 

The wearer of this cloak was a young fellow, also of about twenty-six ortwenty-seven years of age, slightly above the middle height, very fair, with a thin, pointed and very light coloured beard; his eyes were largeand blue, and had an intent look about them, yet that heavy expressionwhich some people affirm to be a peculiarity as well as evidence, of anepileptic subject. His face was decidedly a pleasant one for all that;refined, but quite colourless, except for the circumstance that at thismoment it was blue with cold. He held a bundle made up of an old fadedsilk handkerchief that apparently contained all his travelling wardrobe, and wore thick shoes and gaiters, his whole appearance being veryun-Russian. 

His black-haired neighbour inspected these peculiarities, having nothingbetter to do, and at length remarked, with that rude enjoyment of thediscomforts of others which the common classes so often show:

"Cold?"

"Very, " said his neighbour, readily, "and this is a thaw, too. Fancy ifit had been a hard frost! I never thought it would be so cold in the oldcountry. I've grown quite out of the way of it. "

"What, been abroad, I suppose?"

"Yes, straight from Switzerland. "

"Wheugh! my goodness!" The black-haired young fellow whistled, and thenlaughed. 

The conversation proceeded. The readiness of the fair-haired youngman in the cloak to answer all his opposite neighbour's questionswas surprising. He seemed to have no suspicion of any impertinenceor inappropriateness in the fact of such questions being put to him. Replying to them, he made known to the inquirer that he certainly hadbeen long absent from Russia, more than four years; that he had beensent abroad for his health; that he had suffered from some strangenervous malady--a kind of epilepsy, with convulsive spasms. Hisinterlocutor burst out laughing several times at his answers; andmore than ever, when to the question, "whether he had been cured?" thepatient replied:

"No, they did not cure me. "

"Hey! that's it! You stumped up your money for nothing, and webelieve in those fellows, here!" remarked the black-haired individual, sarcastically. 

"Gospel truth, sir, Gospel truth!" exclaimed another passenger, ashabbily dressed man of about forty, who looked like a clerk, andpossessed a red nose and a very blotchy face. "Gospel truth! All they dois to get hold of our good Russian money free, gratis, and for nothing. "

"Oh, but you're quite wrong in my particular instance, " said the Swisspatient, quietly. "Of course I can't argue the matter, because Iknow only my own case; but my doctor gave me money--and he had verylittle--to pay my journey back, besides having kept me at his ownexpense, while there, for nearly two years. "

"Why? Was there no one else to pay for you?" asked the black-haired one. 

"No--Mr. Pavlicheff, who had been supporting me there, died a coupleof years ago. I wrote to Mrs. General Epanchin at the time (she is adistant relative of mine), but she did not answer my letter. And soeventually I came back. "

"And where have you come to?"

"That is--where am I going to stay? I--I really don't quite know yet, I--"

Both the listeners laughed again. 

"I suppose your whole set-up is in that bundle, then?" asked the first. 

"I bet anything it is!" exclaimed the red-nosed passenger, withextreme satisfaction, "and that he has precious little in the luggagevan!--though of course poverty is no crime--we must remember that!"

It appeared that it was indeed as they had surmised. The young fellowhastened to admit the fact with wonderful readiness. 

"Your bundle has some importance, however, " continued the clerk, whenthey had laughed their fill (it was observable that the subject of theirmirth joined in the laughter when he saw them laughing); "for though Idare say it is not stuffed full of friedrichs d'or and louis d'or--judgefrom your costume and gaiters--still--if you can add to your possessionssuch a valuable property as a relation like Mrs. General Epanchin, thenyour bundle becomes a significant object at once. That is, of course, ifyou really are a relative of Mrs. Epanchin's, and have not made a littleerror through--well, absence of mind, which is very common to humanbeings; or, say--through a too luxuriant fancy?"

"Oh, you are right again, " said the fair-haired traveller, "for Ireally am _almost_ wrong when I say she and I are related. She is hardlya relation at all; so little, in fact, that I was not in the leastsurprised to have no answer to my letter. I expected as much. "

"H'm! you spent your postage for nothing, then. H'm! you are candid, however--and that is commendable. H'm! Mrs. Epanchin--oh yes! a mosteminent person. I know her. As for Mr. Pavlicheff, who supported you inSwitzerland, I know him too--at least, if it was Nicolai Andreevitchof that name? A fine fellow he was--and had a property of four thousandsouls in his day. "

"Yes, Nicolai Andreevitch--that was his name, " and the young fellowlooked earnestly and with curiosity at the all-knowing gentleman withthe red nose. 

This sort of character is met with pretty frequently in a certain class. They are people who know everyone--that is, they know where a man isemployed, what his salary is, whom he knows, whom he married, what moneyhis wife had, who are his cousins, and second cousins, etc. , etc. Thesemen generally have about a hundred pounds a year to live on, and theyspend their whole time and talents in the amassing of this style ofknowledge, which they reduce--or raise--to the standard of a science. 

During the latter part of the conversation the black-haired young manhad become very impatient. He stared out of the window, and fidgeted, and evidently longed for the end of the journey. He was very absent;he would appear to listen-and heard nothing; and he would laugh of asudden, evidently with no idea of what he was laughing about. 

"Excuse me, " said the red-nosed man to the young fellow with the bundle, rather suddenly; "whom have I the honour to be talking to?"

"Prince Lef Nicolaievitch Muishkin, " replied the latter, with perfectreadiness. 

"Prince Muishkin? Lef Nicolaievitch? H'm! I don't know, I'm sure! I maysay I have never heard of such a person, " said the clerk, thoughtfully. "At least, the name, I admit, is historical. Karamsin must mention thefamily name, of course, in his history--but as an individual--one neverhears of any Prince Muishkin nowadays. "

"Of course not, " replied the prince; "there are none, except myself. I believe I am the last and only one. As to my forefathers, they havealways been a poor lot; my own father was a sublieutenant in the army. Idon't know how Mrs. Epanchin comes into the Muishkin family, but she isdescended from the Princess Muishkin, and she, too, is the last of herline. "

"And did you learn science and all that, with your professor overthere?" asked the black-haired passenger. 

"Oh yes--I did learn a little, but--"

"I've never learned anything whatever, " said the other. 

"Oh, but I learned very little, you know!" added the prince, as thoughexcusing himself. "They could not teach me very much on account of myillness. "

"Do you know the Rogojins?" asked his questioner, abruptly. 

"No, I don't--not at all! I hardly know anyone in Russia. Why, is thatyour name?"

"Yes, I am Rogojin, Parfen Rogojin. "

"Parfen Rogojin? dear me--then don't you belong to those very Rogojins, perhaps--" began the clerk, with a very perceptible increase of civilityin his tone. 

"Yes--those very ones, " interrupted Rogojin, impatiently, and with scantcourtesy. I may remark that he had not once taken any notice of theblotchy-faced passenger, and had hitherto addressed all his remarksdirect to the prince. 

"Dear me--is it possible?" observed the clerk, while his face assumed anexpression of great deference and servility--if not of absolutealarm: "what, a son of that very Semen Rogojin--hereditary honourablecitizen--who died a month or so ago and left two million and a half ofroubles?"

"And how do _you_ know that he left two million and a half of roubles?"asked Rogojin, disdainfully, and no deigning so much as to look at theother. "However, it's true enough that my father died a month ago, andthat here am I returning from Pskoff, a month after, with hardly a bootto my foot. They've treated me like a dog! I've been ill of fever atPskoff the whole time, and not a line, nor farthing of money, have Ireceived from my mother or my confounded brother!"

"And now you'll have a million roubles, at least--goodness gracious me!"exclaimed the clerk, rubbing his hands. 

"Five weeks since, I was just like yourself, " continued Rogojin, addressing the prince, "with nothing but a bundle and the clothes Iwore. I ran away from my father and came to Pskoff to my aunt's house, where I caved in at once with fever, and he went and died while I wasaway. All honour to my respected father's memory--but he uncommonlynearly killed me, all the same. Give you my word, prince, if I hadn'tcut and run then, when I did, he'd have murdered me like a dog. "

"I suppose you angered him somehow?" asked the prince, looking at themillionaire with considerable curiosity But though there may have beensomething remarkable in the fact that this man was heir to millions ofroubles there was something about him which surprised and interestedthe prince more than that. Rogojin, too, seemed to have taken up theconversation with unusual alacrity it appeared that he was still in aconsiderable state of excitement, if not absolutely feverish, and wasin real need of someone to talk to for the mere sake of talking, assafety-valve to his agitation. 

As for his red-nosed neighbour, the latter--since the information as tothe identity of Rogojin--hung over him, seemed to be living on thehoney of his words and in the breath of his nostrils, catching at everysyllable as though it were a pearl of great price. 

"Oh, yes; I angered him--I certainly did anger him, " replied Rogojin. "But what puts me out so is my brother. Of course my mother couldn't doanything--she's too old--and whatever brother Senka says is law for her!But why couldn't he let me know? He sent a telegram, they say. What'sthe good of a telegram? It frightened my aunt so that she sent it backto the office unopened, and there it's been ever since! It's only thanksto Konief that I heard at all; he wrote me all about it. He says mybrother cut off the gold tassels from my father's coffin, at nightbecause they're worth a lot of money!' says he. Why, I can get himsent off to Siberia for that alone, if I like; it's sacrilege. Here, you--scarecrow!" he added, addressing the clerk at his side, "is itsacrilege or not, by law?'

"Sacrilege, certainly--certainly sacrilege, " said the latter. 

"And it's Siberia for sacrilege, isn't it?"

"Undoubtedly so; Siberia, of course!"

"They will think that I'm still ill, " continued Rogojin to the prince, "but I sloped off quietly, seedy as I was, took the train and came away. Aha, brother Senka, you'll have to open your gates and let me in, myboy! I know he told tales about me to my father--I know that well enoughbut I certainly did rile my father about Nastasia Philipovna that's verysure, and that was my own doing. "

"Nastasia Philipovna?" said the clerk, as though trying to think outsomething. 

"Come, you know nothing about _her_, " said Rogojin, impatiently. 

"And supposing I do know something?" observed the other, triumphantly. 

"Bosh! there are plenty of Nastasia Philipovnas. And what an impertinentbeast you are!" he added angrily. "I thought some creature like youwould hang on to me as soon as I got hold of my money. "

"Oh, but I do know, as it happens, " said the clerk in an aggravatingmanner. "Lebedeff knows all about her. You are pleased to reproach me, your excellency, but what if I prove that I am right after all? NastasiaPhillpovna's family name is Barashkoff--I know, you see-and she is avery well known lady, indeed, and comes of a good family, too. She isconnected with one Totski, Afanasy Ivanovitch, a man of considerableproperty, a director of companies, and so on, and a great friend ofGeneral Epanchin, who is interested in the same matters as he is. "

"My eyes!" said Rogojin, really surprised at last. "The devil take thefellow, how does he know that?"

"Why, he knows everything--Lebedeff knows everything! I was a month ortwo with Lihachof after his father died, your excellency, and while hewas knocking about--he's in the debtor's prison now--I was with him, and he couldn't do a thing without Lebedeff; and I got to know NastasiaPhilipovna and several people at that time. "

"Nastasia Philipovna? Why, you don't mean to say that she andLihachof--" cried Rogojin, turning quite pale. 

"No, no, no, no, no! Nothing of the sort, I assure you!" said Lebedeff, hastily. "Oh dear no, not for the world! Totski's the only man with anychance there. Oh, no! He takes her to his box at the opera at the Frenchtheatre of an evening, and the officers and people all look at her andsay, 'By Jove, there's the famous Nastasia Philipovna!' but no one evergets any further than that, for there is nothing more to say. "

"Yes, it's quite true, " said Rogojin, frowning gloomily; "so Zaleshofftold me. I was walking about the Nefsky one fine day, prince, in myfather's old coat, when she suddenly came out of a shop and steppedinto her carriage. I swear I was all of a blaze at once. Then I metZaleshoff--looking like a hair-dresser's assistant, got up as fine as Idon't know who, while I looked like a tinker. 'Don't flatter yourself, my boy, ' said he; 'she's not for such as you; she's a princess, sheis, and her name is Nastasia Philipovna Barashkoff, and she liveswith Totski, who wishes to get rid of her because he's growing ratherold--fifty-five or so--and wants to marry a certain beauty, theloveliest woman in all Petersburg. ' And then he told me that I couldsee Nastasia Philipovna at the opera-house that evening, if I liked, anddescribed which was her box. Well, I'd like to see my father allowingany of us to go to the theatre; he'd sooner have killed us, any day. However, I went for an hour or so and saw Nastasia Philipovna, and Inever slept a wink all night after. Next morning my father happened togive me two government loan bonds to sell, worth nearly five thousandroubles each. 'Sell them, ' said he, 'and then take seven thousand fivehundred roubles to the office, give them to the cashier, and bring meback the rest of the ten thousand, without looking in anywhere on theway; look sharp, I shall be waiting for you. ' Well, I sold the bonds, but I didn't take the seven thousand roubles to the office; I wentstraight to the English shop and chose a pair of earrings, with adiamond the size of a nut in each. They cost four hundred roubles morethan I had, so I gave my name, and they trusted me. With the earringsI went at once to Zaleshoff's. 'Come on!' I said, 'come on to NastasiaPhilipovna's, ' and off we went without more ado. I tell you I hadn't anotion of what was about me or before me or below my feet all the way;I saw nothing whatever. We went straight into her drawing-room, and thenshe came out to us. 

"I didn't say right out who I was, but Zaleshoff said: 'From ParfenRogojin, in memory of his first meeting with you yesterday; be so kindas to accept these!'

"She opened the parcel, looked at the earrings, and laughed. 

"'Thank your friend Mr. Rogojin for his kind attention, ' says she, andbowed and went off. Why didn't I die there on the spot? The worst of itall was, though, that the beast Zaleshoff got all the credit of it! Iwas short and abominably dressed, and stood and stared in her face andnever said a word, because I was shy, like an ass! And there was he allin the fashion, pomaded and dressed out, with a smart tie on, bowing andscraping; and I bet anything she took him for me all the while!

"'Look here now, ' I said, when we came out, 'none of your interferencehere after this-do you understand?' He laughed: 'And how are you goingto settle up with your father?' says he. I thought I might as well jumpinto the Neva at once without going home first; but it struck me that Iwouldn't, after all, and I went home feeling like one of the damned. "

"My goodness!" shivered the clerk. "And his father, " he added, for theprince's instruction, "and his father would have given a man a ticket tothe other world for ten roubles any day--not to speak of ten thousand!"

The prince observed Rogojin with great curiosity; he seemed paler thanever at this moment. 

"What do you know about it?" cried the latter. "Well, my father learnedthe whole story at once, and Zaleshoff blabbed it all over the townbesides. So he took me upstairs and locked me up, and swore at me for anhour. 'This is only a foretaste, ' says he; 'wait a bit till night comes, and I'll come back and talk to you again. '

"Well, what do you think? The old fellow went straight off to NastasiaPhilipovna, touched the floor with his forehead, and began blubberingand beseeching her on his knees to give him back the diamonds. So afterawhile she brought the box and flew out at him. 'There, ' she says, 'take your earrings, you wretched old miser; although they are ten timesdearer than their value to me now that I know what it must have costParfen to get them! Give Parfen my compliments, ' she says, 'and thankhim very much!' Well, I meanwhile had borrowed twenty-five roubles froma friend, and off I went to Pskoff to my aunt's. The old woman therelectured me so that I left the house and went on a drinking tour roundthe public-houses of the place. I was in a high fever when I got toPskoff, and by nightfall I was lying delirious in the streets somewhereor other!"

"Oho! we'll make Nastasia Philipovna sing another song now!" giggledLebedeff, rubbing his hands with glee. "Hey, my boy, we'll get her someproper earrings now! We'll get her such earrings that--"

"Look here, " cried Rogojin, seizing him fiercely by the arm, "look here, if you so much as name Nastasia Philipovna again, I'll tan your hide assure as you sit there!"

"Aha! do--by all means! if you tan my hide you won't turn me away fromyour society. You'll bind me to you, with your lash, for ever. Ha, ha!here we are at the station, though. "

Sure enough, the train was just steaming in as he spoke. 

Though Rogojin had declared that he left Pskoff secretly, a largecollection of friends had assembled to greet him, and did so withprofuse waving of hats and shouting. 

"Why, there's Zaleshoff here, too!" he muttered, gazing at the scenewith a sort of triumphant but unpleasant smile. Then he suddenly turnedto the prince: "Prince, I don't know why I have taken a fancy to you;perhaps because I met you just when I did. But no, it can't be that, forI met this fellow" (nodding at Lebedeff) "too, and I have not taken afancy to him by any means. Come to see me, prince; we'll take off thosegaiters of yours and dress you up in a smart fur coat, the best wecan buy. You shall have a dress coat, best quality, white waistcoat, anything you like, and your pocket shall be full of money. Come, andyou shall go with me to Nastasia Philipovna's. Now then will you come orno?"

"Accept, accept, Prince Lef Nicolaievitch" said Lebedef solemnly; "don'tlet it slip! Accept, quick!"

Prince Muishkin rose and stretched out his hand courteously, while hereplied with some cordiality:

"I will come with the greatest pleasure, and thank you very much fortaking a fancy to me. I dare say I may even come today if I have time, for I tell you frankly that I like you very much too. I liked youespecially when you told us about the diamond earrings; but I liked youbefore that as well, though you have such a dark-clouded sort of face. Thanks very much for the offer of clothes and a fur coat; I certainlyshall require both clothes and coat very soon. As for money, I havehardly a copeck about me at this moment. "

"You shall have lots of money; by the evening I shall have plenty; socome along!"

"That's true enough, he'll have lots before evening!" put in Lebedeff. 

"But, look here, are you a great hand with the ladies? Let's know thatfirst?" asked Rogojin. 

"Oh no, oh no!" said the prince; "I couldn't, you know--my illness--Ihardly ever saw a soul. "

"H'm! well--here, you fellow-you can come along with me now if youlike!" cried Rogojin to Lebedeff, and so they all left the carriage. 

Lebedeff had his desire. He went off with the noisy group of Rogojin'sfriends towards the Voznesensky, while the prince's route lay towardsthe Litaynaya. It was damp and wet. The prince asked his way ofpassers-by, and finding that he was a couple of miles or so from hisdestination, he determined to take a droshky. 

II. 

General Epanchin lived in his own house near the Litaynaya. Besides thislarge residence--five-sixths of which was let in flats and lodgings-thegeneral was owner of another enormous house in the Sadovaya bringing ineven more rent than the first. Besides these houses he had a delightfullittle estate just out of town, and some sort of factory in another partof the city. General Epanchin, as everyone knew, had a good deal todo with certain government monopolies; he was also a voice, and animportant one, in many rich public companies of various descriptions;in fact, he enjoyed the reputation of being a well-to-do man of busyhabits, many ties, and affluent means. He had made himself indispensablein several quarters, amongst others in his department of the government;and yet it was a known fact that Fedor Ivanovitch Epanchin was a man ofno education whatever, and had absolutely risen from the ranks. 

This last fact could, of course, reflect nothing but credit upon thegeneral; and yet, though unquestionably a sagacious man, he had his ownlittle weaknesses-very excusable ones, --one of which was a dislike toany allusion to the above circumstance. He was undoubtedly clever. Forinstance, he made a point of never asserting himself when he wouldgain more by keeping in the background; and in consequence many exaltedpersonages valued him principally for his humility and simplicity, andbecause "he knew his place. " And yet if these good people could onlyhave had a peep into the mind of this excellent fellow who "knew hisplace" so well! The fact is that, in spite of his knowledge of the worldand his really remarkable abilities, he always liked to appear to becarrying out other people's ideas rather than his own. And also, hisluck seldom failed him, even at cards, for which he had a passion thathe did not attempt to conceal. He played for high stakes, and moved, altogether, in very varied society. 

As to age, General Epanchin was in the very prime of life; that is, about fifty-five years of age, --the flowering time of existence, whenreal enjoyment of life begins. His healthy appearance, good colour, sound, though discoloured teeth, sturdy figure, preoccupied air duringbusiness hours, and jolly good humour during his game at cards in theevening, all bore witness to his success in life, and combined to makeexistence a bed of roses to his excellency. The general was lord of aflourishing family, consisting of his wife and three grown-up daughters. He had married young, while still a lieutenant, his wife being a girl ofabout his own age, who possessed neither beauty nor education, and whobrought him no more than fifty souls of landed property, whichlittle estate served, however, as a nest-egg for far more importantaccumulations. The general never regretted his early marriage, orregarded it as a foolish youthful escapade; and he so respected andfeared his wife that he was very near loving her. Mrs. Epanchin came ofthe princely stock of Muishkin, which if not a brilliant, was, at allevents, a decidedly ancient family; and she was extremely proud of herdescent. 

With a few exceptions, the worthy couple had lived through their longunion very happily. While still young the wife had been able to makeimportant friends among the aristocracy, partly by virtue of her familydescent, and partly by her own exertions; while, in after life, thanksto their wealth and to the position of her husband in the service, shetook her place among the higher circles as by right. 

During these last few years all three of the general'sdaughters-Alexandra, Adelaida, and Aglaya--had grown up and matured. Ofcourse they were only Epanchins, but their mother's family was noble;they might expect considerable fortunes; their father had hopes ofattaining to very high rank indeed in his country's service-all of whichwas satisfactory. All three of the girls were decidedly pretty, eventhe eldest, Alexandra, who was just twenty-five years old. The middledaughter was now twenty-three, while the youngest, Aglaya, was twenty. This youngest girl was absolutely a beauty, and had begun of late toattract considerable attention in society. But this was not all, forevery one of the three was clever, well educated, and accomplished. 

It was a matter of general knowledge that the three girls were very fondof one another, and supported each other in every way; it was even saidthat the two elder ones had made certain sacrifices for the sake ofthe idol of the household, Aglaya. In society they not only dislikedasserting themselves, but were actually retiring. Certainly no one couldblame them for being too arrogant or haughty, and yet everybody was wellaware that they were proud and quite understood their own value. Theeldest was musical, while the second was a clever artist, which factshe had concealed until lately. In a word, the world spoke well of thegirls; but they were not without their enemies, and occasionally peopletalked with horror of the number of books they had read. 

They were in no hurry to marry. They liked good society, but were nottoo keen about it. All this was the more remarkable, because everyonewas well aware of the hopes and aims of their parents. 

It was about eleven o'clock in the forenoon when the prince rang thebell at General Epanchin's door. The general lived on the first flooror flat of the house, as modest a lodging as his position permitted. Aliveried servant opened the door, and the prince was obliged to enterinto long explanations with this gentleman, who, from the first glance, looked at him and his bundle with grave suspicion. At last, however, onthe repeated positive assurance that he really was Prince Muishkin, andmust absolutely see the general on business, the bewildered domesticshowed him into a little ante-chamber leading to a waiting-room thatadjoined the general's study, there handing him over to another servant, whose duty it was to be in this ante-chamber all the morning, andannounce visitors to the general. This second individual wore a dresscoat, and was some forty years of age; he was the general's specialstudy servant, and well aware of his own importance. 

"Wait in the next room, please; and leave your bundle here, " said thedoor-keeper, as he sat down comfortably in his own easy-chair in theante-chamber. He looked at the prince in severe surprise as the lattersettled himself in another chair alongside, with his bundle on hisknees. 

"If you don't mind, I would rather sit here with you, " said the prince;"I should prefer it to sitting in there. "

"Oh, but you can't stay here. You are a visitor--a guest, so to speak. Is it the general himself you wish to see?"

The man evidently could not take in the idea of such a shabby-lookingvisitor, and had decided to ask once more. 

"Yes--I have business--" began the prince. 

"I do not ask you what your business may be, all I have to do is toannounce you; and unless the secretary comes in here I cannot do that. "

The man's suspicions seemed to increase more and more. The prince wastoo unlike the usual run of daily visitors; and although the generalcertainly did receive, on business, all sorts and conditions of men, yetin spite of this fact the servant felt great doubts on the subjectof this particular visitor. The presence of the secretary as anintermediary was, he judged, essential in this case. 

"Surely you--are from abroad?" he inquired at last, in a confused sortof way. He had begun his sentence intending to say, "Surely you are notPrince Muishkin, are you?"

"Yes, straight from the train! Did not you intend to say, 'Surely youare not Prince Muishkin?' just now, but refrained out of politeness?"

"H'm!" grunted the astonished servant. 

"I assure you I am not deceiving you; you shall not have to answer forme. As to my being dressed like this, and carrying a bundle, there'snothing surprising in that--the fact is, my circumstances are notparticularly rosy at this moment. "

"H'm!--no, I'm not afraid of that, you see; I have to announce you, that's all. The secretary will be out directly-that is, unless you--yes, that's the rub--unless you--come, you must allow me to ask you--you'venot come to beg, have you?"

"Oh dear no, you can be perfectly easy on that score. I have quiteanother matter on hand. "

"You must excuse my asking, you know. Your appearance led me tothink--but just wait for the secretary; the general is busy now, but thesecretary is sure to come out. "

"Oh--well, look here, if I have some time to wait, would you mindtelling me, is there any place about where I could have a smoke? I havemy pipe and tobacco with me. "

"_Smoke_?" said the man, in shocked but disdainful surprise, blinking hiseyes at the prince as though he could not believe his senses. "No, sir, you cannot smoke here, and I wonder you are not ashamed of the verysuggestion. Ha, ha! a cool idea that, I declare!"

"Oh, I didn't mean in this room! I know I can't smoke here, of course. I'd adjourn to some other room, wherever you like to show me to. Yousee, I'm used to smoking a good deal, and now I haven't had a puff forthree hours; however, just as you like. "

"Now how on earth am I to announce a man like that?" muttered theservant. "In the first place, you've no right in here at all; you oughtto be in the waiting-room, because you're a sort of visitor--a guest, infact--and I shall catch it for this. Look here, do you intend to take upyou abode with us?" he added, glancing once more at the prince's bundle, which evidently gave him no peace. 

"No, I don't think so. I don't think I should stay even if they wereto invite me. I've simply come to make their acquaintance, and nothingmore. "

"Make their acquaintance?" asked the man, in amazement, and withredoubled suspicion. "Then why did you say you had business with thegeneral?"

"Oh well, very little business. There is one little matter--someadvice I am going to ask him for; but my principal object is simply tointroduce myself, because I am Prince Muishkin, and Madame Epanchin isthe last of her branch of the house, and besides herself and me thereare no other Muishkins left. "

"What--you're a relation then, are you?" asked the servant, sobewildered that he began to feel quite alarmed. 

"Well, hardly so. If you stretch a point, we are relations, of course, but so distant that one cannot really take cognizance of it. I oncewrote to your mistress from abroad, but she did not reply. However, Ihave thought it right to make acquaintance with her on my arrival. I amtelling you all this in order to ease your mind, for I see you are stillfar from comfortable on my account. All you have to do is to announce meas Prince Muishkin, and the object of my visit will be plain enough. IfI am received--very good; if not, well, very good again. But they aresure to receive me, I should think; Madame Epanchin will naturally becurious to see the only remaining representative of her family. Shevalues her Muishkin descent very highly, if I am rightly informed. "

The prince's conversation was artless and confiding to a degree, andthe servant could not help feeling that as from visitor to commonserving-man this state of things was highly improper. His conclusion wasthat one of two things must be the explanation--either that this was abegging impostor, or that the prince, if prince he were, was simply afool, without the slightest ambition; for a sensible prince with anyambition would certainly not wait about in ante-rooms with servants, andtalk of his own private affairs like this. In either case, how was he toannounce this singular visitor?

"I really think I must request you to step into the next room!" he said, with all the insistence he could muster. 

"Why? If I had been sitting there now, I should not have had theopportunity of making these personal explanations. I see you are stilluneasy about me and keep eyeing my cloak and bundle. Don't you thinkyou might go in yourself now, without waiting for the secretary to comeout?"

"No, no! I can't announce a visitor like yourself without the secretary. Besides the general said he was not to be disturbed--he is with theColonel C--. Gavrila Ardalionovitch goes in without announcing. "

"Who may that be? a clerk?"

"What? Gavrila Ardalionovitch? Oh no; he belongs to one of thecompanies. Look here, at all events put your bundle down, here. "

"Yes, I will if I may; and--can I take off my cloak"

"Of course; you can't go in _there_ with it on, anyhow. "

The prince rose and took off his mantle, revealing a neat enough morningcostume--a little worn, but well made. He wore a steel watch chain andfrom this chain there hung a silver Geneva watch. Fool the prince mightbe, still, the general's servant felt that it was not correct for him tocontinue to converse thus with a visitor, in spite of the fact that theprince pleased him somehow. 

"And what time of day does the lady receive?" the latter asked, reseating himself in his old place. 

"Oh, that's not in my province! I believe she receives at any time; itdepends upon the visitors. The dressmaker goes in at eleven. GavrilaArdalionovitch is allowed much earlier than other people, too; he iseven admitted to early lunch now and then. "

"It is much warmer in the rooms here than it is abroad at this season, "observed the prince; "but it is much warmer there out of doors. As forthe houses--a Russian can't live in them in the winter until he getsaccustomed to them. "

"Don't they heat them at all?"

"Well, they do heat them a little; but the houses and stoves are sodifferent to ours. "

"H'm! were you long away?"

"Four years! and I was in the same place nearly all the time, --in onevillage. "

"You must have forgotten Russia, hadn't you?"

"Yes, indeed I had--a good deal; and, would you believe it, I oftenwonder at myself for not having forgotten how to speak Russian? Evennow, as I talk to you, I keep saying to myself 'how well I am speakingit. ' Perhaps that is partly why I am so talkative this morning. I assureyou, ever since yesterday evening I have had the strongest desire to goon and on talking Russian. "

"H'm! yes; did you live in Petersburg in former years?"

This good flunkey, in spite of his conscientious scruples, really couldnot resist continuing such a very genteel and agreeable conversation. 

"In Petersburg? Oh no! hardly at all, and now they say so much ischanged in the place that even those who did know it well are obliged torelearn what they knew. They talk a good deal about the new law courts, and changes there, don't they?"

"H'm! yes, that's true enough. Well now, how is the law over there, dothey administer it more justly than here?"

"Oh, I don't know about that! I've heard much that is good about ourlegal administration, too. There is no capital punishment here for onething. "

"Is there over there?"

"Yes--I saw an execution in France--at Lyons. Schneider took me overwith him to see it. "

"What, did they hang the fellow?"

"No, they cut off people's heads in France. "

"What did the fellow do?--yell?"

"Oh no--it's the work of an instant. They put a man inside a frame anda sort of broad knife falls by machinery--they call the thing aguillotine-it falls with fearful force and weight-the head springsoff so quickly that you can't wink your eye in between. But all thepreparations are so dreadful. When they announce the sentence, you know, and prepare the criminal and tie his hands, and cart him off to thescaffold--that's the fearful part of the business. The people all crowdround--even women-though they don't at all approve of women looking on. "

"No, it's not a thing for women. "

"Of course not--of course not!--bah! The criminal was a fine intelligentfearless man; Le Gros was his name; and I may tell you--believe it ornot, as you like--that when that man stepped upon the scaffold he _cried_, he did indeed, --he was as white as a bit of paper. Isn't it a dreadfulidea that he should have cried--cried! Whoever heard of a grown mancrying from fear--not a child, but a man who never had cried before--agrown man of forty-five years. Imagine what must have been going on inthat man's mind at such a moment; what dreadful convulsions his wholespirit must have endured; it is an outrage on the soul that's what itis. Because it is said 'thou shalt not kill, ' is he to be killed becausehe murdered some one else? No, it is not right, it's an impossibletheory. I assure you, I saw the sight a month ago and it's dancingbefore my eyes to this moment. I dream of it, often. "

The prince had grown animated as he spoke, and a tinge of coloursuffused his pale face, though his way of talking was as quiet as ever. The servant followed his words with sympathetic interest. Clearly hewas not at all anxious to bring the conversation to an end. Who knows?Perhaps he too was a man of imagination and with some capacity forthought. 

"Well, at all events it is a good thing that there's no pain when thepoor fellow's head flies off, " he remarked. 

"Do you know, though, " cried the prince warmly, "you made that remarknow, and everyone says the same thing, and the machine is designed withthe purpose of avoiding pain, this guillotine I mean; but a thought cameinto my head then: what if it be a bad plan after all? You may laugh atmy idea, perhaps--but I could not help its occurring to me all the same. Now with the rack and tortures and so on--you suffer terrible pain ofcourse; but then your torture is bodily pain only (although no doubt youhave plenty of that) until you die. But _here_ I should imagine themost terrible part of the whole punishment is, not the bodily pain atall--but the certain knowledge that in an hour, --then in ten minutes, then in half a minute, then now--this very _instant_--your soul mustquit your body and that you will no longer be a man--and that thisis certain, _certain_! That's the point--the certainty of it. Just thatinstant when you place your head on the block and hear the iron grateover your head--then--that quarter of a second is the most awful of all. 

"This is not my own fantastical opinion--many people have thought thesame; but I feel it so deeply that I'll tell you what I think. I believethat to execute a man for murder is to punish him immeasurably moredreadfully than is equivalent to his crime. A murder by sentence isfar more dreadful than a murder committed by a criminal. The man who isattacked by robbers at night, in a dark wood, or anywhere, undoubtedlyhopes and hopes that he may yet escape until the very moment of hisdeath. There are plenty of instances of a man running away, or imploringfor mercy--at all events hoping on in some degree--even after his throatwas cut. But in the case of an execution, that last hope--having whichit is so immeasurably less dreadful to die, --is taken away from thewretch and _certainty_ substituted in its place! There is his sentence, and with it that terrible certainty that he cannot possibly escapedeath--which, I consider, must be the most dreadful anguish in theworld. You may place a soldier before a cannon's mouth in battle, andfire upon him--and he will still hope. But read to that same soldier hisdeath-sentence, and he will either go mad or burst into tears. Who daresto say that any man can suffer this without going mad? No, no! it isan abuse, a shame, it is unnecessary--why should such a thing exist?Doubtless there may be men who have been sentenced, who have sufferedthis mental anguish for a while and then have been reprieved; perhapssuch men may have been able to relate their feelings afterwards. OurLord Christ spoke of this anguish and dread. No! no! no! No man shouldbe treated so, no man, no man!"

The servant, though of course he could not have expressed all thisas the prince did, still clearly entered into it and was greatlyconciliated, as was evident from the increased amiability of hisexpression. "If you are really very anxious for a smoke, " he remarked, "I think it might possibly be managed, if you are very quick about it. You see they might come out and inquire for you, and you wouldn't be onthe spot. You see that door there? Go in there and you'll find a littleroom on the right; you can smoke there, only open the window, because Iought not to allow it really, and--. " But there was no time, after all. 

A young fellow entered the ante-room at this moment, with a bundleof papers in his hand. The footman hastened to help him take off hisovercoat. The new arrival glanced at the prince out of the corners ofhis eyes. 

"This gentleman declares, Gavrila Ardalionovitch, " began the man, confidentially and almost familiarly, "that he is Prince Muishkin anda relative of Madame Epanchin's. He has just arrived from abroad, withnothing but a bundle by way of luggage--. "

The prince did not hear the rest, because at this point the servantcontinued his communication in a whisper. 

Gavrila Ardalionovitch listened attentively, and gazed at the princewith great curiosity. At last he motioned the man aside and steppedhurriedly towards the prince. 

"Are you Prince Muishkin?" he asked, with the greatest courtesy andamiability. 

He was a remarkably handsome young fellow of some twenty-eight summers, fair and of middle height; he wore a small beard, and his face was mostintelligent. Yet his smile, in spite of its sweetness, was a littlethin, if I may so call it, and showed his teeth too evenly; hisgaze though decidedly good-humoured and ingenuous, was a trifle tooinquisitive and intent to be altogether agreeable. 

"Probably when he is alone he looks quite different, and hardly smilesat all!" thought the prince. 

He explained about himself in a few words, very much the same as he hadtold the footman and Rogojin beforehand. 

Gavrila Ardalionovitch meanwhile seemed to be trying to recallsomething. 

"Was it not you, then, who sent a letter a year or less ago--fromSwitzerland, I think it was--to Elizabetha Prokofievna (Mrs. Epanchin)?"

"It was. "

"Oh, then, of course they will remember who you are. You wish to seethe general? I'll tell him at once--he will be free in a minute; butyou--you had better wait in the ante-chamber, --hadn't you? Why is hehere?" he added, severely, to the man. 

"I tell you, sir, he wished it himself!"

At this moment the study door opened, and a military man, with aportfolio under his arm, came out talking loudly, and after biddinggood-bye to someone inside, took his departure. 

"You there, Gania?" cried a voice from the study, "come in here, willyou?"

Gavrila Ardalionovitch nodded to the prince and entered the roomhastily. 

A couple of minutes later the door opened again and the affable voice ofGania cried:

"Come in please, prince!"

III. 

General Ivan Fedorovitch Epanchin was standing In the middle of theroom, and gazed with great curiosity at the prince as he entered. Heeven advanced a couple of steps to meet him. 

The prince came forward and introduced himself. 

"Quite so, " replied the general, "and what can I do for you?"

"Oh, I have no special business; my principal object was to make youracquaintance. I should not like to disturb you. I do not know your timesand arrangements here, you see, but I have only just arrived. I camestraight from the station. I am come direct from Switzerland. "

The general very nearly smiled, but thought better of it and kept hissmile back. Then he reflected, blinked his eyes, stared at his guestonce more from head to foot; then abruptly motioned him to a chair, satdown himself, and waited with some impatience for the prince to speak. 

Gania stood at his table in the far corner of the room, turning overpapers. 

"I have not much time for making acquaintances, as a rule, " said thegeneral, "but as, of course, you have your object in coming, I--"

"I felt sure you would think I had some object in view when I resolvedto pay you this visit, " the prince interrupted; "but I give you my word, beyond the pleasure of making your acquaintance I had no personal objectwhatever. "

"The pleasure is, of course, mutual; but life is not all pleasure, asyou are aware. There is such a thing as business, and I really do notsee what possible reason there can be, or what we have in common to--"

"Oh, there is no reason, of course, and I suppose there is nothing incommon between us, or very little; for if I am Prince Muishkin, and yourwife happens to be a member of my house, that can hardly be called a'reason. ' I quite understand that. And yet that was my whole motive forcoming. You see I have not been in Russia for four years, and knew verylittle about anything when I left. I had been very ill for a long time, and I feel now the need of a few good friends. In fact, I have a certainquestion upon which I much need advice, and do not know whom to go tofor it. I thought of your family when I was passing through Berlin. 'They are almost relations, ' I said to myself, ' so I'll begin with them;perhaps we may get on with each other, I with them and they with me, ifthey are kind people;' and I have heard that you are very kind people!"

"Oh, thank you, thank you, I'm sure, " replied the general, considerablytaken aback. "May I ask where you have taken up your quarters?"

"Nowhere, as yet. "

"What, straight from the station to my house? And how about yourluggage?"

"I only had a small bundle, containing linen, with me, nothing more. Ican carry it in my hand, easily. There will be plenty of time to take aroom in some hotel by the evening. "

"Oh, then you _do_ intend to take a room?"

"Of course. "

"To judge from your words, you came straight to my house with theintention of staying there. "

"That could only have been on your invitation. I confess, however, thatI should not have stayed here even if you had invited me, not for anyparticular reason, but because it is--well, contrary to my practice andnature, somehow. "

"Oh, indeed! Then it is perhaps as well that I neither _did_ invite you, nor _do_ invite you now. Excuse me, prince, but we had better make thismatter clear, once for all. We have just agreed that with regard to ourrelationship there is not much to be said, though, of course, it wouldhave been very delightful to us to feel that such relationship didactually exist; therefore, perhaps--"

"Therefore, perhaps I had better get up and go away?" said the prince, laughing merrily as he rose from his place; just as merrily as thoughthe circumstances were by no means strained or difficult. "And I giveyou my word, general, that though I know nothing whatever of manners andcustoms of society, and how people live and all that, yet I felt quitesure that this visit of mine would end exactly as it has ended now. Oh, well, I suppose it's all right; especially as my letter was notanswered. Well, good-bye, and forgive me for having disturbed you!"

The prince's expression was so good-natured at this moment, and soentirely free from even a suspicion of unpleasant feeling was thesmile with which he looked at the general as he spoke, that the lattersuddenly paused, and appeared to gaze at his guest from quite a newpoint of view, all in an instant. 

"Do you know, prince, " he said, in quite a different tone, "I do notknow you at all, yet, and after all, Elizabetha Prokofievna wouldvery likely be pleased to have a peep at a man of her own name. Wait alittle, if you don't mind, and if you have time to spare?"

"Oh, I assure you I've lots of time, my time is entirely my own!" Andthe prince immediately replaced his soft, round hat on the table. "Iconfess, I thought Elizabetha Prokofievna would very likely rememberthat I had written her a letter. Just now your servant--outsidethere--was dreadfully suspicious that I had come to beg of you. Inoticed that! Probably he has very strict instructions on that score;but I assure you I did not come to beg. I came to make some friends. But I am rather bothered at having disturbed you; that's all I careabout. --"

"Look here, prince, " said the general, with a cordial smile, "if youreally are the sort of man you appear to be, it may be a source of greatpleasure to us to make your better acquaintance; but, you see, I ama very busy man, and have to be perpetually sitting here and signingpapers, or off to see his excellency, or to my department, or somewhere;so that though I should be glad to see more of people, nice people--yousee, I--however, I am sure you are so well brought up that you will seeat once, and--but how old are you, prince?"

"Twenty-six. "

"No? I thought you very much younger. "

"Yes, they say I have a 'young' face. As to disturbing you I shall soonlearn to avoid doing that, for I hate disturbing people. Besides, youand I are so differently constituted, I should think, that there must bevery little in common between us. Not that I will ever believe there is_nothing_ in common between any two people, as some declare is the case. I am sure people make a great mistake in sorting each other into groups, by appearances; but I am boring you, I see, you--"

"Just two words: have you any means at all? Or perhaps you may beintending to undertake some sort of employment? Excuse my questioningyou, but--"

"Oh, my dear sir, I esteem and understand your kindness in putting thequestion. No; at present I have no means whatever, and no employmenteither, but I hope to find some. I was living on other people abroad. Schneider, the professor who treated me and taught me, too, inSwitzerland, gave me just enough money for my journey, so that now Ihave but a few copecks left. There certainly is one question upon whichI am anxious to have advice, but--"

"Tell me, how do you intend to live now, and what are your plans?"interrupted the general. 

"I wish to work, somehow or other. "

"Oh yes, but then, you see, you are a philosopher. Have you any talents, or ability in any direction--that is, any that would bring in money andbread? Excuse me again--"

"Oh, don't apologize. No, I don't think I have either talents or specialabilities of any kind; on the contrary. I have always been an invalidand unable to learn much. As for bread, I should think--"

The general interrupted once more with questions; while the prince againreplied with the narrative we have heard before. It appeared that thegeneral had known Pavlicheff; but why the latter had taken an interestin the prince, that young gentleman could not explain; probably byvirtue of the old friendship with his father, he thought. 

The prince had been left an orphan when quite a little child, andPavlicheff had entrusted him to an old lady, a relative of his own, living in the country, the child needing the fresh air and exercise ofcountry life. He was educated, first by a governess, and afterwards by atutor, but could not remember much about this time of his life. His fitswere so frequent then, that they made almost an idiot of him (the princeused the expression "idiot" himself). Pavlicheff had met ProfessorSchneider in Berlin, and the latter had persuaded him to send the boyto Switzerland, to Schneider's establishment there, for the cure of hisepilepsy, and, five years before this time, the prince was sent off. ButPavlicheff had died two or three years since, and Schneider had himselfsupported the young fellow, from that day to this, at his own expense. Although he had not quite cured him, he had greatly improved hiscondition; and now, at last, at the prince's own desire, and becauseof a certain matter which came to the ears of the latter, Schneider haddespatched the young man to Russia. 

The general was much astonished. 

"Then you have no one, absolutely _no_ one in Russia?" he asked. 

"No one, at present; but I hope to make friends; and then I have aletter from--"

"At all events, " put in the general, not listening to the news about theletter, "at all events, you must have learned _something_, and yourmalady would not prevent your undertaking some easy work, in one of thedepartments, for instance?

"Oh dear no, oh no! As for a situation, I should much like to find onefor I am anxious to discover what I really am fit for. I have learneda good deal in the last four years, and, besides, I read a great manyRussian books. "

"Russian books, indeed? Then, of course, you can read and write quitecorrectly?"

"Oh dear, yes!"

"Capital! And your handwriting?"

"Ah, there I am _really_ talented! I may say I am a real caligraphist. Letme write you something, just to show you, " said the prince, with someexcitement. 

"With pleasure! In fact, it is very necessary. I like your readiness, prince; in fact, I must say--I-I-like you very well, altogether, " saidthe general. 

"What delightful writing materials you have here, such a lot of pencilsand things, and what beautiful paper! It's a charming room altogether. I know that picture, it's a Swiss view. I'm sure the artist painted itfrom nature, and that I have seen the very place--"

"Quite likely, though I bought it here. Gania, give the prince somepaper. Here are pens and paper; now then, take this table. What'sthis?" the general continued to Gania, who had that moment taken a largephotograph out of his portfolio, and shown it to his senior. "Halloa!Nastasia Philipovna! Did she send it you herself? Herself?" he inquired, with much curiosity and great animation. 

"She gave it me just now, when I called in to congratulate her. I askedher for it long ago. I don't know whether she meant it for a hint thatI had come empty-handed, without a present for her birthday, or what, "added Gania, with an unpleasant smile. 

"Oh, nonsense, nonsense, " said the general, with decision. "Whatextraordinary ideas you have, Gania! As if she would hint; that'snot her way at all. Besides, what could you give her, without havingthousands at your disposal? You might have given her your portrait, however. Has she ever asked you for it?"

"No, not yet. Very likely she never will. I suppose you haven'tforgotten about tonight, have you, Ivan Fedorovitch? You were one ofthose specially invited, you know. "

"Oh no, I remember all right, and I shall go, of course. I should thinkso! She's twenty-five years old today! And, you know, Gania, you mustbe ready for great things; she has promised both myself and AfanasyIvanovitch that she will give a decided answer tonight, yes or no. So beprepared!"

Gania suddenly became so ill at ease that his face grew paler than ever. 

"Are you sure she said that?" he asked, and his voice seemed to quiveras he spoke. 

"Yes, she promised. We both worried her so that she gave in; but shewished us to tell you nothing about it until the day. "

The general watched Gania's confusion intently, and clearly did not likeit. 

"Remember, Ivan Fedorovitch, " said Gania, in great agitation, "that Iwas to be free too, until her decision; and that even then I was to havemy 'yes or no' free. "

"Why, don't you, aren't you--" began the general, in alarm. 

"Oh, don't misunderstand--"

"But, my dear fellow, what are you doing, what do you mean?"

"Oh, I'm not rejecting her. I may have expressed myself badly, but Ididn't mean that. "

"Reject her! I should think not!" said the general with annoyance, andapparently not in the least anxious to conceal it. "Why, my dearfellow, it's not a question of your rejecting her, it is whether you areprepared to receive her consent joyfully, and with proper satisfaction. How are things going on at home?"

"At home? Oh, I can do as I like there, of course; only my father willmake a fool of himself, as usual. He is rapidly becoming a generalnuisance. I don't ever talk to him now, but I hold him in cheek, safeenough. I swear if it had not been for my mother, I should have shownhim the way out, long ago. My mother is always crying, of course, and mysister sulks. I had to tell them at last that I intended to be master ofmy own destiny, and that I expect to be obeyed at home. At least, I gavemy sister to understand as much, and my mother was present. "

"Well, I must say, I cannot understand it!" said the general, shrugginghis shoulders and dropping his hands. "You remember your mother, NinaAlexandrovna, that day she came and sat here and groaned-and when Iasked her what was the matter, she says, 'Oh, it's such a DISHONOURto us!' dishonour! Stuff and nonsense! I should like to know who canreproach Nastasia Philipovna, or who can say a word of any kind againsther. Did she mean because Nastasia had been living with Totski? Whatnonsense it is! You would not let her come near your daughters, saysNina Alexandrovna. What next, I wonder? I don't see how she can failto--to understand--"

"Her own position?" prompted Gania. "She does understand. Don't beannoyed with her. I have warned her not to meddle in other people'saffairs. However, although there's comparative peace at home at present, the storm will break if anything is finally settled tonight. "

The prince heard the whole of the foregoing conversation, as he sat atthe table, writing. He finished at last, and brought the result of hislabour to the general's desk. 

"So this is Nastasia Philipovna, " he said, looking attentively andcuriously at the portrait. "How wonderfully beautiful!" he immediatelyadded, with warmth. The picture was certainly that of an unusuallylovely woman. She was photographed in a black silk dress of simpledesign, her hair was evidently dark and plainly arranged, her eyes weredeep and thoughtful, the expression of her face passionate, but proud. She was rather thin, perhaps, and a little pale. Both Gania and thegeneral gazed at the prince in amazement. 

"How do you know it's Nastasia Philipovna?" asked the general; "yousurely don't know her already, do you?"

"Yes, I do! I have only been one day in Russia, but I have heard ofthe great beauty!" And the prince proceeded to narrate his meeting withRogojin in the train and the whole of the latter's story. 

"There's news!" said the general in some excitement, after listening tothe story with engrossed attention. 

"Oh, of course it's nothing but humbug!" cried Gania, a littledisturbed, however. "It's all humbug; the young merchant was pleasedto indulge in a little innocent recreation! I have heard something ofRogojin!"

"Yes, so have I!" replied the general. "Nastasia Philipovna told usall about the earrings that very day. But now it is quite a differentmatter. You see the fellow really has a million of roubles, and he ispassionately in love. The whole story smells of passion, and we allknow what this class of gentry is capable of when infatuated. I am muchafraid of some disagreeable scandal, I am indeed!"

"You are afraid of the million, I suppose, " said Gania, grinning andshowing his teeth. 

"And you are NOT, I presume, eh?"

"How did he strike you, prince?" asked Gania, suddenly. "Did he seem tobe a serious sort of a man, or just a common rowdy fellow? What was yourown opinion about the matter?"

While Gania put this question, a new idea suddenly flashed into hisbrain, and blazed out, impatiently, in his eyes. The general, who wasreally agitated and disturbed, looked at the prince too, but did notseem to expect much from his reply. 

"I really don't quite know how to tell you, " replied the prince, "butit certainly did seem to me that the man was full of passion, and not, perhaps, quite healthy passion. He seemed to be still far from well. Very likely he will be in bed again in a day or two, especially if helives fast. "

"No! do you think so?" said the general, catching at the idea. 

"Yes, I do think so!"

"Yes, but the sort of scandal I referred to may happen at any moment. Itmay be this very evening, " remarked Gania to the general, with a smile. 

"Of course; quite so. In that case it all depends upon what is going onin her brain at this moment. "

"You know the kind of person she is at times. "

"How? What kind of person is she?" cried the general, arrived at thelimits of his patience. "Look here, Gania, don't you go annoying hertonight What you are to do is to be as agreeable towards her as ever youcan. Well, what are you smiling at? You must understand, Gania, thatI have no interest whatever in speaking like this. Whichever way thequestion is settled, it will be to my advantage. Nothing will moveTotski from his resolution, so I run no risk. If there is anything Idesire, you must know that it is your benefit only. Can't you trust me?You are a sensible fellow, and I have been counting on you; for, in thismatter, that, that--"

"Yes, that's the chief thing, " said Gania, helping the general out ofhis difficulties again, and curling his lips in an envenomed smile, which he did not attempt to conceal. He gazed with his fevered eyesstraight into those of the general, as though he were anxious that thelatter might read his thoughts. 

The general grew purple with anger. 

"Yes, of course it is the chief thing!" he cried, looking sharply atGania. "What a very curious man you are, Gania! You actually seem tobe GLAD to hear of this millionaire fellow's arrival--just as though youwished for an excuse to get out of the whole thing. This is an affair inwhich you ought to act honestly with both sides, and give due warning, to avoid compromising others. But, even now, there is still time. Doyou understand me? I wish to know whether you desire this arrangement orwhether you do not? If not, say so, --and-and welcome! No one is tryingto force you into the snare, Gavrila Ardalionovitch, if you see a snarein the matter, at least. "

"I do desire it, " murmured Gania, softly but firmly, lowering his eyes;and he relapsed into gloomy silence. 

The general was satisfied. He had excited himself, and was evidentlynow regretting that he had gone so far. He turned to the prince, andsuddenly the disagreeable thought of the latter's presence struckhim, and the certainty that he must have heard every word of theconversation. But he felt at ease in another moment; it only needed oneglance at the prince to see that in that quarter there was nothing tofear. 

"Oh!" cried the general, catching sight of the prince's specimen ofcaligraphy, which the latter had now handed him for inspection. "Why, this is simply beautiful; look at that, Gania, there's real talentthere!"

On a sheet of thick writing-paper the prince had written in medievalcharacters the legend:

"The gentle Abbot Pafnute signed this. "

"There, " explained the prince, with great delight and animation, "there, that's the abbot's real signature--from a manuscript of the fourteenthcentury. All these old abbots and bishops used to write mostbeautifully, with such taste and so much care and diligence. Have you nocopy of Pogodin, general? If you had one I could show you another type. Stop a bit--here you have the large round writing common in Franceduring the eighteenth century. Some of the letters are shaped quitedifferently from those now in use. It was the writing current then, andemployed by public writers generally. I copied this from one of them, and you can see how good it is. Look at the well-rounded a and d. Ihave tried to translate the French character into the Russian letters--adifficult thing to do, but I think I have succeeded fairly. Here is afine sentence, written in a good, original hand--'Zeal triumphs overall. ' That is the script of the Russian War Office. That is how officialdocuments addressed to important personages should be written. Theletters are round, the type black, and the style somewhat remarkable. Astylist would not allow these ornaments, or attempts at flourishes--justlook at these unfinished tails!--but it has distinction and reallydepicts the soul of the writer. He would like to give play to hisimagination, and follow the inspiration of his genius, but a soldier isonly at ease in the guard-room, and the pen stops half-way, a slaveto discipline. How delightful! The first time I met an example of thishandwriting, I was positively astonished, and where do you think Ichanced to find it? In Switzerland, of all places! Now that is anordinary English hand. It can hardly be improved, it is so refined andexquisite--almost perfection. This is an example of another kind, a mixture of styles. The copy was given me by a French commercialtraveller. It is founded on the English, but the downstrokes are alittle blacker, and more marked. Notice that the oval has some slightmodification--it is more rounded. This writing allows for flourishes;now a flourish is a dangerous thing! Its use requires such taste, but, if successful, what a distinction it gives to the whole! It results inan incomparable type--one to fall in love with!"

"Dear me! How you have gone into all the refinements and details of thequestion! Why, my dear fellow, you are not a caligraphist, you are anartist! Eh, Gania?"

"Wonderful!" said Gania. "And he knows it too, " he added, with asarcastic smile. 

"You may smile, --but there's a career in this, " said the general. "Youdon't know what a great personage I shall show this to, prince. Why, youcan command a situation at thirty-five roubles per month to start with. However, it's half-past twelve, " he concluded, looking at his watch; "soto business, prince, for I must be setting to work and shall not see youagain today. Sit down a minute. I have told you that I cannot receiveyou myself very often, but I should like to be of some assistance toyou, some small assistance, of a kind that would give you satisfaction. I shall find you a place in one of the State departments, an easyplace--but you will require to be accurate. Now, as to your plans--inthe house, or rather in the family of Gania here--my young friend, whomI hope you will know better--his mother and sister have prepared twoor three rooms for lodgers, and let them to highly recommended youngfellows, with board and attendance. I am sure Nina Alexandrovna willtake you in on my recommendation. There you will be comfortable and welltaken care of; for I do not think, prince, that you are the sort ofman to be left to the mercy of Fate in a town like Petersburg. NinaAlexandrovna, Gania's mother, and Varvara Alexandrovna, are ladies forwhom I have the highest possible esteem and respect. Nina Alexandrovnais the wife of General Ardalion Alexandrovitch, my old brother in arms, with whom, I regret to say, on account of certain circumstances, I am nolonger acquainted. I give you all this information, prince, in orderto make it clear to you that I am personally recommending you to thisfamily, and that in so doing, I am more or less taking upon myself toanswer for you. The terms are most reasonable, and I trust that yoursalary will very shortly prove amply sufficient for your expenditure. Ofcourse pocket-money is a necessity, if only a little; do not be angry, prince, if I strongly recommend you to avoid carrying money in yourpocket. But as your purse is quite empty at the present moment, you mustallow me to press these twenty-five roubles upon your acceptance, assomething to begin with. Of course we will settle this little matteranother time, and if you are the upright, honest man you look, Ianticipate very little trouble between us on that score. Taking so muchinterest in you as you may perceive I do, I am not without my object, and you shall know it in good time. You see, I am perfectly candid withyou. I hope, Gania, you have nothing to say against the prince's takingup his abode in your house?"

"Oh, on the contrary! my mother will be very glad, " said Gania, courteously and kindly. 

"I think only one of your rooms is engaged as yet, is it not? Thatfellow Ferd-Ferd--"

"Ferdishenko. "

"Yes--I don't like that Ferdishenko. I can't understand why NastasiaPhilipovna encourages him so. Is he really her cousin, as he says?"

"Oh dear no, it's all a joke. No more cousin than I am. "

"Well, what do you think of the arrangement, prince?"

"Thank you, general; you have behaved very kindly to me; all the moreso since I did not ask you to help me. I don't say that out of pride. Icertainly did not know where to lay my head tonight. Rogojin asked me tocome to his house, of course, but--"

"Rogojin? No, no, my good fellow. I should strongly recommend you, paternally, --or, if you prefer it, as a friend, --to forget all aboutRogojin, and, in fact, to stick to the family into which you are aboutto enter. "

"Thank you, " began the prince; "and since you are so very kind there isjust one matter which I--"

"You must really excuse me, " interrupted the general, "but I positivelyhaven't another moment now. I shall just tell Elizabetha Prokofievnaabout you, and if she wishes to receive you at once--as I shall adviseher--I strongly recommend you to ingratiate yourself with her at thefirst opportunity, for my wife may be of the greatest service to you inmany ways. If she cannot receive you now, you must be content to waittill another time. Meanwhile you, Gania, just look over these accounts, will you? We mustn't forget to finish off that matter--"

The general left the room, and the prince never succeeded in broachingthe business which he had on hand, though he had endeavoured to do sofour times. 

Gania lit a cigarette and offered one to the prince. The latter acceptedthe offer, but did not talk, being unwilling to disturb Gania's work. He commenced to examine the study and its contents. But Gania hardlyso much as glanced at the papers lying before him; he was absent andthoughtful, and his smile and general appearance struck the prince stillmore disagreeably now that the two were left alone together. 

Suddenly Gania approached our hero who was at the moment standing overNastasia Philipovna's portrait, gazing at it. 

"Do you admire that sort of woman, prince?" he asked, looking intentlyat him. He seemed to have some special object in the question. 

"It's a wonderful face, " said the prince, "and I feel sure that herdestiny is not by any means an ordinary, uneventful one. Her face issmiling enough, but she must have suffered terribly--hasn't she? Hereyes show it--those two bones there, the little points under her eyes, just where the cheek begins. It's a proud face too, terribly proud! AndI--I can't say whether she is good and kind, or not. Oh, if she be butgood! That would make all well!"

"And would you marry a woman like that, now?" continued Gania, nevertaking his excited eyes off the prince's face. 

"I cannot marry at all, " said the latter. "I am an invalid. "

"Would Rogojin marry her, do you think?"

"Why not? Certainly he would, I should think. He would marry hertomorrow!--marry her tomorrow and murder her in a week!"

Hardly had the prince uttered the last word when Gania gave such afearful shudder that the prince almost cried out. 

"What's the matter?" said he, seizing Gania's hand. 

"Your highness! His excellency begs your presence in her excellency'sapartments!" announced the footman, appearing at the door. 

The prince immediately followed the man out of the room. 

IV. 

ALL three of the Miss Epanchins were fine, healthy girls, well-grown, with good shoulders and busts, and strong--almost masculine--hands;and, of course, with all the above attributes, they enjoyed capitalappetites, of which they were not in the least ashamed. 

Elizabetha Prokofievna sometimes informed the girls that they werea little too candid in this matter, but in spite of their outwarddeference to their mother these three young women, in solemn conclave, had long agreed to modify the unquestioning obedience which they hadbeen in the habit of according to her; and Mrs. General Epanchin hadjudged it better to say nothing about it, though, of course, she waswell aware of the fact. 

It is true that her nature sometimes rebelled against these dictatesof reason, and that she grew yearly more capricious and impatient; buthaving a respectful and well-disciplined husband under her thumb atall times, she found it possible, as a rule, to empty any littleaccumulations of spleen upon his head, and therefore the harmony of thefamily was kept duly balanced, and things went as smoothly as familymatters can. 

Mrs. Epanchin had a fair appetite herself, and generally took her shareof the capital mid-day lunch which was always served for the girls, andwhich was nearly as good as a dinner. The young ladies used to have acup of coffee each before this meal, at ten o'clock, while still in bed. This was a favourite and unalterable arrangement with them. At half-pasttwelve, the table was laid in the small dining-room, and occasionallythe general himself appeared at the family gathering, if he had time. 

Besides tea and coffee, cheese, honey, butter, pan-cakes of variouskinds (the lady of the house loved these best), cutlets, and so on, there was generally strong beef soup, and other substantial delicacies. 

On the particular morning on which our story has opened, the family hadassembled in the dining-room, and were waiting the general's appearance, the latter having promised to come this day. If he had been one momentlate, he would have been sent for at once; but he turned up punctually. 

As he came forward to wish his wife good-morning and kiss her hands, ashis custom was, he observed something in her look which boded ill. Hethought he knew the reason, and had expected it, but still, he was notaltogether comfortable. His daughters advanced to kiss him, too, andthough they did not look exactly angry, there was something strange intheir expression as well. 

The general was, owing to certain circumstances, a little inclined to betoo suspicious at home, and needlessly nervous; but, as an experiencedfather and husband, he judged it better to take measures at once toprotect himself from any dangers there might be in the air. 

However, I hope I shall not interfere with the proper sequence of mynarrative too much, if I diverge for a moment at this point, in orderto explain the mutual relations between General Epanchin's family andothers acting a part in this history, at the time when we take up thethread of their destiny. I have already stated that the general, thoughhe was a man of lowly origin, and of poor education, was, for all that, an experienced and talented husband and father. Among other things, he considered it undesirable to hurry his daughters to the matrimonialaltar and to worry them too much with assurances of his paternal wishesfor their happiness, as is the custom among parents of many grown-updaughters. He even succeeded in ranging his wife on his side on thisquestion, though he found the feat very difficult to accomplish, becauseunnatural; but the general's arguments were conclusive, and founded uponobvious facts. The general considered that the girls' taste and goodsense should be allowed to develop and mature deliberately, and that theparents' duty should merely be to keep watch, in order that no strangeor undesirable choice be made; but that the selection once effected, both father and mother were bound from that moment to enter heart andsoul into the cause, and to see that the matter progressed withouthindrance until the altar should be happily reached. 

Besides this, it was clear that the Epanchins' position gained eachyear, with geometrical accuracy, both as to financial solidity andsocial weight; and, therefore, the longer the girls waited, the betterwas their chance of making a brilliant match. 

But again, amidst the incontrovertible facts just recorded, one more, equally significant, rose up to confront the family; and this was, that the eldest daughter, Alexandra, had imperceptibly arrived at hertwenty-fifth birthday. Almost at the same moment, Afanasy IvanovitchTotski, a man of immense wealth, high connections, and good standing, announced his intention of marrying. Afanasy Ivanovitch was a gentlemanof fifty-five years of age, artistically gifted, and of most refinedtastes. He wished to marry well, and, moreover, he was a keen admirerand judge of beauty. 

Now, since Totski had, of late, been upon terms of great cordiality withEpanchin, which excellent relations were intensified by the fact thatthey were, so to speak, partners in several financial enterprises, itso happened that the former now put in a friendly request to the generalfor counsel with regard to the important step he meditated. Might hesuggest, for instance, such a thing as a marriage between himself andone of the general's daughters?

Evidently the quiet, pleasant current of the family life of theEpanchins was about to undergo a change. 

The undoubted beauty of the family, par excellence, was the youngest, Aglaya, as aforesaid. But Totski himself, though an egotist of theextremest type, realized that he had no chance there; Aglaya was clearlynot for such as he. 

Perhaps the sisterly love and friendship of the three girls had more orless exaggerated Aglaya's chances of happiness. In their opinion, thelatter's destiny was not merely to be very happy; she was to live ina heaven on earth. Aglaya's husband was to be a compendium of all thevirtues, and of all success, not to speak of fabulous wealth. The twoelder sisters had agreed that all was to be sacrificed by them, if needbe, for Aglaya's sake; her dowry was to be colossal and unprecedented. 

The general and his wife were aware of this agreement, and, therefore, when Totski suggested himself for one of the sisters, the parents madeno doubt that one of the two elder girls would probably accept theoffer, since Totski would certainly make no difficulty as to dowry. Thegeneral valued the proposal very highly. He knew life, and realized whatsuch an offer was worth. 

The answer of the sisters to the communication was, if not conclusive, at least consoling and hopeful. It made known that the eldest, Alexandra, would very likely be disposed to listen to a proposal. 

Alexandra was a good-natured girl, though she had a will of her own. Shewas intelligent and kind-hearted, and, if she were to marry Totski, shewould make him a good wife. She did not care for a brilliant marriage;she was eminently a woman calculated to soothe and sweeten the life ofany man; decidedly pretty, if not absolutely handsome. What better couldTotski wish?

So the matter crept slowly forward. The general and Totski had agreed toavoid any hasty and irrevocable step. Alexandra's parents had not evenbegun to talk to their daughters freely upon the subject, when suddenly, as it were, a dissonant chord was struck amid the harmony of theproceedings. Mrs. Epanchin began to show signs of discontent, andthat was a serious matter. A certain circumstance had crept in, adisagreeable and troublesome factor, which threatened to overturn thewhole business. 

This circumstance had come into existence eighteen years before. Closeto an estate of Totski's, in one of the central provinces of Russia, there lived, at that time, a poor gentleman whose estate was of thewretchedest description. This gentleman was noted in the district forhis persistent ill-fortune; his name was Barashkoff, and, as regardsfamily and descent, he was vastly superior to Totski, but his estate wasmortgaged to the last acre. One day, when he had ridden over to the townto see a creditor, the chief peasant of his village followed him shortlyafter, with the news that his house had been burnt down, and that hiswife had perished with it, but his children were safe. 

Even Barashkoff, inured to the storms of evil fortune as he was, couldnot stand this last stroke. He went mad and died shortly after in thetown hospital. His estate was sold for the creditors; and the littlegirls--two of them, of seven and eight years of age respectively, --wereadopted by Totski, who undertook their maintenance and education in thekindness of his heart. They were brought up together with the childrenof his German bailiff. Very soon, however, there was only one ofthem left-Nastasia Philipovna--for the other little one died ofwhooping-cough. Totski, who was living abroad at this time, very soonforgot all about the child; but five years after, returning to Russia, it struck him that he would like to look over his estate and see howmatters were going there, and, arrived at his bailiff's house, he wasnot long in discovering that among the children of the latter there nowdwelt a most lovely little girl of twelve, sweet and intelligent, andbright, and promising to develop beauty of most unusual quality-as towhich last Totski was an undoubted authority. 

He only stayed at his country scat a few days on this occasion, buthe had time to make his arrangements. Great changes took place inthe child's education; a good governess was engaged, a Swiss lady ofexperience and culture. For four years this lady resided in the housewith little Nastia, and then the education was considered complete. The governess took her departure, and another lady came down to fetchNastia, by Totski's instructions. The child was now transported toanother of Totski's estates in a distant part of the country. Hereshe found a delightful little house, just built, and prepared for herreception with great care and taste; and here she took up her abodetogether with the lady who had accompanied her from her old home. Inthe house there were two experienced maids, musical instruments ofall sorts, a charming "young lady's library, " pictures, paint-boxes, a lap-dog, and everything to make life agreeable. Within a fortnightTotski himself arrived, and from that time he appeared to have taken agreat fancy to this part of the world and came down each summer, stayingtwo and three months at a time. So passed four years peacefully andhappily, in charming surroundings. 

At the end of that time, and about four months after Totski's lastvisit (he had stayed but a fortnight on this occasion), a report reachedNastasia Philipovna that he was about to be married in St. Petersburg, to a rich, eminent, and lovely woman. The report was only partiallytrue, the marriage project being only in an embryo condition; but agreat change now came over Nastasia Philipovna. She suddenly displayedunusual decision of character; and without wasting time in thought, she left her country home and came up to St. Petersburg, straight toTotski's house, all alone. 

The latter, amazed at her conduct, began to express his displeasure;but he very soon became aware that he must change his voice, style, andeverything else, with this young lady; the good old times were gone. Anentirely new and different woman sat before him, between whom andthe girl he had left in the country last July there seemed nothing incommon. 

In the first place, this new woman understood a good deal more than wasusual for young people of her age; so much indeed, that Totski could nothelp wondering where she had picked up her knowledge. Surely not fromher "young lady's library"? It even embraced legal matters, and the"world" in general, to a considerable extent. 

Her character was absolutely changed. No more of the girlishalternations of timidity and petulance, the adorable naivete, thereveries, the tears, the playfulness. . . It was an entirely new andhitherto unknown being who now sat and laughed at him, and informed himto his face that she had never had the faintest feeling for him of anykind, except loathing and contempt--contempt which had followed closelyupon her sensations of surprise and bewilderment after her firstacquaintance with him. 

This new woman gave him further to understand that though it wasabsolutely the same to her whom he married, yet she had decided toprevent this marriage--for no particular reason, but that she chose todo so, and because she wished to amuse herself at his expense for thatit was "quite her turn to laugh a little now!"

Such were her words--very likely she did not give her real reason forthis eccentric conduct; but, at all events, that was all the explanationshe deigned to offer. 

Meanwhile, Totski thought the matter over as well as his scattered ideaswould permit. His meditations lasted a fortnight, however, and at theend of that time his resolution was taken. The fact was, Totski wasat that time a man of fifty years of age; his position was solid andrespectable; his place in society had long been firmly fixed upon safefoundations; he loved himself, his personal comforts, and his positionbetter than all the world, as every respectable gentleman should!

At the same time his grasp of things in general soon showed Totski thathe now had to deal with a being who was outside the pale of the ordinaryrules of traditional behaviour, and who would not only threaten mischiefbut would undoubtedly carry it out, and stop for no one. 

There was evidently, he concluded, something at work here; some storm ofthe mind, some paroxysm of romantic anger, goodness knows against whomor what, some insatiable contempt--in a word, something altogetherabsurd and impossible, but at the same time most dangerous to be metwith by any respectable person with a position in society to keep up. 

For a man of Totski's wealth and standing, it would, of course, havebeen the simplest possible matter to take steps which would rid him atonce from all annoyance; while it was obviously impossible for NastasiaPhilipovna to harm him in any way, either legally or by stirring up ascandal, for, in case of the latter danger, he could so easily removeher to a sphere of safety. However, these arguments would only hold goodin case of Nastasia acting as others might in such an emergency. She wasmuch more likely to overstep the bounds of reasonable conduct by someextraordinary eccentricity. 

Here the sound judgment of Totski stood him in good stead. He realizedthat Nastasia Philipovna must be well aware that she could do nothingby legal means to injure him, and that her flashing eyes betrayed someentirely different intention. 

Nastasia Philipovna was quite capable of ruining herself, and even ofperpetrating something which would send her to Siberia, for the merepleasure of injuring a man for whom she had developed so inhuman a senseof loathing and contempt. He had sufficient insight to understand thatshe valued nothing in the world--herself least of all--and he made noattempt to conceal the fact that he was a coward in some respects. Forinstance, if he had been told that he would be stabbed at the altar, orpublicly insulted, he would undoubtedly have been frightened; but not somuch at the idea of being murdered, or wounded, or insulted, as at thethought that if such things were to happen he would be made to lookridiculous in the eyes of society. 

He knew well that Nastasia thoroughly understood him and where to woundhim and how, and therefore, as the marriage was still only in embryo, Totski decided to conciliate her by giving it up. His decision wasstrengthened by the fact that Nastasia Philipovna had curiously alteredof late. It would be difficult to conceive how different she wasphysically, at the present time, to the girl of a few years ago. She waspretty then. . . But now!. . . Totski laughed angrily when he thought howshort-sighted he had been. In days gone by he remembered how he hadlooked at her beautiful eyes, how even then he had marvelled at theirdark mysterious depths, and at their wondering gaze which seemed to seekan answer to some unknown riddle. Her complexion also had altered. Shewas now exceedingly pale, but, curiously, this change only made her morebeautiful. Like most men of the world, Totski had rather despised sucha cheaply-bought conquest, but of late years he had begun to thinkdifferently about it. It had struck him as long ago as last spring thathe ought to be finding a good match for Nastasia; for instance, somerespectable and reasonable young fellow serving in a government officein another part of the country. How maliciously Nastasia laughed at theidea of such a thing, now!

However, it appeared to Totski that he might make use of her in anotherway; and he determined to establish her in St. Petersburg, surroundingher with all the comforts and luxuries that his wealth could command. Inthis way he might gain glory in certain circles. 

Five years of this Petersburg life went by, and, of course, during thattime a great deal happened. Totski's position was very uncomfortable;having "funked" once, he could not totally regain his ease. He wasafraid, he did not know why, but he was simply afraid of NastasiaPhilipovna. For the first two years or so he had suspected that shewished to marry him herself, and that only her vanity prevented hertelling him so. He thought that she wanted him to approach her with ahumble proposal from his own side, But to his great, and not entirelypleasurable amazement, he discovered that this was by no means the case, and that were he to offer himself he would be refused. He could notunderstand such a state of things, and was obliged to conclude that itwas pride, the pride of an injured and imaginative woman, which hadgone to such lengths that it preferred to sit and nurse its contempt andhatred in solitude rather than mount to heights of hitherto unattainablesplendour. To make matters worse, she was quite impervious to mercenaryconsiderations, and could not be bribed in any way. 

Finally, Totski took cunning means to try to break his chains andbe free. He tried to tempt her in various ways to lose her heart; heinvited princes, hussars, secretaries of embassies, poets, novelists, even Socialists, to see her; but not one of them all made the faintestimpression upon Nastasia. It was as though she had a pebble in placeof a heart, as though her feelings and affections were dried up andwithered for ever. 

She lived almost entirely alone; she read, she studied, she loved music. Her principal acquaintances were poor women of various grades, a coupleof actresses, and the family of a poor schoolteacher. Among these peopleshe was much beloved. 

She received four or five friends sometimes, of an evening. Totskioften came. Lately, too, General Epanchin had been enabled withgreat difficulty to introduce himself into her circle. Gania madeher acquaintance also, and others were Ferdishenko, an ill-bred, andwould-be witty, young clerk, and Ptitsin, a money-lender of modestand polished manners, who had risen from poverty. In fact, NastasiaPhilipovna's beauty became a thing known to all the town; but not asingle man could boast of anything more than his own admiration forher; and this reputation of hers, and her wit and culture and grace, allconfirmed Totski in the plan he had now prepared. 

And it was at this moment that General Epanchin began to play so largeand important a part in the story. 

When Totski had approached the general with his request for friendlycounsel as to a marriage with one of his daughters, he had made a fulland candid confession. He had said that he intended to stop at no meansto obtain his freedom; even if Nastasia were to promise to leave himentirely alone in future, he would not (he said) believe and trust her;words were not enough for him; he must have solid guarantees of somesort. So he and the general determined to try what an attempt to appealto her heart would effect. Having arrived at Nastasia's house one day, with Epanchin, Totski immediately began to speak of the intolerabletorment of his position. He admitted that he was to blame for all, butcandidly confessed that he could not bring himself to feel any remorsefor his original guilt towards herself, because he was a man of sensualpassions which were inborn and ineradicable, and that he had no powerover himself in this respect; but that he wished, seriously, to marry atlast, and that the whole fate of the most desirable social union whichhe contemplated, was in her hands; in a word, he confided his all to hergenerosity of heart. 

General Epanchin took up his part and spoke in the character of fatherof a family; he spoke sensibly, and without wasting words over anyattempt at sentimentality, he merely recorded his full admission ofher right to be the arbiter of Totski's destiny at this moment. He thenpointed out that the fate of his daughter, and very likely of both hisother daughters, now hung upon her reply. 

To Nastasia's question as to what they wished her to do, Totskiconfessed that he had been so frightened by her, five years ago, thathe could never now be entirely comfortable until she herself married. Heimmediately added that such a suggestion from him would, of course, beabsurd, unless accompanied by remarks of a more pointed nature. Hevery well knew, he said, that a certain young gentleman of good family, namely, Gavrila Ardalionovitch Ivolgin, with whom she was acquainted, and whom she received at her house, had long loved her passionately, and would give his life for some response from her. The young fellow hadconfessed this love of his to him (Totski) and had also admitted it inthe hearing of his benefactor, General Epanchin. Lastly, he could nothelp being of opinion that Nastasia must be aware of Gania's love forher, and if he (Totski) mistook not, she had looked with some favourupon it, being often lonely, and rather tired of her present life. Having remarked how difficult it was for him, of all people, to speakto her of these matters, Totski concluded by saying that he trustedNastasia Philipovna would not look with contempt upon him if he nowexpressed his sincere desire to guarantee her future by a gift ofseventy-five thousand roubles. He added that the sum would have beenleft her all the same in his will, and that therefore she must notconsider the gift as in any way an indemnification to her for anything, but that there was no reason, after all, why a man should not be allowedto entertain a natural desire to lighten his conscience, etc. , etc. ; infact, all that would naturally be said under the circumstances. Totskiwas very eloquent all through, and, in conclusion, just touched on thefact that not a soul in the world, not even General Epanchin, had everheard a word about the above seventy-five thousand roubles, and thatthis was the first time he had ever given expression to his intentionsin respect to them. 

Nastasia Philipovna's reply to this long rigmarole astonished both thefriends considerably. 

Not only was there no trace of her former irony, of her old hatred andenmity, and of that dreadful laughter, the very recollection of whichsent a cold chill down Totski's back to this very day; but she seemedcharmed and really glad to have the opportunity of talking seriouslywith him for once in a way. She confessed that she had long wished tohave a frank and free conversation and to ask for friendly advice, butthat pride had hitherto prevented her; now, however, that the ice wasbroken, nothing could be more welcome to her than this opportunity. 

First, with a sad smile, and then with a twinkle of merriment in hereyes, she admitted that such a storm as that of five years ago was nowquite out of the question. She said that she had long since changedher views of things, and recognized that facts must be taken intoconsideration in spite of the feelings of the heart. What was done wasdone and ended, and she could not understand why Totski should stillfeel alarmed. 

She next turned to General Epanchin and observed, most courteously, thatshe had long since known of his daughters, and that she had heard nonebut good report; that she had learned to think of them with deep andsincere respect. The idea alone that she could in any way serve them, would be to her both a pride and a source of real happiness. 

It was true that she was lonely in her present life; Totski had judgedher thoughts aright. She longed to rise, if not to love, at least tofamily life and new hopes and objects, but as to Gavrila Ardalionovitch, she could not as yet say much. She thought it must be the case that heloved her; she felt that she too might learn to love him, if she couldbe sure of the firmness of his attachment to herself; but he was veryyoung, and it was a difficult question to decide. What she speciallyliked about him was that he worked, and supported his family by histoil. 

She had heard that he was proud and ambitious; she had heard much thatwas interesting of his mother and sister, she had heard of them from Mr. Ptitsin, and would much like to make their acquaintance, but--anotherquestion!--would they like to receive her into their house? At allevents, though she did not reject the idea of this marriage, she desirednot to be hurried. As for the seventy-five thousand roubles, Mr. Totskineed not have found any difficulty or awkwardness about the matter; shequite understood the value of money, and would, of course, accept thegift. She thanked him for his delicacy, however, but saw no reason whyGavrila Ardalionovitch should not know about it. 

She would not marry the latter, she said, until she felt persuaded thatneither on his part nor on the part of his family did there exist anysort of concealed suspicions as to herself. She did not intend to askforgiveness for anything in the past, which fact she desired to beknown. She did not consider herself to blame for anything that hadhappened in former years, and she thought that Gavrila Ardalionovitchshould be informed as to the relations which had existed between herselfand Totski during the last five years. If she accepted this money it wasnot to be considered as indemnification for her misfortune as a younggirl, which had not been in any degree her own fault, but merely ascompensation for her ruined life. 

She became so excited and agitated during all these explanations andconfessions that General Epanchin was highly gratified, and consideredthe matter satisfactorily arranged once for all. But the once bittenTotski was twice shy, and looked for hidden snakes among the flowers. However, the special point to which the two friends particularly trustedto bring about their object (namely, Gania's attractiveness for NastasiaPhilipovna), stood out more and more prominently; the pourparlers hadcommenced, and gradually even Totski began to believe in the possibilityof success. 

Before long Nastasia and Gania had talked the matter over. Verylittle was said--her modesty seemed to suffer under the inflictionof discussing such a question. But she recognized his love, on theunderstanding that she bound herself to nothing whatever, and thatshe reserved the right to say "no" up to the very hour of the marriageceremony. Gania was to have the same right of refusal at the lastmoment. 

It soon became clear to Gania, after scenes of wrath and quarrellingsat the domestic hearth, that his family were seriously opposed to thematch, and that Nastasia was aware of this fact was equally evident. Shesaid nothing about it, though he daily expected her to do so. 

There were several rumours afloat, before long, which upset Totski'sequanimity a good deal, but we will not now stop to describe them;merely mentioning an instance or two. One was that Nastasia had enteredinto close and secret relations with the Epanchin girls--a most unlikelyrumour; another was that Nastasia had long satisfied herself of the factthat Gania was merely marrying her for money, and that his nature wasgloomy and greedy, impatient and selfish, to an extraordinary degree;and that although he had been keen enough in his desire to achieve aconquest before, yet since the two friends had agreed to exploit hispassion for their own purposes, it was clear enough that he had begun toconsider the whole thing a nuisance and a nightmare. 

In his heart passion and hate seemed to hold divided sway, and althoughhe had at last given his consent to marry the woman (as he said), underthe stress of circumstances, yet he promised himself that he would "takeit out of her, " after marriage. 

Nastasia seemed to Totski to have divined all this, and to be preparingsomething on her own account, which frightened him to such an extentthat he did not dare communicate his views even to the general. But attimes he would pluck up his courage and be full of hope and good spiritsagain, acting, in fact, as weak men do act in such circumstances. 

However, both the friends felt that the thing looked rosy indeed whenone day Nastasia informed them that she would give her final answer onthe evening of her birthday, which anniversary was due in a very shorttime. 

A strange rumour began to circulate, meanwhile; no less than thatthe respectable and highly respected General Epanchin was himself sofascinated by Nastasia Philipovna that his feeling for her amountedalmost to passion. What he thought to gain by Gania's marriage tothe girl it was difficult to imagine. Possibly he counted on Gania'scomplaisance; for Totski had long suspected that there existed somesecret understanding between the general and his secretary. At allevents the fact was known that he had prepared a magnificent present ofpearls for Nastasia's birthday, and that he was looking forward to theoccasion when he should present his gift with the greatest excitementand impatience. The day before her birthday he was in a fever ofagitation. 

Mrs. Epanchin, long accustomed to her husband's infidelities, hadheard of the pearls, and the rumour excited her liveliest curiosity andinterest. The general remarked her suspicions, and felt that a grandexplanation must shortly take place--which fact alarmed him much. 

This is the reason why he was so unwilling to take lunch (on the morningupon which we took up this narrative) with the rest of his family. Before the prince's arrival he had made up his mind to plead business, and "cut" the meal; which simply meant running away. 

He was particularly anxious that this one day should bepassed--especially the evening--without unpleasantness between himselfand his family; and just at the right moment the prince turned up--"asthough Heaven had sent him on purpose, " said the general to himself, ashe left the study to seek out the wife of his bosom. 

V. 

Mrs. General Epanchin was a proud woman by nature. What must herfeelings have been when she heard that Prince Muishkin, the last ofhis and her line, had arrived in beggar's guise, a wretched idiot, arecipient of charity--all of which details the general gave out forgreater effect! He was anxious to steal her interest at the first swoop, so as to distract her thoughts from other matters nearer home. 

Mrs. Epanchin was in the habit of holding herself very straight, andstaring before her, without speaking, in moments of excitement. 

She was a fine woman of the same age as her husband, with a slightlyhooked nose, a high, narrow forehead, thick hair turning a little grey, and a sallow complexion. Her eyes were grey and wore a very curiousexpression at times. She believed them to be most effective--a beliefthat nothing could alter. 

"What, receive him! Now, at once?" asked Mrs. Epanchin, gazing vaguelyat her husband as he stood fidgeting before her. 

"Oh, dear me, I assure you there is no need to stand on ceremony withhim, " the general explained hastily. "He is quite a child, not to saya pathetic-looking creature. He has fits of some sort, and has justarrived from Switzerland, straight from the station, dressed like aGerman and without a farthing in his pocket. I gave him twenty-fiveroubles to go on with, and am going to find him some easy place in oneof the government offices. I should like you to ply him well with thevictuals, my dears, for I should think he must be very hungry. "

"You astonish me, " said the lady, gazing as before. "Fits, and hungrytoo! What sort of fits?"

"Oh, they don't come on frequently, besides, he's a regular child, though he seems to be fairly educated. I should like you, if possible, my dears, " the general added, making slowly for the door, "to put himthrough his paces a bit, and see what he is good for. I think you shouldbe kind to him; it is a good deed, you know--however, just as you like, of course--but he is a sort of relation, remember, and I thought itmight interest you to see the young fellow, seeing that this is so. "

"Oh, of course, mamma, if we needn't stand on ceremony with him, we mustgive the poor fellow something to eat after his journey; especially ashe has not the least idea where to go to, " said Alexandra, the eldest ofthe girls. 

"Besides, he's quite a child; we can entertain him with a littlehide-and-seek, in case of need, " said Adelaida. 

"Hide-and-seek? What do you mean?" inquired Mrs. Epanchin. 

"Oh, do stop pretending, mamma, " cried Aglaya, in vexation. "Send himup, father; mother allows. "

The general rang the bell and gave orders that the prince should beshown in. 

"Only on condition that he has a napkin under his chin at lunch, then, "said Mrs. Epanchin, "and let Fedor, or Mavra, stand behind him while heeats. Is he quiet when he has these fits? He doesn't show violence, doeshe?"

"On the contrary, he seems to be very well brought up. His mannersare excellent--but here he is himself. Here you are, prince--let meintroduce you, the last of the Muishkins, a relative of your own, mydear, or at least of the same name. Receive him kindly, please. They'llbring in lunch directly, prince; you must stop and have some, but youmust excuse me. I'm in a hurry, I must be off--"

"We all know where YOU must be off to!" said Mrs. Epanchin, in a meaningvoice. 

"Yes, yes--I must hurry away, I'm late! Look here, dears, let himwrite you something in your albums; you've no idea what a wonderfulcaligraphist he is, wonderful talent! He has just written out 'AbbotPafnute signed this' for me. Well, au revoir!"

"Stop a minute; where are you off to? Who is this abbot?" cried Mrs. Epanchin to her retreating husband in a tone of excited annoyance. 

"Yes, my dear, it was an old abbot of that name-I must be off to see thecount, he's waiting for me, I'm late--Good-bye! Au revoir, prince!"--andthe general bolted at full speed. 

"Oh, yes--I know what count you're going to see!" remarked his wife ina cutting manner, as she turned her angry eyes on the prince. "Nowthen, what's all this about?--What abbot--Who's Pafnute?" she added, brusquely. 

"Mamma!" said Alexandra, shocked at her rudeness. 

Aglaya stamped her foot. 

"Nonsense! Let me alone!" said the angry mother. "Now then, prince, sitdown here, no, nearer, come nearer the light! I want to have a good lookat you. So, now then, who is this abbot?"

"Abbot Pafnute, " said our friend, seriously and with deference. 

"Pafnute, yes. And who was he?"

Mrs. Epanchin put these questions hastily and brusquely, and when theprince answered she nodded her head sagely at each word he said. 

"The Abbot Pafnute lived in the fourteenth century, " began the prince;"he was in charge of one of the monasteries on the Volga, about whereour present Kostroma government lies. He went to Oreol and helped in thegreat matters then going on in the religious world; he signed an edictthere, and I have seen a print of his signature; it struck me, so Icopied it. When the general asked me, in his study, to write somethingfor him, to show my handwriting, I wrote 'The Abbot Pafnute signedthis, ' in the exact handwriting of the abbot. The general liked it verymuch, and that's why he recalled it just now. "

"Aglaya, make a note of 'Pafnute, ' or we shall forget him. H'm! andwhere is this signature?"

"I think it was left on the general's table. "

"Let it be sent for at once!"

"Oh, I'll write you a new one in half a minute, " said the prince, "ifyou like!"

"Of course, mamma!" said Alexandra. "But let's have lunch now, we areall hungry!"

"Yes; come along, prince, " said the mother, "are you very hungry?"

"Yes; I must say that I am pretty hungry, thanks very much. "

"H'm! I like to see that you know your manners; and you are by no meanssuch a person as the general thought fit to describe you. Come along;you sit here, opposite to me, " she continued, "I wish to be able to seeyour face. Alexandra, Adelaida, look after the prince! He doesn't seemso very ill, does he? I don't think he requires a napkin under his chin, after all; are you accustomed to having one on, prince?"

"Formerly, when I was seven years old or so. I believe I wore one; butnow I usually hold my napkin on my knee when I eat. "

"Of course, of course! And about your fits?"

"Fits?" asked the prince, slightly surprised. "I very seldom have fitsnowadays. I don't know how it may be here, though; they say the climatemay be bad for me. "

"He talks very well, you know!" said Mrs. Epanchin, who still continuedto nod at each word the prince spoke. "I really did not expect it atall; in fact, I suppose it was all stuff and nonsense on the general'spart, as usual. Eat away, prince, and tell me where you were born, andwhere you were brought up. I wish to know all about you, you interest mevery much!"

The prince expressed his thanks once more, and eating heartily thewhile, recommenced the narrative of his life in Switzerland, all ofwhich we have heard before. Mrs. Epanchin became more and more pleasedwith her guest; the girls, too, listened with considerable attention. Intalking over the question of relationship it turned out that the princewas very well up in the matter and knew his pedigree off by heart. Itwas found that scarcely any connection existed between himself and Mrs. Epanchin, but the talk, and the opportunity of conversing about herfamily tree, gratified the latter exceedingly, and she rose from thetable in great good humour. 

"Let's all go to my boudoir, " she said, "and they shall bring somecoffee in there. That's the room where we all assemble and busyourselves as we like best, " she explained. "Alexandra, my eldest, here, plays the piano, or reads or sews; Adelaida paints landscapes andportraits (but never finishes any); and Aglaya sits and does nothing. I don't work too much, either. Here we are, now; sit down, prince, nearthe fire and talk to us. I want to hear you relate something. I wishto make sure of you first and then tell my old friend, PrincessBielokonski, about you. I wish you to know all the good people and tointerest them. Now then, begin!"

"Mamma, it's rather a strange order, that!" said Adelaida, who wasfussing among her paints and paint-brushes at the easel. Aglaya andAlexandra had settled themselves with folded hands on a sofa, evidentlymeaning to be listeners. The prince felt that the general attention wasconcentrated upon himself. 

"I should refuse to say a word if I were ordered to tell a story likethat!" observed Aglaya. 

"Why? what's there strange about it? He has a tongue. Why shouldn't hetell us something? I want to judge whether he is a good story-teller;anything you like, prince-how you liked Switzerland, what was your firstimpression, anything. You'll see, he'll begin directly and tell us allabout it beautifully. "

"The impression was forcible--" the prince began. 

"There, you see, girls, " said the impatient lady, "he has begun, yousee. "

"Well, then, LET him talk, mamma, " said Alexandra. "This prince is agreat humbug and by no means an idiot, " she whispered to Aglaya. 

"Oh, I saw that at once, " replied the latter. "I don't think it at allnice of him to play a part. What does he wish to gain by it, I wonder?"

"My first impression was a very strong one, " repeated the prince. "Whenthey took me away from Russia, I remember I passed through many Germantowns and looked out of the windows, but did not trouble so much as toask questions about them. This was after a long series of fits. I alwaysused to fall into a sort of torpid condition after such a series, andlost my memory almost entirely; and though I was not altogether withoutreason at such times, yet I had no logical power of thought. This wouldcontinue for three or four days, and then I would recover myself again. I remember my melancholy was intolerable; I felt inclined to cry; Isat and wondered and wondered uncomfortably; the consciousness thateverything was strange weighed terribly upon me; I could understand thatit was all foreign and strange. I recollect I awoke from this state forthe first time at Basle, one evening; the bray of a donkey aroused me, a donkey in the town market. I saw the donkey and was extremely pleasedwith it, and from that moment my head seemed to clear. "

"A donkey? How strange! Yet it is not strange. Anyone of us might fallin love with a donkey! It happened in mythological times, " said MadameEpanchin, looking wrathfully at her daughters, who had begun to laugh. "Go on, prince. "

"Since that evening I have been specially fond of donkeys. I began toask questions about them, for I had never seen one before; and I atonce came to the conclusion that this must be one of the most useful ofanimals--strong, willing, patient, cheap; and, thanks to this donkey, I began to like the whole country I was travelling through; and mymelancholy passed away. "

"All this is very strange and interesting, " said Mrs. Epanchin. "Nowlet's leave the donkey and go on to other matters. What are you laughingat, Aglaya? and you too, Adelaida? The prince told us his experiencesvery cleverly; he saw the donkey himself, and what have you ever seen?YOU have never been abroad. "

"I have seen a donkey though, mamma!" said Aglaya. 

"And I've heard one!" said Adelaida. All three of the girls laughed outloud, and the prince laughed with them. 

"Well, it's too bad of you, " said mamma. "You must forgive them, prince;they are good girls. I am very fond of them, though I often have to bescolding them; they are all as silly and mad as march hares. "

"Oh, why shouldn't they laugh?" said the prince. "I shouldn't have letthe chance go by in their place, I know. But I stick up for the donkey, all the same; he's a patient, good-natured fellow. "

"Are you a patient man, prince? I ask out of curiosity, " said Mrs. Epanchin. 

All laughed again. 

"Oh, that wretched donkey again, I see!" cried the lady. "I assure you, prince, I was not guilty of the least--"

"Insinuation? Oh! I assure you, I take your word for it. " And the princecontinued laughing merrily. 

"I must say it's very nice of you to laugh. I see you really are akind-hearted fellow, " said Mrs. Epanchin. 

"I'm not always kind, though. "

"I am kind myself, and ALWAYS kind too, if you please!" she retorted, unexpectedly; "and that is my chief fault, for one ought not to bealways kind. I am often angry with these girls and their father; but theworst of it is, I am always kindest when I am cross. I was very angryjust before you came, and Aglaya there read me a lesson--thanks, Aglaya, dear--come and kiss me--there--that's enough" she added, as Aglaya cameforward and kissed her lips and then her hand. "Now then, go on, prince. Perhaps you can think of something more exciting than about the donkey, eh?"

"I must say, again, I can't understand how you can expect anyone to tellyou stories straight away, so, " said Adelaida. "I know I never could!"

"Yes, but the prince can, because he is clever--cleverer than you areby ten or twenty times, if you like. There, that's so, prince; andseriously, let's drop the donkey now--what else did you see abroad, besides the donkey?"

"Yes, but the prince told us about the donkey very cleverly, all thesame, " said Alexandra. "I have always been most interested to hear howpeople go mad and get well again, and that sort of thing. Especiallywhen it happens suddenly. "

"Quite so, quite so!" cried Mrs. Epanchin, delighted. "I see you CANbe sensible now and then, Alexandra. You were speaking of Switzerland, prince?"

"Yes. We came to Lucerne, and I was taken out in a boat. I felt howlovely it was, but the loveliness weighed upon me somehow or other, andmade me feel melancholy. "

"Why?" asked Alexandra. 

"I don't know; I always feel like that when I look at the beauties ofnature for the first time; but then, I was ill at that time, of course!"

"Oh, but I should like to see it!" said Adelaida; "and I don't knowWHEN we shall ever go abroad. I've been two years looking out for a goodsubject for a picture. I've done all I know. 'The North and South I knowby heart, ' as our poet observes. Do help me to a subject, prince. "

"Oh, but I know nothing about painting. It seems to me one only has tolook, and paint what one sees. "

"But I don't know HOW to see!"

"Nonsense, what rubbish you talk!" the mother struck in. "Not know howto see! Open your eyes and look! If you can't see here, you won't seeabroad either. Tell us what you saw yourself, prince!"

"Yes, that's better, " said Adelaida; "the prince learned to see abroad. "

"Oh, I hardly know! You see, I only went to restore my health. I don'tknow whether I learned to see, exactly. I was very happy, however, nearly all the time. "

"Happy! you can be happy?" cried Aglaya. "Then how can you say you didnot learn to see? I should think you could teach us to see!"

"Oh! DO teach us, " laughed Adelaida. 

"Oh! I can't do that, " said the prince, laughing too. "I lived almostall the while in one little Swiss village; what can I teach you? Atfirst I was only just not absolutely dull; then my health began toimprove--then every day became dearer and more precious to me, and thelonger I stayed, the dearer became the time to me; so much so that Icould not help observing it; but why this was so, it would be difficultto say. "

"So that you didn't care to go away anywhere else?"

"Well, at first I did; I was restless; I didn't know however I shouldmanage to support life--you know there are such moments, especially insolitude. There was a waterfall near us, such a lovely thin streak ofwater, like a thread but white and moving. It fell from a great height, but it looked quite low, and it was half a mile away, though it did notseem fifty paces. I loved to listen to it at night, but it was thenthat I became so restless. Sometimes I went and climbed the mountain andstood there in the midst of the tall pines, all alone in the terriblesilence, with our little village in the distance, and the sky so blue, and the sun so bright, and an old ruined castle on the mountain-side, far away. I used to watch the line where earth and sky met, and longedto go and seek there the key of all mysteries, thinking that I mightfind there a new life, perhaps some great city where life should begrander and richer--and then it struck me that life may be grand enougheven in a prison. "

"I read that last most praiseworthy thought in my manual, when I wastwelve years old, " said Aglaya. 

"All this is pure philosophy, " said Adelaida. "You are a philosopher, prince, and have come here to instruct us in your views. "

"Perhaps you are right, " said the prince, smiling. "I think I am aphilosopher, perhaps, and who knows, perhaps I do wish to teach my viewsof things to those I meet with?"

"Your philosophy is rather like that of an old woman we know, who isrich and yet does nothing but try how little she can spend. She talks ofnothing but money all day. Your great philosophical idea of a grand lifein a prison and your four happy years in that Swiss village are likethis, rather, " said Aglaya. 

"As to life in a prison, of course there may be two opinions, " said theprince. "I once heard the story of a man who lived twelve years in aprison--I heard it from the man himself. He was one of the persons undertreatment with my professor; he had fits, and attacks of melancholy, then he would weep, and once he tried to commit suicide. HIS life inprison was sad enough; his only acquaintances were spiders and a treethat grew outside his grating-but I think I had better tell you ofanother man I met last year. There was a very strange feature in thiscase, strange because of its extremely rare occurrence. This man hadonce been brought to the scaffold in company with several others, andhad had the sentence of death by shooting passed upon him for somepolitical crime. Twenty minutes later he had been reprieved andsome other punishment substituted; but the interval between the twosentences, twenty minutes, or at least a quarter of an hour, had beenpassed in the certainty that within a few minutes he must die. I wasvery anxious to hear him speak of his impressions during that dreadfultime, and I several times inquired of him as to what he thought andfelt. He remembered everything with the most accurate and extraordinarydistinctness, and declared that he would never forget a single iota ofthe experience. 

"About twenty paces from the scaffold, where he had stood to hear thesentence, were three posts, fixed in the ground, to which to fasten thecriminals (of whom there were several). The first three criminals weretaken to the posts, dressed in long white tunics, with white caps drawnover their faces, so that they could not see the rifles pointed at them. Then a group of soldiers took their stand opposite to each post. Myfriend was the eighth on the list, and therefore he would have beenamong the third lot to go up. A priest went about among them with across: and there was about five minutes of time left for him to live. 

"He said that those five minutes seemed to him to be a most interminableperiod, an enormous wealth of time; he seemed to be living, in theseminutes, so many lives that there was no need as yet to think of thatlast moment, so that he made several arrangements, dividing up the timeinto portions--one for saying farewell to his companions, two minutesfor that; then a couple more for thinking over his own life and careerand all about himself; and another minute for a last look around. Heremembered having divided his time like this quite well. While sayinggood-bye to his friends he recollected asking one of them some veryusual everyday question, and being much interested in the answer. Thenhaving bade farewell, he embarked upon those two minutes which he hadallotted to looking into himself; he knew beforehand what he was goingto think about. He wished to put it to himself as quickly and clearlyas possible, that here was he, a living, thinking man, and that in threeminutes he would be nobody; or if somebody or something, then what andwhere? He thought he would decide this question once for all in theselast three minutes. A little way off there stood a church, and itsgilded spire glittered in the sun. He remembered staring stubbornly atthis spire, and at the rays of light sparkling from it. He could nottear his eyes from these rays of light; he got the idea that these rayswere his new nature, and that in three minutes he would become one ofthem, amalgamated somehow with them. 

"The repugnance to what must ensue almost immediately, and theuncertainty, were dreadful, he said; but worst of all was the idea, 'What should I do if I were not to die now? What if I were to return tolife again? What an eternity of days, and all mine! How I should grudgeand count up every minute of it, so as to waste not a single instant!'He said that this thought weighed so upon him and became such a terribleburden upon his brain that he could not bear it, and wished they wouldshoot him quickly and have done with it. "

The prince paused and all waited, expecting him to go on again andfinish the story. 

"Is that all?" asked Aglaya. 

"All? Yes, " said the prince, emerging from a momentary reverie. 

"And why did you tell us this?"

"Oh, I happened to recall it, that's all! It fitted into theconversation--"

"You probably wish to deduce, prince, " said Alexandra, "that moments oftime cannot be reckoned by money value, and that sometimes five minutesare worth priceless treasures. All this is very praiseworthy; but may Iask about this friend of yours, who told you the terrible experience ofhis life? He was reprieved, you say; in other words, they did restore tohim that 'eternity of days. ' What did he do with these riches of time?Did he keep careful account of his minutes?"

"Oh no, he didn't! I asked him myself. He said that he had not lived abit as he had intended, and had wasted many, and many a minute. "

"Very well, then there's an experiment, and the thing is proved; onecannot live and count each moment; say what you like, but one CANNOT. "

"That is true, " said the prince, "I have thought so myself. And yet, whyshouldn't one do it?"

"You think, then, that you could live more wisely than other people?"said Aglaya. 

"I have had that idea. "

"And you have it still?"

"Yes--I have it still, " the prince replied. 

He had contemplated Aglaya until now, with a pleasant though rathertimid smile, but as the last words fell from his lips he began to laugh, and looked at her merrily. 

"You are not very modest!" said she. 

"But how brave you are!" said he. "You are laughing, and I--that man'stale impressed me so much, that I dreamt of it afterwards; yes, I dreamtof those five minutes. . . "

He looked at his listeners again with that same serious, searchingexpression. 

"You are not angry with me?" he asked suddenly, and with a kind ofnervous hurry, although he looked them straight in the face. 

"Why should we be angry?" they cried. 

"Only because I seem to be giving you a lecture, all the time!"

At this they laughed heartily. 

"Please don't be angry with me, " continued the prince. "I know very wellthat I have seen less of life than other people, and have less knowledgeof it. I must appear to speak strangely sometimes. . . "

He said the last words nervously. 

"You say you have been happy, and that proves you have lived, not less, but more than other people. Why make all these excuses?" interruptedAglaya in a mocking tone of voice. "Besides, you need not mind aboutlecturing us; you have nothing to boast of. With your quietism, onecould live happily for a hundred years at least. One might show you theexecution of a felon, or show you one's little finger. You could drawa moral from either, and be quite satisfied. That sort of existence iseasy enough. "

"I can't understand why you always fly into a temper, " said Mrs. Epanchin, who had been listening to the conversation and examining thefaces of the speakers in turn. "I do not understand what you mean. Whathas your little finger to do with it? The prince talks well, though heis not amusing. He began all right, but now he seems sad. "

"Never mind, mamma! Prince, I wish you had seen an execution, " saidAglaya. "I should like to ask you a question about that, if you had. "

"I have seen an execution, " said the prince. 

"You have!" cried Aglaya. "I might have guessed it. That's a fittingcrown to the rest of the story. If you have seen an execution, how canyou say you lived happily all the while?"

"But is there capital punishment where you were?" asked Adelaida. 

"I saw it at Lyons. Schneider took us there, and as soon as we arrivedwe came in for that. "

"Well, and did you like it very much? Was it very edifying andinstructive?" asked Aglaya. 

"No, I didn't like it at all, and was ill after seeing it; but I confessI stared as though my eyes were fixed to the sight. I could not tearthem away. "

"I, too, should have been unable to tear my eyes away, " said Aglaya. 

"They do not at all approve of women going to see an execution there. The women who do go are condemned for it afterwards in the newspapers. "

"That is, by contending that it is not a sight for women they admit thatit is a sight for men. I congratulate them on the deduction. I supposeyou quite agree with them, prince?"

"Tell us about the execution, " put in Adelaida. 

"I would much rather not, just now, " said the prince, a little disturbedand frowning slightly. 

"You don't seem to want to tell us, " said Aglaya, with a mocking air. 

"No, --the thing is, I was telling all about the execution a little whileago, and--"

"Whom did you tell about it?"

"The man-servant, while I was waiting to see the general. "

"Our man-servant?" exclaimed several voices at once. 

"Yes, the one who waits in the entrance hall, a greyish, red-facedman--"

"The prince is clearly a democrat, " remarked Aglaya. 

"Well, if you could tell Aleksey about it, surely you can tell us too. "

"I do so want to hear about it, " repeated Adelaida. 

"Just now, I confess, " began the prince, with more animation, "when youasked me for a subject for a picture, I confess I had serious thoughtsof giving you one. I thought of asking you to draw the face of acriminal, one minute before the fall of the guillotine, while thewretched man is still standing on the scaffold, preparatory to placinghis neck on the block. "

"What, his face? only his face?" asked Adelaida. "That would be astrange subject indeed. And what sort of a picture would that make?"

"Oh, why not?" the prince insisted, with some warmth. "When I was inBasle I saw a picture very much in that style--I should like to tell youabout it; I will some time or other; it struck me very forcibly. "

"Oh, you shall tell us about the Basle picture another time; now we musthave all about the execution, " said Adelaida. "Tell us about that faceas; it appeared to your imagination-how should it be drawn?--just theface alone, do you mean?"

"It was just a minute before the execution, " began the prince, readily, carried away by the recollection and evidently forgetting everythingelse in a moment; "just at the instant when he stepped off the ladder onto the scaffold. He happened to look in my direction: I saw his eyes andunderstood all, at once--but how am I to describe it? I do so wish youor somebody else could draw it, you, if possible. I thought at the timewhat a picture it would make. You must imagine all that went before, ofcourse, all--all. He had lived in the prison for some time and had notexpected that the execution would take place for at least a week yet--hehad counted on all the formalities and so on taking time; but it sohappened that his papers had been got ready quickly. At five o'clock inthe morning he was asleep--it was October, and at five in the morningit was cold and dark. The governor of the prison comes in on tip-toe andtouches the sleeping man's shoulder gently. He starts up. 'What is it?'he says. 'The execution is fixed for ten o'clock. ' He was only justawake, and would not believe at first, but began to argue that hispapers would not be out for a week, and so on. When he was wide awakeand realized the truth, he became very silent and argued no more--sothey say; but after a bit he said: 'It comes very hard on one sosuddenly' and then he was silent again and said nothing. 

"The three or four hours went by, of course, in necessarypreparations--the priest, breakfast, (coffee, meat, and some wine theygave him; doesn't it seem ridiculous?) And yet I believe these peoplegive them a good breakfast out of pure kindness of heart, and believethat they are doing a good action. Then he is dressed, and then beginsthe procession through the town to the scaffold. I think he, too, must feel that he has an age to live still while they cart him along. Probably he thought, on the way, 'Oh, I have a long, long time yet. Three streets of life yet! When we've passed this street there'll bethat other one; and then that one where the baker's shop is on theright; and when shall we get there? It's ages, ages!' Around him arecrowds shouting, yelling--ten thousand faces, twenty thousand eyes. All this has to be endured, and especially the thought: 'Here are tenthousand men, and not one of them is going to be executed, and yet I amto die. ' Well, all that is preparatory. 

"At the scaffold there is a ladder, and just there he burst intotears--and this was a strong man, and a terribly wicked one, they say!There was a priest with him the whole time, talking; even in the cartas they drove along, he talked and talked. Probably the other heardnothing; he would begin to listen now and then, and at the third word orso he had forgotten all about it. 

"At last he began to mount the steps; his legs were tied, so that he hadto take very small steps. The priest, who seemed to be a wise man, hadstopped talking now, and only held the cross for the wretched fellow tokiss. At the foot of the ladder he had been pale enough; but when he setfoot on the scaffold at the top, his face suddenly became the colourof paper, positively like white notepaper. His legs must have becomesuddenly feeble and helpless, and he felt a choking in his throat--youknow the sudden feeling one has in moments of terrible fear, when onedoes not lose one's wits, but is absolutely powerless to move? If somedreadful thing were suddenly to happen; if a house were just about tofall on one;--don't you know how one would long to sit down and shutone's eyes and wait, and wait? Well, when this terrible feeling cameover him, the priest quickly pressed the cross to his lips, without aword--a little silver cross it was-and he kept on pressing it to theman's lips every second. And whenever the cross touched his lips, theeyes would open for a moment, and the legs moved once, and he kissed thecross greedily, hurriedly--just as though he were anxious to catch holdof something in case of its being useful to him afterwards, though hecould hardly have had any connected religious thoughts at the time. Andso up to the very block. 

"How strange that criminals seldom swoon at such a moment! Onthe contrary, the brain is especially active, and worksincessantly--probably hard, hard, hard--like an engine at full pressure. I imagine that various thoughts must beat loud and fast throughhis head--all unfinished ones, and strange, funny thoughts, verylikely!--like this, for instance: 'That man is looking at me, and hehas a wart on his forehead! and the executioner has burst one of hisbuttons, and the lowest one is all rusty!' And meanwhile he notices andremembers everything. There is one point that cannot be forgotten, roundwhich everything else dances and turns about; and because of thispoint he cannot faint, and this lasts until the very final quarter ofa second, when the wretched neck is on the block and the victim listensand waits and KNOWS--that's the point, he KNOWS that he is just NOWabout to die, and listens for the rasp of the iron over his head. If Ilay there, I should certainly listen for that grating sound, and hearit, too! There would probably be but the tenth part of an instant leftto hear it in, but one would certainly hear it. And imagine, some peopledeclare that when the head flies off it is CONSCIOUS of having flownoff! Just imagine what a thing to realize! Fancy if consciousness wereto last for even five seconds!

"Draw the scaffold so that only the top step of the ladder comes inclearly. The criminal must be just stepping on to it, his face as whiteas note-paper. The priest is holding the cross to his blue lips, and thecriminal kisses it, and knows and sees and understands everything. The cross and the head--there's your picture; the priest and theexecutioner, with his two assistants, and a few heads and eyes below. Those might come in as subordinate accessories--a sort of mist. There'sa picture for you. " The prince paused, and looked around. 

"Certainly that isn't much like quietism, " murmured Alexandra, half toherself. 

"Now tell us about your love affairs, " said Adelaida, after a moment'spause. 

The prince gazed at her in amazement. 

"You know, " Adelaida continued, "you owe us a description of the Baslepicture; but first I wish to hear how you fell in love. Don't deny thefact, for you did, of course. Besides, you stop philosophizing when youare telling about anything. "

"Why are you ashamed of your stories the moment after you have toldthem?" asked Aglaya, suddenly. 

"How silly you are!" said Mrs. Epanchin, looking indignantly towards thelast speaker. 

"Yes, that wasn't a clever remark, " said Alexandra. 

"Don't listen to her, prince, " said Mrs. Epanchin; "she says that sortof thing out of mischief. Don't think anything of their nonsense, itmeans nothing. They love to chaff, but they like you. I can see it intheir faces--I know their faces. "

"I know their faces, too, " said the prince, with a peculiar stress onthe words. 

"How so?" asked Adelaida, with curiosity. 

"What do YOU know about our faces?" exclaimed the other two, in chorus. 

But the prince was silent and serious. All awaited his reply. 

"I'll tell you afterwards, " he said quietly. 

"Ah, you want to arouse our curiosity!" said Aglaya. "And how terriblysolemn you are about it!"

"Very well, " interrupted Adelaida, "then if you can read faces so well, you must have been in love. Come now; I've guessed--let's have thesecret!"

"I have not been in love, " said the prince, as quietly and seriously asbefore. "I have been happy in another way. "

"How, how?"

"Well, I'll tell you, " said the prince, apparently in a deep reverie. 

VI. 

"Here you all are, " began the prince, "settling yourselves down tolisten to me with so much curiosity, that if I do not satisfy you youwill probably be angry with me. No, no! I'm only joking!" he added, hastily, with a smile. 

"Well, then--they were all children there, and I was always amongchildren and only with children. They were the children of the villagein which I lived, and they went to the school there--all of them. I didnot teach them, oh no; there was a master for that, one Jules Thibaut. I may have taught them some things, but I was among them just as anoutsider, and I passed all four years of my life there among them. I wished for nothing better; I used to tell them everything and hidnothing from them. Their fathers and relations were very angry with me, because the children could do nothing without me at last, and used tothrong after me at all times. The schoolmaster was my greatest enemyin the end! I had many enemies, and all because of the children. EvenSchneider reproached me. What were they afraid of? One can tell a childeverything, anything. I have often been struck by the fact that parentsknow their children so little. They should not conceal so much fromthem. How well even little children understand that their parentsconceal things from them, because they consider them too young tounderstand! Children are capable of giving advice in the most importantmatters. How can one deceive these dear little birds, when they lookat one so sweetly and confidingly? I call them birds because there isnothing in the world better than birds!

"However, most of the people were angry with me about one and the samething; but Thibaut simply was jealous of me. At first he had wagged hishead and wondered how it was that the children understood what I toldthem so well, and could not learn from him; and he laughed like anythingwhen I replied that neither he nor I could teach them very much, butthat THEY might teach us a good deal. 

"How he could hate me and tell scandalous stories about me, living amongchildren as he did, is what I cannot understand. Children soothe andheal the wounded heart. I remember there was one poor fellow at ourprofessor's who was being treated for madness, and you have no idea whatthose children did for him, eventually. I don't think he was mad, butonly terribly unhappy. But I'll tell you all about him another day. NowI must get on with this story. 

"The children did not love me at first; I was such a sickly, awkwardkind of a fellow then--and I know I am ugly. Besides, I was a foreigner. The children used to laugh at me, at first; and they even went so faras to throw stones at me, when they saw me kiss Marie. I only kissed heronce in my life--no, no, don't laugh!" The prince hastened to suppressthe smiles of his audience at this point. "It was not a matter of LOVEat all! If only you knew what a miserable creature she was, you wouldhave pitied her, just as I did. She belonged to our village. Her motherwas an old, old woman, and they used to sell string and thread, and soapand tobacco, out of the window of their little house, and lived on thepittance they gained by this trade. The old woman was ill and very old, and could hardly move. Marie was her daughter, a girl of twenty, weakand thin and consumptive; but still she did heavy work at the housesaround, day by day. Well, one fine day a commercial traveller betrayedher and carried her off; and a week later he deserted her. She came homedirty, draggled, and shoeless; she had walked for a whole week withoutshoes; she had slept in the fields, and caught a terrible cold; her feetwere swollen and sore, and her hands torn and scratched all over. Shenever had been pretty even before; but her eyes were quiet, innocent, kind eyes. 

"She was very quiet always--and I remember once, when she had suddenlybegun singing at her work, everyone said, 'Marie tried to sing today!'and she got so chaffed that she was silent for ever after. She had beentreated kindly in the place before; but when she came back now--ill andshunned and miserable--not one of them all had the slightest sympathyfor her. Cruel people! Oh, what hazy understandings they have on suchmatters! Her mother was the first to show the way. She received herwrathfully, unkindly, and with contempt. 'You have disgraced me, ' shesaid. She was the first to cast her into ignominy; but when they allheard that Marie had returned to the village, they ran out to seeher and crowded into the little cottage--old men, children, women, girls--such a hurrying, stamping, greedy crowd. Marie was lying onthe floor at the old woman's feet, hungry, torn, draggled, crying, miserable. 

"When everyone crowded into the room she hid her face in her dishevelledhair and lay cowering on the floor. Everyone looked at her as though shewere a piece of dirt off the road. The old men scolded and condemned, and the young ones laughed at her. The women condemned her too, andlooked at her contemptuously, just as though she were some loathsomeinsect. 

"Her mother allowed all this to go on, and nodded her head andencouraged them. The old woman was very ill at that time, and knew shewas dying (she really did die a couple of months later), and though shefelt the end approaching she never thought of forgiving her daughter, tothe very day of her death. She would not even speak to her. She madeher sleep on straw in a shed, and hardly gave her food enough to supportlife. 

"Marie was very gentle to her mother, and nursed her, and did everythingfor her; but the old woman accepted all her services without a wordand never showed her the slightest kindness. Marie bore all this; andI could see when I got to know her that she thought it quite right andfitting, considering herself the lowest and meanest of creatures. 

"When the old woman took to her bed finally, the other old women in thevillage sat with her by turns, as the custom is there; and then Mariewas quite driven out of the house. They gave her no food at all, and shecould not get any work in the village; none would employ her. The menseemed to consider her no longer a woman, they said such dreadful thingsto her. Sometimes on Sundays, if they were drunk enough, they used tothrow her a penny or two, into the mud, and Marie would silently pick upthe money. She had began to spit blood at that time. 

"At last her rags became so tattered and torn that she was ashamed ofappearing in the village any longer. The children used to pelt her withmud; so she begged to be taken on as assistant cowherd, but the cowherdwould not have her. Then she took to helping him without leave; and hesaw how valuable her assistance was to him, and did not drive her awayagain; on the contrary, he occasionally gave her the remnants of hisdinner, bread and cheese. He considered that he was being very kind. When the mother died, the village parson was not ashamed to hold Marieup to public derision and shame. Marie was standing at the coffin'shead, in all her rags, crying. 

"A crowd of people had collected to see how she would cry. The parson, a young fellow ambitious of becoming a great preacher, began his sermonand pointed to Marie. 'There, ' he said, 'there is the cause of the deathof this venerable woman'--(which was a lie, because she had been ill forat least two years)--'there she stands before you, and dares not lifther eyes from the ground, because she knows that the finger of God isupon her. Look at her tatters and rags--the badge of those who losetheir virtue. Who is she? her daughter!' and so on to the end. 

"And just fancy, this infamy pleased them, all of them, nearly. Only thechildren had altered--for then they were all on my side and had learnedto love Marie. 

"This is how it was: I had wished to do something for Marie; I longed togive her some money, but I never had a farthing while I was there. ButI had a little diamond pin, and this I sold to a travelling pedlar; hegave me eight francs for it--it was worth at least forty. 

"I long sought to meet Marie alone; and at last I did meet her, on thehillside beyond the village. I gave her the eight francs and asked herto take care of the money because I could get no more; and then I kissedher and said that she was not to suppose I kissed her with any evilmotives or because I was in love with her, for that I did so solely outof pity for her, and because from the first I had not accounted her asguilty so much as unfortunate. I longed to console and encourage hersomehow, and to assure her that she was not the low, base thing whichshe and others strove to make out; but I don't think she understood me. She stood before me, dreadfully ashamed of herself, and with downcasteyes; and when I had finished she kissed my hand. I would have kissedhers, but she drew it away. Just at this moment the whole troop ofchildren saw us. (I found out afterwards that they had long kept awatch upon me. ) They all began whistling and clapping their hands, andlaughing at us. Marie ran away at once; and when I tried to talk tothem, they threw stones at me. All the village heard of it the same day, and Marie's position became worse than ever. The children would not lether pass now in the streets, but annoyed her and threw dirt at her morethan before. They used to run after her--she racing away with her poorfeeble lungs panting and gasping, and they pelting her and shoutingabuse at her. 

"Once I had to interfere by force; and after that I took to speakingto them every day and whenever I could. Occasionally they stopped andlistened; but they teased Marie all the same. 

"I told them how unhappy Marie was, and after a while they stopped theirabuse of her, and let her go by silently. Little by little we got intothe way of conversing together, the children and I. I concealed nothingfrom them, I told them all. They listened very attentively and soonbegan to be sorry for Marie. At last some of them took to saying'Good-morning' to her, kindly, when they met her. It is the custom thereto salute anyone you meet with 'Good-morning' whether acquainted or not. I can imagine how astonished Marie was at these first greetings from thechildren. 

"Once two little girls got hold of some food and took it to her, andcame back and told me. They said she had burst into tears, and that theyloved her very much now. Very soon after that they all became fond ofMarie, and at the same time they began to develop the greatest affectionfor myself. They often came to me and begged me to tell them stories. Ithink I must have told stories well, for they did so love to hear them. At last I took to reading up interesting things on purpose to pass themon to the little ones, and this went on for all the rest of my timethere, three years. Later, when everyone--even Schneider--was angry withme for hiding nothing from the children, I pointed out how foolish itwas, for they always knew things, only they learnt them in a way thatsoiled their minds but not so from me. One has only to remember one'sown childhood to admit the truth of this. But nobody was convinced. . . Itwas two weeks before her mother died that I had kissed Marie; and whenthe clergyman preached that sermon the children were all on my side. 

"When I told them what a shame it was of the parson to talk as he haddone, and explained my reason, they were so angry that some of them wentand broke his windows with stones. Of course I stopped them, for thatwas not right, but all the village heard of it, and how I caught it forspoiling the children! Everyone discovered now that the little ones hadtaken to being fond of Marie, and their parents were terribly alarmed;but Marie was so happy. The children were forbidden to meet her; butthey used to run out of the village to the herd and take her food andthings; and sometimes just ran off there and kissed her, and said, 'Jevous aime, Marie!' and then trotted back again. They imagined that Iwas in love with Marie, and this was the only point on which I did notundeceive them, for they got such enjoyment out of it. And what delicacyand tenderness they showed!

"In the evening I used to walk to the waterfall. There was a spot therewhich was quite closed in and hidden from view by large trees; and tothis spot the children used to come to me. They could not bear thattheir dear Leon should love a poor girl without shoes to her feet anddressed all in rags and tatters. So, would you believe it, they actuallyclubbed together, somehow, and bought her shoes and stockings, and somelinen, and even a dress! I can't understand how they managed it, butthey did it, all together. When I asked them about it they only laughedand shouted, and the little girls clapped their hands and kissed me. Isometimes went to see Marie secretly, too. She had become very ill, andcould hardly walk. She still went with the herd, but could not help theherdsman any longer. She used to sit on a stone near, and wait therealmost motionless all day, till the herd went home. Her consumption wasso advanced, and she was so weak, that she used to sit with closed eyes, breathing heavily. Her face was as thin as a skeleton's, and sweat usedto stand on her white brow in large drops. I always found her sittingjust like that. I used to come up quietly to look at her; but Mariewould hear me, open her eyes, and tremble violently as she kissed myhands. I did not take my hand away because it made her happy to have it, and so she would sit and cry quietly. Sometimes she tried to speak; butit was very difficult to understand her. She was almost like a madwoman, with excitement and ecstasy, whenever I came. Occasionally the childrencame with me; when they did so, they would stand some way off and keepguard over us, so as to tell me if anybody came near. This was a greatpleasure to them. 

"When we left her, Marie used to relapse at once into her old condition, and sit with closed eyes and motionless limbs. One day she could notgo out at all, and remained at home all alone in the empty hut; butthe children very soon became aware of the fact, and nearly all of themvisited her that day as she lay alone and helpless in her miserable bed. 

"For two days the children looked after her, and then, when the villagepeople got to know that Marie was really dying, some of the old womencame and took it in turns to sit by her and look after her a bit. Ithink they began to be a little sorry for her in the village at last;at all events they did not interfere with the children any more, on heraccount. 

"Marie lay in a state of uncomfortable delirium the whole while; shecoughed dreadfully. The old women would not let the children stay in theroom; but they all collected outside the window each morning, if onlyfor a moment, and shouted 'Bon jour, notre bonne Marie!' and Marie nosooner caught sight of, or heard them, and she became quite animated atonce, and, in spite of the old women, would try to sit up and nod herhead and smile at them, and thank them. The little ones used to bringher nice things and sweets to eat, but she could hardly touch anything. Thanks to them, I assure you, the girl died almost perfectly happy. Shealmost forgot her misery, and seemed to accept their love as a sort ofsymbol of pardon for her offence, though she never ceased to considerherself a dreadful sinner. They used to flutter at her window just likelittle birds, calling out: 'Nous t'aimons, Marie!'

"She died very soon; I had thought she would live much longer. Theday before her death I went to see her for the last time, just beforesunset. I think she recognized me, for she pressed my hand. 

"Next morning they came and told me that Marie was dead. The childrencould not be restrained now; they went and covered her coffin withflowers, and put a wreath of lovely blossoms on her head. The pastor didnot throw any more shameful words at the poor dead woman; but there werevery few people at the funeral. However, when it came to carrying thecoffin, all the children rushed up, to carry it themselves. Of coursethey could not do it alone, but they insisted on helping, and walkedalongside and behind, crying. 

"They have planted roses all round her grave, and every year they lookalter the flowers and make Marie's resting-place as beautiful as theycan. I was in ill odour after all this with the parents of the children, and especially with the parson and schoolmaster. Schneider was obligedto promise that I should not meet them and talk to them; but weconversed from a distance by signs, and they used to write me sweetlittle notes. Afterwards I came closer than ever to those little souls, but even then it was very dear to me, to have them so fond of me. 

"Schneider said that I did the children great harm by my pernicious'system'; what nonsense that was! And what did he mean by my system?He said afterwards that he believed I was a child myself--just beforeI came away. 'You have the form and face of an adult' he said, 'but asregards soul, and character, and perhaps even intelligence, you are achild in the completest sense of the word, and always will be, if youlive to be sixty. ' I laughed very much, for of course that is nonsense. But it is a fact that I do not care to be among grown-up people andmuch prefer the society of children. However kind people may be to me, Inever feel quite at home with them, and am always glad to get back tomy little companions. Now my companions have always been children, notbecause I was a child myself once, but because young things attractme. On one of the first days of my stay in Switzerland, I was strollingabout alone and miserable, when I came upon the children rushing noisilyout of school, with their slates and bags, and books, their games, theirlaughter and shouts--and my soul went out to them. I stopped and laughedhappily as I watched their little feet moving so quickly. Girls andboys, laughing and crying; for as they went home many of them foundtime to fight and make peace, to weep and play. I forgot my troubles inlooking at them. And then, all those three years, I tried to understandwhy men should be for ever tormenting themselves. I lived the life ofa child there, and thought I should never leave the little village;indeed, I was far from thinking that I should ever return to Russia. But at last I recognized the fact that Schneider could not keep me anylonger. And then something so important happened, that Schneider himselfurged me to depart. I am going to see now if can get good adviceabout it. Perhaps my lot in life will be changed; but that is not theprincipal thing. The principal thing is the entire change that hasalready come over me. I left many things behind me--too many. They havegone. On the journey I said to myself, 'I am going into the world ofmen. I don't know much, perhaps, but a new life has begun for me. ' Imade up my mind to be honest, and steadfast in accomplishing my task. Perhaps I shall meet with troubles and many disappointments, but I havemade up my mind to be polite and sincere to everyone; more cannot beasked of me. People may consider me a child if they like. I am oftencalled an idiot, and at one time I certainly was so ill that I wasnearly as bad as an idiot; but I am not an idiot now. How can I possiblybe so when I know myself that I am considered one?

"When I received a letter from those dear little souls, while passingthrough Berlin, I only then realized how much I loved them. It was very, very painful, getting that first little letter. How melancholy they hadbeen when they saw me off! For a month before, they had been talking ofmy departure and sorrowing over it; and at the waterfall, of an evening, when we parted for the night, they would hug me so tight and kiss me sowarmly, far more so than before. And every now and then they would turnup one by one when I was alone, just to give me a kiss and a hug, toshow their love for me. The whole flock went with me to the station, which was about a mile from the village, and every now and then one ofthem would stop to throw his arms round me, and all the little girls hadtears in their voices, though they tried hard not to cry. As the trainsteamed out of the station, I saw them all standing on the platformwaving to me and crying 'Hurrah!' till they were lost in the distance. 

"I assure you, when I came in here just now and saw your kind faces (Ican read faces well) my heart felt light for the first time since thatmoment of parting. I think I must be one of those who are born to be inluck, for one does not often meet with people whom one feels he can lovefrom the first sight of their faces; and yet, no sooner do I step out ofthe railway carriage than I happen upon you!

"I know it is more or less a shamefaced thing to speak of one's feelingsbefore others; and yet here am I talking like this to you, and am nota bit ashamed or shy. I am an unsociable sort of fellow and shall verylikely not come to see you again for some time; but don't think theworse of me for that. It is not that I do not value your society; andyou must never suppose that I have taken offence at anything. 

"You asked me about your faces, and what I could read in them; I willtell you with the greatest pleasure. You, Adelaida Ivanovna, have a veryhappy face; it is the most sympathetic of the three. Not to speak ofyour natural beauty, one can look at your face and say to one's self, 'She has the face of a kind sister. ' You are simple and merry, but youcan see into another's heart very quickly. That's what I read in yourface. 

"You too, Alexandra Ivanovna, have a very lovely face; but I think youmay have some secret sorrow. Your heart is undoubtedly a kind, good one, but you are not merry. There is a certain suspicion of 'shadow' in yourface, like in that of Holbein's Madonna in Dresden. So much for yourface. Have I guessed right?

"As for your face, Lizabetha Prokofievna, I not only think, but amperfectly SURE, that you are an absolute child--in all, in all, mind, both good and bad-and in spite of your years. Don't be angry with mefor saying so; you know what my feelings for children are. And do notsuppose that I am so candid out of pure simplicity of soul. Oh dear no, it is by no means the case! Perhaps I have my own very profound objectin view. "

VII. 

When the prince ceased speaking all were gazing merrily at him--evenAglaya; but Lizabetha Prokofievna looked the jolliest of all. 

"Well!" she cried, "we HAVE 'put him through his paces, ' with avengeance! My dears, you imagined, I believe, that you were aboutto patronize this young gentleman, like some poor protege picked upsomewhere, and taken under your magnificent protection. What fools wewere, and what a specially big fool is your father! Well done, prince! Iassure you the general actually asked me to put you through your paces, and examine you. As to what you said about my face, you are absolutelycorrect in your judgment. I am a child, and know it. I knew it longbefore you said so; you have expressed my own thoughts. I think yournature and mine must be extremely alike, and I am very glad of it. Weare like two drops of water, only you are a man and I a woman, and I'venot been to Switzerland, and that is all the difference between us. "

"Don't be in a hurry, mother; the prince says that he has some motivebehind his simplicity, " cried Aglaya. 

"Yes, yes, so he does, " laughed the others. 

"Oh, don't you begin bantering him, " said mamma. "He is probably a gooddeal cleverer than all three of you girls put together. We shall see. Only you haven't told us anything about Aglaya yet, prince; and Aglayaand I are both waiting to hear. "

"I cannot say anything at present. I'll tell you afterwards. "

"Why? Her face is clear enough, isn't it?"

"Oh yes, of course. You are very beautiful, Aglaya Ivanovna, sobeautiful that one is afraid to look at you. "

"Is that all? What about her character?" persisted Mrs. Epanchin. 

"It is difficult to judge when such beauty is concerned. I have notprepared my judgment. Beauty is a riddle. "

"That means that you have set Aglaya a riddle!" said Adelaida. "Guessit, Aglaya! But she's pretty, prince, isn't she?"

"Most wonderfully so, " said the latter, warmly, gazing at Aglaya withadmiration. "Almost as lovely as Nastasia Philipovna, but quite adifferent type. "

All present exchanged looks of surprise. 

"As lovely as WHO?" said Mrs. Epanchin. "As NASTASIA PHILIPOVNA? Wherehave you seen Nastasia Philipovna? What Nastasia Philipovna?"

"Gavrila Ardalionovitch showed the general her portrait just now. "

"How so? Did he bring the portrait for my husband?"

"Only to show it. Nastasia Philipovna gave it to Gavrila Ardalionovitchtoday, and the latter brought it here to show to the general. "

"I must see it!" cried Mrs. Epanchin. "Where is the portrait? If shegave it to him, he must have it; and he is still in the study. Henever leaves before four o'clock on Wednesdays. Send for GavrilaArdalionovitch at once. No, I don't long to see HIM so much. Look here, dear prince, BE so kind, will you? Just step to the study and fetch thisportrait! Say we want to look at it. Please do this for me, will you?"

"He is a nice fellow, but a little too simple, " said Adelaida, as theprince left the room. 

"He is, indeed, " said Alexandra; "almost laughably so at times. "

Neither one nor the other seemed to give expression to her fullthoughts. 

"He got out of it very neatly about our faces, though, " said Aglaya. "Heflattered us all round, even mamma. "

"Nonsense" cried the latter. "He did not flatter me. It was I who foundhis appreciation flattering. I think you are a great deal more foolishthan he is. He is simple, of course, but also very knowing. Just likemyself. "

"How stupid of me to speak of the portrait, " thought the prince ashe entered the study, with a feeling of guilt at his heart, "and yet, perhaps I was right after all. " He had an idea, unformed as yet, but astrange idea. 

Gavrila Ardalionovitch was still sitting in the study, buried in amass of papers. He looked as though he did not take his salary from thepublic company, whose servant he was, for a sinecure. 

He grew very wroth and confused when the prince asked for the portrait, and explained how it came about that he had spoken of it. 

"Oh, curse it all, " he said; "what on earth must you go blabbing for?You know nothing about the thing, and yet--idiot!" he added, mutteringthe last word to himself in irrepressible rage. 

"I am very sorry; I was not thinking at the time. I merely said thatAglaya was almost as beautiful as Nastasia Philipovna. "

Gania asked for further details; and the prince once more repeated theconversation. Gania looked at him with ironical contempt the while. 

"Nastasia Philipovna, " he began, and there paused; he was clearly muchagitated and annoyed. The prince reminded him of the portrait. 

"Listen, prince, " said Gania, as though an idea had just struck him, "Iwish to ask you a great favour, and yet I really don't know--"

He paused again, he was trying to make up his mind to something, andwas turning the matter over. The prince waited quietly. Once more Ganiafixed him with intent and questioning eyes. 

"Prince, " he began again, "they are rather angry with me, in there, owing to a circumstance which I need not explain, so that I do not careto go in at present without an invitation. I particularly wish to speakto Aglaya, but I have written a few words in case I shall not have thechance of seeing her" (here the prince observed a small note in hishand), "and I do not know how to get my communication to her. Don't youthink you could undertake to give it to her at once, but only to her, mind, and so that no one else should see you give it? It isn't much of asecret, but still--Well, will you do it?"

"I don't quite like it, " replied the prince. 

"Oh, but it is absolutely necessary for me, " Gania entreated. "Believeme, if it were not so, I would not ask you; how else am I to get it toher? It is most important, dreadfully important!"

Gania was evidently much alarmed at the idea that the prince would notconsent to take his note, and he looked at him now with an expression ofabsolute entreaty. 

"Well, I will take it then. "

"But mind, nobody is to see!" cried the delighted Gania "And of course Imay rely on your word of honour, eh?"

"I won't show it to anyone, " said the prince. 

"The letter is not sealed--" continued Gania, and paused in confusion. 

"Oh, I won't read it, " said the prince, quite simply. 

He took up the portrait, and went out of the room. 

Gania, left alone, clutched his head with his hands. 

"One word from her, " he said, "one word from her, and I may yet befree. "

He could not settle himself to his papers again, for agitation andexcitement, but began walking up and down the room from corner tocorner. 

The prince walked along, musing. He did not like his commission, anddisliked the idea of Gania sending a note to Aglaya at all; but whenhe was two rooms distant from the drawing-room, where they all were, he stopped a though recalling something; went to the window, nearer thelight, and began to examine the portrait in his hand. 

He longed to solve the mystery of something in the face NastasiaPhilipovna, something which had struck him as he looked at the portraitfor the first time; the impression had not left him. It was partly thefact of her marvellous beauty that struck him, and partly somethingelse. There was a suggestion of immense pride and disdain in the facealmost of hatred, and at the same time something confiding and very fullof simplicity. The contrast aroused a deep sympathy in his heart ashe looked at the lovely face. The blinding loveliness of it was almostintolerable, this pale thin face with its flaming eyes; it was a strangebeauty. 

The prince gazed at it for a minute or two, then glanced around him, and hurriedly raised the portrait to his lips. When, a minute after, hereached the drawing-room door, his face was quite composed. But just ashe reached the door he met Aglaya coming out alone. 

"Gavrila Ardalionovitch begged me to give you this, " he said, handingher the note. 

Aglaya stopped, took the letter, and gazed strangely into the prince'seyes. There was no confusion in her face; a little surprise, perhaps, but that was all. By her look she seemed merely to challenge the princeto an explanation as to how he and Gania happened to be connected inthis matter. But her expression was perfectly cool and quiet, and evencondescending. 

So they stood for a moment or two, confronting one another. At length afaint smile passed over her face, and she passed by him without a word. 

Mrs. Epanchin examined the portrait of Nastasia Philipovna for somelittle while, holding it critically at arm's length. 

"Yes, she is pretty, " she said at last, "even very pretty. I have seenher twice, but only at a distance. So you admire this kind of beauty, doyou?" she asked the prince, suddenly. 

"Yes, I do--this kind. "

"Do you mean especially this kind?"

"Yes, especially this kind. "

"Why?"

"There is much suffering in this face, " murmured the prince, more asthough talking to himself than answering the question. 

"I think you are wandering a little, prince, " Mrs. Epanchin decided, after a lengthened survey of his face; and she tossed the portrait on tothe table, haughtily. 

Alexandra took it, and Adelaida came up, and both the girls examined thephotograph. Just then Aglaya entered the room. 

"What a power!" cried Adelaida suddenly, as she earnestly examined theportrait over her sister's shoulder. 

"Whom? What power?" asked her mother, crossly. 

"Such beauty is real power, " said Adelaida. "With such beauty as thatone might overthrow the world. " She returned to her easel thoughtfully. 

Aglaya merely glanced at the portrait--frowned, and put out herunderlip; then went and sat down on the sofa with folded hands. Mrs. Epanchin rang the bell. 

"Ask Gavrila Ardalionovitch to step this way, " said she to the man whoanswered. 

"Mamma!" cried Alexandra, significantly. 

"I shall just say two words to him, that's all, " said her mother, silencing all objection by her manner; she was evidently seriously putout. "You see, prince, it is all secrets with us, just now--all secrets. It seems to be the etiquette of the house, for some reason or, other. Stupid nonsense, and in a matter which ought to be approached with allcandour and open-heartedness. There is a marriage being talked of, and Idon't like this marriage--"

"Mamma, what are you saying?" said Alexandra again, hurriedly. 

"Well, what, my dear girl? As if you can possibly like it yourself? Theheart is the great thing, and the rest is all rubbish--though one musthave sense as well. Perhaps sense is really the great thing. Don't smilelike that, Aglaya. I don't contradict myself. A fool with a heart and nobrains is just as unhappy as a fool with brains and no heart. I am oneand you are the other, and therefore both of us suffer, both of us areunhappy. "

"Why are you so unhappy, mother?" asked Adelaida, who alone of all thecompany seemed to have preserved her good temper and spirits up to now. 

"In the first place, because of my carefully brought-up daughters, " saidMrs. Epanchin, cuttingly; "and as that is the best reason I can give youwe need not bother about any other at present. Enough of words, now!We shall see how both of you (I don't count Aglaya) will manage yourbusiness, and whether you, most revered Alexandra Ivanovna, will behappy with your fine mate. "

"Ah!" she added, as Gania suddenly entered the room, "here's anothermarrying subject. How do you do?" she continued, in response to Gania'sbow; but she did not invite him to sit down. "You are going to bemarried?"

"Married? how--what marriage?" murmured Gania, overwhelmed withconfusion. 

"Are you about to take a wife? I ask, --if you prefer that expression. "

"No, no I-I--no!" said Gania, bringing out his lie with a tell-taleblush of shame. He glanced keenly at Aglaya, who was sitting some wayoff, and dropped his eyes immediately. 

Aglaya gazed coldly, intently, and composedly at him, without taking hereyes off his face, and watched his confusion. 

"No? You say no, do you?" continued the pitiless Mrs. General. "Verywell, I shall remember that you told me this Wednesday morning, inanswer to my question, that you are not going to be married. What day isit, Wednesday, isn't it?"

"Yes, I think so!" said Adelaida. 

"You never know the day of the week; what's the day of the month?"

"Twenty-seventh!" said Gania. 

"Twenty-seventh; very well. Good-bye now; you have a good deal to do, I'm sure, and I must dress and go out. Take your portrait. Give myrespects to your unfortunate mother, Nina Alexandrovna. Au revoir, dearprince, come in and see us often, do; and I shall tell old PrincessBielokonski about you. I shall go and see her on purpose. And listen, my dear boy, I feel sure that God has sent you to Petersburg fromSwitzerland on purpose for me. Maybe you will have other things to do, besides, but you are sent chiefly for my sake, I feel sure of it. Godsent you to me! Au revoir! Alexandra, come with me, my dear. "

Mrs. Epanchin left the room. 

Gania--confused, annoyed, furious--took up his portrait, and turned tothe prince with a nasty smile on his face. 

"Prince, " he said, "I am just going home. If you have not changed yourmind as to living with us, perhaps you would like to come with me. Youdon't know the address, I believe?"

"Wait a minute, prince, " said Aglaya, suddenly rising from her seat, "dowrite something in my album first, will you? Father says you are a mosttalented caligraphist; I'll bring you my book in a minute. " She left theroom. 

"Well, au revoir, prince, " said Adelaida, "I must be going too. " Shepressed the prince's hand warmly, and gave him a friendly smile as sheleft the room. She did not so much as look at Gania. 

"This is your doing, prince, " said Gania, turning on the latter so soonas the others were all out of the room. "This is your doing, sir! YOUhave been telling them that I am going to be married!" He said this ina hurried whisper, his eyes flashing with rage and his face ablaze. "Youshameless tattler!"

"I assure you, you are under a delusion, " said the prince, calmly andpolitely. "I did not even know that you were to be married. "

"You heard me talking about it, the general and me. You heard me saythat everything was to be settled today at Nastasia Philipovna's, andyou went and blurted it out here. You lie if you deny it. Who elsecould have told them Devil take it, sir, who could have told them exceptyourself? Didn't the old woman as good as hint as much to me?"

"If she hinted to you who told her you must know best, of course; but Inever said a word about it. "

"Did you give my note? Is there an answer?" interrupted Gania, impatiently. 

But at this moment Aglaya came back, and the prince had no time toreply. 

"There, prince, " said she, "there's my album. Now choose a page andwrite me something, will you? There's a pen, a new one; do you mind asteel one? I have heard that you caligraphists don't like steel pens. "

Conversing with the prince, Aglaya did not even seem to notice thatGania was in the room. But while the prince was getting his pen ready, finding a page, and making his preparations to write, Gania came up tothe fireplace where Aglaya was standing, to the right of the prince, andin trembling, broken accents said, almost in her ear:

"One word, just one word from you, and I'm saved. "

The prince turned sharply round and looked at both of them. Gania'sface was full of real despair; he seemed to have said the words almostunconsciously and on the impulse of the moment. 

Aglaya gazed at him for some seconds with precisely the same composureand calm astonishment as she had shown a little while before, when theprince handed her the note, and it appeared that this calm surprise andseemingly absolute incomprehension of what was said to her, were moreterribly overwhelming to Gania than even the most plainly expresseddisdain would have been. 

"What shall I write?" asked the prince. 

"I'll dictate to you, " said Aglaya, coming up to the table. "Now then, are you ready? Write, 'I never condescend to bargain!' Now put your nameand the date. Let me see it. "

The prince handed her the album. 

"Capital! How beautifully you have written it! Thanks so much. Aurevoir, prince. Wait a minute, "; she added, "I want to give yousomething for a keepsake. Come with me this way, will you?"

The prince followed her. Arrived at the dining-room, she stopped. 

"Read this, " she said, handing him Gania's note. 

The prince took it from her hand, but gazed at her in bewilderment. 

"Oh! I KNOW you haven't read it, and that you could never be that man'saccomplice. Read it, I wish you to read it. "

The letter had evidently been written in a hurry:

"My fate is to be decided today" (it ran), "you know how. This day Imust give my word irrevocably. I have no right to ask your help, and Idare not allow myself to indulge in any hopes; but once you said justone word, and that word lighted up the night of my life, and became thebeacon of my days. Say one more such word, and save me from utter ruin. Only tell me, 'break off the whole thing!' and I will do so this veryday. Oh! what can it cost you to say just this one word? In doing so youwill but be giving me a sign of your sympathy for me, and of your pity;only this, only this; nothing more, NOTHING. I dare not indulge in anyhope, because I am unworthy of it. But if you say but this word, I willtake up my cross again with joy, and return once more to my battle withpoverty. I shall meet the storm and be glad of it; I shall rise up withrenewed strength. 

"Send me back then this one word of sympathy, only sympathy, I swearto you; and oh! do not be angry with the audacity of despair, with thedrowning man who has dared to make this last effort to save himself fromperishing beneath the waters. 

"G. L. "

"This man assures me, " said Aglaya, scornfully, when the prince hadfinished reading the letter, "that the words 'break off everything'do not commit me to anything whatever; and himself gives me a writtenguarantee to that effect, in this letter. Observe how ingenuously heunderlines certain words, and how crudely he glosses over his hiddenthoughts. He must know that if he 'broke off everything, ' FIRST, byhimself, and without telling me a word about it or having the slightesthope on my account, that in that case I should perhaps be able to changemy opinion of him, and even accept his--friendship. He must know that, but his soul is such a wretched thing. He knows it and cannot makeup his mind; he knows it and yet asks for guarantees. He cannot bringhimself to TRUST, he wants me to give him hopes of myself before he letsgo of his hundred thousand roubles. As to the 'former word' which hedeclares 'lighted up the night of his life, ' he is simply an impudentliar; I merely pitied him once. But he is audacious and shameless. Heimmediately began to hope, at that very moment. I saw it. He has triedto catch me ever since; he is still fishing for me. Well, enough ofthis. Take the letter and give it back to him, as soon as you have leftour house; not before, of course. "

"And what shall I tell him by way of answer?"

"Nothing--of course! That's the best answer. Is it the case that you aregoing to live in his house?"

"Yes, your father kindly recommended me to him. "

"Then look out for him, I warn you! He won't forgive you easily, fortaking back the letter. "

Aglaya pressed the prince's hand and left the room. Her face was seriousand frowning; she did not even smile as she nodded good-bye to him atthe door. 

"I'll just get my parcel and we'll go, " said the prince to Gania, as here-entered the drawing-room. Gania stamped his foot with impatience. Hisface looked dark and gloomy with rage. 

At last they left the house behind them, the prince carrying his bundle. 

"The answer--quick--the answer!" said Gania, the instant they wereoutside. "What did she say? Did you give the letter?" The princesilently held out the note. Gania was struck motionless with amazement. 

"How, what? my letter?" he cried. "He never delivered it! I might haveguessed it, oh! curse him! Of course she did not understand what Imeant, naturally! Why-why-WHY didn't you give her the note, you--"

"Excuse me; I was able to deliver it almost immediately after receivingyour commission, and I gave it, too, just as you asked me to. It hascome into my hands now because Aglaya Ivanovna has just returned it tome. "

"How? When?"

"As soon as I finished writing in her album for her, and when she askedme to come out of the room with her (you heard?), we went into thedining-room, and she gave me your letter to read, and then told me toreturn it. "

"To READ?" cried Gania, almost at the top of his voice; "to READ, andyou read it?"

And again he stood like a log in the middle of the pavement; so amazedthat his mouth remained open after the last word had left it. 

"Yes, I have just read it. "

"And she gave it you to read herself--HERSELF?"

"Yes, herself; and you may believe me when I tell you that I would nothave read it for anything without her permission. "

Gania was silent for a minute or two, as though thinking out someproblem. Suddenly he cried:

"It's impossible, she cannot have given it to you to read! You arelying. You read it yourself!"

"I am telling you the truth, " said the prince in his former composedtone of voice; "and believe me, I am extremely sorry that thecircumstance should have made such an unpleasant impression upon you!"

"But, you wretched man, at least she must have said something? Theremust be SOME answer from her!"

"Yes, of course, she did say something!"

"Out with it then, damn it! Out with it at once!" and Gania stamped hisfoot twice on the pavement. 

"As soon as I had finished reading it, she told me that you were fishingfor her; that you wished to compromise her so far as to receive somehopes from her, trusting to which hopes you might break with theprospect of receiving a hundred thousand roubles. She said that if youhad done this without bargaining with her, if you had broken with themoney prospects without trying to force a guarantee out of her first, she might have been your friend. That's all, I think. Oh no, when Iasked her what I was to say, as I took the letter, she replied that 'noanswer is the best answer. ' I think that was it. Forgive me if I donot use her exact expressions. I tell you the sense as I understood itmyself. "

Ungovernable rage and madness took entire possession of Gania, and hisfury burst out without the least attempt at restraint. 

"Oh! that's it, is it!" he yelled. "She throws my letters out of thewindow, does she! Oh! and she does not condescend to bargain, while IDO, eh? We shall see, we shall see! I shall pay her out for this. "

He twisted himself about with rage, and grew paler and paler; he shookhis fist. So the pair walked along a few steps. Gania did not stand onceremony with the prince; he behaved just as though he were alone inhis room. He clearly counted the latter as a nonentity. But suddenly heseemed to have an idea, and recollected himself. 

"But how was it?" he asked, "how was it that you (idiot that you are), "he added to himself, "were so very confidential a couple of hours afteryour first meeting with these people? How was that, eh?"

Up to this moment jealousy had not been one of his torments; now itsuddenly gnawed at his heart. 

"That is a thing I cannot undertake to explain, " replied the prince. Gania looked at him with angry contempt. 

"Oh! I suppose the present she wished to make to you, when she took youinto the dining-room, was her confidence, eh?"

"I suppose that was it; I cannot explain it otherwise?"

"But why, WHY? Devil take it, what did you do in there? Why did theyfancy you? Look here, can't you remember exactly what you said to them, from the very beginning? Can't you remember?"

"Oh, we talked of a great many things. When first I went in we began tospeak of Switzerland. "

"Oh, the devil take Switzerland!"

"Then about executions. "

"Executions?"

"Yes--at least about one. Then I told the whole three years' story of mylife, and the history of a poor peasant girl--"

"Oh, damn the peasant girl! go on, go on!" said Gania, impatiently. 

"Then how Schneider told me about my childish nature, and--"

"Oh, CURSE Schneider and his dirty opinions! Go on. "

"Then I began to talk about faces, at least about the EXPRESSIONS offaces, and said that Aglaya Ivanovna was nearly as lovely as NastasiaPhilipovna. It was then I blurted out about the portrait--"

"But you didn't repeat what you heard in the study? You didn't repeatthat--eh?"

"No, I tell you I did NOT. "

"Then how did they--look here! Did Aglaya show my letter to the oldlady?"

"Oh, there I can give you my fullest assurance that she did NOT. I wasthere all the while--she had no time to do it!"

"But perhaps you may not have observed it, oh, you damned idiot, you!"he shouted, quite beside himself with fury. "You can't even describewhat went on. "

Gania having once descended to abuse, and receiving no check, very soonknew no bounds or limit to his licence, as is often the way in suchcases. His rage so blinded him that he had not even been able to detectthat this "idiot, " whom he was abusing to such an extent, was veryfar from being slow of comprehension, and had a way of taking inan impression, and afterwards giving it out again, which was veryun-idiotic indeed. But something a little unforeseen now occurred. 

"I think I ought to tell you, Gavrila Ardalionovitch, " said the prince, suddenly, "that though I once was so ill that I really was little betterthan an idiot, yet now I am almost recovered, and that, therefore, it isnot altogether pleasant to be called an idiot to my face. Of course youranger is excusable, considering the treatment you have just experienced;but I must remind you that you have twice abused me rather rudely. Ido not like this sort of thing, and especially so at the first timeof meeting a man, and, therefore, as we happen to be at this momentstanding at a crossroad, don't you think we had better part, you to theleft, homewards, and I to the right, here? I have twenty-five roubles, and I shall easily find a lodging. "

Gania was much confused, and blushed for shame "Do forgive me, prince!"he cried, suddenly changing his abusive tone for one of great courtesy. "For Heaven's sake, forgive me! You see what a miserable plight I amin, but you hardly know anything of the facts of the case as yet. If youdid, I am sure you would forgive me, at least partially. Of course itwas inexcusable of me, I know, but--"

"Oh, dear me, I really do not require such profuse apologies, " repliedthe prince, hastily. "I quite understand how unpleasant your positionis, and that is what made you abuse me. So come along to your house, after all. I shall be delighted--"

"I am not going to let him go like this, " thought Gania, glancingangrily at the prince as they walked along. "The fellow has suckedeverything out of me, and now he takes off his mask--there's somethingmore than appears, here we shall see. It shall all be as clear as waterby tonight, everything!"

But by this time they had reached Gania's house. 

VIII. 

The flat occupied by Gania and his family was on the third floor of thehouse. It was reached by a clean light staircase, and consisted of sevenrooms, a nice enough lodging, and one would have thought a little toogood for a clerk on two thousand roubles a year. But it was designedto accommodate a few lodgers on board terms, and had been taken a fewmonths since, much to the disgust of Gania, at the urgent request of hismother and his sister, Varvara Ardalionovna, who longed to do somethingto increase the family income a little, and fixed their hopes uponletting lodgings. Gania frowned upon the idea. He thought it infra dig, and did not quite like appearing in society afterwards--that society inwhich he had been accustomed to pose up to now as a young man of ratherbrilliant prospects. All these concessions and rebuffs of fortune, of late, had wounded his spirit severely, and his temper had becomeextremely irritable, his wrath being generally quite out of proportionto the cause. But if he had made up his mind to put up with this sort oflife for a while, it was only on the plain understanding with his innerself that he would very soon change it all, and have things as hechose again. Yet the very means by which he hoped to make this changethreatened to involve him in even greater difficulties than he had hadbefore. 

The flat was divided by a passage which led straight out of theentrance-hall. Along one side of this corridor lay the three rooms whichwere designed for the accommodation of the "highly recommended" lodgers. Besides these three rooms there was another small one at the end of thepassage, close to the kitchen, which was allotted to General Ivolgin, the nominal master of the house, who slept on a wide sofa, and wasobliged to pass into and out of his room through the kitchen, and upor down the back stairs. Colia, Gania's young brother, a school-boy ofthirteen, shared this room with his father. He, too, had to sleep onan old sofa, a narrow, uncomfortable thing with a torn rug over it; hischief duty being to look after his father, who needed to be watched moreand more every day. 

The prince was given the middle room of the three, the first beingoccupied by one Ferdishenko, while the third was empty. 

But Gania first conducted the prince to the family apartments. Theseconsisted of a "salon, " which became the dining-room when required; adrawing-room, which was only a drawing-room in the morning, and becameGania's study in the evening, and his bedroom at night; and lastly NinaAlexandrovna's and Varvara's bedroom, a small, close chamber which theyshared together. 

In a word, the whole place was confined, and a "tight fit" for theparty. Gania used to grind his teeth with rage over the state ofaffairs; though he was anxious to be dutiful and polite to his mother. However, it was very soon apparent to anyone coming into the house, thatGania was the tyrant of the family. 

Nina Alexandrovna and her daughter were both seated in the drawing-room, engaged in knitting, and talking to a visitor, Ivan Petrovitch Ptitsin. 

The lady of the house appeared to be a woman of about fifty years ofage, thin-faced, and with black lines under the eyes. She looked ill andrather sad; but her face was a pleasant one for all that; and from thefirst word that fell from her lips, any stranger would at once concludethat she was of a serious and particularly sincere nature. In spite ofher sorrowful expression, she gave the idea of possessing considerablefirmness and decision. 

Her dress was modest and simple to a degree, dark and elderly in style;but both her face and appearance gave evidence that she had seen betterdays. 

Varvara was a girl of some twenty-three summers, of middle height, thin, but possessing a face which, without being actually beautiful, hadthe rare quality of charm, and might fascinate even to the extent ofpassionate regard. 

She was very like her mother: she even dressed like her, which provedthat she had no taste for smart clothes. The expression of her grey eyeswas merry and gentle, when it was not, as lately, too full of thoughtand anxiety. The same decision and firmness was to be observed in herface as in her mother's, but her strength seemed to be more vigorousthan that of Nina Alexandrovna. She was subject to outbursts of temper, of which even her brother was a little afraid. 

The present visitor, Ptitsin, was also afraid of her. This was a youngfellow of something under thirty, dressed plainly, but neatly. Hismanners were good, but rather ponderously so. His dark beard boreevidence to the fact that he was not in any government employ. He couldspeak well, but preferred silence. On the whole he made a decidedlyagreeable impression. He was clearly attracted by Varvara, and made nosecret of his feelings. She trusted him in a friendly way, but had notshown him any decided encouragement as yet, which fact did not quell hisardour in the least. 

Nina Alexandrovna was very fond of him, and had grown quite confidentialwith him of late. Ptitsin, as was well known, was engaged in thebusiness of lending out money on good security, and at a good rate ofinterest. He was a great friend of Gania's. 

After a formal introduction by Gania (who greeted his mother veryshortly, took no notice of his sister, and immediately marched Ptitsinout of the room), Nina Alexandrovna addressed a few kind words to theprince and forthwith requested Colia, who had just appeared at the door, to show him to the "middle room. "

Colia was a nice-looking boy. His expression was simple and confiding, and his manners were very polite and engaging. 

"Where's your luggage?" he asked, as he led the prince away to his room. 

"I had a bundle; it's in the entrance hall. "

"I'll bring it you directly. We only have a cook and one maid, so I haveto help as much as I can. Varia looks after things, generally, andloses her temper over it. Gania says you have only just arrived fromSwitzerland?"

"Yes. "

"Is it jolly there?"

"Very. "

"Mountains?"

"Yes. "

"I'll go and get your bundle. "

Here Varvara joined them. 

"The maid shall bring your bed-linen directly. Have you a portmanteau?"

"No; a bundle--your brother has just gone to the hall for it. "

"There's nothing there except this, " said Colia, returning at thismoment. "Where did you put it?"

"Oh! but that's all I have, " said the prince, taking it. 

"Ah! I thought perhaps Ferdishenko had taken it. "

"Don't talk nonsense, " said Varia, severely. She seemed put out, and wasonly just polite with the prince. 

"Oho!" laughed the boy, "you can be nicer than that to ME, you know--I'mnot Ptitsin!"

"You ought to be whipped, Colia, you silly boy. If you want anything"(to the prince) "please apply to the servant. We dine at half-past four. You can take your dinner with us, or have it in your room, just as youplease. Come along, Colia, don't disturb the prince. "

At the door they met Gania coming in. 

"Is father in?" he asked. Colia whispered something in his ear and wentout. 

"Just a couple of words, prince, if you'll excuse me. Don't blab overTHERE about what you may see here, or in this house as to all that aboutAglaya and me, you know. Things are not altogether pleasant in thisestablishment--devil take it all! You'll see. At all events keep yourtongue to yourself for TODAY. "

"I assure you I 'blabbed' a great deal less than you seem to suppose, "said the prince, with some annoyance. Clearly the relations betweenGania and himself were by no means improving. 

"Oh I well; I caught it quite hot enough today, thanks to you. However, I forgive you. "

"I think you might fairly remember that I was not in any way bound, Ihad no reason to be silent about that portrait. You never asked me notto mention it. "

"Pfu! what a wretched room this is--dark, and the window lookinginto the yard. Your coming to our house is, in no respect, opportune. However, it's not MY affair. I don't keep the lodgings. "

Ptitsin here looked in and beckoned to Gania, who hastily left the room, in spite of the fact that he had evidently wished to say something moreand had only made the remark about the room to gain time. The prince hadhardly had time to wash and tidy himself a little when the door openedonce more, and another figure appeared. 

This was a gentleman of about thirty, tall, broadshouldered, andred-haired; his face was red, too, and he possessed a pair of thicklips, a wide nose, small eyes, rather bloodshot, and with an ironicalexpression in them; as though he were perpetually winking at someone. His whole appearance gave one the idea of impudence; his dress wasshabby. 

He opened the door just enough to let his head in. His head remained soplaced for a few seconds while he quietly scrutinized the room; the doorthen opened enough to admit his body; but still he did not enter. Hestood on the threshold and examined the prince carefully. At last hegave the door a final shove, entered, approached the prince, took hishand and seated himself and the owner of the room on two chairs side byside. 

"Ferdishenko, " he said, gazing intently and inquiringly into theprince's eyes. 

"Very well, what next?" said the latter, almost laughing in his face. 

"A lodger here, " continued the other, staring as before. 

"Do you wish to make acquaintance?" asked the prince. 

"Ah!" said the visitor, passing his fingers through his hair andsighing. He then looked over to the other side of the room and aroundit. "Got any money?" he asked, suddenly. 

"Not much. "

"How much?"

"Twenty-five roubles. "

"Let's see it. "

The prince took his banknote out and showed it to Ferdishenko. Thelatter unfolded it and looked at it; then he turned it round andexamined the other side; then he held it up to the light. 

"How strange that it should have browned so, " he said, reflectively. "These twenty-five rouble notes brown in a most extraordinary way, whileother notes often grow paler. Take it. "

The prince took his note. Ferdishenko rose. 

"I came here to warn you, " he said. "In the first place, don't lend meany money, for I shall certainly ask you to. "

"Very well. "

"Shall you pay here?"

"Yes, I intend to. "

"Oh! I DON'T intend to. Thanks. I live here, next door to you; younoticed a room, did you? Don't come to me very often; I shall see youhere quite often enough. Have you seen the general?"

"No. "

"Nor heard him?"

"No; of course not. "

"Well, you'll both hear and see him soon; he even tries to borrow moneyfrom me. Avis au lecteur. Good-bye; do you think a man can possibly livewith a name like Ferdishenko?"

"Why not?"

"Good-bye. "

And so he departed. The prince found out afterwards that this gentlemanmade it his business to amaze people with his originality and wit, butthat it did not as a rule "come off. " He even produced a bad impressionon some people, which grieved him sorely; but he did not change his waysfor all that. 

As he went out of the prince's room, he collided with yet anothervisitor coming in. Ferdishenko took the opportunity of making severalwarning gestures to the prince from behind the new arrival's back, andleft the room in conscious pride. 

This next arrival was a tall red-faced man of about fifty-five, withgreyish hair and whiskers, and large eyes which stood out of theirsockets. His appearance would have been distinguished had it not beenthat he gave the idea of being rather dirty. He was dressed in an oldcoat, and he smelled of vodka when he came near. His walk was effective, and he clearly did his best to appear dignified, and to impress peopleby his manner. 

This gentleman now approached the prince slowly, and with a mostcourteous smile; silently took his hand and held it in his own, as heexamined the prince's features as though searching for familiar traitstherein. 

"'Tis he, 'tis he!" he said at last, quietly, but with much solemnity. "As though he were alive once more. I heard the familiar name-thedear familiar name--and, oh. I how it reminded me of the irrevocablepast--Prince Muishkin, I believe?"

"Exactly so. "

"General Ivolgin--retired and unfortunate. May I ask your Christian andgeneric names?"

"Lef Nicolaievitch. "

"So, so--the son of my old, I may say my childhood's friend, NicolaiPetrovitch. "

"My father's name was Nicolai Lvovitch. "

"Lvovitch, " repeated the general without the slightest haste, and withperfect confidence, just as though he had not committed himself theleast in the world, but merely made a little slip of the tongue. He satdown, and taking the prince's hand, drew him to a seat next to himself. 

"I carried you in my arms as a baby, " he observed. 

"Really?" asked the prince. "Why, it's twenty years since my fatherdied. "

"Yes, yes--twenty years and three months. We were educated together; Iwent straight into the army, and he--"

"My father went into the army, too. He was a sub-lieutenant in theVasiliefsky regiment. "

"No, sir--in the Bielomirsky; he changed into the latter shortly beforehis death. I was at his bedside when he died, and gave him my blessingfor eternity. Your mother--" The general paused, as though overcome withemotion. 

"She died a few months later, from a cold, " said the prince. 

"Oh, not cold--believe an old man--not from a cold, but from grief forher prince. Oh--your mother, your mother! heigh-ho! Youth--youth! Yourfather and I--old friends as we were--nearly murdered each other for hersake. "

The prince began to be a little incredulous. 

"I was passionately in love with her when she was engaged--engaged to myfriend. The prince noticed the fact and was furious. He came and woke meat seven o'clock one morning. I rise and dress in amazement; silence onboth sides. I understand it all. He takes a couple of pistols out of hispocket--across a handkerchief--without witnesses. Why invite witnesseswhen both of us would be walking in eternity in a couple of minutes? Thepistols are loaded; we stretch the handkerchief and stand opposite oneanother. We aim the pistols at each other's hearts. Suddenly tears startto our eyes, our hands shake; we weep, we embrace--the battle is one ofself-sacrifice now! The prince shouts, 'She is yours;' I cry, 'She isyours--' in a word, in a word--You've come to live with us, hey?"

"Yes--yes--for a while, I think, " stammered the prince. 

"Prince, mother begs you to come to her, " said Colia, appearing at thedoor. 

The prince rose to go, but the general once more laid his hand in afriendly manner on his shoulder, and dragged him down on to the sofa. 

"As the true friend of your father, I wish to say a few words to you, "he began. "I have suffered--there was a catastrophe. I suffered withouta trial; I had no trial. Nina Alexandrovna my wife, is an excellentwoman, so is my daughter Varvara. We have to let lodgings because we arepoor--a dreadful, unheard-of come-down for us--for me, who shouldhave been a governor-general; but we are very glad to have YOU, at allevents. Meanwhile there is a tragedy in the house. "

The prince looked inquiringly at the other. 

"Yes, a marriage is being arranged--a marriage between a questionablewoman and a young fellow who might be a flunkey. They wish to bring thiswoman into the house where my wife and daughter reside, but while Ilive and breathe she shall never enter my doors. I shall lie at thethreshold, and she shall trample me underfoot if she does. I hardlytalk to Gania now, and avoid him as much as I can. I warn you of thisbeforehand, but you cannot fail to observe it. But you are the son of myold friend, and I hope--"

"Prince, be so kind as to come to me for a moment in the drawing-room, "said Nina Alexandrovna herself, appearing at the door. 

"Imagine, my dear, " cried the general, "it turns out that I have nursedthe prince on my knee in the old days. " His wife looked searchingly athim, and glanced at the prince, but said nothing. The prince rose andfollowed her; but hardly had they reached the drawing-room, and NinaAlexandrovna had begun to talk hurriedly, when in came the general. She immediately relapsed into silence. The master of the house may haveobserved this, but at all events he did not take any notice of it; hewas in high good humour. 

"A son of my old friend, dear, " he cried; "surely you must rememberPrince Nicolai Lvovitch? You saw him at--at Tver. "

"I don't remember any Nicolai Lvovitch, Was that your father?" sheinquired of the prince. 

"Yes, but he died at Elizabethgrad, not at Tver, " said the prince, rather timidly. "So Pavlicheff told me. "

"No, Tver, " insisted the general; "he removed just before his death. Youwere very small and cannot remember; and Pavlicheff, though an excellentfellow, may have made a mistake. "

"You knew Pavlicheff then?"

"Oh, yes--a wonderful fellow; but I was present myself. I gave him myblessing. "

"My father was just about to be tried when he died, " said the prince, "although I never knew of what he was accused. He died in hospital. "

"Oh! it was the Kolpakoff business, and of course he would have beenacquitted. "

"Yes? Do you know that for a fact?" asked the prince, whose curiositywas aroused by the general's words. 

"I should think so indeed!" cried the latter. "The court-martial came tono decision. It was a mysterious, an impossible business, one might say!Captain Larionoff, commander of the company, had died; his commandwas handed over to the prince for the moment. Very well. This soldier, Kolpakoff, stole some leather from one of his comrades, intending tosell it, and spent the money on drink. Well! The prince--you understandthat what follows took place in the presence of the sergeant-major, anda corporal--the prince rated Kolpakoff soundly, and threatened to havehim flogged. Well, Kolpakoff went back to the barracks, lay down ona camp bedstead, and in a quarter of an hour was dead: you quiteunderstand? It was, as I said, a strange, almost impossible, affair. In due course Kolpakoff was buried; the prince wrote his report, thedeceased's name was removed from the roll. All as it should be, is itnot? But exactly three months later at the inspection of the brigade, the man Kolpakoff was found in the third company of the second battalionof infantry, Novozemlianski division, just as if nothing had happened!"

"What?" said the prince, much astonished. 

"It did not occur--it's a mistake!" said Nina Alexandrovna quickly, looking, at the prince rather anxiously. "Mon mari se trompe, " sheadded, speaking in French. 

"My dear, 'se trompe' is easily said. Do you remember any case at alllike it? Everybody was at their wits' end. I should be the first to say'qu'on se trompe, ' but unfortunately I was an eye-witness, and was alsoon the commission of inquiry. Everything proved that it was really he, the very same soldier Kolpakoff who had been given the usual militaryfuneral to the sound of the drum. It is of course a most curiouscase--nearly an impossible one. I recognize that. . . But--"

"Father, your dinner is ready, " said Varvara at this point, putting herhead in at the door. 

"Very glad, I'm particularly hungry. Yes, yes, a strangecoincidence--almost a psychological--"

"Your soup'll be cold; do come. "

"Coming, coming, " said the general. "Son of my old friend--" he washeard muttering as he went down the passage. 

"You will have to excuse very much in my husband, if you stay with us, "said Nina Alexandrovna; "but he will not disturb you often. He dinesalone. Everyone has his little peculiarities, you know, and some peopleperhaps have more than those who are most pointed at and laughed at. One thing I must beg of you-if my husband applies to you for paymentfor board and lodging, tell him that you have already paid me. Of courseanything paid by you to the general would be as fully settled as ifpaid to me, so far as you are concerned; but I wish it to be so, if youplease, for convenience' sake. What is it, Varia?"

Varia had quietly entered the room, and was holding out the portrait ofNastasia Philipovna to her mother. 

Nina Alexandrovna started, and examined the photograph intently, gazingat it long and sadly. At last she looked up inquiringly at Varia. 

"It's a present from herself to him, " said Varia; "the question is to befinally decided this evening. "

"This evening!" repeated her mother in a tone of despair, but softly, as though to herself. "Then it's all settled, of course, and there's nohope left to us. She has anticipated her answer by the present of herportrait. Did he show it you himself?" she added, in some surprise. 

"You know we have hardly spoken to each other for a whole month. Ptitsintold me all about it; and the photo was lying under the table, and Ipicked it up. "

"Prince, " asked Nina Alexandrovna, "I wanted to inquire whether you haveknown my son long? I think he said that you had only arrived today fromsomewhere. "

The prince gave a short narrative of what we have heard before, leavingout the greater part. The two ladies listened intently. 

"I did not ask about Gania out of curiosity, " said the elder, at last. "I wish to know how much you know about him, because he said just nowthat we need not stand on ceremony with you. What, exactly, does thatmean?"

At this moment Gania and Ptitsin entered the room together, and NinaAlexandrovna immediately became silent again. The prince remained seatednext to her, but Varia moved to the other end of the room; the portraitof Nastasia Philipovna remained lying as before on the work-table. Ganiaobserved it there, and with a frown of annoyance snatched it up andthrew it across to his writing-table, which stood at the other end ofthe room. 

"Is it today, Gania?" asked Nina Alexandrovna, at last. 

"Is what today?" cried the former. Then suddenly recollecting himself, he turned sharply on the prince. "Oh, " he growled, "I see, you are here, that explains it! Is it a disease, or what, that you can't hold yourtongue? Look here, understand once for all, prince--"

"I am to blame in this, Gania--no one else, " said Ptitsin. 

Gania glanced inquiringly at the speaker. 

"It's better so, you know, Gania--especially as, from one point of view, the matter may be considered as settled, " said Ptitsin; and sittingdown a little way from the table he began to study a paper covered withpencil writing. 

Gania stood and frowned, he expected a family scene. He never thought ofapologizing to the prince, however. 

"If it's all settled, Gania, then of course Mr. Ptitsin is right, " saidNina Alexandrovna. "Don't frown. You need not worry yourself, Gania;I shall ask you no questions. You need not tell me anything you don'tlike. I assure you I have quite submitted to your will. " She said allthis, knitting away the while as though perfectly calm and composed. 

Gania was surprised, but cautiously kept silence and looked at hismother, hoping that she would express herself more clearly. NinaAlexandrovna observed his cautiousness and added, with a bitter smile:

"You are still suspicious, I see, and do not believe me; but you maybe quite at your ease. There shall be no more tears, nor questions--notfrom my side, at all events. All I wish is that you may be happy, youknow that. I have submitted to my fate; but my heart will always bewith you, whether we remain united, or whether we part. Of course I onlyanswer for myself--you can hardly expect your sister--"

"My sister again, " cried Gania, looking at her with contempt and almosthate. "Look here, mother, I have already given you my word that I shallalways respect you fully and absolutely, and so shall everyone else inthis house, be it who it may, who shall cross this threshold. "

Gania was so much relieved that he gazed at his mother almostaffectionately. 

"I was not at all afraid for myself, Gania, as you know well. It was notfor my own sake that I have been so anxious and worried all this time!They say it is all to be settled to-day. What is to be settled?"

"She has promised to tell me tonight at her own house whether sheconsents or not, " replied Gania. 

"We have been silent on this subject for three weeks, " said his mother, "and it was better so; and now I will only ask you one question. How canshe give her consent and make you a present of her portrait when you donot love her? How can such a--such a--"

"Practised hand--eh?"

"I was not going to express myself so. But how could you so blind her?"

Nina Alexandrovna's question betrayed intense annoyance. Gania waited amoment and then said, without taking the trouble to conceal the irony ofhis tone:

"There you are, mother, you are always like that. You begin by promisingthat there are to be no reproaches or insinuations or questions, andhere you are beginning them at once. We had better drop the subject--wehad, really. I shall never leave you, mother; any other man would cutand run from such a sister as this. See how she is looking at me at thismoment! Besides, how do you know that I am blinding Nastasia Philipovna?As for Varia, I don't care--she can do just as she pleases. There, that's quite enough!"

Gania's irritation increased with every word he uttered, as he walked upand down the room. These conversations always touched the family soresbefore long. 

"I have said already that the moment she comes in I go out, and I shallkeep my word, " remarked Varia. 

"Out of obstinacy" shouted Gania. "You haven't married, either, thanksto your obstinacy. Oh, you needn't frown at me, Varvara! You can go atonce for all I care; I am sick enough of your company. What, you aregoing to leave us are you, too?" he cried, turning to the prince, whowas rising from his chair. 

Gania's voice was full of the most uncontrolled and uncontrollableirritation. 

The prince turned at the door to say something, but perceiving inGania's expression that there was but that one drop wanting to make thecup overflow, he changed his mind and left the room without a word. A few minutes later he was aware from the noisy voices in the drawingroom, that the conversation had become more quarrelsome than ever afterhis departure. 

He crossed the salon and the entrance-hall, so as to pass down thecorridor into his own room. As he came near the front door he heardsomeone outside vainly endeavouring to ring the bell, which wasevidently broken, and only shook a little, without emitting any sound. 

The prince took down the chain and opened the door. He started back inamazement--for there stood Nastasia Philipovna. He knew her at once fromher photograph. Her eyes blazed with anger as she looked at him. Shequickly pushed by him into the hall, shouldering him out of her way, andsaid, furiously, as she threw off her fur cloak:

"If you are too lazy to mend your bell, you should at least wait inthe hall to let people in when they rattle the bell handle. There, now, you've dropped my fur cloak--dummy!"

Sure enough the cloak was lying on the ground. Nastasia had thrown itoff her towards the prince, expecting him to catch it, but the princehad missed it. 

"Now then--announce me, quick!"

The prince wanted to say something, but was so confused and astonishedthat he could not. However, he moved off towards the drawing-room withthe cloak over his arm. 

"Now then, where are you taking my cloak to? Ha, ha, ha! Are you mad?"

The prince turned and came back, more confused than ever. When she burstout laughing, he smiled, but his tongue could not form a word as yet. Atfirst, when he had opened the door and saw her standing before him, hehad become as pale as death; but now the red blood had rushed back tohis cheeks in a torrent. 

"Why, what an idiot it is!" cried Nastasia, stamping her foot withirritation. "Go on, do! Whom are you going to announce?"

"Nastasia Philipovna, " murmured the prince. 

"And how do you know that?" she asked him, sharply. 

"I have never seen you before!"

"Go on, announce me--what's that noise?"

"They are quarrelling, " said the prince, and entered the drawing-room, just as matters in there had almost reached a crisis. Nina Alexandrovnahad forgotten that she had "submitted to everything!" She was defendingVaria. Ptitsin was taking her part, too. Not that Varia was afraid ofstanding up for herself. She was by no means that sort of a girl; buther brother was becoming ruder and more intolerable every moment. Herusual practice in such cases as the present was to say nothing, butstare at him, without taking her eyes off his face for an instant. Thismanoeuvre, as she well knew, could drive Gania distracted. 

Just at this moment the door opened and the prince entered, announcing:

"Nastasia Philipovna!"

IX. 

Silence immediately fell on the room; all looked at the prince as thoughthey neither understood, nor hoped to understand. Gania was motionlesswith horror. 

Nastasia's arrival was a most unexpected and overwhelming event to allparties. In the first place, she had never been before. Up to now shehad been so haughty that she had never even asked Gania to introduce herto his parents. Of late she had not so much as mentioned them. Gania waspartly glad of this; but still he had put it to her debit in the accountto be settled after marriage. 

He would have borne anything from her rather than this visit. But onething seemed to him quite clear-her visit now, and the present of herportrait on this particular day, pointed out plainly enough which wayshe intended to make her decision!

The incredulous amazement with which all regarded the prince did notlast long, for Nastasia herself appeared at the door and passed in, pushing by the prince again. 

"At last I've stormed the citadel! Why do you tie up your bell?" shesaid, merrily, as she pressed Gania's hand, the latter having rushedup to her as soon as she made her appearance. "What are you looking soupset about? Introduce me, please!"

The bewildered Gania introduced her first to Varia, and both women, before shaking hands, exchanged looks of strange import. Nastasia, however, smiled amiably; but Varia did not try to look amiable, and kepther gloomy expression. She did not even vouchsafe the usual courteoussmile of etiquette. Gania darted a terrible glance of wrath at herfor this, but Nina Alexandrovna, mended matters a little when Ganiaintroduced her at last. Hardly, however, had the old lady begun abouther "highly gratified feelings, " and so on, when Nastasia left her, andflounced into a chair by Gania's side in the corner by the window, andcried: "Where's your study? and where are the--the lodgers? You do takein lodgers, don't you?"

Gania looked dreadfully put out, and tried to say something in reply, but Nastasia interrupted him:

"Why, where are you going to squeeze lodgers in here? Don't you usea study? Does this sort of thing pay?" she added, turning to NinaAlexandrovna. 

"Well, it is troublesome, rather, " said the latter; "but I suppose itwill 'pay' pretty well. We have only just begun, however--"

Again Nastasia Philipovna did not hear the sentence out. She glanced atGania, and cried, laughing, "What a face! My goodness, what a face youhave on at this moment!"

Indeed, Gania did not look in the least like himself. His bewildermentand his alarmed perplexity passed off, however, and his lips nowtwitched with rage as he continued to stare evilly at his laughingguest, while his countenance became absolutely livid. 

There was another witness, who, though standing at the door motionlessand bewildered himself, still managed to remark Gania's death-likepallor, and the dreadful change that had come over his face. Thiswitness was the prince, who now advanced in alarm and muttered to Gania:

"Drink some water, and don't look like that!"

It was clear that he came out with these words quite spontaneously, onthe spur of the moment. But his speech was productive of much--forit appeared that all. Gania's rage now overflowed upon the prince. Heseized him by the shoulder and gazed with an intensity of loathing andrevenge at him, but said nothing--as though his feelings were too strongto permit of words. 

General agitation prevailed. Nina Alexandrovna gave a little cry ofanxiety; Ptitsin took a step forward in alarm; Colia and Ferdishenkostood stock still at the door in amazement;--only Varia remained coollywatching the scene from under her eyelashes. She did not sit down, but stood by her mother with folded hands. However, Gania recollectedhimself almost immediately. He let go of the prince and burst outlaughing. 

"Why, are you a doctor, prince, or what?" he asked, as naturally aspossible. "I declare you quite frightened me! Nastasia Philipovna, letme introduce this interesting character to you--though I have only knownhim myself since the morning. "

Nastasia gazed at the prince in bewilderment. "Prince? He a Prince? Why, I took him for the footman, just now, and sent him in to announce me!Ha, ha, ha, isn't that good!"

"Not bad that, not bad at all!" put in Ferdishenko, "se non e vero--"

"I rather think I pitched into you, too, didn't I? Forgive me--do! Whois he, did you say? What prince? Muishkin?" she added, addressing Gania. 

"He is a lodger of ours, " explained the latter. 

"An idiot!"--the prince distinctly heard the word half whispered frombehind him. This was Ferdishenko's voluntary information for Nastasia'sbenefit. 

"Tell me, why didn't you put me right when I made such a dreadfulmistake just now?" continued the latter, examining the prince from headto foot without the slightest ceremony. She awaited the answer as thoughconvinced that it would be so foolish that she must inevitably fail torestrain her laughter over it. 

"I was astonished, seeing you so suddenly--" murmured the prince. 

"How did you know who I was? Where had you seen me before? And why wereyou so struck dumb at the sight of me? What was there so overwhelmingabout me?"

"Oho! ho, ho, ho!" cried Ferdishenko. "NOW then, prince! My word, what things I would say if I had such a chance as that! My goodness, prince--go on!"

"So should I, in your place, I've no doubt!" laughed the prince toFerdishenko; then continued, addressing Nastasia: "Your portrait struckme very forcibly this morning; then I was talking about you to theEpanchins; and then, in the train, before I reached Petersburg, ParfenRogojin told me a good deal about you; and at the very moment that Iopened the door to you I happened to be thinking of you, when--there youstood before me!"

"And how did you recognize me?"

"From the portrait!"

"What else?"

"I seemed to imagine you exactly as you are--I seemed to have seen yousomewhere. "

"Where--where?"

"I seem to have seen your eyes somewhere; but it cannot be! I have notseen you--I never was here before. I may have dreamed of you, I don'tknow. "

The prince said all this with manifest effort--in broken sentences, andwith many drawings of breath. He was evidently much agitated. NastasiaPhilipovna looked at him inquisitively, but did not laugh. 

"Bravo, prince!" cried Ferdishenko, delighted. 

At this moment a loud voice from behind the group which hedged in theprince and Nastasia Philipovna, divided the crowd, as it were, andbefore them stood the head of the family, General Ivolgin. He wasdressed in evening clothes; his moustache was dyed. 

This apparition was too much for Gania. Vain and ambitious almost tomorbidness, he had had much to put up with in the last two months, andwas seeking feverishly for some means of enabling himself to lead a morepresentable kind of existence. At home, he now adopted an attitudeof absolute cynicism, but he could not keep this up before NastasiaPhilipovna, although he had sworn to make her pay after marriage for allhe suffered now. He was experiencing a last humiliation, the bitterestof all, at this moment--the humiliation of blushing for his own kindredin his own house. A question flashed through his mind as to whether thegame was really worth the candle. 

For that had happened at this moment, which for two months had been hisnightmare; which had filled his soul with dread and shame--the meetingbetween his father and Nastasia Philipovna. He had often tried toimagine such an event, but had found the picture too mortifying andexasperating, and had quietly dropped it. Very likely he anticipatedfar worse things than was at all necessary; it is often so with vainpersons. He had long since determined, therefore, to get his fatherout of the way, anywhere, before his marriage, in order to avoid sucha meeting; but when Nastasia entered the room just now, he had been sooverwhelmed with astonishment, that he had not thought of his father, and had made no arrangements to keep him out of the way. And now it wastoo late--there he was, and got up, too, in a dress coat and white tie, and Nastasia in the very humour to heap ridicule on him and his familycircle; of this last fact, he felt quite persuaded. What else had shecome for? There were his mother and his sister sitting before her, andshe seemed to have forgotten their very existence already; and if shebehaved like that, he thought, she must have some object in view. 

Ferdishenko led the general up to Nastasia Philipovna. 

"Ardalion Alexandrovitch Ivolgin, " said the smiling general, with a lowbow of great dignity, "an old soldier, unfortunate, and the fatherof this family; but happy in the hope of including in that family soexquisite--"

He did not finish his sentence, for at this moment Ferdishenko pusheda chair up from behind, and the general, not very firm on his legs, at this post-prandial hour, flopped into it backwards. It was always adifficult thing to put this warrior to confusion, and his suddendescent left him as composed as before. He had sat down just opposite toNastasia, whose fingers he now took, and raised to his lips with greatelegance, and much courtesy. The general had once belonged to a veryselect circle of society, but he had been turned out of it two or threeyears since on account of certain weaknesses, in which he now indulgedwith all the less restraint; but his good manners remained with him tothis day, in spite of all. 

Nastasia Philipovna seemed delighted at the appearance of this latestarrival, of whom she had of course heard a good deal by report. 

"I have heard that my son--" began Ardalion Alexandrovitch. 

"Your son, indeed! A nice papa you are! YOU might have come to see meanyhow, without compromising anyone. Do you hide yourself, or does yourson hide you?"

"The children of the nineteenth century, and their parents--" began thegeneral, again. 

"Nastasia Philipovna, will you excuse the general for a moment?Someone is inquiring for him, " said Nina Alexandrovna in a loud voice, interrupting the conversation. 

"Excuse him? Oh no, I have wished to see him too long for that. Why, what business can he have? He has retired, hasn't he? You won't leaveme, general, will you?"

"I give you my word that he shall come and see you--but he--he needsrest just now. "

"General, they say you require rest, " said Nastasia Philipovna, with themelancholy face of a child whose toy is taken away. 

Ardalion Alexandrovitch immediately did his best to make his foolishposition a great deal worse. 

"My dear, my dear!" he said, solemnly and reproachfully, looking at hiswife, with one hand on his heart. 

"Won't you leave the room, mamma?" asked Varia, aloud. 

"No, Varia, I shall sit it out to the end. "

Nastasia must have overheard both question and reply, but her vivacitywas not in the least damped. On the contrary, it seemed to increase. Sheimmediately overwhelmed the general once more with questions, and withinfive minutes that gentleman was as happy as a king, and holding forth atthe top of his voice, amid the laughter of almost all who heard him. 

Colia jogged the prince's arm. 

"Can't YOU get him out of the room, somehow? DO, please, " and tearsof annoyance stood in the boy's eyes. "Curse that Gania!" he muttered, between his teeth. 

"Oh yes, I knew General Epanchin well, " General Ivolgin was saying atthis moment; "he and Prince Nicolai Ivanovitch Muishkin--whose son Ihave this day embraced after an absence of twenty years--and I, were three inseparables. Alas one is in the grave, torn to pieces bycalumnies and bullets; another is now before you, still battling withcalumnies and bullets--"

"Bullets?" cried Nastasia. 

"Yes, here in my chest. I received them at the siege of Kars, and I feelthem in bad weather now. And as to the third of our trio, Epanchin, ofcourse after that little affair with the poodle in the railway carriage, it was all UP between us. "

"Poodle? What was that? And in a railway carriage? Dear me, " saidNastasia, thoughtfully, as though trying to recall something to mind. 

"Oh, just a silly, little occurrence, really not worth telling, aboutPrincess Bielokonski's governess, Miss Smith, and--oh, it is really notworth telling!"

"No, no, we must have it!" cried Nastasia merrily. 

"Yes, of course, " said Ferdishenko. "C'est du nouveau. "

"Ardalion, " said Nina Alexandrovitch, entreatingly. 

"Papa, you are wanted!" cried Colia. 

"Well, it is a silly little story, in a few words, " began the delightedgeneral. "A couple of years ago, soon after the new railway was opened, I had to go somewhere or other on business. Well, I took a first-classticket, sat down, and began to smoke, or rather CONTINUED to smoke, forI had lighted up before. I was alone in the carriage. Smoking is notallowed, but is not prohibited either; it is half allowed--so to speak, winked at. I had the window open. "

"Suddenly, just before the whistle, in came two ladies with a littlepoodle, and sat down opposite to me; not bad-looking women; one was inlight blue, the other in black silk. The poodle, a beauty with a silvercollar, lay on light blue's knee. They looked haughtily about, andtalked English together. I took no notice, just went on smoking. Iobserved that the ladies were getting angry--over my cigar, doubtless. One looked at me through her tortoise-shell eyeglass. 

"I took no notice, because they never said a word. If they didn't likethe cigar, why couldn't they say so? Not a word, not a hint! Suddenly, and without the very slightest suspicion of warning, 'light blue' seizesmy cigar from between my fingers, and, wheugh! out of the window withit! Well, on flew the train, and I sat bewildered, and the young woman, tall and fair, and rather red in the face, too red, glared at me withflashing eyes. 

"I didn't say a word, but with extreme courtesy, I may say with mostrefined courtesy, I reached my finger and thumb over towards the poodle, took it up delicately by the nape of the neck, and chucked it out ofthe window, after the cigar. The train went flying on, and the poodle'syells were lost in the distance. "

"Oh, you naughty man!" cried Nastasia, laughing and clapping her handslike a child. 

"Bravo!" said Ferdishenko. Ptitsin laughed too, though he had been verysorry to see the general appear. Even Colia laughed and said, "Bravo!"

"And I was right, truly right, " cried the general, with warmth andsolemnity, "for if cigars are forbidden in railway carriages, poodlesare much more so. "

"Well, and what did the lady do?" asked Nastasia, impatiently. 

"She--ah, that's where all the mischief of it lies!" replied Ivolgin, frowning. "Without a word, as it were, of warning, she slapped me on thecheek! An extraordinary woman!"

"And you?"

The general dropped his eyes, and elevated his brows; shrugged hisshoulders, tightened his lips, spread his hands, and remained silent. Atlast he blurted out:

"I lost my head!"

"Did you hit her?"

"No, oh no!--there was a great flare-up, but I didn't hit her! I had tostruggle a little, purely to defend myself; but the very devil wasin the business. It turned out that 'light blue' was an Englishwoman, governess or something, at Princess Bielokonski's, and the other womanwas one of the old-maid princesses Bielokonski. Well, everybody knowswhat great friends the princess and Mrs. Epanchin are, so there was apretty kettle of fish. All the Bielokonskis went into mourning for thepoodle. Six princesses in tears, and the Englishwoman shrieking!

"Of course I wrote an apology, and called, but they would not receiveeither me or my apology, and the Epanchins cut me, too!"

"But wait, " said Nastasia. "How is it that, five or six days since, I read exactly the same story in the paper, as happening between aFrenchman and an English girl? The cigar was snatched away exactly asyou describe, and the poodle was chucked out of the window after it. Theslapping came off, too, as in your case; and the girl's dress was lightblue!"

The general blushed dreadfully; Colia blushed too; and Ptitsin turnedhastily away. Ferdishenko was the only one who laughed as gaily asbefore. As to Gania, I need not say that he was miserable; he stood dumband wretched and took no notice of anybody. 

"I assure you, " said the general, "that exactly the same thing happenedto myself!"

"I remembered there was some quarrel between father and Miss Smith, theBielokonski's governess, " said Colia. 

"How very curious, point for point the same anecdote, and happening atdifferent ends of Europe! Even the light blue dress the same, " continuedthe pitiless Nastasia. "I must really send you the paper. "

"You must observe, " insisted the general, "that my experience was twoyears earlier. "

"Ah! that's it, no doubt!"

Nastasia Philipovna laughed hysterically. 

"Father, will you hear a word from me outside!" said Gania, his voiceshaking with agitation, as he seized his father by the shoulder. Hiseyes shone with a blaze of hatred. 

At this moment there was a terrific bang at the front door, almostenough to break it down. Some most unusual visitor must have arrived. Colia ran to open. 

X. 

THE entrance-hall suddenly became full of noise and people. To judgefrom the sounds which penetrated to the drawing-room, a number of peoplehad already come in, and the stampede continued. Several voices weretalking and shouting at once; others were talking and shouting on thestairs outside; it was evidently a most extraordinary visit that wasabout to take place. 

Everyone exchanged startled glances. Gania rushed out towards thedining-room, but a number of men had already made their way in, and methim. 

"Ah! here he is, the Judas!" cried a voice which the prince recognizedat once. "How d'ye do, Gania, you old blackguard?"

"Yes, that's the man!" said another voice. 

There was no room for doubt in the prince's mind: one of the voices wasRogojin's, and the other Lebedeff's. 

Gania stood at the door like a block and looked on in silence, puttingno obstacle in the way of their entrance, and ten or a dozen menmarched in behind Parfen Rogojin. They were a decidedly mixed-lookingcollection, and some of them came in in their furs and caps. None ofthem were quite drunk, but all appeared to De considerably excited. 

They seemed to need each other's support, morally, before they daredcome in; not one of them would have entered alone but with the rest eachone was brave enough. Even Rogojin entered rather cautiously at the headof his troop; but he was evidently preoccupied. He appeared to be gloomyand morose, and had clearly come with some end in view. All the restwere merely chorus, brought in to support the chief character. BesidesLebedeff there was the dandy Zalesheff, who came in without his coatand hat, two or three others followed his example; the rest weremore uncouth. They included a couple of young merchants, a man ina great-coat, a medical student, a little Pole, a small fat man wholaughed continuously, and an enormously tall stout one who apparentlyput great faith in the strength of his fists. A couple of "ladies" ofsome sort put their heads in at the front door, but did not dare comeany farther. Colia promptly banged the door in their faces and lockedit. 

"Hallo, Gania, you blackguard! You didn't expect Rogojin, eh?" said thelatter, entering the drawing-room, and stopping before Gania. 

But at this moment he saw, seated before him, Nastasia Philipovna. He had not dreamed of meeting her here, evidently, for her appearanceproduced a marvellous effect upon him. He grew pale, and his lips becameactually blue. 

"I suppose it is true, then!" he muttered to himself, and his face tookon an expression of despair. "So that's the end of it! Now you, sir, will you answer me or not?" he went on suddenly, gazing at Gania withineffable malice. "Now then, you--"

He panted, and could hardly speak for agitation. He advanced into theroom mechanically; but perceiving Nina Alexandrovna and Varia he becamemore or less embarrassed, in spite of his excitement. His followersentered after him, and all paused a moment at sight of the ladies. Ofcourse their modesty was not fated to be long-lived, but for a momentthey were abashed. Once let them begin to shout, however, and nothing onearth should disconcert them. 

"What, you here too, prince?" said Rogojin, absently, but a littlesurprised all the same "Still in your gaiters, eh?" He sighed, andforgot the prince next moment, and his wild eyes wandered over toNastasia again, as though attracted in that direction by some magneticforce. 

Nastasia looked at the new arrivals with great curiosity. Ganiarecollected himself at last. 

"Excuse me, sirs, " he said, loudly, "but what does all this mean?"He glared at the advancing crowd generally, but addressed his remarksespecially to their captain, Rogojin. "You are not in a stable, gentlemen, though you may think it--my mother and sister are present. "

"Yes, I see your mother and sister, " muttered Rogojin, through histeeth; and Lebedeff seemed to feel himself called upon to second thestatement. 

"At all events, I must request you to step into the salon, " said Gania, his rage rising quite out of proportion to his words, "and then I shallinquire--"

"What, he doesn't know me!" said Rogojin, showing his teethdisagreeably. "He doesn't recognize Rogojin!" He did not move an inch, however. 

"I have met you somewhere, I believe, but--"

"Met me somewhere, pfu! Why, it's only three months since I lost twohundred roubles of my father's money to you, at cards. The old fellowdied before he found out. Ptitsin knows all about it. Why, I've only topull out a three-rouble note and show it to you, and you'd crawl on yourhands and knees to the other end of the town for it; that's the sort ofman you are. Why, I've come now, at this moment, to buy you up! Oh, youneedn't think that because I wear these boots I have no money. I havelots of money, my beauty, --enough to buy up you and all yours together. So I shall, if I like to! I'll buy you up! I will!" he yelled, apparently growing more and more intoxicated and excited. "Oh, NastasiaPhilipovna! don't turn me out! Say one word, do! Are you going to marrythis man, or not?"

Rogojin asked his question like a lost soul appealing to some divinity, with the reckless daring of one appointed to die, who has nothing tolose. 

He awaited the reply in deadly anxiety. 

Nastasia Philipovna gazed at him with a haughty, ironical expression offace; but when she glanced at Nina Alexandrovna and Varia, and from themto Gania, she changed her tone, all of a sudden. 

"Certainly not; what are you thinking of? What could have induced youto ask such a question?" she replied, quietly and seriously, and even, apparently, with some astonishment. 

"No? No?" shouted Rogojin, almost out of his mind with joy. "You arenot going to, after all? And they told me--oh, Nastasia Philipovna--theysaid you had promised to marry him, HIM! As if you COULD doit!--him--pooh! I don't mind saying it to everyone--I'd buy him offfor a hundred roubles, any day pfu! Give him a thousand, or three if helikes, poor devil' and he'd cut and run the day before his wedding, andleave his bride to me! Wouldn't you, Gania, you blackguard? You'd takethree thousand, wouldn't you? Here's the money! Look, I've come onpurpose to pay you off and get your receipt, formally. I said I'd buyyou up, and so I will. "

"Get out of this, you drunken beast!" cried Gania, who was red and whiteby turns. 

Rogojin's troop, who were only waiting for an excuse, set up a howl atthis. Lebedeff stepped forward and whispered something in Parfen's ear. 

"You're right, clerk, " said the latter, "you're right, tipsyspirit--you're right!--Nastasia Philipovna, " he added, looking at herlike some lunatic, harmless generally, but suddenly wound up to a pitchof audacity, "here are eighteen thousand roubles, and--and you shallhave more--. " Here he threw a packet of bank-notes tied up in whitepaper, on the table before her, not daring to say all he wished to say. 

"No-no-no!" muttered Lebedeff, clutching at his arm. He was clearlyaghast at the largeness of the sum, and thought a far smaller amountshould have been tried first. 

"No, you fool--you don't know whom you are dealing with--and it appearsI am a fool, too!" said Parfen, trembling beneath the flashing glanceof Nastasia. "Oh, curse it all! What a fool I was to listen to you!" headded, with profound melancholy. 

Nastasia Philipovna, observing his woe-begone expression, suddenly burstout laughing. 

"Eighteen thousand roubles, for me? Why, you declare yourself a fool atonce, " she said, with impudent familiarity, as she rose from the sofaand prepared to go. Gania watched the whole scene with a sinking of theheart. 

"Forty thousand, then--forty thousand roubles instead of eighteen!Ptitsin and another have promised to find me forty thousand roubles byseven o'clock tonight. Forty thousand roubles--paid down on the nail!"

The scene was growing more and more disgraceful; but Nastasia Philipovnacontinued to laugh and did not go away. Nina Alexandrovna and Varia hadboth risen from their places and were waiting, in silent horror, tosee what would happen. Varia's eyes were all ablaze with anger; butthe scene had a different effect on Nina Alexandrovna. She paled andtrembled, and looked more and more like fainting every moment. 

"Very well then, a HUNDRED thousand! a hundred thousand! paid thisvery day. Ptitsin! find it for me. A good share shall stick to yourfingers--come!"

"You are mad!" said Ptitsin, coming up quickly and seizing him by thehand. "You're drunk--the police will be sent for if you don't look out. Think where you are. "

"Yes, he's boasting like a drunkard, " added Nastasia, as though with thesole intention of goading him. 

"I do NOT boast! You shall have a hundred thousand, this very day. Ptitsin, get the money, you gay usurer! Take what you like for it, butget it by the evening! I'll show that I'm in earnest!" cried Rogojin, working himself up into a frenzy of excitement. 

"Come, come; what's all this?" cried General Ivolgin, suddenly andangrily, coming close up to Rogojin. The unexpectedness of this sally onthe part of the hitherto silent old man caused some laughter among theintruders. 

"Halloa! what's this now?" laughed Rogojin. "You come along with me, oldfellow! You shall have as much to drink as you like. "

"Oh, it's too horrible!" cried poor Colia, sobbing with shame andannoyance. 

"Surely there must be someone among all of you here who will turn thisshameless creature out of the room?" cried Varia, suddenly. She wasshaking and trembling with rage. 

"That's me, I suppose. I'm the shameless creature!" cried NastasiaPhilipovna, with amused indifference. "Dear me, and I came--like a fool, as I am--to invite them over to my house for the evening! Look how yoursister treats me, Gavrila Ardalionovitch. "

For some moments Gania stood as if stunned or struck by lightning, afterhis sister's speech. But seeing that Nastasia Philipovna was reallyabout to leave the room this time, he sprang at Varia and seized her bythe arm like a madman. 

"What have you done?" he hissed, glaring at her as though he would liketo annihilate her on the spot. He was quite beside himself, and couldhardly articulate his words for rage. 

"What have I done? Where are you dragging me to?"

"Do you wish me to beg pardon of this creature because she has come hereto insult our mother and disgrace the whole household, you low, basewretch?" cried Varia, looking back at her brother with proud defiance. 

A few moments passed as they stood there face to face, Gania stillholding her wrist tightly. Varia struggled once--twice--to get free;then could restrain herself no longer, and spat in his face. 

"There's a girl for you!" cried Nastasia Philipovna. "Mr. Ptitsin, Icongratulate you on your choice. "

Gania lost his head. Forgetful of everything he aimed a blow at Varia, which would inevitably have laid her low, but suddenly another handcaught his. Between him and Varia stood the prince. 

"Enough--enough!" said the latter, with insistence, but all of a tremblewith excitement. 

"Are you going to cross my path for ever, damn you!" cried Gania; and, loosening his hold on Varia, he slapped the prince's face with all hisforce. 

Exclamations of horror arose on all sides. The prince grew pale asdeath; he gazed into Gania's eyes with a strange, wild, reproachfullook; his lips trembled and vainly endeavoured to form some words; thenhis mouth twisted into an incongruous smile. 

"Very well--never mind about me; but I shall not allow you to strikeher!" he said, at last, quietly. Then, suddenly, he could bear it nolonger, and covering his face with his hands, turned to the wall, andmurmured in broken accents:

"Oh! how ashamed you will be of this afterwards!"

Gania certainly did look dreadfully abashed. Colia rushed up to comfortthe prince, and after him crowded Varia, Rogojin and all, even thegeneral. 

"It's nothing, it's nothing!" said the prince, and again he wore thesmile which was so inconsistent with the circumstances. 

"Yes, he will be ashamed!" cried Rogojin. "You will be properly ashamedof yourself for having injured such a--such a sheep" (he could not finda better word). "Prince, my dear fellow, leave this and come away withme. I'll show you how Rogojin shows his affection for his friends. "

Nastasia Philipovna was also much impressed, both with Gania's actionand with the prince's reply. 

Her usually thoughtful, pale face, which all this while had been solittle in harmony with the jests and laughter which she had seemed toput on for the occasion, was now evidently agitated by new feelings, though she tried to conceal the fact and to look as though she were asready as ever for jesting and irony. 

"I really think I must have seen him somewhere!" she murmured seriouslyenough. 

"Oh, aren't you ashamed of yourself--aren't you ashamed? Are you reallythe sort of woman you are trying to represent yourself to be? Isit possible?" The prince was now addressing Nastasia, in a tone ofreproach, which evidently came from his very heart. 

Nastasia Philipovna looked surprised, and smiled, but evidentlyconcealed something beneath her smile and with some confusion and aglance at Gania she left the room. 

However, she had not reached the outer hall when she turned round, walked quickly up to Nina Alexandrovna, seized her hand and lifted it toher lips. 

"He guessed quite right. I am not that sort of woman, " she whisperedhurriedly, flushing red all over. Then she turned again and left theroom so quickly that no one could imagine what she had come back for. All they saw was that she said something to Nina Alexandrovna in ahurried whisper, and seemed to kiss her hand. Varia, however, both sawand heard all, and watched Nastasia out of the room with an expressionof wonder. 

Gania recollected himself in time to rush after her in order to show herout, but she had gone. He followed her to the stairs. 

"Don't come with me, " she cried, "Au revoir, till the evening--do youhear? Au revoir!"

He returned thoughtful and confused; the riddle lay heavier than ever onhis soul. He was troubled about the prince, too, and so bewildered thathe did not even observe Rogojin's rowdy band crowd past him and step onhis toes, at the door as they went out. They were all talking at once. Rogojin went ahead of the others, talking to Ptitsin, and apparentlyinsisting vehemently upon something very important. 

"You've lost the game, Gania" he cried, as he passed the latter. 

Gania gazed after him uneasily, but said nothing. 

XI. 

THE prince now left the room and shut himself up in his own chamber. Colia followed him almost at once, anxious to do what he could toconsole him. The poor boy seemed to be already so attached to him thathe could hardly leave him. 

"You were quite right to go away!" he said. "The row will rage thereworse than ever now; and it's like this every day with us--and allthrough that Nastasia Philipovna. "

"You have so many sources of trouble here, Colia, " said the prince. 

"Yes, indeed, and it is all our own fault. But I have a great friend whois much worse off even than we are. Would you like to know him?"

"Yes, very much. Is he one of your school-fellows?"

"Well, not exactly. I will tell you all about him some day. . . . What doyou think of Nastasia Philipovna? She is beautiful, isn't she? Ihad never seen her before, though I had a great wish to do so. Shefascinated me. I could forgive Gania if he were to marry her for love, but for money! Oh dear! that is horrible!"

"Yes, your brother does not attract me much. "

"I am not surprised at that. After what you. . . But I do hate that wayof looking at things! Because some fool, or a rogue pretending to be afool, strikes a man, that man is to be dishonoured for his whole life, unless he wipes out the disgrace with blood, or makes his assailant begforgiveness on his knees! I think that so very absurd and tyrannical. Lermontoff's Bal Masque is based on that idea--a stupid and unnaturalone, in my opinion; but he was hardly more than a child when he wroteit. "

"I like your sister very much. "

"Did you see how she spat in Gania's face! Varia is afraid of no one. But you did not follow her example, and yet I am sure it was not throughcowardice. Here she comes! Speak of a wolf and you see his tail! I feltsure that she would come. She is very generous, though of course she hasher faults. "

Varia pounced upon her brother. 

"This is not the place for you, " said she. "Go to father. Is he plaguingyou, prince?"

"Not in the least; on the contrary, he interests me. "

"Scolding as usual, Varia! It is the worst thing about her. After all, I believe father may have started off with Rogojin. No doubt he is sorrynow. Perhaps I had better go and see what he is doing, " added Colia, running off. 

"Thank God, I have got mother away, and put her to bed without anotherscene! Gania is worried--and ashamed--not without reason! What aspectacle! I have come to thank you once more, prince, and to ask you ifyou knew Nastasia Philipovna before?"

"No, I have never known her. "

"Then what did you mean, when you said straight out to her that she wasnot really 'like that'? You guessed right, I fancy. It is quite possibleshe was not herself at the moment, though I cannot fathom her meaning. Evidently she meant to hurt and insult us. I have heard curious talesabout her before now, but if she came to invite us to her house, whydid she behave so to my mother? Ptitsin knows her very well; he says hecould not understand her today. With Rogojin, too! No one with a sparkof self-respect could have talked like that in the house of her. . . Mother is extremely vexed on your account, too. . . 

"That is nothing!" said the prince, waving his hand. 

"But how meek she was when you spoke to her!"

"Meek! What do you mean?"

"You told her it was a shame for her to behave so, and her mannerchanged at once; she was like another person. You have some influenceover her, prince, " added Varia, smiling a little. 

The door opened at this point, and in came Gania most unexpectedly. 

He was not in the least disconcerted to see Varia there, but he stood amoment at the door, and then approached the prince quietly. 

"Prince, " he said, with feeling, "I was a blackguard. Forgive me!" Hisface gave evidence of suffering. The prince was considerably amazed, and did not reply at once. "Oh, come, forgive me, forgive me!" Ganiainsisted, rather impatiently. "If you like, I'll kiss your hand. There!"

The prince was touched; he took Gania's hands, and embraced himheartily, while each kissed the other. 

"I never, never thought you were like that, " said Muishkin, drawing adeep breath. "I thought you--you weren't capable of--"

"Of what? Apologizing, eh? And where on earth did I get the ideathat you were an idiot? You always observe what other people pass byunnoticed; one could talk sense to you, but--"

"Here is another to whom you should apologize, " said the prince, pointing to Varia. 

"No, no! they are all enemies! I've tried them often enough, believeme, " and Gania turned his back on Varia with these words. 

"But if I beg you to make it up?" said Varia. 

"And you'll go to Nastasia Philipovna's this evening--"

"If you insist: but, judge for yourself, can I go, ought I to go?"

"But she is not that sort of woman, I tell you!" said Gania, angrily. "She was only acting. "

"I know that--I know that; but what a part to play! And think what shemust take YOU for, Gania! I know she kissed mother's hand, and all that, but she laughed at you, all the same. All this is not good enoughfor seventy-five thousand roubles, my dear boy. You are capable ofhonourable feelings still, and that's why I am talking to you so. Oh! DOtake care what you are doing! Don't you know yourself that it will endbadly, Gania?"

So saying, and in a state of violent agitation, Varia left the room. 

"There, they are all like that, " said Gania, laughing, "just as if I donot know all about it much better than they do. "

He sat down with these words, evidently intending to prolong his visit. 

"If you know it so well, " said the prince a little timidly, "why do youchoose all this worry for the sake of the seventy-five thousand, which, you confess, does not cover it?"

"I didn't mean that, " said Gania; "but while we are upon the subject, let me hear your opinion. Is all this worry worth seventy-five thousandor not?

"Certainly not. "

"Of course! And it would be a disgrace to marry so, eh?"

"A great disgrace. "

"Oh, well, then you may know that I shall certainly do it, now. I shallcertainly marry her. I was not quite sure of myself before, but now Iam. Don't say a word: I know what you want to tell me--"

"No. I was only going to say that what surprises me most of all is yourextraordinary confidence. "

"How so? What in?"

"That Nastasia Philipovna will accept you, and that the question is asgood as settled; and secondly, that even if she did, you would be ableto pocket the money. Of course, I know very little about it, but that'smy view. When a man marries for money it often happens that the wifekeeps the money in her own hands. "

"Of course, you don't know all; but, I assure you, you needn't beafraid, it won't be like that in our case. There are circumstances, "said Gania, rather excitedly. "And as to her answer to me, there's nodoubt about that. Why should you suppose she will refuse me?"

"Oh, I only judge by what I see. Varvara Ardalionovna said just now--"

"Oh she--they don't know anything about it! Nastasia was only chaffingRogojin. I was alarmed at first, but I have thought better of it now;she was simply laughing at him. She looks on me as a fool because I showthat I meant her money, and doesn't realize that there are other menwho would deceive her in far worse fashion. I'm not going to pretendanything, and you'll see she'll marry me, all right. If she likes tolive quietly, so she shall; but if she gives me any of her nonsense, Ishall leave her at once, but I shall keep the money. I'm not going tolook a fool; that's the first thing, not to look a fool. "

"But Nastasia Philipovna seems to me to be such a SENSIBLE woman, and, as such, why should she run blindly into this business? That's whatpuzzles me so, " said the prince. 

"You don't know all, you see; I tell you there are things--and besides, I'm sure that she is persuaded that I love her to distraction, and Igive you my word I have a strong suspicion that she loves me, too--inher own way, of course. She thinks she will be able to make a sort ofslave of me all my life; but I shall prepare a little surprise for her. I don't know whether I ought to be confidential with you, prince; but, I assure you, you are the only decent fellow I have come across. I havenot spoken so sincerely as I am doing at this moment for years. Thereare uncommonly few honest people about, prince; there isn't one honesterthan Ptitsin, he's the best of the lot. Are you laughing? You don'tknow, perhaps, that blackguards like honest people, and being one myselfI like you. WHY am I a blackguard? Tell me honestly, now. They all callme a blackguard because of her, and I have got into the way of thinkingmyself one. That's what is so bad about the business. "

"I for one shall never think you a blackguard again, " said the prince. "I confess I had a poor opinion of you at first, but I have been sojoyfully surprised about you just now; it's a good lesson for me. Ishall never judge again without a thorough trial. I see now that you areriot only not a blackguard, but are not even quite spoiled. I see thatyou are quite an ordinary man, not original in the least degree, butrather weak. "

Gania laughed sarcastically, but said nothing. The prince, seeing thathe did not quite like the last remark, blushed, and was silent too. 

"Has my father asked you for money?" asked Gania, suddenly. 

"No. "

"Don't give it to him if he does. Fancy, he was a decent, respectableman once! He was received in the best society; he was not always theliar he is now. Of course, wine is at the bottom of it all; but he is agood deal worse than an innocent liar now. Do you know that he keeps amistress? I can't understand how mother is so long-suffering. Did hetell you the story of the siege of Kars? Or perhaps the one about hisgrey horse that talked? He loves, to enlarge on these absurd histories. "And Gania burst into a fit of laughter. Suddenly he turned to the princeand asked: "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I am surprised to see you laugh in that way, like a child. You cameto make friends with me again just now, and you said, 'I will kiss yourhand, if you like, ' just as a child would have said it. And then, all atonce you are talking of this mad project--of these seventy-five thousandroubles! It all seems so absurd and impossible. "

"Well, what conclusion have you reached?"

"That you are rushing madly into the undertaking, and that you woulddo well to think it over again. It is more than possible that VarvaraArdalionovna is right. "

"Ah! now you begin to moralize! I know that I am only a child, verywell, " replied Gania impatiently. "That is proved by my having thisconversation with you. It is not for money only, prince, that I amrushing into this affair, " he continued, hardly master of his words, so closely had his vanity been touched. "If I reckoned on that I shouldcertainly be deceived, for I am still too weak in mind and character. I am obeying a passion, an impulse perhaps, because I have but one aim, one that overmasters all else. You imagine that once I am in possessionof these seventy-five thousand roubles, I shall rush to buy acarriage. . . No, I shall go on wearing the old overcoat I have worn forthree years, and I shall give up my club. I shall follow the example ofmen who have made their fortunes. When Ptitsin was seventeen he sleptin the street, he sold pen-knives, and began with a copeck; now he hassixty thousand roubles, but to get them, what has he not done? Well, I shall be spared such a hard beginning, and shall start with a littlecapital. In fifteen years people will say, 'Look, that's Ivolgin, theking of the Jews!' You say that I have no originality. Now mark this, prince--there is nothing so offensive to a man of our time and racethan to be told that he is wanting in originality, that he is weakin character, has no particular talent, and is, in short, an ordinaryperson. You have not even done me the honour of looking upon me as arogue. Do you know, I could have knocked you down for that just now! Youwounded me more cruelly than Epanchin, who thinks me capable of sellinghim my wife! Observe, it was a perfectly gratuitous idea on his part, seeing there has never been any discussion of it between us! This hasexasperated me, and I am determined to make a fortune! I will do it!Once I am rich, I shall be a genius, an extremely original man. One ofthe vilest and most hateful things connected with money is that it canbuy even talent; and will do so as long as the world lasts. You will saythat this is childish--or romantic. Well, that will be all the betterfor me, but the thing shall be done. I will carry it through. He laughsmost, who laughs last. Why does Epanchin insult me? Simply because, socially, I am a nobody. However, enough for the present. Colia has puthis nose in to tell us dinner is ready, twice. I'm dining out. I shallcome and talk to you now and then; you shall be comfortable enough withus. They are sure to make you one of the family. I think you and Iwill either be great friends or enemies. Look here now, supposing I hadkissed your hand just now, as I offered to do in all sincerity, should Ihave hated you for it afterwards?"

"Certainly, but not always. You would not have been able to keep it up, and would have ended by forgiving me, " said the prince, after a pausefor reflection, and with a pleasant smile. 

"Oho, how careful one has to be with you, prince! Haven't you put a dropof poison in that remark now, eh? By the way--ha, ha, ha!--I forgot toask, was I right in believing that you were a good deal struck yourselfwith Nastasia Philipovna. "

"Ye-yes. "

"Are you in love with her?"

"N-no. "

"And yet you flush up as red as a rosebud! Come--it's all right. I'm notgoing to laugh at you. Do you know she is a very virtuous woman? Believeit or not, as you like. You think she and Totski--not a bit of it, not abit of it! Not for ever so long! Au revoir!"

Gania left the room in great good humour. The prince stayed behind, andmeditated alone for a few minutes. At length, Colia popped his head inonce more. 

"I don't want any dinner, thanks, Colia. I had too good a lunch atGeneral Epanchin's. "

Colia came into the room and gave the prince a note; it was from thegeneral and was carefully sealed up. It was clear from Colia's face howpainful it was to him to deliver the missive. The prince read it, rose, and took his hat. 

"It's only a couple of yards, " said Colia, blushing. 

"He's sitting there over his bottle--and how they can give him credit, I cannot understand. Don't tell mother I brought you the note, prince;I have sworn not to do it a thousand times, but I'm always so sorry forhim. Don't stand on ceremony, give him some trifle, and let that endit. "

"Come along, Colia, I want to see your father. I have an idea, " said theprince. 

XII. 

Colia took the prince to a public-house in the Litaynaya, not far off. In one of the side rooms there sat at a table--looking like one of theregular guests of the establishment--Ardalion Alexandrovitch, with abottle before him, and a newspaper on his knee. He was waiting forthe prince, and no sooner did the latter appear than he began a longharangue about something or other; but so far gone was he that theprince could hardly understand a word. 

"I have not got a ten-rouble note, " said the prince; "but here is atwenty-five. Change it and give me back the fifteen, or I shall be leftwithout a farthing myself. "

"Oh, of course, of course; and you quite understand that I--"

"Yes; and I have another request to make, general. Have you ever been atNastasia Philipovna's?"

"I? I? Do you mean me? Often, my friend, often! I only pretended Ihad not in order to avoid a painful subject. You saw today, you were awitness, that I did all that a kind, an indulgent father could do. Nowa father of altogether another type shall step into the scene. You shallsee; the old soldier shall lay bare this intrigue, or a shameless womanwill force her way into a respectable and noble family. "

"Yes, quite so. I wished to ask you whether you could show me the wayto Nastasia Philipovna's tonight. I must go; I have business with her; Iwas not invited but I was introduced. Anyhow I am ready to trespass thelaws of propriety if only I can get in somehow or other. "

"My dear young friend, you have hit on my very idea. It was not for thisrubbish I asked you to come over here" (he pocketed the money, however, at this point), "it was to invite your alliance in the campaign againstNastasia Philipovna tonight. How well it sounds, 'General Ivolgin andPrince Muishkin. ' That'll fetch her, I think, eh? Capital! We'll go atnine; there's time yet. "

"Where does she live?"

"Oh, a long way off, near the Great Theatre, just in the squarethere--It won't be a large party. "

The general sat on and on. He had ordered a fresh bottle when the princearrived; this took him an hour to drink, and then he had another, andanother, during the consumption of which he told pretty nearly the wholestory of his life. The prince was in despair. He felt that though he hadbut applied to this miserable old drunkard because he saw no other wayof getting to Nastasia Philipovna's, yet he had been very wrong to putthe slightest confidence in such a man. 

At last he rose and declared that he would wait no longer. The generalrose too, drank the last drops that he could squeeze out of the bottle, and staggered into the street. 

Muishkin began to despair. He could not imagine how he had been sofoolish as to trust this man. He only wanted one thing, and that was toget to Nastasia Philipovna's, even at the cost of a certain amountof impropriety. But now the scandal threatened to be more than hehad bargained for. By this time Ardalion Alexandrovitch was quiteintoxicated, and he kept his companion listening while he discoursedeloquently and pathetically on subjects of all kinds, interspersed withtorrents of recrimination against the members of his family. He insistedthat all his troubles were caused by their bad conduct, and time alonewould put an end to them. 

At last they reached the Litaynaya. The thaw increased steadily, a warm, unhealthy wind blew through the streets, vehicles splashed through themud, and the iron shoes of horses and mules rang on the paving stones. Crowds of melancholy people plodded wearily along the footpaths, withhere and there a drunken man among them. 

"Do you see those brightly-lighted windows?" said the general. "Many ofmy old comrades-in-arms live about here, and I, who served longer, andsuffered more than any of them, am walking on foot to the house ofa woman of rather questionable reputation! A man, look you, who hasthirteen bullets on his breast!. . . You don't believe it? Well, I canassure you it was entirely on my account that Pirogoff telegraphedto Paris, and left Sebastopol at the greatest risk during the siege. Nelaton, the Tuileries surgeon, demanded a safe conduct, in the nameof science, into the besieged city in order to attend my wounds. Thegovernment knows all about it. 'That's the Ivolgin with thirteen bulletsin him!' That's how they speak of me. . . . Do you see that house, prince?One of my old friends lives on the first floor, with his large family. In this and five other houses, three overlooking Nevsky, two in theMorskaya, are all that remain of my personal friends. Nina Alexandrovnagave them up long ago, but I keep in touch with them still. . . I maysay I find refreshment in this little coterie, in thus meeting my oldacquaintances and subordinates, who worship me still, in spite of all. General Sokolovitch (by the way, I have not called on him lately, orseen Anna Fedorovna). . . You know, my dear prince, when a person doesnot receive company himself, he gives up going to other people's housesinvoluntarily. And yet. . . Well. . . You look as if you didn't believeme. . . . Well now, why should I not present the son of my old friendand companion to this delightful family--General Ivolgin and PrinceMuishkin? You will see a lovely girl--what am I saying--a lovely girl?No, indeed, two, three! Ornaments of this city and of society: beauty, education, culture--the woman question--poetry--everything! Added towhich is the fact that each one will have a dot of at least eightythousand roubles. No bad thing, eh?. . . In a word I absolutely mustintroduce you to them: it is a duty, an obligation. General Ivolgin andPrince Muishkin. Tableau!"

"At once? Now? You must have forgotten. . . " began the prince. 

"No, I have forgotten nothing. Come! This is the house--up thismagnificent staircase. I am surprised not to see the porter, but . . . . Itis a holiday. . . And the man has gone off. . . Drunken fool! Why have theynot got rid of him? Sokolovitch owes all the happiness he has had inthe service and in his private life to me, and me alone, but. . . Here weare. "

The prince followed quietly, making no further objection for fear ofirritating the old man. At the same time he fervently hoped that GeneralSokolovitch and his family would fade away like a mirage in the desert, so that the visitors could escape, by merely returning downstairs. Butto his horror he saw that General Ivolgin was quite familiar with thehouse, and really seemed to have friends there. At every step he namedsome topographical or biographical detail that left nothing to bedesired on the score of accuracy. When they arrived at last, on thefirst floor, and the general turned to ring the bell to the right, the prince decided to run away, but a curious incident stopped himmomentarily. 

"You have made a mistake, general, " said he. "The name on the door isKoulakoff, and you were going to see General Sokolovitch. "

"Koulakoff. . . Koulakoff means nothing. This is Sokolovitch's flat, andI am ringing at his door. . . . What do I care for Koulakoff?. . . Here comessomeone to open. "

In fact, the door opened directly, and the footman in formed thevisitors that the family were all away. 

"What a pity! What a pity! It's just my luck!" repeated ArdalionAlexandrovitch over and over again, in regretful tones. "When yourmaster and mistress return, my man, tell them that General Ivolginand Prince Muishkin desired to present themselves, and that they wereextremely sorry, excessively grieved. . . "

Just then another person belonging to the household was seen at theback of the hall. It was a woman of some forty years, dressed in sombrecolours, probably a housekeeper or a governess. Hearing the names shecame forward with a look of suspicion on her face. 

"Marie Alexandrovna is not at home, " said she, staring hard at thegeneral. "She has gone to her mother's, with Alexandra Michailovna. "

"Alexandra Michailovna out, too! How disappointing! Would you believeit, I am always so unfortunate! May I most respectfully ask you topresent my compliments to Alexandra Michailovna, and remind her. . . Tellher, that with my whole heart I wish for her what she wished for herselfon Thursday evening, while she was listening to Chopin's Ballade. Shewill remember. I wish it with all sincerity. General Ivolgin and PrinceMuishkin!"

The woman's face changed; she lost her suspicious expression. 

"I will not fail to deliver your message, " she replied, and bowed themout. 

As they went downstairs the general regretted repeatedly that he hadfailed to introduce the prince to his friends. 

"You know I am a bit of a poet, " said he. "Have you noticed it? Thepoetic soul, you know. " Then he added suddenly--"But after all. . . After all I believe we made a mistake this time! I remember that theSokolovitch's live in another house, and what is more, they are justnow in Moscow. Yes, I certainly was at fault. However, it is of noconsequence. "

"Just tell me, " said the prince in reply, "may I count still on yourassistance? Or shall I go on alone to see Nastasia Philipovna?"

"Count on my assistance? Go alone? How can you ask me that question, when it is a matter on which the fate of my family so largely depends?You don't know Ivolgin, my friend. To trust Ivolgin is to trust a rock;that's how the first squadron I commanded spoke of me. 'Depend uponIvolgin, ' said they all, 'he is as steady as a rock. ' But, excuse me, I must just call at a house on our way, a house where I have foundconsolation and help in all my trials for years. "

"You are going home?"

"No. . . I wish. . . To visit Madame Terentieff, the widow of CaptainTerentieff, my old subordinate and friend. She helps me to keep up mycourage, and to bear the trials of my domestic life, and as I have anextra burden on my mind today. . . "

"It seems to me, " interrupted the prince, "that I was foolish to troubleyou just now. However, at present you. . . Good-bye!"

"Indeed, you must not go away like that, young man, you must not!" criedthe general. "My friend here is a widow, the mother of a family; herwords come straight from her heart, and find an echo in mine. A visitto her is merely an affair of a few minutes; I am quite at home in herhouse. I will have a wash, and dress, and then we can drive to the GrandTheatre. Make up your mind to spend the evening with me. . . . We arejust there--that's the house. . . Why, Colia! you here! Well, is MarfaBorisovna at home or have you only just come?"

"Oh no! I have been here a long while, " replied Colia, who was at thefront door when the general met him. "I am keeping Hippolyte company. He is worse, and has been in bed all day. I came down to buy some cards. Marfa Borisovna expects you. But what a state you are in, father!" addedthe boy, noticing his father's unsteady gait. "Well, let us go in. "

On meeting Colia the prince determined to accompany the general, thoughhe made up his mind to stay as short a time as possible. He wantedColia, but firmly resolved to leave the general behind. He could notforgive himself for being so simple as to imagine that Ivolgin would beof any use. The three climbed up the long staircase until they reachedthe fourth floor where Madame Terentieff lived. 

"You intend to introduce the prince?" asked Colia, as they went up. 

"Yes, my boy. I wish to present him: General Ivolgin and PrinceMuishkin! But what's the matter?. . . What?. . . How is Marfa Borisovna?"

"You know, father, you would have done much better not to come at all!She is ready to eat you up! You have not shown yourself since the daybefore yesterday and she is expecting the money. Why did you promise herany? You are always the same! Well, now you will have to get out of itas best you can. "

They stopped before a somewhat low doorway on the fourth floor. ArdalionAlexandrovitch, evidently much out of countenance, pushed Muishkin infront. 

"I will wait here, " he stammered. "I should like to surprise her. . . . . "

Colia entered first, and as the door stood open, the mistress of thehouse peeped out. The surprise of the general's imagination fell veryflat, for she at once began to address him in terms of reproach. 

Marfa Borisovna was about forty years of age. She wore adressing-jacket, her feet were in slippers, her face painted, and herhair was in dozens of small plaits. No sooner did she catch sight ofArdalion Alexandrovitch than she screamed:

"There he is, that wicked, mean wretch! I knew it was he! My heartmisgave me!"

The old man tried to put a good face on the affair. 

"Come, let us go in--it's all right, " he whispered in the prince's ear. 

But it was more serious than he wished to think. As soon as the visitorshad crossed the low dark hall, and entered the narrow reception-room, furnished with half a dozen cane chairs, and two small card-tables, Madame Terentieff, in the shrill tones habitual to her, continued herstream of invectives. 

"Are you not ashamed? Are you not ashamed? You barbarian! You tyrant!You have robbed me of all I possessed--you have sucked my bones to themarrow. How long shall I be your victim? Shameless, dishonourable man!"

"Marfa Borisovna! Marfa Borisovna! Here is. . . The Prince Muishkin!General Ivolgin and Prince Muishkin, " stammered the disconcerted oldman. 

"Would you believe, " said the mistress of the house, suddenly addressingthe prince, "would you believe that that man has not even spared myorphan children? He has stolen everything I possessed, sold everything, pawned everything; he has left me nothing--nothing! What am I to do withyour IOU's, you cunning, unscrupulous rogue? Answer, devourer I answer, heart of stone! How shall I feed my orphans? with what shall I nourishthem? And now he has come, he is drunk! He can scarcely stand. How, ohhow, have I offended the Almighty, that He should bring this curse uponme! Answer, you worthless villain, answer!"

But this was too much for the general. 

"Here are twenty-five roubles, Marfa Borisovna. . . It is all that Ican give. . . And I owe even these to the prince's generosity--my noblefriend. I have been cruelly deceived. Such is. . . Life. . . Now. . . Excuseme, I am very weak, " he continued, standing in the centre of theroom, and bowing to all sides. "I am faint; excuse me! Lenotchka. . . Acushion. . . My dear!"

Lenotchka, a little girl of eight, ran to fetch the cushion at once, andplaced it on the rickety old sofa. The general meant to have said muchmore, but as soon as he had stretched himself out, he turned his face tothe wall, and slept the sleep of the just. 

With a grave and ceremonious air, Marfa Borisovna motioned the prince toa chair at one of the card-tables. She seated herself opposite, leanedher right cheek on her hand, and sat in silence, her eyes fixed onMuishkin, now and again sighing deeply. The three children, two littlegirls and a boy, Lenotchka being the eldest, came and leant on thetable and also stared steadily at him. Presently Colia appeared from theadjoining room. 

"I am very glad indeed to have met you here, Colia, " said the prince. "Can you do something for me? I must see Nastasia Philipovna, and Iasked Ardalion Alexandrovitch just now to take me to her house, but hehas gone to sleep, as you see. Will you show me the way, for I do notknow the street? I have the address, though; it is close to the GrandTheatre. "

"Nastasia Philipovna? She does not live there, and to tell you the truthmy father has never been to her house! It is strange that you shouldhave depended on him! She lives near Wladimir Street, at the FiveCorners, and it is quite close by. Will you go directly? It is justhalf-past nine. I will show you the way with pleasure. "

Colia and the prince went off together. Alas! the latter had no money topay for a cab, so they were obliged to walk. 

"I should have liked to have taken you to see Hippolyte, " said Colia. "He is the eldest son of the lady you met just now, and was in the nextroom. He is ill, and has been in bed all day. But he is rather strange, and extremely sensitive, and I thought he might be upset consideringthe circumstances in which you came. . . Somehow it touches me less, asit concerns my father, while it is HIS mother. That, of course, makesa great difference. What is a terrible disgrace to a woman, does notdisgrace a man, at least not in the same way. Perhaps public opinionis wrong in condemning one sex, and excusing the other. Hippolyte isan extremely clever boy, but so prejudiced. He is really a slave to hisopinions. "

"Do you say he is consumptive?"

"Yes. It really would be happier for him to die young. If I were in hisplace I should certainly long for death. He is unhappy about his brotherand sisters, the children you saw. If it were possible, if we only had alittle money, we should leave our respective families, and live togetherin a little apartment of our own. It is our dream. But, do you know, when I was talking over your affair with him, he was angry, and saidthat anyone who did not call out a man who had given him a blow was acoward. He is very irritable to-day, and I left off arguing the matterwith him. So Nastasia Philipovna has invited you to go and see her?"

"To tell the truth, she has not. "

"Then how do you come to be going there?" cried Colia, so muchastonished that he stopped short in the middle of the pavement. "And. . . And are you going to her At Home in that costume?"

"I don't know, really, whether I shall be allowed in at all. If she willreceive me, so much the better. If not, the matter is ended. As to myclothes--what can I do?"

"Are you going there for some particular reason, or only as a way ofgetting into her society, and that of her friends?"

"No, I have really an object in going. . . That is, I am going on businessit is difficult to explain, but. . . "

"Well, whether you go on business or not is your affair, I do not wantto know. The only important thing, in my eyes, is that you should notbe going there simply for the pleasure of spending your evening in suchcompany--cocottes, generals, usurers! If that were the case I shoulddespise and laugh at you. There are terribly few honest people here, and hardly any whom one can respect, although people put on airs--Variaespecially! Have you noticed, prince, how many adventurers there arenowadays? Especially here, in our dear Russia. How it has happened Inever can understand. There used to be a certain amount of solidity inall things, but now what happens? Everything is exposed to the publicgaze, veils are thrown back, every wound is probed by careless fingers. We are for ever present at an orgy of scandalous revelations. Parentsblush when they remember their old-fashioned morality. At Moscow latelya father was heard urging his son to stop at nothing--at nothing, mindyou!--to get money! The press seized upon the story, of course, and nowit is public property. Look at my father, the general! See what he is, and yet, I assure you, he is an honest man! Only. . . He drinks too much, and his morals are not all we could desire. Yes, that's true! I pityhim, to tell the truth, but I dare not say so, because everybody wouldlaugh at me--but I do pity him! And who are the really clever men, afterall? Money-grubbers, every one of them, from the first to the last. Hippolyte finds excuses for money-lending, and says it is a necessity. He talks about the economic movement, and the ebb and flow of capital;the devil knows what he means. It makes me angry to hear him talk so, but he is soured by his troubles. Just imagine-the general keeps hismother-but she lends him money! She lends it for a week or ten daysat very high interest! Isn't it disgusting? And then, you would hardlybelieve it, but my mother--Nina Alexandrovna--helps Hippolyte in allsorts of ways, sends him money and clothes. She even goes as far ashelping the children, through Hippolyte, because their mother caresnothing about them, and Varia does the same. "

"Well, just now you said there were no honest nor good people about, that there were only money-grubbers--and here they are quite close athand, these honest and good people, your mother and Varia! I thinkthere is a good deal of moral strength in helping people in suchcircumstances. "

"Varia does it from pride, and likes showing off, and giving herselfairs. As to my mother, I really do admire her--yes, and honour her. Hippolyte, hardened as he is, feels it. He laughed at first, and thoughtit vulgar of her--but now, he is sometimes quite touched and overcome byher kindness. H'm! You call that being strong and good? I will rememberthat! Gania knows nothing about it. He would say that it was encouragingvice. "

"Ah, Gania knows nothing about it? It seems there are many things thatGania does not know, " exclaimed the prince, as he considered Colia'slast words. 

"Do you know, I like you very much indeed, prince? I shall never forgetabout this afternoon. "

"I like you too, Colia. "

"Listen to me! You are going to live here, are you not?" said Colia. "I mean to get something to do directly, and earn money. Then shall wethree live together? You, and I, and Hippolyte? We will hire a flat, andlet the general come and visit us. What do you say?"

"It would be very pleasant, " returned the prince. "But we must see. I amreally rather worried just now. What! are we there already? Is that thehouse? What a long flight of steps! And there's a porter! Well, Colia Idon't know what will come of it all. "

The prince seemed quite distracted for the moment. 

"You must tell me all about it tomorrow! Don't be afraid. I wish yousuccess; we agree so entirely I that can do so, although I do notunderstand why you are here. Good-bye!" cried Colia excitedly. "Now Iwill rush back and tell Hippolyte all about our plans and proposals! Butas to your getting in--don't be in the least afraid. You will see her. She is so original about everything. It's the first floor. The porterwill show you. "

XIII. 

THE prince was very nervous as he reached the outer door; but he did hisbest to encourage himself with the reflection that the worst thing thatcould happen to him would be that he would not be received, or, perhaps, received, then laughed at for coming. 

But there was another question, which terrified him considerably, and that was: what was he going to do when he DID get in? And to thisquestion he could fashion no satisfactory reply. 

If only he could find an opportunity of coming close up to NastasiaPhilipovna and saying to her: "Don't ruin yourself by marrying this man. He does not love you, he only loves your money. He told me so himself, and so did Aglaya Ivanovna, and I have come on purpose to warn you"--buteven that did not seem quite a legitimate or practicable thing to do. Then, again, there was another delicate question, to which he could notfind an answer; dared not, in fact, think of it; but at the very ideaof which he trembled and blushed. However, in spite of all his fears andheart-quakings he went in, and asked for Nastasia Philipovna. 

Nastasia occupied a medium-sized, but distinctly tasteful, flat, beautifully furnished and arranged. At one period of these five yearsof Petersburg life, Totski had certainly not spared his expenditure uponher. He had calculated upon her eventual love, and tried to tempt herwith a lavish outlay upon comforts and luxuries, knowing too well howeasily the heart accustoms itself to comforts, and how difficult it isto tear one's self away from luxuries which have become habitual and, little by little, indispensable. 

Nastasia did not reject all this, she even loved her comforts andluxuries, but, strangely enough, never became, in the least degree, dependent upon them, and always gave the impression that she could dojust as well without them. In fact, she went so far as to inform Totskion several occasions that such was the case, which the latter gentlemanconsidered a very unpleasant communication indeed. 

But, of late, Totski had observed many strange and original featuresand characteristics in Nastasia, which he had neither known nor reckonedupon in former times, and some of these fascinated him, even now, inspite of the fact that all his old calculations with regard to her werelong ago cast to the winds. 

A maid opened the door for the prince (Nastasia's servants were allfemales) and, to his surprise, received his request to announce him toher mistress without any astonishment. Neither his dirty boots, nor hiswide-brimmed hat, nor his sleeveless cloak, nor his evident confusion ofmanner, produced the least impression upon her. She helped him off withhis cloak, and begged him to wait a moment in the ante-room while sheannounced him. 

The company assembled at Nastasia Philipovna's consisted of none but hermost intimate friends, and formed a very small party in comparison withher usual gatherings on this anniversary. 

In the first place there were present Totski, and General Epanchin. They were both highly amiable, but both appeared to be labouring undera half-hidden feeling of anxiety as to the result of Nastasia'sdeliberations with regard to Gania, which result was to be made publicthis evening. 

Then, of course, there was Gania who was by no means so amiable ashis elders, but stood apart, gloomy, and miserable, and silent. He haddetermined not to bring Varia with him; but Nastasia had not even askedafter her, though no sooner had he arrived than she had reminded him ofthe episode between himself and the prince. The general, who had heardnothing of it before, began to listen with some interest, while Gania, drily, but with perfect candour, went through the whole history, including the fact of his apology to the prince. He finished bydeclaring that the prince was a most extraordinary man, and goodnessknows why he had been considered an idiot hitherto, for he was very farfrom being one. 

Nastasia listened to all this with great interest; but the conversationsoon turned to Rogojin and his visit, and this theme proved of thegreatest attraction to both Totski and the general. 

Ptitsin was able to afford some particulars as to Rogojin's conductsince the afternoon. He declared that he had been busy finding money forthe latter ever since, and up to nine o'clock, Rogojin having declaredthat he must absolutely have a hundred thousand roubles by the evening. He added that Rogojin was drunk, of course; but that he thought themoney would be forthcoming, for the excited and intoxicated rapture ofthe fellow impelled him to give any interest or premium that was askedof him, and there were several others engaged in beating up the money, also. 

All this news was received by the company with somewhat gloomy interest. Nastasia was silent, and would not say what she thought about it. Ganiawas equally uncommunicative. The general seemed the most anxious of all, and decidedly uneasy. The present of pearls which he had prepared withso much joy in the morning had been accepted but coldly, and Nastasiahad smiled rather disagreeably as she took it from him. Ferdishenko wasthe only person present in good spirits. 

Totski himself, who had the reputation of being a capital talker, andwas usually the life and soul of these entertainments, was as silentas any on this occasion, and sat in a state of, for him, most uncommonperturbation. 

The rest of the guests (an old tutor or schoolmaster, goodness knowswhy invited; a young man, very timid, and shy and silent; a ratherloud woman of about forty, apparently an actress; and a very pretty, well-dressed German lady who hardly said a word all the evening) notonly had no gift for enlivening the proceedings, but hardly knew what tosay for themselves when addressed. Under these circumstances the arrivalof the prince came almost as a godsend. 

The announcement of his name gave rise to some surprise and to somesmiles, especially when it became evident, from Nastasia's astonishedlook, that she had not thought of inviting him. But her astonishmentonce over, Nastasia showed such satisfaction that all prepared to greetthe prince with cordial smiles of welcome. 

"Of course, " remarked General Epanchin, "he does this out of pureinnocence. It's a little dangerous, perhaps, to encourage this sort offreedom; but it is rather a good thing that he has arrived just at thismoment. He may enliven us a little with his originalities. "

"Especially as he asked himself, " said Ferdishenko. 

"What's that got to do with it?" asked the general, who loathedFerdishenko. 

"Why, he must pay toll for his entrance, " explained the latter. 

"H'm! Prince Muishkin is not Ferdishenko, " said the general, impatiently. This worthy gentleman could never quite reconcile himselfto the idea of meeting Ferdishenko in society, and on an equal footing. 

"Oh general, spare Ferdishenko!" replied the other, smiling. "I havespecial privileges. "

"What do you mean by special privileges?"

"Once before I had the honour of stating them to the company. I willrepeat the explanation to-day for your excellency's benefit. You see, excellency, all the world is witty and clever except myself. I amneither. As a kind of compensation I am allowed to tell the truth, forit is a well-known fact that only stupid people tell 'the truth. Addedto this, I am a spiteful man, just because I am not clever. If I amoffended or injured I bear it quite patiently until the man injuringme meets with some misfortune. Then I remember, and take my revenge. Ireturn the injury sevenfold, as Ivan Petrovitch Ptitsin says. (Of coursehe never does so himself. ) Excellency, no doubt you recollect Kryloff'sfable, 'The Lion and the Ass'? Well now, that's you and I. That fablewas written precisely for us. "

"You seem to be talking nonsense again, Ferdishenko, " growled thegeneral. 

"What is the matter, excellency? I know how to keep my place. When Isaid just now that we, you and I, were the lion and the ass of Kryloff'sfable, of course it is understood that I take the role of the ass. Yourexcellency is the lion of which the fable remarks:

'A mighty lion, terror of the woods, Was shorn of his great prowess byold age. '

And I, your excellency, am the ass. "

"I am of your opinion on that last point, " said Ivan Fedorovitch, withill-concealed irritation. 

All this was no doubt extremely coarse, and moreover it waspremeditated, but after all Ferdishenko had persuaded everyone to accepthim as a buffoon. 

"If I am admitted and tolerated here, " he had said one day, "it issimply because I talk in this way. How can anyone possibly receivesuch a man as I am? I quite understand. Now, could I, a Ferdishenko, be allowed to sit shoulder to shoulder with a clever man like AfanasyIvanovitch? There is one explanation, only one. I am given the positionbecause it is so entirely inconceivable!"

But these vulgarities seemed to please Nastasia Philipovna, although toooften they were both rude and offensive. Those who wished to go to herhouse were forced to put up with Ferdishenko. Possibly the latter wasnot mistaken in imagining that he was received simply in order to annoyTotski, who disliked him extremely. Gania also was often made the buttof the jester's sarcasms, who used this method of keeping in NastasiaPhilipovna's good graces. 

"The prince will begin by singing us a fashionable ditty, " remarkedFerdishenko, and looked at the mistress of the house, to see what shewould say. 

"I don't think so, Ferdishenko; please be quiet, " answered NastasiaPhilipovna dryly. 

"A-ah! if he is to be under special patronage, I withdraw my claws. "

But Nastasia Philipovna had now risen and advanced to meet the prince. 

"I was so sorry to have forgotten to ask you to come, when I saw you, "she said, "and I am delighted to be able to thank you personally now, and to express my pleasure at your resolution. "

So saying she gazed into his eyes, longing to see whether she could makeany guess as to the explanation of his motive in coming to her house. The prince would very likely have made some reply to her kind words, buthe was so dazzled by her appearance that he could not speak. 

Nastasia noticed this with satisfaction. She was in full dress thisevening; and her appearance was certainly calculated to impress allbeholders. She took his hand and led him towards her other guests. Butjust before they reached the drawing-room door, the prince stopped her, and hurriedly and in great agitation whispered to her:

"You are altogether perfection; even your pallor and thinness areperfect; one could not wish you otherwise. I did so wish to come and seeyou. I--forgive me, please--"

"Don't apologize, " said Nastasia, laughing; "you spoil the wholeoriginality of the thing. I think what they say about you must be true, that you are so original. --So you think me perfection, do you?"

"Yes. "

"H'm! Well, you may be a good reader of riddles but you are wrong THERE, at all events. I'll remind you of this, tonight. "

Nastasia introduced the prince to her guests, to most of whom he wasalready known. 

Totski immediately made some amiable remark. Al seemed to brighten up atonce, and the conversation became general. Nastasia made the prince sitdown next to herself. 

"Dear me, there's nothing so very curious about the prince dropping in, after all, " remarked Ferdishenko. 

"It's quite a clear case, " said the hitherto silent Gania. "I havewatched the prince almost all day, ever since the moment when he firstsaw Nastasia Philipovna's portrait, at General Epanchin's. I rememberthinking at the time what I am now pretty sure of; and what, I may sayin passing, the prince confessed to myself. "

Gania said all this perfectly seriously, and without the slightestappearance of joking; indeed, he seemed strangely gloomy. 

"I did not confess anything to you, " said the prince, blushing. "I onlyanswered your question. "

"Bravo! That's frank, at any rate!" shouted Ferdishenko, and there wasgeneral laughter. 

"Oh prince, prince! I never should have thought it of you;" said GeneralEpanchin. "And I imagined you a philosopher! Oh, you silent fellows!"

"Judging from the fact that the prince blushed at this innocent joke, like a young girl, I should think that he must, as an honourable man, harbour the noblest intentions, " said the old toothless schoolmaster, most unexpectedly; he had not so much as opened his mouth before. This remark provoked general mirth, and the old fellow himself laughedloudest of the lot, but ended with a stupendous fit of coughing. 

Nastasia Philipovna, who loved originality and drollery of all kinds, was apparently very fond of this old man, and rang the bell for more teato stop his coughing. It was now half-past ten o'clock. 

"Gentlemen, wouldn't you like a little champagne now?" she asked. "Ihave it all ready; it will cheer us up--do now--no ceremony!"

This invitation to drink, couched, as it was, in such informal terms, came very strangely from Nastasia Philipovna. Her usual entertainmentswere not quite like this; there was more style about them. However, thewine was not refused; each guest took a glass excepting Gania, who dranknothing. 

It was extremely difficult to account for Nastasia's strange conditionof mind, which became more evident each moment, and which none couldavoid noticing. 

She took her glass, and vowed she would empty it three times thatevening. She was hysterical, and laughed aloud every other minutewith no apparent reason--the next moment relapsing into gloom andthoughtfulness. 

Some of her guests suspected that she must be ill; but concluded at lastthat she was expecting something, for she continued to look at her watchimpatiently and unceasingly; she was most absent and strange. 

"You seem to be a little feverish tonight, " said the actress. 

"Yes; I feel quite ill. I have been obliged to put on this shawl--I feelso cold, " replied Nastasia. She certainly had grown very pale, and everynow and then she tried to suppress a trembling in her limbs. 

"Had we not better allow our hostess to retire?" asked Totski of thegeneral. 

"Not at all, gentlemen, not at all! Your presence is absolutelynecessary to me tonight, " said Nastasia, significantly. 

As most of those present were aware that this evening a certain veryimportant decision was to be taken, these words of Nastasia Philipovna'sappeared to be fraught with much hidden interest. The general and Totskiexchanged looks; Gania fidgeted convulsively in his chair. 

"Let's play at some game!" suggested the actress. 

"I know a new and most delightful game, added Ferdishenko. 

"What is it?" asked the actress. 

"Well, when we tried it we were a party of people, like this, forinstance; and somebody proposed that each of us, without leaving hisplace at the table, should relate something about himself. It had to besomething that he really and honestly considered the very worst actionhe had ever committed in his life. But he was to be honest--that was thechief point! He wasn't to be allowed to lie. "

"What an extraordinary idea!" said the general. 

"That's the beauty of it, general!"

"It's a funny notion, " said Totski, "and yet quite natural--it's only anew way of boasting. "

"Perhaps that is just what was so fascinating about it. "

"Why, it would be a game to cry over--not to laugh at!" said theactress. 

"Did it succeed?" asked Nastasia Philipovna. "Come, let's try it, let'stry it; we really are not quite so jolly as we might be--let's try it!We may like it; it's original, at all events!"

"Yes, " said Ferdishenko; "it's a good idea--come along--the men begin. Of course no one need tell a story if he prefers to be disobliging. Wemust draw lots! Throw your slips of paper, gentlemen, into this hat, andthe prince shall draw for turns. It's a very simple game; all you haveto do is to tell the story of the worst action of your life. It's assimple as anything. I'll prompt anyone who forgets the rules!"

No one liked the idea much. Some smiled, some frowned some objected, but faintly, not wishing to oppose Nastasia's wishes; for this new ideaseemed to be rather well received by her. She was still in an excited, hysterical state, laughing convulsively at nothing and everything. Hereyes were blazing, and her cheeks showed two bright red spots againstthe white. The melancholy appearance of some of her guests seemed to addto her sarcastic humour, and perhaps the very cynicism and cruelty ofthe game proposed by Ferdishenko pleased her. At all events she wasattracted by the idea, and gradually her guests came round to her side;the thing was original, at least, and might turn out to be amusing. "Andsupposing it's something that one--one can't speak about before ladies?"asked the timid and silent young man. 

"Why, then of course, you won't say anything about it. As if thereare not plenty of sins to your score without the need of those!" saidFerdishenko. 

"But I really don't know which of my actions is the worst, " said thelively actress. 

"Ladies are exempted if they like. "

"And how are you to know that one isn't lying? And if one lies the wholepoint of the game is lost, " said Gania. 

"Oh, but think how delightful to hear how one's friends lie! Besidesyou needn't be afraid, Gania; everybody knows what your worst action iswithout the need of any lying on your part. Only think, gentlemen, "--andFerdishenko here grew quite enthusiastic, "only think with what eyes weshall observe one another tomorrow, after our tales have been told!"

"But surely this is a joke, Nastasia Philipovna?" asked Totski. "Youdon't really mean us to play this game. "

"Whoever is afraid of wolves had better not go into the wood, " saidNastasia, smiling. 

"But, pardon me, Mr. Ferdishenko, is it possible to make a game out ofthis kind of thing?" persisted Totski, growing more and more uneasy. "Iassure you it can't be a success. "

"And why not? Why, the last time I simply told straight off about how Istole three roubles. "

"Perhaps so; but it is hardly possible that you told it so that itseemed like truth, or so that you were believed. And, as GavrilaArdalionovitch has said, the least suggestion of a falsehood takes allpoint out of the game. It seems to me that sincerity, on the other hand, is only possible if combined with a kind of bad taste that would beutterly out of place here. "

"How subtle you are, Afanasy Ivanovitch! You astonish me, " criedFerdishenko. "You will remark, gentleman, that in saying that Icould not recount the story of my theft so as to be believed, AfanasyIvanovitch has very ingeniously implied that I am not capable ofthieving--(it would have been bad taste to say so openly); and all thetime he is probably firmly convinced, in his own mind, that I am verywell capable of it! But now, gentlemen, to business! Put in your slips, ladies and gentlemen--is yours in, Mr. Totski? So--then we are allready; now prince, draw, please. " The prince silently put his hand intothe hat, and drew the names. Ferdishenko was first, then Ptitsin, thenthe general, Totski next, his own fifth, then Gania, and so on; theladies did not draw. 

"Oh, dear! oh, dear!" cried Ferdishenko. "I did so hope the prince wouldcome out first, and then the general. Well, gentlemen, I suppose Imust set a good example! What vexes me much is that I am such aninsignificant creature that it matters nothing to anybody whether I havedone bad actions or not! Besides, which am I to choose? It's an embarrasde richesse. Shall I tell how I became a thief on one occasion only, toconvince Afanasy Ivanovitch that it is possible to steal without being athief?"

"Do go on, Ferdishenko, and don't make unnecessary preface, or you'llnever finish, " said Nastasia Philipovna. All observed how irritable andcross she had become since her last burst of laughter; but none the lessobstinately did she stick to her absurd whim about this new game. Totskisat looking miserable enough. The general lingered over his champagne, and seemed to be thinking of some story for the time when his turnshould come. 

XIV. 

"I have no wit, Nastasia Philipovna, " began Ferdishenko, "and thereforeI talk too much, perhaps. Were I as witty, now, as Mr. Totski or thegeneral, I should probably have sat silent all the evening, as theyhave. Now, prince, what do you think?--are there not far more thievesthan honest men in this world? Don't you think we may say there doesnot exist a single person so honest that he has never stolen anythingwhatever in his life?"

"What a silly idea, " said the actress. "Of course it is not the case. Ihave never stolen anything, for one. "

"H'm! very well, Daria Alexeyevna; you have not stolen anything--agreed. But how about the prince, now--look how he is blushing!"

"I think you are partially right, but you exaggerate, " said the prince, who had certainly blushed up, of a sudden, for some reason or other. 

"Ferdishenko--either tell us your story, or be quiet, and mind your ownbusiness. You exhaust all patience, " cuttingly and irritably remarkedNastasia Philipovna. 

"Immediately, immediately! As for my story, gentlemen, it is too stupidand absurd to tell you. 

"I assure you I am not a thief, and yet I have stolen; I cannot explainwhy. It was at Semeon Ivanovitch Ishenka's country house, one Sunday. Hehad a dinner party. After dinner the men stayed at the table over theirwine. It struck me to ask the daughter of the house to play somethingon the piano; so I passed through the corner room to join the ladies. Inthat room, on Maria Ivanovna's writing-table, I observed a three-roublenote. She must have taken it out for some purpose, and left it lyingthere. There was no one about. I took up the note and put it in mypocket; why, I can't say. I don't know what possessed me to do it, butit was done, and I went quickly back to the dining-room and reseatedmyself at the dinner-table. I sat and waited there in a great state ofexcitement. I talked hard, and told lots of stories, and laughed likemad; then I joined the ladies. 

"In half an hour or so the loss was discovered, and the servants werebeing put under examination. Daria, the housemaid was suspected. Iexhibited the greatest interest and sympathy, and I remember thatpoor Daria quite lost her head, and that I began assuring her, beforeeveryone, that I would guarantee her forgiveness on the part of hermistress, if she would confess her guilt. They all stared at the girl, and I remember a wonderful attraction in the reflection that here was Isermonizing away, with the money in my own pocket all the while. I wentand spent the three roubles that very evening at a restaurant. I went inand asked for a bottle of Lafite, and drank it up; I wanted to be rid ofthe money. 

"I did not feel much remorse either then or afterwards; but I would notrepeat the performance--believe it or not as you please. There--that'sall. "

"Only, of course that's not nearly your worst action, " said the actress, with evident dislike in her face. 

"That was a psychological phenomenon, not an action, " remarked Totski. 

"And what about the maid?" asked Nastasia Philipovna, with undisguisedcontempt. 

"Oh, she was turned out next day, of course. It's a very stricthousehold, there!"

"And you allowed it?"

"I should think so, rather! I was not going to return and confessnext day, " laughed Ferdishenko, who seemed a little surprised at thedisagreeable impression which his story had made on all parties. 

"How mean you were!" said Nastasia. 

"Bah! you wish to hear a man tell of his worst actions, and you expectthe story to come out goody-goody! One's worst actions always are mean. We shall see what the general has to say for himself now. All is notgold that glitters, you know; and because a man keeps his carriage heneed not be specially virtuous, I assure you, all sorts of people keepcarriages. And by what means?"

In a word, Ferdishenko was very angry and rapidly forgetting himself;his whole face was drawn with passion. Strange as it may appear, he hadexpected much better success for his story. These little errors of tasteon Ferdishenko's part occurred very frequently. Nastasia trembled withrage, and looked fixedly at him, whereupon he relapsed into alarmedsilence. He realized that he had gone a little too far. 

"Had we not better end this game?" asked Totski. 

"It's my turn, but I plead exemption, " said Ptitsin. 

"You don't care to oblige us?" asked Nastasia. 

"I cannot, I assure you. I confess I do not understand how anyone canplay this game. "

"Then, general, it's your turn, " continued Nastasia Philipovna, "and ifyou refuse, the whole game will fall through, which will disappoint mevery much, for I was looking forward to relating a certain 'page of myown life. ' I am only waiting for you and Afanasy Ivanovitch to have yourturns, for I require the support of your example, " she added, smiling. 

"Oh, if you put it in that way, " cried the general, excitedly, "I'mready to tell the whole story of my life, but I must confess that Iprepared a little story in anticipation of my turn. "

Nastasia smiled amiably at him; but evidently her depression andirritability were increasing with every moment. Totski was dreadfullyalarmed to hear her promise a revelation out of her own life. 

"I, like everyone else, " began the general, "have committed certain notaltogether graceful actions, so to speak, during the course of my life. But the strangest thing of all in my case is, that I should consider thelittle anecdote which I am now about to give you as a confession ofthe worst of my 'bad actions. ' It is thirty-five years since it allhappened, and yet I cannot to this very day recall the circumstanceswithout, as it were, a sudden pang at the heart. 

"It was a silly affair--I was an ensign at the time. You knowensigns--their blood is boiling water, their circumstances generallypenurious. Well, I had a servant Nikifor who used to do everything forme in my quarters, economized and managed for me, and even laid hands onanything he could find (belonging to other people), in order to augmentour household goods; but a faithful, honest fellow all the same. 

"I was strict, but just by nature. At that time we were stationed ina small town. I was quartered at an old widow's house, a lieutenant'swidow of eighty years of age. She lived in a wretched little woodenhouse, and had not even a servant, so poor was she. 

"Her relations had all died off--her husband was dead and buried fortyyears since; and a niece, who had lived with her and bullied her up tothree years ago, was dead too; so that she was quite alone. 

"Well, I was precious dull with her, especially as she was so childishthat there was nothing to be got out of her. Eventually, she stole afowl of mine; the business is a mystery to this day; but it could havebeen no one but herself. I requested to be quartered somewhere else, and was shifted to the other end of the town, to the house of a merchantwith a large family, and a long beard, as I remember him. Nikifor and Iwere delighted to go; but the old lady was not pleased at our departure. 

"Well, a day or two afterwards, when I returned from drill, Nikiforsays to me: 'We oughtn't to have left our tureen with the old lady, I'venothing to serve the soup in. '

"I asked how it came about that the tureen had been left. Nikiforexplained that the old lady refused to give it up, because, she said, we had broken her bowl, and she must have our tureen in place of it; shehad declared that I had so arranged the matter with herself. 

"This baseness on her part of course aroused my young blood to feverheat; I jumped up, and away I flew. 

"I arrived at the old woman's house beside myself. She was sitting ina corner all alone, leaning her face on her hand. I fell on her like aclap of thunder. 'You old wretch!' I yelled and all that sort of thing, in real Russian style. Well, when I began cursing at her, a strangething happened. I looked at her, and she stared back with her eyesstarting out of her head, but she did not say a word. She seemed tosway about as she sat, and looked and looked at me in the strangestway. Well, I soon stopped swearing and looked closer at her, asked herquestions, but not a word could I get out of her. The flies were buzzingabout the room and only this sound broke the silence; the sun wassetting outside; I didn't know what to make of it, so I went away. 

"Before I reached home I was met and summoned to the major's, so that itwas some while before I actually got there. When I came in, Nikifor metme. 'Have you heard, sir, that our old lady is dead?' 'DEAD, when?' 'Oh, an hour and a half ago. ' That meant nothing more nor less than that shewas dying at the moment when I pounced on her and began abusing her. 

"This produced a great effect upon me. I used to dream of the poor oldwoman at nights. I really am not superstitious, but two days after, Iwent to her funeral, and as time went on I thought more and more abouther. I said to myself, 'This woman, this human being, lived to a greatage. She had children, a husband and family, friends and relations; herhousehold was busy and cheerful; she was surrounded by smiling faces;and then suddenly they are gone, and she is left alone like a solitaryfly. . . Like a fly, cursed with the burden of her age. At last, God callsher to Himself. At sunset, on a lovely summer's evening, my little oldwoman passes away--a thought, you will notice, which offers much foodfor reflection--and behold! instead of tears and prayers to start heron her last journey, she has insults and jeers from a young ensign, whostands before her with his hands in his pockets, making a terrible rowabout a soup tureen!' Of course I was to blame, and even now that I havetime to look back at it calmly, I pity the poor old thing no less. I repeat that I wonder at myself, for after all I was not reallyresponsible. Why did she take it into her head to die at that moment?But the more I thought of it, the more I felt the weight of it upon mymind; and I never got quite rid of the impression until I put a coupleof old women into an almshouse and kept them there at my own expense. There, that's all. I repeat I dare say I have committed many a grievoussin in my day; but I cannot help always looking back upon this as theworst action I have ever perpetrated. "

"H'm! and instead of a bad action, your excellency has detailed one ofyour noblest deeds, " said Ferdishenko. "Ferdishenko is 'done. '"

"Dear me, general, " said Nastasia Philipovna, absently, "I really neverimagined you had such a good heart. "

The general laughed with great satisfaction, and applied himself oncemore to the champagne. 

It was now Totski's turn, and his story was awaited with greatcuriosity--while all eyes turned on Nastasia Philipovna, as thoughanticipating that his revelation must be connected somehow with her. Nastasia, during the whole of his story, pulled at the lace trimming ofher sleeve, and never once glanced at the speaker. Totski was a handsomeman, rather stout, with a very polite and dignified manner. He wasalways well dressed, and his linen was exquisite. He had plump whitehands, and wore a magnificent diamond ring on one finger. 

"What simplifies the duty before me considerably, in my opinion, " hebegan, "is that I am bound to recall and relate the very worst action ofmy life. In such circumstances there can, of course, be no doubt. One'sconscience very soon informs one what is the proper narrative to tell. Iadmit, that among the many silly and thoughtless actions of my life, thememory of one comes prominently forward and reminds me that it lay longlike a stone on my heart. Some twenty years since, I paid a visit toPlaton Ordintzeff at his country-house. He had just been elected marshalof the nobility, and had come there with his young wife for the winterholidays. Anfisa Alexeyevna's birthday came off just then, too, andthere were two balls arranged. At that time Dumas-fils' beautiful work, La Dame aux Camelias--a novel which I consider imperishable--had justcome into fashion. In the provinces all the ladies were in raptures overit, those who had read it, at least. Camellias were all the fashion. Everyone inquired for them, everybody wanted them; and a grand lot ofcamellias are to be got in a country town--as you all know--and twoballs to provide for!

"Poor Peter Volhofskoi was desperately in love with Anfisa Alexeyevna. I don't know whether there was anything--I mean I don't know whetherhe could possibly have indulged in any hope. The poor fellow was besidehimself to get her a bouquet of camellias. Countess Sotski and SophiaBespalova, as everyone knew, were coming with white camellia bouquets. Anfisa wished for red ones, for effect. Well, her husband Platon wasdriven desperate to find some. And the day before the ball, Anfisa'srival snapped up the only red camellias to be had in the place, fromunder Platon's nose, and Platon--wretched man--was done for. Now ifPeter had only been able to step in at this moment with a red bouquet, his little hopes might have made gigantic strides. A woman's gratitudeunder such circumstances would have been boundless--but it waspractically an impossibility. 

"The night before the ball I met Peter, looking radiant. 'What is it?'I ask. 'I've found them, Eureka!" 'No! where, where?' 'At Ekshaisk (alittle town fifteen miles off) there's a rich old merchant, who keepsa lot of canaries, has no children, and he and his wife are devoted toflowers. He's got some camellias. ' 'And what if he won't let you havethem?' 'I'll go on my knees and implore till I get them. I won't goaway. ' 'When shall you start?' 'Tomorrow morning at five o'clock. ' 'Goon, ' I said, 'and good luck to you. '

"I was glad for the poor fellow, and went home. But an idea got hold ofme somehow. I don't know how. It was nearly two in the morning. I rangthe bell and ordered the coachman to be waked up and sent to me. Hecame. I gave him a tip of fifteen roubles, and told him to get thecarriage ready at once. In half an hour it was at the door. I got in andoff we went. 

"By five I drew up at the Ekshaisky inn. I waited there till dawn, andsoon after six I was off, and at the old merchant Trepalaf's. 

"'Camellias!' I said, 'father, save me, save me, let me have somecamellias!' He was a tall, grey old man--a terrible-looking oldgentleman. 'Not a bit of it, ' he says. 'I won't. ' Down I went on myknees. 'Don't say so, don't--think what you're doing!' I cried; 'it's amatter of life and death!' 'If that's the case, take them, ' says he. So up I get, and cut such a bouquet of red camellias! He had a wholegreenhouse full of them--lovely ones. The old fellow sighs. I pull out ahundred roubles. 'No, no!' says he, 'don't insult me that way. ' 'Oh, ifthat's the case, give it to the village hospital, ' I say. 'Ah, ' he says, 'that's quite a different matter; that's good of you and generous. I'llpay it in there for you with pleasure. ' I liked that old fellow, Russianto the core, de la vraie souche. I went home in raptures, but tookanother road in order to avoid Peter. Immediately on arriving I sent upthe bouquet for Anfisa to see when she awoke. 

"You may imagine her ecstasy, her gratitude. The wretched Platon, whohad almost died since yesterday of the reproaches showered upon him, wept on my shoulder. Of course poor Peter had no chance after this. 

"I thought he would cut my throat at first, and went about armed readyto meet him. But he took it differently; he fainted, and had brain feverand convulsions. A month after, when he had hardly recovered, he wentoff to the Crimea, and there he was shot. 

"I assure you this business left me no peace for many a long year. Whydid I do it? I was not in love with her myself; I'm afraid it was simplymischief--pure 'cussedness' on my part. 

"If I hadn't seized that bouquet from under his nose he might have beenalive now, and a happy man. He might have been successful in life, andnever have gone to fight the Turks. "

Totski ended his tale with the same dignity that had characterized itscommencement. 

Nastasia Philipovna's eyes were flashing in a most unmistakable way, now; and her lips were all a-quiver by the time Totski finished hisstory. 

All present watched both of them with curiosity. 

"You were right, Totski, " said Nastasia, "it is a dull game and a stupidone. I'll just tell my story, as I promised, and then we'll play cards. "

"Yes, but let's have the story first!" cried the general. 

"Prince, " said Nastasia Philipovna, unexpectedly turning to Muishkin, "here are my old friends, Totski and General Epanchin, who wish to marryme off. Tell me what you think. Shall I marry or not? As you decide, soshall it be. "

Totski grew white as a sheet. The general was struck dumb. All presentstarted and listened intently. Gania sat rooted to his chair. 

"Marry whom?" asked the prince, faintly. 

"Gavrila Ardalionovitch Ivolgin, " said Nastasia, firmly and evenly. 

There were a few seconds of dead silence. 

The prince tried to speak, but could not form his words; a great weightseemed to lie upon his breast and suffocate him. 

"N-no! don't marry him!" he whispered at last, drawing his breath withan effort. 

"So be it, then. Gavrila Ardalionovitch, " she spoke solemnly andforcibly, "you hear the prince's decision? Take it as my decision; andlet that be the end of the matter for good and all. "

"Nastasia Philipovna!" cried Totski, in a quaking voice. 

"Nastasia Philipovna!" said the general, in persuasive but agitatedtones. 

Everyone in the room fidgeted in their places, and waited to see whatwas coming next. 

"Well, gentlemen!" she continued, gazing around in apparentastonishment; "what do you all look so alarmed about? Why are you soupset?"

"But--recollect, Nastasia Philipovna. " stammered Totski, "you gave apromise, quite a free one, and--and you might have spared us this. I amconfused and bewildered, I know; but, in a word, at such a moment, andbefore company, and all so-so-irregular, finishing off a game with aserious matter like this, a matter of honour, and of heart, and--"

"I don't follow you, Afanasy Ivanovitch; you are losing your head. Inthe first place, what do you mean by 'before company'? Isn't the companygood enough for you? And what's all that about 'a game'? I wished totell my little story, and I told it! Don't you like it? You heard whatI said to the prince? 'As you decide, so it shall be!' If he had said'yes, ' I should have given my consent! But he said 'no, ' so I refused. Here was my whole life hanging on his one word! Surely I was seriousenough?"

"The prince! What on earth has the prince got to do with it? Who thedeuce is the prince?" cried the general, who could conceal his wrath nolonger. 

"The prince has this to do with it--that I see in him for the firsttime in all my life, a man endowed with real truthfulness of spirit, andI trust him. He trusted me at first sight, and I trust him!"

"It only remains for me, then, to thank Nastasia Philipovna for thegreat delicacy with which she has treated me, " said Gania, as pale asdeath, and with quivering lips. "That is my plain duty, of course; butthe prince--what has he to do in the matter?"

"I see what you are driving at, " said Nastasia Philipovna. "You implythat the prince is after the seventy-five thousand roubles--I quiteunderstand you. Mr. Totski, I forgot to say, 'Take your seventy-fivethousand roubles'--I don't want them. I let you go free for nothing takeyour freedom! You must need it. Nine years and three months' captivityis enough for anybody. Tomorrow I shall start afresh--today I am a freeagent for the first time in my life. 

"General, you must take your pearls back, too--give them to yourwife--here they are! Tomorrow I shall leave this flat altogether, andthen there'll be no more of these pleasant little social gatherings, ladies and gentlemen. "

So saying, she scornfully rose from her seat as though to depart. 

"Nastasia Philipovna! Nastasia Philipovna!"

The words burst involuntarily from every mouth. All present started upin bewildered excitement; all surrounded her; all had listened uneasilyto her wild, disconnected sentences. All felt that something hadhappened, something had gone very far wrong indeed, but no one couldmake head or tail of the matter. 

At this moment there was a furious ring at the bell, and a great knockat the door--exactly similar to the one which had startled the companyat Gania's house in the afternoon. 

"Ah, ah! here's the climax at last, at half-past twelve!" cried NastasiaPhilipovna. "Sit down, gentlemen, I beg you. Something is about tohappen. "

So saying, she reseated herself; a strange smile played on her lips. Shesat quite still, but watched the door in a fever of impatience. 

"Rogojin and his hundred thousand roubles, no doubt of it, " mutteredPtitsin to himself. 

XV. 

Katia, the maid-servant, made her appearance, terribly frightened. 

"Goodness knows what it means, ma'am, " she said. "There is a wholecollection of men come--all tipsy--and want to see you. They say that'it's Rogojin, and she knows all about it. '"

"It's all right, Katia, let them all in at once. "

"Surely not ALL, ma'am? They seem so disorderly--it's dreadful to seethem. "

"Yes ALL, Katia, all--every one of them. Let them in, or they'll comein whether you like or no. Listen! what a noise they are making! Perhapsyou are offended, gentlemen, that I should receive such guests in yourpresence? I am very sorry, and ask your forgiveness, but it cannot behelped--and I should be very grateful if you could all stay and witnessthis climax. However, just as you please, of course. "

The guests exchanged glances; they were annoyed and bewildered by theepisode; but it was clear enough that all this had been pre-arranged andexpected by Nastasia Philipovna, and that there was no use in trying tostop her now--for she was little short of insane. 

Besides, they were naturally inquisitive to see what was to happen. There was nobody who would be likely to feel much alarm. There werebut two ladies present; one of whom was the lively actress, who was noteasily frightened, and the other the silent German beauty who, it turnedout, did not understand a word of Russian, and seemed to be as stupid asshe was lovely. 

Her acquaintances invited her to their "At Homes" because she was sodecorative. She was exhibited to their guests like a valuable picture, or vase, or statue, or firescreen. As for the men, Ptitsin was one ofRogojin's friends; Ferdishenko was as much at home as a fish in the sea, Gania, not yet recovered from his amazement, appeared to be chained toa pillory. The old professor did not in the least understand what washappening; but when he noticed how extremely agitated the mistress ofthe house, and her friends, seemed, he nearly wept, and trembled withfright: but he would rather have died than leave Nastasia Philipovna atsuch a crisis, for he loved her as if she were his own granddaughter. Afanasy Ivanovitch greatly disliked having anything to do with theaffair, but he was too much interested to leave, in spite of the madturn things had taken; and a few words that had dropped from the lipsof Nastasia puzzled him so much, that he felt he could not go withoutan explanation. He resolved therefore, to see it out, and to adopt theattitude of silent spectator, as most suited to his dignity. GeneraEpanchin alone determined to depart. He was annoyed at the manner inwhich his gift had been returned, an though he had condescended, underthe influence of passion, to place himself on a level with Ptitsin andFerdishenko, his self-respect and sense of duty now returned togetherwith a consciousness of what was due to his social rank and officialimportance. In short, he plainly showed his conviction that a man in hisposition could have nothing to do with Rogojin and his companions. ButNastasia interrupted him at his first words. 

"Ah, general!" she cried, "I was forgetting! If I had only foreseenthis unpleasantness! I won't insist on keeping you against your will, although I should have liked you to be beside me now. In any case, I ammost grateful to you for your visit, and flattering attention. . . But ifyou are afraid. . . "

"Excuse me, Nastasia Philipovna, " interrupted the general, withchivalric generosity. "To whom are you speaking? I have remained untilnow simply because of my devotion to you, and as for danger, I am onlyafraid that the carpets may be ruined, and the furniture smashed!. . . Youshould shut the door on the lot, in my opinion. But I confess that I amextremely curious to see how it ends. "

"Rogojin!" announced Ferdishenko. 

"What do you think about it?" said the general in a low voice to Totski. "Is she mad? I mean mad in the medical sense of the word . . . . Eh?"

"I've always said she was predisposed to it, " whispered AfanasyIvanovitch slyly. "Perhaps it is a fever!"

Since their visit to Gania's home, Rogojin's followers had beenincreased by two new recruits--a dissolute old man, the hero of someancient scandal, and a retired sub-lieutenant. A laughable story wastold of the former. He possessed, it was said, a set of false teeth, andone day when he wanted money for a drinking orgy, he pawned them, andwas never able to reclaim them! The officer appeared to be a rival ofthe gentleman who was so proud of his fists. He was known to none ofRogojin's followers, but as they passed by the Nevsky, where he stoodbegging, he had joined their ranks. His claim for the charity he desiredseemed based on the fact that in the days of his prosperity he had givenaway as much as fifteen roubles at a time. The rivals seemed more thana little jealous of one another. The athlete appeared injured at theadmission of the "beggar" into the company. By nature taciturn, he nowmerely growled occasionally like a bear, and glared contemptuouslyupon the "beggar, " who, being somewhat of a man of the world, and adiplomatist, tried to insinuate himself into the bear's good graces. He was a much smaller man than the athlete, and doubtless was consciousthat he must tread warily. Gently and without argument he alluded tothe advantages of the English style in boxing, and showed himself afirm believer in Western institutions. The athlete's lips curleddisdainfully, and without honouring his adversary with a formal denial, he exhibited, as if by accident, that peculiarly Russian object--anenormous fist, clenched, muscular, and covered with red hairs! The sightof this pre-eminently national attribute was enough to convince anybody, without words, that it was a serious matter for those who should happento come into contact with it. 

None of the band were very drunk, for the leader had kept his intendedvisit to Nastasia in view all day, and had done his best to preventhis followers from drinking too much. He was sober himself, but theexcitement of this chaotic day--the strangest day of his life--hadaffected him so that he was in a dazed, wild condition, which almostresembled drunkenness. 

He had kept but one idea before him all day, and for that he had workedin an agony of anxiety and a fever of suspense. His lieutenants hadworked so hard from five o'clock until eleven, that they actually hadcollected a hundred thousand roubles for him, but at such terrificexpense, that the rate of interest was only mentioned among them inwhispers and with bated breath. 

As before, Rogojin walked in advance of his troop, who followed him withmingled self-assertion and timidity. They were specially frightened ofNastasia Philipovna herself, for some reason. 

Many of them expected to be thrown downstairs at once, without furtherceremony, the elegant and irresistible Zaleshoff among them. Butthe party led by the athlete, without openly showing their hostileintentions, silently nursed contempt and even hatred for NastasiaPhilipovna, and marched into her house as they would have marched intoan enemy's fortress. Arrived there, the luxury of the rooms seemed toinspire them with a kind of respect, not unmixed with alarm. So manythings were entirely new to their experience--the choice furniture, thepictures, the great statue of Venus. They followed their chief into thesalon, however, with a kind of impudent curiosity. There, the sight ofGeneral Epanchin among the guests, caused many of them to beat a hastyretreat into the adjoining room, the "boxer" and "beggar" being amongthe first to go. A few only, of whom Lebedeff made one, stood theirground; he had contrived to walk side by side with Rogojin, for he quiteunderstood the importance of a man who had a fortune of a million oddroubles, and who at this moment carried a hundred thousand in his hand. It may be added that the whole company, not excepting Lebedeff, had thevaguest idea of the extent of their powers, and of how far they couldsafely go. At some moments Lebedeff was sure that right was on theirside; at others he tried uneasily to remember various cheering andreassuring articles of the Civil Code. 

Rogojin, when he stepped into the room, and his eyes fell upon Nastasia, stopped short, grew white as a sheet, and stood staring; it was clearthat his heart was beating painfully. So he stood, gazing intently, buttimidly, for a few seconds. Suddenly, as though bereft of his senses, hemoved forward, staggering helplessly, towards the table. On his way hecollided against Ptitsin's chair, and put his dirty foot on the laceskirt of the silent lady's dress; but he neither apologized for this, nor even noticed it. 

On reaching the table, he placed upon it a strange-looking object, whichhe had carried with him into the drawing-room. This was a paper packet, some six or seven inches thick, and eight or nine in length, wrapped inan old newspaper, and tied round three or four times with string. 

Having placed this before her, he stood with drooped arms and head, asthough awaiting his sentence. 

His costume was the same as it had been in the morning, except for a newsilk handkerchief round his neck, bright green and red, fastened with ahuge diamond pin, and an enormous diamond ring on his dirty forefinger. 

Lebedeff stood two or three paces behind his chief; and the rest of theband waited about near the door. 

The two maid-servants were both peeping in, frightened and amazed atthis unusual and disorderly scene. 

"What is that?" asked Nastasia Philipovna, gazing intently at Rogojin, and indicating the paper packet. 

"A hundred thousand, " replied the latter, almost in a whisper. 

"Oh! so he kept his word--there's a man for you! Well, sit down, please--take that chair. I shall have something to say to you presently. Who are all these with you? The same party? Let them come in and sitdown. There's room on that sofa, there are some chairs and there'sanother sofa! Well, why don't they sit down?"

Sure enough, some of the brave fellows entirely lost their heads at thispoint, and retreated into the next room. Others, however, took the hintand sat down, as far as they could from the table, however; feelingbraver in proportion to their distance from Nastasia. 

Rogojin took the chair offered him, but he did not sit long; he soonstood up again, and did not reseat himself. Little by little he beganto look around him and discern the other guests. Seeing Gania, he smiledvenomously and muttered to himself, "Look at that!"

He gazed at Totski and the general with no apparent confusion, and withvery little curiosity. But when he observed that the prince was seatedbeside Nastasia Philipovna, he could not take his eyes off him fora long while, and was clearly amazed. He could not account for theprince's presence there. It was not in the least surprising that Rogojinshould be, at this time, in a more or less delirious condition; for notto speak of the excitements of the day, he had spent the night before inthe train, and had not slept more than a wink for forty-eight hours. 

"This, gentlemen, is a hundred thousand roubles, " said NastasiaPhilipovna, addressing the company in general, "here, in this dirtyparcel. This afternoon Rogojin yelled, like a madman, that he wouldbring me a hundred thousand in the evening, and I have been waiting forhim all the while. He was bargaining for me, you know; first he offeredme eighteen thousand; then he rose to forty, and then to a hundredthousand. And he has kept his word, see! My goodness, how white he is!All this happened this afternoon, at Gania's. I had gone to pay hismother a visit--my future family, you know! And his sister said to myvery face, surely somebody will turn this shameless creature out. Afterwhich she spat in her brother Gania's face--a girl of character, that!"

"Nastasia Philipovna!" began the general, reproachfully. He wasbeginning to put his own interpretation on the affair. 

"Well, what, general? Not quite good form, eh? Oh, nonsense! Here haveI been sitting in my box at the French theatre for the last five yearslike a statue of inaccessible virtue, and kept out of the way of alladmirers, like a silly little idiot! Now, there's this man, who comesand pays down his hundred thousand on the table, before you all, inspite of my five years of innocence and proud virtue, and I dare besworn he has his sledge outside waiting to carry me off. He values meat a hundred thousand! I see you are still angry with me, Gania!Why, surely you never really wished to take ME into your family? ME, Rogojin's mistress! What did the prince say just now?"

"I never said you were Rogojin's mistress--you are NOT!" said theprince, in trembling accents. 

"Nastasia Philipovna, dear soul!" cried the actress, impatiently, "dobe calm, dear! If it annoys you so--all this--do go away and rest! Ofcourse you would never go with this wretched fellow, in spite of hishundred thousand roubles! Take his money and kick him out of the house;that's the way to treat him and the likes of him! Upon my word, if itwere my business, I'd soon clear them all out!"

The actress was a kind-hearted woman, and highly impressionable. She wasvery angry now. 

"Don't be cross, Daria Alexeyevna!" laughed Nastasia. "I was not angrywhen I spoke; I wasn't reproaching Gania. I don't know how it was that Iever could have indulged the whim of entering an honest family like his. I saw his mother--and kissed her hand, too. I came and stirred up allthat fuss, Gania, this afternoon, on purpose to see how much you couldswallow--you surprised me, my friend--you did, indeed. Surely you couldnot marry a woman who accepts pearls like those you knew the general wasgoing to give me, on the very eve of her marriage? And Rogojin! Why, inyour own house and before your own brother and sister, he bargained withme! Yet you could come here and expect to be betrothed to me before youleft the house! You almost brought your sister, too. Surely what Rogojinsaid about you is not really true: that you would crawl all the way tothe other end of the town, on hands and knees, for three roubles?"

"Yes, he would!" said Rogojin, quietly, but with an air of absoluteconviction. 

"H'm! and he receives a good salary, I'm told. Well, what should you getbut disgrace and misery if you took a wife you hated into your family(for I know very well that you do hate me)? No, no! I believe now that aman like you would murder anyone for money--sharpen a razor and comeup behind his best friend and cut his throat like a sheep--I've readof such people. Everyone seems money-mad nowadays. No, no! I may beshameless, but you are far worse. I don't say a word about that other--"

"Nastasia Philipovna, is this really you? You, once so refined anddelicate of speech. Oh, what a tongue! What dreadful things you aresaying, " cried the general, wringing his hands in real grief. 

"I am intoxicated, general. I am having a day out, you know--it's mybirthday! I have long looked forward to this happy occasion. DariaAlexeyevna, you see that nosegay-man, that Monsieur aux Camelias, sitting there laughing at us?"

"I am not laughing, Nastasia Philipovna; I am only listening with all myattention, " said Totski, with dignity. 

"Well, why have I worried him, for five years, and never let him gofree? Is he worth it? He is only just what he ought to be--nothingparticular. He thinks I am to blame, too. He gave me my education, keptme like a countess. Money--my word! What a lot of money he spent overme! And he tried to find me an honest husband first, and then thisGania, here. And what do you think? All these five years I did notlive with him, and yet I took his money, and considered I was quitejustified. 

"You say, take the hundred thousand and kick that man out. It is true, it is an abominable business, as you say. I might have married long ago, not Gania--Oh, no!--but that would have been abominable too. 

"Would you believe it, I had some thoughts of marrying Totski, fouryears ago! I meant mischief, I confess--but I could have had him, I giveyou my word; he asked me himself. But I thought, no! it's not worthwhileto take such advantage of him. No! I had better go on to the streets, oraccept Rogojin, or become a washerwoman or something--for I have nothingof my own, you know. I shall go away and leave everything behind, tothe last rag--he shall have it all back. And who would take me withoutanything? Ask Gania, there, whether he would. Why, even Ferdishenkowouldn't have me!"

"No, Ferdishenko would not; he is a candid fellow, Nastasia Philipovna, "said that worthy. "But the prince would. You sit here making complaints, but just look at the prince. I've been observing him for a long while. "

Nastasia Philipovna looked keenly round at the prince. 

"Is that true?" she asked. 

"Quite true, " whispered the prince. 

"You'll take me as I am, with nothing?"

"I will, Nastasia Philipovna. "

"Here's a pretty business!" cried the general. "However, it might havebeen expected of him. "

The prince continued to regard Nastasia with a sorrowful, but intent andpiercing, gaze. 

"Here's another alternative for me, " said Nastasia, turning once more tothe actress; "and he does it out of pure kindness of heart. I know him. I've found a benefactor. Perhaps, though, what they say about him may betrue--that he's an--we know what. And what shall you live on, if you arereally so madly in love with Rogojin's mistress, that you are ready tomarry her--eh?"

"I take you as a good, honest woman, Nastasia Philipovna--not asRogojin's mistress. "

"Who? I?--good and honest?"

"Yes, you. "

"Oh, you get those ideas out of novels, you know. Times are changednow, dear prince; the world sees things as they really are. That's allnonsense. Besides, how can you marry? You need a nurse, not a wife. "

The prince rose and began to speak in a trembling, timid tone, but withthe air of a man absolutely sure of the truth of his words. 

"I know nothing, Nastasia Philipovna. I have seen nothing. You are rightso far; but I consider that you would be honouring me, and not I you. Iam a nobody. You have suffered, you have passed through hell and emergedpure, and that is very much. Why do you shame yourself by desiring togo with Rogojin? You are delirious. You have returned to Mr. Totski hisseventy-five thousand roubles, and declared that you will leave thishouse and all that is in it, which is a line of conduct that not oneperson here would imitate. Nastasia Philipovna, I love you! I would diefor you. I shall never let any man say one word against you, NastasiaPhilipovna! and if we are poor, I can work for both. "

As the prince spoke these last words a titter was heard fromFerdishenko; Lebedeff laughed too. The general grunted with irritation;Ptitsin and Totski barely restrained their smiles. The rest all satlistening, open-mouthed with wonder. 

"But perhaps we shall not be poor; we may be very rich, NastasiaPhilipovna. " continued the prince, in the same timid, quivering tones. "I don't know for certain, and I'm sorry to say I haven't had anopportunity of finding out all day; but I received a letter from Moscow, while I was in Switzerland, from a Mr. Salaskin, and he acquaints mewith the fact that I am entitled to a very large inheritance. Thisletter--"

The prince pulled a letter out of his pocket. 

"Is he raving?" said the general. "Are we really in a mad-house?"

There was silence for a moment. Then Ptitsin spoke. 

"I think you said, prince, that your letter was from Salaskin? Salaskinis a very eminent man, indeed, in his own world; he is a wonderfullyclever solicitor, and if he really tells you this, I think you may bepretty sure that he is right. It so happens, luckily, that I know hishandwriting, for I have lately had business with him. If you would allowme to see it, I should perhaps be able to tell you. "

The prince held out the letter silently, but with a shaking hand. 

"What, what?" said the general, much agitated. 

"What's all this? Is he really heir to anything?"

All present concentrated their attention upon Ptitsin, reading theprince's letter. The general curiosity had received a new fillip. Ferdishenko could not sit still. Rogojin fixed his eyes first on theprince, and then on Ptitsin, and then back again; he was extremelyagitated. Lebedeff could not stand it. He crept up and read overPtitsin's shoulder, with the air of a naughty boy who expects a box onthe ear every moment for his indiscretion. 

XVI. 

"It's good business, " said Ptitsin, at last, folding the letter andhanding it back to the prince. "You will receive, without the slightesttrouble, by the last will and testament of your aunt, a very large sumof money indeed. "

"Impossible!" cried the general, starting up as if he had been shot. 

Ptitsin explained, for the benefit of the company, that the prince'saunt had died five months since. He had never known her, but she was hismother's own sister, the daughter of a Moscow merchant, one Paparchin, who had died a bankrupt. But the elder brother of this same Paparchin, had been an eminent and very rich merchant. A year since it had sohappened that his only two sons had both died within the same month. This sad event had so affected the old man that he, too, had died veryshortly after. He was a widower, and had no relations left, exceptingthe prince's aunt, a poor woman living on charity, who was herself atthe point of death from dropsy; but who had time, before she died, to set Salaskin to work to find her nephew, and to make her willbequeathing her newly-acquired fortune to him. 

It appeared that neither the prince, nor the doctor with whom he livedin Switzerland, had thought of waiting for further communications;but the prince had started straight away with Salaskin's letter in hispocket. 

"One thing I may tell you, for certain, " concluded Ptitsin, addressingthe prince, "that there is no question about the authenticity of thismatter. Anything that Salaskin writes you as regards your unquestionableright to this inheritance, you may look upon as so much money in yourpocket. I congratulate you, prince; you may receive a million and a halfof roubles, perhaps more; I don't know. All I DO know is that Paparchinwas a very rich merchant indeed. "

"Hurrah!" cried Lebedeff, in a drunken voice. "Hurrah for the last ofthe Muishkins!"

"My goodness me! and I gave him twenty-five roubles this morning asthough he were a beggar, " blurted out the general, half senseless withamazement. "Well, I congratulate you, I congratulate you!" And thegeneral rose from his seat and solemnly embraced the prince. All cameforward with congratulations; even those of Rogojin's party who hadretreated into the next room, now crept softly back to look on. For themoment even Nastasia Philipovna was forgotten. 

But gradually the consciousness crept back into the minds of each onepresent that the prince had just made her an offer of marriage. Thesituation had, therefore, become three times as fantastic as before. 

Totski sat and shrugged his shoulders, bewildered. He was the only guestleft sitting at this time; the others had thronged round the table indisorder, and were all talking at once. 

It was generally agreed, afterwards, in recalling that evening, thatfrom this moment Nastasia Philipovna seemed entirely to lose her senses. She continued to sit still in her place, looking around at her guestswith a strange, bewildered expression, as though she were trying tocollect her thoughts, and could not. Then she suddenly turned to theprince, and glared at him with frowning brows; but this only lasted onemoment. Perhaps it suddenly struck her that all this was a jest, but hisface seemed to reassure her. She reflected, and smiled again, vaguely. 

"So I am really a princess, " she whispered to herself, ironically, and glancing accidentally at Daria Alexeyevna's face, she burst outlaughing. 

"Ha, ha, ha!" she cried, "this is an unexpected climax, after all. Ididn't expect this. What are you all standing up for, gentlemen? Sitdown; congratulate me and the prince! Ferdishenko, just step out andorder some more champagne, will you? Katia, Pasha, " she added suddenly, seeing the servants at the door, "come here! I'm going to be married, did you hear? To the prince. He has a million and a half of roubles; heis Prince Muishkin, and has asked me to marry him. Here, prince, comeand sit by me; and here comes the wine. Now then, ladies and gentlemen, where are your congratulations?"

"Hurrah!" cried a number of voices. A rush was made for the wine byRogojin's followers, though, even among them, there seemed some sort ofrealization that the situation had changed. Rogojin stood and looked on, with an incredulous smile, screwing up one side of his mouth. 

"Prince, my dear fellow, do remember what you are about, " said thegeneral, approaching Muishkin, and pulling him by the coat sleeve. 

Nastasia Philipovna overheard the remark, and burst out laughing. 

"No, no, general!" she cried. "You had better look out! I am theprincess now, you know. The prince won't let you insult me. AfanasyIvanovitch, why don't you congratulate me? I shall be able to sit attable with your new wife, now. Aha! you see what I gain by marryinga prince! A million and a half, and a prince, and an idiot into thebargain, they say. What better could I wish for? Life is only just aboutto commence for me in earnest. Rogojin, you are a little too late. Awaywith your paper parcel! I'm going to marry the prince; I'm richer thanyou are now. "

But Rogojin understood how things were tending, at last. Aninexpressibly painful expression came over his face. He wrung his hands;a groan made its way up from the depths of his soul. 

"Surrender her, for God's sake!" he said to the prince. 

All around burst out laughing. 

"What? Surrender her to YOU?" cried Daria Alexeyevna. "To a fellow whocomes and bargains for a wife like a moujik! The prince wishes to marryher, and you--"

"So do I, so do I! This moment, if I could! I'd give every farthing Ihave to do it. "

"You drunken moujik, " said Daria Alexeyevna, once more. "You ought to bekicked out of the place. "

The laughter became louder than ever. 

"Do you hear, prince?" said Nastasia Philipovna. "Do you hear how thismoujik of a fellow goes on bargaining for your bride?"

"He is drunk, " said the prince, quietly, "and he loves you very much. "

"Won't you be ashamed, afterwards, to reflect that your wife very nearlyran away with Rogojin?"

"Oh, you were raving, you were in a fever; you are still halfdelirious. "

"And won't you be ashamed when they tell you, afterwards, that your wifelived at Totski's expense so many years?"

"No; I shall not be ashamed of that. You did not so live by your ownwill. "

"And you'll never reproach me with it?"

"Never. "

"Take care, don't commit yourself for a whole lifetime. "

"Nastasia Philipovna. " said the prince, quietly, and with deep emotion, "I said before that I shall esteem your consent to be my wife as a greathonour to myself, and shall consider that it is you who will honourme, not I you, by our marriage. You laughed at these words, and othersaround us laughed as well; I heard them. Very likely I expressed myselffunnily, and I may have looked funny, but, for all that, I believe Iunderstand where honour lies, and what I said was but the literal truth. You were about to ruin yourself just now, irrevocably; you wouldnever have forgiven yourself for so doing afterwards; and yet, youare absolutely blameless. It is impossible that your life should bealtogether ruined at your age. What matter that Rogojin came bargaininghere, and that Gavrila Ardalionovitch would have deceived you if hecould? Why do you continually remind us of these facts? I assure youonce more that very few could find it in them to act as you have actedthis day. As for your wish to go with Rogojin, that was simply the ideaof a delirious and suffering brain. You are still quite feverish; youought to be in bed, not here. You know quite well that if you had gonewith Rogojin, you would have become a washer-woman next day, rather thanstay with him. You are proud, Nastasia Philipovna, and perhaps you havereally suffered so much that you imagine yourself to be a desperatelyguilty woman. You require a great deal of petting and looking after, Nastasia Philipovna, and I will do this. I saw your portrait thismorning, and it seemed quite a familiar face to me; it seemed to me thatthe portrait-face was calling to me for help. I-I shall respect you allmy life, Nastasia Philipovna, " concluded the prince, as though suddenlyrecollecting himself, and blushing to think of the sort of companybefore whom he had said all this. 

Ptitsin bowed his head and looked at the ground, overcome by a mixtureof feelings. Totski muttered to himself: "He may be an idiot, but heknows that flattery is the best road to success here. "

The prince observed Gania's eyes flashing at him, as though they wouldgladly annihilate him then and there. 

"That's a kind-hearted man, if you like, " said Daria Alexeyevna, whosewrath was quickly evaporating. 

"A refined man, but--lost, " murmured the general. 

Totski took his hat and rose to go. He and the general exchangedglances, making a private arrangement, thereby, to leave the housetogether. 

"Thank you, prince; no one has ever spoken to me like that before, "began Nastasia Philipovna. "Men have always bargained for me, beforethis; and not a single respectable man has ever proposed to marry me. Doyou hear, Afanasy Ivanovitch? What do YOU think of what the prince hasjust been saying? It was almost immodest, wasn't it? You, Rogojin, waita moment, don't go yet! I see you don't intend to move however. PerhapsI may go with you yet. Where did you mean to take me to?"

"To Ekaterinhof, " replied Lebedeff. Rogojin simply stood staring, withtrembling lips, not daring to believe his ears. He was stunned, asthough from a blow on the head. 

"What are you thinking of, my dear Nastasia?" said Daria Alexeyevna inalarm. "What are you saying?" "You are not going mad, are you?"

Nastasia Philipovna burst out laughing and jumped up from the sofa. 

"You thought I should accept this good child's invitation to ruinhim, did you?" she cried. "That's Totski's way, not mine. He's fond ofchildren. Come along, Rogojin, get your money ready! We won't talk aboutmarrying just at this moment, but let's see the money at all events. Come! I may not marry you, either. I don't know. I suppose you thoughtyou'd keep the money, if I did! Ha, ha, ha! nonsense! I have no sense ofshame left. I tell you I have been Totski's concubine. Prince, youmust marry Aglaya Ivanovna, not Nastasia Philipovna, or this fellowFerdishenko will always be pointing the finger of scorn at you. Youaren't afraid, I know; but I should always be afraid that I had ruinedyou, and that you would reproach me for it. As for what you say aboutmy doing you honour by marrying you-well, Totski can tell you all aboutthat. You had your eye on Aglaya, Gania, you know you had; and you mighthave married her if you had not come bargaining. You are all likethis. You should choose, once for all, between disreputable women, andrespectable ones, or you are sure to get mixed. Look at the general, howhe's staring at me!"

"This is too horrible, " said the general, starting to his feet. All werestanding up now. Nastasia was absolutely beside herself. 

"I am very proud, in spite of what I am, " she continued. "You called me'perfection' just now, prince. A nice sort of perfection to throw up aprince and a million and a half of roubles in order to be able to boastof the fact afterwards! What sort of a wife should I make for you, afterall I have said? Afanasy Ivanovitch, do you observe I have really andtruly thrown away a million of roubles? And you thought that I shouldconsider your wretched seventy-five thousand, with Gania thrown in for ahusband, a paradise of bliss! Take your seventy-five thousand back, sir;you did not reach the hundred thousand. Rogojin cut a better dash thanyou did. I'll console Gania myself; I have an idea about that. But now Imust be off! I've been in prison for ten years. I'm free at last! Well, Rogojin, what are you waiting for? Let's get ready and go. "

"Come along!" shouted Rogojin, beside himself with joy. "Hey! all of youfellows! Wine! Round with it! Fill the glasses!"

"Get away!" he shouted frantically, observing that Daria Alexeyevnawas approaching to protest against Nastasia's conduct. "Get away, she'smine, everything's mine! She's a queen, get away!"

He was panting with ecstasy. He walked round and round NastasiaPhilipovna and told everybody to "keep their distance. "

All the Rogojin company were now collected in the drawing-room; somewere drinking, some laughed and talked: all were in the highest andwildest spirits. Ferdishenko was doing his best to unite himself tothem; the general and Totski again made an attempt to go. Gania, toostood hat in hand ready to go; but seemed to be unable to tear his eyesaway from the scene before him. 

"Get out, keep your distance!" shouted Rogojin. 

"What are you shouting about there!" cried Nastasia "I'm not yours yet. I may kick you out for all you know I haven't taken your money yet;there it all is on the table Here, give me over that packet! Is there ahundred thousand roubles in that one packet? Pfu! what abominable stuffit looks! Oh! nonsense, Daria Alexeyevna; you surely did not expect meto ruin HIM?" (indicating the prince). "Fancy him nursing me! Why, heneeds a nurse himself! The general, there, will be his nurse now, you'llsee. Here, prince, look here! Your bride is accepting money. What adisreputable woman she must be! And you wished to marry her! What areyou crying about? Is it a bitter dose? Never mind, you shall laugh yet. Trust to time. " (In spite of these words there were two large tearsrolling down Nastasia's own cheeks. ) "It's far better to think twiceof it now than afterwards. Oh! you mustn't cry like that! There's Katiacrying, too. What is it, Katia, dear? I shall leave you and Pasha a lotof things, I've laid them out for you already; but good-bye, now. I madean honest girl like you serve a low woman like myself. It's better so, prince, it is indeed. You'd begin to despise me afterwards--we shouldnever be happy. Oh! you needn't swear, prince, I shan't believe you, youknow. How foolish it would be, too! No, no; we'd better say good-bye andpart friends. I am a bit of a dreamer myself, and I used to dream of youonce. Very often during those five years down at his estate I used todream and think, and I always imagined just such a good, honest, foolishfellow as you, one who should come and say to me: 'You are an innocentwoman, Nastasia Philipovna, and I adore you. ' I dreamt of you often. Iused to think so much down there that I nearly went mad; and then thisfellow here would come down. He would stay a couple of months out of thetwelve, and disgrace and insult and deprave me, and then go; so that Ilonged to drown myself in the pond a thousand times over; but I did notdare do it. I hadn't the heart, and now--well, are you ready, Rogojin?"

"Ready--keep your distance, all of you!"

"We're all ready, " said several of his friends. "The troikas [Sledgesdrawn by three horses abreast. ] are at the door, bells and all. "

Nastasia Philipovna seized the packet of bank-notes. 

"Gania, I have an idea. I wish to recompense you--why should youlose all? Rogojin, would he crawl for three roubles as far as theVassiliostrof?

"Oh, wouldn't he just!"

"Well, look here, Gania. I wish to look into your heart once more, forthe last time. You've worried me for the last three months--now it's myturn. Do you see this packet? It contains a hundred thousand roubles. Now, I'm going to throw it into the fire, here--before all thesewitnesses. As soon as the fire catches hold of it, you put your handsinto the fire and pick it out--without gloves, you know. You must havebare hands, and you must turn your sleeves up. Pull it out, I say, andit's all yours. You may burn your fingers a little, of course; but thenit's a hundred thousand roubles, remember--it won't take you long to layhold of it and snatch it out. I shall so much admire you if you put yourhands into the fire for my money. All here present may be witnesses thatthe whole packet of money is yours if you get it out. If you don't getit out, it shall burn. I will let no one else come; away--get away, allof you--it's my money! Rogojin has bought me with it. Is it my money, Rogojin?"

"Yes, my queen; it's your own money, my joy. "

"Get away then, all of you. I shall do as I like with my own--don'tmeddle! Ferdishenko, make up the fire, quick!"

"Nastasia Philipovna, I can't; my hands won't obey me, " saidFerdishenko, astounded and helpless with bewilderment. 

"Nonsense, " cried Nastasia Philipovna, seizing the poker and raking acouple of logs together. No sooner did a tongue of flame burst out thanshe threw the packet of notes upon it. 

Everyone gasped; some even crossed themselves. 

"She's mad--she's mad!" was the cry. 

"Oughtn't-oughtn't we to secure her?" asked the general of Ptitsin, ina whisper; "or shall we send for the authorities? Why, she's mad, isn'tshe--isn't she, eh?"

"N-no, I hardly think she is actually mad, " whispered Ptitsin, who wasas white as his handkerchief, and trembling like a leaf. He could nottake his eyes off the smouldering packet. 

"She's mad surely, isn't she?" the general appealed to Totski. 

"I told you she wasn't an ordinary woman, " replied the latter, who wasas pale as anyone. 

"Oh, but, positively, you know--a hundred thousand roubles!"

"Goodness gracious! good heavens!" came from all quarters of the room. 

All now crowded round the fire and thronged to see what was going on;everyone lamented and gave vent to exclamations of horror and woe. Somejumped up on chairs in order to get a better view. Daria Alexeyevnaran into the next room and whispered excitedly to Katia and Pasha. Thebeautiful German disappeared altogether. 

"My lady! my sovereign!" lamented Lebedeff, falling on his knees beforeNastasia Philipovna, and stretching out his hands towards the fire;"it's a hundred thousand roubles, it is indeed, I packed it up myself, I saw the money! My queen, let me get into the fire after it--say theword-I'll put my whole grey head into the fire for it! I have a poorlame wife and thirteen children. My father died of starvation last week. Nastasia Philipovna, Nastasia Philipovna!" The wretched little man wept, and groaned, and crawled towards the fire. 

"Away, out of the way!" cried Nastasia. "Make room, all of you! Gania, what are you standing there for? Don't stand on ceremony. Put in yourhand! There's your whole happiness smouldering away, look! Quick!"

But Gania had borne too much that day, and especially this evening, andhe was not prepared for this last, quite unexpected trial. 

The crowd parted on each side of him and he was left face to face withNastasia Philipovna, three paces from her. She stood by the fire andwaited, with her intent gaze fixed upon him. 

Gania stood before her, in his evening clothes, holding his white glovesand hat in his hand, speechless and motionless, with arms folded andeyes fixed on the fire. 

A silly, meaningless smile played on his white, death-like lips. Hecould not take his eyes off the smouldering packet; but it appeared thatsomething new had come to birth in his soul--as though he were vowing tohimself that he would bear this trial. He did not move from his place. In a few seconds it became evident to all that he did not intend torescue the money. 

"Hey! look at it, it'll burn in another minute or two!" cried NastasiaPhilipovna. "You'll hang yourself afterwards, you know, if it does! I'mnot joking. "

The fire, choked between a couple of smouldering pieces of wood, haddied down for the first few moments after the packet was thrown upon it. But a little tongue of fire now began to lick the paper from below, and soon, gathering courage, mounted the sides of the parcel, and creptaround it. In another moment, the whole of it burst into flames, and theexclamations of woe and horror were redoubled. 

"Nastasia Philipovna!" lamented Lebedeff again, straining towards thefireplace; but Rogojin dragged him away, and pushed him to the rear oncemore. 

The whole of Regojin's being was concentrated in one rapturous gaze ofecstasy. He could not take his eyes off Nastasia. He stood drinking herin, as it were. He was in the seventh heaven of delight. 

"Oh, what a queen she is!" he ejaculated, every other minute, throwingout the remark for anyone who liked to catch it. "That's the sort ofwoman for me! Which of you would think of doing a thing like that, youblackguards, eh?" he yelled. He was hopelessly and wildly beside himselfwith ecstasy. 

The prince watched the whole scene, silent and dejected. 

"I'll pull it out with my teeth for one thousand, " said Ferdishenko. 

"So would I, " said another, from behind, "with pleasure. Devil take thething!" he added, in a tempest of despair, "it will all be burnt up in aminute--It's burning, it's burning!"

"It's burning, it's burning!" cried all, thronging nearer and nearer tothe fire in their excitement. 

"Gania, don't be a fool! I tell you for the last time. "

"Get on, quick!" shrieked Ferdishenko, rushing wildly up to Gania, andtrying to drag him to the fire by the sleeve of his coat. "Get it, youdummy, it's burning away fast! Oh--DAMN the thing!"

Gania hurled Ferdishenko from him; then he turned sharp round and madefor the door. But he had not gone a couple of steps when he tottered andfell to the ground. 

"He's fainted!" the cry went round. 

"And the money's burning still, " Lebedeff lamented. 

"Burning for nothing, " shouted others. 

"Katia-Pasha! Bring him some water!" cried Nastasia Philipovna. Then shetook the tongs and fished out the packet. 

Nearly the whole of the outer covering was burned away, but it wassoon evident that the contents were hardly touched. The packet had beenwrapped in a threefold covering of newspaper, and the notes were safe. All breathed more freely. 

"Some dirty little thousand or so may be touched, " said Lebedeff, immensely relieved, "but there's very little harm done, after all. "

"It's all his--the whole packet is for him, do you hear--all of you?"cried Nastasia Philipovna, placing the packet by the side of Gania. "He restrained himself, and didn't go after it; so his self-respect isgreater than his thirst for money. All right--he'll come to directly--hemust have the packet or he'll cut his throat afterwards. There! He'scoming to himself. General, Totski, all of you, did you hear me? Themoney is all Gania's. I give it to him, fully conscious of my action, asrecompense for--well, for anything he thinks best. Tell him so. Let itlie here beside him. Off we go, Rogojin! Goodbye, prince. I have seena man for the first time in my life. Goodbye, Afanasy Ivanovitch--andthanks!"

The Rogojin gang followed their leader and Nastasia Philipovna to theentrance-hall, laughing and shouting and whistling. 

In the hall the servants were waiting, and handed her her fur cloak. Martha, the cook, ran in from the kitchen. Nastasia kissed them allround. 

"Are you really throwing us all over, little mother? Where, where areyou going to? And on your birthday, too!" cried the four girls, cryingover her and kissing her hands. 

"I am going out into the world, Katia; perhaps I shall be a laundress. Idon't know. No more of Afanasy Ivanovitch, anyhow. Give him my respects. Don't think badly of me, girls. "

The prince hurried down to the front gate where the party were settlinginto the troikas, all the bells tinkling a merry accompaniment thewhile. The general caught him up on the stairs:

"Prince, prince!" he cried, seizing hold of his arm, "recollectyourself! Drop her, prince! You see what sort of a woman she is. I amspeaking to you like a father. "

The prince glanced at him, but said nothing. He shook himself free, andrushed on downstairs. 

The general was just in time to see the prince take the first sledge hecould get, and, giving the order to Ekaterinhof, start off in pursuitof the troikas. Then the general's fine grey horse dragged that worthyhome, with some new thoughts, and some new hopes and calculationsdeveloping in his brain, and with the pearls in his pocket, for he hadnot forgotten to bring them along with him, being a man of business. Amid his new thoughts and ideas there came, once or twice, the image ofNastasia Philipovna. The general sighed. 

"I'm sorry, really sorry, " he muttered. "She's a ruined woman. Mad! mad!However, the prince is not for Nastasia Philipovna now, --perhaps it's aswell. "

Two more of Nastasia's guests, who walked a short distance together, indulged in high moral sentiments of a similar nature. 

"Do you know, Totski, this is all very like what they say goes onamong the Japanese?" said Ptitsin. "The offended party there, they say, marches off to his insulter and says to him, 'You insulted me, so I havecome to rip myself open before your eyes;' and with these words hedoes actually rip his stomach open before his enemy, and considers, doubtless, that he is having all possible and necessary satisfaction andrevenge. There are strange characters in the world, sir!"

"H'm! and you think there was something of this sort here, do you? Dearme--a very remarkable comparison, you know! But you must have observed, my dear Ptitsin, that I did all I possibly could. I could do no morethan I did. And you must admit that there are some rare qualities inthis woman. I felt I could not speak in that Bedlam, or I should havebeen tempted to cry out, when she reproached me, that she herself wasmy best justification. Such a woman could make anyone forget allreason--everything! Even that moujik, Rogojin, you saw, brought hera hundred thousand roubles! Of course, all that happened tonightwas ephemeral, fantastic, unseemly--yet it lacked neither colour nororiginality. My God! What might not have been made of such a charactercombined with such beauty! Yet in spite of all efforts--in spite of alleducation, even--all those gifts are wasted! She is an uncut diamond. . . . I have often said so. "

And Afanasy Ivanovitch heaved a deep sigh. 

PART II

I. 

Two days after the strange conclusion to Nastasia Philipovna's birthdayparty, with the record of which we concluded the first part of thisstory, Prince Muishkin hurriedly left St. Petersburg for Moscow, inorder to see after some business connected with the receipt of hisunexpected fortune. 

It was said that there were other reasons for his hurried departure; butas to this, and as to his movements in Moscow, and as to hisprolonged absence from St. Petersburg, we are able to give very littleinformation. 

The prince was away for six months, and even those who were mostinterested in his destiny were able to pick up very little news abouthim all that while. True, certain rumours did reach his friends, butthese were both strange and rare, and each one contradicted the last. 

Of course the Epanchin family was much interested in his movements, though he had not had time to bid them farewell before his departure. The general, however, had had an opportunity of seeing him once or twicesince the eventful evening, and had spoken very seriously with him;but though he had seen the prince, as I say, he told his family nothingabout the circumstance. In fact, for a month or so after his departureit was considered not the thing to mention the prince's name in theEpanchin household. Only Mrs. Epanchin, at the commencement of thisperiod, had announced that she had been "cruelly mistaken in theprince!" and a day or two after, she had added, evidently alludingto him, but not mentioning his name, that it was an unalterablecharacteristic of hers to be mistaken in people. Then once more, tendays later, after some passage of arms with one of her daughters, shehad remarked sententiously. "We have had enough of mistakes. I shall bemore careful in future!" However, it was impossible to avoid remarkingthat there was some sense of oppression in the household--somethingunspoken, but felt; something strained. All the members of the familywore frowning looks. The general was unusually busy; his family hardlyever saw him. 

As to the girls, nothing was said openly, at all events; and probablyvery little in private. They were proud damsels, and were not alwaysperfectly confidential even among themselves. But they understood eachother thoroughly at the first word on all occasions; very often at thefirst glance, so that there was no need of much talking as a rule. 

One fact, at least, would have been perfectly plain to an outsider, hadany such person been on the spot; and that was, that the prince had madea very considerable impression upon the family, in spite of the factthat he had but once been inside the house, and then only for a shorttime. Of course, if analyzed, this impression might have proved to benothing more than a feeling of curiosity; but be it what it might, thereit undoubtedly was. 

Little by little, the rumours spread about town became lost in a maze ofuncertainty. It was said that some foolish young prince, name unknown, had suddenly come into possession of a gigantic fortune, and had marrieda French ballet dancer. This was contradicted, and the rumour circulatedthat it was a young merchant who had come into the enormous fortune andmarried the great ballet dancer, and that at the wedding the drunkenyoung fool had burned seventy thousand roubles at a candle out of purebravado. 

However, all these rumours soon died down, to which circumstance certainfacts largely contributed. For instance, the whole of the Rogojin troophad departed, with him at their head, for Moscow. This was exactly aweek after a dreadful orgy at the Ekaterinhof gardens, where NastasiaPhilipovna had been present. It became known that after this orgyNastasia Philipovna had entirely disappeared, and that she had sincebeen traced to Moscow; so that the exodus of the Rogojin band was foundconsistent with this report. 

There were rumours current as to Gania, too; but circumstances sooncontradicted these. He had fallen seriously ill, and his illnessprecluded his appearance in society, and even at business, for over amonth. As soon as he had recovered, however, he threw up his situationin the public company under General Epanchin's direction, for someunknown reason, and the post was given to another. He never wentnear the Epanchins' house at all, and was exceedingly irritable anddepressed. 

Varvara Ardalionovna married Ptitsin this winter, and it was said thatthe fact of Gania's retirement from business was the ultimate cause ofthe marriage, since Gania was now not only unable to support his family, but even required help himself. 

We may mention that Gania was no longer mentioned in the Epanchinhousehold any more than the prince was; but that a certain circumstancein connection with the fatal evening at Nastasia's house became knownto the general, and, in fact, to all the family the very next day. Thisfact was that Gania had come home that night, but had refused to go tobed. He had awaited the prince's return from Ekaterinhof with feverishimpatience. 

On the latter's arrival, at six in the morning, Gania had gone to himin his room, bringing with him the singed packet of money, which he hadinsisted that the prince should return to Nastasia Philipovna withoutdelay. It was said that when Gania entered the prince's room, he camewith anything but friendly feelings, and in a condition of despair andmisery; but that after a short conversation, he had stayed on for acouple of hours with him, sobbing continuously and bitterly the wholetime. They had parted upon terms of cordial friendship. 

The Epanchins heard about this, as well as about the episode at NastasiaPhilipovna's. It was strange, perhaps, that the facts should become soquickly, and fairly accurately, known. As far as Gania was concerned, it might have been supposed that the news had come through VarvaraArdalionovna, who had suddenly become a frequent visitor of the Epanchingirls, greatly to their mother's surprise. But though Varvara had seenfit, for some reason, to make friends with them, it was not likelythat she would have talked to them about her brother. She had plenty ofpride, in spite of the fact that in thus acting she was seeking intimacywith people who had practically shown her brother the door. She and theEpanchin girls had been acquainted in childhood, although of latethey had met but rarely. Even now Varvara hardly ever appeared in thedrawing-room, but would slip in by a back way. Lizabetha Prokofievna, who disliked Varvara, although she had a great respect for her mother, was much annoyed by this sudden intimacy, and put it down to the general"contrariness" of her daughters, who were "always on the lookout forsome new way of opposing her. " Nevertheless, Varvara continued hervisits. 

A month after Muishkin's departure, Mrs. Epanchin received a letter fromher old friend Princess Bielokonski (who had lately left for Moscow), which letter put her into the greatest good humour. She did not divulgeits contents either to her daughters or the general, but her conducttowards the former became affectionate in the extreme. She even madesome sort of confession to them, but they were unable to understand whatit was about. She actually relaxed towards the general a little--he hadbeen long disgraced--and though she managed to quarrel with them all thenext day, yet she soon came round, and from her general behaviour it wasto be concluded that she had bad good news of some sort, which she wouldlike, but could not make up her mind, to disclose. 

However, a week later she received another letter from the same source, and at last resolved to speak. 

She solemnly announced that she had heard from old Princess Bielokonski, who had given her most comforting news about "that queer young prince. "Her friend had hunted him up, and found that all was going well withhim. He had since called in person upon her, making an extremelyfavourable impression, for the princess had received him each day since, and had introduced him into several good houses. 

The girls could see that their mother concealed a great deal from them, and left out large pieces of the letter in reading it to them. 

However, the ice was broken, and it suddenly became possible to mentionthe prince's name again. And again it became evident how very strong wasthe impression the young man had made in the household by his one visitthere. Mrs. Epanchin was surprised at the effect which the news fromMoscow had upon the girls, and they were no less surprised that aftersolemnly remarking that her most striking characteristic was "beingmistaken in people" she should have troubled to obtain for the princethe favour and protection of so powerful an old lady as the PrincessBielokonski. As soon as the ice was thus broken, the general lost notime in showing that he, too, took the greatest interest in the subject. He admitted that he was interested, but said that it was merely in thebusiness side of the question. It appeared that, in the interests ofthe prince, he had made arrangements in Moscow for a careful watch to bekept upon the prince's business affairs, and especially upon Salaskin. All that had been said as to the prince being an undoubted heir to afortune turned out to be perfectly true; but the fortune proved to bemuch smaller than was at first reported. The estate was considerablyencumbered with debts; creditors turned up on all sides, and the prince, in spite of all advice and entreaty, insisted upon managing all mattersof claim himself--which, of course, meant satisfying everybody allround, although half the claims were absolutely fraudulent. 

Mrs. Epanchin confirmed all this. She said the princess had written tomuch the same effect, and added that there was no curing a fool. Butit was plain, from her expression of face, how strongly she approved ofthis particular young fool's doings. In conclusion, the general observedthat his wife took as great an interest in the prince as though he wereher own son; and that she had commenced to be especially affectionatetowards Aglaya was a self-evident fact. 

All this caused the general to look grave and important. But, alas! thisagreeable state of affairs very soon changed once more. 

A couple of weeks went by, and suddenly the general and his wife wereonce more gloomy and silent, and the ice was as firm as ever. The factwas, the general, who had heard first, how Nastasia Philipovna had fledto Moscow and had been discovered there by Rogojin; that she had thendisappeared once more, and been found again by Rogojin, and how afterthat she had almost promised to marry him, now received news that shehad once more disappeared, almost on the very day fixed for her wedding, flying somewhere into the interior of Russia this time, and thatPrince Muishkin had left all his affairs in the hands of Salaskin anddisappeared also--but whether he was with Nastasia, or had only set offin search of her, was unknown. 

Lizabetha Prokofievna received confirmatory news from the princess--andalas, two months after the prince's first departure from St. Petersburg, darkness and mystery once more enveloped his whereabouts and actions, and in the Epanchin family the ice of silence once more formed over thesubject. Varia, however, informed the girls of what had happened, shehaving received the news from Ptitsin, who generally knew more than mostpeople. 

To make an end, we may say that there were many changes in the Epanchinhousehold in the spring, so that it was not difficult to forget theprince, who sent no news of himself. 

The Epanchin family had at last made up their minds to spend the summerabroad, all except the general, who could not waste time in "travellingfor enjoyment, " of course. This arrangement was brought about by thepersistence of the girls, who insisted that they were never allowedto go abroad because their parents were too anxious to marry them off. Perhaps their parents had at last come to the conclusion that husbandsmight be found abroad, and that a summer's travel might bear fruit. Themarriage between Alexandra and Totski had been broken off. Since theprince's departure from St. Petersburg no more had been said about it;the subject had been dropped without ceremony, much to the joy of Mrs. General, who, announced that she was "ready to cross herself with bothhands" in gratitude for the escape. The general, however, regrettedTotski for a long while. "Such a fortune!" he sighed, "and such a good, easy-going fellow!"

After a time it became known that Totski had married a French marquise, and was to be carried off by her to Paris, and then to Brittany. 

"Oh, well, " thought the general, "he's lost to us for good, now. "

So the Epanchins prepared to depart for the summer. 

But now another circumstance occurred, which changed all the plans oncemore, and again the intended journey was put off, much to the delight ofthe general and his spouse. 

A certain Prince S---- arrived in St. Petersburg from Moscow, an eminentand honourable young man. He was one of those active persons who alwaysfind some good work with which to employ themselves. Without forcinghimself upon the public notice, modest and unobtrusive, this youngprince was concerned with much that happened in the world in general. 

He had served, at first, in one of the civil departments, had thenattended to matters connected with the local government of provincialtowns, and had of late been a corresponding member of several importantscientific societies. He was a man of excellent family and solid means, about thirty-five years of age. 

Prince S---- made the acquaintance of the general's family, andAdelaida, the second girl, made a great impression upon him. Towardsthe spring he proposed to her, and she accepted him. The general and hiswife were delighted. The journey abroad was put off, and the wedding wasfixed for a day not very distant. 

The trip abroad might have been enjoyed later on by Mrs. Epanchin andher two remaining daughters, but for another circumstance. 

It so happened that Prince S---- introduced a distant relation of hisown into the Epanchin family--one Evgenie Pavlovitch, a young officerof about twenty-eight years of age, whose conquests among the ladies inMoscow had been proverbial. This young gentleman no sooner set eyes onAglaya than he became a frequent visitor at the house. He was witty, well-educated, and extremely wealthy, as the general very soondiscovered. His past reputation was the only thing against him. 

Nothing was said; there were not even any hints dropped; but still, itseemed better to the parents to say nothing more about going abroadthis season, at all events. Aglaya herself perhaps was of a differentopinion. 

All this happened just before the second appearance of our hero upon thescene. 

By this time, to judge from appearances, poor Prince Muishkin had beenquite forgotten in St. Petersburg. If he had appeared suddenly among hisacquaintances, he would have been received as one from the skies; but wemust just glance at one more fact before we conclude this preface. 

Colia Ivolgin, for some time after the prince's departure, continued hisold life. That is, he went to school, looked after his father, helpedVaria in the house, and ran her errands, and went frequently to see hisfriend, Hippolyte. 

The lodgers had disappeared very quickly--Ferdishenko soon after theevents at Nastasia Philipovna's, while the prince went to Moscow, aswe know. Gania and his mother went to live with Varia and Ptitsinimmediately after the latter's wedding, while the general was housedin a debtor's prison by reason of certain IOU's given to the captain'swidow under the impression that they would never be formallyused against him. This unkind action much surprised poor ArdalionAlexandrovitch, the victim, as he called himself, of an "unbounded trustin the nobility of the human heart. "

When he signed those notes of hand he never dreamt that they would be asource of future trouble. The event showed that he was mistaken. "Trustin anyone after this! Have the least confidence in man or woman!" hecried in bitter tones, as he sat with his new friends in prison, andrecounted to them his favourite stories of the siege of Kars, and theresuscitated soldier. On the whole, he accommodated himself very wellto his new position. Ptitsin and Varia declared that he was in the rightplace, and Gania was of the same opinion. The only person who deploredhis fate was poor Nina Alexandrovna, who wept bitter tears over him, to the great surprise of her household, and, though always in feeblehealth, made a point of going to see him as often as possible. 

Since the general's "mishap, " as Colia called it, and the marriage ofhis sister, the boy had quietly possessed himself of far more freedom. His relations saw little of him, for he rarely slept at home. He mademany new friends; and was moreover, a frequent visitor at the debtor'sprison, to which he invariably accompanied his mother. Varia, who usedto be always correcting him, never spoke to him now on the subject ofhis frequent absences, and the whole household was surprised to seeGania, in spite of his depression, on quite friendly terms with hisbrother. This was something new, for Gania had been wont to look uponColia as a kind of errand-boy, treating him with contempt, threateningto "pull his ears, " and in general driving him almost wild withirritation. It seemed now that Gania really needed his brother, and thelatter, for his part, felt as if he could forgive Gania much since hehad returned the hundred thousand roubles offered to him by NastasiaPhilipovna. Three months after the departure of the prince, the Ivolginfamily discovered that Colia had made acquaintance with the Epanchins, and was on very friendly terms with the daughters. Varia heard of itfirst, though Colia had not asked her to introduce him. Little by littlethe family grew quite fond of him. Madame Epanchin at first looked onhim with disdain, and received him coldly, but in a short time hegrew to please her, because, as she said, he "was candid and noflatterer"----a very true description. From the first he put himselfon an equality with his new friends, and though he sometimes readnewspapers and books to the mistress of the house, it was simply becausehe liked to be useful. 

One day, however, he and Lizabetha Prokofievna quarrelled seriouslyabout the "woman question, " in the course of a lively discussion on thatburning subject. He told her that she was a tyrant, and that he wouldnever set foot in her house again. It may seem incredible, but a dayor two after, Madame Epanchin sent a servant with a note begging him toreturn, and Colia, without standing on his dignity, did so at once. 

Aglaya was the only one of the family whose good graces he could notgain, and who always spoke to him haughtily, but it so happened that theboy one day succeeded in giving the proud maiden a surprise. 

It was about Easter, when, taking advantage of a momentary tete-a-teteColia handed Aglaya a letter, remarking that he "had orders to deliverit to her privately. " She stared at him in amazement, but he did notwait to hear what she had to say, and went out. Aglaya broke the seal, and read as follows:

"Once you did me the honour of giving me your confidence. Perhaps youhave quite forgotten me now! How is it that I am writing to you? I donot know; but I am conscious of an irresistible desire to remind you ofmy existence, especially you. How many times I have needed all three ofyou; but only you have dwelt always in my mind's eye. I need you--I needyou very much. I will not write about myself. I have nothing to tellyou. But I long for you to be happy. ARE you happy? That is all I wishedto say to you--Your brother, "PR. L. MUISHKIN. "

On reading this short and disconnected note, Aglaya suddenly blushed allover, and became very thoughtful. 

It would be difficult to describe her thoughts at that moment. One ofthem was, "Shall I show it to anyone?" But she was ashamed to show it. So she ended by hiding it in her table drawer, with a very strange, ironical smile upon her lips. 

Next day, she took it out, and put it into a large book, as she usuallydid with papers which she wanted to be able to find easily. She laughedwhen, about a week later, she happened to notice the name of the book, and saw that it was Don Quixote, but it would be difficult to sayexactly why. 

I cannot say, either, whether she showed the letter to her sisters. 

But when she had read it herself once more, it suddenly struck herthat surely that conceited boy, Colia, had not been the one chosencorrespondent of the prince all this while. She determined to ask him, and did so with an exaggerated show of carelessness. He informed herhaughtily that though he had given the prince his permanent address whenthe latter left town, and had offered his services, the prince had neverbefore given him any commission to perform, nor had he written until thefollowing lines arrived, with Aglaya's letter. Aglaya took the note, andread it. 

"DEAR COLIA, --Please be so kind as to give the enclosed sealed letter toAglaya Ivanovna. Keep well--Ever your loving, "PR. L. MUISHKIN. "

"It seems absurd to trust a little pepper-box like you, " said Aglaya, as she returned the note, and walked past the "pepper-box" with anexpression of great contempt. 

This was more than Colia could bear. He had actually borrowed Gania'snew green tie for the occasion, without saying why he wanted it, inorder to impress her. He was very deeply mortified. 

IT was the beginning of June, and for a whole week the weather inSt. Petersburg had been magnificent. The Epanchins had a luxuriouscountry-house at Pavlofsk, [One of the fashionable summer resorts nearSt. Petersburg. ] and to this spot Mrs. Epanchin determined to proceedwithout further delay. In a couple of days all was ready, and the familyhad left town. A day or two after this removal to Pavlofsk, PrinceMuishkin arrived in St. Petersburg by the morning train from Moscow. Noone met him; but, as he stepped out of the carriage, he suddenly becameaware of two strangely glowing eyes fixed upon him from among the crowdthat met the train. On endeavouring to re-discover the eyes, and seeto whom they belonged, he could find nothing to guide him. It must havebeen a hallucination. But the disagreeable impression remained, andwithout this, the prince was sad and thoughtful already, and seemed tobe much preoccupied. 

His cab took him to a small and bad hotel near the Litaynaya. Herehe engaged a couple of rooms, dark and badly furnished. He washed andchanged, and hurriedly left the hotel again, as though anxious towaste no time. Anyone who now saw him for the first time since heleft Petersburg would judge that he had improved vastly so far as hisexterior was concerned. His clothes certainly were very different; theywere more fashionable, perhaps even too much so, and anyone inclined tomockery might have found something to smile at in his appearance. Butwhat is there that people will not smile at?

The prince took a cab and drove to a street near the Nativity, where hesoon discovered the house he was seeking. It was a small wooden villa, and he was struck by its attractive and clean appearance; it stood ina pleasant little garden, full of flowers. The windows looking on thestreet were open, and the sound of a voice, reading aloud or makinga speech, came through them. It rose at times to a shout, and wasinterrupted occasionally by bursts of laughter. 

Prince Muishkin entered the court-yard, and ascended the steps. A cookwith her sleeves turned up to the elbows opened the door. The visitorasked if Mr. Lebedeff were at home. 

"He is in there, " said she, pointing to the salon. 

The room had a blue wall-paper, and was well, almost pretentiously, furnished, with its round table, its divan, and its bronze clock undera glass shade. There was a narrow pier-glass against the wall, and achandelier adorned with lustres hung by a bronze chain from the ceiling. 

When the prince entered, Lebedeff was standing in the middle of theroom, his back to the door. He was in his shirt-sleeves, on account ofthe extreme heat, and he seemed to have just reached the peroration ofhis speech, and was impressively beating his breast. 

His audience consisted of a youth of about fifteen years of age with aclever face, who had a book in his hand, though he was not reading; ayoung lady of twenty, in deep mourning, stood near him with an infant inher arms; another girl of thirteen, also in black, was laughing loudly, her mouth wide open; and on the sofa lay a handsome young man, with black hair and eyes, and a suspicion of beard and whiskers. Hefrequently interrupted the speaker and argued with him, to the greatdelight of the others. 

"Lukian Timofeyovitch! Lukian Timofeyovitch! Here's someone to see you!Look here!. . . A gentleman to speak to you!. . . Well, it's not my fault!"and the cook turned and went away red with anger. 

Lebedeff started, and at sight of the prince stood like a statue for amoment. Then he moved up to him with an ingratiating smile, but stoppedshort again. 

"Prince! ex-ex-excellency!" he stammered. Then suddenly he ran towardsthe girl with the infant, a movement so unexpected by her that shestaggered and fell back, but next moment he was threatening the otherchild, who was standing, still laughing, in the doorway. She screamed, and ran towards the kitchen. Lebedeff stamped his foot angrily;then, seeing the prince regarding him with amazement, he murmuredapologetically--"Pardon to show respect!. . . He-he!"

"You are quite wrong. . . " began the prince. 

"At once. . . At once. . . In one moment!"

He rushed like a whirlwind from the room, and Muishkin lookedinquiringly at the others. 

They were all laughing, and the guest joined in the chorus. 

"He has gone to get his coat, " said the boy. 

"How annoying!" exclaimed the prince. "I thought. . . Tell me, is he. . . "

"You think he is drunk?" cried the young man on the sofa. "Not in theleast. He's only had three or four small glasses, perhaps five; but whatis that? The usual thing!"

As the prince opened his mouth to answer, he was interrupted by thegirl, whose sweet face wore an expression of absolute frankness. 

"He never drinks much in the morning; if you have come to talk businesswith him, do it now. It is the best time. He sometimes comes back drunkin the evening; but just now he passes the greater part of the eveningin tears, and reads passages of Holy Scripture aloud, because our motherdied five weeks ago. "

"No doubt he ran off because he did not know what to say to you, "said the youth on the divan. "I bet he is trying to cheat you, and isthinking how best to do it. "

Just then Lebedeff returned, having put on his coat. 

"Five weeks!" said he, wiping his eyes. "Only five weeks! Poor orphans!"

"But why wear a coat in holes, " asked the girl, "when your new one ishanging behind the door? Did you not see it?"

"Hold your tongue, dragon-fly!" he scolded. "What a plague you are!" Hestamped his foot irritably, but she only laughed, and answered:

"Are you trying to frighten me? I am not Tania, you know, and I don'tintend to run away. Look, you are waking Lubotchka, and she will haveconvulsions again. Why do you shout like that?"

"Well, well! I won't again, " said the master of the house his anxietygetting the better of his temper. He went up to his daughter, and lookedat the child in her arms, anxiously making the sign of the cross overher three times. "God bless her! God bless her!" he cried with emotion. "This little creature is my daughter Luboff, " addressing the prince. "Mywife, Helena, died--at her birth; and this is my big daughter Vera, inmourning, as you see; and this, this, oh, this pointing to the young manon the divan. . . 

"Well, go on! never mind me!" mocked the other. "Don't be afraid!"

"Excellency! Have you read that account of the murder of the Zemarinfamily, in the newspaper?" cried Lebedeff, all of a sudden. 

"Yes, " said Muishkin, with some surprise. 

"Well, that is the murderer! It is he--in fact--"

"What do you mean?" asked the visitor. 

"I am speaking allegorically, of course; but he will be the murderer ofa Zemarin family in the future. He is getting ready. . . . "

They all laughed, and the thought crossed the prince's mind that perhapsLebedeff was really trifling in this way because he foresaw inconvenientquestions, and wanted to gain time. 

"He is a traitor! a conspirator!" shouted Lebedeff, who seemed to havelost all control over himself. "A monster! a slanderer! Ought I to treathim as a nephew, the son of my sister Anisia?"

"Oh! do be quiet! You must be drunk! He has taken it into his head toplay the lawyer, prince, and he practices speechifying, and is alwaysrepeating his eloquent pleadings to his children. And who do you thinkwas his last client? An old woman who had been robbed of five hundredroubles, her all, by some rogue of a usurer, besought him to take upher case, instead of which he defended the usurer himself, a Jew namedZeidler, because this Jew promised to give him fifty roubles. . . . "

"It was to be fifty if I won the case, only five if I lost, " interruptedLebedeff, speaking in a low tone, a great contrast to his earliermanner. 

"Well! naturally he came to grief: the law is not administered as itused to be, and he only got laughed at for his pains. But he was muchpleased with himself in spite of that. 'Most learned judge!' said he, 'picture this unhappy man, crippled by age and infirmities, who gainshis living by honourable toil--picture him, I repeat, robbed of his all, of his last mouthful; remember, I entreat you, the words of that learnedlegislator, "Let mercy and justice alike rule the courts of law. "' Now, would you believe it, excellency, every morning he recites thisspeech to us from beginning to end, exactly as he spoke it before themagistrate. To-day we have heard it for the fifth time. He was juststarting again when you arrived, so much does he admire it. He is nowpreparing to undertake another case. I think, by the way, that you arePrince Muishkin? Colia tells me you are the cleverest man he has everknown. . . . "

"The cleverest in the world, " interrupted his uncle hastily. 

"I do not pay much attention to that opinion, " continued the young mancalmly. "Colia is very fond of you, but he, " pointing to Lebedeff, "isflattering you. I can assure you I have no intention of flattering you, or anyone else, but at least you have some common-sense. Well, will youjudge between us? Shall we ask the prince to act as arbitrator?" he wenton, addressing his uncle. 

"I am so glad you chanced to come here, prince. "

"I agree, " said Lebedeff, firmly, looking round involuntarily at hisdaughter, who had come nearer, and was listening attentively to theconversation. 

"What is it all about?" asked the prince, frowning. His head ached, andhe felt sure that Lebedeff was trying to cheat him in some way, and onlytalking to put off the explanation that he had come for. 

"I will tell you all the story. I am his nephew; he did speak the truththere, although he is generally telling lies. I am at the University, and have not yet finished my course. I mean to do so, and I shall, forI have a determined character. I must, however, find something to dofor the present, and therefore I have got employment on the railway attwenty-four roubles a month. I admit that my uncle has helped me onceor twice before. Well, I had twenty roubles in my pocket, and I gambledthem away. Can you believe that I should be so low, so base, as to losemoney in that way?"

"And the man who won it is a rogue, a rogue whom you ought not to havepaid!" cried Lebedeff. 

"Yes, he is a rogue, but I was obliged to pay him, " said the young man. "As to his being a rogue, he is assuredly that, and I am not saying itbecause he beat you. He is an ex-lieutenant, prince, dismissed from theservice, a teacher of boxing, and one of Rogojin's followers. They areall lounging about the pavements now that Rogojin has turned them off. Of course, the worst of it is that, knowing he was a rascal, and acard-sharper, I none the less played palki with him, and risked my lastrouble. To tell the truth, I thought to myself, 'If I lose, I will goto my uncle, and I am sure he will not refuse to help me. ' Now that wasbase-cowardly and base!"

"That is so, " observed Lebedeff quietly; "cowardly and base. "

"Well, wait a bit, before you begin to triumph, " said the nephewviciously; for the words seemed to irritate him. "He is delighted! Icame to him here and told him everything: I acted honourably, for I didnot excuse myself. I spoke most severely of my conduct, as everyone herecan witness. But I must smarten myself up before I take up my new post, for I am really like a tramp. Just look at my boots! I cannot possiblyappear like this, and if I am not at the bureau at the time appointed, the job will be given to someone else; and I shall have to try foranother. Now I only beg for fifteen roubles, and I give my word thatI will never ask him for anything again. I am also ready to promise torepay my debt in three months' time, and I will keep my word, even if Ihave to live on bread and water. My salary will amount to seventy-fiveroubles in three months. The sum I now ask, added to what I haveborrowed already, will make a total of about thirty-five roubles, soyou see I shall have enough to pay him and confound him! if he wantsinterest, he shall have that, too! Haven't I always paid back the moneyhe lent me before? Why should he be so mean now? He grudges my havingpaid that lieutenant; there can be no other reason! That's the kind heis--a dog in the manger!"

"And he won't go away!" cried Lebedeff. "He has installed himself here, and here he remains!"

"I have told you already, that I will not go away until I have got whatI ask. Why are you smiling, prince? You look as if you disapproved ofme. "

"I am not smiling, but I really think you are in the wrong, somewhat, "replied Muishkin, reluctantly. 

"Don't shuffle! Say plainly that you think that I am quite wrong, without any 'somewhat'! Why 'somewhat'?"

"I will say you are quite wrong, if you wish. "

"If I wish! That's good, I must say! Do you think I am deceived as tothe flagrant impropriety of my conduct? I am quite aware that his moneyis his own, and that my action--As much like an attempt at extortion. But you-you don't know what life is! If people don't learn byexperience, they never understand. They must be taught. My intentionsare perfectly honest; on my conscience he will lose nothing, and I willpay back the money with interest. Added to which he has had the moralsatisfaction of seeing me disgraced. What does he want more? and whatis he good for if he never helps anyone? Look what he does himself! justask him about his dealings with others, how he deceives people! How didhe manage to buy this house? You may cut off my head if he has not letyou in for something-and if he is not trying to cheat you again. You aresmiling. You don't believe me?"

"It seems to me that all this has nothing to do with your affairs, "remarked the prince. 

"I have lain here now for three days, " cried the young man withoutnoticing, "and I have seen a lot! Fancy! he suspects his daughter, thatangel, that orphan, my cousin--he suspects her, and every evening hesearches her room, to see if she has a lover hidden in it! He comeshere too on tiptoe, creeping softly--oh, so softly--and looks under thesofa--my bed, you know. He is mad with suspicion, and sees a thief inevery corner. He runs about all night long; he was up at least seventimes last night, to satisfy himself that the windows and doors werebarred, and to peep into the oven. That man who appears in court forscoundrels, rushes in here in the night and prays, lying prostrate, banging his head on the ground by the half-hour--and for whom do youthink he prays? Who are the sinners figuring in his drunken petitions?I have heard him with my own ears praying for the repose of the soulof the Countess du Barry! Colia heard it too. He is as mad as a Marchhare!"

"You hear how he slanders me, prince, " said Lebedeff, almost besidehimself with rage. "I may be a drunkard, an evil-doer, a thief, but atleast I can say one thing for myself. He does not know--how should he, mocker that he is?--that when he came into the world it was I who washedhim, and dressed him in his swathing-bands, for my sister Anisia hadlost her husband, and was in great poverty. I was very little betteroff than she, but I sat up night after night with her, and nursed bothmother and child; I used to go downstairs and steal wood for them fromthe house-porter. How often did I sing him to sleep when I was half deadwith hunger! In short, I was more than a father to him, and now--now hejeers at me! Even if I did cross myself, and pray for the repose of thesoul of the Comtesse du Barry, what does it matter? Three days ago, for the first time in my life, I read her biography in an historicaldictionary. Do you know who she was? You there!" addressing his nephew. "Speak! do you know?"

"Of course no one knows anything about her but you, " muttered the youngman in a would-be jeering tone. 

"She was a Countess who rose from shame to reign like a Queen. AnEmpress wrote to her, with her own hand, as 'Ma chere cousine. ' Ata lever-du-roi one morning (do you know what a lever-du-roi was?)--aCardinal, a Papal legate, offered to put on her stockings; a high andholy person like that looked on it as an honour! Did you know this? Isee by your expression that you did not! Well, how did she die? Answer!"

"Oh! do stop--you are too absurd!"

"This is how she died. After all this honour and glory, after havingbeen almost a Queen, she was guillotined by that butcher, Samson. Shewas quite innocent, but it had to be done, for the satisfaction of thefishwives of Paris. She was so terrified, that she did not understandwhat was happening. But when Samson seized her head, and pushed herunder the knife with his foot, she cried out: 'Wait a moment! wait amoment, monsieur!' Well, because of that moment of bitter suffering, perhaps the Saviour will pardon her other faults, for one cannot imaginea greater agony. As I read the story my heart bled for her. And whatdoes it matter to you, little worm, if I implored the Divine mercy forher, great sinner as she was, as I said my evening prayer? I might havedone it because I doubted if anyone had ever crossed himself for hersake before. It may be that in the other world she will rejoice to thinkthat a sinner like herself has cried to heaven for the salvation of hersoul. Why are you laughing? You believe nothing, atheist! And your storywas not even correct! If you had listened to what I was saying, youwould have heard that I did not only pray for the Comtesse du Barry. Isaid, 'Oh Lord! give rest to the soul of that great sinner, the Comtessedu Barry, and to all unhappy ones like her. ' You see that is quite adifferent thing, for how many sinners there are, how many women, whohave passed through the trials of this life, are now suffering andgroaning in purgatory! I prayed for you, too, in spite of your insolenceand impudence, also for your fellows, as it seems that you claim to knowhow I pray. . . "

"Oh! that's enough in all conscience! Pray for whom you choose, and thedevil take them and you! We have a scholar here; you did not know that, prince?" he continued, with a sneer. "He reads all sorts of books andmemoirs now. "

"At any rate, your uncle has a kind heart, " remarked the prince, whoreally had to force himself to speak to the nephew, so much did hedislike him. 

"Oh, now you are going to praise him! He will be set up! He puts hishand on his heart, and he is delighted! I never said he was a manwithout heart, but he is a rascal--that's the pity of it. And then, heis addicted to drink, and his mind is unhinged, like that of mostpeople who have taken more than is good for them for years. He loves hischildren--oh, I know that well enough! He respected my aunt, his latewife. . . And he even has a sort of affection for me. He has remembered mein his will. "

"I shall leave you nothing!" exclaimed his uncle angrily. 

"Listen to me, Lebedeff, " said the prince in a decided voice, turninghis back on the young man. "I know by experience that when you choose, you can be business-like. . I. I have very little time to spare, andif you. . . By the way--excuse me--what is your Christian name? I haveforgotten it. "

"Ti-Ti-Timofey. "

"And?"

"Lukianovitch. "

Everyone in the room began to laugh. 

"He is telling lies!" cried the nephew. "Even now he cannot speakthe truth. He is not called Timofey Lukianovitch, prince, but LukianTimofeyovitch. Now do tell us why you must needs lie about it? Lukian orTimofey, it is all the same to you, and what difference can it make tothe prince? He tells lies without the least necessity, simply by forceof habit, I assure you. "

"Is that true?" said the prince impatiently. 

"My name really is Lukian Timofeyovitch, " acknowledged Lebedeff, lowering his eyes, and putting his hand on his heart. 

"Well, for God's sake, what made you say the other?"

"To humble myself, " murmured Lebedeff. 

"What on earth do you mean? Oh I if only I knew where Colia was at thismoment!" cried the prince, standing up, as if to go. 

"I can tell you all about Colia, " said the young man

"Oh! no, no!" said Lebedeff, hurriedly. 

"Colia spent the night here, and this morning went after his father, whom you let out of prison by paying his debts--Heaven only knows why!Yesterday the general promised to come and lodge here, but he did notappear. Most probably he slept at the hotel close by. No doubt Coliais there, unless he has gone to Pavlofsk to see the Epanchins. He had alittle money, and was intending to go there yesterday. He must be eitherat the hotel or at Pavlofsk. "

"At Pavlofsk! He is at Pavlofsk, undoubtedly!" interrupted Lebedeff. . . . "But come--let us go into the garden--we will have coffee there. . . . " AndLebedeff seized the prince's arm, and led him from the room. They wentacross the yard, and found themselves in a delightful little gardenwith the trees already in their summer dress of green, thanks to theunusually fine weather. Lebedeff invited his guest to sit down on agreen seat before a table of the same colour fixed in the earth, andtook a seat facing him. In a few minutes the coffee appeared, and theprince did not refuse it. The host kept his eyes fixed on Muishkin, withan expression of passionate servility. 

"I knew nothing about your home before, " said the prince absently, as ifhe were thinking of something else. 

"Poor orphans, " began Lebedeff, his face assuming a mournful air, but hestopped short, for the other looked at him inattentively, as if he hadalready forgotten his own remark. They waited a few minutes in silence, while Lebedeff sat with his eyes fixed mournfully on the young man'sface. 

"Well!" said the latter, at last rousing himself. "Ah! yes! You know whyI came, Lebedeff. Your letter brought me. Speak! Tell me all about it. "

The clerk, rather confused, tried to say something, hesitated, began tospeak, and again stopped. The prince looked at him gravely. 

"I think I understand, Lukian Timofeyovitch: you were not sure that Ishould come. You did not think I should start at the first word fromyou, and you merely wrote to relieve your conscience. However, yousee now that I have come, and I have had enough of trickery. Give upserving, or trying to serve, two masters. Rogojin has been here thesethree weeks. Have you managed to sell her to him as you did before? Tellme the truth. "

"He discovered everything, the monster. . . Himself. . . . . . "

"Don't abuse him; though I dare say you have something to complainof. . . . "

"He beat me, he thrashed me unmercifully!" replied Lebedeff vehemently. "He set a dog on me in Moscow, a bloodhound, a terrible beast thatchased me all down the street. "

"You seem to take me for a child, Lebedeff. Tell me, is it a fact thatshe left him while they were in Moscow?"

"Yes, it is a fact, and this time, let me tell you, on the very eve oftheir marriage! It was a question of minutes when she slipped off toPetersburg. She came to me directly she arrived--'Save me, Lukian! findme some refuge, and say nothing to the prince!' She is afraid of you, even more than she is of him, and in that she shows her wisdom!" AndLebedeff slily put his finger to his brow as he said the last words. 

"And now it is you who have brought them together again?"

"Excellency, how could I, how could I prevent it?"

"That will do. I can find out for myself. Only tell me, where is shenow? At his house? With him?"

"Oh no! Certainly not! 'I am free, ' she says; you know how she insistson that point. 'I am entirely free. ' She repeats it over and over again. She is living in Petersburgskaia, with my sister-in-law, as I told youin my letter. "

"She is there at this moment?"

"Yes, unless she has gone to Pavlofsk: the fine weather may have temptedher, perhaps, into the country, with Daria Alexeyevna. 'I am quitefree, ' she says. Only yesterday she boasted of her freedom to NicolaiArdalionovitch--a bad sign, " added Lebedeff, smiling. 

"Colia goes to see her often, does he not?"

"He is a strange boy, thoughtless, and inclined to be indiscreet. "

"Is it long since you saw her?"

"I go to see her every day, every day. "

"Then you were there yesterday?"

"N-no: I have not been these three last days. "

"It is a pity you have taken too much wine, Lebedeff I want to ask yousomething. . . But. . . "

"All right! all right! I am not drunk, " replied the clerk, preparing tolisten. 

"Tell me, how was she when you left her?"

"She is a woman who is seeking. . . "

"Seeking?"

"She seems always to be searching about, as if she had lost something. The mere idea of her coming marriage disgusts her; she looks on it asan insult. She cares as much for HIM as for a piece of orange-peel--notmore. Yet I am much mistaken if she does not look on him with fear andtrembling. She forbids his name to be mentioned before her, and theyonly meet when unavoidable. He understands, well enough! But it must begone through She is restless, mocking, deceitful, violent. . . . "

"Deceitful and violent?"

"Yes, violent. I can give you a proof of it. A few days ago she triedto pull my hair because I said something that annoyed her. I tried tosoothe her by reading the Apocalypse aloud. "

"What?" exclaimed the prince, thinking he had not heard aright. 

"By reading the Apocalypse. The lady has a restless imagination, he-he!She has a liking for conversation on serious subjects, of any kind; infact they please her so much, that it flatters her to discuss them. Nowfor fifteen years at least I have studied the Apocalypse, and she agreeswith me in thinking that the present is the epoch represented by thethird horse, the black one whose rider holds a measure in his hand. Itseems to me that everything is ruled by measure in our century; all menare clamouring for their rights; 'a measure of wheat for a penny, andthree measures of barley for a penny. ' But, added to this, men desirefreedom of mind and body, a pure heart, a healthy life, and all God'sgood gifts. Now by pleading their rights alone, they will never attainall this, so the white horse, with his rider Death, comes next, andis followed by Hell. We talked about this matter when we met, and itimpressed her very much. "

"Do you believe all this?" asked Muishkin, looking curiously at hiscompanion. 

"I both believe it and explain it. I am but a poor creature, a beggar, an atom in the scale of humanity. Who has the least respect forLebedeff? He is a target for all the world, the butt of any fool whochooses to kick him. But in interpreting revelation I am the equalof anyone, great as he may be! Such is the power of the mind andthe spirit. I have made a lordly personage tremble, as he sat in hisarmchair. . . Only by talking to him of things concerning the spirit. Two years ago, on Easter Eve, His Excellency Nil Alexeyovitch, whosesubordinate I was then, wished to hear what I had to say, and sent amessage by Peter Zakkaritch to ask me to go to his private room. 'Theytell me you expound the prophecies relating to Antichrist, ' said he, when we were alone. 'Is that so?' 'Yes, ' I answered unhesitatingly, andI began to give some comments on the Apostle's allegorical vision. Atfirst he smiled, but when we reached the numerical computations andcorrespondences, he trembled, and turned pale. Then he begged me toclose the book, and sent me away, promising to put my name on the rewardlist. That took place as I said on the eve of Easter, and eight dayslater his soul returned to God. "

"What?"

"It is the truth. One evening after dinner he stumbled as he steppedout of his carriage. He fell, and struck his head on the curb, and diedimmediately. He was seventy-three years of age, and had a red face, andwhite hair; he deluged himself with scent, and was always smiling likea child. Peter Zakkaritch recalled my interview with him, and said, 'YOUFORETOLD HIS DEATH. '"

The prince rose from his seat, and Lebedeff, surprised to see hisguest preparing to go so soon, remarked: "You are not interested?" in arespectful tone. 

"I am not very well, and my head aches. Doubtless the effect of thejourney, " replied the prince, frowning. 

"You should go into the country, " said Lebedeff timidly. 

The prince seemed to be considering the suggestion. 

"You see, I am going into the country myself in three days, with mychildren and belongings. The little one is delicate; she needs changeof air; and during our absence this house will be done up. I am going toPavlofsk. "

"You are going to Pavlofsk too?" asked the prince sharply. "Everybodyseems to be going there. Have you a house in that neighbourhood?"

"I don't know of many people going to Pavlofsk, and as for the house, Ivan Ptitsin has let me one of his villas rather cheaply. It is apleasant place, lying on a hill surrounded by trees, and one can livethere for a mere song. There is good music to be heard, so no wonder itis popular. I shall stay in the lodge. As to the villa itself. . . "

"Have you let it?"

"N-no--not exactly. "

"Let it to me, " said the prince. 

Now this was precisely what Lebedeff had made up his mind to do in thelast three minutes. Not that he had any difficulty in finding a tenant;in fact the house was occupied at present by a chance visitor, who hadtold Lebedeff that he would perhaps take it for the summer months. Theclerk knew very well that this "PERHAPS" meant "CERTAINLY, " but as hethought he could make more out of a tenant like the prince, he feltjustified in speaking vaguely about the present inhabitant's intentions. "This is quite a coincidence, " thought he, and when the subject of pricewas mentioned, he made a gesture with his hand, as if to waive away aquestion of so little importance. 

"Oh well, as you like!" said Muishkin. "I will think it over. You shalllose nothing!"

They were walking slowly across the garden. 

"But if you. . . I could. . . " stammered Lebedeff, "if. . . If you please, prince, tell you something on the subject which would interest you, I amsure. " He spoke in wheedling tones, and wriggled as he walked along. 

Muishkin stopped short. 

"Daria Alexeyevna also has a villa at Pavlofsk. "

"Well?"

"A certain person is very friendly with her, and intends to visit herpretty often. "

"Well?"

"Aglaya Ivanovna. . . "

"Oh stop, Lebedeff!" interposed Muishkin, feeling as if he had beentouched on an open wound. "That. . . That has nothing to do with me. Ishould like to know when you are going to start. The sooner the betteras far as I am concerned, for I am at an hotel. "

They had left the garden now, and were crossing the yard on their way tothe gate. 

"Well, leave your hotel at once and come here; then we can all gotogether to Pavlofsk the day after tomorrow. "

"I will think about it, " said the prince dreamily, and went off. 

The clerk stood looking after his guest, struck by his suddenabsent-mindedness. He had not even remembered to say goodbye, andLebedeff was the more surprised at the omission, as he knew byexperience how courteous the prince usually was. 

III

It was now close on twelve o'clock. 

The prince knew that if he called at the Epanchins' now he would onlyfind the general, and that the latter might probably carry him straightoff to Pavlofsk with him; whereas there was one visit he was mostanxious to make without delay. 

So at the risk of missing General Epanchin altogether, and thuspostponing his visit to Pavlofsk for a day, at least, the prince decidedto go and look for the house he desired to find. 

The visit he was about to pay was, in some respects, a risky one. He wasin two minds about it, but knowing that the house was in the Gorohovaya, not far from the Sadovaya, he determined to go in that direction, and totry to make up his mind on the way. 

Arrived at the point where the Gorohovaya crosses the Sadovaya, he wassurprised to find how excessively agitated he was. He had no idea thathis heart could beat so painfully. 

One house in the Gorohovaya began to attract his attention long beforehe reached it, and the prince remembered afterwards that he had saidto himself: "That is the house, I'm sure of it. " He came up to it quitecurious to discover whether he had guessed right, and felt that he wouldbe disagreeably impressed to find that he had actually done so. Thehouse was a large gloomy-looking structure, without the slightest claimto architectural beauty, in colour a dirty green. There are a few ofthese old houses, built towards the end of the last century, stillstanding in that part of St. Petersburg, and showing little changefrom their original form and colour. They are solidly built, and areremarkable for the thickness of their walls, and for the fewnessof their windows, many of which are covered by gratings. On theground-floor there is usually a money-changer's shop, and the ownerlives over it. Without as well as within, the houses seem inhospitableand mysterious--an impression which is difficult to explain, unless ithas something to do with the actual architectural style. These housesare almost exclusively inhabited by the merchant class. 

Arrived at the gate, the prince looked up at the legend over it, whichran:

"House of Rogojin, hereditary and honourable citizen. "

He hesitated no longer; but opened the glazed door at the bottom of theouter stairs and made his way up to the second storey. The place wasdark and gloomy-looking; the walls of the stone staircase were painteda dull red. Rogojin and his mother and brother occupied the whole ofthe second floor. The servant who opened the door to Muishkin led him, without taking his name, through several rooms and up and down manysteps until they arrived at a door, where he knocked. 

Parfen Rogojin opened the door himself. 

On seeing the prince he became deadly white, and apparently fixed to theground, so that he was more like a marble statue than a human being. Theprince had expected some surprise, but Rogojin evidently considered hisvisit an impossible and miraculous event. He stared with an expressionalmost of terror, and his lips twisted into a bewildered smile. 

"Parfen! perhaps my visit is ill-timed. I-I can go away again if youlike, " said Muishkin at last, rather embarrassed. 

"No, no; it's all right, come in, " said Parfen, recollecting himself. 

They were evidently on quite familiar terms. In Moscow they had had manyoccasions of meeting; indeed, some few of those meetings were but toovividly impressed upon their memories. They had not met now, however, for three months. 

The deathlike pallor, and a sort of slight convulsion about the lips, had not left Rogojin's face. Though he welcomed his guest, he was stillobviously much disturbed. As he invited the prince to sit down near thetable, the latter happened to turn towards him, and was startled by thestrange expression on his face. A painful recollection flashed intohis mind. He stood for a time, looking straight at Rogojin, whose eyesseemed to blaze like fire. At last Rogojin smiled, though he stilllooked agitated and shaken. 

"What are you staring at me like that for?" he muttered. "Sit down. "

The prince took a chair. 

"Parfen, " he said, "tell me honestly, did you know that I was coming toPetersburg or no?"

"Oh, I supposed you were coming, " the other replied, smilingsarcastically, "and I was right in my supposition, you see; but how was Ito know that you would come TODAY?"

A certain strangeness and impatience in his manner impressed the princevery forcibly. 

"And if you had known that I was coming today, why be so irritated aboutit?" he asked, in quiet surprise. 

"Why did you ask me?"

"Because when I jumped out of the train this morning, two eyes glared atme just as yours did a moment since. "

"Ha! and whose eyes may they have been?" said Rogojin, suspiciously. Itseemed to the prince that he was trembling. 

"I don't know; I thought it was a hallucination. I often havehallucinations nowadays. I feel just as I did five years ago when myfits were about to come on. "

"Well, perhaps it was a hallucination, I don't know, " said Parfen. 

He tried to give the prince an affectionate smile, and it seemed to thelatter as though in this smile of his something had broken, and that hecould not mend it, try as he would. 

"Shall you go abroad again then?" he asked, and suddenly added, "Do youremember how we came up in the train from Pskoff together? You and yourcloak and leggings, eh?"

And Rogojin burst out laughing, this time with unconcealed malice, asthough he were glad that he had been able to find an opportunity forgiving vent to it. 

"Have you quite taken up your quarters here?" asked the prince

"Yes, I'm at home. Where else should I go to?"

"We haven't met for some time. Meanwhile I have heard things about youwhich I should not have believed to be possible. "

"What of that? People will say anything, " said Rogojin drily. 

"At all events, you've disbanded your troop--and you are living in yourown house instead of being fast and loose about the place; that's allvery good. Is this house all yours, or joint property?"

"It is my mother's. You get to her apartments by that passage. "

"Where's your brother?"

"In the other wing. "

"Is he married?"

"Widower. Why do you want to know all this?"

The prince looked at him, but said nothing. He had suddenly relapsedinto musing, and had probably not heard the question at all. Rogojin didnot insist upon an answer, and there was silence for a few moments. 

"I guessed which was your house from a hundred yards off, " said theprince at last. 

"Why so?"

"I don't quite know. Your house has the aspect of yourself and all yourfamily; it bears the stamp of the Rogojin life; but ask me why I thinkso, and I can tell you nothing. It is nonsense, of course. I am nervousabout this kind of thing troubling me so much. I had never beforeimagined what sort of a house you would live in, and yet no sooner did Iset eyes on this one than I said to myself that it must be yours. "

"Really!" said Rogojin vaguely, not taking in what the prince meant byhis rather obscure remarks. 

The room they were now sitting in was a large one, lofty but dark, wellfurnished, principally with writing-tables and desks covered with papersand books. A wide sofa covered with red morocco evidently served Rogojinfor a bed. On the table beside which the prince had been invited to seathimself lay some books; one containing a marker where the reader hadleft off, was a volume of Solovieff's History. Some oil-paintings inworn gilded frames hung on the walls, but it was impossible to make outwhat subjects they represented, so blackened were they by smoke and age. One, a life-sized portrait, attracted the prince's attention. It showeda man of about fifty, wearing a long riding-coat of German cut. He hadtwo medals on his breast; his beard was white, short and thin; his faceyellow and wrinkled, with a sly, suspicious expression in the eyes. 

"That is your father, is it not?" asked the prince. 

"Yes, it is, " replied Rogojin with an unpleasant smile, as if hehad expected his guest to ask the question, and then to make somedisagreeable remark. 

"Was he one of the Old Believers?"

"No, he went to church, but to tell the truth he really preferred theold religion. This was his study and is now mine. Why did you ask if hewere an Old Believer?"

"Are you going to be married here?"

"Ye-yes!" replied Rogojin, starting at the unexpected question. 

"Soon?"

"You know yourself it does not depend on me. "

"Parfen, I am not your enemy, and I do not intend to oppose yourintentions in any way. I repeat this to you now just as I said it to youonce before on a very similar occasion. When you were arranging for yourprojected marriage in Moscow, I did not interfere with you--you know Idid not. That first time she fled to me from you, from the very altaralmost, and begged me to 'save her from you. ' Afterwards she ran awayfrom me again, and you found her and arranged your marriage with heronce more; and now, I hear, she has run away from you and come toPetersburg. Is it true? Lebedeff wrote me to this effect, and that'swhy I came here. That you had once more arranged matters with NastasiaPhilipovna I only learned last night in the train from a friend ofyours, Zaleshoff--if you wish to know. 

"I confess I came here with an object. I wished to persuade Nastasiato go abroad for her health; she requires it. Both mind and body need achange badly. I did not intend to take her abroad myself. I was going toarrange for her to go without me. Now I tell you honestly, Parfen, if itis true that all is made up between you, I will not so much as set eyesupon her, and I will never even come to see you again. 

"You know quite well that I am telling the truth, because I have alwaysbeen frank with you. I have never concealed my own opinion from you. I have always told you that I consider a marriage between you and herwould be ruin to her. You would also be ruined, and perhaps even morehopelessly. If this marriage were to be broken off again, I admit Ishould be greatly pleased; but at the same time I have not the slightestintention of trying to part you. You may be quite easy in your mind, and you need not suspect me. You know yourself whether I was ever reallyyour rival or not, even when she ran away and came to me. 

"There, you are laughing at me--I know why you laugh. It is perfectlytrue that we lived apart from one another all the time, in differenttowns. I told you before that I did not love her with love, but withpity! You said then that you understood me; did you really understandme or not? What hatred there is in your eyes at this moment! I cameto relieve your mind, because you are dear to me also. I love youvery much, Parfen; and now I shall go away and never come back again. Goodbye. "

The prince rose. 

"Stay a little, " said Parfen, not leaving his chair and resting his headon his right hand. "I haven't seen you for a long time. "

The prince sat down again. Both were silent for a few moments. 

"When you are not with me I hate you, Lef Nicolaievitch. I have loathedyou every day of these three months since I last saw you. By heaven Ihave!" said Rogojin. "I could have poisoned you at any minute. Now, youhave been with me but a quarter of an hour, and all my malice seems tohave melted away, and you are as dear to me as ever. Stay here a littlelonger. "

"When I am with you you trust me; but as soon as my back is turned yoususpect me, " said the prince, smiling, and trying to hide his emotion. 

"I trust your voice, when I hear you speak. I quite understand that youand I cannot be put on a level, of course. "

"Why did you add that?--There! Now you are cross again, " said theprince, wondering. 

"We were not asked, you see. We were made different, with differenttastes and feelings, without being consulted. You say you love her withpity. I have no pity for her. She hates me--that's the plain truth ofthe matter. I dream of her every night, and always that she is laughingat me with another man. And so she does laugh at me. She thinks no moreof marrying me than if she were changing her shoe. Would you believe it, I haven't seen her for five days, and I daren't go near her. She asks mewhat I come for, as if she were not content with having disgraced me--"

"Disgraced you! How?"

"Just as though you didn't know! Why, she ran away from me, and went toyou. You admitted it yourself, just now. "

"But surely you do not believe that she. . . "

"That she did not disgrace me at Moscow with that officer. Zemtuznikoff?I know for certain she did, after having fixed our marriage-dayherself!"

"Impossible!" cried the prince. 

"I know it for a fact, " replied Rogojin, with conviction. 

"It is not like her, you say? My friend, that's absurd. Perhaps such anact would horrify her, if she were with you, but it is quite differentwhere I am concerned. She looks on me as vermin. Her affair with Kellerwas simply to make a laughing-stock of me. You don't know what a foolshe made of me in Moscow; and the money I spent over her! The money! themoney!"

"And you can marry her now, Parfen! What will come of it all?" said theprince, with dread in his voice. 

Rogojin gazed back gloomily, and with a terrible expression in his eyes, but said nothing. 

"I haven't been to see her for five days, " he repeated, after a slightpause. "I'm afraid of being turned out. She says she's still her ownmistress, and may turn me off altogether, and go abroad. She told methis herself, " he said, with a peculiar glance at Muishkin. "I think sheoften does it merely to frighten me. She is always laughing at me, forsome reason or other; but at other times she's angry, and won't say aword, and that's what I'm afraid of. I took her a shawl one day, thelike of which she might never have seen, although she did live in luxuryand she gave it away to her maid, Katia. Sometimes when I can keep awayno longer, I steal past the house on the sly, and once I watched at thegate till dawn--I thought something was going on--and she saw me fromthe window. She asked me what I should do if I found she had deceivedme. I said, 'You know well enough. '"

"What did she know?" cried the prince. 

"How was I to tell?" replied Rogojin, with an angry laugh. "I did mybest to catch her tripping in Moscow, but did not succeed. However, Icaught hold of her one day, and said: 'You are engaged to be marriedinto a respectable family, and do you know what sort of a woman you are?THAT'S the sort of woman you are, ' I said. "

"You told her that?"

"Yes. "

"Well, go on. "

"She said, 'I wouldn't even have you for a footman now, much less fora husband. ' 'I shan't leave the house, ' I said, 'so it doesn't matter. ''Then I shall call somebody and have you kicked out, ' she cried. So thenI rushed at her, and beat her till she was bruised all over. "

"Impossible!" cried the prince, aghast. 

"I tell you it's true, " said Rogojin quietly, but with eyes ablaze withpassion. 

"Then for a day and a half I neither slept, nor ate, nor drank, andwould not leave her. I knelt at her feet: 'I shall die here, ' I said, 'if you don't forgive me; and if you have me turned out, I shall drownmyself; because, what should I be without you now?' She was like amadwoman all that day; now she would cry; now she would threaten me witha knife; now she would abuse me. She called in Zaleshoff and Keller, and showed me to them, shamed me in their presence. 'Let's all go tothe theatre, ' she says, 'and leave him here if he won't go--it's notmy business. They'll give you some tea, Parfen Semeonovitch, while Iam away, for you must be hungry. ' She came back from the theatre alone. 'Those cowards wouldn't come, ' she said. 'They are afraid of you, andtried to frighten me, too. "He won't go away as he came, " they said, "he'll cut your throat--see if he doesn't. " Now, I shall go to mybedroom, and I shall not even lock my door, just to show you how muchI am afraid of you. You must be shown that once for all. Did you havetea?' 'No, ' I said, 'and I don't intend to. ' 'Ha, ha! you are playingoff your pride against your stomach! That sort of heroism doesn't sitwell on you, ' she said. 

"With that she did as she had said she would; she went to bed, and didnot lock her door. In the morning she came out. 'Are you quite mad?' shesaid, sharply. 'Why, you'll die of hunger like this. ' 'Forgive me, 'I said. 'No, I won't, and I won't marry you. I've said it. Surely youhaven't sat in this chair all night without sleeping?' 'I didn'tsleep, ' I said. 'H'm! how sensible of you. And are you going to have nobreakfast or dinner today?' 'I told you I wouldn't. Forgive me!' 'You'veno idea how unbecoming this sort of thing is to you, ' she said, 'it'slike putting a saddle on a cow's back. Do you think you are frighteningme? My word, what a dreadful thing that you should sit here and eat nofood! How terribly frightened I am!' She wasn't angry long, and didn'tseem to remember my offence at all. I was surprised, for she is avindictive, resentful woman--but then I thought that perhaps shedespised me too much to feel any resentment against me. And that's thetruth. 

"She came up to me and said, 'Do you know who the Pope of Rome is?''I've heard of him, ' I said. 'I suppose you've read the UniversalHistory, Parfen Semeonovitch, haven't you?' she asked. 'I've learnednothing at all, ' I said. 'Then I'll lend it to you to read. You mustknow there was a Roman Pope once, and he was very angry with a certainEmperor; so the Emperor came and neither ate nor drank, but knelt beforethe Pope's palace till he should be forgiven. And what sort of vows doyou think that Emperor was making during all those days on his knees?Stop, I'll read it to you!' Then she read me a lot of verses, where itsaid that the Emperor spent all the time vowing vengeance against thePope. 'You don't mean to say you don't approve of the poem, ParfenSemeonovitch, ' she says. 'All you have read out is perfectly true, ' sayI. 'Aha!' says she, 'you admit it's true, do you? And you are makingvows to yourself that if I marry you, you will remind me of all this, and take it out of me. ' 'I don't know, ' I say, 'perhaps I was thinkinglike that, and perhaps I was not. I'm not thinking of anything justnow. ' 'What are your thoughts, then?' 'I'm thinking that when you risefrom your chair and go past me, I watch you, and follow you with myeyes; if your dress does but rustle, my heart sinks; if you leave theroom, I remember every little word and action, and what your voicesounded like, and what you said. I thought of nothing all last night, but sat here listening to your sleeping breath, and heard you move alittle, twice. ' 'And as for your attack upon me, ' she says, 'I supposeyou never once thought of THAT?' 'Perhaps I did think of it, and perhapsnot, ' I say. And what if I don't either forgive you or marry, you''I tell you I shall go and drown myself. ' 'H'm!' she said, and thenrelapsed into silence. Then she got angry, and went out. 'I supposeyou'd murder me before you drowned yourself, though!' she cried as sheleft the room. 

"An hour later, she came to me again, looking melancholy. 'I will marryyou, Parfen Semeonovitch, ' she says, not because I'm frightened of you, but because it's all the same to me how I ruin myself. And how can I doit better? Sit down; they'll bring you some dinner directly. And if Ido marry you, I'll be a faithful wife to you--you need not doubt that. 'Then she thought a bit, and said, 'At all events, you are not a flunkey;at first, I thought you were no better than a flunkey. ' And she arrangedthe wedding and fixed the day straight away on the spot. 

"Then, in another week, she had run away again, and came here toLebedeff's; and when I found her here, she said to me, 'I'm not going torenounce you altogether, but I wish to put off the wedding a bit longeryet--just as long as I like--for I am still my own mistress; so you maywait, if you like. ' That's how the matter stands between us now. What doyou think of all this, Lef Nicolaievitch?"

"'What do you think of it yourself?" replied the prince, looking sadlyat Rogojin. 

"As if I can think anything about it! I--" He was about to say more, butstopped in despair. 

The prince rose again, as if he would leave. 

"At all events, I shall not interfere with you!" he murmured, as thoughmaking answer to some secret thought of his own. 

"I'll tell you what!" cried Rogojin, and his eyes flashed fire. "I can'tunderstand your yielding her to me like this; I don't understand it. Have you given up loving her altogether? At first you suffered badly--Iknow it--I saw it. Besides, why did you come post-haste after us? Out ofpity, eh? He, he, he!" His mouth curved in a mocking smile. 

"Do you think I am deceiving you?" asked the prince. 

"No! I trust you--but I can't understand. It seems to me that your pityis greater than my love. " A hungry longing to speak his mind out seemedto flash in the man's eyes, combined with an intense anger. 

"Your love is mingled with hatred, and therefore, when your love passes, there will be the greater misery, " said the prince. "I tell you this, Parfen--"

"What! that I'll cut her throat, you mean?"

The prince shuddered. 

"You'll hate her afterwards for all your present love, and for all thetorment you are suffering on her account now. What seems to me the mostextraordinary thing is, that she can again consent to marry you, afterall that has passed between you. When I heard the news yesterday, Icould hardly bring myself to believe it. Why, she has run twicefrom you, from the very altar rails, as it were. She must have somepresentiment of evil. What can she want with you now? Your money?Nonsense! Besides, I should think you must have made a fairly large holein your fortune already. Surely it is not because she is so very anxiousto find a husband? She could find many a one besides yourself. Anyonewould be better than you, because you will murder her, and I feel sureshe must know that but too well by now. Is it because you love her sopassionately? Indeed, that may be it. I have heard that there are womenwho want just that kind of love. . . But still. . . " The prince paused, reflectively. 

"What are you grinning at my father's portrait again for?" askedRogojin, suddenly. He was carefully observing every change in theexpression of the prince's face. 

"I smiled because the idea came into my head that if it were not forthis unhappy passion of yours you might have, and would have, becomejust such a man as your father, and that very quickly, too. You'd havesettled down in this house of yours with some silent and obedient wife. You would have spoken rarely, trusted no one, heeded no one, and thoughtof nothing but making money. "

"Laugh away! She said exactly the same, almost word for word, when shesaw my father's portrait. It's remarkable how entirely you and she areat one now-a-days. "

"What, has she been here?" asked the prince with curiosity. 

"Yes! She looked long at the portrait and asked all about my father. 'You'd be just such another, ' she said at last, and laughed. 'You havesuch strong passions, Parfen, ' she said, 'that they'd have taken you toSiberia in no time if you had not, luckily, intelligence as well. Foryou have a good deal of intelligence. ' (She said this--believe it ornot. The first time I ever heard anything of that sort from her. ) 'You'dsoon have thrown up all this rowdyism that you indulge in now, and you'dhave settled down to quiet, steady money-making, because you have littleeducation; and here you'd have stayed just like your father before you. And you'd have loved your money so that you'd amass not two million, like him, but ten million; and you'd have died of hunger on your moneybags to finish up with, for you carry everything to extremes. ' There, that's exactly word for word as she said it to me. She never talked tome like that before. She always talks nonsense and laughs when she'swith me. We went all over this old house together. 'I shall change allthis, ' I said, 'or else I'll buy a new house for the wedding. ' 'No, no!'she said, 'don't touch anything; leave it all as it is; I shall livewith your mother when I marry you. '

"I took her to see my mother, and she was as respectful and kind asthough she were her own daughter. Mother has been almost demented eversince father died--she's an old woman. She sits and bows from her chairto everyone she sees. If you left her alone and didn't feed her forthree days, I don't believe she would notice it. Well, I took her hand, and I said, 'Give your blessing to this lady, mother, she's going to bemy wife. ' So Nastasia kissed mother's hand with great feeling. 'She musthave suffered terribly, hasn't she?' she said. She saw this book herelying before me. 'What! have you begun to read Russian history?' sheasked. She told me once in Moscow, you know, that I had better getSolovieff's Russian History and read it, because I knew nothing. 'That'sgood, ' she said, 'you go on like that, reading books. I'll make youa list myself of the books you ought to read first--shall I?' She hadnever once spoken to me like this before; it was the first time I felt Icould breathe before her like a living creature. "

"I'm very, very glad to hear of this, Parfen, " said the prince, withreal feeling. "Who knows? Maybe God will yet bring you near to oneanother. "

"Never, never!" cried Rogojin, excitedly. 

"Look here, Parfen; if you love her so much, surely you must be anxiousto earn her respect? And if you do so wish, surely you may hope to? Isaid just now that I considered it extraordinary that she could still beready to marry you. Well, though I cannot yet understand it, I feel sureshe must have some good reason, or she wouldn't do it. She is sureof your love; but besides that, she must attribute SOMETHING else toyou--some good qualities, otherwise the thing would not be. What youhave just said confirms my words. You say yourself that she found itpossible to speak to you quite differently from her usual manner. Youare suspicious, you know, and jealous, therefore when anything annoyinghappens to you, you exaggerate its significance. Of course, of course, she does not think so ill of you as you say. Why, if she did, she wouldsimply be walking to death by drowning or by the knife, with her eyeswide open, when she married you. It is impossible! As if anybody wouldgo to their death deliberately!"

Rogojin listened to the prince's excited words with a bitter smile. Hisconviction was, apparently, unalterable. 

"How dreadfully you look at me, Parfen!" said the prince, with a feelingof dread. 

"Water or the knife?" said the latter, at last. "Ha, ha--that's exactlywhy she is going to marry me, because she knows for certain that theknife awaits her. Prince, can it be that you don't even yet see what'sat the root of it all?"

"I don't understand you. "

"Perhaps he really doesn't understand me! They do say that you area--you know what! She loves another--there, you can understand thatmuch! Just as I love her, exactly so she loves another man. And thatother man is--do you know who? It's you. There--you didn't know that, eh?"

"I?"

"You, you! She has loved you ever since that day, her birthday! Onlyshe thinks she cannot marry you, because it would be the ruin of you. 'Everybody knows what sort of a woman I am, ' she says. She told me allthis herself, to my very face! She's afraid of disgracing and ruiningyou, she says, but it doesn't matter about me. She can marry me allright! Notice how much consideration she shows for me!"

"But why did she run away to me, and then again from me to--"

"From you to me? Ha, ha! that's nothing! Why, she always acts as thoughshe were in a delirium now-a-days! Either she says, 'Come on, I'll marryyou! Let's have the wedding quickly!' and fixes the day, and seems in ahurry for it, and when it begins to come near she feels frightened; orelse some other idea gets into her head--goodness knows! you've seenher--you know how she goes on--laughing and crying and raving! There'snothing extraordinary about her having run away from you! She ran awaybecause she found out how dearly she loved you. She could not bear to benear you. You said just now that I had found her at Moscow, when she ranaway from you. I didn't do anything of the sort; she came to me herself, straight from you. 'Name the day--I'm ready!' she said. 'Let's havesome champagne, and go and hear the gipsies sing!' I tell you she'dhave thrown herself into the water long ago if it were not for me! Shedoesn't do it because I am, perhaps, even more dreadful to her than thewater! She's marrying me out of spite; if she marries me, I tell you, itwill be for spite!"

"But how do you, how can you--" began the prince, gazing with dread andhorror at Rogojin. 

"Why don't you finish your sentence? Shall I tell you what you werethinking to yourself just then? You were thinking, 'How can she marryhim after this? How can it possibly be permitted?' Oh, I know what youwere thinking about!"

"I didn't come here for that purpose, Parfen. That was not in my mind--"

"That may be! Perhaps you didn't COME with the idea, but the idea iscertainly there NOW! Ha, ha! well, that's enough! What are you upsetabout? Didn't you really know it all before? You astonish me!"

"All this is mere jealousy--it is some malady of yours, Parfen! Youexaggerate everything, " said the prince, excessively agitated. "What areyou doing?"

"Let go of it!" said Parfen, seizing from the prince's hand a knifewhich the latter had at that moment taken up from the table, where itlay beside the history. Parfen replaced it where it had been. 

"I seemed to know it--I felt it, when I was coming back to Petersburg, "continued the prince, "I did not want to come, I wished to forget allthis, to uproot it from my memory altogether! Well, good-bye--what isthe matter?"

He had absently taken up the knife a second time, and again Rogojinsnatched it from his hand, and threw it down on the table. It was aplain looking knife, with a bone handle, a blade about eight inches long, and broad in proportion, it did not clasp. 

Seeing that the prince was considerably struck by the fact that he hadtwice seized this knife out of his hand, Rogojin caught it up withsome irritation, put it inside the book, and threw the latter across toanother table. 

"Do you cut your pages with it, or what?" asked Muishkin, still ratherabsently, as though unable to throw off a deep preoccupation into whichthe conversation had thrown him. 

"Yes. "

"It's a garden knife, isn't it?"

"Yes. Can't one cut pages with a garden knife?"

"It's quite new. "

"Well, what of that? Can't I buy a new knife if I like?" shouted Rogojinfuriously, his irritation growing with every word. 

The prince shuddered, and gazed fixedly at Parfen. Suddenly he burst outlaughing. 

"Why, what an idea!" he said. "I didn't mean to ask you any of thesequestions; I was thinking of something quite different! But my head isheavy, and I seem so absent-minded nowadays! Well, good-bye--I can'tremember what I wanted to say--good-bye!"

"Not that way, " said Rogojin. 

"There, I've forgotten that too!"

"This way--come along--I'll show you. "

IV. 

THEY passed through the same rooms which the prince had traversed on hisarrival. In the largest there were pictures on the walls, portraits andlandscapes of little interest. Over the door, however, there was one ofstrange and rather striking shape; it was six or seven feet in length, and not more than a foot in height. It represented the Saviour justtaken from the cross. 

The prince glanced at it, but took no further notice. He moved onhastily, as though anxious to get out of the house. But Rogojin suddenlystopped underneath the picture. 

"My father picked up all these pictures very cheap at auctions, and soon, " he said; "they are all rubbish, except the one over the door, andthat is valuable. A man offered five hundred roubles for it last week. "

"Yes--that's a copy of a Holbein, " said the prince, looking at it again, "and a good copy, too, so far as I am able to judge. I saw the pictureabroad, and could not forget it--what's the matter?"

Rogojin had dropped the subject of the picture and walked on. Of coursehis strange frame of mind was sufficient to account for his conduct;but, still, it seemed queer to the prince that he should so abruptlydrop a conversation commenced by himself. Rogojin did not take anynotice of his question. 

"Lef Nicolaievitch, " said Rogojin, after a pause, during which the twowalked along a little further, "I have long wished to ask you, do youbelieve in God?"

"How strangely you speak, and how odd you look!" said the other, involuntarily. 

"I like looking at that picture, " muttered Rogojin, not noticing, apparently, that the prince had not answered his question. 

"That picture! That picture!" cried Muishkin, struck by a sudden idea. "Why, a man's faith might be ruined by looking at that picture!"

"So it is!" said Rogojin, unexpectedly. They had now reached the frontdoor. 

The prince stopped. 

"How?" he said. "What do you mean? I was half joking, and you took me upquite seriously! Why do you ask me whether I believe in God?"

"Oh, no particular reason. I meant to ask you before--many people areunbelievers nowadays, especially Russians, I have been told. You oughtto know--you've lived abroad. "

Rogojin laughed bitterly as he said these words, and opening the door, held it for the prince to pass out. Muishkin looked surprised, but wentout. The other followed him as far as the landing of the outer stairs, and shut the door behind him. They both now stood facing one another, asthough oblivious of where they were, or what they had to do next. 

"Well, good-bye!" said the prince, holding out his hand. 

"Good-bye, " said Rogojin, pressing it hard, but quite mechanically. 

The prince made one step forward, and then turned round. 

"As to faith, " he said, smiling, and evidently unwilling to leaveRogojin in this state--"as to faith, I had four curious conversationsin two days, a week or so ago. One morning I met a man in the train, andmade acquaintance with him at once. I had often heard of him as a verylearned man, but an atheist; and I was very glad of the opportunity ofconversing with so eminent and clever a person. He doesn't believe inGod, and he talked a good deal about it, but all the while it appearedto me that he was speaking OUTSIDE THE SUBJECT. And it has always struckme, both in speaking to such men and in reading their books, that theydo not seem really to be touching on that at all, though on the surfacethey may appear to do so. I told him this, but I dare say I did notclearly express what I meant, for he could not understand me. 

"That same evening I stopped at a small provincial hotel, and it sohappened that a dreadful murder had been committed there the nightbefore, and everybody was talking about it. Two peasants--elderly menand old friends--had had tea together there the night before, and wereto occupy the same bedroom. They were not drunk but one of them hadnoticed for the first time that his friend possessed a silver watchwhich he was wearing on a chain. He was by no means a thief, and was, aspeasants go, a rich man; but this watch so fascinated him that he couldnot restrain himself. He took a knife, and when his friend turned hisback, he came up softly behind, raised his eyes to heaven, crossedhimself, and saying earnestly--'God forgive me, for Christ's sake!' hecut his friend's throat like a sheep, and took the watch. "

Rogojin roared with laughter. He laughed as though he were in a sort offit. It was strange to see him laughing so after the sombre mood he hadbeen in just before. 

"Oh, I like that! That beats anything!" he cried convulsively, pantingfor breath. "One is an absolute unbeliever; the other is such athorough--going believer that he murders his friend to the tune of aprayer! Oh, prince, prince, that's too good for anything! You can't haveinvented it. It's the best thing I've heard!"

"Next morning I went out for a stroll through the town, " continued theprince, so soon as Rogojin was a little quieter, though his laughterstill burst out at intervals, "and soon observed a drunken-lookingsoldier staggering about the pavement. He came up to me and said, 'Buy my silver cross, sir! You shall have it for fourpence--it's realsilver. ' I looked, and there he held a cross, just taken off his ownneck, evidently, a large tin one, made after the Byzantine pattern. Ifished out fourpence, and put his cross on my own neck, and I could seeby his face that he was as pleased as he could be at the thought that hehad succeeded in cheating a foolish gentleman, and away he went todrink the value of his cross. At that time everything that I saw madea tremendous impression upon me. I had understood nothing about Russiabefore, and had only vague and fantastic memories of it. So I thought, 'I will wait awhile before I condemn this Judas. Only God knows what maybe hidden in the hearts of drunkards. '

"Well, I went homewards, and near the hotel I came across a poor woman, carrying a child--a baby of some six weeks old. The mother was quite agirl herself. The baby was smiling up at her, for the first time in itslife, just at that moment; and while I watched the woman she suddenlycrossed herself, oh, so devoutly! 'What is it, my good woman I askedher. (I was never but asking questions then!) Exactly as is a mother'sjoy when her baby smiles for the first time into her eyes, so is God'sjoy when one of His children turns and prays to Him for the first time, with all his heart!' This is what that poor woman said to me, almostword for word; and such a deep, refined, truly religious thought itwas--a thought in which the whole essence of Christianity was expressedin one flash--that is, the recognition of God as our Father, and ofGod's joy in men as His own children, which is the chief idea of Christ. She was a simple country-woman--a mother, it's true--and perhaps, whoknows, she may have been the wife of the drunken soldier!

"Listen, Parfen; you put a question to me just now. This is my reply. The essence of religious feeling has nothing to do with reason, oratheism, or crime, or acts of any kind--it has nothing to do with thesethings--and never had. There is something besides all this, somethingwhich the arguments of the atheists can never touch. But the principalthing, and the conclusion of my argument, is that this is most clearlyseen in the heart of a Russian. This is a conviction which I have gainedwhile I have been in this Russia of ours. Yes, Parfen! there is work tobe done; there is work to be done in this Russian world! Remember whattalks we used to have in Moscow! And I never wished to come here atall; and I never thought to meet you like this, Parfen! Well, well--good-bye--good-bye! God be with you!"

He turned and went downstairs. 

"Lef Nicolaievitch!" cried Parfen, before he had reached the nextlanding. "Have you got that cross you bought from the soldier with you?"

"Yes, I have, " and the prince stopped again. 

"Show it me, will you?"

A new fancy! The prince reflected, and then mounted the stairs oncemore. He pulled out the cross without taking it off his neck. 

"Give it to me, " said Parfen. 

"Why? do you--"

The prince would rather have kept this particular cross. 

"I'll wear it; and you shall have mine. I'll take it off at once. "

"You wish to exchange crosses? Very well, Parfen, if that's the case, I'm glad enough--that makes us brothers, you know. "

The prince took off his tin cross, Parfen his gold one, and the exchangewas made. 

Parfen was silent. With sad surprise the prince observed that the lookof distrust, the bitter, ironical smile, had still not altogether lefthis newly-adopted brother's face. At moments, at all events, it showeditself but too plainly, At last Rogojin took the prince's hand, and stood so for some moments, as though he could not make up his mind. Then he drew him along, murmuring almost inaudibly, "Come!"

They stopped on the landing, and rang the bell at a door opposite toParfen's own lodging. 

An old woman opened to them and bowed low to Parfen, who asked her somequestions hurriedly, but did not wait to hear her answer. He led theprince on through several dark, cold-looking rooms, spotlessly clean, with white covers over all the furniture. 

Without the ceremony of knocking, Parfen entered a small apartment, furnished like a drawing-room, but with a polished mahogany partitiondividing one half of it from what was probably a bedroom. In one cornerof this room sat an old woman in an arm-chair, close to the stove. Shedid not look very old, and her face was a pleasant, round one; but shewas white-haired and, as one could detect at the first glance, quitein her second childhood. She wore a black woollen dress, with a blackhandkerchief round her neck and shoulders, and a white cap with blackribbons. Her feet were raised on a footstool. Beside her sat another oldwoman, also dressed in mourning, and silently knitting a stocking; thiswas evidently a companion. They both looked as though they never brokethe silence. The first old woman, so soon as she saw Rogojin and theprince, smiled and bowed courteously several times, in token of hergratification at their visit. 

"Mother, " said Rogojin, kissing her hand, "here is my great friend, Prince Muishkin; we have exchanged crosses; he was like a real brotherto me at Moscow at one time, and did a great deal for me. Bless him, mother, as you would bless your own son. Wait a moment, let me arrangeyour hands for you. "

But the old lady, before Parfen had time to touch her, raised her righthand, and, with three fingers held up, devoutly made the sign of thecross three times over the prince. She then nodded her head kindly athim once more. 

"There, come along, Lef Nicolaievitch; that's all I brought you herefor, " said Rogojin. 

When they reached the stairs again he added:

"She understood nothing of what I said to her, and did not know what Iwanted her to do, and yet she blessed you; that shows she wished to doso herself. Well, goodbye; it's time you went, and I must go too. "

He opened his own door. 

"Well, let me at least embrace you and say goodbye, you strange fellow!"cried the prince, looking with gentle reproach at Rogojin, and advancingtowards him. But the latter had hardly raised his arms when he droppedthem again. He could not make up his mind to it; he turned away from theprince in order to avoid looking at him. He could not embrace him. 

"Don't be afraid, " he muttered, indistinctly, "though I have taken yourcross, I shall not murder you for your watch. " So saying, he laughedsuddenly, and strangely. Then in a moment his face became transfigured;he grew deadly white, his lips trembled, his eyes burned like fire. Hestretched out his arms and held the prince tightly to him, and said in astrangled voice:

"Well, take her! It's Fate! She's yours. I surrender her. . . . RememberRogojin!" And pushing the prince from him, without looking back at him, he hurriedly entered his own flat, and banged the door. 

V. 

IT was late now, nearly half-past two, and the prince did not findGeneral Epanchin at home. He left a card, and determined to look upColia, who had a room at a small hotel near. Colia was not in, but hewas informed that he might be back shortly, and had left word that if hewere not in by half-past three it was to be understood that he had goneto Pavlofsk to General Epanchin's, and would dine there. The princedecided to wait till half-past three, and ordered some dinner. Athalf-past three there was no sign of Colia. The prince waited until fouro'clock, and then strolled off mechanically wherever his feet shouldcarry him. 

In early summer there are often magnificent days in St. Petersburg--bright, hot and still. This happened to be such a day. 

For some time the prince wandered about without aim or object. He didnot know the town well. He stopped to look about him on bridges, atstreet corners. He entered a confectioner's shop to rest, once. He wasin a state of nervous excitement and perturbation; he noticed nothingand no one; and he felt a craving for solitude, to be alone with histhoughts and his emotions, and to give himself up to them passively. Heloathed the idea of trying to answer the questions that would rise upin his heart and mind. "I am not to blame for all this, " he thought tohimself, half unconsciously. 

Towards six o'clock he found himself at the station of theTsarsko-Selski railway. 

He was tired of solitude now; a new rush of feeling took hold of him, and a flood of light chased away the gloom, for a moment, from his soul. He took a ticket to Pavlofsk, and determined to get there as fast as hecould, but something stopped him; a reality, and not a fantasy, as hewas inclined to think it. He was about to take his place in a carriage, when he suddenly threw away his ticket and came out again, disturbed andthoughtful. A few moments later, in the street, he recalled somethingthat had bothered him all the afternoon. He caught himself engaged ina strange occupation which he now recollected he had taken up at oddmoments for the last few hours--it was looking about all around him forsomething, he did not know what. He had forgotten it for a while, halfan hour or so, and now, suddenly, the uneasy search had recommenced. 

But he had hardly become conscious of this curious phenomenon, whenanother recollection suddenly swam through his brain, interesting himfor the moment, exceedingly. He remembered that the last time he hadbeen engaged in looking around him for the unknown something, he wasstanding before a cutler's shop, in the window of which were exposedcertain goods for sale. He was extremely anxious now to discover whetherthis shop and these goods really existed, or whether the whole thing hadbeen a hallucination. 

He felt in a very curious condition today, a condition similar to thatwhich had preceded his fits in bygone years. 

He remembered that at such times he had been particularly absentminded, and could not discriminate between objects and persons unless heconcentrated special attention upon them. 

He remembered seeing something in the window marked at sixty copecks. Therefore, if the shop existed and if this object were really inthe window, it would prove that he had been able to concentrate hisattention on this article at a moment when, as a general rule, his absence of mind would have been too great to admit of any suchconcentration; in fact, very shortly after he had left the railwaystation in such a state of agitation. 

So he walked back looking about him for the shop, and his heart beatwith intolerable impatience. Ah! here was the very shop, and there wasthe article marked "60 cop. " "Of course, it's sixty copecks, " he thought, and certainly worth no more. " This idea amused him and he laughed. 

But it was a hysterical laugh; he was feeling terribly oppressed. Heremembered clearly that just here, standing before this window, he hadsuddenly turned round, just as earlier in the day he had turned andfound the dreadful eyes of Rogojin fixed upon him. Convinced, therefore, that in this respect at all events he had been under no delusion, heleft the shop and went on. 

This must be thought out; it was clear that there had been nohallucination at the station then, either; something had actuallyhappened to him, on both occasions; there was no doubt of it. But againa loathing for all mental exertion overmastered him; he would notthink it out now, he would put it off and think of something else. He remembered that during his epileptic fits, or rather immediatelypreceding them, he had always experienced a moment or two when his wholeheart, and mind, and body seemed to wake up to vigour and light; whenhe became filled with joy and hope, and all his anxieties seemed to beswept away for ever; these moments were but presentiments, as it were, of the one final second (it was never more than a second) in which thefit came upon him. That second, of course, was inexpressible. When hisattack was over, and the prince reflected on his symptoms, he used tosay to himself: "These moments, short as they are, when I feel suchextreme consciousness of myself, and consequently more of life thanat other times, are due only to the disease--to the sudden rupture ofnormal conditions. Therefore they are not really a higher kind of life, but a lower. " This reasoning, however, seemed to end in a paradox, and lead to the further consideration:--"What matter though it be onlydisease, an abnormal tension of the brain, if when I recall and analyzethe moment, it seems to have been one of harmony and beauty in thehighest degree--an instant of deepest sensation, overflowing withunbounded joy and rapture, ecstatic devotion, and completest life?"Vague though this sounds, it was perfectly comprehensible to Muishkin, though he knew that it was but a feeble expression of his sensations. 

That there was, indeed, beauty and harmony in those abnormal moments, that they really contained the highest synthesis of life, he could notdoubt, nor even admit the possibility of doubt. He felt that they werenot analogous to the fantastic and unreal dreams due to intoxicationby hashish, opium or wine. Of that he could judge, when the attack wasover. These instants were characterized--to define it in a word--byan intense quickening of the sense of personality. Since, in the lastconscious moment preceding the attack, he could say to himself, withfull understanding of his words: "I would give my whole life for thisone instant, " then doubtless to him it really was worth a lifetime. For the rest, he thought the dialectical part of his argument of littleworth; he saw only too clearly that the result of these ecstatic momentswas stupefaction, mental darkness, idiocy. No argument was possibleon that point. His conclusion, his estimate of the "moment, " doubtlesscontained some error, yet the reality of the sensation troubled him. What's more unanswerable than a fact? And this fact had occurred. Theprince had confessed unreservedly to himself that the feeling of intensebeatitude in that crowded moment made the moment worth a lifetime. "Ifeel then, " he said one day to Rogojin in Moscow, "I feel then as if Iunderstood those amazing words--'There shall be no more time. '" And headded with a smile: "No doubt the epileptic Mahomet refers to that samemoment when he says that he visited all the dwellings of Allah, in lesstime than was needed to empty his pitcher of water. " Yes, he had oftenmet Rogojin in Moscow, and many were the subjects they discussed. "Hetold me I had been a brother to him, " thought the prince. "He said sotoday, for the first time. "

He was sitting in the Summer Garden on a seat under a tree, and hismind dwelt on the matter. It was about seven o'clock, and the place wasempty. The stifling atmosphere foretold a storm, and the prince felt acertain charm in the contemplative mood which possessed him. He foundpleasure, too, in gazing at the exterior objects around him. All thetime he was trying to forget some thing, to escape from some idea thathaunted him; but melancholy thoughts came back, though he would sowillingly have escaped from them. He remembered suddenly how he had beentalking to the waiter, while he dined, about a recently committed murderwhich the whole town was discussing, and as he thought of it somethingstrange came over him. He was seized all at once by a violent desire, almost a temptation, against which he strove in vain. 

He jumped up and walked off as fast as he could towards the "PetersburgSide. " [One of the quarters of St. Petersburg. ] He had asked someone, alittle while before, to show him which was the Petersburg Side, on thebanks of the Neva. He had not gone there, however; and he knew verywell that it was of no use to go now, for he would certainly not findLebedeff's relation at home. He had the address, but she must certainlyhave gone to Pavlofsk, or Colia would have let him know. If he were togo now, it would merely be out of curiosity, but a sudden, new idea hadcome into his head. 

However, it was something to move on and know where he was going. Aminute later he was still moving on, but without knowing anything. Hecould no longer think out his new idea. He tried to take an interest inall he saw; in the sky, in the Neva. He spoke to some children he met. He felt his epileptic condition becoming more and more developed. Theevening was very close; thunder was heard some way off. 

The prince was haunted all that day by the face of Lebedeff's nephewwhom he had seen for the first time that morning, just as one is hauntedat times by some persistent musical refrain. By a curious associationof ideas, the young man always appeared as the murderer of whom Lebedeffhad spoken when introducing him to Muishkin. Yes, he had read somethingabout the murder, and that quite recently. Since he came to Russia, hehad heard many stories of this kind, and was interested in them. Hisconversation with the waiter, an hour ago, chanced to be on the subjectof this murder of the Zemarins, and the latter had agreed with him aboutit. He thought of the waiter again, and decided that he was no fool, buta steady, intelligent man: though, said he to himself, "God knowswhat he may really be; in a country with which one is unfamiliar it isdifficult to understand the people one meets. " He was beginning to havea passionate faith in the Russian soul, however, and what discoveries hehad made in the last six months, what unexpected discoveries! But everysoul is a mystery, and depths of mystery lie in the soul of a Russian. He had been intimate with Rogojin, for example, and a brotherlyfriendship had sprung up between them--yet did he really know him?What chaos and ugliness fills the world at times! What a self-satisfiedrascal is that nephew of Lebedeff's! "But what am I thinking, " continuedthe prince to himself. "Can he really have committed that crime? Did hekill those six persons? I seem to be confusing things. . . How strangeit all is. . . . My head goes round. . . And Lebedeff's daughter--howsympathetic and charming her face was as she held the child in her arms!What an innocent look and child-like laugh she had! It is curious that Ihad forgotten her until now. I expect Lebedeff adores her--and I reallybelieve, when I think of it, that as sure as two and two make four, heis fond of that nephew, too!"

Well, why should he judge them so hastily! Could he really say what theywere, after one short visit? Even Lebedeff seemed an enigma today. Did he expect to find him so? He had never seen him like that before. Lebedeff and the Comtesse du Barry! Good Heavens! If Rogojin shouldreally kill someone, it would not, at any rate, be such a senseless, chaotic affair. A knife made to a special pattern, and six people killedin a kind of delirium. But Rogojin also had a knife made to a specialpattern. Can it be that Rogojin wishes to murder anyone? The princebegan to tremble violently. "It is a crime on my part to imagineanything so base, with such cynical frankness. " His face reddened withshame at the thought; and then there came across him as in a flashthe memory of the incidents at the Pavlofsk station, and at the otherstation in the morning; and the question asked him by Rogojin aboutTHE EYES and Rogojin's cross, that he was even now wearing; and thebenediction of Rogojin's mother; and his embrace on the darkenedstaircase--that last supreme renunciation--and now, to find himself fullof this new "idea, " staring into shop-windows, and looking round forthings--how base he was!

Despair overmastered his soul; he would not go on, he would go back tohis hotel; he even turned and went the other way; but a moment after hechanged his mind again and went on in the old direction. 

Why, here he was on the Petersburg Side already, quite close to thehouse! Where was his "idea"? He was marching along without it now. Yes, his malady was coming back, it was clear enough; all this gloom andheaviness, all these "ideas, " were nothing more nor less than a fitcoming on; perhaps he would have a fit this very day. 

But just now all the gloom and darkness had fled, his heart felt full ofjoy and hope, there was no such thing as doubt. And yes, he hadn'tseen her for so long; he really must see her. He wished he could meetRogojin; he would take his hand, and they would go to her together. Hisheart was pure, he was no rival of Parfen's. Tomorrow, he would goand tell him that he had seen her. Why, he had only come for the solepurpose of seeing her, all the way from Moscow! Perhaps she might behere still, who knows? She might not have gone away to Pavlofsk yet. 

Yes, all this must be put straight and above-board, there must be nomore passionate renouncements, such as Rogojin's. It must all be clearas day. Cannot Rogojin's soul bear the light? He said he did not loveher with sympathy and pity; true, he added that "your pity is greaterthan my love, " but he was not quite fair on himself there. Kin! Rogojinreading a book--wasn't that sympathy beginning? Did it not show that hecomprehended his relations with her? And his story of waiting day andnight for her forgiveness? That didn't look quite like passion alone. 

And as to her face, could it inspire nothing but passion? Could herface inspire passion at all now? Oh, it inspired suffering, grief, overwhelming grief of the soul! A poignant, agonizing memory swept overthe prince's heart. 

Yes, agonizing. He remembered how he had suffered that first day when hethought he observed in her the symptoms of madness. He had almost falleninto despair. How could he have lost his hold upon her when she ran awayfrom him to Rogojin? He ought to have run after her himself, rather thanwait for news as he had done. Can Rogojin have failed to observe, upto now, that she is mad? Rogojin attributes her strangeness to othercauses, to passion! What insane jealousy! What was it he had hinted atin that suggestion of his? The prince suddenly blushed, and shuddered tohis very heart. 

But why recall all this? There was insanity on both sides. For him, theprince, to love this woman with passion, was unthinkable. It would becruel and inhuman. Yes. Rogojin is not fair to himself; he has a largeheart; he has aptitude for sympathy. When he learns the truth, and findswhat a pitiable being is this injured, broken, half-insane creature, hewill forgive her all the torment she has caused him. He will become herslave, her brother, her friend. Compassion will teach even Rogojin, it will show him how to reason. Compassion is the chief law of humanexistence. Oh, how guilty he felt towards Rogojin! And, for a few warm, hasty words spoken in Moscow, Parfen had called him "brother, " whilehe--but no, this was delirium! It would all come right! That gloomyParfen had implied that his faith was waning; he must suffer dreadfully. He said he liked to look at that picture; it was not that he likedit, but he felt the need of looking at it. Rogojin was not merely apassionate soul; he was a fighter. He was fighting for the restorationof his dying faith. He must have something to hold on to and believe, and someone to believe in. What a strange picture that of Holbein's is!Why, this is the street, and here's the house, No. 16. 

The prince rang the bell, and asked for Nastasia Philipovna. The lady ofthe house came out, and stated that Nastasia had gone to stay with DariaAlexeyevna at Pavlofsk, and might be there some days. 

Madame Filisoff was a little woman of forty, with a cunning face, andcrafty, piercing eyes. When, with an air of mystery, she asked hervisitor's name, he refused at first to answer, but in a moment hechanged his mind, and left strict instructions that it should be givento Nastasia Philipovna. The urgency of his request seemed to impressMadame Filisoff, and she put on a knowing expression, as if to say, "Youneed not be afraid, I quite understand. " The prince's name evidentlywas a great surprise to her. He stood and looked absently at her for amoment, then turned, and took the road back to his hotel. But he wentaway not as he came. A great change had suddenly come over him. He wentblindly forward; his knees shook under him; he was tormented by "ideas";his lips were blue, and trembled with a feeble, meaningless smile. Hisdemon was upon him once more. 

What had happened to him? Why was his brow clammy with drops ofmoisture, his knees shaking beneath him, and his soul oppressed with acold gloom? Was it because he had just seen these dreadful eyes again?Why, he had left the Summer Garden on purpose to see them; that had beenhis "idea. " He had wished to assure himself that he would see them oncemore at that house. Then why was he so overwhelmed now, having seen themas he expected? just as though he had not expected to see them! Yes, they were the very same eyes; and no doubt about it. The same that hehad seen in the crowd that morning at the station, the same that hehad surprised in Rogojin's rooms some hours later, when the latter hadreplied to his inquiry with a sneering laugh, "Well, whose eyes werethey?" Then for the third time they had appeared just as he was gettinginto the train on his way to see Aglaya. He had had a strong impulse torush up to Rogojin, and repeat his words of the morning "Whose eyesare they?" Instead he had fled from the station, and knew nothing more, until he found himself gazing into the window of a cutler's shop, andwondering if a knife with a staghorn handle would cost more than sixtycopecks. And as the prince sat dreaming in the Summer Garden under alime-tree, a wicked demon had come and whispered in his car: "Rogojinhas been spying upon you and watching you all the morning in a frenzyof desperation. When he finds you have not gone to Pavlofsk--a terriblediscovery for him--he will surely go at once to that house in PetersburgSide, and watch for you there, although only this morning you gaveyour word of honour not to see HER, and swore that you had not come toPetersburg for that purpose. " And thereupon the prince had hastened offto that house, and what was there in the fact that he had met Rogojinthere? He had only seen a wretched, suffering creature, whose state ofmind was gloomy and miserable, but most comprehensible. In the morningRogojin had seemed to be trying to keep out of the way; but at thestation this afternoon he had stood out, he had concealed himself, indeed, less than the prince himself; at the house, now, he had stoodfifty yards off on the other side of the road, with folded hands, watching, plainly in view and apparently desirous of being seen. He hadstood there like an accuser, like a judge, not like a--a what?

And why had not the prince approached him and spoken to him, insteadof turning away and pretending he had seen nothing, although their eyesmet? (Yes, their eyes had met, and they had looked at each other. ) Why, he had himself wished to take Rogojin by the hand and go in together, hehad himself determined to go to him on the morrow and tell him that hehad seen her, he had repudiated the demon as he walked to the house, andhis heart had been full of joy. 

Was there something in the whole aspect of the man, today, sufficientto justify the prince's terror, and the awful suspicions of his demon?Something seen, but indescribable, which filled him with dreadfulpresentiments? Yes, he was convinced of it--convinced of what? (Oh, howmean and hideous of him to feel this conviction, this presentiment! Howhe blamed himself for it!) "Speak if you dare, and tell me, what is thepresentiment?" he repeated to himself, over and over again. "Put it intowords, speak out clearly and distinctly. Oh, miserable coward that Iam!" The prince flushed with shame for his own baseness. "How shall Iever look this man in the face again? My God, what a day! And what anightmare, what a nightmare!"

There was a moment, during this long, wretched walk back from thePetersburg Side, when the prince felt an irresistible desire to gostraight to Rogojin's, wait for him, embrace him with tears of shame andcontrition, and tell him of his distrust, and finish with it--once forall. 

But here he was back at his hotel. 

How often during the day he had thought of this hotel with loathing--itscorridor, its rooms, its stairs. How he had dreaded coming back to it, for some reason. 

"What a regular old woman I am today, " he had said to himself each time, with annoyance. "I believe in every foolish presentiment that comes intomy head. "

He stopped for a moment at the door; a great flush of shame came overhim. "I am a coward, a wretched coward, " he said, and moved forwardagain; but once more he paused. 

Among all the incidents of the day, one recurred to his mind to theexclusion of the rest; although now that his self-control was regained, and he was no longer under the influence of a nightmare, he was ableto think of it calmly. It concerned the knife on Rogojin's table. "Whyshould not Rogojin have as many knives on his table as he chooses?"thought the prince, wondering at his suspicions, as he had done when hefound himself looking into the cutler's window. "What could it have todo with me?" he said to himself again, and stopped as if rooted to theground by a kind of paralysis of limb such as attacks people under thestress of some humiliating recollection. 

The doorway was dark and gloomy at any time; but just at this momentit was rendered doubly so by the fact that the thunder-storm had justbroken, and the rain was coming down in torrents. 

And in the semi-darkness the prince distinguished a man standing closeto the stairs, apparently waiting. 

There was nothing particularly significant in the fact that a man wasstanding back in the doorway, waiting to come out or go upstairs; butthe prince felt an irresistible conviction that he knew this man, andthat it was Rogojin. The man moved on up the stairs; a moment later theprince passed up them, too. His heart froze within him. "In a minute ortwo I shall know all, " he thought. 

The staircase led to the first and second corridors of the hotel, alongwhich lay the guests' bedrooms. As is often the case in Petersburghouses, it was narrow and very dark, and turned around a massive stonecolumn. 

On the first landing, which was as small as the necessary turn of thestairs allowed, there was a niche in the column, about half a yard wide, and in this niche the prince felt convinced that a man stood concealed. He thought he could distinguish a figure standing there. He would passby quickly and not look. He took a step forward, but could bear theuncertainty no longer and turned his head. 

The eyes--the same two eyes--met his! The man concealed in the niche hadalso taken a step forward. For one second they stood face to face. 

Suddenly the prince caught the man by the shoulder and twisted him roundtowards the light, so that he might see his face more clearly. 

Rogojin's eyes flashed, and a smile of insanity distorted hiscountenance. His right hand was raised, and something glittered in it. The prince did not think of trying to stop it. All he could rememberafterwards was that he seemed to have called out:

"Parfen! I won't believe it. "

Next moment something appeared to burst open before him: a wonderfulinner light illuminated his soul. This lasted perhaps half a second, yethe distinctly remembered hearing the beginning of the wail, the strange, dreadful wail, which burst from his lips of its own accord, and which noeffort of will on his part could suppress. 

Next moment he was absolutely unconscious; black darkness blotted outeverything. 

He had fallen in an epileptic fit. 

*****

As is well known, these fits occur instantaneously. The face, especiallythe eyes, become terribly disfigured, convulsions seize the limbs, aterrible cry breaks from the sufferer, a wail from which everythinghuman seems to be blotted out, so that it is impossible to believe thatthe man who has just fallen is the same who emitted the dreadful cry. It seems more as though some other being, inside the stricken one, had cried. Many people have borne witness to this impression; and manycannot behold an epileptic fit without a feeling of mysterious terrorand dread. 

Such a feeling, we must suppose, overtook Rogojin at this moment, andsaved the prince's life. Not knowing that it was a fit, and seeinghis victim disappear head foremost into the darkness, hearing his headstrike the stone steps below with a crash, Rogojin rushed downstairs, skirting the body, and flung himself headlong out of the hotel, like araving madman. 

The prince's body slipped convulsively down the steps till it rested atthe bottom. Very soon, in five minutes or so, he was discovered, and acrowd collected around him. 

A pool of blood on the steps near his head gave rise to grave fears. Wasit a case of accident, or had there been a crime? It was, however, soonrecognized as a case of epilepsy, and identification and proper measuresfor restoration followed one another, owing to a fortunate circumstance. Colia Ivolgin had come back to his hotel about seven o'clock, owing toa sudden impulse which made him refuse to dine at the Epanchins', and, finding a note from the prince awaiting him, had sped away to thelatter's address. Arrived there, he ordered a cup of tea and sat sippingit in the coffee-room. While there he heard excited whispers of someonejust found at the bottom of the stairs in a fit; upon which he hadhurried to the spot, with a presentiment of evil, and at once recognizedthe prince. 

The sufferer was immediately taken to his room, and though he partiallyregained consciousness, he lay long in a semi-dazed condition. 

The doctor stated that there was no danger to be apprehended from thewound on the head, and as soon as the prince could understand whatwas going on around him, Colia hired a carriage and took him awayto Lebedeff's. There he was received with much cordiality, and thedeparture to the country was hastened on his account. Three days laterthey were all at Pavlofsk. 

VI. 

LEBEDEFF'S country-house was not large, but it was pretty andconvenient, especially the part which was let to the prince. 

A row of orange and lemon trees and jasmines, planted in green tubs, stood on the fairly wide terrace. According to Lebedeff, these treesgave the house a most delightful aspect. Some were there when he boughtit, and he was so charmed with the effect that he promptly added totheir number. When the tubs containing these plants arrived at the villaand were set in their places, Lebedeff kept running into the street toenjoy the view of the house, and every time he did so the rent to bedemanded from the future tenant went up with a bound. 

This country villa pleased the prince very much in his state of physicaland mental exhaustion. On the day that they left for Pavlofsk, that isthe day after his attack, he appeared almost well, though in reality hefelt very far from it. The faces of those around him for the last threedays had made a pleasant impression. He was pleased to see, not onlyColia, who had become his inseparable companion, but Lebedeff himselfand all the family, except the nephew, who had left the house. He wasalso glad to receive a visit from General Ivolgin, before leaving St. Petersburg. 

It was getting late when the party arrived at Pavlofsk, but severalpeople called to see the prince, and assembled in the verandah. Ganiawas the first to arrive. He had grown so pale and thin that the princecould hardly recognize him. Then came Varia and Ptitsin, who wererusticating in the neighbourhood. As to General Ivolgin, he scarcelybudged from Lebedeff's house, and seemed to have moved to Pavlofsk withhim. Lebedeff did his best to keep Ardalion Alexandrovitch by him, andto prevent him from invading the prince's quarters. He chatted withhim confidentially, so that they might have been taken for old friends. During those three days the prince had noticed that they frequently heldlong conversations; he often heard their voices raised in argument ondeep and learned subjects, which evidently pleased Lebedeff. He seemedas if he could not do without the general. But it was not only ArdalionAlexandrovitch whom Lebedeff kept out of the prince's way. Since theyhad come to the villa, he treated his own family the same. Upon thepretext that his tenant needed quiet, he kept him almost in isolation, and Muishkin protested in vain against this excess of zeal. Lebedeffstamped his feet at his daughters and drove them away if they attemptedto join the prince on the terrace; not even Vera was excepted. 

"They will lose all respect if they are allowed to be so free and easy;besides it is not proper for them, " he declared at last, in answer to adirect question from the prince. 

"Why on earth not?" asked the latter. "Really, you know, you are makingyourself a nuisance, by keeping guard over me like this. I get boredall by myself; I have told you so over and over again, and you get onmy nerves more than ever by waving your hands and creeping in and out inthe mysterious way you do. "

It was a fact that Lebedeff, though he was so anxious to keep everyoneelse from disturbing the patient, was continually in and out of theprince's room himself. He invariably began by opening the door a crackand peering in to see if the prince was there, or if he had escaped;then he would creep softly up to the arm-chair, sometimes makingMuishkin jump by his sudden appearance. He always asked if the patientwanted anything, and when the latter replied that he only wanted to beleft in peace, he would turn away obediently and make for the door ontip-toe, with deprecatory gestures to imply that he had only just lookedin, that he would not speak a word, and would go away and not intrudeagain; which did not prevent him from reappearing in ten minutes ora quarter of an hour. Colia had free access to the prince, at whichLebedeff was quite disgusted and indignant. He would listen at the doorfor half an hour at a time while the two were talking. Colia found thisout, and naturally told the prince of his discovery. 

"Do you think yourself my master, that you try to keep me under lock andkey like this?" said the prince to Lebedeff. "In the country, at least, I intend to be free, and you may make up your mind that I mean to seewhom I like, and go where I please. "

"Why, of course, " replied the clerk, gesticulating with his hands. 

The prince looked him sternly up and down. 

"Well, Lukian Timofeyovitch, have you brought the little cupboard thatyou had at the head of your bed with you here?"

"No, I left it where it was. "

"Impossible!"

"It cannot be moved; you would have to pull the wall down, it is sofirmly fixed. "

"Perhaps you have one like it here?"

"I have one that is even better, much better; that is really why Ibought this house. "

"Ah! What visitor did you turn away from my door, about an hour ago?"

"The-the general. I would not let him in; there is no need for him tovisit you, prince. . . I have the deepest esteem for him, he is a--a greatman. You don't believe it? Well, you will see, and yet, most excellentprince, you had much better not receive him. "

"May I ask why? and also why you walk about on tiptoe and always seem asif you were going to whisper a secret in my ear whenever you come nearme?"

"I am vile, vile; I know it!" cried Lebedeff, beating his breast with acontrite air. "But will not the general be too hospitable for you?"

"Too hospitable?"

"Yes. First, he proposes to come and live in my house. Well and good;but he sticks at nothing; he immediately makes himself one of thefamily. We have talked over our respective relations several times, anddiscovered that we are connected by marriage. It seems also that you area sort of nephew on his mother's side; he was explaining it to me againonly yesterday. If you are his nephew, it follows that I must also be arelation of yours, most excellent prince. Never mind about that, it isonly a foible; but just now he assured me that all his life, from theday he was made an ensign to the 11th of last June, he has entertainedat least two hundred guests at his table every day. Finally, he went sofar as to say that they never rose from the table; they dined, supped, and had tea, for fifteen hours at a stretch. This went on for thirtyyears without a break; there was barely time to change the table-cloth;directly one person left, another took his place. On feast-days heentertained as many as three hundred guests, and they numbered sevenhundred on the thousandth anniversary of the foundation of the RussianEmpire. It amounts to a passion with him; it makes one uneasy to hear ofit. It is terrible to have to entertain people who do things on such ascale. That is why I wonder whether such a man is not too hospitable foryou and me. "

"But you seem to be on the best of terms with him?"

"Quite fraternal--I look upon it as a joke. Let us be brothers-in-law, it is all the same to me, --rather an honour than not. But in spite ofthe two hundred guests and the thousandth anniversary of the RussianEmpire, I can see that he is a very remarkable man. I am quite sincere. You said just now that I always looked as if I was going to tell you asecret; you are right. I have a secret to tell you: a certain person hasjust let me know that she is very anxious for a secret interview withyou. "

"Why should it be secret? Not at all; I will call on her myselftomorrow. "

"No, oh no!" cried Lebedeff, waving his arms; "if she is afraid, it isnot for the reason you think. By the way, do you know that the monstercomes every day to inquire after your health?"

"You call him a monster so often that it makes me suspicious. "

"You must have no suspicions, none whatever, " said Lebedeff quickly. "Ionly want you to know that the person in question is not afraid of him, but of something quite, quite different. "

"What on earth is she afraid of, then? Tell me plainly, without any morebeating about the bush, " said the prince, exasperated by the other'smysterious grimaces. 

"Ah that is the secret, " said Lebedeff, with a smile. 

"Whose secret?"

"Yours. You forbade me yourself to mention it before you, most excellentprince, " murmured Lebedeff. Then, satisfied that he had worked upMuishkin's curiosity to the highest pitch, he added abruptly: "She isafraid of Aglaya Ivanovna. "

The prince frowned for a moment in silence, and then said suddenly:

"Really, Lebedeff, I must leave your house. Where are GavrilaArdalionovitch and the Ptitsins? Are they here? Have you chased themaway, too?"

"They are coming, they are coming; and the general as well. I will openall the doors; I will call all my daughters, all of them, this veryminute, " said Lebedeff in a low voice, thoroughly frightened, and wavinghis hands as he ran from door to door. 

At that moment Colia appeared on the terrace; he announced thatLizabetha Prokofievna and her three daughters were close behind him. 

Moved by this news, Lebedeff hurried up to the prince. 

"Shall I call the Ptitsins, and Gavrila Ardalionovitch? Shall I let thegeneral in?" he asked. 

"Why not? Let in anyone who wants to see me. I assure you, Lebedeff, youhave misunderstood my position from the very first; you have been wrongall along. I have not the slightest reason to hide myself from anyone, "replied the prince gaily. 

Seeing him laugh, Lebedeff thought fit to laugh also, and though muchagitated his satisfaction was quite visible. 

Colia was right; the Epanchin ladies were only a few steps behind him. As they approached the terrace other visitors appeared from Lebedeff'sside of the house-the Ptitsins, Gania, and Ardalion Alexandrovitch. 

The Epanchins had only just heard of the prince's illness and of hispresence in Pavlofsk, from Colia; and up to this time had been in astate of considerable bewilderment about him. The general brought theprince's card down from town, and Mrs. Epanchin had felt convinced thathe himself would follow his card at once; she was much excited. 

In vain the girls assured her that a man who had not written for sixmonths would not be in such a dreadful hurry, and that probably he hadenough to do in town without needing to bustle down to Pavlofsk to seethem. Their mother was quite angry at the very idea of such a thing, andannounced her absolute conviction that he would turn up the next day atlatest. 

So next day the prince was expected all the morning, and at dinner, tea, and supper; and when he did not appear in the evening, Mrs. Epanchinquarrelled with everyone in the house, finding plenty of pretextswithout so much as mentioning the prince's name. 

On the third day there was no talk of him at all, until Aglaya remarkedat dinner: "Mamma is cross because the prince hasn't turned up, " towhich the general replied that it was not his fault. 

Mrs. Epanchin misunderstood the observation, and rising from her placeshe left the room in majestic wrath. In the evening, however, Colia camewith the story of the prince's adventures, so far as he knew them. Mrs. Epanchin was triumphant; although Colia had to listen to a long lecture. "He idles about here the whole day long, one can't get rid of him; andthen when he is wanted he does not come. He might have sent a line if hedid not wish to inconvenience himself. "

At the words "one can't get rid of him, " Colia was very angry, andnearly flew into a rage; but he resolved to be quiet for the time andshow his resentment later. If the words had been less offensive hemight have forgiven them, so pleased was he to see Lizabetha Prokofievnaworried and anxious about the prince's illness. 

She would have insisted on sending to Petersburg at once, for a certaingreat medical celebrity; but her daughters dissuaded her, though theywere not willing to stay behind when she at once prepared to go andvisit the invalid. Aglaya, however, suggested that it was a littleunceremonious to go en masse to see him. 

"Very well then, stay at home, " said Mrs. Epanchin, "and a good thingtoo, for Evgenie Pavlovitch is coming down and there will be no one athome to receive him. "

Of course, after this, Aglaya went with the rest. In fact, she had neverhad the slightest intention of doing otherwise. 

Prince S. , who was in the house, was requested to escort the ladies. He had been much interested when he first heard of the prince from theEpanchins. It appeared that they had known one another before, and hadspent some time together in a little provincial town three monthsago. Prince S. Had greatly taken to him, and was delighted with theopportunity of meeting him again. 

The general had not come down from town as yet, nor had EvgeniePavlovitch arrived. 

It was not more than two or three hundred yards from the Epanchins'house to Lebedeff's. The first disagreeable impression experienced byMrs. Epanchin was to find the prince surrounded by a whole assembly ofother guests--not to mention the fact that some of those present wereparticularly detestable in her eyes. The next annoying circumstance waswhen an apparently strong and healthy young fellow, well dressed, and smiling, came forward to meet her on the terrace, instead of thehalf-dying unfortunate whom she had expected to see. 

She was astonished and vexed, and her disappointment pleased Coliaimmensely. Of course he could have undeceived her before she started, but the mischievous boy had been careful not to do that, foreseeing theprobably laughable disgust that she would experience when she found herdear friend, the prince, in good health. Colia was indelicate enough tovoice the delight he felt at his success in managing to annoy LizabethaProkofievna, with whom, in spite of their really amicable relations, hewas constantly sparring. 

"Just wait a while, my boy!" said she; "don't be too certain of yourtriumph. " And she sat down heavily, in the arm-chair pushed forward bythe prince. 

Lebedeff, Ptitsin, and General Ivolgin hastened to find chairs forthe young ladies. Varia greeted them joyfully, and they exchangedconfidences in ecstatic whispers. 

"I must admit, prince, I was a little put out to see you up and aboutlike this--I expected to find you in bed; but I give you my word, I wasonly annoyed for an instant, before I collected my thoughts properly. Iam always wiser on second thoughts, and I dare say you are the same. I assure you I am as glad to see you well as though you were my ownson, --yes, and more; and if you don't believe me the more shame to you, and it's not my fault. But that spiteful boy delights in playing allsorts of tricks. You are his patron, it seems. Well, I warn you thatone fine morning I shall deprive myself of the pleasure of his furtheracquaintance. "

"What have I done wrong now?" cried Colia. "What was the good of tellingyou that the prince was nearly well again? You would not have believedme; it was so much more interesting to picture him on his death-bed. "

"How long do you remain here, prince?" asked Madame Epanchin. 

"All the summer, and perhaps longer. "

"You are alone, aren't you, --not married?"

"No, I'm not married!" replied the prince, smiling at the ingenuousnessof this little feeler. 

"Oh, you needn't laugh! These things do happen, you know! Now then--whydidn't you come to us? We have a wing quite empty. But just as you like, of course. Do you lease it from HIM?--this fellow, I mean, " she added, nodding towards Lebedeff. "And why does he always wriggle so?"

At that moment Vera, carrying the baby in her arms as usual, came out ofthe house, on to the terrace. Lebedeff kept fidgeting among the chairs, and did not seem to know what to do with himself, though he had nointention of going away. He no sooner caught sight of his daughter, thanhe rushed in her direction, waving his arms to keep her away; he evenforgot himself so far as to stamp his foot. 

"Is he mad?" asked Madame Epanchin suddenly. 

"No, he. . . "

"Perhaps he is drunk? Your company is rather peculiar, " she added, witha glance at the other guests. . . . 

"But what a pretty girl! Who is she?"

"That is Lebedeff's daughter--Vera Lukianovna. "

"Indeed? She looks very sweet. I should like to make her acquaintance. "

The words were hardly out of her mouth, when Lebedeff dragged Veraforward, in order to present her. 

"Orphans, poor orphans!" he began in a pathetic voice. 

"The child she carries is an orphan, too. She is Vera's sister, mydaughter Luboff. The day this babe was born, six weeks ago, my wifedied, by the will of God Almighty. . . . Yes. . . Vera takes her mother'splace, though she is but her sister. . . Nothing more. . . Nothing more. . . "

"And you! You are nothing more than a fool, if you'll excuse me! Well!well! you know that yourself, I expect, " said the lady indignantly. 

Lebedeff bowed low. "It is the truth, " he replied, with extreme respect. 

"Oh, Mr. Lebedeff, I am told you lecture on the Apocalypse. Is it true?"asked Aglaya. 

"Yes, that is so. . . For the last fifteen years. "

"I have heard of you, and I think read of you in the newspapers. "

"No, that was another commentator, whom the papers named. He is dead, however, and I have taken his place, " said the other, much delighted. 

"We are neighbours, so will you be so kind as to come over one day andexplain the Apocalypse to me?" said Aglaya. "I do not understand it inthe least. "

"Allow me to warn you, " interposed General Ivolgin, "that he is thegreatest charlatan on earth. " He had taken the chair next to the girl, and was impatient to begin talking. "No doubt there are pleasures andamusements peculiar to the country, " he continued, "and to listen to apretended student holding forth on the book of the Revelations may beas good as any other. It may even be original. But. . . You seem tobe looking at me with some surprise--may I introduce myself--GeneralIvolgin--I carried you in my arms as a baby--"

"Delighted, I'm sure, " said Aglaya; "I am acquainted with VarvaraArdalionovna and Nina Alexandrovna. " She was trying hard to restrainherself from laughing. 

Mrs. Epanchin flushed up; some accumulation of spleen in her suddenlyneeded an outlet. She could not bear this General Ivolgin whom she hadonce known, long ago--in society. 

"You are deviating from the truth, sir, as usual!" she remarked, boilingover with indignation; "you never carried her in your life!"

"You have forgotten, mother, " said Aglaya, suddenly. "He really didcarry me about, --in Tver, you know. I was six years old, I remember. He made me a bow and arrow, and I shot a pigeon. Don't you remembershooting a pigeon, you and I, one day?"

"Yes, and he made me a cardboard helmet, and a little wooden sword--Iremember!" said Adelaida. 

"Yes, I remember too!" said Alexandra. "You quarrelled about the woundedpigeon, and Adelaida was put in the corner, and stood there with herhelmet and sword and all. "

The poor general had merely made the remark about having carried Aglayain his arms because he always did so begin a conversation with youngpeople. But it happened that this time he had really hit upon the truth, though he had himself entirely forgotten the fact. But when Adelaida andAglaya recalled the episode of the pigeon, his mind became filledwith memories, and it is impossible to describe how this poor old man, usually half drunk, was moved by the recollection. 

"I remember--I remember it all!" he cried. "I was captain then. You weresuch a lovely little thing--Nina Alexandrovna!--Gania, listen! I wasreceived then by General Epanchin. "

"Yes, and look what you have come to now!" interrupted Mrs. Epanchin. "However, I see you have not quite drunk your better feelings away. Butyou've broken your wife's heart, sir--and instead of looking afteryour children, you have spent your time in public-houses and debtors'prisons! Go away, my friend, stand in some corner and weep, and bemoanyour fallen dignity, and perhaps God will forgive you yet! Go, go! I'mserious! There's nothing so favourable for repentance as to think of thepast with feelings of remorse!"

There was no need to repeat that she was serious. The general, like alldrunkards, was extremely emotional and easily touched by recollectionsof his better days. He rose and walked quietly to the door, so meeklythat Mrs. Epanchin was instantly sorry for him. 

"Ardalion Alexandrovitch, " she cried after him, "wait a moment, we areall sinners! When you feel that your conscience reproaches you a littleless, come over to me and we'll have a talk about the past! I dare say Iam fifty times more of a sinner than you are! And now go, go, good-bye, you had better not stay here!" she added, in alarm, as he turned asthough to come back. 

"Don't go after him just now, Colia, or he'll be vexed, and the benefitof this moment will be lost!" said the prince, as the boy was hurryingout of the room. 

"Quite true! Much better to go in half an hour or so said Mrs. Epanchin. 

"That's what comes of telling the truth for once in one's life!" saidLebedeff. "It reduced him to tears. "

"Come, come! the less YOU say about it the better--to judge from all Ihave heard about you!" replied Mrs. Epanchin. 

The prince took the first opportunity of informing the Epanchin ladiesthat he had intended to pay them a visit that day, if they had notthemselves come this afternoon, and Lizabetha Prokofievna replied thatshe hoped he would still do so. 

By this time some of the visitors had disappeared. 

Ptitsin had tactfully retreated to Lebedeff's wing; and Gania soonfollowed him. 

The latter had behaved modestly, but with dignity, on this occasionof his first meeting with the Epanchins since the rupture. Twice Mrs. Epanchin had deliberately examined him from head to foot; but he hadstood fire without flinching. He was certainly much changed, as anyonecould see who had not met him for some time; and this fact seemed toafford Aglaya a good deal of satisfaction. 

"That was Gavrila Ardalionovitch, who just went out, wasn't it?" sheasked suddenly, interrupting somebody else's conversation to make theremark. 

"Yes, it was, " said the prince. 

"I hardly knew him; he is much changed, and for the better!"

"I am very glad, " said the prince. 

"He has been very ill, " added Varia. 

"How has he changed for the better?" asked Mrs. Epanchin. "I don't seeany change for the better! What's better in him? Where did you get THATidea from? WHAT'S better?"

"There's nothing better than the 'poor knight'!" said Colia, who wasstanding near the last speaker's chair. 

"I quite agree with you there!" said Prince S. , laughing. 

"So do I, " said Adelaida, solemnly. 

"WHAT poor knight?" asked Mrs. Epanchin, looking round at the face ofeach of the speakers in turn. Seeing, however, that Aglaya was blushing, she added, angrily:

"What nonsense you are all talking! What do you mean by poor knight?"

"It's not the first time this urchin, your favourite, has shown hisimpudence by twisting other people's words, " said Aglaya, haughtily. 

Every time that Aglaya showed temper (and this was very often), therewas so much childish pouting, such "school-girlishness, " as it were, inher apparent wrath, that it was impossible to avoid smiling at her, toher own unutterable indignation. On these occasions she would say, "Howcan they, how DARE they laugh at me?"

This time everyone laughed at her, her sisters, Prince S. , PrinceMuishkin (though he himself had flushed for some reason), and Colia. Aglaya was dreadfully indignant, and looked twice as pretty in herwrath. 

"He's always twisting round what one says, " she cried. 

"I am only repeating your own exclamation!" said Colia. "A month ago youwere turning over the pages of your Don Quixote, and suddenly called out'there is nothing better than the poor knight. ' I don't know whomyou were referring to, of course, whether to Don Quixote, or EvgeniePavlovitch, or someone else, but you certainly said these words, andafterwards there was a long conversation. . . "

"You are inclined to go a little too far, my good boy, with yourguesses, " said Mrs. Epanchin, with some show of annoyance. 

"But it's not I alone, " cried Colia. "They all talked about it, and theydo still. Why, just now Prince S. And Adelaida Ivanovna declared thatthey upheld 'the poor knight'; so evidently there does exist a 'poorknight'; and if it were not for Adelaida Ivanovna, we should have knownlong ago who the 'poor knight' was. "

"Why, how am I to blame?" asked Adelaida, smiling. 

"You wouldn't draw his portrait for us, that's why you are to blame!Aglaya Ivanovna asked you to draw his portrait, and gave you the wholesubject of the picture. She invented it herself; and you wouldn't. "

"What was I to draw? According to the lines she quoted:

"'From his face he never lifted That eternal mask of steel. '"

"What sort of a face was I to draw? I couldn't draw a mask. "

"I don't know what you are driving at; what mask do you mean?" saidMrs. Epanchin, irritably. She began to see pretty clearly though whatit meant, and whom they referred to by the generally accepted title of"poor knight. " But what specially annoyed her was that the prince waslooking so uncomfortable, and blushing like a ten-year-old child. 

"Well, have you finished your silly joke?" she added, "and am I to betold what this 'poor knight' means, or is it a solemn secret whichcannot be approached lightly?"

But they all laughed on. 

"It's simply that there is a Russian poem, " began Prince S. , evidentlyanxious to change the conversation, "a strange thing, without beginningor end, and all about a 'poor knight. ' A month or so ago, we were alltalking and laughing, and looking up a subject for one of Adelaida'spictures--you know it is the principal business of this family to findsubjects for Adelaida's pictures. Well, we happened upon this 'poorknight. ' I don't remember who thought of it first--"

"Oh! Aglaya Ivanovna did, " said Colia. 

"Very likely--I don't recollect, " continued Prince S. 

"Some of us laughed at the subject; some liked it; but she declaredthat, in order to make a picture of the gentleman, she must first seehis face. We then began to think over all our friends' faces to seeif any of them would do, and none suited us, and so the matter stood;that's all. I don't know why Nicolai Ardalionovitch has brought upthe joke now. What was appropriate and funny then, has quite lost allinterest by this time. "

"Probably there's some new silliness about it, " said Mrs. Epanchin, sarcastically. 

"There is no silliness about it at all--only the profoundest respect, "said Aglaya, very seriously. She had quite recovered her temper; infact, from certain signs, it was fair to conclude that she was delightedto see this joke going so far; and a careful observer might haveremarked that her satisfaction dated from the moment when the fact ofthe prince's confusion became apparent to all. 

"'Profoundest respect!' What nonsense! First, insane giggling, and then, all of a sudden, a display of 'profoundest respect. ' Why respect? Tellme at once, why have you suddenly developed this 'profound respect, 'eh?"

"Because, " replied Aglaya gravely, "in the poem the knight is describedas a man capable of living up to an ideal all his life. That sort ofthing is not to be found every day among the men of our times. In thepoem it is not stated exactly what the ideal was, but it was evidentlysome vision, some revelation of pure Beauty, and the knight wore roundhis neck, instead of a scarf, a rosary. A device--A. N. B. --the meaningof which is not explained, was inscribed on his shield--"

"No, A. N. D. , " corrected Colia. 

"I say A. N. B. , and so it shall be!" cried Aglaya, irritably. "Anyway, the 'poor knight' did not care what his lady was, or what she did. Hehad chosen his ideal, and he was bound to serve her, and break lancesfor her, and acknowledge her as the ideal of pure Beauty, whatever shemight say or do afterwards. If she had taken to stealing, he would havechampioned her just the same. I think the poet desired to embody in thisone picture the whole spirit of medieval chivalry and the platonic loveof a pure and high-souled knight. Of course it's all an ideal, and inthe 'poor knight' that spirit reached the utmost limit of asceticism. Heis a Don Quixote, only serious and not comical. I used not to understandhim, and laughed at him, but now I love the 'poor knight, ' and respecthis actions. "

So ended Aglaya; and, to look at her, it was difficult, indeed, to judgewhether she was joking or in earnest. 

"Pooh! he was a fool, and his actions were the actions of a fool, " saidMrs. Epanchin; "and as for you, young woman, you ought to know better. At all events, you are not to talk like that again. What poem is it?Recite it! I want to hear this poem! I have hated poetry all my life. Prince, you must excuse this nonsense. We neither of us like this sortof thing! Be patient!"

They certainly were put out, both of them. 

The prince tried to say something, but he was too confused, and couldnot get his words out. Aglaya, who had taken such liberties in herlittle speech, was the only person present, perhaps, who was not in theleast embarrassed. She seemed, in fact, quite pleased. 

She now rose solemnly from her seat, walked to the centre of theterrace, and stood in front of the prince's chair. All looked on withsome surprise, and Prince S. And her sisters with feelings of decidedalarm, to see what new frolic she was up to; it had gone quite farenough already, they thought. But Aglaya evidently thoroughly enjoyedthe affectation and ceremony with which she was introducing herrecitation of the poem. 

Mrs. Epanchin was just wondering whether she would not forbid theperformance after all, when, at the very moment that Aglaya commencedher declamation, two new guests, both talking loudly, entered from thestreet. The new arrivals were General Epanchin and a young man. 

Their entrance caused some slight commotion. 

VII. 

THE young fellow accompanying the general was about twenty-eight, tall, and well built, with a handsome and clever face, and bright black eyes, full of fun and intelligence. 

Aglaya did not so much as glance at the new arrivals, but went on withher recitation, gazing at the prince the while in an affected manner, and at him alone. It was clear to him that she was doing all this withsome special object. 

But the new guests at least somewhat eased his strained anduncomfortable position. Seeing them approaching, he rose from his chair, and nodding amicably to the general, signed to him not to interrupt therecitation. He then got behind his chair, and stood there with his lefthand resting on the back of it. Thanks to this change of position, he was able to listen to the ballad with far less embarrassment thanbefore. Mrs. Epanchin had also twice motioned to the new arrivals to bequiet, and stay where they were. 

The prince was much interested in the young man who had just entered. Heeasily concluded that this was Evgenie Pavlovitch Radomski, of whom hehad already heard mention several times. He was puzzled, however, by theyoung man's plain clothes, for he had always heard of Evgenie Pavlovitchas a military man. An ironical smile played on Evgenie's lips all thewhile the recitation was proceeding, which showed that he, too, wasprobably in the secret of the 'poor knight' joke. But it had becomequite a different matter with Aglaya. All the affectation of mannerwhich she had displayed at the beginning disappeared as the balladproceeded. She spoke the lines in so serious and exalted a manner, andwith so much taste, that she even seemed to justify the exaggeratedsolemnity with which she had stepped forward. It was impossible todiscern in her now anything but a deep feeling for the spirit of thepoem which she had undertaken to interpret. 

Her eyes were aglow with inspiration, and a slight tremor of rapturepassed over her lovely features once or twice. She continued to recite:

"Once there came a vision glorious, Mystic, dreadful, wondrous fair;Burned itself into his spirit, And abode for ever there!

"Never more--from that sweet moment--Gazed he on womankind; He was dumbto love and wooing And to all their graces blind. 

"Full of love for that sweet vision, Brave and pure he took the field;With his blood he stained the letters N. P. B. Upon his shield. 

"'Lumen caeli, sancta Rosa!' Shouting on the foe he fell, And likethunder rang his war-cry O'er the cowering infidel. 

"Then within his distant castle, Home returned, he dreamed hisdays-Silent, sad, --and when death took him He was mad, the legend says. "

When recalling all this afterwards the prince could not for the life ofhim understand how to reconcile the beautiful, sincere, pure nature ofthe girl with the irony of this jest. That it was a jest there was nodoubt whatever; he knew that well enough, and had good reason, too, for his conviction; for during her recitation of the ballad Aglaya haddeliberately changed the letters A. N. B. Into N. P. B. He was quitesure she had not done this by accident, and that his ears had notdeceived him. At all events her performance--which was a joke, ofcourse, if rather a crude one, --was premeditated. They had evidentlytalked (and laughed) over the 'poor knight' for more than a month. 

Yet Aglaya had brought out these letters N. P. B. Not only without theslightest appearance of irony, or even any particular accentuation, butwith so even and unbroken an appearance of seriousness that assuredlyanyone might have supposed that these initials were the original oneswritten in the ballad. The thing made an uncomfortable impression uponthe prince. Of course Mrs. Epanchin saw nothing either in the change ofinitials or in the insinuation embodied therein. General Epanchin onlyknew that there was a recitation of verses going on, and took no furtherinterest in the matter. Of the rest of the audience, many had understoodthe allusion and wondered both at the daring of the lady and at themotive underlying it, but tried to show no sign of their feelings. ButEvgenie Pavlovitch (as the prince was ready to wager) both comprehendedand tried his best to show that he comprehended; his smile was toomocking to leave any doubt on that point. 

"How beautiful that is!" cried Mrs. Epanchin, with sincere admiration. "Whose is it?"

"Pushkin's, mama, of course! Don't disgrace us all by showing yourignorance, " said Adelaida. 

"As soon as we reach home give it to me to read. "

"I don't think we have a copy of Pushkin in the house. "

"There are a couple of torn volumes somewhere; they have been lyingabout from time immemorial, " added Alexandra. 

"Send Feodor or Alexey up by the very first train to buy a copy, then. --Aglaya, come here--kiss me, dear, you recited beautifully! but, "she added in a whisper, "if you were sincere I am sorry for you. If itwas a joke, I do not approve of the feelings which prompted you to doit, and in any case you would have done far better not to recite it atall. Do you understand?--Now come along, young woman; we've sat here toolong. I'll speak to you about this another time. "

Meanwhile the prince took the opportunity of greeting General Epanchin, and the general introduced Evgenie Pavlovitch to him. 

"I caught him up on the way to your house, " explained the general. "Hehad heard that we were all here. "

"Yes, and I heard that you were here, too, " added Evgenie Pavlovitch;"and since I had long promised myself the pleasure of seeking not onlyyour acquaintance but your friendship, I did not wish to waste time, butcame straight on. I am sorry to hear that you are unwell. "

"Oh, but I'm quite well now, thank you, and very glad to make youracquaintance. Prince S. Has often spoken to me about you, " saidMuishkin, and for an instant the two men looked intently into oneanother's eyes. 

The prince remarked that Evgenie Pavlovitch's plain clothes hadevidently made a great impression upon the company present, so much sothat all other interests seemed to be effaced before this surprisingfact. 

His change of dress was evidently a matter of some importance. Adelaidaand Alexandra poured out a stream of questions; Prince S. , a relativeof the young man, appeared annoyed; and Ivan Fedorovitch quite excited. Aglaya alone was not interested. She merely looked closely at Evgeniefor a minute, curious perhaps as to whether civil or military clothesbecame him best, then turned away and paid no more attention to him orhis costume. Lizabetha Prokofievna asked no questions, but it was clearthat she was uneasy, and the prince fancied that Evgenie was not in hergood graces. 

"He has astonished me, " said Ivan Fedorovitch. "I nearly fell down withsurprise. I could hardly believe my eyes when I met him in Petersburgjust now. Why this haste? That's what I want to know. He has always saidhimself that there is no need to break windows. "

Evgenie Pavlovitch remarked here that he had spoken of his intention ofleaving the service long ago. He had, however, always made more or lessof a joke about it, so no one had taken him seriously. For that matterhe joked about everything, and his friends never knew what to believe, especially if he did not wish them to understand him. 

"I have only retired for a time, " said he, laughing. "For a few months;at most for a year. "

"But there is no necessity for you to retire at all, " complained thegeneral, "as far as I know. "

"I want to go and look after my country estates. You advised me to dothat yourself, " was the reply. "And then I wish to go abroad. "

After a few more expostulations, the conversation drifted into otherchannels, but the prince, who had been an attentive listener, thoughtall this excitement about so small a matter very curious. "There must bemore in it than appears, " he said to himself. 

"I see the 'poor knight' has come on the scene again, " said EvgeniePavlovitch, stepping to Aglaya's side. 

To the amazement of the prince, who overheard the remark, Aglaya lookedhaughtily and inquiringly at the questioner, as though she would givehim to know, once for all, that there could be no talk between themabout the 'poor knight, ' and that she did not understand his question. 

"But not now! It is too late to send to town for a Pushkin now. It ismuch too late, I say!" Colia was exclaiming in a loud voice. "I havetold you so at least a hundred times. "

"Yes, it is really much too late to send to town now, " said EvgeniePavlovitch, who had escaped from Aglaya as rapidly as possible. "I amsure the shops are shut in Petersburg; it is past eight o'clock, " headded, looking at his watch. 

"We have done without him so far, " interrupted Adelaida in her turn. "Surely we can wait until to-morrow. "

"Besides, " said Colia, "it is quite unusual, almost improper, forpeople in our position to take any interest in literature. Ask EvgeniePavlovitch if I am not right. It is much more fashionable to drive awaggonette with red wheels. "

"You got that from some magazine, Colia, " remarked Adelaida. 

"He gets most of his conversation in that way, " laughed EvgeniePavlovitch. "He borrows whole phrases from the reviews. I have longhad the pleasure of knowing both Nicholai Ardalionovitch and hisconversational methods, but this time he was not repeating something hehad read; he was alluding, no doubt, to my yellow waggonette, which has, or had, red wheels. But I have exchanged it, so you are rather behindthe times, Colia. "

The prince had been listening attentively to Radomski's words, andthought his manner very pleasant. When Colia chaffed him about hiswaggonette he had replied with perfect equality and in a friendlyfashion. This pleased Muishkin. 

At this moment Vera came up to Lizabetha Prokofievna, carrying severallarge and beautifully bound books, apparently quite new. 

"What is it?" demanded the lady. 

"This is Pushkin, " replied the girl. "Papa told me to offer it to you. "

"What? Impossible!" exclaimed Mrs. Epanchin. 

"Not as a present, not as a present! I should not have taken theliberty, " said Lebedeff, appearing suddenly from behind his daughter. "It is our own Pushkin, our family copy, Annenkoff's edition; it couldnot be bought now. I beg to suggest, with great respect, that yourexcellency should buy it, and thus quench the noble literary thirstwhich is consuming you at this moment, " he concluded grandiloquently. 

"Oh! if you will sell it, very good--and thank you. You shall not be aloser! But for goodness' sake, don't twist about like that, sir! I haveheard of you; they tell me you are a very learned person. We must have atalk one of these days. You will bring me the books yourself?"

"With the greatest respect. . . And. . . And veneration, " replied Lebedeff, making extraordinary grimaces. 

"Well, bring them, with or without respect, provided always you do notdrop them on the way; but on the condition, " went on the lady, lookingfull at him, "that you do not cross my threshold. I do not intend toreceive you today. You may send your daughter Vera at once, if you like. I am much pleased with her. "

"Why don't you tell him about them?" said Vera impatiently to herfather. "They will come in, whether you announce them or not, and theyare beginning to make a row. Lef Nicolaievitch, "--she addressed herselfto the prince--"four men are here asking for you. They have waited sometime, and are beginning to make a fuss, and papa will not bring themin. "

"Who are these people?" said the prince. 

"They say that they have come on business, and they are the kind of men, who, if you do not see them here, will follow you about the street. It would be better to receive them, and then you will get rid of them. Gavrila Ardalionovitch and Ptitsin are both there, trying to make themhear reason. "

"Pavlicheff's son! It is not worth while!" cried Lebedeff. "There isno necessity to see them, and it would be most unpleasant for yourexcellency. They do not deserve. . . "

"What? Pavlicheff's son!" cried the prince, much perturbed. "I know. . . I know--but I entrusted this matter to Gavrila Ardalionovitch. He toldme. . . "

At that moment Gania, accompanied by Ptitsin, came out to the terrace. From an adjoining room came a noise of angry voices, and GeneralIvolgin, in loud tones, seemed to be trying to shout them down. Coliarushed off at once to investigate the cause of the uproar. 

"This is most interesting!" observed Evgenie Pavlovitch. 

"I expect he knows all about it!" thought the prince. 

"What, the son of Pavlicheff? And who may this son of Pavlicheff be?"asked General Epanchin with surprise; and looking curiously around him, he discovered that he alone had no clue to the mystery. Expectation andsuspense were on every face, with the exception of that of the prince, who stood gravely wondering how an affair so entirely personal couldhave awakened such lively and widespread interest in so short a time. 

Aglaya went up to him with a peculiarly serious look

"It will be well, " she said, "if you put an end to this affair yourselfAT ONCE: but you must allow us to be your witnesses. They want to throwmud at you, prince, and you must be triumphantly vindicated. I give youjoy beforehand!"

"And I also wish for justice to be done, once for all, " cried MadameEpanchin, "about this impudent claim. Deal with them promptly, prince, and don't spare them! I am sick of hearing about the affair, and many aquarrel I have had in your cause. But I confess I am anxious to see whathappens, so do make them come out here, and we will remain. You haveheard people talking about it, no doubt?" she added, turning to PrinceS. 

"Of course, " said he. "I have heard it spoken about at your house, and Iam anxious to see these young men!"

"They are Nihilists, are they not?"

"No, they are not Nihilists, " explained Lebedeff, who seemed muchexcited. "This is another lot--a special group. According to my nephewthey are more advanced even than the Nihilists. You are quite wrong, excellency, if you think that your presence will intimidate them;nothing intimidates them. Educated men, learned men even, are to befound among Nihilists; these go further, in that they are men of action. The movement is, properly speaking, a derivative from Nihilism--thoughthey are only known indirectly, and by hearsay, for they never advertisetheir doings in the papers. They go straight to the point. For them, itis not a question of showing that Pushkin is stupid, or that Russia mustbe torn in pieces. No; but if they have a great desire for anything, they believe they have a right to get it even at the cost of the lives, say, of eight persons. They are checked by no obstacles. In fact, prince, I should not advise you. . . "

But Muishkin had risen, and was on his way to open the door for hisvisitors. 

"You are slandering them, Lebedeff, " said he, smiling. 

"You are always thinking about your nephew's conduct. Don't believehim, Lizabetha Prokofievna. I can assure you Gorsky and Daniloff areexceptions--and that these are only. . . Mistaken. However, I do not careabout receiving them here, in public. Excuse me, Lizabetha Prokofievna. They are coming, and you can see them, and then I will take them away. Please come in, gentlemen!"

Another thought tormented him: He wondered was this an arrangedbusiness--arranged to happen when he had guests in his house, and inanticipation of his humiliation rather than of his triumph? But hereproached himself bitterly for such a thought, and felt as if he shoulddie of shame if it were discovered. When his new visitors appeared, hewas quite ready to believe himself infinitely less to be respected thanany of them. 

Four persons entered, led by General Ivolgin, in a state of greatexcitement, and talking eloquently. 

"He is for me, undoubtedly!" thought the prince, with a smile. Coliaalso had joined the party, and was talking with animation to Hippolyte, who listened with a jeering smile on his lips. 

The prince begged the visitors to sit down. They were all so young thatit made the proceedings seem even more extraordinary. Ivan Fedorovitch, who really understood nothing of what was going on, felt indignant atthe sight of these youths, and would have interfered in some way had itnot been for the extreme interest shown by his wife in the affair. He therefore remained, partly through curiosity, partly throughgood-nature, hoping that his presence might be of some use. But the bowwith which General Ivolgin greeted him irritated him anew; he frowned, and decided to be absolutely silent. 

As to the rest, one was a man of thirty, the retired officer, now aboxer, who had been with Rogojin, and in his happier days had givenfifteen roubles at a time to beggars. Evidently he had joined the othersas a comrade to give them moral, and if necessary material, support. Theman who had been spoken of as "Pavlicheff's son, " although he gave thename of Antip Burdovsky, was about twenty-two years of age, fair, thin and rather tall. He was remarkable for the poverty, not to sayuncleanliness, of his personal appearance: the sleeves of his overcoatwere greasy; his dirty waistcoat, buttoned up to his neck, showed not atrace of linen; a filthy black silk scarf, twisted till it resembled acord, was round his neck, and his hands were unwashed. He looked roundwith an air of insolent effrontery. His face, covered with pimples, was neither thoughtful nor even contemptuous; it wore an expressionof complacent satisfaction in demanding his rights and in being anaggrieved party. His voice trembled, and he spoke so fast, and with suchstammerings, that he might have been taken for a foreigner, thoughthe purest Russian blood ran in his veins. Lebedeff's nephew, whomthe reader has seen already, accompanied him, and also the youth namedHippolyte Terentieff. The latter was only seventeen or eighteen. Hehad an intelligent face, though it was usually irritated and fretfulin expression. His skeleton-like figure, his ghastly complexion, thebrightness of his eyes, and the red spots of colour on his cheeks, betrayed the victim of consumption to the most casual glance. He coughedpersistently, and panted for breath; it looked as though he had buta few weeks more to live. He was nearly dead with fatigue, and fell, rather than sat, into a chair. The rest bowed as they came in; and beingmore or less abashed, put on an air of extreme self-assurance. In short, their attitude was not that which one would have expected in men whoprofessed to despise all trivialities, all foolish mundane conventions, and indeed everything, except their own personal interests. 

"Antip Burdovsky, " stuttered the son of Pavlicheff. 

"Vladimir Doktorenko, " said Lebedeff's nephew briskly, and with acertain pride, as if he boasted of his name. 

"Keller, " murmured the retired officer. 

"Hippolyte Terentieff, " cried the last-named, in a shrill voice. 

They sat now in a row facing the prince, and frowned, and played withtheir caps. All appeared ready to speak, and yet all were silent; thedefiant expression on their faces seemed to say, "No, sir, you don'ttake us in!" It could be felt that the first word spoken by anyonepresent would bring a torrent of speech from the whole deputation. 

VIII. 

"I _did_ not expect you, gentlemen, " began the prince. "I have been illuntil to-day. A month ago, " he continued, addressing himself to AntipBurdovsky, "I put your business into Gavrila Ardalionovitch Ivolgin'shands, as I told you then. I do not in the least object to having apersonal interview. . . But you will agree with me that this is hardly thetime. . . I propose that we go into another room, if you will not keep melong. . . As you see, I have friends here, and believe me. . . "

"Friends as many as you please, but allow me, " interrupted the harshvoice of Lebedeff's nephew--"allow me to tell you that you might havetreated us rather more politely, and not have kept us waiting at leasttwo hours. . . 

"No doubt. . . And I. . . Is that acting like a prince? And you. . . You maybe a general! But I. . . I am not your valet! And I. . . I. . . " stammeredAntip Burdovsky. 

He was extremely excited; his lips trembled, and the resentment of anembittered soul was in his voice. But he spoke so indistinctly thathardly a dozen words could be gathered. 

"It was a princely action!" sneered Hippolyte. 

"If anyone had treated me so, " grumbled the boxer. 

"I mean to say that if I had been in Burdovsky's place. . . I. . . "

"Gentlemen, I did not know you were there; I have only just beeninformed, I assure you, " repeated Muishkin. 

"We are not afraid of your friends, prince, " remarked Lebedeff's nephew, "for we are within our rights. "

The shrill tones of Hippolyte interrupted him. "What right have you. . . By what right do you demand us to submit this matter, about Burdovsky. . . To the judgment of your friends? We know only too well what the judgmentof your friends will be!. . . "

This beginning gave promise of a stormy discussion. The prince wasmuch discouraged, but at last he managed to make himself heard amid thevociferations of his excited visitors. 

"If you, " he said, addressing Burdovsky--"if you prefer not to speakhere, I offer again to go into another room with you. . . And as to yourwaiting to see me, I repeat that I only this instant heard. . . "

"Well, you have no right, you have no right, no right at all!. . . Yourfriends indeed!". . . Gabbled Burdovsky, defiantly examining the facesround him, and becoming more and more excited. "You have no right!. . . "As he ended thus abruptly, he leant forward, staring at the prince withhis short-sighted, bloodshot eyes. The latter was so astonished, that hedid not reply, but looked steadily at him in return. 

"Lef Nicolaievitch!" interposed Madame Epanchin, suddenly, "read this atonce, this very moment! It is about this business. "

She held out a weekly comic paper, pointing to an article on one ofits pages. Just as the visitors were coming in, Lebedeff, wishing toingratiate himself with the great lady, had pulled this paper from hispocket, and presented it to her, indicating a few columns marked inpencil. Lizabetha Prokofievna had had time to read some of it, and wasgreatly upset. 

"Would it not be better to peruse it alone. . . " later asked the prince, nervously. 

"No, no, read it--read it at once directly, and aloud, aloud!" criedshe, calling Colia to her and giving him the journal. --"Read it aloud, so that everyone may hear it!"

An impetuous woman, Lizabetha Prokofievna sometimes weighed her anchorsand put out to sea quite regardless of the possible storms she mightencounter. Ivan Fedorovitch felt a sudden pang of alarm, but the otherswere merely curious, and somewhat surprised. Colia unfolded the paper, and began to read, in his clear, high-pitched voice, the followingarticle:

"Proletarians and scions of nobility! An episode of the brigandage oftoday and every day! Progress! Reform! Justice!"

"Strange things are going on in our so-called Holy Russia in this age ofreform and great enterprises; this age of patriotism in which hundredsof millions are yearly sent abroad; in which industry is encouraged, andthe hands of Labour paralyzed, etc. ; there is no end to this, gentlemen, so let us come to the point. A strange thing has happened to a scionof our defunct aristocracy. (DE PROFUNDIS!) The grandfathers of thesescions ruined themselves at the gaming-tables; their fathers were forcedto serve as officers or subalterns; some have died just as they wereabout to be tried for innocent thoughtlessness in the handling of publicfunds. Their children are sometimes congenital idiots, like the hero ofour story; sometimes they are found in the dock at the Assizes, wherethey are generally acquitted by the jury for edifying motives; sometimesthey distinguish themselves by one of those burning scandals that amazethe public and add another blot to the stained record of our age. Sixmonths ago--that is, last winter--this particular scion returned toRussia, wearing gaiters like a foreigner, and shivering with cold inan old scantily-lined cloak. He had come from Switzerland, where hehad just undergone a successful course of treatment for idiocy (SIC!). Certainly Fortune favoured him, for, apart from the interesting maladyof which he was cured in Switzerland (can there be a cure for idiocy?)his story proves the truth of the Russian proverb that 'happiness isthe right of certain classes!' Judge for yourselves. Our subject was aninfant in arms when he lost his father, an officer who died just ashe was about to be court-martialled for gambling away the funds of hiscompany, and perhaps also for flogging a subordinate to excess (rememberthe good old days, gentlemen). The orphan was brought up by the charityof a very rich Russian landowner. In the good old days, this man, whom we will call P--, owned four thousand souls as serfs (souls asserfs!--can you understand such an expression, gentlemen? I cannot; itmust be looked up in a dictionary before one can understand it; thesethings of a bygone day are already unintelligible to us). He appearsto have been one of those Russian parasites who lead an idle existenceabroad, spending the summer at some spa, and the winter in Paris, to thegreater profit of the organizers of public balls. It may safely be saidthat the manager of the Chateau des Fleurs (lucky man!) pocketed atleast a third of the money paid by Russian peasants to their lords inthe days of serfdom. However this may be, the gay P--brought up theorphan like a prince, provided him with tutors and governesses (pretty, of course!) whom he chose himself in Paris. But the little aristocrat, the last of his noble race, was an idiot. The governesses, recruited atthe Chateau des Fleurs, laboured in vain; at twenty years of age theirpupil could not speak in any language, not even Russian. But ignoranceof the latter was still excusable. At last P---- was seized with astrange notion; he imagined that in Switzerland they could change anidiot into a mail of sense. After all, the idea was quite logical;a parasite and landowner naturally supposed that intelligence was amarketable commodity like everything else, and that in Switzerlandespecially it could be bought for money. The case was entrusted to acelebrated Swiss professor, and cost thousands of roubles; thetreatment lasted five years. Needless to say, the idiot did not becomeintelligent, but it is alleged that he grew into something more or lessresembling a man. At this stage P---- died suddenly, and, as usual, he had made no will and left his affairs in disorder. A crowd of eagerclaimants arose, who cared nothing about any last scion of a noble raceundergoing treatment in Switzerland, at the expense of the deceased, asa congenital idiot. Idiot though he was, the noble scion tried to cheathis professor, and they say he succeeded in getting him to continuethe treatment gratis for two years, by concealing the death of hisbenefactor. But the professor himself was a charlatan. Getting anxiousat last when no money was forthcoming, and alarmed above all by hispatient's appetite, he presented him with a pair of old gaiters and ashabby cloak and packed him off to Russia, third class. It would seemthat Fortune had turned her back upon our hero. Not at all; Fortune, who lets whole populations die of hunger, showered all her gifts at onceupon the little aristocrat, like Kryloff's Cloud which passes over anarid plain and empties itself into the sea. He had scarcely arrived inSt. Petersburg, when a relation of his mother's (who was of bourgeoisorigin, of course), died at Moscow. He was a merchant, an Old Believer, and he had no children. He left a fortune of several millions in goodcurrent coin, and everything came to our noble scion, our gaiteredbaron, formerly treated for idiocy in a Swiss lunatic asylum. Instantlythe scene changed, crowds of friends gathered round our baron, whomeanwhile had lost his head over a celebrated demi-mondaine; he evendiscovered some relations; moreover a number of young girls of highbirth burned to be united to him in lawful matrimony. Could anyonepossibly imagine a better match? Aristocrat, millionaire, and idiot, hehas every advantage! One might hunt in vain for his equal, even with thelantern of Diogenes; his like is not to be had even by getting it madeto order!"

"Oh, I don't know what this means" cried Ivan Fedorovitch, transportedwith indignation. 

"Leave off, Colia, " begged the prince. Exclamations arose on all sides. 

"Let him go on reading at all costs!" ordered Lizabetha Prokofievna, evidently preserving her composure by a desperate effort. "Prince, ifthe reading is stopped, you and I will quarrel. "

Colia had no choice but to obey. With crimson cheeks he read onunsteadily:

"But while our young millionaire dwelt as it were in the Empyrean, something new occurred. One fine morning a man called upon him, calm andsevere of aspect, distinguished, but plainly dressed. Politely, but indignified terms, as befitted his errand, he briefly explained the motivefor his visit. He was a lawyer of enlightened views; his client was ayoung man who had consulted him in confidence. This young man was noother than the son of P--, though he bears another name. In his youthP--, the sensualist, had seduced a young girl, poor but respectable. Shewas a serf, but had received a European education. Finding that a childwas expected, he hastened her marriage with a man of noble character whohad loved her for a long time. He helped the young couple for a time, but he was soon obliged to give up, for the high-minded husband refusedto accept anything from him. Soon the careless nobleman forgot all abouthis former mistress and the child she had borne him; then, as we know, he died intestate. P--'s son, born after his mother's marriage, founda true father in the generous man whose name he bore. But when he alsodied, the orphan was left to provide for himself, his mother now beingan invalid who had lost the use of her limbs. Leaving her in a distantprovince, he came to the capital in search of pupils. By dint of dailytoil he earned enough to enable him to follow the college courses, andat last to enter the university. But what can one earn by teaching thechildren of Russian merchants at ten copecks a lesson, especially withan invalid mother to keep? Even her death did not much diminish thehardships of the young man's struggle for existence. Now this is thequestion: how, in the name of justice, should our scion have argued thecase? Our readers will think, no doubt, that he would say to himself:'P--showered benefits upon me all my life; he spent tens of thousandsof roubles to educate me, to provide me with governesses, and to keep meunder treatment in Switzerland. Now I am a millionaire, and P----'s son, a noble young man who is not responsible for the faults of his carelessand forgetful father, is wearing himself out giving ill-paid lessons. According to justice, all that was done for me ought to have been donefor him. The enormous sums spent upon me were not really mine; theycame to me by an error of blind Fortune, when they ought to have gone toP----'s son. They should have gone to benefit him, not me, in whom P----interested himself by a mere caprice, instead of doing his duty as afather. If I wished to behave nobly, justly, and with delicacy, I oughtto bestow half my fortune upon the son of my benefactor; but as economyis my favourite virtue, and I know this is not a case in which the lawcan intervene, I will not give up half my millions. But it would be tooopenly vile, too flagrantly infamous, if I did not at least restore toP----'s son the tens of thousands of roubles spent in curing my idiocy. This is simply a case of conscience and of strict justice. Whateverwould have become of me if P---- had not looked after my education, andhad taken care of his own son instead of me?'

"No, gentlemen, our scions of the nobility do not reason thus. Thelawyer, who had taken up the matter purely out of friendship to theyoung man, and almost against his will, invoked every considerationof justice, delicacy, honour, and even plain figures; in vain, theex-patient of the Swiss lunatic asylum was inflexible. All this mightpass, but the sequel is absolutely unpardonable, and not to be excusedby any interesting malady. This millionaire, having but just discardedthe old gaiters of his professor, could not even understand thatthe noble young man slaving away at his lessons was not asking forcharitable help, but for his rightful due, though the debt was not alegal one; that, correctly speaking, he was not asking for anything, butit was merely his friends who had thought fit to bestir themselves onhis behalf. With the cool insolence of a bloated capitalist, secure inhis millions, he majestically drew a banknote for fifty roubles from hispocket-book and sent it to the noble young man as a humiliating piece ofcharity. You can hardly believe it, gentlemen! You are scandalized anddisgusted; you cry out in indignation! But that is what he did! Needlessto say, the money was returned, or rather flung back in his face. Thecase is not within the province of the law, it must be referred to thetribunal of public opinion; this is what we now do, guaranteeing thetruth of all the details which we have related. "

When Colia had finished reading, he handed the paper to the prince, andretired silently to a corner of the room, hiding his face in hishands. He was overcome by a feeling of inexpressible shame; his boyishsensitiveness was wounded beyond endurance. It seemed to him thatsomething extraordinary, some sudden catastrophe had occurred, and thathe was almost the cause of it, because he had read the article aloud. 

Yet all the others were similarly affected. The girls were uncomfortableand ashamed. Lizabetha Prokofievna restrained her violent anger by agreat effort; perhaps she bitterly regretted her interference in thematter; for the present she kept silence. The prince felt as very shypeople often do in such a case; he was so ashamed of the conduct ofother people, so humiliated for his guests, that he dared not look themin the face. Ptitsin, Varia, Gania, and Lebedeff himself, all lookedrather confused. Stranger still, Hippolyte and the "son of Pavlicheff"also seemed slightly surprised, and Lebedeff's nephew was obviouslyfar from pleased. The boxer alone was perfectly calm; he twisted hismoustaches with affected dignity, and if his eyes were cast down it wascertainly not in confusion, but rather in noble modesty, as if he didnot wish to be insolent in his triumph. It was evident that he wasdelighted with the article. 

"The devil knows what it means, " growled Ivan Fedorovitch, under hisbreath; "it must have taken the united wits of fifty footmen to writeit. "

"May I ask your reason for such an insulting supposition, sir?" saidHippolyte, trembling with rage. 

"You will admit yourself, general, that for an honourable man, if theauthor is an honourable man, that is an--an insult, " growled the boxersuddenly, with convulsive jerkings of his shoulders. 

"In the first place, it is not for you to address me as 'sir, ' and, in the second place, I refuse to give you any explanation, " said IvanFedorovitch vehemently; and he rose without another word, and went andstood on the first step of the flight that led from the verandah to thestreet, turning his back on the company. He was indignant with LizabethaProkofievna, who did not think of moving even now. 

"Gentlemen, gentlemen, let me speak at last, " cried the prince, anxiousand agitated. "Please let us understand one another. I say nothing aboutthe article, gentlemen, except that every word is false; I say thisbecause you know it as well as I do. It is shameful. I should besurprised if any one of you could have written it. "

"I did not know of its existence till this moment, " declared Hippolyte. "I do not approve of it. "

"I knew it had been written, but I would not have advised itspublication, " said Lebedeff's nephew, "because it is premature. "

"I knew it, but I have a right. I. . . I. . . " stammered the "son ofPavlicheff. "

"What! Did you write all that yourself? Is it possible?" asked theprince, regarding Burdovsky with curiosity. 

"One might dispute your right to ask such questions, " observedLebedeff's nephew. 

"I was only surprised that Mr. Burdovsky should have--however, this iswhat I have to say. Since you had already given the matter publicity, why did you object just now, when I began to speak of it to my friends?"

"At last!" murmured Lizabetha Prokofievna indignantly. 

Lebedeff could restrain himself no longer; he made his way through therow of chairs. 

"Prince, " he cried, "you are forgetting that if you consented to receiveand hear them, it was only because of your kind heart which has noequal, for they had not the least right to demand it, especially as youhad placed the matter in the hands of Gavrila Ardalionovitch, whichwas also extremely kind of you. You are also forgetting, most excellentprince, that you are with friends, a select company; you cannotsacrifice them to these gentlemen, and it is only for you to have themturned out this instant. As the master of the house I shall have greatpleasure . . . . "

"Quite right!" agreed General Ivolgin in a loud voice. 

"That will do, Lebedeff, that will do--" began the prince, when anindignant outcry drowned his words. 

"Excuse me, prince, excuse me, but now that will not do, " shoutedLebedeff's nephew, his voice dominating all the others. "The matter mustbe clearly stated, for it is obviously not properly understood. Theyare calling in some legal chicanery, and upon that ground they arethreatening to turn us out of the house! Really, prince, do you think weare such fools as not to be aware that this matter does not come withinthe law, and that legally we cannot claim a rouble from you? But we arealso aware that if actual law is not on our side, human law is for us, natural law, the law of common-sense and conscience, which is no lessbinding upon every noble and honest man--that is, every man of sanejudgment--because it is not to be found in miserable legal codes. If wecome here without fear of being turned out (as was threatened just now)because of the imperative tone of our demand, and the unseemliness ofsuch a visit at this late hour (though it was not late when we arrived, we were kept waiting in your anteroom), if, I say, we came in withoutfear, it is just because we expected to find you a man of sense; I mean, a man of honour and conscience. It is quite true that we did not presentourselves humbly, like your flatterers and parasites, but holding up ourheads as befits independent men. We present no petition, but a proud andfree demand (note it well, we do not beseech, we demand!). We ask youfairly and squarely in a dignified manner. Do you believe that in thisaffair of Burdovsky you have right on your side? Do you admit thatPavlicheff overwhelmed you with benefits, and perhaps saved your life?If you admit it (which we take for granted), do you intend, now that youare a millionaire, and do you not think it in conformity with justice, to indemnify Burdovsky? Yes or no? If it is yes, or, in other words, ifyou possess what you call honour and conscience, and we more justly callcommon-sense, then accede to our demand, and the matter is at an end. Give us satisfaction, without entreaties or thanks from us; do notexpect thanks from us, for what you do will be done not for our sake, but for the sake of justice. If you refuse to satisfy us, that is, ifyour answer is no, we will go away at once, and there will be an end ofthe matter. But we will tell you to your face before the present companythat you are a man of vulgar and undeveloped mind; we will openly denyyou the right to speak in future of your honour and conscience, for youhave not paid the fair price of such a right. I have no more to say--Ihave put the question before you. Now turn us out if you dare. You cando it; force is on your side. But remember that we do not beseech, wedemand! We do not beseech, we demand!"

With these last excited words, Lebedeff's nephew was silent. 

"We demand, we demand, we demand, we do not beseech, " splutteredBurdovsky, red as a lobster. 

The speech of Lebedeff's nephew caused a certain stir among the company;murmurs arose, though with the exception of Lebedeff, who was stillvery much excited, everyone was careful not to interfere in the matter. Strangely enough, Lebedeff, although on the prince's side, seemed quiteproud of his nephew's eloquence. Gratified vanity was visible in theglances he cast upon the assembled company. 

"In my opinion, Mr. Doktorenko, " said the prince, in rather a lowvoice, "you are quite right in at least half of what you say. I wouldgo further and say that you are altogether right, and that I quite agreewith you, if there were not something lacking in your speech. I cannotundertake to say precisely what it is, but you have certainly omittedsomething, and you cannot be quite just while there is somethinglacking. But let us put that aside and return to the point. Tell me whatinduced you to publish this article. Every word of it is a calumny, andI think, gentlemen, that you have been guilty of a mean action. "

"Allow me--"

"Sir--"

"What? What? What?" cried all the visitors at once, in violentagitation. 

"As to the article, " said Hippolyte in his croaking voice, "I have toldyou already that we none of us approve of it! There is the writer, " headded, pointing to the boxer, who sat beside him. "I quite admit that hehas written it in his old regimental manner, with an equal disregardfor style and decency. I know he is a cross between a fool and anadventurer; I make no bones about telling him so to his face every day. But after all he is half justified; publicity is the lawful right ofevery man; consequently, Burdovsky is not excepted. Let him answer forhis own blunders. As to the objection which I made just now in the nameof all, to the presence of your friends, I think I ought to explain, gentlemen, that I only did so to assert our rights, though we reallywished to have witnesses; we had agreed unanimously upon the pointbefore we came in. We do not care who your witnesses may be, orwhether they are your friends or not. As they cannot fail to recognizeBurdovsky's right (seeing that it is mathematically demonstrable), it isjust as well that the witnesses should be your friends. The truth willonly be more plainly evident. "

"It is quite true; we had agreed upon that point, " said Lebedeff'snephew, in confirmation. 

"If that is the case, why did you begin by making such a fuss about it?"asked the astonished prince. 

The boxer was dying to get in a few words; owing, no doubt, to thepresence of the ladies, he was becoming quite jovial. 

"As to the article, prince, " he said, "I admit that I wrote it, in spiteof the severe criticism of my poor friend, in whom I always overlookmany things because of his unfortunate state of health. But I wrote andpublished it in the form of a letter, in the paper of a friend. I showedit to no one but Burdovsky, and I did not read it all through, even tohim. He immediately gave me permission to publish it, but you will admitthat I might have done so without his consent. Publicity is a noble, beneficent, and universal right. I hope, prince, that you are tooprogressive to deny this?"

"I deny nothing, but you must confess that your article--"

"Is a bit thick, you mean? Well, in a way that is in the publicinterest; you will admit that yourself, and after all one cannotoverlook a blatant fact. So much the worse for the guilty parties, but the public welfare must come before everything. As to certaininaccuracies and figures of speech, so to speak, you will also admitthat the motive, aim, and intention, are the chief thing. It is aquestion, above all, of making a wholesome example; the individual casecan be examined afterwards; and as to the style--well, the thing wasmeant to be humorous, so to speak, and, after all, everybody writes likethat; you must admit it yourself! Ha, ha!"

"But, gentlemen, I assure you that you are quite astray, " exclaimed theprince. "You have published this article upon the supposition that Iwould never consent to satisfy Mr. Burdovsky. Acting on that conviction, you have tried to intimidate me by this publication and to be revengedfor my supposed refusal. But what did you know of my intentions? It maybe that I have resolved to satisfy Mr. Burdovsky's claim. I now declareopenly, in the presence of these witnesses, that I will do so. "

"The noble and intelligent word of an intelligent and most noble man, atlast!" exclaimed the boxer. 

"Good God!" exclaimed Lizabetha Prokofievna involuntarily. 

"This is intolerable, " growled the general. 

"Allow me, gentlemen, allow me, " urged the prince. 

"I will explain matters to you. Five weeks ago I received a visit fromTchebaroff, your agent, Mr. Burdovsky. You have given a very flatteringdescription of him in your article, Mr. Keller, " he continued, turningto the boxer with a smile, "but he did not please me at all. I saw atonce that Tchebaroff was the moving spirit in the matter, and, to speakfrankly, I thought he might have induced you, Mr. Burdovsky, to makethis claim, by taking advantage of your simplicity. "

"You have no right. . . . I am not simple, " stammered Burdovsky, muchagitated. 

"You have no sort of right to suppose such things, " said Lebedeff'snephew in a tone of authority. 

"It is most offensive!" shrieked Hippolyte; "it is an insultingsuggestion, false, and most ill-timed. "

"I beg your pardon, gentlemen; please excuse me, " said the prince. "Ithought absolute frankness on both sides would be best, but have it yourown way. I told Tchebaroff that, as I was not in Petersburg, I wouldcommission a friend to look into the matter without delay, and that Iwould let you know, Mr. Burdovsky. Gentlemen, I have no hesitation intelling you that it was the fact of Tchebaroff's intervention that mademe suspect a fraud. Oh! do not take offence at my words, gentlemen, for Heaven's sake do not be so touchy!" cried the prince, seeing thatBurdovsky was getting excited again, and that the rest were preparingto protest. "If I say I suspected a fraud, there is nothing personal inthat. I had never seen any of you then; I did not even know your names;I only judged by Tchebaroff; I am speaking quite generally--if you onlyknew how I have been 'done' since I came into my fortune!"

"You are shockingly naive, prince, " said Lebedeff's nephew in mockingtones. 

"Besides, though you are a prince and a millionaire, and even thoughyou may really be simple and good-hearted, you can hardly be outside thegeneral law, " Hippolyte declared loudly. 

"Perhaps not; it is very possible, " the prince agreed hastily, "though Ido not know what general law you allude to. I will go on--only pleasedo not take offence without good cause. I assure you I do not mean tooffend you in the least. Really, it is impossible to speak three wordssincerely without your flying into a rage! At first I was amazed whenTchebaroff told me that Pavlicheff had a son, and that he was in sucha miserable position. Pavlicheff was my benefactor, and my father'sfriend. Oh, Mr. Keller, why does your article impute things to my fatherwithout the slightest foundation? He never squandered the funds of hiscompany nor ill-treated his subordinates, I am absolutely certain of it;I cannot imagine how you could bring yourself to write such a calumny!But your assertions concerning Pavlicheff are absolutely intolerable!You do not scruple to make a libertine of that noble man; you call him asensualist as coolly as if you were speaking the truth, and yet it wouldnot be possible to find a chaster man. He was even a scholar of note, and in correspondence with several celebrated scientists, and spentlarge sums in the interests of science. As to his kind heart and hisgood actions, you were right indeed when you said that I was almost anidiot at that time, and could hardly understand anything--(I couldspeak and understand Russian, though), --but now I can appreciate what Iremember--"

"Excuse me, " interrupted Hippolyte, "is not this rather sentimental? Yousaid you wished to come to the point; please remember that it is afternine o'clock. "

"Very well, gentlemen--very well, " replied the prince. "At first Ireceived the news with mistrust, then I said to myself that I might bemistaken, and that Pavlicheff might possibly have had a son. But I wasabsolutely amazed at the readiness with which the son had revealedthe secret of his birth at the expense of his mother's honour. ForTchebaroff had already menaced me with publicity in our interview. . . . "

"What nonsense!" Lebedeff's nephew interrupted violently. 

"You have no right--you have no right!" cried Burdovsky. 

"The son is not responsible for the misdeeds of his father; and themother is not to blame, " added Hippolyte, with warmth. 

"That seems to me all the more reason for sparing her, " said the princetimidly. 

"Prince, you are not only simple, but your simplicity is almost past thelimit, " said Lebedeff's nephew, with a sarcastic smile. 

"But what right had you?" said Hippolyte in a very strange tone. 

"None--none whatever, " agreed the prince hastily. "I admit you are rightthere, but it was involuntary, and I immediately said to myself that mypersonal feelings had nothing to do with it, --that if I thought it rightto satisfy the demands of Mr. Burdovsky, out of respect for the memoryof Pavlicheff, I ought to do so in any case, whether I esteemed Mr. Burdovsky or not. I only mentioned this, gentlemen, because it seemed sounnatural to me for a son to betray his mother's secret in such a way. In short, that is what convinced me that Tchebaroff must be a rogue, andthat he had induced Mr. Burdovsky to attempt this fraud. "

"But this is intolerable!" cried the visitors, some of them starting totheir feet. 

"Gentlemen, I supposed from this that poor Mr. Burdovsky must be asimple-minded man, quite defenceless, and an easy tool in the handsof rogues. That is why I thought it my duty to try and help himas 'Pavlicheff's son'; in the first place by rescuing him from theinfluence of Tchebaroff, and secondly by making myself his friend. Ihave resolved to give him ten thousand roubles; that is about the sumwhich I calculate that Pavlicheff must have spent on me. "

"What, only ten thousand!" cried Hippolyte. 

"Well, prince, your arithmetic is not up to much, or else you are mightyclever at it, though you affect the air of a simpleton, " said Lebedeff'snephew. 

"I will not accept ten thousand roubles, " said Burdovsky. 

"Accept, Antip, " whispered the boxer eagerly, leaning past the back ofHippolyte's chair to give his friend this piece of advice. "Take it forthe present; we can see about more later on. "

"Look here, Mr. Muishkin, " shouted Hippolyte, "please understand that weare not fools, nor idiots, as your guests seem to imagine; these ladieswho look upon us with such scorn, and especially this fine gentleman"(pointing to Evgenie Pavlovitch) "whom I have not the honour of knowing, though I think I have heard some talk about him--"

"Really, really, gentlemen, " cried the prince in great agitation, "youare misunderstanding me again. In the first place, Mr. Keller, you havegreatly overestimated my fortune in your article. I am far from beinga millionaire. I have barely a tenth of what you suppose. Secondly, mytreatment in Switzerland was very far from costing tens of thousands ofroubles. Schneider received six hundred roubles a year, and he wasonly paid for the first three years. As to the pretty governesses whomPavlicheff is supposed to have brought from Paris, they only existin Mr. Keller's imagination; it is another calumny. According to mycalculations, the sum spent on me was very considerably under tenthousand roubles, but I decided on that sum, and you must admit thatin paying a debt I could not offer Mr. Burdovsky more, however kindlydisposed I might be towards him; delicacy forbids it; I should seem tobe offering him charity instead of rightful payment. I don't know howyou cannot see that, gentlemen! Besides, I had no intention of leavingthe matter there. I meant to intervene amicably later on and help toimprove poor Mr. Burdovsky's position. It is clear that he has beendeceived, or he would never have agreed to anything so vile as thescandalous revelations about his mother in Mr. Keller's article. But, gentlemen, why are you getting angry again? Are we never to come to anunderstanding? Well, the event has proved me right! I have just seenwith my own eyes the proof that my conjecture was correct!" he added, with increasing eagerness. 

He meant to calm his hearers, and did not perceive that his words hadonly increased their irritation. 

"What do you mean? What are you convinced of?" they demanded angrily. 

"In the first place, I have had the opportunity of getting a correctidea of Mr. Burdovsky. I see what he is for myself. He is an innocentman, deceived by everyone! A defenceless victim, who deservesindulgence! Secondly, Gavrila Ardalionovitch, in whose hands I hadplaced the matter, had his first interview with me barely an hour ago. I had not heard from him for some time, as I was away, and have been illfor three days since my return to St. Petersburg. He tells me that hehas exposed the designs of Tchebaroff and has proof that justifies myopinion of him. I know, gentlemen, that many people think me an idiot. Counting upon my reputation as a man whose purse-strings are easilyloosened, Tchebaroff thought it would be a simple matter to fleece me, especially by trading on my gratitude to Pavlicheff. But the mainpoint is--listen, gentlemen, let me finish!--the main point is that Mr. Burdovsky is not Pavlicheff's son at all. Gavrila Ardalionovitch hasjust told me of his discovery, and assures me that he has positiveproofs. Well, what do you think of that? It is scarcely credible, evenafter all the tricks that have been played upon me. Please note that wehave positive proofs! I can hardly believe it myself, I assure you; I donot yet believe it; I am still doubtful, because Gavrila Ardalionovitchhas not had time to go into details; but there can be no further doubtthat Tchebaroff is a rogue! He has deceived poor Mr. Burdovsky, andall of you, gentlemen, who have come forward so nobly to support yourfriend--(he evidently needs support, I quite see that!). He has abusedyour credulity and involved you all in an attempted fraud, for when allis said and done this claim is nothing else!"

"What! a fraud? What, he is not Pavlicheff's son? Impossible!"

These exclamations but feebly expressed the profound bewilderment intowhich the prince's words had plunged Burdovsky's companions. 

"Certainly it is a fraud! Since Mr. Burdovsky is not Pavlicheff's son, his claim is neither more nor less than attempted fraud (supposing, ofcourse, that he had known the truth), but the fact is that he has beendeceived. I insist on this point in order to justify him; I repeat thathis simple-mindedness makes him worthy of pity, and that he cannot standalone; otherwise he would have behaved like a scoundrel in this matter. But I feel certain that he does not understand it! I was just the samemyself before I went to Switzerland; I stammered incoherently; one triesto express oneself and cannot. I understand that. I am all the betterable to pity Mr. Burdovsky, because I know from experience what it is tobe like that, and so I have a right to speak. Well, though there is nosuch person as 'Pavlicheff's son, ' and it is all nothing but a humbug, yet I will keep to my decision, and I am prepared to give up tenthousand roubles in memory of Pavlicheff. Before Mr. Burdovsky made thisclaim, I proposed to found a school with this money, in memory of mybenefactor, but I shall honour his memory quite as well by givingthe ten thousand roubles to Mr. Burdovsky, because, though he was notPavlicheff's son, he was treated almost as though he were. That iswhat gave a rogue the opportunity of deceiving him; he really didthink himself Pavlicheff's son. Listen, gentlemen; this matter mustbe settled; keep calm; do not get angry; and sit down! GavrilaArdalionovitch will explain everything to you at once, and I confessthat I am very anxious to hear all the details myself. He says that hehas even been to Pskoff to see your mother, Mr. Burdovsky; she is notdead, as the article which was just read to us makes out. Sit down, gentlemen, sit down!"

The prince sat down, and at length prevailed upon Burdovsky's companyto do likewise. During the last ten or twenty minutes, exasperated bycontinual interruptions, he had raised his voice, and spoken withgreat vehemence. Now, no doubt, he bitterly regretted several words andexpressions which had escaped him in his excitement. If he had not beendriven beyond the limits of endurance, he would not have ventured toexpress certain conjectures so openly. He had no sooner sat down thanhis heart was torn by sharp remorse. Besides insulting Burdovskywith the supposition, made in the presence of witnesses, that he wassuffering from the complaint for which he had himself been treatedin Switzerland, he reproached himself with the grossest indelicacy inhaving offered him the ten thousand roubles before everyone. "I oughtto have waited till to-morrow and offered him the money when we werealone, " thought Muishkin. "Now it is too late, the mischief is done!Yes, I am an idiot, an absolute idiot!" he said to himself, overcomewith shame and regret. 

Till then Gavrila Ardalionovitch had sat apart in silence. When theprince called upon him, he came and stood by his side, and in a calm, clear voice began to render an account of the mission confided to him. All conversation ceased instantly. Everyone, especially the Burdovskyparty, listened with the utmost curiosity. 

IX. 

"You will not deny, I am sure, " said Gavrila Ardalionovitch, turningto Burdovsky, who sat looking at him with wide-open eyes, perplexed andastonished. You will not deny, seriously, that you were born just twoyears after your mother's legal marriage to Mr. Burdovsky, your father. Nothing would be easier than to prove the date of your birth fromwell-known facts; we can only look on Mr. Keller's version as a work ofimagination, and one, moreover, extremely offensive both to you and yourmother. Of course he distorted the truth in order to strengthen yourclaim, and to serve your interests. Mr. Keller said that he previouslyconsulted you about his article in the paper, but did not read it to youas a whole. Certainly he could not have read that passage. . . . . 

"As a matter of fact, I did not read it, " interrupted the boxer, "butits contents had been given me on unimpeachable authority, and I. . . "

"Excuse me, Mr. Keller, " interposed Gavrila Ardalionovitch. "Allow me tospeak. I assure you your article shall be mentioned in its proper place, and you can then explain everything, but for the moment I would rathernot anticipate. Quite accidentally, with the help of my sister, VarvaraArdalionovna Ptitsin, I obtained from one of her intimate friends, Madame Zoubkoff, a letter written to her twenty-five years ago, by Nicolai Andreevitch Pavlicheff, then abroad. After gettinginto communication with this lady, I went by her advice to TimofeiFedorovitch Viazovkin, a retired colonel, and one of Pavlicheff's oldestfriends. He gave me two more letters written by the latter when he wasstill in foreign parts. These three documents, their dates, and thefacts mentioned in them, prove in the most undeniable manner, thateighteen months before your birth, Nicolai Andreevitch went abroad, where he remained for three consecutive years. Your mother, as you arewell aware, has never been out of Russia. . . . It is too late to read theletters now; I am content to state the fact. But if you desire it, cometo me tomorrow morning, bring witnesses and writing experts with you, and I will prove the absolute truth of my story. From that moment thequestion will be decided. "

These words caused a sensation among the listeners, and there was ageneral movement of relief. Burdovsky got up abruptly. 

"If that is true, " said he, "I have been deceived, grossly deceived, butnot by Tchebaroff: and for a long time past, a long time. I do notwish for experts, not I, nor to go to see you. I believe you. I give itup. . . . But I refuse the ten thousand roubles. Good-bye. "

"Wait five minutes more, Mr. Burdovsky, " said Gavrila Ardalionovitchpleasantly. "I have more to say. Some rather curious and important factshave come to light, and it is absolutely necessary, in my opinion, thatyou should hear them. You will not regret, I fancy, to have the wholematter thoroughly cleared up. "

Burdovsky silently resumed his seat, and bent his head as though inprofound thought. His friend, Lebedeff's nephew, who had risen toaccompany him, also sat down again. He seemed much disappointed, thoughas self-confident as ever. Hippolyte looked dejected and sulky, as wellas surprised. He had just been attacked by a violent fit of coughing, so that his handkerchief was stained with blood. The boxer lookedthoroughly frightened. 

"Oh, Antip!" cried he in a miserable voice, "I did say to you theother day--the day before yesterday--that perhaps you were not reallyPavlicheff's son!"

There were sounds of half-smothered laughter at this. 

"Now, that is a valuable piece of information, Mr. Keller, " repliedGania. "However that may be, I have private information which convincesme that Mr. Burdovsky, though doubtless aware of the date of his birth, knew nothing at all about Pavlicheff's sojourn abroad. Indeed, he passedthe greater part of his life out of Russia, returning at intervals forshort visits. The journey in question is in itself too unimportant forhis friends to recollect it after more than twenty years; and of courseMr. Burdovsky could have known nothing about it, for he was not born. As the event has proved, it was not impossible to find evidence of hisabsence, though I must confess that chance has helped me in a questwhich might very well have come to nothing. It was really almostimpossible for Burdovsky or Tchebaroff to discover these facts, even ifit had entered their heads to try. Naturally they never dreamt. . . "

Here the voice of Hippolyte suddenly intervened. 

"Allow me, Mr. Ivolgin, " he said irritably. "What is the good of allthis rigmarole? Pardon me. All is now clear, and we acknowledge thetruth of your main point. Why go into these tedious details? You wishperhaps to boast of the cleverness of your investigation, to cry up yourtalents as detective? Or perhaps your intention is to excuse Burdovsky, by roving that he took up the matter in ignorance? Well, I consider thatextremely impudent on your part! You ought to know that Burdovsky hasno need of being excused or justified by you or anyone else! It is aninsult! The affair is quite painful enough for him without that. Willnothing make you understand?"

"Enough! enough! Mr. Terentieff, " interrupted Gania. 

"Don't excite yourself; you seem very ill, and I am sorry for that. I amalmost done, but there are a few facts to which I must briefly refer, asI am convinced that they ought to be clearly explained once for all. . . . "A movement of impatience was noticed in his audience as he resumed: "Imerely wish to state, for the information of all concerned, that thereason for Mr. Pavlicheff's interest in your mother, Mr. Burdovsky, wassimply that she was the sister of a serf-girl with whom he was deeply inlove in his youth, and whom most certainly he would have married but forher sudden death. I have proofs that this circumstance is almost, if notquite, forgotten. I may add that when your mother was about ten yearsold, Pavlicheff took her under his care, gave her a good education, andlater, a considerable dowry. His relations were alarmed, and fearedhe might go so far as to marry her, but she gave her hand to a youngland-surveyor named Burdovsky when she reached the age of twenty. Ican even say definitely that it was a marriage of affection. After hiswedding your father gave up his occupation as land-surveyor, and withhis wife's dowry of fifteen thousand roubles went in for commercialspeculations. As he had had no experience, he was cheated on all sides, and took to drink in order to forget his troubles. He shortened his lifeby his excesses, and eight years after his marriage he died. Your mothersays herself that she was left in the direst poverty, and would havedied of starvation had it not been for Pavlicheff, who generouslyallowed her a yearly pension of six hundred roubles. Many people recallhis extreme fondness for you as a little boy. Your mother confirms this, and agrees with others in thinking that he loved you the more becauseyou were a sickly child, stammering in your speech, and almostdeformed--for it is known that all his life Nicolai Andreevitch had apartiality for unfortunates of every kind, especially children. In myopinion this is most important. I may add that I discovered yet anotherfact, the last on which I employed my detective powers. Seeing how fondPavlicheff was of you, --it was thanks to him you went to school, andalso had the advantage of special teachers--his relations and servantsgrew to believe that you were his son, and that your father had beenbetrayed by his wife. I may point out that this idea was only accreditedgenerally during the last years of Pavlicheff's life, when hisnext-of-kin were trembling about the succession, when the earlier storywas quite forgotten, and when all opportunity for discovering the truthhad seemingly passed away. No doubt you, Mr. Burdovsky, heard thisconjecture, and did not hesitate to accept it as true. I have had thehonour of making your mother's acquaintance, and I find that she knowsall about these reports. What she does not know is that you, her son, should have listened to them so complaisantly. I found your respectedmother at Pskoff, ill and in deep poverty, as she has been ever sincethe death of your benefactor. She told me with tears of gratitude howyou had supported her; she expects much of you, and believes ferventlyin your future success. . . "

"Oh, this is unbearable!" said Lebedeff's nephew impatiently. "What isthe good of all this romancing?"

"It is revolting and unseemly!" cried Hippolyte, jumping up in a fury. 

Burdovsky alone sat silent and motionless. 

"What is the good of it?" repeated Gavrila Ardalionovitch, withpretended surprise. "Well, firstly, because now perhaps Mr. Burdovskyis quite convinced that Mr. Pavlicheff's love for him came simply fromgenerosity of soul, and not from paternal duty. It was most necessaryto impress this fact upon his mind, considering that he approved of thearticle written by Mr. Keller. I speak thus because I look on you, Mr. Burdovsky, as an honourable man. Secondly, it appears that there was nointention of cheating in this case, even on the part of Tchebaroff. Iwish to say this quite plainly, because the prince hinted a whileago that I too thought it an attempt at robbery and extortion. On thecontrary, everyone has been quite sincere in the matter, and althoughTchebaroff may be somewhat of a rogue, in this business he has actedsimply as any sharp lawyer would do under the circumstances. He lookedat it as a case that might bring him in a lot of money, and he did notcalculate badly; because on the one hand he speculated on the generosityof the prince, and his gratitude to the late Mr. Pavlicheff, and onthe other to his chivalrous ideas as to the obligations of honour andconscience. As to Mr. Burdovsky, allowing for his principles, we mayacknowledge that he engaged in the business with very little personalaim in view. At the instigation of Tchebaroff and his other friends, he decided to make the attempt in the service of truth, progress, andhumanity. In short, the conclusion may be drawn that, in spite of allappearances, Mr. Burdovsky is a man of irreproachable character, andthus the prince can all the more readily offer him his friendship, andthe assistance of which he spoke just now. . . "

"Hush! hush! Gavrila Ardalionovitch!" cried Muishkin in dismay, but itwas too late. 

"I said, and I have repeated it over and over again, " shouted Burdovskyfuriously, "that I did not want the money. I will not take it. . . Why. . . Iwill not. . . I am going away!"

He was rushing hurriedly from the terrace, when Lebedeff's nephew seizedhis arms, and said something to him in a low voice. Burdovsky turnedquickly, and drawing an addressed but unsealed envelope from his pocket, he threw it down on a little table beside the prince. 

"There's the money!. . . How dare you?. . . The money!"

"Those are the two hundred and fifty roubles you dared to send him as acharity, by the hands of Tchebaroff, " explained Doktorenko. 

"The article in the newspaper put it at fifty!" cried Colia. 

"I beg your pardon, " said the prince, going up to Burdovsky. "I havedone you a great wrong, but I did not send you that money as a charity, believe me. And now I am again to blame. I offended you just now. " (Theprince was much distressed; he seemed worn out with fatigue, and spokealmost incoherently. ) "I spoke of swindling. . . But I did not apply thatto you. I was deceived . . . . I said you were. . . Afflicted. . . Like me. . . But you are not like me. . . You give lessons. . . You support your mother. I said you had dishonoured your mother, but you love her. She says soherself. . . I did not know. . . Gavrila Ardalionovitch did not tell methat. . . Forgive me! I dared to offer you ten thousand roubles, but I waswrong. I ought to have done it differently, and now. . . There is no wayof doing it, for you despise me. . . "

"I declare, this is a lunatic asylum!" cried Lizabetha Prokofievna. 

"Of course it is a lunatic asylum!" repeated Aglaya sharply, but herwords were overpowered by other voices. Everybody was talking loudly, making remarks and comments; some discussed the affair gravely, otherslaughed. Ivan Fedorovitch Epanchin was extremely indignant. He stoodwaiting for his wife with an air of offended dignity. Lebedeff's nephewtook up the word again. 

"Well, prince, to do you justice, you certainly know how to make themost of your--let us call it infirmity, for the sake of politeness; youhave set about offering your money and friendship in such a way thatno self-respecting man could possibly accept them. This is an excess ofingenuousness or of malice--you ought to know better than anyone whichword best fits the case. "

"Allow me, gentlemen, " said Gavrila Ardalionovitch, who had justexamined the contents of the envelope, "there are only a hundred roubleshere, not two hundred and fifty. I point this out, prince, to preventmisunderstanding. "

"Never mind, never mind, " said the prince, signing to him to keep quiet. 

"But we do mind, " said Lebedeff's nephew vehemently. "Prince, your'never mind' is an insult to us. We have nothing to hide; our actionscan bear daylight. It is true that there are only a hundred roublesinstead of two hundred and fifty, but it is all the same. "

"Why, no, it is hardly the same, " remarked Gavrila Ardalionovitch, withan air of ingenuous surprise. 

"Don't interrupt, we are not such fools as you think, Mr. Lawyer, " criedLebedeff's nephew angrily. "Of course there is a difference betweena hundred roubles and two hundred and fifty, but in this case theprinciple is the main point, and that a hundred and fifty roublesare missing is only a side issue. The point to be emphasized is thatBurdovsky will not accept your highness's charity; he flings it back inyour face, and it scarcely matters if there are a hundred roubles or twohundred and fifty. Burdovsky has refused ten thousand roubles; youheard him. He would not have returned even a hundred roubles if he wasdishonest! The hundred and fifty roubles were paid to Tchebaroff forhis travelling expenses. You may jeer at our stupidity and at ourinexperience in business matters; you have done all you could already tomake us look ridiculous; but do not dare to call us dishonest. Thefour of us will club together every day to repay the hundred and fiftyroubles to the prince, if we have to pay it in instalments of a roubleat a time, but we will repay it, with interest. Burdovsky is poor, hehas no millions. After his journey to see the prince Tchebaroff sent inhis bill. We counted on winning. . . Who would not have done the same insuch a case?"

"Who indeed?" exclaimed Prince S. 

"I shall certainly go mad, if I stay here!" cried Lizabetha Prokofievna. 

"It reminds me, " said Evgenie Pavlovitch, laughing, "of the famous pleaof a certain lawyer who lately defended a man for murdering six peoplein order to rob them. He excused his client on the score of poverty. 'It is quite natural, ' he said in conclusion, 'considering the stateof misery he was in, that he should have thought of murdering these sixpeople; which of you, gentlemen, would not have done the same in hisplace?'"

"Enough, " cried Lizabetha Prokofievna abruptly, trembling with anger, "we have had enough of this balderdash!"

In a state of terrible excitement she threw back her head, with flamingeyes, casting looks of contempt and defiance upon the whole company, in which she could no longer distinguish friend from foe. She hadrestrained herself so long that she felt forced to vent her rage onsomebody. Those who knew Lizabetha Prokofievna saw at once how it waswith her. "She flies into these rages sometimes, " said Ivan Fedorovitchto Prince S. The next day, "but she is not often so violent as she wasyesterday; it does not happen more than once in three years. "

"Be quiet, Ivan Fedorovitch! Leave me alone!" cried Mrs. Epanchin. "Whydo you offer me your arm now? You had not sense enough to take me awaybefore. You are my husband, you are a father, it was your duty to dragme away by force, if in my folly I refused to obey you and go quietly. You might at least have thought of your daughters. We can find ourway out now without your help. Here is shame enough for a year! Waita moment 'till I thank the prince! Thank you, prince, for theentertainment you have given us! It was most amusing to hear these youngmen. . . It is vile, vile! A chaos, a scandal, worse than a nightmare!Is it possible that there can be many such people on earth? Be quiet, Aglaya! Be quiet, Alexandra! It is none of your business! Don't fussround me like that, Evgenie Pavlovitch; you exasperate me! So, my dear, "she cried, addressing the prince, "you go so far as to beg theirpardon! He says, 'Forgive me for offering you a fortune. ' And you, youmountebank, what are you laughing at?" she cried, turning suddenly onLebedeff's nephew. "'We refuse ten thousand roubles; we do not beseech, we demand!' As if he did not know that this idiot will call on themtomorrow to renew his offers of money and friendship. You will, won'tyou? You will? Come, will you, or won't you?"

"I shall, " said the prince, with gentle humility. 

"You hear him! You count upon it, too, " she continued, turning uponDoktorenko. "You are as sure of him now as if you had the money in yourpocket. And there you are playing the swaggerer to throw dust in oureyes! No, my dear sir, you may take other people in! I can see throughall your airs and graces, I see your game!"

"Lizabetha Prokofievna!" exclaimed the prince. 

"Come, Lizabetha Prokofievna, it is quite time for us to be going, we will take the prince with us, " said Prince S. With a smile, in thecoolest possible way. 

The girls stood apart, almost frightened; their father was positivelyhorrified. Mrs. Epanchin's language astonished everybody. Some who stooda little way off smiled furtively, and talked in whispers. Lebedeff worean expression of utmost ecstasy. 

"Chaos and scandal are to be found everywhere, madame, " remarkedDoktorenko, who was considerably put out of countenance. 

"Not like this! Nothing like the spectacle you have just given us, sir, "answered Lizabetha Prokofievna, with a sort of hysterical rage. "Leaveme alone, will you?" she cried violently to those around her, who weretrying to keep her quiet. "No, Evgenie Pavlovitch, if, as you saidyourself just now, a lawyer said in open court that he found it quitenatural that a man should murder six people because he was in misery, the world must be coming to an end. I had not heard of it before. NowI understand everything. And this stutterer, won't he turn out amurderer?" she cried, pointing to Burdovsky, who was staring at her withstupefaction. "I bet he will! He will have none of your money, possibly, he will refuse it because his conscience will not allow him to acceptit, but he will go murdering you by night and walking off with yourcashbox, with a clear conscience! He does not call it a dishonest actionbut 'the impulse of a noble despair'; 'a negation'; or the devil knowswhat! Bah! everything is upside down, everyone walks head downwards. Ayoung girl, brought up at home, suddenly jumps into a cab in themiddle of the street, saying: 'Good-bye, mother, I married Karlitch, orIvanitch, the other day!' And you think it quite right? You call suchconduct estimable and natural? The 'woman question'? Look here, " shecontinued, pointing to Colia, "the other day that whippersnapper toldme that this was the whole meaning of the 'woman question. ' But evensupposing that your mother is a fool, you are none the less, bound totreat her with humanity. Why did you come here tonight so insolently?'Give us our rights, but don't dare to speak in our presence. Show usevery mark of deepest respect, while we treat you like the scum ofthe earth. ' The miscreants have written a tissue of calumny in theirarticle, and these are the men who seek for truth, and do battle for theright! 'We do not beseech, we demand, you will get no thanks fromus, because you will be acting to satisfy your own conscience!'What morality! But, good heavens! if you declare that the prince'sgenerosity will, excite no gratitude in you, he might answer that he isnot, bound to be grateful to Pavlicheff, who also was only satisfyinghis own conscience. But you counted on the prince's, gratitude towardsPavlicheff; you never lent him any money; he owes you nothing; then whatwere you counting upon if not on his gratitude? And if you appeal tothat sentiment in others, why should you expect to be exempted fromit? They are mad! They say society is savage and inhuman because itdespises a young girl who has been seduced. But if you call societyinhuman you imply that the young girl is made to suffer by its censure. How then, can you hold her up to the scorn of society in the newspaperswithout realizing that you are making her suffering, still greater?Madmen! Vain fools! They don't believe in God, they don't believe inChrist! But you are so eaten up by pride and vanity, that you will endby devouring each other--that is my prophecy! Is not this absurd? Is itnot monstrous chaos? And after all this, that shameless creature willgo and beg their pardon! Are there many people like you? What areyou smiling at? Because I am not ashamed to disgrace myself beforeyou?--Yes, I am disgraced--it can't be helped now! But don't you jeer atme, you scum!" (this was aimed at Hippolyte). "He is almost at his lastgasp, yet he corrupts others. You, have got hold of this lad "--(shepointed to Colia); "you, have turned his head, you have taught him tobe an atheist, you don't believe in God, and you are not too old to bewhipped, sir! A plague upon you! And so, Prince Lef Nicolaievitch, you will call on them tomorrow, will you?" she asked the princebreathlessly, for the second time. 

"Yes. "

"Then I will never speak to you again. " She made a sudden movement togo, and then turned quickly back. "And you will call on that atheist?"she continued, pointing to Hippolyte. "How dare you grin at me likethat?" she shouted furiously, rushing at the invalid, whose mockingsmile drove her to distraction. 

Exclamations arose on all sides. 

"Lizabetha Prokofievna! Lizabetha Prokofievna! Lizabetha Prokofievna!"

"Mother, this is disgraceful!" cried Aglaya. 

Mrs. Epanchin had approached Hippolyte and seized him firmly by the arm, while her eyes, blazing with fury, were fixed upon his face. 

"Do not distress yourself, Aglaya Ivanovitch, " he answered calmly; "yourmother knows that one cannot strike a dying man. I am ready to explainwhy I was laughing. I shall be delighted if you will let me--"

A violent fit of coughing, which lasted a full minute, prevented himfrom finishing his sentence. 

"He is dying, yet he will not stop holding forth!" cried LizabethaProkofievna. She loosed her hold on his arm, almost terrified, as shesaw him wiping the blood from his lips. "Why do you talk? You ought togo home to bed. "

"So I will, " he whispered hoarsely. "As soon as I get home I will go tobed at once; and I know I shall be dead in a fortnight; Botkine told meso himself last week. That is why I should like to say a few farewellwords, if you will let me. "

"But you must be mad! It is ridiculous! You should take care ofyourself; what is the use of holding a conversation now? Go home to bed, do!" cried Mrs. Epanchin in horror. 

"When I do go to bed I shall never get up again, " said Hippolyte, with asmile. "I meant to take to my bed yesterday and stay there till I died, but as my legs can still carry me, I put it off for two days, so as tocome here with them to-day--but I am very tired. "

"Oh, sit down, sit down, why are you standing?"

Lizabetha Prokofievna placed a chair for him with her own hands. 

"Thank you, " he said gently. "Sit opposite to me, and let us talk. Wemust have a talk now, Lizabetha Prokofievna; I am very anxious for it. "He smiled at her once more. "Remember that today, for the last time, Iam out in the air, and in the company of my fellow-men, and that in afortnight I shall I certainly be no longer in this world. So, in a way, this is my farewell to nature and to men. I am not very sentimental, but do you know, I am quite glad that all this has happened at Pavlofsk, where at least one can see a green tree. "

"But why talk now?" replied Lizabetha Prokofievna, more and morealarmed; "are quite feverish. Just now you would not stop shouting, andnow you can hardly breathe. You are gasping. "

"I shall have time to rest. Why will you not grant my last wish? Do youknow, Lizabetha Prokofievna, that I have dreamed of meeting you for along while? I had often heard of you from Colia; he is almost the onlyperson who still comes to see me. You are an original and eccentricwoman; I have seen that for myself--Do you know, I have even been ratherfond of you?"

"Good heavens! And I very nearly struck him!"

"You were prevented by Aglaya Ivanovna. I think I am not mistaken? Thatis your daughter, Aglaya Ivanovna? She is so beautiful that I recognizedher directly, although I had never seen her before. Let me, at least, look on beauty for the last time in my life, " he said with a wry smile. "You are here with the prince, and your husband, and a large company. Why should you refuse to gratify my last wish?"

"Give me a chair!" cried Lizabetha Prokofievna, but she seized one forherself and sat down opposite to Hippolyte. "Colia, you must go homewith him, " she commanded, "and tomorrow I will come my self. "

"Will you let me ask the prince for a cup of tea?. . . I am exhausted. Doyou know what you might do, Lizabetha Prokofievna? I think you wanted totake the prince home with you for tea. Stay here, and let us spendthe evening together. I am sure the prince will give us all some tea. Forgive me for being so free and easy--but I know you are kind, andthe prince is kind, too. In fact, we are all good-natured people--it isreally quite comical. "

The prince bestirred himself to give orders. Lebedeff hurried out, followed by Vera. 

"It is quite true, " said Mrs. Epanchin decisively. "Talk, but not tooloud, and don't excite yourself. You have made me sorry for you. Prince, you don't deserve that I should stay and have tea with you, yet I will, all the same, but I won't apologize. I apologize to nobody! Nobody! Itis absurd! However, forgive me, prince, if I blew you up--that is, ifyou like, of course. But please don't let me keep anyone, " she addedsuddenly to her husband and daughters, in a tone of resentment, asthough they had grievously offended her. "I can come home alone quitewell. "

But they did not let her finish, and gathered round her eagerly. Theprince immediately invited everyone to stay for tea, and apologizedfor not having thought of it before. The general murmured a few politewords, and asked Lizabetha Prokofievna if she did not feel cold on theterrace. He very nearly asked Hippolyte how long he had been at theUniversity, but stopped himself in time. Evgenie Pavlovitch and PrinceS. Suddenly grew extremely gay and amiable. Adelaida and Alexandrahad not recovered from their surprise, but it was now mingled withsatisfaction; in short, everyone seemed very much relieved thatLizabetha Prokofievna had got over her paroxysm. Aglaya alone stillfrowned, and sat apart in silence. All the other guests stayed on aswell; no one wanted to go, not even General Ivolgin, but Lebedeff saidsomething to him in passing which did not seem to please him, for heimmediately went and sulked in a corner. The prince took care to offertea to Burdovsky and his friends as well as the rest. The invitationmade them rather uncomfortable. They muttered that they would wait forHippolyte, and went and sat by themselves in a distant corner of theverandah. Tea was served at once; Lebedeff had no doubt ordered itfor himself and his family before the others arrived. It was strikingeleven. 

X. 

AFTER moistening his lips with the tea which Vera Lebedeff brought him, Hippolyte set the cup down on the table, and glanced round. He seemedconfused and almost at a loss. 

"Just look, Lizabetha Prokofievna, " he began, with a kind of feverishhaste; "these china cups are supposed to be extremely valuable. Lebedeffalways keeps them locked up in his china-cupboard; they were part of hiswife's dowry. Yet he has brought them out tonight--in your honour, ofcourse! He is so pleased--" He was about to add something else, butcould not find the words. 

"There, he is feeling embarrassed; I expected as much, " whisperedEvgenie Pavlovitch suddenly in the prince's ear. "It is a bad sign;what do you think? Now, out of spite, he will come out with somethingso outrageous that even Lizabetha Prokofievna will not be able to standit. "

Muishkin looked at him inquiringly. 

"You do not care if he does?" added Evgenie Pavlovitch. "Neither do I;in fact, I should be glad, merely as a proper punishment for our dearLizabetha Prokofievna. I am very anxious that she should get it, withoutdelay, and I shall stay till she does. You seem feverish. "

"Never mind; by-and-by; yes, I am not feeling well, " said the princeimpatiently, hardly listening. He had just heard Hippolyte mention hisown name. 

"You don't believe it?" said the invalid, with a nervous laugh. "I don'twonder, but the prince will have no difficulty in believing it; he willnot be at all surprised. "

"Do you hear, prince--do you hear that?" said Lizabetha Prokofievna, turning towards him. 

There was laughter in the group around her, and Lebedeff stood beforeher gesticulating wildly. 

"He declares that your humbug of a landlord revised this gentleman'sarticle--the article that was read aloud just now--in which you got sucha charming dressing-down. "

The prince regarded Lebedeff with astonishment. 

"Why don't you say something?" cried Lizabetha Prokofievna, stamping herfoot. 

"Well, " murmured the prince, with his eyes still fixed on Lebedeff, "Ican see now that he did. "

"Is it true?" she asked eagerly. 

"Absolutely, your excellency, " said Lebedeff, without the leasthesitation. 

Mrs. Epanchin almost sprang up in amazement at his answer, and at theassurance of his tone. 

"He actually seems to boast of it!" she cried. 

"I am base--base!" muttered Lebedeff, beating his breast, and hanginghis head. 

"What do I care if you are base or not? He thinks he has only to say, 'I am base, ' and there is an end of it. As to you, prince, are you notashamed?--I repeat, are you not ashamed, to mix with such riff-raff? Iwill never forgive you!"

"The prince will forgive me!" said Lebedeff with emotional conviction. 

Keller suddenly left his seat, and approached Lizabetha. Prokofievna. 

"It was only out of generosity, madame, " he said in a resonant voice, "and because I would not betray a friend in an awkward position, thatI did not mention this revision before; though you heard him yourselfthreatening to kick us down the steps. To clear the matter up, I declarenow that I did have recourse to his assistance, and that I paid him sixroubles for it. But I did not ask him to correct my style; I simply wentto him for information concerning the facts, of which I was ignorantto a great extent, and which he was competent to give. The story of thegaiters, the appetite in the Swiss professor's house, the substitutionof fifty roubles for two hundred and fifty--all such details, in fact, were got from him. I paid him six roubles for them; but he did notcorrect the style. "

"I must state that I only revised the first part of the article, "interposed Lebedeff with feverish impatience, while laughter rose fromall around him; "but we fell out in the middle over one idea, so I nevercorrected the second part. Therefore I cannot be held responsible forthe numerous grammatical blunders in it. "

"That is all he thinks of!" cried Lizabetha Prokofievna. 

"May I ask when this article was revised?" said Evgenie Pavlovitch toKeller. 

"Yesterday morning, " he replied, "we had an interview which we all gaveour word of honour to keep secret. "

"The very time when he was cringing before you and making protestationsof devotion! Oh, the mean wretches! I will have nothing to do with yourPushkin, and your daughter shall not set foot in my house!"

Lizabetha Prokofievna was about to rise, when she saw Hippolytelaughing, and turned upon him with irritation. 

"Well, sir, I suppose you wanted to make me look ridiculous?"

"Heaven forbid!" he answered, with a forced smile. "But I am more thanever struck by your eccentricity, Lizabetha Prokofievna. I admit that Itold you of Lebedeff's duplicity, on purpose. I knew the effect it wouldhave on you, --on you alone, for the prince will forgive him. He hasprobably forgiven him already, and is racking his brains to find someexcuse for him--is not that the truth, prince?"

He gasped as he spoke, and his strange agitation seemed to increase. 

"Well?" said Mrs. Epanchin angrily, surprised at his tone; "well, whatmore?"

"I have heard many things of the kind about you. . . They delighted me. . . Ihave learned to hold you in the highest esteem, " continued Hippolyte. 

His words seemed tinged with a kind of sarcastic mockery, yet he wasextremely agitated, casting suspicious glances around him, growingconfused, and constantly losing the thread of his ideas. All this, together with his consumptive appearance, and the frenzied expression ofhis blazing eyes, naturally attracted the attention of everyone present. 

"I might have been surprised (though I admit I know nothing of theworld), not only that you should have stayed on just now in the companyof such people as myself and my friends, who are not of your class, butthat you should let these. . . Young ladies listen to such a scandalousaffair, though no doubt novel-reading has taught them all there is toknow. I may be mistaken; I hardly know what I am saying; but surelyno one but you would have stayed to please a whippersnapper (yes, a whippersnapper; I admit it) to spend the evening and take part ineverything--only to be ashamed of it tomorrow. (I know I express myselfbadly. ) I admire and appreciate it all extremely, though the expressionon the face of his excellency, your husband, shows that he thinks itvery improper. He-he!" He burst out laughing, and was seized with afit of coughing which lasted for two minutes and prevented him fromspeaking. 

"He has lost his breath now!" said Lizabetha Prokofievna coldly, lookingat him with more curiosity than pity: "Come, my dear boy, that is quiteenough--let us make an end of this. "

Ivan Fedorovitch, now quite out of patience, interrupted suddenly. "Letme remark in my turn, sir, " he said in tones of deep annoyance, "thatmy wife is here as the guest of Prince Lef Nicolaievitch, our friend andneighbour, and that in any case, young man, it is not for you to passjudgment on the conduct of Lizabetha Prokofievna, or to make remarksaloud in my presence concerning what feelings you think may be readin my face. Yes, my wife stayed here, " continued the general, withincreasing irritation, "more out of amazement than anything else. Everyone can understand that a collection of such strange young menwould attract the attention of a person interested in contemporary life. I stayed myself, just as I sometimes stop to look on in the street whenI see something that may be regarded as-as-as-"

"As a curiosity, " suggested Evgenie Pavlovitch, seeing his excellencyinvolved in a comparison which he could not complete. 

"That is exactly the word I wanted, " said the general withsatisfaction--"a curiosity. However, the most astonishing and, if I mayso express myself, the most painful, thing in this matter, is that youcannot even understand, young man, that Lizabetha Prokofievna, onlystayed with you because you are ill, --if you really are dying--movedby the pity awakened by your plaintive appeal, and that hername, character, and social position place her above all risk ofcontamination. Lizabetha Prokofievna!" he continued, now crimson withrage, "if you are coming, we will say goodnight to the prince, and--"

"Thank you for the lesson, general, " said Hippolyte, with unexpectedgravity, regarding him thoughtfully. 

"Two minutes more, if you please, dear Ivan Fedorovitch, " said LizabethaProkofievna to her husband; "it seems to me that he is in a feverand delirious; you can see by his eyes what a state he is in; it isimpossible to let him go back to Petersburg tonight. Can you put himup, Lef Nicolaievitch? I hope you are not bored, dear prince, " sheadded suddenly to Prince S. "Alexandra, my dear, come here! Your hair iscoming down. "

She arranged her daughter's hair, which was not in the least disordered, and gave her a kiss. This was all that she had called her for. 

"I thought you were capable of development, " said Hippolyte, coming outof his fit of abstraction. "Yes, that is what I meant to say, " he added, with the satisfaction of one who suddenly remembers something he hadforgotten. "Here is Burdovsky, sincerely anxious to protect his mother;is not that so? And he himself is the cause of her disgrace. The princeis anxious to help Burdovsky and offers him friendship and a large sumof money, in the sincerity of his heart. And here they stand like twosworn enemies--ha, ha, ha! You all hate Burdovsky because his behaviourwith regard to his mother is shocking and repugnant to you; do you not?Is not that true? Is it not true? You all have a passion for beauty anddistinction in outward forms; that is all you care for, isn't it? I havesuspected for a long time that you cared for nothing else! Well, let metell you that perhaps there is not one of you who loved your mother asBurdovsky loved his. As to you, prince, I know that you have sent moneysecretly to Burdovsky's mother through Gania. Well, I bet now, " hecontinued with an hysterical laugh, "that Burdovsky will accuse you ofindelicacy, and reproach you with a want of respect for his mother! Yes, that is quite certain! Ha, ha, ha!"

He caught his breath, and began to cough once more. 

"Come, that is enough! That is all now; you have no more to say? Nowgo to bed; you are burning with fever, " said Lizabetha Prokofievnaimpatiently. Her anxious eyes had never left the invalid. "Good heavens, he is going to begin again!"

"You are laughing, I think? Why do you keep laughing at me?" saidHippolyte irritably to Evgenie Pavlovitch, who certainly was laughing. 

"I only want to know, Mr. Hippolyte--excuse me, I forget your surname. "

"Mr. Terentieff, " said the prince. 

"Oh yes, Mr. Terentieff. Thank you prince. I heard it just now, but hadforgotten it. I want to know, Mr. Terentieff, if what I have heard aboutyou is true. It seems you are convinced that if you could speak to thepeople from a window for a quarter of an hour, you could make them alladopt your views and follow you?"

"I may have said so, " answered Hippolyte, as if trying to remember. "Yes, I certainly said so, " he continued with sudden animation, fixingan unflinching glance on his questioner. "What of it?"

"Nothing. I was only seeking further information, to put the finishingtouch. " Evgenie Pavlovitch was silent, but Hippolyte kept his eyes fixedupon him, waiting impatiently for more. 

"Well, have you finished?" said Lizabetha Prokofievna to Evgenie. "Makehaste, sir; it is time he went to bed. Have you more to say?" She wasvery angry. 

"Yes, I have a little more, " said Evgenie Pavlovitch, with a smile. "Itseems to me that all you and your friends have said, Mr. Terentieff, andall you have just put forward with such undeniable talent, may be summedup in the triumph of right above all, independent of everything else, tothe exclusion of everything else; perhaps even before having discoveredwhat constitutes the right. I may be mistaken?"

"You are certainly mistaken; I do not even understand you. What else?"

Murmurs arose in the neighbourhood of Burdovsky and his companions;Lebedeff's nephew protested under his breath. 

"I have nearly finished, " replied Evgenie Pavlovitch. 

"I will only remark that from these premises one could conclude thatmight is right--I mean the right of the clenched fist, and of personalinclination. Indeed, the world has often come to that conclusion. Prudhon upheld that might is right. In the American War some of the mostadvanced Liberals took sides with the planters on the score that theblacks were an inferior race to the whites, and that might was the rightof the white race. "

"Well?"

"You mean, no doubt, that you do not deny that might is right?"

"What then?"

"You are at least logical. I would only point out that from the rightof might, to the right of tigers and crocodiles, or even Daniloff andGorsky, is but a step. "

"I know nothing about that; what else?"

Hippolyte was scarcely listening. He kept saying "well?" and "what else?"mechanically, without the least curiosity, and by mere force of habit. 

"Why, nothing else; that is all. "

"However, I bear you no grudge, " said Hippolyte suddenly, and, hardlyconscious of what he was doing, he held out his hand with a smile. Thegesture took Evgenie Pavlovitch by surprise, but with the utmost gravityhe touched the hand that was offered him in token of forgiveness. 

"I can but thank you, " he said, in a tone too respectful to be sincere, "for your kindness in letting me speak, for I have often noticed thatour Liberals never allow other people to have an opinion of their own, and immediately answer their opponents with abuse, if they do not haverecourse to arguments of a still more unpleasant nature. "

"What you say is quite true, " observed General Epanchin; then, claspinghis hands behind his back, he returned to his place on the terracesteps, where he yawned with an air of boredom. 

"Come, sir, that will do; you weary me, " said Lizabetha Prokofievnasuddenly to Evgenie Pavlovitch. 

Hippolyte rose all at once, looking troubled and almost frightened. 

"It is time for me to go, " he said, glancing round in perplexity. "Ihave detained you. . . I wanted to tell you everything. . . I thought youall. . . For the last time. . . It was a whim. . . "

He evidently had sudden fits of returning animation, when he awokefrom his semi-delirium; then, recovering full self-possession for afew moments, he would speak, in disconnected phrases which had perhapshaunted him for a long while on his bed of suffering, during weary, sleepless nights. 

"Well, good-bye, " he said abruptly. "You think it is easy for me to saygood-bye to you? Ha, ha!"

Feeling that his question was somewhat gauche, he smiled angrily. Thenas if vexed that he could not ever express what he really meant, he saidirritably, in a loud voice:

"Excellency, I have the honour of inviting you to my funeral; that is, if you will deign to honour it with your presence. I invite you all, gentlemen, as well as the general. "

He burst out laughing again, but it was the laughter of a madman. Lizabetha Prokofievna approached him anxiously and seized his arm. He stared at her for a moment, still laughing, but soon his face grewserious. 

"Do you know that I came here to see those trees?" pointing to thetrees in the park. "It is not ridiculous, is it? Say that it is notridiculous!" he demanded urgently of Lizabetha Prokofievna. Then heseemed to be plunged in thought. A moment later he raised his head, andhis eyes sought for someone. He was looking for Evgenie Pavlovitch, whowas close by on his right as before, but he had forgotten this, andhis eyes ranged over the assembled company. "Ah! you have not gone!" hesaid, when he caught sight of him at last. "You kept on laughing justnow, because I thought of speaking to the people from the window for aquarter of an hour. But I am not eighteen, you know; lying on that bed, and looking out of that window, I have thought of all sorts of thingsfor such a long time that. . . A dead man has no age, you know. I wassaying that to myself only last week, when I was awake in the night. Doyou know what you fear most? You fear our sincerity more than anything, although you despise us! The idea crossed my mind that night. . . Youthought I was making fun of you just now, Lizabetha Prokofievna? No, theidea of mockery was far from me; I only meant to praise you. Coliatold me the prince called you a child--very well--but let me see, I hadsomething else to say. . . " He covered his face with his hands and triedto collect his thoughts. 

"Ah, yes--you were going away just now, and I thought to myself: 'Ishall never see these people again-never again! This is the last timeI shall see the trees, too. I shall see nothing after this but the redbrick wall of Meyer's house opposite my window. Tell them about it--tryto tell them, ' I thought. 'Here is a beautiful young girl--you are adead man; make them understand that. Tell them that a dead man maysay anything--and Mrs. Grundy will not be angry--ha-ha! You are notlaughing?" He looked anxiously around. "But you know I get so many queerideas, lying there in bed. I have grown convinced that nature is full ofmockery--you called me an atheist just now, but you know this nature. . . Why are you laughing again? You are very cruel!" he added suddenly, regarding them all with mournful reproach. "I have not corrupted Colia, "he concluded in a different and very serious tone, as if rememberingsomething again. 

"Nobody here is laughing at you. Calm yourself, " said LizabethaProkofievna, much moved. "You shall see a new doctor tomorrow; theother was mistaken; but sit down, do not stand like that! You aredelirious--" Oh, what shall we do with him she cried in anguish, as shemade him sit down again in the arm-chair. 

A tear glistened on her cheek. At the sight of it Hippolyte seemedamazed. He lifted his hand timidly and, touched the tear with hisfinger, smiling like a child. 

"I. . . You, " he began joyfully. "You cannot tell how I. . . He always spokeso enthusiastically of you, Colia here; I liked his enthusiasm. I wasnot corrupting him! But I must leave him, too--I wanted to leavethem all--there was not one of them--not one! I wanted to be a man ofaction--I had a right to be. Oh! what a lot of things I wanted! Now Iwant nothing; I renounce all my wants; I swore to myself that I wouldwant nothing; let them seek the truth without me! Yes, nature is fullof mockery! Why"--he continued with sudden warmth--"does she createthe choicest beings only to mock at them? The only human being who isrecognized as perfect, when nature showed him to mankind, was given themission to say things which have caused the shedding of so much bloodthat it would have drowned mankind if it had all been shed at once! Oh!it is better for me to die! I should tell some dreadful lie too; naturewould so contrive it! I have corrupted nobody. I wanted to live for thehappiness of all men, to find and spread the truth. I used to look outof my window at the wall of Meyer's house, and say to myself that if Icould speak for a quarter of an hour I would convince the whole world, and now for once in my life I have come into contact with. . . You--ifnot with the others! And what is the result? Nothing! The sole resultis that you despise me! Therefore I must be a fool, I am useless, it istime I disappeared! And I shall leave not even a memory! Not a sound, not a trace, not a single deed! I have not spread a single truth!. . . Donot laugh at the fool! Forget him! Forget him forever! I beseech you, do not be so cruel as to remember! Do you know that if I were notconsumptive, I would kill myself?"

Though he seemed to wish to say much more, he became silent. He fellback into his chair, and, covering his face with his hands, began to soblike a little child. 

"Oh! what on earth are we to do with him?" cried Lizabetha Prokofievna. She hastened to him and pressed his head against her bosom, while hesobbed convulsively. 

"Come, come, come! There, you must not cry, that will do. You are a goodchild! God will forgive you, because you knew no better. Come now, be aman! You know presently you will be ashamed. "

Hippolyte raised his head with an effort, saying:

"I have little brothers and sisters, over there, poor avid innocent. Shewill corrupt them! You are a saint! You are a child yourself--save them!Snatch them from that. . . She is. . . It is shameful! Oh! help them! Godwill repay you a hundredfold. For the love of God, for the love ofChrist!"

"Speak, Ivan Fedorovitch! What are we to do?" cried LizabethaProkofievna, irritably. "Please break your majestic silence! I tell you, if you cannot come to some decision, I will stay here all night myself. You have tyrannized over me enough, you autocrat!"

She spoke angrily, and in great excitement, and expected an immediatereply. But in such a case, no matter how many are present, all preferto keep silence: no one will take the initiative, but all reserve theircomments till afterwards. There were some present--Varvara Ardalionovna, for instance--who would have willingly sat there till morning withoutsaying a word. Varvara had sat apart all the evening without opening herlips, but she listened to everything with the closest attention; perhapsshe had her reasons for so doing. 

"My dear, " said the general, "it seems to me that a sick-nurse would beof more use here than an excitable person like you. Perhaps it would beas well to get some sober, reliable man for the night. In any case wemust consult the prince, and leave the patient to rest at once. Tomorrowwe can see what can be done for him. "

"It is nearly midnight; we are going. Will he come with us, or is he tostay here?" Doktorenko asked crossly of the prince. 

"You can stay with him if you like, " said Muishkin. 

"There is plenty of room here. "

Suddenly, to the astonishment of all, Keller went quickly up to thegeneral. 

"Excellency, " he said, impulsively, "if you want a reliable man for thenight, I am ready to sacrifice myself for my friend--such a soul as hehas! I have long thought him a great man, excellency! My article showedmy lack of education, but when he criticizes he scatters pearls!"

Ivan Fedorovitch turned from the boxer with a gesture of despair. 

"I shall be delighted if he will stay; it would certainly be difficultfor him to get back to Petersburg, " said the prince, in answer to theeager questions of Lizabetha Prokofievna. 

"But you are half asleep, are you not? If you don't want him, I willtake him back to my house! Why, good gracious! He can hardly stand uphimself! What is it? Are you ill?"

Not finding the prince on his death-bed, Lizabetha Prokofievna had beenmisled by his appearance to think him much better than he was. But hisrecent illness, the painful memories attached to it, the fatigue of thisevening, the incident with "Pavlicheff's son, " and now this scene withHippolyte, had all so worked on his oversensitive nature that he was nowalmost in a fever. Moreover, anew trouble, almost a fear, showed itselfin his eyes; he watched Hippolyte anxiously as if expecting somethingfurther. 

Suddenly Hippolyte arose. His face, shockingly pale, was that of a manoverwhelmed with shame and despair. This was shown chiefly in the lookof fear and hatred which he cast upon the assembled company, and in thewild smile upon his trembling lips. Then he cast down his eyes, and withthe same smile, staggered towards Burdovsky and Doktorenko, who stood atthe entrance to the verandah. He had decided to go with them. 

"There! that is what I feared!" cried the prince. "It was inevitable!"

Hippolyte turned upon him, a prey to maniacal rage, which set all themuscles of his face quivering. 

"Ah! that is what you feared! It was inevitable, you say! Well, let metell you that if I hate anyone here--I hate you all, " he cried, in ahoarse, strained voice--"but you, you, with your jesuitical soul, yoursoul of sickly sweetness, idiot, beneficent millionaire--I hate youworse than anything or anyone on earth! I saw through you and hated youlong ago; from the day I first heard of you. I hated you with my wholeheart. You have contrived all this! You have driven me into this state!You have made a dying man disgrace himself. You, you, you are the causeof my abject cowardice! I would kill you if I remained alive! I do notwant your benefits; I will accept none from anyone; do you hear? Notfrom any one! I want nothing! I was delirious, do not dare to triumph! Icurse every one of you, once for all!"

Breath failed him here, and he was obliged to stop. 

"He is ashamed of his tears!" whispered Lebedeff to LizabethaProkofievna. "It was inevitable. Ah! what a wonderful man the prince is!He read his very soul. "

But Mrs. Epanchin would not deign to look at Lebedeff. Drawn uphaughtily, with her head held high, she gazed at the "riff-raff, "with scornful curiosity. When Hippolyte had finished, Ivan Fedorovitchshrugged his shoulders, and his wife looked him angrily up and down, asif to demand the meaning of his movement. Then she turned to the prince. 

"Thanks, prince, many thanks, eccentric friend of the family, for thepleasant evening you have provided for us. I am sure you are quitepleased that you have managed to mix us up with your extraordinaryaffairs. It is quite enough, dear family friend; thank you for giving usan opportunity of getting to know you so well. "

She arranged her cloak with hands that trembled with anger as she waitedfor the "riff-raff" to go. The cab which Lebedeff's son had gone tofetch a quarter of an hour ago, by Doktorenko's order, arrived at thatmoment. The general thought fit to put in a word after his wife. 

"Really, prince, I hardly expected after--after all our friendlyintercourse--and you see, Lizabetha Prokofievna--"

"Papa, how can you?" cried Adelaida, walking quickly up to the princeand holding out her hand. 

He smiled absently at her; then suddenly he felt a burning sensation inhis ear as an angry voice whispered:

"If you do not turn those dreadful people out of the house this veryinstant, I shall hate you all my life--all my life!" It was Aglaya. Sheseemed almost in a frenzy, but she turned away before the prince couldlook at her. However, there was no one left to turn out of the house, for they had managed meanwhile to get Hippolyte into the cab, and it haddriven off. 

"Well, how much longer is this going to last, Ivan Fedorovitch? What doyou think? Shall I soon be delivered from these odious youths?"

"My dear, I am quite ready; naturally. . . The prince. "

Ivan Fedorovitch held out his hand to Muishkin, but ran after his wife, who was leaving with every sign of violent indignation, before he hadtime to shake it. Adelaida, her fiance, and Alexandra, said good-bye totheir host with sincere friendliness. Evgenie Pavlovitch did the same, and he alone seemed in good spirits. 

"What I expected has happened! But I am sorry, you poor fellow, thatyou should have had to suffer for it, " he murmured, with a most charmingsmile. 

Aglaya left without saying good-bye. But the evening was not to endwithout a last adventure. An unexpected meeting was yet in store forLizabetha Prokofievna. 

She had scarcely descended the terrace steps leading to the high roadthat skirts the park at Pavlofsk, when suddenly there dashed by a smartopen carriage, drawn by a pair of beautiful white horses. Having passedsome ten yards beyond the house, the carriage suddenly drew up, and oneof the two ladies seated in it turned sharp round as though she had justcaught sight of some acquaintance whom she particularly wished to see. 

"Evgenie Pavlovitch! Is that you?" cried a clear, sweet voice, whichcaused the prince, and perhaps someone else, to tremble. "Well, I AMglad I've found you at last! I've sent to town for you twice todaymyself! My messengers have been searching for you everywhere!"

Evgenie Pavlovitch stood on the steps like one struck by lightning. Mrs. Epanchin stood still too, but not with the petrified expression ofEvgenie. She gazed haughtily at the audacious person who had addressedher companion, and then turned a look of astonishment upon Evgeniehimself. 

"There's news!" continued the clear voice. "You need not be anxiousabout Kupferof's IOU's--Rogojin has bought them up. I persuaded himto!--I dare say we shall settle Biscup too, so it's all right, yousee! Au revoir, tomorrow! And don't worry!" The carriage moved on, anddisappeared. 

"The woman's mad!" cried Evgenie, at last, crimson with anger, andlooking confusedly around. "I don't know what she's talking about! WhatIOU's? Who is she?" Mrs. Epanchin continued to watch his face for acouple of seconds; then she marched briskly and haughtily away towardsher own house, the rest following her. 

A minute afterwards, Evgenie Pavlovitch reappeared on the terrace, ingreat agitation. 

"Prince, " he said, "tell me the truth; do you know what all this means?"

"I know nothing whatever about it!" replied the latter, who was, himself, in a state of nervous excitement. 

"No?"

"No?

"Well, nor do I!" said Evgenie Pavlovitch, laughing suddenly. "I haven'tthe slightest knowledge of any such IOU's as she mentioned, I swear Ihaven't--What's the matter, are you fainting?"

"Oh, no-no-I'm all right, I assure you!"

XI. 

THE anger of the Epanchin family was unappeased for three days. As usualthe prince reproached himself, and had expected punishment, but he wasinwardly convinced that Lizabetha Prokofievna could not be seriouslyangry with him, and that she probably was more angry with herself. Hewas painfully surprised, therefore, when three days passed with no wordfrom her. Other things also troubled and perplexed him, and one of thesegrew more important in his eyes as the days went by. He had begun toblame himself for two opposite tendencies--on the one hand to extreme, almost "senseless, " confidence in his fellows, on the other to a "vile, gloomy suspiciousness. "

By the end of the third day the incident of the eccentric lady andEvgenie Pavlovitch had attained enormous and mysterious proportions inhis mind. He sorrowfully asked himself whether he had been the cause ofthis new "monstrosity, " or was it. . . But he refrained from saying whoelse might be in fault. As for the letters N. P. B. , he looked on that asa harmless joke, a mere childish piece of mischief--so childish thathe felt it would be shameful, almost dishonourable, to attach anyimportance to it. 

The day after these scandalous events, however, the prince had thehonour of receiving a visit from Adelaida and her fiance, Prince S. Theycame, ostensibly, to inquire after his health. They had wandered out fora walk, and called in "by accident, " and talked for almost the wholeof the time they were with him about a certain most lovely tree in thepark, which Adelaida had set her heart upon for a picture. This, and alittle amiable conversation on Prince S. 's part, occupied the time, andnot a word was said about last evening's episodes. At length Adelaidaburst out laughing, apologized, and explained that they had comeincognito; from which, and from the circumstance that they said nothingabout the prince's either walking back with them or coming to see themlater on, the latter inferred that he was in Mrs. Epanchin's blackbooks. Adelaida mentioned a watercolour that she would much like to showhim, and explained that she would either send it by Colia, or bring itherself the next day--which to the prince seemed very suggestive. 

At length, however, just as the visitors were on the point of departing, Prince S. Seemed suddenly to recollect himself. "Oh yes, by-the-by, " hesaid, "do you happen to know, my dear Lef Nicolaievitch, who that ladywas who called out to Evgenie Pavlovitch last night, from the carriage?"

"It was Nastasia Philipovna, " said the prince; "didn't you know that? Icannot tell you who her companion was. "

"But what on earth did she mean? I assure you it is a real riddleto me--to me, and to others, too!" Prince S. Seemed to be under theinfluence of sincere astonishment. 

"She spoke of some bills of Evgenie Pavlovitch's, " said the prince, simply, "which Rogojin had bought up from someone; and implied thatRogojin would not press him. "

"Oh, I heard that much, my dear fellow! But the thing is so impossiblyabsurd! A man of property like Evgenie to give IOU's to a money-lender, and to be worried about them! It is ridiculous. Besides, he cannotpossibly be on such intimate terms with Nastasia Philipovna as she gaveus to understand; that's the principal part of the mystery! He has givenme his word that he knows nothing whatever about the matter, and ofcourse I believe him. Well, the question is, my dear prince, do you knowanything about it? Has any sort of suspicion of the meaning of it comeacross you?"

"No, I know nothing whatever about it. I assure you I had nothing at allto do with it. "

"Oh, prince, how strange you have become! I assure you, I hardly knowyou for your old self. How can you suppose that I ever suggested youcould have had a finger in such a business? But you are not quiteyourself today, I can see. " He embraced the prince, and kissed him. 

"What do you mean, though, " asked Muishkin, "'by such a business'? Idon't see any particular 'business' about it at all!"

"Oh, undoubtedly, this person wished somehow, and for some reason, todo Evgenie Pavlovitch a bad turn, by attributing to him--beforewitnesses--qualities which he neither has nor can have, " replied PrinceS. Drily enough. 

Muiskhin looked disturbed, but continued to gaze intently andquestioningly into Prince S. 's face. The latter, however, remainedsilent. 

"Then it was not simply a matter of bills?" Muishkin said at last, withsome impatience. "It was not as she said?"

"But I ask you, my dear sir, how can there be anything in common betweenEvgenie Pavlovitch, and--her, and again Rogojin? I tell you he is a manof immense wealth--as I know for a fact; and he has further expectationsfrom his uncle. Simply Nastasia Philipovna--"

Prince S. Paused, as though unwilling to continue talking about NastasiaPhilipovna. 

"Then at all events he knows her!" remarked the prince, after a moment'ssilence. 

"Oh, that may be. He may have known her some time ago--two or threeyears, at least. He used to know Totski. But it is impossible thatthere should be any intimacy between them. She has not even been in theplace--many people don't even know that she has returned from Moscow! Ihave only observed her carriage about for the last three days or so. "

"It's a lovely carriage, " said Adelaida. 

"Yes, it was a beautiful turn-out, certainly!"

The visitors left the house, however, on no less friendly terms thanbefore. But the visit was of the greatest importance to the prince, fromhis own point of view. Admitting that he had his suspicions, fromthe moment of the occurrence of last night, perhaps even before, thatNastasia had some mysterious end in view, yet this visit confirmed hissuspicions and justified his fears. It was all clear to him; Prince S. Was wrong, perhaps, in his view of the matter, but he was somewhere nearthe truth, and was right in so far as that he understood there to bean intrigue of some sort going on. Perhaps Prince S. Saw it all moreclearly than he had allowed his hearers to understand. At all events, nothing could be plainer than that he and Adelaida had come for theexpress purpose of obtaining explanations, and that they suspected himof being concerned in the affair. And if all this were so, then SHE musthave some terrible object in view! What was it? There was no stoppingHER, as Muishkin knew from experience, in the performance of anythingshe had set her mind on! "Oh, she is mad, mad!" thought the poor prince. 

But there were many other puzzling occurrences that day, which requiredimmediate explanation, and the prince felt very sad. A visit from VeraLebedeff distracted him a little. She brought the infant Lubotchka withher as usual, and talked cheerfully for some time. Then came her youngersister, and later the brother, who attended a school close by. Heinformed Muishkin that his father had lately found a new interpretationof the star called "wormwood, " which fell upon the water-springs, asdescribed in the Apocalypse. He had decided that it meant the network ofrailroads spread over the face of Europe at the present time. Theprince refused to believe that Lebedeff could have given such aninterpretation, and they decided to ask him about it at the earliestopportunity. Vera related how Keller had taken up his abode with them onthe previous evening. She thought he would remain for some time, as hewas greatly pleased with the society of General Ivolgin and of thewhole family. But he declared that he had only come to them in orderto complete his education! The prince always enjoyed the company ofLebedeff's children, and today it was especially welcome, for Colia didnot appear all day. Early that morning he had started for Petersburg. Lebedeff also was away on business. But Gavrila Ardalionovitch hadpromised to visit Muishkin, who eagerly awaited his coming. 

About seven in the evening, soon after dinner, he arrived. At the firstglance it struck the prince that he, at any rate, must know all thedetails of last night's affair. Indeed, it would have been impossiblefor him to remain in ignorance considering the intimate relationshipbetween him, Varvara Ardalionovna, and Ptitsin. But although he and theprince were intimate, in a sense, and although the latter had placedthe Burdovsky affair in his hands-and this was not the only mark ofconfidence he had received--it seemed curious how many matters therewere that were tacitly avoided in their conversations. Muishkin thoughtthat Gania at times appeared to desire more cordiality and frankness. It was apparent now, when he entered, that he, was convinced that themoment for breaking the ice between them had come at last. 

But all the same Gania was in haste, for his sister was waiting atLebedeff's to consult him on an urgent matter of business. If he hadanticipated impatient questions, or impulsive confidences, he wassoon undeceived. The prince was thoughtful, reserved, even a littleabsent-minded, and asked none of the questions--one in particular--thatGania had expected. So he imitated the prince's demeanour, and talkedfast and brilliantly upon all subjects but the one on which theirthoughts were engaged. Among other things Gania told his host thatNastasia Philipovna had been only four days in Pavlofsk, and thateveryone was talking about her already. She was staying with DariaAlexeyevna, in an ugly little house in Mattrossky Street, but droveabout in the smartest carriage in the place. A crowd of followershad pursued her from the first, young and old. Some escorted her onhorse-back when she took the air in her carriage. 

She was as capricious as ever in the choice of her acquaintances, andadmitted few into her narrow circle. Yet she already had a numerousfollowing and many champions on whom she could depend in time of need. One gentleman on his holiday had broken off his engagement on heraccount, and an old general had quarrelled with his only son for thesame reason. 

She was accompanied sometimes in her carriage by a girl of sixteen, a distant relative of her hostess. This young lady sang very well; infact, her music had given a kind of notoriety to their little house. Nastasia, however, was behaving with great discretion on the whole. Shedressed quietly, though with such taste as to drive all the ladiesin Pavlofsk mad with envy, of that, as well as of her beauty and hercarriage and horses. 

"As for yesterday's episode, " continued Gania, "of course it waspre-arranged. " Here he paused, as though expecting to be asked howhe knew that. But the prince did not inquire. Concerning EvgeniePavlovitch, Gania stated, without being asked, that he believed theformer had not known Nastasia Philipovna in past years, but that he hadprobably been introduced to her by somebody in the park during thesefour days. As to the question of the IOU's she had spoken of, theremight easily be something in that; for though Evgenie was undoubtedlya man of wealth, yet certain of his affairs were equally undoubtedly indisorder. Arrived at this interesting point, Gania suddenly broke off, and said no more about Nastasia's prank of the previous evening. 

At last Varvara Ardalionovna came in search of her brother, and remainedfor a few minutes. Without Muishkin's asking her, she informed him thatEvgenie Pavlovitch was spending the day in Petersburg, and perhaps wouldremain there over tomorrow; and that her husband had also gone to town, probably in connection with Evgenie Pavlovitch's affairs. 

"Lizabetha Prokofievna is in a really fiendish temper today, " sheadded, as she went out, "but the most curious thing is that Aglaya hasquarrelled with her whole family; not only with her father and mother, but with her sisters also. It is not a good sign. " She said all thisquite casually, though it was extremely important in the eyes ofthe prince, and went off with her brother. Regarding the episode of"Pavlicheff's son, " Gania had been absolutely silent, partly from a kindof false modesty, partly, perhaps, to "spare the prince's feelings. " Thelatter, however, thanked him again for the trouble he had taken in theaffair. 

Muishkin was glad enough to be left alone. He went out of the garden, crossed the road, and entered the park. He wished to reflect, and tomake up his mind as to a certain "step. " This step was one of thosethings, however, which are not thought out, as a rule, but decided foror against hastily, and without much reflection. The fact is, he felt alonging to leave all this and go away--go anywhere, if only it werefar enough, and at once, without bidding farewell to anyone. He felt apresentiment that if he remained but a few days more in this place, andamong these people, he would be fixed there irrevocably and permanently. However, in a very few minutes he decided that to run away wasimpossible; that it would be cowardly; that great problems lay beforehim, and that he had no right to leave them unsolved, or at least torefuse to give all his energy and strength to the attempt to solve them. Having come to this determination, he turned and went home, his walkhaving lasted less than a quarter of an hour. At that moment he wasthoroughly unhappy. 

Lebedeff had not returned, so towards evening Keller managed topenetrate into the prince's apartments. He was not drunk, but in aconfidential and talkative mood. He announced that he had come to tellthe story of his life to Muishkin, and had only remained at Pavlofsk forthat purpose. There was no means of turning him out; nothing short of anearthquake would have removed him. 

In the manner of one with long hours before him, he began his history;but after a few incoherent words he jumped to the conclusion, whichwas that "having ceased to believe in God Almighty, he had lost everyvestige of morality, and had gone so far as to commit a theft. " "Couldyou imagine such a thing?" said he. 

"Listen to me, Keller, " returned the prince. "If I were in your place, Ishould not acknowledge that unless it were absolutely necessary for somereason. But perhaps you are making yourself out to be worse than youare, purposely?"

"I should tell it to no one but yourself, prince, and I only name it nowas a help to my soul's evolution. When I die, that secret will die withme! But, excellency, if you knew, if you only had the least idea, howdifficult it is to get money nowadays! Where to find it is the question. Ask for a loan, the answer is always the same: 'Give us gold, jewels, ordiamonds, and it will be quite easy. ' Exactly what one has not got! Canyou picture that to yourself? I got angry at last, and said, 'Isuppose you would accept emeralds?' 'Certainly, we accept emeralds withpleasure. Yes!' 'Well, that's all right, ' said I. 'Go to the devil, youden of thieves!' And with that I seized my hat, and walked out. "

"Had you any emeralds?" asked the prince. 

"What? I have emeralds? Oh, prince! with what simplicity, with whatalmost pastoral simplicity, you look upon life!"

Could not something be made of this man under good influences? asked theprince of himself, for he began to feel a kind of pity for his visitor. He thought little of the value of his own personal influence, not froma sense of humility, but from his peculiar way of looking at thingsin general. Imperceptibly the conversation grew more animated and moreinteresting, so that neither of the two felt anxious to bring it to aclose. Keller confessed, with apparent sincerity, to having been guiltyof many acts of such a nature that it astonished the prince that hecould mention them, even to him. At every fresh avowal he professed thedeepest repentance, and described himself as being "bathed in tears";but this did not prevent him from putting on a boastful air at times, and some of his stories were so absurdly comical that both he and theprince laughed like madmen. 

"One point in your favour is that you seem to have a child-like mind, and extreme truthfulness, " said the prince at last. "Do you know thatthat atones for much?"

"I am assuredly noble-minded, and chivalrous to a degree!" said Keller, much softened. "But, do you know, this nobility of mind exists in adream, if one may put it so? It never appears in practice or deed. Now, why is that? I can never understand. "

"Do not despair. I think we may say without fear of deceiving ourselves, that you have now given a fairly exact account of your life. I, atleast, think it would be impossible to add much to what you have justtold me. "

"Impossible?" cried Keller, almost pityingly. "Oh prince, how little youreally seem to understand human nature!"

"Is there really much more to be added?" asked the prince, with mildsurprise. "Well, what is it you really want of me? Speak out; tell mewhy you came to make your confession to me?"

"What did I want? Well, to begin with, it is good to meet a man likeyou. It is a pleasure to talk over my faults with you. I know you forone of the best of men. . . And then. . . Then. . . "

He hesitated, and appeared so much embarrassed that the prince helpedhim out. 

"Then you wanted me to lend you money?"

The words were spoken in a grave tone, and even somewhat shyly. 

Keller started, gave an astonished look at the speaker, and thumped thetable with his fist. 

"Well, prince, that's enough to knock me down! It astounds me! Here youare, as simple and innocent as a knight of the golden age, and yet. . . Yet. . . You read a man's soul like a psychologist! Now, do explain it tome, prince, because I. . . I really do not understand!. . . Of course, myaim was to borrow money all along, and you. . . You asked the questionas if there was nothing blameable in it--as if you thought it quitenatural. "

"Yes. . . From you it is quite natural. "

"And you are not offended?"

"Why should I be offended?"

"Well, just listen, prince. I remained here last evening, partly becauseI have a great admiration for the French archbishop Bourdaloue. Ienjoyed a discussion over him till three o'clock in the morning, withLebedeff; and then. . . Then--I swear by all I hold sacred that I amtelling you the truth--then I wished to develop my soul in this frankand heartfelt confession to you. This was my thought as I was sobbingmyself to sleep at dawn. Just as I was losing consciousness, tears inmy soul, tears on my face (I remember how I lay there sobbing), an ideafrom hell struck me. 'Why not, after confessing, borrow money from him?'You see, this confession was a kind of masterstroke; I intended to useit as a means to your good grace and favour--and then--then I meant towalk off with a hundred and fifty roubles. Now, do you not call thatbase?"

"It is hardly an exact statement of the case, " said the prince in reply. "You have confused your motives and ideas, as I need scarcely say toooften happens to myself. I can assure you, Keller, I reproach myselfbitterly for it sometimes. When you were talking just now I seemed to belistening to something about myself. At times I have imagined that allmen were the same, " he continued earnestly, for he appeared to be muchinterested in the conversation, "and that consoled me in a certaindegree, for a DOUBLE motive is a thing most difficult to fight against. I have tried, and I know. God knows whence they arise, these ideas thatyou speak of as base. I fear these double motives more than ever justnow, but I am not your judge, and in my opinion it is going too far togive the name of baseness to it--what do you think? You were goingto employ your tears as a ruse in order to borrow money, but you alsosay--in fact, you have sworn to the fact--that independently of thisyour confession was made with an honourable motive. As for the money, you want it for drink, do you not? After your confession, that isweakness, of course; but, after all, how can anyone give up a bad habitat a moment's notice? It is impossible. What can we do? It is best, Ithink, to leave the matter to your own conscience. How does it seem toyou?" As he concluded the prince looked curiously at Keller; evidentlythis problem of double motives had often been considered by him before. 

"Well, how anybody can call you an idiot after that, is more than I canunderstand!" cried the boxer. 

The prince reddened slightly. 

"Bourdaloue, the archbishop, would not have spared a man like me, "Keller continued, "but you, you have judged me with humanity. To showhow grateful I am, and as a punishment, I will not accept a hundred andfifty roubles. Give me twenty-five--that will be enough; it is all Ireally need, for a fortnight at least. I will not ask you for more fora fortnight. I should like to have given Agatha a present, but she doesnot really deserve it. Oh, my dear prince, God bless you!"

At this moment Lebedeff appeared, having just arrived from Petersburg. He frowned when he saw the twenty-five rouble note in Keller's hand, butthe latter, having got the money, went away at once. Lebedeff began toabuse him. 

"You are unjust; I found him sincerely repentant, " observed the prince, after listening for a time. 

"What is the good of repentance like that? It is the same exactly asmine yesterday, when I said, 'I am base, I am base, '--words, and nothingmore!"

"Then they were only words on your part? I thought, on the contrary. . . "

"Well, I don't mind telling you the truth--you only! Because you seethrough a man somehow. Words and actions, truth and falsehood, are alljumbled up together in me, and yet I am perfectly sincere. I feel thedeepest repentance, believe it or not, as you choose; but words and liescome out in the infernal craving to get the better of other people. It is always there--the notion of cheating people, and of using myrepentant tears to my own advantage! I assure you this is the truth, prince! I would not tell any other man for the world! He would laugh andjeer at me--but you, you judge a man humanely. "

"Why, Keller said the same thing to me nearly word for word a fewminutes ago!" cried Muishkin. "And you both seem inclined to boast aboutit! You astonish me, but I think he is more sincere than you, for youmake a regular trade of it. Oh, don't put on that pathetic expression, and don't put your hand on your heart! Have you anything to say to me?You have not come for nothing. . . "

Lebedeff grinned and wriggled. 

"I have been waiting all day for you, because I want to ask you aquestion; and, for once in your life, please tell me the truth at once. Had you anything to do with that affair of the carriage yesterday?"

Lebedeff began to grin again, rubbed his hands, sneezed, but spoke not aword in reply. 

"I see you had something to do with it. "

"Indirectly, quite indirectly! I am speaking the truth--I am indeed!I merely told a certain person that I had people in my house, and thatsuch and such personages might be found among them. "

"I am aware that you sent your son to that house--he told me so himselfjust now, but what is this intrigue?" said the prince, impatiently. 

"It is not my intrigue!" cried Lebedeff, waving his hand. 

"It was engineered by other people, and is, properly speaking, rather afantasy than an intrigue!"

"But what is it all about? Tell me, for Heaven's sake! Cannot youunderstand how nearly it touches me? Why are they blackening EvgeniePavlovitch's reputation?"

Lebedeff grimaced and wriggled again. 

"Prince!" said he. "Excellency! You won't let me tell you the wholetruth; I have tried to explain; more than once I have begun, but youhave not allowed me to go on. . . "

The prince gave no answer, and sat deep in thought. Evidently he wasstruggling to decide. 

"Very well! Tell me the truth, " he said, dejectedly. 

"Aglaya Ivanovna. . . " began Lebedeff, promptly. 

"Be silent! At once!" interrupted the prince, red with indignation, andperhaps with shame, too. "It is impossible and absurd! All that has beeninvented by you, or fools like you! Let me never hear you say a wordagain on that subject!"

Late in the evening Colia came in with a whole budget of Petersburg andPavlofsk news. He did not dwell much on the Petersburg part of it, whichconsisted chiefly of intelligence about his friend Hippolyte, but passedquickly to the Pavlofsk tidings. He had gone straight to the Epanchins'from the station. 

"There's the deuce and all going on there!" he said. "First of all aboutthe row last night, and I think there must be something new as well, though I didn't like to ask. Not a word about YOU, prince, the wholetime! The most interesting fact was that Aglaya had been quarrellingwith her people about Gania. Colia did not know any details, except thatit had been a terrible quarrel! Also Evgenie Pavlovitch had called, andmet with an excellent reception all round. And another curious thing:Mrs. Epanchin was so angry that she called Varia to her--Varia wastalking to the girls--and turned her out of the house 'once for all' shesaid. I heard it from Varia herself--Mrs. Epanchin was quite polite, but firm; and when Varia said good-bye to the girls, she told themnothing about it, and they didn't know they were saying goodbye for thelast time. I'm sorry for Varia, and for Gania too; he isn't half a badfellow, in spite of his faults, and I shall never forgive myself for notliking him before! I don't know whether I ought to continue to go to theEpanchins' now, " concluded Colia--"I like to be quite independent ofothers, and of other people's quarrels if I can; but I must think overit. "

"I don't think you need break your heart over Gania, " said the prince;"for if what you say is true, he must be considered dangerous in theEpanchin household, and if so, certain hopes of his must have beenencouraged. "

"What? What hopes?" cried Colia; "you surely don't mean Aglaya?--oh, no!--"

"You're a dreadful sceptic, prince, " he continued, after a moment'ssilence. "I have observed of late that you have grown sceptical abouteverything. You don't seem to believe in people as you did, and arealways attributing motives and so on--am I using the word 'sceptic' inits proper sense?"

"I believe so; but I'm not sure. "

"Well, I'll change it, right or wrong; I'll say that you are notsceptical, but JEALOUS. There! you are deadly jealous of Gania, overa certain proud damsel! Come!" Colia jumped up, with these words, andburst out laughing. He laughed as he had perhaps never laughed before, and still more when he saw the prince flushing up to his temples. He wasdelighted that the prince should be jealous about Aglaya. However, hestopped immediately on seeing that the other was really hurt, and theconversation continued, very earnestly, for an hour or more. 

Next day the prince had to go to town, on business. Returning in theafternoon, he happened upon General Epanchin at the station. The latterseized his hand, glancing around nervously, as if he were afraidof being caught in wrong-doing, and dragged him into a first-classcompartment. He was burning to speak about something of importance. 

"In the first place, my dear prince, don't be angry with me. I wouldhave come to see you yesterday, but I didn't know how LizabethaProkofievna would take it. My dear fellow, my house is simply a helljust now, a sort of sphinx has taken up its abode there. We live in anatmosphere of riddles; I can't make head or tail of anything. As foryou, I feel sure you are the least to blame of any of us, though youcertainly have been the cause of a good deal of trouble. You see, it'sall very pleasant to be a philanthropist; but it can be carried too far. Of course I admire kind-heartedness, and I esteem my wife, but--"

The general wandered on in this disconnected way for a long time; itwas clear that he was much disturbed by some circumstance which he couldmake nothing of. 

"It is plain to me, that YOU are not in it at all, " he continued, atlast, a little less vaguely, "but perhaps you had better not come toour house for a little while. I ask you in the friendliest manner, mind; just till the wind changes again. As for Evgenie Pavlovitch, " hecontinued with some excitement, "the whole thing is a calumny, a dirtycalumny. It is simply a plot, an intrigue, to upset our plans and tostir up a quarrel. You see, prince, I'll tell you privately, Evgenie andourselves have not said a word yet, we have no formal understanding, weare in no way bound on either side, but the word may be said very soon, don't you see, VERY soon, and all this is most injurious, and is meantto be so. Why? I'm sure I can't tell you. She's an extraordinary woman, you see, an eccentric woman; I tell you I am so frightened of that womanthat I can't sleep. What a carriage that was, and where did it comefrom, eh? I declare, I was base enough to suspect Evgenie at first; butit seems certain that that cannot be the case, and if so, why is sheinterfering here? That's the riddle, what does she want? Is it to keepEvgenie to herself? But, my dear fellow, I swear to you, I swear hedoesn't even KNOW her, and as for those bills, why, the whole thing isan invention! And the familiarity of the woman! It's quite clear we musttreat the impudent creature's attempt with disdain, and redouble ourcourtesy towards Evgenie. I told my wife so. 

"Now I'll tell you my secret conviction. I'm certain that she's doingthis to revenge herself on me, on account of the past, though I assureyou that all the time I was blameless. I blush at the very idea. Andnow she turns up again like this, when I thought she had finallydisappeared! Where's Rogojin all this time? I thought she was Mrs. Rogojin, long ago. "

The old man was in a state of great mental perturbation. The whole ofthe journey, which occupied nearly an hour, he continued in this strain, putting questions and answering them himself, shrugging his shoulders, pressing the prince's hand, and assuring the latter that, at allevents, he had no suspicion whatever of HIM. This last assurance wassatisfactory, at all events. The general finished by informing him thatEvgenie's uncle was head of one of the civil service departments, andrich, very rich, and a gourmand. "And, well, Heaven preserve him, ofcourse--but Evgenie gets his money, don't you see? But, for all this, I'm uncomfortable, I don't know why. There's something in the air, Ifeel there's something nasty in the air, like a bat, and I'm by no meanscomfortable. "

And it was not until the third day that the formal reconciliationbetween the prince and the Epanchins took place, as said before. 

XII. 

IT was seven in the evening, and the prince was just preparing to goout for a walk in the park, when suddenly Mrs. Epanchin appeared on theterrace. 

"In the first place, don't dare to suppose, " she began, "that I am goingto apologize. Nonsense! You were entirely to blame. "

The prince remained silent. 

"Were you to blame, or not?"

"No, certainly not, no more than yourself, though at first I thought Iwas. "

"Oh, very well, let's sit down, at all events, for I don't intend tostand up all day. And remember, if you say, one word about 'mischievousurchins, ' I shall go away and break with you altogether. Now then, didyou, or did you not, send a letter to Aglaya, a couple of months or soago, about Easter-tide?"

"Yes!"

"What for? What was your object? Show me the letter. " Mrs. Epanchin'seyes flashed; she was almost trembling with impatience. 

"I have not got the letter, " said the prince, timidly, extremelysurprised at the turn the conversation had taken. "If anyone has it, ifit still exists, Aglaya Ivanovna must have it. "

"No finessing, please. What did you write about?"

"I am not finessing, and I am not in the least afraid of telling you;but I don't see the slightest reason why I should not have written. "

"Be quiet, you can talk afterwards! What was the letter about? Why areyou blushing?"

The prince was silent. At last he spoke. 

"I don't understand your thoughts, Lizabetha Prokofievna; but I can seethat the fact of my having written is for some reason repugnant to you. You must admit that I have a perfect right to refuse to answer yourquestions; but, in order to show you that I am neither ashamed ofthe letter, nor sorry that I wrote it, and that I am not in the leastinclined to blush about it" (here the prince's blushes redoubled), "Iwill repeat the substance of my letter, for I think I know it almost byheart. "

So saying, the prince repeated the letter almost word for word, as hehad written it. 

"My goodness, what utter twaddle, and what may all this nonsense havesignified, pray? If it had any meaning at all!" said Mrs. Epanchin, cuttingly, after having listened with great attention. 

"I really don't absolutely know myself; I know my feeling was verysincere. I had moments at that time full of life and hope. "

"What sort of hope?"

"It is difficult to explain, but certainly not the hopes you have inyour mind. Hopes--well, in a word, hopes for the future, and a feelingof joy that THERE, at all events, I was not entirely a stranger and aforeigner. I felt an ecstasy in being in my native land once more; andone sunny morning I took up a pen and wrote her that letter, but why toHER, I don't quite know. Sometimes one longs to have a friend near, andI evidently felt the need of one then, " added the prince, and paused. 

"Are you in love with her?"

"N-no! I wrote to her as to a sister; I signed myself her brother. "

"Oh yes, of course, on purpose! I quite understand. "

"It is very painful to me to answer these questions, LizabethaProkofievna. "

"I dare say it is; but that's no affair of mine. Now then, assure metruly as before Heaven, are you lying to me or not?"

"No, I am not lying. "

"Are you telling the truth when you say you are not in love?"

"I believe it is the absolute truth. "

"'I believe, ' indeed! Did that mischievous urchin give it to her?"

"I asked Nicolai Ardalionovitch. . . "

"The urchin! the urchin!" interrupted Lizabetha Prokofievna in an angryvoice. "I do not want to know if it were Nicolai Ardalionovitch! Theurchin!"

"Nicolai Ardalionovitch. . . "

"The urchin, I tell you!"

"No, it was not the urchin: it was Nicolai Ardalionovitch, " said theprince very firmly, but without raising his voice. 

"Well, all right! All right, my dear! I shall put that down to youraccount. "

She was silent a moment to get breath, and to recover her composure. 

"Well!--and what's the meaning of the 'poor knight, ' eh?"

"I don't know in the least; I wasn't present when the joke was made. ItIS a joke. I suppose, and that's all. "

"Well, that's a comfort, at all events. You don't suppose she could takeany interest in you, do you? Why, she called you an 'idiot' herself. "

"I think you might have spared me that, " murmured the princereproachfully, almost in a whisper. 

"Don't be angry; she is a wilful, mad, spoilt girl. If she likes aperson she will pitch into him, and chaff him. I used to be just suchanother. But for all that you needn't flatter yourself, my boy; she isnot for you. I don't believe it, and it is not to be. I tell you so atonce, so that you may take proper precautions. Now, I want to hear youswear that you are not married to that woman?"

"Lizabetha Prokofievna, what are you thinking of?" cried the prince, almost leaping to his feet in amazement. 

"Why? You very nearly were, anyhow. "

"Yes--I nearly was, " whispered the prince, hanging his head. 

"Well then, have you come here for HER? Are you in love with HER? WithTHAT creature?"

"I did not come to marry at all, " replied the prince. 

"Is there anything you hold sacred?"

"There is. "

"Then swear by it that you did not come here to marry HER!"

"I'll swear it by whatever you please. "

"I believe you. You may kiss me; I breathe freely at last. But you mustknow, my dear friend, Aglaya does not love you, and she shall never beyour wife while I am out of my grave. So be warned in time. Do you hearme?"

"Yes, I hear. "

The prince flushed up so much that he could not look her in the face. 

"I have waited for you with the greatest impatience (not that you wereworth it). Every night I have drenched my pillow with tears, not foryou, my friend, not for you, don't flatter yourself! I have my owngrief, always the same, always the same. But I'll tell you why I havebeen awaiting you so impatiently, because I believe that Providenceitself sent you to be a friend and a brother to me. I haven't a friendin the world except Princess Bielokonski, and she is growing as stupidas a sheep from old age. Now then, tell me, yes or no? Do you know whyshe called out from her carriage the other night?"

"I give you my word of honour that I had nothing to do with the matterand know nothing about it. "

"Very well, I believe you. I have my own ideas about it. Up to yesterdaymorning I thought it was really Evgenie Pavlovitch who was to blame; nowI cannot help agreeing with the others. But why he was made such a foolof I cannot understand. However, he is not going to marry Aglaya, I cantell you that. He may be a very excellent fellow, but--so it shall be. I was not at all sure of accepting him before, but now I have quite madeup my mind that I won't have him. 'Put me in my coffin first and theninto my grave, and then you may marry my daughter to whomsoever youplease, ' so I said to the general this very morning. You see how I trustyou, my boy. "

"Yes, I see and understand. "

Mrs. Epanchin gazed keenly into the prince's eyes. She was anxious tosee what impression the news as to Evgenie Pavlovitch had made upon him. 

"Do you know anything about Gavrila Ardalionovitch?" she asked at last. 

"Oh yes, I know a good deal. "

"Did you know he had communications with Aglaya?"

"No, I didn't, " said the prince, trembling a little, and in greatagitation. "You say Gavrila Ardalionovitch has private communicationswith Aglaya?--Impossible!"

"Only quite lately. His sister has been working like a rat to clear theway for him all the winter. "

"I don't believe it!" said the prince abruptly, after a short pause. "Had it been so I should have known long ago. "

"Oh, of course, yes; he would have come and wept out his secret on yourbosom. Oh, you simpleton--you simpleton! Anyone can deceive you and takeyou in like a--like a, --aren't you ashamed to trust him? Can't you seethat he humbugs you just as much as ever he pleases?"

"I know very well that he does deceive me occasionally, and he knowsthat I know it, but--" The prince did not finish his sentence. 

"And that's why you trust him, eh? So I should have supposed. Good Lord, was there ever such a man as you? Tfu! and are you aware, sir, that thisGania, or his sister Varia, have brought her into correspondence withNastasia Philipovna?"

"Brought whom?" cried Muishkin. 

"Aglaya. "

"I don't believe it! It's impossible! What object could they have?" Hejumped up from his chair in his excitement. 

"Nor do I believe it, in spite of the proofs. The girl is self-willedand fantastic, and insane! She's wicked, wicked! I'll repeat it fora thousand years that she's wicked; they ALL are, just now, all mydaughters, even that 'wet hen' Alexandra. And yet I don't believe it. Because I don't choose to believe it, perhaps; but I don't. Why haven'tyou been?" she turned on the prince suddenly. "Why didn't you come nearus all these three days, eh?"

The prince began to give his reasons, but she interrupted him again. 

"Everybody takes you in and deceives you; you went to town yesterday. Idare swear you went down on your knees to that rogue, and begged him toaccept your ten thousand roubles!"

"I never thought of doing any such thing. I have not seen him, and he isnot a rogue, in my opinion. I have had a letter from him. "

"Show it me!"

The prince took a paper from his pocket-book, and handed it to LizabethaProkofievna. It ran as follows:

"SIR, "In the eyes of the world I am sure that I have no cause for pride orself-esteem. I am much too insignificant for that. But what may be so toother men's eyes is not so to yours. I am convinced that you are betterthan other people. Doktorenko disagrees with me, but I am content todiffer from him on this point. I will never accept one single copeckfrom you, but you have helped my mother, and I am bound to be gratefulto you for that, however weak it may seem. At any rate, I have changedmy opinion about you, and I think right to inform you of the fact; but Ialso suppose that there can be no further inter course between us. 

"ANTIP BURDOVSKY. 

"P. S. --The two hundred roubles I owe you shall certainly be repaid intime. "

"How extremely stupid!" cried Mrs. Epanchin, giving back the letterabruptly. "It was not worth the trouble of reading. Why are yousmiling?"

"Confess that you are pleased to have read it. "

"What! Pleased with all that nonsense! Why, cannot you see that they areall infatuated with pride and vanity?"

"He has acknowledged himself to be in the wrong. Don't you see that thegreater his vanity, the more difficult this admission must have been onhis part? Oh, what a little child you are, Lizabetha Prokofievna!"

"Are you tempting me to box your ears for you, or what?"

"Not at all. I am only proving that you are glad about the letter. Whyconceal your real feelings? You always like to do it. "

"Never come near my house again!" cried Mrs. Epanchin, pale with rage. "Don't let me see as much as a SHADOW of you about the place! Do youhear?"

"Oh yes, and in three days you'll come and invite me yourself. Aren'tyou ashamed now? These are your best feelings; you are only tormentingyourself. "

"I'll die before I invite you! I shall forget your very name! I'veforgotten it already!"

She marched towards the door. 

"But I'm forbidden your house as it is, without your added threats!"cried the prince after her. 

"What? Who forbade you?"

She turned round so suddenly that one might have supposed a needle hadbeen stuck into her. 

The prince hesitated. He perceived that he had said too much now. 

"WHO forbade you?" cried Mrs. Epanchin once more. 

"Aglaya Ivanovna told me--"

"When? Speak--quick!"

"She sent to say, yesterday morning, that I was never to dare to comenear the house again. "

Lizabetha Prokofievna stood like a stone. 

"What did she send? Whom? Was it that boy? Was it a message?-quick!"

"I had a note, " said the prince. 

"Where is it? Give it here, at once. "

The prince thought a moment. Then he pulled out of his waistcoat pocketan untidy slip of paper, on which was scrawled:

"PRINCE LEF NICOLAIEVITCH, --If you think fit, after all that has passed, to honour our house with a visit, I can assure you you will not find meamong the number of those who are in any way delighted to see you. 

"AGLAYA EPANCHIN. "

Mrs. Epanchin reflected a moment. The next minute she flew at theprince, seized his hand, and dragged him after her to the door. 

"Quick--come along!" she cried, breathless with agitation andimpatience. "Come along with me this moment!"

"But you declared I wasn't--"

"Don't be a simpleton. You behave just as though you weren't a man atall. Come on! I shall see, now, with my own eyes. I shall see all. "

"Well, let me get my hat, at least. "

"Here's your miserable hat He couldn't even choose a respectable shapefor his hat! Come on! She did that because I took your part and said youought to have come--little vixen!--else she would never have sent youthat silly note. It's a most improper note, I call it; most improper forsuch an intelligent, well-brought-up girl to write. H'm! I dare say shewas annoyed that you didn't come; but she ought to have known that onecan't write like that to an idiot like you, for you'd be sure to take itliterally. " Mrs. Epanchin was dragging the prince along with her allthe time, and never let go of his hand for an instant. "What are youlistening for?" she added, seeing that she had committed herself alittle. "She wants a clown like you--she hasn't seen one for sometime--to play with. That's why she is anxious for you to come to thehouse. And right glad I am that she'll make a thorough good fool of you. You deserve it; and she can do it--oh! she can, indeed!--as well as mostpeople. "

PART III

I. 

THE Epanchin family, or at least the more serious members of it, weresometimes grieved because they seemed so unlike the rest of the world. They were not quite certain, but had at times a strong suspicion thatthings did not happen to them as they did to other people. Others led aquiet, uneventful life, while they were subject to continual upheavals. Others kept on the rails without difficulty; they ran off at theslightest obstacle. Other houses were governed by a timid routine;theirs was somehow different. Perhaps Lizabetha Prokofievna was alonein making these fretful observations; the girls, though not wanting inintelligence, were still young; the general was intelligent, too, butnarrow, and in any difficulty he was content to say, "H'm!" and leavethe matter to his wife. Consequently, on her fell the responsibility. Itwas not that they distinguished themselves as a family by any particularoriginality, or that their excursions off the track led to any breach ofthe proprieties. Oh no. 

There was nothing premeditated, there was not even any conscious purposein it all, and yet, in spite of everything, the family, although highlyrespected, was not quite what every highly respected family ought to be. For a long time now Lizabetha Prokofievna had had it in her mind thatall the trouble was owing to her "unfortunate character, " and thisadded to her distress. She blamed her own stupid unconventional"eccentricity. " Always restless, always on the go, she constantly seemedto lose her way, and to get into trouble over the simplest and moreordinary affairs of life. 

We said at the beginning of our story, that the Epanchins were likedand esteemed by their neighbours. In spite of his humble origin, IvanFedorovitch himself was received everywhere with respect. He deservedthis, partly on account of his wealth and position, partly because, though limited, he was really a very good fellow. But a certainlimitation of mind seems to be an indispensable asset, if not to allpublic personages, at least to all serious financiers. Added to this, his manner was modest and unassuming; he knew when to be silent, yetnever allowed himself to be trampled upon. Also--and this was moreimportant than all--he had the advantage of being under exaltedpatronage. 

As to Lizabetha Prokofievna, she, as the reader knows, belonged to anaristocratic family. True, Russians think more of influential friendsthan of birth, but she had both. She was esteemed and even loved bypeople of consequence in society, whose example in receiving her wastherefore followed by others. It seems hardly necessary to remark thather family worries and anxieties had little or no foundation, or thather imagination increased them to an absurd degree; but if you have awart on your forehead or nose, you imagine that all the world is lookingat it, and that people would make fun of you because of it, even if youhad discovered America! Doubtless Lizabetha Prokofievna was considered"eccentric" in society, but she was none the less esteemed: the pity wasthat she was ceasing to believe in that esteem. When she thought ofher daughters, she said to herself sorrowfully that she was a hindrancerather than a help to their future, that her character and temper wereabsurd, ridiculous, insupportable. Naturally, she put the blame on hersurroundings, and from morning to night was quarrelling with her husbandand children, whom she really loved to the point of self-sacrifice, even, one might say, of passion. 

She was, above all distressed by the idea that her daughters might growup "eccentric, " like herself; she believed that no other society girlswere like them. "They are growing into Nihilists!" she repeated over andover again. For years she had tormented herself with this idea, and withthe question: "Why don't they get married?"

"It is to annoy their mother; that is their one aim in life; it can benothing else. The fact is it is all of a piece with these modern ideas, that wretched woman's question! Six months ago Aglaya took a fancy tocut off her magnificent hair. Why, even I, when I was young, had nothinglike it! The scissors were in her hand, and I had to go down on my kneesand implore her. . . She did it, I know, from sheer mischief, to spiteher mother, for she is a naughty, capricious girl, a real spoiled childspiteful and mischievous to a degree! And then Alexandra wanted to shaveher head, not from caprice or mischief, but, like a little fool, simplybecause Aglaya persuaded her she would sleep better without her hair, and not suffer from headache! And how many suitors have they not hadduring the last five years! Excellent offers, too! What more do theywant? Why don't they get married? For no other reason than to vex theirmother--none--none!"

But Lizabetha Prokofievna felt somewhat consoled when she could say thatone of her girls, Adelaida, was settled at last. "It will be one off ourhands!" she declared aloud, though in private she expressed herself withgreater tenderness. The engagement was both happy and suitable, and wastherefore approved in society. Prince S. Was a distinguished man, hehad money, and his future wife was devoted to him; what more couldbe desired? Lizabetha Prokofievna had felt less anxious about thisdaughter, however, although she considered her artistic tastessuspicious. But to make up for them she was, as her mother expressed it, "merry, " and had plenty of "common-sense. " It was Aglaya's future whichdisturbed her most. With regard to her eldest daughter, Alexandra, themother never quite knew whether there was cause for anxiety or not. Sometimes she felt as if there was nothing to be expected from her. Shewas twenty-five now, and must be fated to be an old maid, and "with suchbeauty, too!" The mother spent whole nights in weeping and lamenting, while all the time the cause of her grief slumbered peacefully. "What isthe matter with her? Is she a Nihilist, or simply a fool?"

But Lizabetha Prokofievna knew perfectly well how unnecessary was thelast question. She set a high value on Alexandra Ivanovna's judgment, and often consulted her in difficulties; but that she was a 'wethen' she never for a moment doubted. "She is so calm; nothing rousesher--though wet hens are not always calm! Oh! I can't understandit!" Her eldest daughter inspired Lizabetha with a kind of puzzledcompassion. She did not feel this in Aglaya's case, though the latterwas her idol. It may be said that these outbursts and epithets, such as"wet hen" (in which the maternal solicitude usually showed itself), only made Alexandra laugh. Sometimes the most trivial thing annoyed Mrs. Epanchin, and drove her into a frenzy. For instance, Alexandra Ivanovnaliked to sleep late, and was always dreaming, though her dreams had thepeculiarity of being as innocent and naive as those of a child of seven;and the very innocence of her dreams annoyed her mother. Once she dreamtof nine hens, and this was the cause of quite a serious quarrel--noone knew why. Another time she had--it was most unusual--a dream witha spark of originality in it. She dreamt of a monk in a dark room, intowhich she was too frightened to go. Adelaida and Aglaya rushed off withshrieks of laughter to relate this to their mother, but she was quiteangry, and said her daughters were all fools. 

"H'm! she is as stupid as a fool! A veritable 'wet hen'! Nothing excitesher; and yet she is not happy; some days it makes one miserable onlyto look at her! Why is she unhappy, I wonder?" At times LizabethaProkofievna put this question to her husband, and as usual she spokein the threatening tone of one who demands an immediate answer. IvanFedorovitch would frown, shrug his shoulders, and at last give hisopinion: "She needs a husband!"

"God forbid that he should share your ideas, Ivan Fedorovitch!" his wifeflashed back. "Or that he should be as gross and churlish as you!"

The general promptly made his escape, and Lizabetha Prokofievna after awhile grew calm again. That evening, of course, she would be unusuallyattentive, gentle, and respectful to her "gross and churlish" husband, her "dear, kind Ivan Fedorovitch, " for she had never left off lovinghim. She was even still "in love" with him. He knew it well, and for hispart held her in the greatest esteem. 

But the mother's great and continual anxiety was Aglaya. "She is exactlylike me--my image in everything, " said Mrs. Epanchin to herself. "Atyrant! A real little demon! A Nihilist! Eccentric, senseless andmischievous! Good Lord, how unhappy she will be!"

But as we said before, the fact of Adelaida's approaching marriage wasbalm to the mother. For a whole month she forgot her fears and worries. 

Adelaida's fate was settled; and with her name that of Aglaya's waslinked, in society gossip. People whispered that Aglaya, too, was "asgood as engaged;" and Aglaya always looked so sweet and behaved sowell (during this period), that the mother's heart was full of joy. Ofcourse, Evgenie Pavlovitch must be thoroughly studied first, beforethe final step should be taken; but, really, how lovely dear Aglaya hadbecome--she actually grew more beautiful every day! And then--Yes, andthen--this abominable prince showed his face again, and everything wenttopsy-turvy at once, and everyone seemed as mad as March hares. 

What had really happened?

If it had been any other family than the Epanchins', nothing particularwould have happened. But, thanks to Mrs. Epanchin's invariable fussinessand anxiety, there could not be the slightest hitch in the simplestmatters of everyday life, but she immediately foresaw the most dreadfuland alarming consequences, and suffered accordingly. 

What then must have been her condition, when, among all the imaginaryanxieties and calamities which so constantly beset her, she now sawlooming ahead a serious cause for annoyance--something really likely toarouse doubts and suspicions!

"How dared they, how DARED they write that hateful anonymous letterinforming me that Aglaya is in communication with Nastasia Philipovna?"she thought, as she dragged the prince along towards her own house, and again when she sat him down at the round table where the family wasalready assembled. "How dared they so much as THINK of such a thing? Ishould DIE with shame if I thought there was a particle of truth in it, or if I were to show the letter to Aglaya herself! Who dares play thesejokes upon US, the Epanchins? WHY didn't we go to the Yelagin insteadof coming down here? I TOLD you we had better go to the Yelagin thissummer, Ivan Fedorovitch. It's all your fault. I dare say it was thatVaria who sent the letter. It's all Ivan Fedorovitch. THAT woman isdoing it all for him, I know she is, to show she can make a fool of himnow just as she did when he used to give her pearls. 

"But after all is said, we are mixed up in it. Your daughters are mixedup in it, Ivan Fedorovitch; young ladies in society, young ladies at anage to be married; they were present, they heard everything there was tohear. They were mixed up with that other scene, too, with those dreadfulyouths. You must be pleased to remember they heard it all. I cannotforgive that wretched prince. I never shall forgive him! And why, if youplease, has Aglaya had an attack of nerves for these last threedays? Why has she all but quarrelled with her sisters, even withAlexandra--whom she respects so much that she always kisses her hands asthough she were her mother? What are all these riddles of hers that wehave to guess? What has Gavrila Ardalionovitch to do with it? Why didshe take upon herself to champion him this morning, and burst into tearsover it? Why is there an allusion to that cursed 'poor knight' in theanonymous letter? And why did I rush off to him just now like a lunatic, and drag him back here? I do believe I've gone mad at last. What onearth have I done now? To talk to a young man about my daughter'ssecrets--and secrets having to do with himself, too! Thank goodness, he's an idiot, and a friend of the house! Surely Aglaya hasn't fallen inlove with such a gaby! What an idea! Pfu! we ought all to be put underglass cases--myself first of all--and be shown off as curiosities, atten copecks a peep!"

"I shall never forgive you for all this, Ivan Fedorovitch--never! Lookat her now. Why doesn't she make fun of him? She said she would, and shedoesn't. Look there! She stares at him with all her eyes, and doesn'tmove; and yet she told him not to come. He looks pale enough; and thatabominable chatterbox, Evgenie Pavlovitch, monopolizes the whole of theconversation. Nobody else can get a word in. I could soon find out allabout everything if I could only change the subject. "

The prince certainly was very pale. He sat at the table and seemed to befeeling, by turns, sensations of alarm and rapture. 

Oh, how frightened he was of looking to one side--one particularcorner--whence he knew very well that a pair of dark eyes were watchinghim intently, and how happy he was to think that he was once more amongthem, and occasionally hearing that well-known voice, although she hadwritten and forbidden him to come again!

"What on earth will she say to me, I wonder?" he thought to himself. 

He had not said a word yet; he sat silent and listened to EvgeniePavlovitch's eloquence. The latter had never appeared so happy andexcited as on this evening. The prince listened to him, but for a longtime did not take in a word he said. 

Excepting Ivan Fedorovitch, who had not as yet returned from town, thewhole family was present. Prince S. Was there; and they all intended togo out to hear the band very soon. 

Colia arrived presently and joined the circle. "So he is received asusual, after all, " thought the prince. 

The Epanchins' country-house was a charming building, built after themodel of a Swiss chalet, and covered with creepers. It was surrounded onall sides by a flower garden, and the family sat, as a rule, on the openverandah as at the prince's house. 

The subject under discussion did not appear to be very popular with theassembly, and some would have been delighted to change it; but Evgeniewould not stop holding forth, and the prince's arrival seemed to spurhim on to still further oratorical efforts. 

Lizabetha Prokofievna frowned, but had not as yet grasped the subject, which seemed to have arisen out of a heated argument. Aglaya sat apart, almost in the corner, listening in stubborn silence. 

"Excuse me, " continued Evgenie Pavlovitch hotly, "I don't say a wordagainst liberalism. Liberalism is not a sin, it is a necessary part ofa great whole, which whole would collapse and fall to pieces withoutit. Liberalism has just as much right to exist as has the most moralconservatism; but I am attacking RUSSIAN liberalism; and I attack it forthe simple reason that a Russian liberal is not a Russian liberal, he isa non-Russian liberal. Show me a real Russian liberal, and I'll kiss himbefore you all, with pleasure. "

"If he cared to kiss you, that is, " said Alexandra, whose cheeks werered with irritation and excitement. 

"Look at that, now, " thought the mother to herself, "she does nothingbut sleep and eat for a year at a time, and then suddenly flies out inthe most incomprehensible way!"

The prince observed that Alexandra appeared to be angry with Evgenie, because he spoke on a serious subject in a frivolous manner, pretendingto be in earnest, but with an under-current of irony. 

"I was saying just now, before you came in, prince, that there hasbeen nothing national up to now, about our liberalism, and nothing theliberals do, or have done, is in the least degree national. They aredrawn from two classes only, the old landowning class, and clericalfamilies--"

"How, nothing that they have done is Russian?" asked Prince S. 

"It may be Russian, but it is not national. Our liberals are notRussian, nor are our conservatives, and you may be sure that the nationdoes not recognize anything that has been done by the landed gentry, orby the seminarists, or what is to be done either. "

"Come, that's good! How can you maintain such a paradox? If you areserious, that is. I cannot allow such a statement about the landedproprietors to pass unchallenged. Why, you are a landed proprietoryourself!" cried Prince S. Hotly. 

"I suppose you'll say there is nothing national about our literatureeither?" said Alexandra. 

"Well, I am not a great authority on literary questions, but Icertainly do hold that Russian literature is not Russian, except perhapsLomonosoff, Pouschkin and Gogol. "

"In the first place, that is a considerable admission, and in the secondplace, one of the above was a peasant, and the other two were bothlanded proprietors!"

"Quite so, but don't be in such a hurry! For since it has been the partof these three men, and only these three, to say something absolutelytheir own, not borrowed, so by this very fact these three men becomereally national. If any Russian shall have done or said anything reallyand absolutely original, he is to be called national from that moment, though he may not be able to talk the Russian language; still he is anational Russian. I consider that an axiom. But we were not speakingof literature; we began by discussing the socialists. Very well then, I insist that there does not exist one single Russian socialist. Theredoes not, and there has never existed such a one, because all socialistsare derived from the two classes--the landed proprietors, and theseminarists. All our eminent socialists are merely old liberals ofthe class of landed proprietors, men who were liberals in the days ofserfdom. Why do you laugh? Give me their books, give me their studies, their memoirs, and though I am not a literary critic, yet I will proveas clear as day that every chapter and every word of their writings hasbeen the work of a former landed proprietor of the old school. You'llfind that all their raptures, all their generous transports areproprietary, all their woes and their tears, proprietary; allproprietary or seminarist! You are laughing again, and you, prince, aresmiling too. Don't you agree with me?"

It was true enough that everybody was laughing, the prince among them. 

"I cannot tell you on the instant whether I agree with you or not, "said the latter, suddenly stopping his laughter, and starting like aschoolboy caught at mischief. "But, I assure you, I am listening to youwith extreme gratification. "

So saying, he almost panted with agitation, and a cold sweat stood uponhis forehead. These were his first words since he had entered the house;he tried to lift his eyes, and look around, but dared not; EvgeniePavlovitch noticed his confusion, and smiled. 

"I'll just tell you one fact, ladies and gentlemen, " continued thelatter, with apparent seriousness and even exaltation of manner, butwith a suggestion of "chaff" behind every word, as though he werelaughing in his sleeve at his own nonsense--"a fact, the discoveryof which, I believe, I may claim to have made by myself alone. At allevents, no other has ever said or written a word about it; and in thisfact is expressed the whole essence of Russian liberalism of the sortwhich I am now considering. 

"In the first place, what is liberalism, speaking generally, but anattack (whether mistaken or reasonable, is quite another question) uponthe existing order of things? Is this so? Yes. Very well. Then my 'fact'consists in this, that RUSSIAN liberalism is not an attack upon theexisting order of things, but an attack upon the very essence of thingsthemselves--indeed, on the things themselves; not an attack on theRussian order of things, but on Russia itself. My Russian liberalgoes so far as to reject Russia; that is, he hates and strikes his ownmother. Every misfortune and mishap of the mother-country fills him withmirth, and even with ecstasy. He hates the national customs, Russianhistory, and everything. If he has a justification, it is that he doesnot know what he is doing, and believes that his hatred of Russia is thegrandest and most profitable kind of liberalism. (You will often finda liberal who is applauded and esteemed by his fellows, but who is inreality the dreariest, blindest, dullest of conservatives, and is notaware of the fact. ) This hatred for Russia has been mistaken by some ofour 'Russian liberals' for sincere love of their country, and theyboast that they see better than their neighbours what real love of one'scountry should consist in. But of late they have grown, more candid andare ashamed of the expression 'love of country, ' and have annihilatedthe very spirit of the words as something injurious and petty andundignified. This is the truth, and I hold by it; but at the same timeit is a phenomenon which has not been repeated at any other time orplace; and therefore, though I hold to it as a fact, yet I recognizethat it is an accidental phenomenon, and may likely enough pass away. There can be no such thing anywhere else as a liberal who really hateshis country; and how is this fact to be explained among US? Bymy original statement that a Russian liberal is NOT a RUSSIANliberal--that's the only explanation that I can see. "

"I take all that you have said as a joke, " said Prince S. Seriously. 

"I have not seen all kinds of liberals, and cannot, therefore, setmyself up as a judge, " said Alexandra, "but I have heard all you havesaid with indignation. You have taken some accidental case and twistedit into a universal law, which is unjust. "

"Accidental case!" said Evgenie Pavlovitch. "Do you consider it anaccidental case, prince?"

"I must also admit, " said the prince, "that I have not seen much, orbeen very far into the question; but I cannot help thinking that you aremore or less right, and that Russian liberalism--that phase of it whichyou are considering, at least--really is sometimes inclined to hateRussia itself, and not only its existing order of things in general. Ofcourse this is only PARTIALLY the truth; you cannot lay down the law forall. . . "

The prince blushed and broke off, without finishing what he meant tosay. 

In spite of his shyness and agitation, he could not help being greatlyinterested in the conversation. A special characteristic of his wasthe naive candour with which he always listened to arguments whichinterested him, and with which he answered any questions put to him onthe subject at issue. In the very expression of his face this naivetewas unmistakably evident, this disbelief in the insincerity of others, and unsuspecting disregard of irony or humour in their words. 

But though Evgenie Pavlovitch had put his questions to the prince withno other purpose but to enjoy the joke of his simple-minded seriousness, yet now, at his answer, he was surprised into some seriousness himself, and looked gravely at Muishkin as though he had not expected that sortof answer at all. 

"Why, how strange!" he ejaculated. "You didn't answer me seriously, surely, did you?"

"Did not you ask me the question seriously" inquired the prince, inamazement. 

Everybody laughed. 

"Oh, trust HIM for that!" said Adelaida. "Evgenie Pavlovitch turnseverything and everybody he can lay hold of to ridicule. You should hearthe things he says sometimes, apparently in perfect seriousness. "

"In my opinion the conversation has been a painful one throughout, andwe ought never to have begun it, " said Alexandra. "We were all going fora walk--"

"Come along then, " said Evgenie; "it's a glorious evening. But, to provethat this time I was speaking absolutely seriously, and especiallyto prove this to the prince (for you, prince, have interested meexceedingly, and I swear to you that I am not quite such an ass asI like to appear sometimes, although I am rather an ass, I admit), and--well, ladies and gentlemen, will you allow me to put just one morequestion to the prince, out of pure curiosity? It shall be the last. This question came into my mind a couple of hours since (you see, prince, I do think seriously at times), and I made my own decision uponit; now I wish to hear what the prince will say to it. "

"We have just used the expression 'accidental case. ' This is asignificant phrase; we often hear it. Well, not long since everyone wastalking and reading about that terrible murder of six people on the partof a--young fellow, and of the extraordinary speech of the counsel forthe defence, who observed that in the poverty-stricken condition of thecriminal it must have come NATURALLY into his head to kill these sixpeople. I do not quote his words, but that is the sense of them, orsomething very like it. Now, in my opinion, the barrister who putforward this extraordinary plea was probably absolutely convinced thathe was stating the most liberal, the most humane, the most enlightenedview of the case that could possibly be brought forward in these days. Now, was this distortion, this capacity for a perverted way of viewingthings, a special or accidental case, or is such a general rule?"

Everyone laughed at this. 

"A special case--accidental, of course!" cried Alexandra and Adelaida. 

"Let me remind you once more, Evgenie, " said Prince S. , "that your jokeis getting a little threadbare. "

"What do you think about it, prince?" asked Evgenie, taking no noticeof the last remark, and observing Muishkin's serious eyes fixed upon hisface. "What do you think--was it a special or a usual case--the rule, oran exception? I confess I put the question especially for you. "

"No, I don't think it was a special case, " said the prince, quietly, butfirmly. 

"My dear fellow!" cried Prince S. , with some annoyance, "don't you seethat he is chaffing you? He is simply laughing at you, and wants to makegame of you. "

"I thought Evgenie Pavlovitch was talking seriously, " said the prince, blushing and dropping his eyes. 

"My dear prince, " continued Prince S. "remember what you and I weresaying two or three months ago. We spoke of the fact that in our newlyopened Law Courts one could already lay one's finger upon so manytalented and remarkable young barristers. How pleased you were withthe state of things as we found it, and how glad I was to observe yourdelight! We both said it was a matter to be proud of; but this clumsydefence that Evgenie mentions, this strange argument CAN, of course, only be an accidental case--one in a thousand!"

The prince reflected a little, but very soon he replied, with absoluteconviction in his tone, though he still spoke somewhat shyly andtimidly:

"I only wished to say that this 'distortion, ' as Evgenie Pavlovitchexpressed it, is met with very often, and is far more the general rulethan the exception, unfortunately for Russia. So much so, that if thisdistortion were not the general rule, perhaps these dreadful crimeswould be less frequent. "

"Dreadful crimes? But I can assure you that crimes just as dreadful, and probably more horrible, have occurred before our times, and at alltimes, and not only here in Russia, but everywhere else as well. And inmy opinion it is not at all likely that such murders will cease to occurfor a very long time to come. The only difference is that in formertimes there was less publicity, while now everyone talks and writesfreely about such things--which fact gives the impression that suchcrimes have only now sprung into existence. That is where your mistakelies--an extremely natural mistake, I assure you, my dear fellow!" saidPrince S. 

"I know that there were just as many, and just as terrible, crimesbefore our times. Not long since I visited a convict prison and madeacquaintance with some of the criminals. There were some even moredreadful criminals than this one we have been speaking of--men whohave murdered a dozen of their fellow-creatures, and feel no remorsewhatever. But what I especially noticed was this, that the very mosthopeless and remorseless murderer--however hardened a criminal he maybe--still KNOWS THAT HE IS A CRIMINAL; that is, he is conscious thathe has acted wickedly, though he may feel no remorse whatever. And theywere all like this. Those of whom Evgenie Pavlovitch has spoken, do notadmit that they are criminals at all; they think they had a right todo what they did, and that they were even doing a good deed, perhaps. I consider there is the greatest difference between the two cases. And recollect--it was a YOUTH, at the particular age which is mosthelplessly susceptible to the distortion of ideas!"

Prince S. Was now no longer smiling; he gazed at the prince inbewilderment. 

Alexandra, who had seemed to wish to put in her word when the princebegan, now sat silent, as though some sudden thought had caused her tochange her mind about speaking. 

Evgenie Pavlovitch gazed at him in real surprise, and this time hisexpression of face had no mockery in it whatever. 

"What are you looking so surprised about, my friend?" asked Mrs. Epanchin, suddenly. "Did you suppose he was stupider than yourself, andwas incapable of forming his own opinions, or what?"

"No! Oh no! Not at all!" said Evgenie. "But--how is it, prince, thatyou--(excuse the question, will you?)--if you are capable of observingand seeing things as you evidently do, how is it that you saw nothingdistorted or perverted in that claim upon your property, which youacknowledged a day or two since; and which was full of arguments foundedupon the most distorted views of right and wrong?"

"I'll tell you what, my friend, " cried Mrs. Epanchin, of a sudden, "hereare we all sitting here and imagining we are very clever, and perhapslaughing at the prince, some of us, and meanwhile he has received aletter this very day in which that same claimant renounces his claim, and begs the prince's pardon. There I we don't often get that sort ofletter; and yet we are not ashamed to walk with our noses in the airbefore him. "

"And Hippolyte has come down here to stay, " said Colia, suddenly. 

"What! has he arrived?" said the prince, starting up. 

"Yes, I brought him down from town just after you had left the house. "

"There now! It's just like him, " cried Lizabetha Prokofievna, boilingover once more, and entirely oblivious of the fact that she hadjust taken the prince's part. "I dare swear that you went up to townyesterday on purpose to get the little wretch to do you the great honourof coming to stay at your house. You did go up to town, you know youdid--you said so yourself! Now then, did you, or did you not, go down onyour knees and beg him to come, confess!"

"No, he didn't, for I saw it all myself, " said Colia. "On the contrary, Hippolyte kissed his hand twice and thanked him; and all the prince saidwas that he thought Hippolyte might feel better here in the country!"

"Don't, Colia, --what is the use of saying all that?" cried the prince, rising and taking his hat. 

"Where are you going to now?" cried Mrs. Epanchin. 

"Never mind about him now, prince, " said Colia. "He is all right andtaking a nap after the journey. He is very happy to be here; but I thinkperhaps it would be better if you let him alone for today, --he is verysensitive now that he is so ill--and he might be embarrassed if you showhim too much attention at first. He is decidedly better today, and sayshe has not felt so well for the last six months, and has coughed muchless, too. "

The prince observed that Aglaya came out of her corner and approachedthe table at this point. 

He did not dare look at her, but he was conscious, to the very tips ofhis fingers, that she was gazing at him, perhaps angrily; and that shehad probably flushed up with a look of fiery indignation in her blackeyes. 

"It seems to me, Mr. Colia, that you were very foolish to bring youryoung friend down--if he is the same consumptive boy who wept soprofusely, and invited us all to his own funeral, " remarked EvgeniePavlovitch. "He talked so eloquently about the blank wall outside hisbedroom window, that I'm sure he will never support life here withoutit. "

"I think so too, " said Mrs. Epanchin; "he will quarrel with you, and beoff, " and she drew her workbox towards her with an air of dignity, quiteoblivious of the fact that the family was about to start for a walk inthe park. 

"Yes, I remember he boasted about the blank wall in an extraordinaryway, " continued Evgenie, "and I feel that without that blank wallhe will never be able to die eloquently; and he does so long to dieeloquently!"

"Oh, you must forgive him the blank wall, " said the prince, quietly. "Hehas come down to see a few trees now, poor fellow. "

"Oh, I forgive him with all my heart; you may tell him so if you like, "laughed Evgenie. 

"I don't think you should take it quite like that, " said the prince, quietly, and without removing his eyes from the carpet. "I think it ismore a case of his forgiving you. "

"Forgiving me! why so? What have I done to need his forgiveness?"

"If you don't understand, then--but of course, you do understand. He wished--he wished to bless you all round and to have yourblessing--before he died--that's all. "

"My dear prince, " began Prince S. , hurriedly, exchanging glances withsome of those present, "you will not easily find heaven on earth, andyet you seem to expect to. Heaven is a difficult thing to find anywhere, prince; far more difficult than appears to that good heart of yours. Better stop this conversation, or we shall all be growing quitedisturbed in our minds, and--"

"Let's go and hear the band, then, " said Lizabetha Prokofievna, angrilyrising from her place. 

The rest of the company followed her example. 

II. 

THE prince suddenly approached Evgenie Pavlovitch. 

"Evgenie Pavlovitch, " he said, with strange excitement and seizing thelatter's hand in his own, "be assured that I esteem you as a generousand honourable man, in spite of everything. Be assured of that. "

Evgenie Pavlovitch fell back a step in astonishment. For one moment itwas all he could do to restrain himself from bursting out laughing; but, looking closer, he observed that the prince did not seem to be quitehimself; at all events, he was in a very curious state. 

"I wouldn't mind betting, prince, " he cried, "that you did not in theleast mean to say that, and very likely you meant to address someoneelse altogether. What is it? Are you feeling unwell or anything?"

"Very likely, extremely likely, and you must be a very close observer todetect the fact that perhaps I did not intend to come up to YOU at all. "

So saying he smiled strangely; but suddenly and excitedly he beganagain:

"Don't remind me of what I have done or said. Don't! I am very muchashamed of myself, I--"

"Why, what have you done? I don't understand you. "

"I see you are ashamed of me, Evgenie Pavlovitch; you are blushing forme; that's a sign of a good heart. Don't be afraid; I shall go awaydirectly. "

"What's the matter with him? Do his fits begin like that?" saidLizabetha Prokofievna, in a high state of alarm, addressing Colia. 

"No, no, Lizabetha Prokofievna, take no notice of me. I am not going tohave a fit. I will go away directly; but I know I am afflicted. I wastwenty-four years an invalid, you see--the first twenty-four years of mylife--so take all I do and say as the sayings and actions of aninvalid. I'm going away directly, I really am--don't be afraid. I amnot blushing, for I don't think I need blush about it, need I? But I seethat I am out of place in society--society is better without me. It'snot vanity, I assure you. I have thought over it all these last threedays, and I have made up my mind that I ought to unbosom myself candidlybefore you at the first opportunity. There are certain things, certaingreat ideas, which I must not so much as approach, as Prince S. Hasjust reminded me, or I shall make you all laugh. I have no sense ofproportion, I know; my words and gestures do not express my ideas--theyare a humiliation and abasement of the ideas, and therefore, I have noright--and I am too sensitive. Still, I believe I am beloved in thishousehold, and esteemed far more than I deserve. But I can't helpknowing that after twenty-four years of illness there must be some traceleft, so that it is impossible for people to refrain from laughing at mesometimes; don't you think so?"

He seemed to pause for a reply, for some verdict, as it were, and lookedhumbly around him. 

All present stood rooted to the earth with amazement at this unexpectedand apparently uncalled-for outbreak; but the poor prince's painful andrambling speech gave rise to a strange episode. 

"Why do you say all this here?" cried Aglaya, suddenly. "Why do you talklike this to THEM?"

She appeared to be in the last stages of wrath and irritation; her eyesflashed. The prince stood dumbly and blindly before her, and suddenlygrew pale. 

"There is not one of them all who is worthy of these words of yours, "continued Aglaya. "Not one of them is worth your little finger, not oneof them has heart or head to compare with yours! You are more honestthan all, and better, nobler, kinder, wiser than all. There are somehere who are unworthy to bend and pick up the handkerchief you have justdropped. Why do you humiliate yourself like this, and place yourselflower than these people? Why do you debase yourself before them? Whyhave you no pride?"

"My God! Who would ever have believed this?" cried Mrs. Epanchin, wringing her hands. 

"Hurrah for the 'poor knight'!" cried Colia. 

"Be quiet! How dare they laugh at me in your house?" said Aglaya, turning sharply on her mother in that hysterical frame of mind thatrides recklessly over every obstacle and plunges blindly throughproprieties. "Why does everyone, everyone worry and torment me? Why havethey all been bullying me these three days about you, prince? I willnot marry you--never, and under no circumstances! Know that once and forall; as if anyone could marry an absurd creature like you! Just look inthe glass and see what you look like, this very moment! Why, WHY do theytorment me and say I am going to marry you? You must know it; you are inthe plot with them!"

"No one ever tormented you on the subject, " murmured Adelaida, aghast. 

"No one ever thought of such a thing! There has never been a word saidabout it!" cried Alexandra. 

"Who has been annoying her? Who has been tormenting the child? Whocould have said such a thing to her? Is she raving?" cried LizabethaProkofievna, trembling with rage, to the company in general. 

"Every one of them has been saying it--every one of them--all thesethree days! And I will never, never marry him!"

So saying, Aglaya burst into bitter tears, and, hiding her face in herhandkerchief, sank back into a chair. 

"But he has never even--"

"I have never asked you to marry me, Aglaya Ivanovna!" said the prince, of a sudden. 

"WHAT?" cried Mrs. Epanchin, raising her hands in horror. "WHAT'S that?"

She could not believe her ears. 

"I meant to say--I only meant to say, " said the prince, faltering, "I merely meant to explain to Aglaya Ivanovna--to have the honour toexplain, as it were--that I had no intention--never had--to ask thehonour of her hand. I assure you I am not guilty, Aglaya Ivanovna, Iam not, indeed. I never did wish to--I never thought of it at all--andnever shall--you'll see it yourself--you may be quite assured of it. Some wicked person has been maligning me to you; but it's all right. Don't worry about it. "

So saying, the prince approached Aglaya. 

She took the handkerchief from her face, glanced keenly at him, tookin what he had said, and burst out laughing--such a merry, unrestrainedlaugh, so hearty and gay, that. Adelaida could not contain herself. She, too, glanced at the prince's panic-stricken countenance, then rushed ather sister, threw her arms round her neck, and burst into as merry afit of laughter as Aglaya's own. They laughed together like a couple ofschool-girls. Hearing and seeing this, the prince smiled happily, and inaccents of relief and joy, he exclaimed "Well, thank God--thank God!"

Alexandra now joined in, and it looked as though the three sisters weregoing to laugh on for ever. 

"They are insane, " muttered Lizabetha Prokofievna. "Either they frightenone out of one's wits, or else--"

But Prince S. Was laughing now, too, so was Evgenie Pavlovitch, so wasColia, and so was the prince himself, who caught the infection as helooked round radiantly upon the others. 

"Come along, let's go out for a walk!" cried Adelaida. "We'll all gotogether, and the prince must absolutely go with us. You needn't goaway, you dear good fellow! ISN'T he a dear, Aglaya? Isn't he, mother? Imust really give him a kiss for--for his explanation to Aglaya just now. Mother, dear, I may kiss him, mayn't I? Aglaya, may I kiss YOUR prince?"cried the young rogue, and sure enough she skipped up to the prince andkissed his forehead. 

He seized her hands, and pressed them so hard that Adelaida nearly criedout; he then gazed with delight into her eyes, and raising her righthand to his lips with enthusiasm, kissed it three times. 

"Come along, " said Aglaya. "Prince, you must walk with me. May he, mother? This young cavalier, who won't have me? You said you would NEVERhave me, didn't you, prince? No-no, not like that; THAT'S not the wayto give your arm. Don't you know how to give your arm to a lady yet?There--so. Now, come along, you and I will lead the way. Would you liketo lead the way with me alone, tete-a-tete?"

She went on talking and chatting without a pause, with occasional littlebursts of laughter between. 

"Thank God--thank God!" said Lizabetha Prokofievna to herself, withoutquite knowing why she felt so relieved. 

"What extraordinary people they are!" thought Prince S. , for perhapsthe hundredth time since he had entered into intimate relations with thefamily; but--he liked these "extraordinary people, " all the same. As forPrince Lef Nicolaievitch himself, Prince S. Did not seem quite to likehim, somehow. He was decidedly preoccupied and a little disturbed asthey all started off. 

Evgenie Pavlovitch seemed to be in a lively humour. He made Adelaida andAlexandra laugh all the way to the Vauxhall; but they both laughedso very really and promptly that the worthy Evgenie began at last tosuspect that they were not listening to him at all. 

At this idea, he burst out laughing all at once, in quite unaffectedmirth, and without giving any explanation. 

The sisters, who also appeared to be in high spirits, never tired ofglancing at Aglaya and the prince, who were walking in front. It wasevident that their younger sister was a thorough puzzle to them both. 

Prince S. Tried hard to get up a conversation with Mrs. Epanchin uponoutside subjects, probably with the good intention of distracting andamusing her; but he bored her dreadfully. She was absent-minded to adegree, and answered at cross purposes, and sometimes not at all. 

But the puzzle and mystery of Aglaya was not yet over for the evening. The last exhibition fell to the lot of the prince alone. When they hadproceeded some hundred paces or so from the house, Aglaya said to herobstinately silent cavalier in a quick half-whisper:

"Look to the right!"

The prince glanced in the direction indicated. 

"Look closer. Do you see that bench, in the park there, just by thosethree big trees--that green bench?"

The prince replied that he saw it. 

"Do you like the position of it? Sometimes of a morning early, at seveno'clock, when all the rest are still asleep, I come out and sit therealone. "

The prince muttered that the spot was a lovely one. 

"Now, go away, I don't wish to have your arm any longer; or perhaps, better, continue to give me your arm, and walk along beside me, butdon't speak a word to me. I wish to think by myself. "

The warning was certainly unnecessary; for the prince would not havesaid a word all the rest of the time whether forbidden to speak or not. His heart beat loud and painfully when Aglaya spoke of the bench; couldshe--but no! he banished the thought, after an instant's deliberation. 

At Pavlofsk, on weekdays, the public is more select than it is onSundays and Saturdays, when the townsfolk come down to walk about andenjoy the park. 

The ladies dress elegantly, on these days, and it is the fashion togather round the band, which is probably the best of our pleasure-gardenbands, and plays the newest pieces. The behaviour of the public is mostcorrect and proper, and there is an appearance of friendly intimacyamong the usual frequenters. Many come for nothing but to look at theiracquaintances, but there are others who come for the sake of the music. It is very seldom that anything happens to break the harmony of theproceedings, though, of course, accidents will happen everywhere. 

On this particular evening the weather was lovely, and there werea large number of people present. All the places anywhere near theorchestra were occupied. 

Our friends took chairs near the side exit. The crowd and the musiccheered Mrs. Epanchin a little, and amused the girls; they bowed andshook hands with some of their friends and nodded at a distance toothers; they examined the ladies' dresses, noticed comicalitiesand eccentricities among the people, and laughed and talked amongthemselves. Evgenie Pavlovitch, too, found plenty of friends to bow to. Several people noticed Aglaya and the prince, who were still together. 

Before very long two or three young men had come up, and one or tworemained to talk; all of these young men appeared to be on intimateterms with Evgenie Pavlovitch. Among them was a young officer, aremarkably handsome fellow--very good-natured and a great chatterbox. Hetried to get up a conversation with Aglaya, and did his best to secureher attention. Aglaya behaved very graciously to him, and chattedand laughed merrily. Evgenie Pavlovitch begged the prince's leave tointroduce their friend to him. The prince hardly realized what waswanted of him, but the introduction came off; the two men bowed andshook hands. 

Evgenie Pavlovitch's friend asked the prince some question, but thelatter did not reply, or if he did, he muttered something so strangelyindistinct that there was nothing to be made of it. The officer staredintently at him, then glanced at Evgenie, divined why the latter hadintroduced him, and gave his undivided attention to Aglaya again. OnlyEvgenie Pavlovitch observed that Aglaya flushed up for a moment at this. 

The prince did not notice that others were talking and making themselvesagreeable to Aglaya; in fact, at moments, he almost forgot that he wassitting by her himself. At other moments he felt a longing to go awaysomewhere and be alone with his thoughts, and to feel that no one knewwhere he was. 

Or if that were impossible he would like to be alone at home, on theterrace-without either Lebedeff or his children, or anyone else abouthim, and to lie there and think--a day and night and another day again!He thought of the mountains-and especially of a certain spot which heused to frequent, whence he would look down upon the distant valleys andfields, and see the waterfall, far off, like a little silver thread, and the old ruined castle in the distance. Oh! how he longed to be therenow--alone with his thoughts--to think of one thing all his life--onething! A thousand years would not be too much time! And let everyonehere forget him--forget him utterly! How much better it would have beenif they had never known him--if all this could but prove to be a dream. Perhaps it was a dream!

Now and then he looked at Aglaya for five minutes at a time, withouttaking his eyes off her face; but his expression was very strange;he would gaze at her as though she were an object a couple of milesdistant, or as though he were looking at her portrait and not at herselfat all. 

"Why do you look at me like that, prince?" she asked suddenly, breakingoff her merry conversation and laughter with those about her. "I'mafraid of you! You look as though you were just going to put outyour hand and touch my face to see if it's real! Doesn't he, EvgeniePavlovitch--doesn't he look like that?"

The prince seemed surprised that he should have been addressed at all;he reflected a moment, but did not seem to take in what had been saidto him; at all events, he did not answer. But observing that she andthe others had begun to laugh, he too opened his mouth and laughed withthem. 

The laughter became general, and the young officer, who seemed aparticularly lively sort of person, simply shook with mirth. 

Aglaya suddenly whispered angrily to herself the word--

"Idiot!"

"My goodness--surely she is not in love with such a--surely she isn'tmad!" groaned Mrs. Epanchin, under her breath. 

"It's all a joke, mamma; it's just a joke like the 'poorknight'--nothing more whatever, I assure you!" Alexandra whisperedin her ear. "She is chaffing him--making a fool of him, after herown private fashion, that's all! But she carries it just a littletoo far--she is a regular little actress. How she frightened us justnow--didn't she?--and all for a lark!"

"Well, it's lucky she has happened upon an idiot, then, that's all Ican say!" whispered Lizabetha Prokofievna, who was somewhat comforted, however, by her daughter's remark. 

The prince had heard himself referred to as "idiot, " and had shudderedat the moment; but his shudder, it so happened, was not caused by theword applied to him. The fact was that in the crowd, not far from wherelie was sitting, a pale familiar face, with curly black hair, and awell-known smile and expression, had flashed across his vision for amoment, and disappeared again. Very likely he had imagined it! Thereonly remained to him the impression of a strange smile, two eyes, anda bright green tie. Whether the man had disappeared among the crowd, orwhether he had turned towards the Vauxhall, the prince could not say. 

But a moment or two afterwards he began to glance keenly about him. Thatfirst vision might only too likely be the forerunner of a second; it wasalmost certain to be so. Surely he had not forgotten the possibilityof such a meeting when he came to the Vauxhall? True enough, he had notremarked where he was coming to when he set out with Aglaya; he had notbeen in a condition to remark anything at all. 

Had he been more careful to observe his companion, he would have seenthat for the last quarter of an hour Aglaya had also been glancingaround in apparent anxiety, as though she expected to see someone, orsomething particular, among the crowd of people. Now, at the moment whenhis own anxiety became so marked, her excitement also increased visibly, and when he looked about him, she did the same. 

The reason for their anxiety soon became apparent. From that very sideentrance to the Vauxhall, near which the prince and all the Epanchinparty were seated, there suddenly appeared quite a large knot ofpersons, at least a dozen. 

Heading this little band walked three ladies, two of whom wereremarkably lovely; and there was nothing surprising in the fact thatthey should have had a large troop of admirers following in their wake. 

But there was something in the appearance of both the ladies and theiradmirers which was peculiar, quite different for that of the rest of thepublic assembled around the orchestra. 

Nearly everyone observed the little band advancing, and all pretendednot to see or notice them, except a few young fellows who exchangedglances and smiled, saying something to one another in whispers. 

It was impossible to avoid noticing them, however, in reality, for theymade their presence only too conspicuous by laughing and talking loudly. It was to be supposed that some of them were more than half drunk, although they were well enough dressed, some even particularly well. There were one or two, however, who were very strange-looking creatures, with flushed faces and extraordinary clothes; some were military men;not all were quite young; one or two were middle-aged gentlemen ofdecidedly disagreeable appearance, men who are avoided in society likethe plague, decked out in large gold studs and rings, and magnificently"got up, " generally. 

Among our suburban resorts there are some which enjoy a speciallyhigh reputation for respectability and fashion; but the most carefulindividual is not absolutely exempt from the danger of a tile fallingsuddenly upon his head from his neighbour's roof. 

Such a tile was about to descend upon the elegant and decorous publicnow assembled to hear the music. 

In order to pass from the Vauxhall to the band-stand, the visitor hasto descend two or three steps. Just at these steps the group paused, asthough it feared to proceed further; but very quickly one of the threeladies, who formed its apex, stepped forward into the charmed circle, followed by two members of her suite. 

One of these was a middle-aged man of very respectable appearance, butwith the stamp of parvenu upon him, a man whom nobody knew, and whoevidently knew nobody. The other follower was younger and far lessrespectable-looking. 

No one else followed the eccentric lady; but as she descended the stepsshe did not even look behind her, as though it were absolutely the sameto her whether anyone were following or not. She laughed and talkedloudly, however, just as before. She was dressed with great taste, butwith rather more magnificence than was needed for the occasion, perhaps. 

She walked past the orchestra, to where an open carriage was waiting, near the road. 

The prince had not seen HER for more than three months. All these dayssince his arrival from Petersburg he had intended to pay her a visit, but some mysterious presentiment had restrained him. He could notpicture to himself what impression this meeting with her would make uponhim, though he had often tried to imagine it, with fear and trembling. One fact was quite certain, and that was that the meeting would bepainful. 

Several times during the last six months he had recalled the effectwhich the first sight of this face had had upon him, when he only sawits portrait. He recollected well that even the portrait face had leftbut too painful an impression. 

That month in the provinces, when he had seen this woman nearly everyday, had affected him so deeply that he could not now look back uponit calmly. In the very look of this woman there was something whichtortured him. In conversation with Rogojin he had attributed thissensation to pity--immeasurable pity, and this was the truth. The sightof the portrait face alone had filled his heart full of the agony ofreal sympathy; and this feeling of sympathy, nay, of actual SUFFERING, for her, had never left his heart since that hour, and was still in fullforce. Oh yes, and more powerful than ever!

But the prince was not satisfied with what he had said to Rogojin. Onlyat this moment, when she suddenly made her appearance before him, didhe realize to the full the exact emotion which she called up in him, andwhich he had not described correctly to Rogojin. 

And, indeed, there were no words in which he could have expressed hishorror, yes, HORROR, for he was now fully convinced from his own privateknowledge of her, that the woman was mad. 

If, loving a woman above everything in the world, or at least having aforetaste of the possibility of such love for her, one were suddenly tobehold her on a chain, behind bars and under the lash of a keeper, onewould feel something like what the poor prince now felt. 

"What's the matter?" asked Aglaya, in a whisper, giving his sleeve alittle tug. 

He turned his head towards her and glanced at her black and (for somereason) flashing eyes, tried to smile, and then, apparently forgettingher in an instant, turned to the right once more, and continued to watchthe startling apparition before him. 

Nastasia Philipovna was at this moment passing the young ladies' chairs. 

Evgenie Pavlovitch continued some apparently extremely funny andinteresting anecdote to Alexandra, speaking quickly and with muchanimation. The prince remembered that at this moment Aglaya remarked ina half-whisper:

"WHAT a--"

She did not finish her indefinite sentence; she restrained herself in amoment; but it was enough. 

Nastasia Philipovna, who up to now had been walking along as though shehad not noticed the Epanchin party, suddenly turned her head in theirdirection, as though she had just observed Evgenie Pavlovitch sittingthere for the first time. 

"Why, I declare, here he is!" she cried, stopping suddenly. "The man onecan't find with all one's messengers sent about the place, sitting justunder one's nose, exactly where one never thought of looking! I thoughtyou were sure to be at your uncle's by this time. "

Evgenie Pavlovitch flushed up and looked angrily at Nastasia Philipovna, then turned his back on her. 

"What I don't you know about it yet? He doesn't know--imagine that! Why, he's shot himself. Your uncle shot himself this very morning. I was toldat two this afternoon. Half the town must know it by now. They say thereare three hundred and fifty thousand roubles, government money, missing;some say five hundred thousand. And I was under the impression that hewould leave you a fortune! He's whistled it all away. A most depravedold gentleman, really! Well, ta, ta!--bonne chance! Surely you intendto be off there, don't you? Ha, ha! You've retired from the army in goodtime, I see! Plain clothes! Well done, sly rogue! Nonsense! I see--youknew it all before--I dare say you knew all about it yesterday-"

Although the impudence of this attack, this public proclamation ofintimacy, as it were, was doubtless premeditated, and had its specialobject, yet Evgenie Pavlovitch at first seemed to intend to make noshow of observing either his tormentor or her words. But Nastasia'scommunication struck him with the force of a thunderclap. On hearingof his uncle's death he suddenly grew as white as a sheet, and turnedtowards his informant. 

At this moment, Lizabetha Prokofievna rose swiftly from her seat, beckoned her companions, and left the place almost at a run. 

Only the prince stopped behind for a moment, as though in indecision;and Evgenie Pavlovitch lingered too, for he had not collected hisscattered wits. But the Epanchins had not had time to get more thantwenty paces away when a scandalous episode occurred. The young officer, Evgenie Pavlovitch's friend who had been conversing with Aglaya, saidaloud in a great state of indignation:

"She ought to be whipped--that's the only way to deal with creatureslike that--she ought to be whipped!"

This gentleman was a confidant of Evgenie's, and had doubtless heard ofthe carriage episode. 

Nastasia turned to him. Her eyes flashed; she rushed up to a young manstanding near, whom she did not know in the least, but who happened tohave in his hand a thin cane. Seizing this from him, she brought it withall her force across the face of her insulter. 

All this occurred, of course, in one instant of time. 

The young officer, forgetting himself, sprang towards her. Nastasia'sfollowers were not by her at the moment (the elderly gentleman havingdisappeared altogether, and the younger man simply standing aside androaring with laughter). 

In another moment, of course, the police would have been on the spot, and it would have gone hard with Nastasia Philipovna had not unexpectedaid appeared. 

Muishkin, who was but a couple of steps away, had time to spring forwardand seize the officer's arms from behind. 

The officer, tearing himself from the prince's grasp, pushed him soviolently backwards that he staggered a few steps and then subsided intoa chair. 

But there were other defenders for Nastasia on the spot by this time. The gentleman known as the "boxer" now confronted the enraged officer. 

"Keller is my name, sir; ex-lieutenant, " he said, very loud. "If youwill accept me as champion of the fair sex, I am at your disposal. English boxing has no secrets from me. I sympathize with you for theinsult you have received, but I can't permit you to raise your handagainst a woman in public. If you prefer to meet me--as would be morefitting to your rank--in some other manner, of course you understand me, captain. "

But the young officer had recovered himself, and was no longerlistening. At this moment Rogojin appeared, elbowing through the crowd;he took Nastasia's hand, drew it through his arm, and quickly led heraway. He appeared to be terribly excited; he was trembling all over, and was as pale as a corpse. As he carried Nastasia off, he turned andgrinned horribly in the officer's face, and with low malice observed:

"Tfu! look what the fellow got! Look at the blood on his cheek! Ha, ha!"

Recollecting himself, however, and seeing at a glance the sort of peoplehe had to deal with, the officer turned his back on both his opponents, and courteously, but concealing his face with his handkerchief, approached the prince, who was now rising from the chair into which hehad fallen. 

"Prince Muishkin, I believe? The gentleman to whom I had the honour ofbeing introduced?"

"She is mad, insane--I assure you, she is mad, " replied the prince intrembling tones, holding out both his hands mechanically towards theofficer. 

"I cannot boast of any such knowledge, of course, but I wished to knowyour name. "

He bowed and retired without waiting for an answer. 

Five seconds after the disappearance of the last actor in this scene, the police arrived. The whole episode had not lasted more than a coupleof minutes. Some of the spectators had risen from their places, anddeparted altogether; some merely exchanged their seats for others alittle further off; some were delighted with the occurrence, and talkedand laughed over it for a long time. 

In a word, the incident closed as such incidents do, and the band beganto play again. The prince walked away after the Epanchin party. Hadhe thought of looking round to the left after he had been pushed sounceremoniously into the chair, he would have observed Aglaya standingsome twenty yards away. She had stayed to watch the scandalous scene inspite of her mother's and sisters' anxious cries to her to come away. 

Prince S. Ran up to her and persuaded her, at last, to come home withthem. 

Lizabetha Prokofievna saw that she returned in such a state of agitationthat it was doubtful whether she had even heard their calls. But only acouple of minutes later, when they had reached the park, Aglaya suddenlyremarked, in her usual calm, indifferent voice:

"I wanted to see how the farce would end. "

III. 

THE occurrence at the Vauxhall had filled both mother and daughters withsomething like horror. In their excitement Lizabetha Prokofievna and thegirls were nearly running all the way home. 

In her opinion there was so much disclosed and laid bare by the episode, that, in spite of the chaotic condition of her mind, she was able tofeel more or less decided on certain points which, up to now, had beenin a cloudy condition. 

However, one and all of the party realized that something importanthad happened, and that, perhaps fortunately enough, something which hadhitherto been enveloped in the obscurity of guess-work had now begun tocome forth a little from the mists. In spite of Prince S. 's assurancesand explanations, Evgenie Pavlovitch's real character and position wereat last coming to light. He was publicly convicted of intimacy with"that creature. " So thought Lizabetha Prokofievna and her two elderdaughters. 

But the real upshot of the business was that the number of riddles tobe solved was augmented. The two girls, though rather irritated at theirmother's exaggerated alarm and haste to depart from the scene, had beenunwilling to worry her at first with questions. 

Besides, they could not help thinking that their sister Aglaya probablyknew more about the whole matter than both they and their mother puttogether. 

Prince S. Looked as black as night, and was silent and moody. Mrs. Epanchin did not say a word to him all the way home, and he did not seemto observe the fact. Adelaida tried to pump him a little by asking, "whowas the uncle they were talking about, and what was it that had happenedin Petersburg?" But he had merely muttered something disconnected about"making inquiries, " and that "of course it was all nonsense. " "Oh, ofcourse, " replied Adelaida, and asked no more questions. Aglaya, too, wasvery quiet; and the only remark she made on the way home was that theywere "walking much too fast to be pleasant. "

Once she turned and observed the prince hurrying after them. Noticinghis anxiety to catch them up, she smiled ironically, and then lookedback no more. At length, just as they neared the house, General Epanchincame out and met them; he had only just arrived from town. 

His first word was to inquire after Evgenie Pavlovitch. But Lizabethastalked past him, and neither looked at him nor answered his question. 

He immediately judged from the faces of his daughters and Prince S. Thatthere was a thunderstorm brewing, and he himself already bore evidencesof unusual perturbation of mind. 

He immediately button-holed Prince S. , and standing at the front door, engaged in a whispered conversation with him. By the troubled aspect ofboth of them, when they entered the house, and approached Mrs. Epanchin, it was evident that they had been discussing very disturbing news. 

Little by little the family gathered together upstairs in LizabethaProkofievna's apartments, and Prince Muishkin found himself alone onthe verandah when he arrived. He settled himself in a corner and satwaiting, though he knew not what he expected. It never struck him thathe had better go away, with all this disturbance in the house. He seemedto have forgotten all the world, and to be ready to sit on where he wasfor years on end. From upstairs he caught sounds of excited conversationevery now and then. 

He could not say how long he sat there. It grew late and became quitedark. 

Suddenly Aglaya entered the verandah. She seemed to be quite calm, though a little pale. 

Observing the prince, whom she evidently did not expect to see there, alone in the corner, she smiled, and approached him:

"What are you doing there?" she asked. 

The prince muttered something, blushed, and jumped up; but Aglayaimmediately sat down beside him; so he reseated himself. 

She looked suddenly, but attentively into his face, then at the window, as though thinking of something else, and then again at him. 

"Perhaps she wants to laugh at me, " thought the prince, "but no; for ifshe did she certainly would do so. "

"Would you like some tea? I'll order some, " she said, after a minute ortwo of silence. 

"N-no thanks, I don't know--"

"Don't know! How can you not know? By-the-by, look here--if someonewere to challenge you to a duel, what should you do? I wished to ask youthis--some time ago--"

"Why? Nobody would ever challenge me to a duel!"

"But if they were to, would you be dreadfully frightened?"

"I dare say I should be--much alarmed!"

"Seriously? Then are you a coward?"

"N-no!--I don't think so. A coward is a man who is afraid and runs away;the man who is frightened but does not run away, is not quite a coward, "said the prince with a smile, after a moment's thought. 

"And you wouldn't run away?"

"No--I don't think I should run away, " replied the prince, laughingoutright at last at Aglaya's questions. 

"Though I am a woman, I should certainly not run away for anything, "said Aglaya, in a slightly pained voice. "However, I see you arelaughing at me and twisting your face up as usual in order to makeyourself look more interesting. Now tell me, they generally shoot attwenty paces, don't they? At ten, sometimes? I suppose if at ten theymust be either wounded or killed, mustn't they?"

"I don't think they often kill each other at duels. "

"They killed Pushkin that way. "

"That may have been an accident. "

"Not a bit of it; it was a duel to the death, and he was killed. "

"The bullet struck so low down that probably his antagonist would neverhave aimed at that part of him--people never do; he would have aimed athis chest or head; so that probably the bullet hit him accidentally. Ihave been told this by competent authorities. "

"Well, a soldier once told me that they were always ordered to aim atthe middle of the body. So you see they don't aim at the chest or head;they aim lower on purpose. I asked some officer about this afterwards, and he said it was perfectly true. "

"That is probably when they fire from a long distance. "

"Can you shoot at all?"

"No, I have never shot in my life. "

"Can't you even load a pistol?"

"No! That is, I understand how it's done, of course, but I have neverdone it. "

"Then, you don't know how, for it is a matter that needs practice. Nowlisten and learn; in the first place buy good powder, not damp (they sayit mustn't be at all damp, but very dry), some fine kind it is--you mustask for PISTOL powder, not the stuff they load cannons with. They sayone makes the bullets oneself, somehow or other. Have you got a pistol?"

"No--and I don't want one, " said the prince, laughing. 

"Oh, what NONSENSE! You must buy one. French or English are the best, they say. Then take a little powder, about a thimbleful, or perhaps two, and pour it into the barrel. Better put plenty. Then push in a bit offelt (it MUST be felt, for some reason or other); you can easily geta bit off some old mattress, or off a door; it's used to keep the coldout. Well, when you have pushed the felt down, put the bullet in; do youhear now? The bullet last and the powder first, not the other way, orthe pistol won't shoot. What are you laughing at? I wish you to buya pistol and practise every day, and you must learn to hit a mark forCERTAIN; will you?"

The prince only laughed. Aglaya stamped her foot with annoyance. 

Her serious air, however, during this conversation had surprised himconsiderably. He had a feeling that he ought to be asking her something, that there was something he wanted to find out far more important thanhow to load a pistol; but his thoughts had all scattered, and he wasonly aware that she was sitting by, him, and talking to him, and thathe was looking at her; as to what she happened to be saying to him, thatdid not matter in the least. 

The general now appeared on the verandah, coming from upstairs. He wason his way out, with an expression of determination on his face, and ofpreoccupation and worry also. 

"Ah! Lef Nicolaievitch, it's you, is it? Where are you off to now?" heasked, oblivious of the fact that the prince had not showed the leastsign of moving. "Come along with me; I want to say a word or two toyou. "

"Au revoir, then!" said Aglaya, holding out her hand to the prince. 

It was quite dark now, and Muishkin could not see her face clearly, buta minute or two later, when he and the general had left the villa, hesuddenly flushed up, and squeezed his right hand tightly. 

It appeared that he and the general were going in the same direction. Inspite of the lateness of the hour, the general was hurrying away to talkto someone upon some important subject. Meanwhile he talked incessantlybut disconnectedly to the prince, and continually brought in the name ofLizabetha Prokofievna. 

If the prince had been in a condition to pay more attention to whatthe general was saying, he would have discovered that the latter wasdesirous of drawing some information out of him, or indeed of asking himsome question outright; but that he could not make up his mind to cometo the point. 

Muishkin was so absent, that from the very first he could not attendto a word the other was saying; and when the general suddenly stoppedbefore him with some excited question, he was obliged to confess, ignominiously, that he did not know in the least what he had beentalking about. 

The general shrugged his shoulders. 

"How strange everyone, yourself included, has become of late, " saidhe. "I was telling you that I cannot in the least understand LizabethaProkofievna's ideas and agitations. She is in hysterics up there, andmoans and says that we have been 'shamed and disgraced. ' How? Why? When?By whom? I confess that I am very much to blame myself; I do not concealthe fact; but the conduct, the outrageous behaviour of this woman, mustreally be kept within limits, by the police if necessary, and I am juston my way now to talk the question over and make some arrangements. It can all be managed quietly and gently, even kindly, and without theslightest fuss or scandal. I foresee that the future is pregnant withevents, and that there is much that needs explanation. There is intriguein the wind; but if on one side nothing is known, on the other sidenothing will be explained. If I have heard nothing about it, nor haveYOU, nor HE, nor SHE--who HAS heard about it, I should like to know? HowCAN all this be explained except by the fact that half of it is mirageor moonshine, or some hallucination of that sort?"

"SHE is insane, " muttered the prince, suddenly recollecting all that hadpassed, with a spasm of pain at his heart. 

"I too had that idea, and I slept in peace. But now I see that theiropinion is more correct. I do not believe in the theory of madness! Thewoman has no common sense; but she is not only not insane, she is artfulto a degree. Her outburst of this evening about Evgenie's uncle provesthat conclusively. It was VILLAINOUS, simply jesuitical, and it was allfor some special purpose. "

"What about Evgenie's uncle?"

"My goodness, Lef Nicolaievitch, why, you can't have heard a singleword I said! Look at me, I'm still trembling all over with the dreadfulshock! It is that that kept me in town so late. Evgenie Pavlovitch'suncle--"

"Well?" cried the prince. 

"Shot himself this morning, at seven o'clock. A respected, eminent oldman of seventy; and exactly point for point as she described it; a sumof money, a considerable sum of government money, missing!"

"Why, how could she--"

"What, know of it? Ha, ha, ha! Why, there was a whole crowd round herthe moment she appeared on the scenes here. You know what sort of peoplesurround her nowadays, and solicit the honour of her 'acquaintance. 'Of course she might easily have heard the news from someone coming fromtown. All Petersburg, if not all Pavlofsk, knows it by now. Look at theslyness of her observation about Evgenie's uniform! I mean, her remarkthat he had retired just in time! There's a venomous hint for you, if you like! No, no! there's no insanity there! Of course I refuseto believe that Evgenie Pavlovitch could have known beforehand of thecatastrophe; that is, that at such and such a day at seven o'clock, andall that; but he might well have had a presentiment of the truth. AndI--all of us--Prince S. And everybody, believed that he was to inherita large fortune from this uncle. It's dreadful, horrible! Mind, I don'tsuspect Evgenie of anything, be quite clear on that point; but thething is a little suspicious, nevertheless. Prince S. Can't get over it. Altogether it is a very extraordinary combination of circumstances. "

"What suspicion attaches to Evgenie Pavlovitch?"

"Oh, none at all! He has behaved very well indeed. I didn't mean todrop any sort of hint. His own fortune is intact, I believe. LizabethaProkofievna, of course, refuses to listen to anything. That's the worstof it all, these family catastrophes or quarrels, or whatever you liketo call them. You know, prince, you are a friend of the family, so Idon't mind telling you; it now appears that Evgenie Pavlovitch proposedto Aglaya a month ago, and was refused. "

"Impossible!" cried the prince. 

"Why? Do you know anything about it? Look here, " continued the general, more agitated than ever, and trembling with excitement, "maybe I havebeen letting the cat out of the bag too freely with you, if so, itis because you are--that sort of man, you know! Perhaps you have somespecial information?"

"I know nothing about Evgenie Pavlovitch!" said the prince. 

"Nor do I! They always try to bury me underground when there's anythinggoing on; they don't seem to reflect that it is unpleasant to a manto be treated so! I won't stand it! We have just had a terriblescene!--mind, I speak to you as I would to my own son! Aglaya laughs ather mother. Her sisters guessed about Evgenie having proposed and beenrejected, and told Lizabetha. 

"I tell you, my dear fellow, Aglaya is such an extraordinary, such aself-willed, fantastical little creature, you wouldn't believe it! Everyhigh quality, every brilliant trait of heart and mind, are to befound in her, and, with it all, so much caprice and mockery, such wildfancies--indeed, a little devil! She has just been laughing at hermother to her very face, and at her sisters, and at Prince S. , andeverybody--and of course she always laughs at me! You know I love thechild--I love her even when she laughs at me, and I believe the wildlittle creature has a special fondness for me for that very reason. Sheis fonder of me than any of the others. I dare swear she has had agood laugh at YOU before now! You were having a quiet talk just now, Iobserved, after all the thunder and lightning upstairs. She was sittingwith you just as though there had been no row at all. "

The prince blushed painfully in the darkness, and closed his right handtightly, but he said nothing. 

"My dear good Prince Lef Nicolaievitch, " began the general again, suddenly, "both I and Lizabetha Prokofievna--(who has begun to respectyou once more, and me through you, goodness knows why!)--we both loveyou very sincerely, and esteem you, in spite of any appearances to thecontrary. But you'll admit what a riddle it must have been for us whenthat calm, cold, little spitfire, Aglaya--(for she stood up to hermother and answered her questions with inexpressible contempt, and minestill more so, because, like a fool, I thought it my duty to assertmyself as head of the family)--when Aglaya stood up of a sudden andinformed us that 'that madwoman' (strangely enough, she used exactly thesame expression as you did) 'has taken it into her head to marry meto Prince Lef Nicolaievitch, and therefore is doing her best to chokeEvgenie Pavlovitch off, and rid the house of him. ' That's what she said. She would not give the slightest explanation; she burst out laughing, banged the door, and went away. We all stood there with our mouths open. Well, I was told afterwards of your little passage with Aglaya thisafternoon, and-and--dear prince--you are a good, sensible fellow, don'tbe angry if I speak out--she is laughing at you, my boy! She is enjoyingherself like a child, at your expense, and therefore, since she is achild, don't be angry with her, and don't think anything of it. I assureyou, she is simply making a fool of you, just as she does with one andall of us out of pure lack of something better to do. Well--good-bye!You know our feelings, don't you--our sincere feelings for yourself?They are unalterable, you know, dear boy, under all circumstances, but--Well, here we part; I must go down to the right. Rarely have I satso uncomfortably in my saddle, as they say, as I now sit. And peopletalk of the charms of a country holiday!"

Left to himself at the cross-roads, the prince glanced around him, quickly crossed the road towards the lighted window of a neighbouringhouse, and unfolded a tiny scrap of paper which he had held clasped inhis right hand during the whole of his conversation with the general. 

He read the note in the uncertain rays that fell from the window. It wasas follows:

"Tomorrow morning, I shall be at the green bench in the park at seven, and shall wait there for you. I have made up my mind to speak to youabout a most important matter which closely concerns yourself. 

"P. S. --I trust that you will not show this note to anyone. Though Iam ashamed of giving you such instructions, I feel that I must do so, considering what you are. I therefore write the words, and blush foryour simple character. 

"P. P. S. --It is the same green bench that I showed you before. There!aren't you ashamed of yourself? I felt that it was necessary to repeateven that information. "

The note was written and folded anyhow, evidently in a great hurry, andprobably just before Aglaya had come down to the verandah. 

In inexpressible agitation, amounting almost to fear, the prince slippedquickly away from the window, away from the light, like a frightenedthief, but as he did so he collided violently with some gentleman whoseemed to spring from the earth at his feet. 

"I was watching for you, prince, " said the individual. 

"Is that you, Keller?" said the prince, in surprise. 

"Yes, I've been looking for you. I waited for you at the Epanchins'house, but of course I could not come in. I dogged you from behindas you walked along with the general. Well, prince, here is Keller, absolutely at your service--command him!--ready to sacrificehimself--even to die in case of need. "

"But-why?"

"Oh, why?--Of course you'll be challenged! That was young LieutenantMoloftsoff. I know him, or rather of him; he won't pass an insult. Hewill take no notice of Rogojin and myself, and, therefore, you are theonly one left to account for. You'll have to pay the piper, prince. Hehas been asking about you, and undoubtedly his friend will call on youtomorrow--perhaps he is at your house already. If you would do me thehonour to have me for a second, prince, I should be happy. That's why Ihave been looking for you now. "

"Duel! You've come to talk about a duel, too!" The prince burstout laughing, to the great astonishment of Keller. He laughedunrestrainedly, and Keller, who had been on pins and needles, and in afever of excitement to offer himself as "second, " was very near beingoffended. 

"You caught him by the arms, you know, prince. No man of proper pridecan stand that sort of treatment in public. "

"Yes, and he gave me a fearful dig in the chest, " cried the prince, still laughing. "What are we to fight about? I shall beg his pardon, that's all. But if we must fight--we'll fight! Let him have a shot atme, by all means; I should rather like it. Ha, ha, ha! I know how toload a pistol now; do you know how to load a pistol, Keller? First, youhave to buy the powder, you know; it mustn't be wet, and it mustn't bethat coarse stuff that they load cannons with--it must be pistol powder. Then you pour the powder in, and get hold of a bit of felt from somedoor, and then shove the bullet in. But don't shove the bullet in beforethe powder, because the thing wouldn't go off--do you hear, Keller, thething wouldn't go off! Ha, ha, ha! Isn't that a grand reason, Keller, my friend, eh? Do you know, my dear fellow, I really must kiss you, andembrace you, this very moment. Ha, ha! How was it you so suddenly poppedup in front of me as you did? Come to my house as soon as you can, andwe'll have some champagne. We'll all get drunk! Do you know I have adozen of champagne in Lebedeff's cellar? Lebedeff sold them to me theday after I arrived. I took the lot. We'll invite everybody! Are yougoing to do any sleeping tonight?"

"As much as usual, prince--why?"

"Pleasant dreams then--ha, ha!"

The prince crossed the road, and disappeared into the park, leaving theastonished Keller in a state of ludicrous wonder. He had never beforeseen the prince in such a strange condition of mind, and could not haveimagined the possibility of it. 

"Fever, probably, " he said to himself, "for the man is all nerves, andthis business has been a little too much for him. He is not AFRAID, that's clear; that sort never funks! H'm! champagne! That was aninteresting item of news, at all events!--Twelve bottles! Dear me, that's a very respectable little stock indeed! I bet anything Lebedefflent somebody money on deposit of this dozen of champagne. Hum! he's anice fellow, is this prince! I like this sort of man. Well, I needn't bewasting time here, and if it's a case of champagne, why--there's no timelike the present!"

That the prince was almost in a fever was no more than the truth. Hewandered about the park for a long while, and at last came to himself ina lonely avenue. He was vaguely conscious that he had already paced thisparticular walk--from that large, dark tree to the bench at the otherend--about a hundred yards altogether--at least thirty times backwardsand forwards. 

As to recollecting what he had been thinking of all that time, he couldnot. He caught himself, however, indulging in one thought which made himroar with laughter, though there was nothing really to laugh at in it;but he felt that he must laugh, and go on laughing. 

It struck him that the idea of the duel might not have occurred toKeller alone, but that his lesson in the art of pistol-loading mighthave been not altogether accidental! "Pooh! nonsense!" he said tohimself, struck by another thought, of a sudden. "Why, she was immenselysurprised to find me there on the verandah, and laughed and talked aboutTEA! And yet she had this little note in her hand, therefore she musthave known that I was sitting there. So why was she surprised? Ha, ha, ha!"

He pulled the note out and kissed it; then paused and reflected. "Howstrange it all is! how strange!" he muttered, melancholy enough now. Inmoments of great joy, he invariably felt a sensation of melancholy comeover him--he could not tell why. 

He looked intently around him, and wondered why he had come here; he wasvery tired, so he approached the bench and sat down on it. Around himwas profound silence; the music in the Vauxhall was over. The parkseemed quite empty, though it was not, in reality, later than half-pasteleven. It was a quiet, warm, clear night--a real Petersburg night ofearly June; but in the dense avenue, where he was sitting, it was almostpitch dark. 

If anyone had come up at this moment and told him that he was in love, passionately in love, he would have rejected the idea with astonishment, and, perhaps, with irritation. And if anyone had added that Aglaya'snote was a love-letter, and that it contained an appointment to alover's rendezvous, he would have blushed with shame for the speaker, and, probably, have challenged him to a duel. 

All this would have been perfectly sincere on his part. He had neverfor a moment entertained the idea of the possibility of this girl lovinghim, or even of such a thing as himself falling in love with her. Thepossibility of being loved himself, "a man like me, " as he put it, heranked among ridiculous suppositions. It appeared to him that it wassimply a joke on Aglaya's part, if there really were anything in it atall; but that seemed to him quite natural. His preoccupation was causedby something different. 

As to the few words which the general had let slip about Aglaya laughingat everybody, and at himself most of all--he entirely believed them. Hedid not feel the slightest sensation of offence; on the contrary, he wasquite certain that it was as it should be. 

His whole thoughts were now as to next morning early; he would seeher; he would sit by her on that little green bench, and listen to howpistols were loaded, and look at her. He wanted nothing more. 

The question as to what she might have to say of special interest tohimself occurred to him once or twice. He did not doubt, for a moment, that she really had some such subject of conversation in store, but sovery little interested in the matter was he that it did not strike himto wonder what it could be. The crunch of gravel on the path suddenlycaused him to raise his head. 

A man, whose face it was difficult to see in the gloom, approached thebench, and sat down beside him. The prince peered into his face, andrecognized the livid features of Rogojin. 

"I knew you'd be wandering about somewhere here. I didn't have to lookfor you very long, " muttered the latter between his teeth. 

It was the first time they had met since the encounter on the staircaseat the hotel. 

Painfully surprised as he was at this sudden apparition of Rogojin, the prince, for some little while, was unable to collect his thoughts. Rogojin, evidently, saw and understood the impression he had made; andthough he seemed more or less confused at first, yet he began talkingwith what looked like assumed ease and freedom. However, the prince soonchanged his mind on this score, and thought that there was not only noaffectation of indifference, but that Rogojin was not even particularlyagitated. If there were a little apparent awkwardness, it was only inhis words and gestures. The man could not change his heart. 

"How did you--find me here?" asked the prince for the sake of sayingsomething. 

"Keller told me (I found him at your place) that you were in the park. 'Of course he is!' I thought. "

"Why so?" asked the prince uneasily. 

Rogojin smiled, but did not explain. 

"I received your letter, Lef Nicolaievitch--what's the good of allthat?--It's no use, you know. I've come to you from HER, --she bade metell you that she must see you, she has something to say to you. Shetold me to find you today. "

"I'll come tomorrow. Now I'm going home--are you coming to my house?"

"Why should I? I've given you the message. --Goodbye!"

"Won't you come?" asked the prince in a gentle voice. 

"What an extraordinary man you are! I wonder at you!" Rogojin laughedsarcastically. 

"Why do you hate me so?" asked the prince, sadly. "You know yourselfthat all you suspected is quite unfounded. I felt you were still angrywith me, though. Do you know why? Because you tried to kill me--that'swhy you can't shake off your wrath against me. I tell you that I onlyremember the Parfen Rogojin with whom I exchanged crosses, and vowedbrotherhood. I wrote you this in yesterday's letter, in order that youmight forget all that madness on your part, and that you might not feelcalled to talk about it when we met. Why do you avoid me? Why do youhold your hand back from me? I tell you again, I consider all that haspassed a delirium, an insane dream. I can understand all you did, and all you felt that day, as if it were myself. What you were thenimagining was not the case, and could never be the case. Why, then, should there be anger between us?"

"You don't know what anger is!" laughed Rogojin, in reply to theprince's heated words. 

He had moved a pace or two away, and was hiding his hands behind him. 

"No, it is impossible for me to come to your house again, " he addedslowly. 

"Why? Do you hate me so much as all that?"

"I don't love you, Lef Nicolaievitch, and, therefore, what would bethe use of my coming to see you? You are just like a child--you want aplaything, and it must be taken out and given you--and then you don'tknow how to work it. You are simply repeating all you said in yourletter, and what's the use? Of course I believe every word you say, andI know perfectly well that you neither did or ever can deceive me inany way, and yet, I don't love you. You write that you've forgotteneverything, and only remember your brother Parfen, with whom youexchanged crosses, and that you don't remember anything about theRogojin who aimed a knife at your throat. What do you know about myfeelings, eh?" (Rogojin laughed disagreeably. ) "Here you are holding outyour brotherly forgiveness to me for a thing that I have perhaps neverrepented of in the slightest degree. I did not think of it again allthat evening; all my thoughts were centred on something else--"

"Not think of it again? Of course you didn't!" cried the prince. "And Idare swear that you came straight away down here to Pavlofsk to listento the music and dog her about in the crowd, and stare at her, just asyou did today. There's nothing surprising in that! If you hadn't been inthat condition of mind that you could think of nothing but one subject, you would, probably, never have raised your knife against me. I had apresentiment of what you would do, that day, ever since I saw you firstin the morning. Do you know yourself what you looked like? I knewyou would try to murder me even at the very moment when we exchangedcrosses. What did you take me to your mother for? Did you think to stayyour hand by doing so? Perhaps you did not put your thoughts into words, but you and I were thinking the same thing, or feeling the same thinglooming over us, at the same moment. What should you think of me now ifyou had not raised your knife to me--the knife which God averted from mythroat? I would have been guilty of suspecting you all the same--and youwould have intended the murder all the same; therefore we should havebeen mutually guilty in any case. Come, don't frown; you needn't laughat me, either. You say you haven't 'repented. ' Repented! You probablycouldn't, if you were to try; you dislike me too much for that. Why, if I were an angel of light, and as innocent before you as a babe, youwould still loathe me if you believed that SHE loved me, instead ofloving yourself. That's jealousy--that is the real jealousy. 

"But do you know what I have been thinking out during this last week, Parfen? I'll tell you. What if she loves you now better than anyone? Andwhat if she torments you BECAUSE she loves you, and in proportion to herlove for you, so she torments you the more? She won't tell you this, ofcourse; you must have eyes to see. Why do you suppose she consents tomarry you? She must have a reason, and that reason she will tell yousome day. Some women desire the kind of love you give her, and she isprobably one of these. Your love and your wild nature impress her. Doyou know that a woman is capable of driving a man crazy almost, withher cruelties and mockeries, and feels not one single pang of regret, because she looks at him and says to herself, 'There! I'll torment thisman nearly into his grave, and then, oh! how I'll compensate him for itall with my love!'"

Rogojin listened to the end, and then burst out laughing:

"Why, prince, I declare you must have had a taste of this sort of thingyourself--haven't you? I have heard tell of something of the kind, youknow; is it true?"

"What? What can you have heard?" said the prince, stammering. 

Rogojin continued to laugh loudly. He had listened to the prince'sspeech with curiosity and some satisfaction. The speaker's impulsivewarmth had surprised and even comforted him. 

"Why, I've not only heard of it; I see it for myself, " he said. "Whenhave you ever spoken like that before? It wasn't like yourself, prince. Why, if I hadn't heard this report about you, I should never have comeall this way into the park--at midnight, too!"

"I don't understand you in the least, Parfen. "

"Oh, SHE told me all about it long ago, and tonight I saw for myself. I saw you at the music, you know, and whom you were sitting with. Sheswore to me yesterday, and again today, that you are madly in love withAglaya Ivanovna. But that's all the same to me, prince, and it's not myaffair at all; for if you have ceased to love HER, SHE has not ceased tolove YOU. You know, of course, that she wants to marry you to that girl?She's sworn to it! Ha, ha! She says to me, 'Until then I won't marryyou. When they go to church, we'll go too-and not before. ' What on earthdoes she mean by it? I don't know, and I never did. Either she loves youwithout limits or--yet, if she loves you, why does she wish to marryyou to another girl? She says, 'I want to see him happy, ' which is tosay--she loves you. "

"I wrote, and I say to you once more, that she is not in her rightmind, " said the prince, who had listened with anguish to what Rogojinsaid. 

"Goodness knows--you may be wrong there! At all events, she named theday this evening, as we left the gardens. 'In three weeks, ' says she, 'and perhaps sooner, we shall be married. ' She swore to it, took off hercross and kissed it. So it all depends upon you now, prince, You see!Ha, ha!"

"That's all madness. What you say about me, Parfen, never can and neverwill be. Tomorrow, I shall come and see you--"

"How can she be mad, " Rogojin interrupted, "when she is sane enough forother people and only mad for you? How can she write letters to HER, ifshe's mad? If she were insane they would observe it in her letters. "

"What letters?" said the prince, alarmed. 

"She writes to HER--and the girl reads the letters. Haven't youheard?--You are sure to hear; she's sure to show you the lettersherself. "

"I won't believe this!" cried the prince. 

"Why, prince, you've only gone a few steps along this road, I perceive. You are evidently a mere beginner. Wait a bit! Before long, you'll haveyour own detectives, you'll watch day and night, and you'll know everylittle thing that goes on there--that is, if--"

"Drop that subject, Rogojin, and never mention it again. And listen:as I have sat here, and talked, and listened, it has suddenly struck methat tomorrow is my birthday. It must be about twelve o'clock, now; comehome with me--do, and we'll see the day in! We'll have some wine, andyou shall wish me--I don't know what--but you, especially you, mustwish me a good wish, and I shall wish you full happiness in return. Otherwise, hand me my cross back again. You didn't return it to me nextday. Haven't you got it on now?"

"Yes, I have, " said Rogojin. 

"Come along, then. I don't wish to meet my new year without you--my newlife, I should say, for a new life is beginning for me. Did you know, Parfen, that a new life had begun for me?"

"I see for myself that it is so--and I shall tell HER. But you are notquite yourself, Lef Nicolaievitch. "

IV. 

THE prince observed with great surprise, as he approached his villa, accompanied by Rogojin, that a large number of people were assembled onhis verandah, which was brilliantly lighted up. The company seemed merryand were noisily laughing and talking--even quarrelling, to judge fromthe sounds. At all events they were clearly enjoying themselves, andthe prince observed further on closer investigation--that all had beendrinking champagne. To judge from the lively condition of some of theparty, it was to be supposed that a considerable quantity of champagnehad been consumed already. 

All the guests were known to the prince; but the curious part of thematter was that they had all arrived on the same evening, as though withone accord, although he had only himself recollected the fact that itwas his birthday a few moments since. 

"You must have told somebody you were going to trot out the champagne, and that's why they are all come!" muttered Rogojin, as the two enteredthe verandah. "We know all about that! You've only to whistle and theycome up in shoals!" he continued, almost angrily. He was doubtlessthinking of his own late experiences with his boon companions. 

All surrounded the prince with exclamations of welcome, and, on hearingthat it was his birthday, with cries of congratulation and delight; manyof them were very noisy. 

The presence of certain of those in the room surprised the princevastly, but the guest whose advent filled him with the greatestwonder--almost amounting to alarm--was Evgenie Pavlovitch. The princecould not believe his eyes when he beheld the latter, and could not helpthinking that something was wrong. 

Lebedeff ran up promptly to explain the arrival of all these gentlemen. He was himself somewhat intoxicated, but the prince gathered from hislong-winded periods that the party had assembled quite naturally, andaccidentally. 

First of all Hippolyte had arrived, early in the evening, and feelingdecidedly better, had determined to await the prince on the verandah. There Lebedeff had joined him, and his household had followed--that is, his daughters and General Ivolgin. Burdovsky had brought Hippolyte, andstayed on with him. Gania and Ptitsin had dropped in accidentally lateron; then came Keller, and he and Colia insisted on having champagne. Evgenie Pavlovitch had only dropped in half an hour or so ago. Lebedeffhad served the champagne readily. 

"My own though, prince, my own, mind, " he said, "and there'll be somesupper later on; my daughter is getting it ready now. Come and sit down, prince, we are all waiting for you, we want you with us. Fancy what wehave been discussing! You know the question, 'to be or not to be, '--outof Hamlet! A contemporary theme! Quite up-to-date! Mr. Hippolyte hasbeen eloquent to a degree. He won't go to bed, but he has only drunk alittle champagne, and that can't do him any harm. Come along, prince, and settle the question. Everyone is waiting for you, sighing for thelight of your luminous intelligence. . . "

The prince noticed the sweet, welcoming look on Vera Lebedeff's face, asshe made her way towards him through the crowd. He held out his hand toher. She took it, blushing with delight, and wished him "a happy lifefrom that day forward. " Then she ran off to the kitchen, where herpresence was necessary to help in the preparations for supper. Beforethe prince's arrival she had spent some time on the terrace, listeningeagerly to the conversation, though the visitors, mostly under theinfluence of wine, were discussing abstract subjects far beyond hercomprehension. In the next room her younger sister lay on a woodenchest, sound asleep, with her mouth wide open; but the boy, Lebedeff'sson, had taken up his position close beside Colia and Hippolyte, hisface lit up with interest in the conversation of his father and therest, to which he would willingly have listened for ten hours at astretch. 

"I have waited for you on purpose, and am very glad to see you arrive sohappy, " said Hippolyte, when the prince came forward to press his hand, immediately after greeting Vera. 

"And how do you know that I am 'so happy'?

"I can see it by your face! Say 'how do you do' to the others, andcome and sit down here, quick--I've been waiting for you!" he added, accentuating the fact that he had waited. On the prince's asking, "Willit not be injurious to you to sit out so late?" he replied that he couldnot believe that he had thought himself dying three days or so ago, forhe never had felt better than this evening. 

Burdovsky next jumped up and explained that he had come in by accident, having escorted Hippolyte from town. He murmured that he was glad hehad "written nonsense" in his letter, and then pressed the prince's handwarmly and sat down again. 

The prince approached Evgenie Pavlovitch last of all. The latterimmediately took his arm. 

"I have a couple of words to say to you, " he began, "and those on a veryimportant matter; let's go aside for a minute or two. "

"Just a couple of words!" whispered another voice in the prince's otherear, and another hand took his other arm. Muishkin turned, and to hisgreat surprise observed a red, flushed face and a droll-looking figurewhich he recognized at once as that of Ferdishenko. Goodness knows wherehe had turned up from!

"Do you remember Ferdishenko?" he asked. 

"Where have you dropped from?" cried the prince. 

"He is sorry for his sins now, prince, " cried Keller. "He did notwant to let you know he was here; he was hidden over there in thecorner, --but he repents now, he feels his guilt. "

"Why, what has he done?"

"I met him outside and brought him in--he's a gentleman who doesn'toften allow his friends to see him, of late--but he's sorry now. "

"Delighted, I'm sure!--I'll come back directly, gentlemen, --sit downthere with the others, please, --excuse me one moment, " said the host, getting away with difficulty in order to follow Evgenie. 

"You are very gay here, " began the latter, "and I have had quitea pleasant half-hour while I waited for you. Now then, my dear LefNicolaievitch, this is what's the matter. I've arranged it all withMoloftsoff, and have just come in to relieve your mind on that score. You need be under no apprehensions. He was very sensible, as he shouldbe, of course, for I think he was entirely to blame himself. "

"What Moloftsoff?"

"The young fellow whose arms you held, don't you know? He was so wildwith you that he was going to send a friend to you tomorrow morning. "

"What nonsense!"

"Of course it is nonsense, and in nonsense it would have ended, doubtless; but you know these fellows, they--"

"Excuse me, but I think you must have something else that you wished tospeak about, Evgenie Pavlovitch?"

"Of course, I have!" said the other, laughing. "You see, my dear fellow, tomorrow, very early in the morning, I must be off to town about thisunfortunate business (my uncle, you know!). Just imagine, my dear sir, itis all true--word for word--and, of course, everybody knew it exceptingmyself. All this has been such a blow to me that I have not managed tocall in at the Epanchins'. Tomorrow I shall not see them either, becauseI shall be in town. I may not be here for three days or more; in a word, my affairs are a little out of gear. But though my town business is, of course, most pressing, still I determined not to go away until I hadseen you, and had a clear understanding with you upon certain points;and that without loss of time. I will wait now, if you will allow me, until the company departs; I may just as well, for I have nowhere elseto go to, and I shall certainly not do any sleeping tonight; I'm far tooexcited. And finally, I must confess that, though I know it is bad formto pursue a man in this way, I have come to beg your friendship, mydear prince. You are an unusual sort of a person; you don't lie at everystep, as some men do; in fact, you don't lie at all, and there is amatter in which I need a true and sincere friend, for I really may claimto be among the number of bona fide unfortunates just now. "

He laughed again. 

"But the trouble is, " said the prince, after a slight pause forreflection, "that goodness only knows when this party will break up. Hadn't we better stroll into the park? I'll excuse myself, there's nodanger of their going away. "

"No, no! I have my reasons for wishing them not to suspect us of beingengaged in any specially important conversation. There are gentrypresent who are a little too much interested in us. You are not aware ofthat perhaps, prince? It will be a great deal better if they see thatwe are friendly just in an ordinary way. They'll all go in a couple ofhours, and then I'll ask you to give me twenty minutes-half an hour atmost. "

"By all means! I assure you I am delighted--you need not have enteredinto all these explanations. As for your remarks about friendship withme--thanks, very much indeed. You must excuse my being a little absentthis evening. Do you know, I cannot somehow be attentive to anythingjust now?"

"I see, I see, " said Evgenie, smiling gently. His mirth seemed very nearthe surface this evening. 

"What do you see?" said the prince, startled. 

"I don't want you to suspect that I have simply come here to deceiveyou and pump information out of you!" said Evgenie, still smiling, andwithout making any direct reply to the question. 

"Oh, but I haven't the slightest doubt that you did come to pump me, "said the prince, laughing himself, at last; "and I dare say you arequite prepared to deceive me too, so far as that goes. But what of that?I'm not afraid of you; besides, you'll hardly believe it, I feelas though I really didn't care a scrap one way or the other, justnow!--And-and-and as you are a capital fellow, I am convinced of that, Idare say we really shall end by being good friends. I like you very muchEvgenie Pavlovitch; I consider you a very good fellow indeed. "

"Well, in any case, you are a most delightful man to have to deal with, be the business what it may, " concluded Evgenie. "Come along now, I'lldrink a glass to your health. I'm charmed to have entered into alliancewith you. By-the-by, " he added suddenly, "has this young Hippolyte comedown to stay with you?"

"Yes. "

"He's not going to die at once, I should think, is he?"

"Why?"

"Oh, I don't know. I've been half an hour here with him, and he--"

Hippolyte had been waiting for the prince all this time, and had neverceased looking at him and Evgenie Pavlovitch as they conversed in thecorner. He became much excited when they approached the table once more. He was disturbed in his mind, it seemed; perspiration stood in largedrops on his forehead; in his gleaming eyes it was easy to readimpatience and agitation; his gaze wandered from face to face of thosepresent, and from object to object in the room, apparently without aim. He had taken a part, and an animated one, in the noisy conversation ofthe company; but his animation was clearly the outcome of fever. Histalk was almost incoherent; he would break off in the middle of asentence which he had begun with great interest, and forget what he hadbeen saying. The prince discovered to his dismay that Hippolyte had beenallowed to drink two large glasses of champagne; the one now standing byhim being the third. All this he found out afterwards; at the moment hedid not notice anything, very particularly. 

"Do you know I am specially glad that today is your birthday!" criedHippolyte. 

"Why?"

"You'll soon see. D'you know I had a feeling that there would be a lotof people here tonight? It's not the first time that my presentimentshave been fulfilled. I wish I had known it was your birthday, I'd havebrought you a present--perhaps I have got a present for you! Who knows?Ha, ha! How long is it now before daylight?"

"Not a couple of hours, " said Ptitsin, looking at his watch. "What's thegood of daylight now? One can read all night in the open air withoutit, " said someone. 

"The good of it! Well, I want just to see a ray of the sun, " saidHippolyte. "Can one drink to the sun's health, do you think, prince?"

"Oh, I dare say one can; but you had better be calm and lie down, Hippolyte--that's much more important. 

"You are always preaching about resting; you are a regular nurse to me, prince. As soon as the sun begins to 'resound' in the sky--what poetsaid that? 'The sun resounded in the sky. ' It is beautiful, thoughthere's no sense in it!--then we will go to bed. Lebedeff, tell me, isthe sun the source of life? What does the source, or 'spring, ' of lifereally mean in the Apocalypse? You have heard of the 'Star that iscalled Wormwood, ' prince?"

"I have heard that Lebedeff explains it as the railroads that coverEurope like a net. "

Everybody laughed, and Lebedeff got up abruptly. 

"No! Allow me, that is not what we are discussing!" he cried, wavinghis hand to impose silence. "Allow me! With these gentlemen. . . Allthese gentlemen, " he added, suddenly addressing the prince, "on certainpoints. . . That is. . . " He thumped the table repeatedly, and the laughterincreased. Lebedeff was in his usual evening condition, and had justended a long and scientific argument, which had left him excited andirritable. On such occasions he was apt to evince a supreme contempt forhis opponents. 

"It is not right! Half an hour ago, prince, it was agreed among us thatno one should interrupt, no one should laugh, that each person was toexpress his thoughts freely; and then at the end, when everyone hadspoken, objections might be made, even by the atheists. We chose thegeneral as president. Now without some such rule and order, anyone mightbe shouted down, even in the loftiest and most profound thought. . . . "

"Go on! Go on! Nobody is going to interrupt you!" cried several voices. 

"Speak, but keep to the point!"

"What is this 'star'?" asked another. 

"I have no idea, " replied General Ivolgin, who presided with muchgravity. 

"I love these arguments, prince, " said Keller, also more than halfintoxicated, moving restlessly in his chair. "Scientific and political. "Then, turning suddenly towards Evgenie Pavlovitch, who was seated nearhim: "Do you know, I simply adore reading the accounts of the debates inthe English parliament. Not that the discussions themselves interestme; I am not a politician, you know; but it delights me to see how theyaddress each other 'the noble lord who agrees with me, ' 'my honourableopponent who astonished Europe with his proposal, ' 'the noble viscountsitting opposite'--all these expressions, all this parliamentarism ofa free people, has an enormous attraction for me. It fascinates me, prince. I have always been an artist in the depths of my soul, I assureyou, Evgenie Pavlovitch. "

"Do you mean to say, " cried Gania, from the other corner, "do you meanto say that railways are accursed inventions, that they are a source ofruin to humanity, a poison poured upon the earth to corrupt the springsof life?"

Gavrila Ardalionovitch was in high spirits that evening, and it seemedto the prince that his gaiety was mingled with triumph. Of course he wasonly joking with Lebedeff, meaning to egg him on, but he grew excitedhimself at the same time. 

"Not the railways, oh dear, no!" replied Lebedeff, with a mixture ofviolent anger and extreme enjoyment. "Considered alone, the railwayswill not pollute the springs of life, but as a whole they are accursed. The whole tendency of our latest centuries, in its scientific andmaterialistic aspect, is most probably accursed. "

"Is it certainly accursed?. . . Or do you only mean it might be? That isan important point, " said Evgenie Pavlovitch. 

"It is accursed, certainly accursed!" replied the clerk, vehemently. 

"Don't go so fast, Lebedeff; you are much milder in the morning, " saidPtitsin, smiling. 

"But, on the other hand, more frank in the evening! In the eveningsincere and frank, " repeated Lebedeff, earnestly. "More candid, moreexact, more honest, more honourable, and. . . Although I may show you myweak side, I challenge you all; you atheists, for instance! How are yougoing to save the world? How find a straight road of progress, you menof science, of industry, of cooperation, of trades unions, and all therest? How are you going to save it, I say? By what? By credit? What iscredit? To what will credit lead you?"

"You are too inquisitive, " remarked Evgenie Pavlovitch. 

"Well, anyone who does not interest himself in questions such as thisis, in my opinion, a mere fashionable dummy. "

"But it will lead at least to solidarity, and balance of interests, "said Ptitsin. 

"You will reach that with nothing to help you but credit? Withoutrecourse to any moral principle, having for your foundation onlyindividual selfishness, and the satisfaction of material desires?Universal peace, and the happiness of mankind as a whole, being theresult! Is it really so that I may understand you, sir?"

"But the universal necessity of living, of drinking, of eating--inshort, the whole scientific conviction that this necessity can only besatisfied by universal co-operation and the solidarity of interests--is, it seems to me, a strong enough idea to serve as a basis, so to speak, and a 'spring of life, ' for humanity in future centuries, " said GavrilaArdalionovitch, now thoroughly roused. 

"The necessity of eating and drinking, that is to say, solely theinstinct of self-preservation. . . "

"Is not that enough? The instinct of self-preservation is the normal lawof humanity. . . "

"Who told you that?" broke in Evgenie Pavlovitch. 

"It is a law, doubtless, but a law neither more nor less normal thanthat of destruction, even self-destruction. Is it possible thatthe whole normal law of humanity is contained in this sentiment ofself-preservation?"

"Ah!" cried Hippolyte, turning towards Evgenie Pavlovitch, and lookingat him with a queer sort of curiosity. 

Then seeing that Radomski was laughing, he began to laugh himself, nudged Colia, who was sitting beside him, with his elbow, and againasked what time it was. He even pulled Colia's silver watch out of hishand, and looked at it eagerly. Then, as if he had forgotten everything, he stretched himself out on the sofa, put his hands behind his head, andlooked up at the sky. After a minute or two he got up and came backto the table to listen to Lebedeff's outpourings, as the latterpassionately commentated on Evgenie Pavlovitch's paradox. 

"That is an artful and traitorous idea. A smart notion, " vociferatedthe clerk, "thrown out as an apple of discord. But it is just. You are ascoffer, a man of the world, a cavalry officer, and, though not withoutbrains, you do not realize how profound is your thought, nor how true. Yes, the laws of self-preservation and of self-destruction are equallypowerful in this world. The devil will hold his empire over humanityuntil a limit of time which is still unknown. You laugh? You do notbelieve in the devil? Scepticism as to the devil is a French idea, andit is also a frivolous idea. Do you know who the devil is? Do you knowhis name? Although you don't know his name you make a mockery of hisform, following the example of Voltaire. You sneer at his hoofs, athis tail, at his horns--all of them the produce of your imagination! Inreality the devil is a great and terrible spirit, with neitherhoofs, nor tail, nor horns; it is you who have endowed him with theseattributes! But. . . He is not the question just now!"

"How do you know he is not the question now?" cried Hippolyte, laughinghysterically. 

"Another excellent idea, and worth considering!" replied Lebedeff. "But, again, that is not the question. The question at this moment is whetherwe have not weakened 'the springs of life' by the extension. . . "

"Of railways?" put in Colia eagerly. 

"Not railways, properly speaking, presumptuous youth, but the generaltendency of which railways may be considered as the outward expressionand symbol. We hurry and push and hustle, for the good of humanity!'The world is becoming too noisy, too commercial!' groans some solitarythinker. 'Undoubtedly it is, but the noise of waggons bearing bread tostarving humanity is of more value than tranquillity of soul, ' repliesanother triumphantly, and passes on with an air of pride. As for me, Idon't believe in these waggons bringing bread to humanity. For, foundedon no moral principle, these may well, even in the act of carrying breadto humanity, coldly exclude a considerable portion of humanity fromenjoying it; that has been seen more than once. 

"What, these waggons may coldly exclude?" repeated someone. 

"That has been seen already, " continued Lebedeff, not deigning tonotice the interruption. "Malthus was a friend of humanity, but, withill-founded moral principles, the friend of humanity is the devourer ofhumanity, without mentioning his pride; for, touch the vanity of one ofthese numberless philanthropists, and to avenge his self-esteem, he willbe ready at once to set fire to the whole globe; and to tell the truth, we are all more or less like that. I, perhaps, might be the first to seta light to the fuel, and then run away. But, again, I must repeat, thatis not the question. "

"What is it then, for goodness' sake?"

"He is boring us!"

"The question is connected with the following anecdote of past times;for I am obliged to relate a story. In our times, and in our country, which I hope you love as much as I do, for as far as I am concerned, Iam ready to shed the last drop of my blood. . . 

"Go on! Go on!"

"In our dear country, as indeed in the whole of Europe, a famine visitshumanity about four times a century, as far as I can remember; once inevery twenty-five years. I won't swear to this being the exact figure, but anyhow they have become comparatively rare. "

"Comparatively to what?"

"To the twelfth century, and those immediately preceding and followingit. We are told by historians that widespread famines occurred in thosedays every two or three years, and such was the condition of things thatmen actually had recourse to cannibalism, in secret, of course. One ofthese cannibals, who had reached a good age, declared of his own freewill that during the course of his long and miserable life he hadpersonally killed and eaten, in the most profound secrecy, sixty monks, not to mention several children; the number of the latter he thought wasabout six, an insignificant total when compared with the enormous massof ecclesiastics consumed by him. As to adults, laymen that is to say, he had never touched them. "

The president joined in the general outcry. 

"That's impossible!" said he in an aggrieved tone. "I am oftendiscussing subjects of this nature with him, gentlemen, but for themost part he talks nonsense enough to make one deaf: this story has nopretence of being true. "

"General, remember the siege of Kars! And you, gentlemen, I assure youmy anecdote is the naked truth. I may remark that reality, although itis governed by invariable law, has at times a resemblance to falsehood. In fact, the truer a thing is the less true it sounds. "

"But could anyone possibly eat sixty monks?" objected the scoffinglisteners. 

"It is quite clear that he did not eat them all at once, but in aspace of fifteen or twenty years: from that point of view the thing iscomprehensible and natural. . . "

"Natural?"

"And natural, " repeated Lebedeff with pedantic obstinacy. "Besides, aCatholic monk is by nature excessively curious; it would be quite easytherefore to entice him into a wood, or some secret place, on falsepretences, and there to deal with him as said. But I do not dispute inthe least that the number of persons consumed appears to denote a spiceof greediness. "

"It is perhaps true, gentlemen, " said the prince, quietly. He hadbeen listening in silence up to that moment without taking part in theconversation, but laughing heartily with the others from time to time. Evidently he was delighted to see that everybody was amused, thateverybody was talking at once, and even that everybody was drinking. It seemed as if he were not intending to speak at all, when suddenlyhe intervened in such a serious voice that everyone looked at him withinterest. 

"It is true that there were frequent famines at that time, gentlemen. I have often heard of them, though I do not know much history. But itseems to me that it must have been so. When I was in Switzerland I usedto look with astonishment at the many ruins of feudal castles perchedon the top of steep and rocky heights, half a mile at least abovesea-level, so that to reach them one had to climb many miles of stonytracks. A castle, as you know, is, a kind of mountain of stones--adreadful, almost an impossible, labour! Doubtless the builders wereall poor men, vassals, and had to pay heavy taxes, and to keep up thepriesthood. How, then, could they provide for themselves, and whenhad they time to plough and sow their fields? The greater number must, literally, have died of starvation. I have sometimes asked myself howit was that these communities were not utterly swept off the face of theearth, and how they could possibly survive. Lebedeff is not mistaken, in my opinion, when he says that there were cannibals in those days, perhaps in considerable numbers; but I do not understand why he shouldhave dragged in the monks, nor what he means by that. "

"It is undoubtedly because, in the twelfth century, monks were the onlypeople one could eat; they were the fat, among many lean, " said GavrilaArdalionovitch. 

"A brilliant idea, and most true!" cried Lebedeff, "for he nevereven touched the laity. Sixty monks, and not a single layman! It is aterrible idea, but it is historic, it is statistic; it is indeed one ofthose facts which enables an intelligent historian to reconstruct thephysiognomy of a special epoch, for it brings out this further pointwith mathematical accuracy, that the clergy were in those days sixtytimes richer and more flourishing than the rest of humanity and perhapssixty times fatter also. . . "

"You are exaggerating, you are exaggerating, Lebedeff!" cried hishearers, amid laughter. 

"I admit that it is an historic thought, but what is your conclusion?"asked the prince. 

He spoke so seriously in addressing Lebedeff, that his tone contrastedquite comically with that of the others. They were very nearly laughingat him, too, but he did not notice it. 

"Don't you see he is a lunatic, prince?" whispered Evgenie Pavlovitchin his ear. "Someone told me just now that he is a bit touched on thesubject of lawyers, that he has a mania for making speeches and intendsto pass the examinations. I am expecting a splendid burlesque now. "

"My conclusion is vast, " replied Lebedeff, in a voice like thunder. "Letus examine first the psychological and legal position of the criminal. We see that in spite of the difficulty of finding other food, theaccused, or, as we may say, my client, has often during his peculiarlife exhibited signs of repentance, and of wishing to give up thisclerical diet. Incontrovertible facts prove this assertion. He has eatenfive or six children, a relatively insignificant number, no doubt, but remarkable enough from another point of view. It is manifest that, pricked by remorse--for my client is religious, in his way, and has aconscience, as I shall prove later--and desiring to extenuate his sinas far as possible, he has tried six times at least to substitute laynourishment for clerical. That this was merely an experiment we canhardly doubt: for if it had been only a question of gastronomic variety, six would have been too few; why only six? Why not thirty? But if weregard it as an experiment, inspired by the fear of committing newsacrilege, then this number six becomes intelligible. Six attemptsto calm his remorse, and the pricking of his conscience, would amplysuffice, for these attempts could scarcely have been happy ones. Inmy humble opinion, a child is too small; I should say, not sufficient;which would result in four or five times more lay children than monksbeing required in a given time. The sin, lessened on the one hand, wouldtherefore be increased on the other, in quantity, not in quality. Pleaseunderstand, gentlemen, that in reasoning thus, I am taking the point ofview which might have been taken by a criminal of the middle ages. Asfor myself, a man of the late nineteenth century, I, of course, shouldreason differently; I say so plainly, and therefore you need not jeerat me nor mock me, gentlemen. As for you, general, it is still moreunbecoming on your part. In the second place, and giving my own personalopinion, a child's flesh is not a satisfying diet; it is too insipid, too sweet; and the criminal, in making these experiments, could havesatisfied neither his conscience nor his appetite. I am about toconclude, gentlemen; and my conclusion contains a reply to one of themost important questions of that day and of our own! This criminal endedat last by denouncing himself to the clergy, and giving himself up tojustice. We cannot but ask, remembering the penal system of that day, and the tortures that awaited him--the wheel, the stake, the fire!--wecannot but ask, I repeat, what induced him to accuse himself of thiscrime? Why did he not simply stop short at the number sixty, and keephis secret until his last breath? Why could he not simply leave themonks alone, and go into the desert to repent? Or why not become amonk himself? That is where the puzzle comes in! There must have beensomething stronger than the stake or the fire, or even than the habitsof twenty years! There must have been an idea more powerful than allthe calamities and sorrows of this world, famine or torture, leprosy orplague--an idea which entered into the heart, directed and enlarged thesprings of life, and made even that hell supportable to humanity!Show me a force, a power like that, in this our century of vicesand railways! I might say, perhaps, in our century of steamboats andrailways, but I repeat in our century of vices and railways, because Iam drunk but truthful! Show me a single idea which unites men nowadayswith half the strength that it had in those centuries, and dare tomaintain that the 'springs of life' have not been polluted and weakenedbeneath this 'star, ' beneath this network in which men are entangled!Don't talk to me about your prosperity, your riches, the rarity offamine, the rapidity of the means of transport! There is more of riches, but less of force. The idea uniting heart and soul to heart and soulexists no more. All is loose, soft, limp--we are all of us limp. . . . Enough, gentlemen! I have done. That is not the question. No, thequestion is now, excellency, I believe, to sit down to the banquet youare about to provide for us!"

Lebedeff had roused great indignation in some of his auditors (itshould be remarked that the bottles were constantly uncorked during hisspeech); but this unexpected conclusion calmed even the most turbulentspirits. "That's how a clever barrister makes a good point!" said he, when speaking of his peroration later on. The visitors began to laughand chatter once again; the committee left their seats, and stretchedtheir legs on the terrace. Keller alone was still disgusted withLebedeff and his speech; he turned from one to another, saying in a loudvoice:

"He attacks education, he boasts of the fanaticism of the twelfthcentury, he makes absurd grimaces, and added to that he is by no meansthe innocent he makes himself out to be. How did he get the money to buythis house, allow me to ask?"

In another corner was the general, holding forth to a group of hearers, among them Ptitsin, whom he had buttonholed. "I have known, " said he, "a real interpreter of the Apocalypse, the late Gregory SemeonovitchBurmistroff, and he--he pierced the heart like a fiery flash! He beganby putting on his spectacles, then he opened a large black book;his white beard, and his two medals on his breast, recalling acts ofcharity, all added to his impressiveness. He began in a stern voice, andbefore him generals, hard men of the world, bowed down, and ladiesfell to the ground fainting. But this one here--he ends by announcing abanquet! That is not the real thing!"

Ptitsin listened and smiled, then turned as if to get his hat; but if hehad intended to leave, he changed his mind. Before the others had risenfrom the table, Gania had suddenly left off drinking, and pushed awayhis glass, a dark shadow seemed to come over his face. When they allrose, he went and sat down by Rogojin. It might have been believed thatquite friendly relations existed between them. Rogojin, who had alsoseemed on the point of going away now sat motionless, his head bent, seeming to have forgotten his intention. He had drunk no wine, andappeared absorbed in reflection. From time to time he raised his eyes, and examined everyone present; one might have imagined that he wasexpecting something very important to himself, and that he had decidedto wait for it. The prince had taken two or three glasses of champagne, and seemed cheerful. As he rose he noticed Evgenie Pavlovitch, and, remembering the appointment he had made with him, smiled pleasantly. Evgenie Pavlovitch made a sign with his head towards Hippolyte, whom hewas attentively watching. The invalid was fast asleep, stretched out onthe sofa. 

"Tell me, prince, why on earth did this boy intrude himself upon you?"he asked, with such annoyance and irritation in his voice that theprince was quite surprised. "I wouldn't mind laying odds that he is upto some mischief. "

"I have observed, " said the prince, "that he seems to be an object ofvery singular interest to you, Evgenie Pavlovitch. Why is it?"

"You may add that I have surely enough to think of, on my own account, without him; and therefore it is all the more surprising that I cannottear my eyes and thoughts away from his detestable physiognomy. "

"Oh, come! He has a handsome face. "

"Why, look at him--look at him now!"

The prince glanced again at Evgenie Pavlovitch with considerablesurprise. 

V. 

HIPPOLYTE, who had fallen asleep during Lebedeff's discourse, nowsuddenly woke up, just as though someone had jogged him in the side. Heshuddered, raised himself on his arm, gazed around, and grew very pale. A look almost of terror crossed his face as he recollected. 

"What! are they all off? Is it all over? Is the sun up?" He trembled, and caught at the prince's hand. "What time is it? Tell me, quick, forgoodness' sake! How long have I slept?" he added, almost in despair, just as though he had overslept something upon which his whole fatedepended. 

"You have slept seven or perhaps eight minutes, " said EvgeniePavlovitch. 

Hippolyte gazed eagerly at the latter, and mused for a few moments. 

"Oh, is that all?" he said at last. "Then I--"

He drew a long, deep breath of relief, as it seemed. He realized thatall was not over as yet, that the sun had not risen, and that the guestshad merely gone to supper. He smiled, and two hectic spots appeared onhis cheeks. 

"So you counted the minutes while I slept, did you, Evgenie Pavlovitch?"he said, ironically. "You have not taken your eyes off me all theevening--I have noticed that much, you see! Ah, Rogojin! I've justbeen dreaming about him, prince, " he added, frowning. "Yes, by the by, "starting up, "where's the orator? Where's Lebedeff? Has he finished?What did he talk about? Is it true, prince, that you once declared that'beauty would save the world'? Great Heaven! The prince says that beautysaves the world! And I declare that he only has such playful ideasbecause he's in love! Gentlemen, the prince is in love. I guessed it themoment he came in. Don't blush, prince; you make me sorry for you. Whatbeauty saves the world? Colia told me that you are a zealous Christian;is it so? Colia says you call yourself a Christian. "

The prince regarded him attentively, but said nothing. 

"You don't answer me; perhaps you think I am very fond of you?" addedHippolyte, as though the words had been drawn from him. 

"No, I don't think that. I know you don't love me. "

"What, after yesterday? Wasn't I honest with you?"

"I knew yesterday that you didn't love me. "

"Why so? why so? Because I envy you, eh? You always think that, I know. But do you know why I am saying all this? Look here! I must have somemore champagne--pour me out some, Keller, will you?"

"No, you're not to drink any more, Hippolyte. I won't let you. " Theprince moved the glass away. 

"Well perhaps you're right, " said Hippolyte, musing. "They mightsay--yet, devil take them! what does it matter?--prince, what can itmatter what people will say of us THEN, eh? I believe I'm half asleep. I've had such a dreadful dream--I've only just remembered it. Prince, Idon't wish you such dreams as that, though sure enough, perhaps, I DON'Tlove you. Why wish a man evil, though you do not love him, eh? Giveme your hand--let me press it sincerely. There--you've given me yourhand--you must feel that I DO press it sincerely, don't you? I don'tthink I shall drink any more. What time is it? Never mind, I know thetime. The time has come, at all events. What! they are laying supperover there, are they? Then this table is free? Capital, gentlemen!I--hem! these gentlemen are not listening. Prince, I will just read overan article I have here. Supper is more interesting, of course, but--"

Here Hippolyte suddenly, and most unexpectedly, pulled out of hisbreast-pocket a large sealed paper. This imposing-looking document heplaced upon the table before him. 

The effect of this sudden action upon the company was instantaneous. Evgenie Pavlovitch almost bounded off his chair in excitement. Rogojindrew nearer to the table with a look on his face as if he knew what wascoming. Gania came nearer too; so did Lebedeff and the others--the paperseemed to be an object of great interest to the company in general. 

"What have you got there?" asked the prince, with some anxiety. 

"At the first glimpse of the rising sun, prince, I will go to bed. Itold you I would, word of honour! You shall see!" cried Hippolyte. "You think I'm not capable of opening this packet, do you?" He glareddefiantly round at the audience in general. 

The prince observed that he was trembling all over. 

"None of us ever thought such a thing!" Muishkin replied for all. "Whyshould you suppose it of us? And what are you going to read, Hippolyte?What is it?"

"Yes, what is it?" asked others. The packet sealed with red wax seemedto attract everyone, as though it were a magnet. 

"I wrote this yesterday, myself, just after I saw you, prince, and toldyou I would come down here. I wrote all day and all night, and finishedit this morning early. Afterwards I had a dream. "

"Hadn't we better hear it tomorrow?" asked the prince timidly. 

"Tomorrow 'there will be no more time!'" laughed Hippolyte, hysterically. "You needn't be afraid; I shall get through the wholething in forty minutes, at most an hour! Look how interested everybodyis! Everybody has drawn near. Look! look at them all staring at mysealed packet! If I hadn't sealed it up it wouldn't have been half soeffective! Ha, ha! that's mystery, that is! Now then, gentlemen, shallI break the seal or not? Say the word; it's a mystery, I tell you--asecret! Prince, you know who said there would be 'no more time'? It wasthe great and powerful angel in the Apocalypse. "

"Better not read it now, " said the prince, putting his hand on thepacket. 

"No, don't read it!" cried Evgenie suddenly. He appeared so strangelydisturbed that many of those present could not help wondering. 

"Reading? None of your reading now!" said somebody; "it's supper-time. ""What sort of an article is it? For a paper? Probably it's verydull, " said another. But the prince's timid gesture had impressed evenHippolyte. 

"Then I'm not to read it?" he whispered, nervously. "Am I not to readit?" he repeated, gazing around at each face in turn. "What are youafraid of, prince?" he turned and asked the latter suddenly. 

"What should I be afraid of?"

"Has anyone a coin about them? Give me a twenty-copeck piece, somebody!"And Hippolyte leapt from his chair. 

"Here you are, " said Lebedeff, handing him one; he thought the boy hadgone mad. 

"Vera Lukianovna, " said Hippolyte, "toss it, will you? Heads, I read, tails, I don't. "

Vera Lebedeff tossed the coin into the air and let it fall on the table. 

It was "heads. "

"Then I read it, " said Hippolyte, in the tone of one bowing to the fiatof destiny. He could not have grown paler if a verdict of death hadsuddenly been presented to him. 

"But after all, what is it? Is it possible that I should have justrisked my fate by tossing up?" he went on, shuddering; and looked roundhim again. His eyes had a curious expression of sincerity. "That isan astonishing psychological fact, " he cried, suddenly addressingthe prince, in a tone of the most intense surprise. "It is. . . Itis something quite inconceivable, prince, " he repeated with growinganimation, like a man regaining consciousness. "Take note of it, prince, remember it; you collect, I am told, facts concerning capitalpunishment. . . They told me so. Ha, ha! My God, how absurd!" He satdown on the sofa, put his elbows on the table, and laid his head onhis hands. "It is shameful--though what does it matter to me if it isshameful?

"Gentlemen, gentlemen! I am about to break the seal, " he continued, withdetermination. "I-I--of course I don't insist upon anyone listening ifthey do not wish to. "

With trembling fingers he broke the seal and drew out several sheets ofpaper, smoothed them out before him, and began sorting them. 

"What on earth does all this mean? What's he going to read?" mutteredseveral voices. Others said nothing; but one and all sat down andwatched with curiosity. They began to think something strange mightreally be about to happen. Vera stood and trembled behind her father'schair, almost in tears with fright; Colia was nearly as much alarmedas she was. Lebedeff jumped up and put a couple of candles nearer toHippolyte, so that he might see better. 

"Gentlemen, this--you'll soon see what this is, " began Hippolyte, andsuddenly commenced his reading. 

"It's headed, 'A Necessary Explanation, ' with the motto, 'Apres moile deluge!' Oh, deuce take it all! Surely I can never have seriouslywritten such a silly motto as that? Look here, gentlemen, I beg to givenotice that all this is very likely terrible nonsense. It is only a fewideas of mine. If you think that there is anything mysterious coming--orin a word--"

"Better read on without any more beating about the bush, " said Gania. 

"Affectation!" remarked someone else. 

"Too much talk, " said Rogojin, breaking the silence for the first time. 

Hippolyte glanced at him suddenly, and when their eye, met Rogojinshowed his teeth in a disagreeable smile, and said the following strangewords: "That's not the way to settle this business, my friend; that'snot the way at all. "

Of course nobody knew what Rogojin meant by this; but his words madea deep impression upon all. Everyone seemed to see in a flash the sameidea. 

As for Hippolyte, their effect upon him was astounding. He trembled sothat the prince was obliged to support him, and would certainly havecried out, but that his voice seemed to have entirely left him for themoment. For a minute or two he could not speak at all, but panted andstared at Rogojin. At last he managed to ejaculate:

"Then it was YOU who came--YOU--YOU?"

"Came where? What do you mean?" asked Rogojin, amazed. But Hippolyte, panting and choking with excitement, interrupted him violently. 

"YOU came to me last week, in the night, at two o'clock, the day I waswith you in the morning! Confess it was you!"

"Last week? In the night? Have you gone cracked, my good friend?"

Hippolyte paused and considered a moment. Then a smile ofcunning--almost triumph--crossed his lips. 

"It was you, " he murmured, almost in a whisper, but with absoluteconviction. "Yes, it was you who came to my room and sat silently on achair at my window for a whole hour--more! It was between one and twoat night; you rose and went out at about three. It was you, you! Why youshould have frightened me so, why you should have wished to torment melike that, I cannot tell--but you it was. "

There was absolute hatred in his eyes as he said this, but his look offear and his trembling had not left him. 

"You shall hear all this directly, gentlemen. I-I--listen!"

He seized his paper in a desperate hurry; he fidgeted with it, and triedto sort it, but for a long while his trembling hands could not collectthe sheets together. "He's either mad or delirious, " murmured Rogojin. At last he began. 

For the first five minutes the reader's voice continued to tremble, and he read disconnectedly and unevenly; but gradually his voicestrengthened. Occasionally a violent fit of coughing stopped him, buthis animation grew with the progress of the reading--as did also thedisagreeable impression which it made upon his audience, --until itreached the highest pitch of excitement. 

Here is the article. 

MY NECESSARY EXPLANATION. 

"Apres moi le deluge. 

"Yesterday morning the prince came to see me. Among other things heasked me to come down to his villa. I knew he would come and persuademe to this step, and that he would adduce the argument that it would beeasier for me to die' among people and green trees, '--as he expressedit. But today he did not say 'die, ' he said 'live. ' It is pretty muchthe same to me, in my position, which he says. When I asked him why hemade such a point of his 'green trees, ' he told me, to my astonishment, that he had heard that last time I was in Pavlofsk I had said that I hadcome 'to have a last look at the trees. '

"When I observed that it was all the same whether one died among treesor in front of a blank brick wall, as here, and that it was not worthmaking any fuss over a fortnight, he agreed at once. But he insistedthat the good air at Pavlofsk and the greenness would certainly cause aphysical change for the better, and that my excitement, and my DREAMS, would be perhaps relieved. I remarked to him, with a smile, that hespoke like a materialist, and he answered that he had always been one. As he never tells a lie, there must be something in his words. His smileis a pleasant one. I have had a good look at him. I don't know whetherI like him or not; and I have no time to waste over the question. Thehatred which I felt for him for five months has become considerablymodified, I may say, during the last month. Who knows, perhaps I amgoing to Pavlofsk on purpose to see him! But why do I leave my chamber?Those who are sentenced to death should not leave their cells. If Ihad not formed a final resolve, but had decided to wait until the lastminute, I should not leave my room, or accept his invitation to comeand die at Pavlofsk. I must be quick and finish this explanation beforetomorrow. I shall have no time to read it over and correct it, for Imust read it tomorrow to the prince and two or three witnesses whom Ishall probably find there. 

"As it will be absolutely true, without a touch of falsehood, I amcurious to see what impression it will make upon me myself at the momentwhen I read it out. This is my 'last and solemn'--but why need I callit that? There is no question about the truth of it, for it is notworthwhile lying for a fortnight; a fortnight of life is not itselfworth having, which is a proof that I write nothing here but pure truth. 

("N. B. --Let me remember to consider; am I mad at this moment, or not? orrather at these moments? I have been told that consumptives sometimesdo go out of their minds for a while in the last stages of the malady. I can prove this tomorrow when I read it out, by the impression itmakes upon the audience. I must settle this question once and for all, otherwise I can't go on with anything. )

"I believe I have just written dreadful nonsense; but there's no timefor correcting, as I said before. Besides that, I have made myself apromise not to alter a single word of what I write in this paper, eventhough I find that I am contradicting myself every five lines. I wish toverify the working of the natural logic of my ideas tomorrow during thereading--whether I am capable of detecting logical errors, and whetherall that I have meditated over during the last six months be true, ornothing but delirium. 

"If two months since I had been called upon to leave my room and theview of Meyer's wall opposite, I verily believe I should have beensorry. But now I have no such feeling, and yet I am leaving this roomand Meyer's brick wall FOR EVER. So that my conclusion, that it is notworth while indulging in grief, or any other emotion, for a fortnight, has proved stronger than my very nature, and has taken over thedirection of my feelings. But is it so? Is it the case that my natureis conquered entirely? If I were to be put on the rack now, I shouldcertainly cry out. I should not say that it is not worth while to yelland feel pain because I have but a fortnight to live. 

"But is it true that I have but a fortnight of life left to me? I know Itold some of my friends that Doctor B. Had informed me that this was thecase; but I now confess that I lied; B. Has not even seen me. However, a week ago, I called in a medical student, Kislorodoff, who is aNationalist, an Atheist, and a Nihilist, by conviction, and that is whyI had him. I needed a man who would tell me the bare truth without anyhumbug or ceremony--and so he did--indeed, almost with pleasure (which Ithought was going a little too far). 

"Well, he plumped out that I had about a month left me; it might be alittle more, he said, under favourable circumstances, but it mightalso be considerably less. According to his opinion I might die quitesuddenly--tomorrow, for instance--there had been such cases. Only a dayor two since a young lady at Colomna who suffered from consumption, andwas about on a par with myself in the march of the disease, was goingout to market to buy provisions, when she suddenly felt faint, lay downon the sofa, gasped once, and died. 

"Kislorodoff told me all this with a sort of exaggerated devil-may-carenegligence, and as though he did me great honour by talking to meso, because it showed that he considered me the same sort of exaltedNihilistic being as himself, to whom death was a matter of noconsequence whatever, either way. 

"At all events, the fact remained--a month of life and no more! That heis right in his estimation I am absolutely persuaded. 

"It puzzles me much to think how on earth the prince guessed yesterdaythat I have had bad dreams. He said to me, 'Your excitement and dreamswill find relief at Pavlofsk. ' Why did he say 'dreams'? Either he is adoctor, or else he is a man of exceptional intelligence and wonderfulpowers of observation. (But that he is an 'idiot, ' at bottom there canbe no doubt whatever. ) It so happened that just before he arrived I hada delightful little dream; one of a kind that I have hundreds of justnow. I had fallen asleep about an hour before he came in, and dreamedthat I was in some room, not my own. It was a large room, wellfurnished, with a cupboard, chest of drawers, sofa, and my bed, a finewide bed covered with a silken counterpane. But I observed in the rooma dreadful-looking creature, a sort of monster. It was a little like ascorpion, but was not a scorpion, but far more horrible, and especiallyso, because there are no creatures anything like it in nature, andbecause it had appeared to me for a purpose, and bore some mysterioussignification. I looked at the beast well; it was brown in colour andhad a shell; it was a crawling kind of reptile, about eight inches long, and narrowed down from the head, which was about a couple of fingers inwidth, to the end of the tail, which came to a fine point. Out of itstrunk, about a couple of inches below its head, came two legs at anangle of forty-five degrees, each about three inches long, so that thebeast looked like a trident from above. It had eight hard needle-likewhiskers coming out from different parts of its body; it went along likea snake, bending its body about in spite of the shell it wore, and itsmotion was very quick and very horrible to look at. I was dreadfullyafraid it would sting me; somebody had told me, I thought, that itwas venomous; but what tormented me most of all was the wondering andwondering as to who had sent it into my room, and what was the mysterywhich I felt it contained. 

"It hid itself under the cupboard and under the chest of drawers, andcrawled into the corners. I sat on a chair and kept my legs tuckedunder me. Then the beast crawled quietly across the room and disappearedsomewhere near my chair. I looked about for it in terror, but I stillhoped that as my feet were safely tucked away it would not be able totouch me. 

"Suddenly I heard behind me, and about on a level with my head, a sortof rattling sound. I turned sharp round and saw that the brute hadcrawled up the wall as high as the level of my face, and that itshorrible tail, which was moving incredibly fast from side to side, wasactually touching my hair! I jumped up--and it disappeared. I did notdare lie down on my bed for fear it should creep under my pillow. Mymother came into the room, and some friends of hers. They began to huntfor the reptile and were more composed than I was; they did not seem tobe afraid of it. But they did not understand as I did. 

"Suddenly the monster reappeared; it crawled slowly across the room andmade for the door, as though with some fixed intention, and with a slowmovement that was more horrible than ever. 

"Then my mother opened the door and called my dog, Norma. Norma was agreat Newfoundland, and died five years ago. 

"She sprang forward and stood still in front of the reptile as if shehad been turned to stone. The beast stopped too, but its tail andclaws still moved about. I believe animals are incapable of feelingsupernatural fright--if I have been rightly informed, --but at thismoment there appeared to me to be something more than ordinary aboutNorma's terror, as though it must be supernatural; and as though shefelt, just as I did myself, that this reptile was connected with somemysterious secret, some fatal omen. 

"Norma backed slowly and carefully away from the brute, which followedher, creeping deliberately after her as though it intended to make asudden dart and sting her. 

"In spite of Norma's terror she looked furious, though she trembled inall her limbs. At length she slowly bared her terrible teeth, openedher great red jaws, hesitated--took courage, and seized the beast in hermouth. It seemed to try to dart out of her jaws twice, but Norma caughtat it and half swallowed it as it was escaping. The shell cracked in herteeth; and the tail and legs stuck out of her mouth and shook about ina horrible manner. Suddenly Norma gave a piteous whine; the reptile hadbitten her tongue. She opened her mouth wide with the pain, and I sawthe beast lying across her tongue, and out of its body, which was almostbitten in two, came a hideous white-looking substance, oozing out intoNorma's mouth; it was of the consistency of a crushed black-beetle justthen I awoke and the prince entered the room. "

"Gentlemen!" said Hippolyte, breaking off here, "I have not done yet, but it seems to me that I have written down a great deal here that isunnecessary, --this dream--"

"You have indeed!" said Gania. 

"There is too much about myself, I know, but--" As Hippolyte said thishis face wore a tired, pained look, and he wiped the sweat off his brow. 

"Yes, " said Lebedeff, "you certainly think a great deal too much aboutyourself. "

"Well--gentlemen--I do not force anyone to listen! If any of you areunwilling to sit it out, please go away, by all means!"

"He turns people out of a house that isn't his own, " muttered Rogojin. 

"Suppose we all go away?" said Ferdishenko suddenly. 

Hippolyte clutched his manuscript, and gazing at the last speaker withglittering eyes, said: "You don't like me at all!" A few laughed atthis, but not all. 

"Hippolyte, " said the prince, "give me the papers, and go to bed like asensible fellow. We'll have a good talk tomorrow, but you really mustn'tgo on with this reading; it is not good for you!"

"How can I? How can I?" cried Hippolyte, looking at him in amazement. "Gentlemen! I was a fool! I won't break off again. Listen, everyone whowants to!"

He gulped down some water out of a glass standing near, bent over thetable, in order to hide his face from the audience, and recommenced. 

"The idea that it is not worth while living for a few weeks tookpossession of me a month ago, when I was told that I had four weeks tolive, but only partially so at that time. The idea quite overmastered methree days since, that evening at Pavlofsk. The first time that I feltreally impressed with this thought was on the terrace at the prince's, at the very moment when I had taken it into my head to make a last trialof life. I wanted to see people and trees (I believe I said so myself), I got excited, I maintained Burdovsky's rights, 'my neighbour!'--Idreamt that one and all would open their arms, and embrace me, thatthere would be an indescribable exchange of forgiveness between us all!In a word, I behaved like a fool, and then, at that very same instant, Ifelt my 'last conviction. ' I ask myself now how I could have waited sixmonths for that conviction! I knew that I had a disease that sparesno one, and I really had no illusions; but the more I realized mycondition, the more I clung to life; I wanted to live at any price. Iconfess I might well have resented that blind, deaf fate, which, with noapparent reason, seemed to have decided to crush me like a fly; but whydid I not stop at resentment? Why did I begin to live, knowing that itwas not worthwhile to begin? Why did I attempt to do what I knew to bean impossibility? And yet I could not even read a book to the end; Ihad given up reading. What is the good of reading, what is the good oflearning anything, for just six months? That thought has made me throwaside a book more than once. 

"Yes, that wall of Meyer's could tell a tale if it liked. There was nospot on its dirty surface that I did not know by heart. Accursed wall!and yet it is dearer to me than all the Pavlofsk trees!--That is--itWOULD be dearer if it were not all the same to me, now!

"I remember now with what hungry interest I began to watch the lives ofother people--interest that I had never felt before! I used to wait forColia's arrival impatiently, for I was so ill myself, then, that I couldnot leave the house. I so threw myself into every little detail of news, and took so much interest in every report and rumour, that I believe Ibecame a regular gossip! I could not understand, among other things, howall these people--with so much life in and before them--do not becomeRICH--and I don't understand it now. I remember being told of a poorwretch I once knew, who had died of hunger. I was almost beside myselfwith rage! I believe if I could have resuscitated him I would have doneso for the sole purpose of murdering him!

"Occasionally I was so much better that I could go out; but the streetsused to put me in such a rage that I would lock myself up for daysrather than go out, even if I were well enough to do so! I couldnot bear to see all those preoccupied, anxious-looking creaturescontinuously surging along the streets past me! Why are they alwaysanxious? What is the meaning of their eternal care and worry? It istheir wickedness, their perpetual detestable malice--that's what itis--they are all full of malice, malice!

"Whose fault is it that they are all miserable, that they don't know howto live, though they have fifty or sixty years of life before them? Whydid that fool allow himself to die of hunger with sixty years of unlivedlife before him?

"And everyone of them shows his rags, his toil-worn hands, and yells inhis wrath: 'Here are we, working like cattle all our lives, and alwaysas hungry as dogs, and there are others who do not work, and are fat andrich!' The eternal refrain! And side by side with them trots along somewretched fellow who has known better days, doing light porter's workfrom morn to night for a living, always blubbering and saying that'his wife died because he had no money to buy medicine with, ' and hischildren dying of cold and hunger, and his eldest daughter gone to thebad, and so on. Oh! I have no pity and no patience for these fools ofpeople. Why can't they be Rothschilds? Whose fault is it that a man hasnot got millions of money like Rothschild? If he has life, all this mustbe in his power! Whose fault is it that he does not know how to live hislife?

"Oh! it's all the same to me now--NOW! But at that time I would soak mypillow at night with tears of mortification, and tear at my blanket inmy rage and fury. Oh, how I longed at that time to be turned out--ME, eighteen years old, poor, half-clothed, turned out into the street, quite alone, without lodging, without work, without a crust of bread, without relations, without a single acquaintance, in some largetown--hungry, beaten (if you like), but in good health--and THEN I wouldshow them--

"What would I show them?

"Oh, don't think that I have no sense of my own humiliation! I havesuffered already in reading so far. Which of you all does not think me afool at this moment--a young fool who knows nothing of life--forgettingthat to live as I have lived these last six months is to live longerthan grey-haired old men. Well, let them laugh, and say it is allnonsense, if they please. They may say it is all fairy-tales, if theylike; and I have spent whole nights telling myself fairy-tales. Iremember them all. But how can I tell fairy-tales now? The time for themis over. They amused me when I found that there was not even time for meto learn the Greek grammar, as I wanted to do. 'I shall die before I getto the syntax, ' I thought at the first page--and threw the book underthe table. It is there still, for I forbade anyone to pick it up. 

"If this 'Explanation' gets into anybody's hands, and they have patienceto read it through, they may consider me a madman, or a schoolboy, or, more likely, a man condemned to die, who thought it only natural toconclude that all men, excepting himself, esteem life far too lightly, live it far too carelessly and lazily, and are, therefore, one and all, unworthy of it. Well, I affirm that my reader is wrong again, for myconvictions have nothing to do with my sentence of death. Ask them, askany one of them, or all of them, what they mean by happiness! Oh, youmay be perfectly sure that if Columbus was happy, it was not after hehad discovered America, but when he was discovering it! You may be quitesure that he reached the culminating point of his happiness three daysbefore he saw the New World with his actual eyes, when his mutinoussailors wanted to tack about, and return to Europe! What did the NewWorld matter after all? Columbus had hardly seen it when he died, andin reality he was entirely ignorant of what he had discovered. Theimportant thing is life--life and nothing else! What is any 'discovery'whatever compared with the incessant, eternal discovery of life?

"But what is the use of talking? I'm afraid all this is so commonplacethat my confession will be taken for a schoolboy exercise--the work ofsome ambitious lad writing in the hope of his work 'seeing the light';or perhaps my readers will say that 'I had perhaps something to say, butdid not know how to express it. '

"Let me add to this that in every idea emanating from genius, or even inevery serious human idea--born in the human brain--there always remainssomething--some sediment--which cannot be expressed to others, thoughone wrote volumes and lectured upon it for five-and-thirty years. Thereis always a something, a remnant, which will never come out from yourbrain, but will remain there with you, and you alone, for ever and ever, and you will die, perhaps, without having imparted what may be the veryessence of your idea to a single living soul. 

"So that if I cannot now impart all that has tormented me for the lastsix months, at all events you will understand that, having reached my'last convictions, ' I must have paid a very dear price for them. Thatis what I wished, for reasons of my own, to make a point of in this my'Explanation. '

"But let me resume. "

VI. 

"I WILL not deceive you. 'Reality' got me so entrapped in its meshes nowand again during the past six months, that I forgot my 'sentence' (orperhaps I did not wish to think of it), and actually busied myself withaffairs. 

"A word as to my circumstances. When, eight months since, I becamevery ill, I threw up all my old connections and dropped all my oldcompanions. As I was always a gloomy, morose sort of individual, myfriends easily forgot me; of course, they would have forgotten me allthe same, without that excuse. My position at home was solitary enough. Five months ago I separated myself entirely from the family, and no onedared enter my room except at stated times, to clean and tidy it, and soon, and to bring me my meals. My mother dared not disobey me; she keptthe children quiet, for my sake, and beat them if they dared to make anynoise and disturb me. I so often complained of them that I should thinkthey must be very fond, indeed, of me by this time. I think I must havetormented 'my faithful Colia' (as I called him) a good deal too. Hetormented me of late; I could see that he always bore my tempers asthough he had determined to 'spare the poor invalid. ' This annoyedme, naturally. He seemed to have taken it into his head to imitate theprince in Christian meekness! Surikoff, who lived above us, annoyed me, too. He was so miserably poor, and I used to prove to him that he had noone to blame but himself for his poverty. I used to be so angry that Ithink I frightened him eventually, for he stopped coming to see me. Hewas a most meek and humble fellow, was Surikoff. (N. B. --They say thatmeekness is a great power. I must ask the prince about this, for theexpression is his. ) But I remember one day in March, when I went up tohis lodgings to see whether it was true that one of his children hadbeen starved and frozen to death, I began to hold forth to him abouthis poverty being his own fault, and, in the course of my remarks, Iaccidentally smiled at the corpse of his child. Well, the poor wretch'slips began to tremble, and he caught me by the shoulder, and pushed meto the door. 'Go out, ' he said, in a whisper. I went out, of course, andI declare I LIKED it. I liked it at the very moment when I wasturned out. But his words filled me with a strange sort of feeling ofdisdainful pity for him whenever I thought of them--a feeling whichI did not in the least desire to entertain. At the very moment of theinsult (for I admit that I did insult him, though I did not mean to), this man could not lose his temper. His lips had trembled, but I swearit was not with rage. He had taken me by the arm, and said, 'Go out, 'without the least anger. There was dignity, a great deal of dignity, about him, and it was so inconsistent with the look of him that, Iassure you, it was quite comical. But there was no anger. Perhaps hemerely began to despise me at that moment. 

"Since that time he has always taken off his hat to me on the stairs, whenever I met him, which is a thing he never did before; but he alwaysgets away from me as quickly as he can, as though he felt confused. Ifhe did despise me, he despised me 'meekly, ' after his own fashion. 

"I dare say he only took his hat off out of fear, as it were, to the sonof his creditor; for he always owed my mother money. I thought of havingan explanation with him, but I knew that if I did, he would begin toapologize in a minute or two, so I decided to let him alone. 

"Just about that time, that is, the middle of March, I suddenly feltvery much better; this continued for a couple of weeks. I used to goout at dusk. I like the dusk, especially in March, when the night frostbegins to harden the day's puddles, and the gas is burning. 

"Well, one night in the Shestilavochnaya, a man passed me with a paperparcel under his arm. I did not take stock of him very carefully, but heseemed to be dressed in some shabby summer dust-coat, much too light forthe season. When he was opposite the lamp-post, some ten yards away, Iobserved something fall out of his pocket. I hurried forward to pick itup, just in time, for an old wretch in a long kaftan rushed up too. He did not dispute the matter, but glanced at what was in my hand anddisappeared. 

"It was a large old-fashioned pocket-book, stuffed full; but I guessed, at a glance, that it had anything in the world inside it, except money. 

"The owner was now some forty yards ahead of me, and was very soon lostin the crowd. I ran after him, and began calling out; but as I knewnothing to say excepting 'hey!' he did not turn round. Suddenly heturned into the gate of a house to the left; and when I darted in afterhim, the gateway was so dark that I could see nothing whatever. It wasone of those large houses built in small tenements, of which there musthave been at least a hundred. 

"When I entered the yard I thought I saw a man going along on the farside of it; but it was so dark I could not make out his figure. 

"I crossed to that corner and found a dirty dark staircase. I heard aman mounting up above me, some way higher than I was, and thinking Ishould catch him before his door would be opened to him, I rushed afterhim. I heard a door open and shut on the fifth storey, as I pantedalong; the stairs were narrow, and the steps innumerable, but at last Ireached the door I thought the right one. Some moments passed before Ifound the bell and got it to ring. 

"An old peasant woman opened the door; she was busy lighting the'samovar' in a tiny kitchen. She listened silently to my questions, didnot understand a word, of course, and opened another door leading intoa little bit of a room, low and scarcely furnished at all, but witha large, wide bed in it, hung with curtains. On this bed lay oneTerentich, as the woman called him, drunk, it appeared to me. On thetable was an end of candle in an iron candlestick, and a half-bottle ofvodka, nearly finished. Terentich muttered something to me, and signedtowards the next room. The old woman had disappeared, so there wasnothing for me to do but to open the door indicated. I did so, andentered the next room. 

"This was still smaller than the other, so cramped that I could scarcelyturn round; a narrow single bed at one side took up nearly all the room. Besides the bed there were only three common chairs, and a wretched oldkitchen-table standing before a small sofa. One could hardly squeezethrough between the table and the bed. 

"On the table, as in the other room, burned a tallow candle-end in aniron candlestick; and on the bed there whined a baby of scarcely threeweeks old. A pale-looking woman was dressing the child, probably themother; she looked as though she had not as yet got over the trouble ofchildbirth, she seemed so weak and was so carelessly dressed. Anotherchild, a little girl of about three years old, lay on the sofa, coveredover with what looked like a man's old dress-coat. 

"At the table stood a man in his shirt sleeves; he had thrown off hiscoat; it lay upon the bed; and he was unfolding a blue paper parcel inwhich were a couple of pounds of bread, and some little sausages. 

"On the table along with these things were a few old bits of blackbread, and some tea in a pot. From under the bed there protruded anopen portmanteau full of bundles of rags. In a word, the confusion anduntidiness of the room were indescribable. 

"It appeared to me, at the first glance, that both the man and the womanwere respectable people, but brought to that pitch of poverty whereuntidiness seems to get the better of every effort to cope with it, tillat last they take a sort of bitter satisfaction in it. When I enteredthe room, the man, who had entered but a moment before me, and was stillunpacking his parcels, was saying something to his wife in an excitedmanner. The news was apparently bad, as usual, for the woman beganwhimpering. The man's face seemed tome to be refined and even pleasant. He was dark-complexioned, and about twenty-eight years of age; he woreblack whiskers, and his lip and chin were shaved. He looked morose, butwith a sort of pride of expression. A curious scene followed. 

"There are people who find satisfaction in their own touchy feelings, especially when they have just taken the deepest offence; at suchmoments they feel that they would rather be offended than not. Theseeasily-ignited natures, if they are wise, are always full of remorseafterwards, when they reflect that they have been ten times as angry asthey need have been. 

"The gentleman before me gazed at me for some seconds in amazement, and his wife in terror; as though there was something alarminglyextraordinary in the fact that anyone could come to see them. Butsuddenly he fell upon me almost with fury; I had had no time to muttermore than a couple of words; but he had doubtless observed that I wasdecently dressed and, therefore, took deep offence because I had daredenter his den so unceremoniously, and spy out the squalor and untidinessof it. 

"Of course he was delighted to get hold of someone upon whom to vent hisrage against things in general. 

"For a moment I thought he would assault me; he grew so pale that helooked like a woman about to have hysterics; his wife was dreadfullyalarmed. 

"'How dare you come in so? Be off!' he shouted, trembling all over withrage and scarcely able to articulate the words. Suddenly, however, heobserved his pocketbook in my hand. 

"'I think you dropped this, ' I remarked, as quietly and drily as Icould. (I thought it best to treat him so. ) For some while he stoodbefore me in downright terror, and seemed unable to understand. He thensuddenly grabbed at his side-pocket, opened his mouth in alarm, and beathis forehead with his hand. 

"'My God!' he cried, 'where did you find it? How?' I explained in as fewwords as I could, and as drily as possible, how I had seen it and pickedit up; how I had run after him, and called out to him, and how I hadfollowed him upstairs and groped my way to his door. 

"'Gracious Heaven!' he cried, 'all our papers are in it! My dearsir, you little know what you have done for us. I should have beenlost--lost!'

"I had taken hold of the door-handle meanwhile, intending to leavethe room without reply; but I was panting with my run upstairs, and myexhaustion came to a climax in a violent fit of coughing, so bad that Icould hardly stand. 

"I saw how the man dashed about the room to find me an empty chair, howhe kicked the rags off a chair which was covered up by them, brought itto me, and helped me to sit down; but my cough went on for another threeminutes or so. When I came to myself he was sitting by me on anotherchair, which he had also cleared of the rubbish by throwing it all overthe floor, and was watching me intently. 

"'I'm afraid you are ill?' he remarked, in the tone which doctors usewhen they address a patient. 'I am myself a medical man' (he did not say'doctor'), with which words he waved his hands towards the room andits contents as though in protest at his present condition. 'I see thatyou--'

"'I'm in consumption, ' I said laconically, rising from my seat. 

"He jumped up, too. 

"'Perhaps you are exaggerating--if you were to take proper measuresperhaps--"

"He was terribly confused and did not seem able to collect his scatteredsenses; the pocket-book was still in his left hand. 

"'Oh, don't mind me, ' I said. 'Dr. B---- saw me last week' (I lugged himin again), 'and my hash is quite settled; pardon me-' I took hold of thedoor-handle again. I was on the point of opening the door and leaving mygrateful but confused medical friend to himself and his shame, when mydamnable cough got hold of me again. 

"My doctor insisted on my sitting down again to get my breath. He nowsaid something to his wife who, without leaving her place, addressed afew words of gratitude and courtesy to me. She seemed very shy over it, and her sickly face flushed up with confusion. I remained, but with theair of a man who knows he is intruding and is anxious to get away. Thedoctor's remorse at last seemed to need a vent, I could see. 

"'If I--' he began, breaking off abruptly every other moment, andstarting another sentence. 'I-I am so very grateful to you, and I am somuch to blame in your eyes, I feel sure, I--you see--' (he pointed tothe room again) 'at this moment I am in such a position-'

"'Oh!' I said, 'there's nothing to see; it's quite a clear case--you'velost your post and have come up to make explanations and get another, ifyou can!'

"'How do you know that?' he asked in amazement. 

"'Oh, it was evident at the first glance, ' I said ironically, butnot intentionally so. 'There are lots of people who come up from theprovinces full of hope, and run about town, and have to live as bestthey can. '

"He began to talk at once excitedly and with trembling lips; he begancomplaining and telling me his story. He interested me, I confess; I satthere nearly an hour. His story was a very ordinary one. He had been aprovincial doctor; he had a civil appointment, and had no sooner takenit up than intrigues began. Even his wife was dragged into these. He wasproud, and flew into a passion; there was a change of local governmentwhich acted in favour of his opponents; his position was undermined, complaints were made against him; he lost his post and came up toPetersburg with his last remaining money, in order to appeal to higherauthorities. Of course nobody would listen to him for a long time; hewould come and tell his story one day and be refused promptly; anotherday he would be fed on false promises; again he would be treatedharshly; then he would be told to sign some documents; then he wouldsign the paper and hand it in, and they would refuse to receive it, andtell him to file a formal petition. In a word he had been driven aboutfrom office to office for five months and had spent every farthing hehad; his wife's last rags had just been pawned; and meanwhile a childhad been born to them and--and today I have a final refusal to mypetition, and I have hardly a crumb of bread left--I have nothing left;my wife has had a baby lately--and I-I--'

"He sprang up from his chair and turned away. His wife was crying in thecorner; the child had begun to moan again. I pulled out my note-book andbegan writing in it. When I had finished and rose from my chair he wasstanding before me with an expression of alarmed curiosity. 

"'I have jotted down your name, ' I told him, 'and all the rest ofit--the place you served at, the district, the date, and all. I have afriend, Bachmatoff, whose uncle is a councillor of state and has to dowith these matters, one Peter Matveyevitch Bachmatoff. '

"'Peter Matveyevitch Bachmatoff!' he cried, trembling all over withexcitement. 'Why, nearly everything depends on that very man!'

"It is very curious, this story of the medical man, and my visit, andthe happy termination to which I contributed by accident! Everythingfitted in, as in a novel. I told the poor people not to put much hope inme, because I was but a poor schoolboy myself--(I am not really, butI humiliated myself as much as possible in order to make them lesshopeful)--but that I would go at once to the Vassili Ostroff and see myfriend; and that as I knew for certain that his uncle adored him, andwas absolutely devoted to him as the last hope and branch of the family, perhaps the old man might do something to oblige his nephew. 

"'If only they would allow me to explain all to his excellency! If Icould but be permitted to tell my tale to him!" he cried, trembling withfeverish agitation, and his eyes flashing with excitement. I repeatedonce more that I could not hold out much hope--that it would probablyend in smoke, and if I did not turn up next morning they must make uptheir minds that there was no more to be done in the matter. 

"They showed me out with bows and every kind of respect; they seemedquite beside themselves. I shall never forget the expression of theirfaces!

"I took a droshky and drove over to the Vassili Ostroff at once. Forsome years I had been at enmity with this young Bachmatoff, at school. We considered him an aristocrat; at all events I called him one. He usedto dress smartly, and always drove to school in a private trap. He wasa good companion, and was always merry and jolly, sometimes even witty, though he was not very intellectual, in spite of the fact that he wasalways top of the class; I myself was never top in anything! All hiscompanions were very fond of him, excepting myself. He had several timesduring those years come up to me and tried to make friends; but I hadalways turned sulkily away and refused to have anything to do with him. I had not seen him for a whole year now; he was at the university. When, at nine o'clock, or so, this evening, I arrived and was shown up to himwith great ceremony, he first received me with astonishment, and not tooaffably, but he soon cheered up, and suddenly gazed intently at me andburst out laughing. 

"'Why, what on earth can have possessed you to come and see ME, Terentieff?' he cried, with his usual pleasant, sometimes audacious, butnever offensive familiarity, which I liked in reality, but for which Ialso detested him. 'Why what's the matter?' he cried in alarm. 'Are youill?'

"That confounded cough of mine had come on again; I fell into a chair, and with difficulty recovered my breath. 'It's all right, it's onlyconsumption' I said. 'I have come to you with a petition!'

"He sat down in amazement, and I lost no time in telling him the medicalman's history; and explained that he, with the influence which hepossessed over his uncle, might do some good to the poor fellow. 

"'I'll do it--I'll do it, of course!' he said. 'I shall attack my uncleabout it tomorrow morning, and I'm very glad you told me the story. Buthow was it that you thought of coming to me about it, Terentieff?'

"'So much depends upon your uncle, ' I said. 'And besides we have alwaysbeen enemies, Bachmatoff; and as you are a generous sort of fellow, Ithought you would not refuse my request because I was your enemy!' Iadded with irony. 

"'Like Napoleon going to England, eh?' cried he, laughing. 'I'll do itthough--of course, and at once, if I can!' he added, seeing that I roseseriously from my chair at this point. 

"And sure enough the matter ended as satisfactorily as possible. A monthor so later my medical friend was appointed to another post. He got histravelling expenses paid, and something to help him to start life withonce more. I think Bachmatoff must have persuaded the doctor to accepta loan from himself. I saw Bachmatoff two or three times, about thisperiod, the third time being when he gave a farewell dinner to thedoctor and his wife before their departure, a champagne dinner. 

"Bachmatoff saw me home after the dinner and we crossed the Nicolaibridge. We were both a little drunk. He told me of his joy, the joyfulfeeling of having done a good action; he said that it was all thanks tomyself that he could feel this satisfaction; and held forth about thefoolishness of the theory that individual charity is useless. 

"I, too, was burning to have my say!

"'In Moscow, ' I said, 'there was an old state counsellor, a civilgeneral, who, all his life, had been in the habit of visiting theprisons and speaking to criminals. Every party of convicts on its wayto Siberia knew beforehand that on the Vorobeef Hills the "old general"would pay them a visit. He did all he undertook seriously and devotedly. He would walk down the rows of the unfortunate prisoners, stop beforeeach individual and ask after his needs--he never sermonized them; hespoke kindly to them--he gave them money; he brought them all sorts ofnecessaries for the journey, and gave them devotional books, choosingthose who could read, under the firm conviction that they would read tothose who could not, as they went along. 

"'He scarcely ever talked about the particular crimes of any of them, but listened if any volunteered information on that point. All theconvicts were equal for him, and he made no distinction. He spoke to allas to brothers, and every one of them looked upon him as a father. Whenhe observed among the exiles some poor woman with a child, he wouldalways come forward and fondle the little one, and make it laugh. Hecontinued these acts of mercy up to his very death; and by that time allthe criminals, all over Russia and Siberia, knew him!

"'A man I knew who had been to Siberia and returned, told me that hehimself had been a witness of how the very most hardened criminalsremembered the old general, though, in point of fact, he could never, of course, have distributed more than a few pence to each member of aparty. Their recollection of him was not sentimental or particularlydevoted. Some wretch, for instance, who had been a murderer--cutting thethroat of a dozen fellow-creatures, for instance; or stabbing sixlittle children for his own amusement (there have been such men!)--wouldperhaps, without rhyme or reason, suddenly give a sigh and say, "Iwonder whether that old general is alive still!" Although perhaps he hadnot thought of mentioning him for a dozen years before! How can one saywhat seed of good may have been dropped into his soul, never to die?'

"I continued in that strain for a long while, pointing out to Bachmatoffhow impossible it is to follow up the effects of any isolated good deedone may do, in all its influences and subtle workings upon the heart andafter-actions of others. 

"'And to think that you are to be cut off from life!' remarkedBachmatoff, in a tone of reproach, as though he would like to findsomeone to pitch into on my account. 

"We were leaning over the balustrade of the bridge, looking into theNeva at this moment. 

"'Do you know what has suddenly come into my head?' said I, suddenly--leaning further and further over the rail. 

"'Surely not to throw yourself into the river?' cried Bachmatoff inalarm. Perhaps he read my thought in my face. 

"'No, not yet. At present nothing but the following consideration. Yousee I have some two or three months left me to live--perhaps four; well, supposing that when I have but a month or two more, I take a fancy forsome "good deed" that needs both trouble and time, like this business ofour doctor friend, for instance: why, I shall have to give up the ideaof it and take to something else--some LITTLE good deed, MORE WITHIN MYMEANS, eh? Isn't that an amusing idea!'

"Poor Bachmatoff was much impressed--painfully so. He took me all theway home; not attempting to console me, but behaving with the greatestdelicacy. On taking leave he pressed my hand warmly and asked permissionto come and see me. I replied that if he came to me as a 'comforter, ' soto speak (for he would be in that capacity whether he spoke to me in asoothing manner or only kept silence, as I pointed out to him), hewould but remind me each time of my approaching death! He shrugged hisshoulders, but quite agreed with me; and we parted better friends than Ihad expected. 

"But that evening and that night were sown the first seeds of my 'lastconviction. ' I seized greedily on my new idea; I thirstily drank inall its different aspects (I did not sleep a wink that night!), and thedeeper I went into it the more my being seemed to merge itself in it, and the more alarmed I became. A dreadful terror came over me at last, and did not leave me all next day. 

"Sometimes, thinking over this, I became quite numb with the terrorof it; and I might well have deduced from this fact, that my 'lastconviction' was eating into my being too fast and too seriously, andwould undoubtedly come to its climax before long. And for the climax Ineeded greater determination than I yet possessed. 

"However, within three weeks my determination was taken, owing to a verystrange circumstance. 

"Here on my paper, I make a note of all the figures and dates thatcome into my explanation. Of course, it is all the same to me, but justnow--and perhaps only at this moment--I desire that all those who are tojudge of my action should see clearly out of how logical a sequence ofdeductions has at length proceeded my 'last conviction. '

"I have said above that the determination needed by me for theaccomplishment of my final resolve, came to hand not through anysequence of causes, but thanks to a certain strange circumstance whichhad perhaps no connection whatever with the matter at issue. Ten daysago Rogojin called upon me about certain business of his own with whichI have nothing to do at present. I had never seen Rogojin before, buthad often heard about him. 

"I gave him all the information he needed, and he very soon took hisdeparture; so that, since he only came for the purpose of gaining theinformation, the matter might have been expected to end there. 

"But he interested me too much, and all that day I was under theinfluence of strange thoughts connected with him, and I determined toreturn his visit the next day. 

"Rogojin was evidently by no means pleased to see me, and hinted, delicately, that he saw no reason why our acquaintance should continue. For all that, however, I spent a very interesting hour, and so, I daresay, did he. There was so great a contrast between us that I am sure wemust both have felt it; anyhow, I felt it acutely. Here was I, with mydays numbered, and he, a man in the full vigour of life, living inthe present, without the slightest thought for 'final convictions, ' ornumbers, or days, or, in fact, for anything but that which-which--well, which he was mad about, if he will excuse me the expression--as a feebleauthor who cannot express his ideas properly. 

"In spite of his lack of amiability, I could not help seeing, in Rogojina man of intellect and sense; and although, perhaps, there was little inthe outside world which was of interest to him, still he was clearly aman with eyes to see. 

"I hinted nothing to him about my 'final conviction, ' but it appearedto me that he had guessed it from my words. He remained silent--he isa terribly silent man. I remarked to him, as I rose to depart, that, in spite of the contrast and the wide differences between us two, les extremites se touchent ('extremes meet, ' as I explained to him inRussian); so that maybe he was not so far from my final conviction asappeared. 

"His only reply to this was a sour grimace. He rose and looked formy cap, and placed it in my hand, and led me out of the house--thatdreadful gloomy house of his--to all appearances, of course, as though Iwere leaving of my own accord, and he were simply seeing me to thedoor out of politeness. His house impressed me much; it is like aburial-ground, he seems to like it, which is, however, quite natural. Such a full life as he leads is so overflowing with absorbing intereststhat he has little need of assistance from his surroundings. 

"The visit to Rogojin exhausted me terribly. Besides, I had felt illsince the morning; and by evening I was so weak that I took to my bed, and was in high fever at intervals, and even delirious. Colia sat withme until eleven o'clock. 

"Yet I remember all he talked about, and every word we said, thoughwhenever my eyes closed for a moment I could picture nothing but theimage of Surikoff just in the act of finding a million roubles. He couldnot make up his mind what to do with the money, and tore his hair overit. He trembled with fear that somebody would rob him, and at lasthe decided to bury it in the ground. I persuaded him that, instead ofputting it all away uselessly underground, he had better melt it downand make a golden coffin out of it for his starved child, and then digup the little one and put her into the golden coffin. Surikoff acceptedthis suggestion, I thought, with tears of gratitude, and immediatelycommenced to carry out my design. 

"I thought I spat on the ground and left him in disgust. Colia toldme, when I quite recovered my senses, that I had not been asleep for amoment, but that I had spoken to him about Surikoff the whole while. 

"At moments I was in a state of dreadful weakness and misery, so thatColia was greatly disturbed when he left me. 

"When I arose to lock the door after him, I suddenly called to mind apicture I had noticed at Rogojin's in one of his gloomiest rooms, overthe door. He had pointed it out to me himself as we walked past it, andI believe I must have stood a good five minutes in front of it. Therewas nothing artistic about it, but the picture made me feel strangelyuncomfortable. It represented Christ just taken down from the cross. Itseems to me that painters as a rule represent the Saviour, both on thecross and taken down from it, with great beauty still upon His face. This marvellous beauty they strive to preserve even in His moments ofdeepest agony and passion. But there was no such beauty in Rogojin'spicture. This was the presentment of a poor mangled body which hadevidently suffered unbearable anguish even before its crucifixion, fullof wounds and bruises, marks of the violence of soldiers and people, andof the bitterness of the moment when He had fallen with the cross--allthis combined with the anguish of the actual crucifixion. 

"The face was depicted as though still suffering; as though the body, only just dead, was still almost quivering with agony. The picture wasone of pure nature, for the face was not beautified by the artist, butwas left as it would naturally be, whosoever the sufferer, after suchanguish. 

"I know that the earliest Christian faith taught that the Savioursuffered actually and not figuratively, and that nature was allowed herown way even while His body was on the cross. 

"It is strange to look on this dreadful picture of the mangled corpseof the Saviour, and to put this question to oneself: 'Supposing that thedisciples, the future apostles, the women who had followed Him and stoodby the cross, all of whom believed in and worshipped Him--supposingthat they saw this tortured body, this face so mangled and bleeding andbruised (and they MUST have so seen it)--how could they have gazed uponthe dreadful sight and yet have believed that He would rise again?'

"The thought steps in, whether one likes it or no, that death is soterrible and so powerful, that even He who conquered it in His miraclesduring life was unable to triumph over it at the last. He who calledto Lazarus, 'Lazarus, come forth!' and the dead man lived--He was nowHimself a prey to nature and death. Nature appears to one, looking atthis picture, as some huge, implacable, dumb monster; or still better--astranger simile--some enormous mechanical engine of modern days whichhas seized and crushed and swallowed up a great and invaluable Being, a Being worth nature and all her laws, worth the whole earth, which wasperhaps created merely for the sake of the advent of that Being. 

"This blind, dumb, implacable, eternal, unreasoning force is well shownin the picture, and the absolute subordination of all men and things toit is so well expressed that the idea unconsciously arises in the mindof anyone who looks at it. All those faithful people who were gazing atthe cross and its mutilated occupant must have suffered agony of mindthat evening; for they must have felt that all their hopes and almostall their faith had been shattered at a blow. They must have separatedin terror and dread that night, though each perhaps carried away withhim one great thought which was never eradicated from his mind for everafterwards. If this great Teacher of theirs could have seen Himselfafter the Crucifixion, how could He have consented to mount the Crossand to die as He did? This thought also comes into the mind of the manwho gazes at this picture. I thought of all this by snatches probablybetween my attacks of delirium--for an hour and a half or so beforeColia's departure. 

"Can there be an appearance of that which has no form? And yet it seemedto me, at certain moments, that I beheld in some strange and impossibleform, that dark, dumb, irresistibly powerful, eternal force. 

"I thought someone led me by the hand and showed me, by the light ofa candle, a huge, loathsome insect, which he assured me was that veryforce, that very almighty, dumb, irresistible Power, and laughed atthe indignation with which I received this information. In my room theyalways light the little lamp before my icon for the night; it gives afeeble flicker of light, but it is strong enough to see by dimly, andif you sit just under it you can even read by it. I think it was abouttwelve or a little past that night. I had not slept a wink, and waslying with my eyes wide open, when suddenly the door opened, and in cameRogojin. 

"He entered, and shut the door behind him. Then he silently gazed at meand went quickly to the corner of the room where the lamp was burningand sat down underneath it. 

"I was much surprised, and looked at him expectantly. 

"Rogojin only leaned his elbow on the table and silently stared at me. So passed two or three minutes, and I recollect that his silence hurtand offended me very much. Why did he not speak?

"That his arrival at this time of night struck me as more or lessstrange may possibly be the case; but I remember I was by no meansamazed at it. On the contrary, though I had not actually told him mythought in the morning, yet I know he understood it; and this thoughtwas of such a character that it would not be anything very remarkable, if one were to come for further talk about it at any hour of night, however late. 

"I thought he must have come for this purpose. 

"In the morning we had parted not the best of friends; I remember helooked at me with disagreeable sarcasm once or twice; and this same lookI observed in his eyes now--which was the cause of the annoyance I felt. 

"I did not for a moment suspect that I was delirious and that thisRogojin was but the result of fever and excitement. I had not theslightest idea of such a theory at first. 

"Meanwhile he continued to sit and stare jeeringly at me. 

"I angrily turned round in bed and made up my mind that I would not saya word unless he did; so I rested silently on my pillow determined toremain dumb, if it were to last till morning. I felt resolved that heshould speak first. Probably twenty minutes or so passed in this way. Suddenly the idea struck me--what if this is an apparition and notRogojin himself?

"Neither during my illness nor at any previous time had I ever seen anapparition;--but I had always thought, both when I was a little boy, andeven now, that if I were to see one I should die on the spot--though Idon't believe in ghosts. And yet NOW, when the idea struck me that thiswas a ghost and not Rogojin at all, I was not in the least alarmed. Nay--the thought actually irritated me. Strangely enough, the decisionof the question as to whether this were a ghost or Rogojin did not, forsome reason or other, interest me nearly so much as it ought to havedone;--I think I began to muse about something altogether different. Forinstance, I began to wonder why Rogojin, who had been in dressing--gownand slippers when I saw him at home, had now put on a dress-coat andwhite waistcoat and tie? I also thought to myself, I remember--'ifthis is a ghost, and I am not afraid of it, why don't I approach it andverify my suspicions? Perhaps I am afraid--' And no sooner did this lastidea enter my head than an icy blast blew over me; I felt a chill downmy backbone and my knees shook. 

"At this very moment, as though divining my thoughts, Rogojin raised hishead from his arm and began to part his lips as though he were going tolaugh--but he continued to stare at me as persistently as before. 

"I felt so furious with him at this moment that I longed to rush athim; but as I had sworn that he should speak first, I continued to liestill--and the more willingly, as I was still by no means satisfied asto whether it really was Rogojin or not. 

"I cannot remember how long this lasted; I cannot recollect, either, whether consciousness forsook me at intervals, or not. But at lastRogojin rose, staring at me as intently as ever, but not smiling anylonger, --and walking very softly, almost on tip-toes, to the door, heopened it, went out, and shut it behind him. 

"I did not rise from my bed, and I don't know how long I lay with myeyes open, thinking. I don't know what I thought about, nor how I fellasleep or became insensible; but I awoke next morning after nine o'clockwhen they knocked at my door. My general orders are that if I don't openthe door and call, by nine o'clock, Matreona is to come and bring mytea. When I now opened the door to her, the thought suddenly struckme--how could he have come in, since the door was locked? I madeinquiries and found that Rogojin himself could not possibly have comein, because all our doors were locked for the night. 

"Well, this strange circumstance--which I have described with somuch detail--was the ultimate cause which led me to taking my finaldetermination. So that no logic, or logical deductions, had anything todo with my resolve;--it was simply a matter of disgust. 

"It was impossible for me to go on living when life was full of suchdetestable, strange, tormenting forms. This ghost had humiliatedme;--nor could I bear to be subordinate to that dark, horrible forcewhich was embodied in the form of the loathsome insect. It was onlytowards evening, when I had quite made up my mind on this point, that Ibegan to feel easier. "

VII. 

"I HAD a small pocket pistol. I had procured it while still a boy, atthat droll age when the stories of duels and highwaymen begin to delightone, and when one imagines oneself nobly standing fire at some futureday, in a duel. 

"There were a couple of old bullets in the bag which contained thepistol, and powder enough in an old flask for two or three charges. 

"The pistol was a wretched thing, very crooked and wouldn't carryfarther than fifteen paces at the most. However, it would send yourskull flying well enough if you pressed the muzzle of it against yourtemple. 

"I determined to die at Pavlofsk at sunrise, in the park--so as to makeno commotion in the house. 

"This 'explanation' will make the matter clear enough to the police. Students of psychology, and anyone else who likes, may make what theyplease of it. I should not like this paper, however, to be made public. I request the prince to keep a copy himself, and to give a copy toAglaya Ivanovna Epanchin. This is my last will and testament. As formy skeleton, I bequeath it to the Medical Academy for the benefit ofscience. 

"I recognize no jurisdiction over myself, and I know that I am nowbeyond the power of laws and judges. 

"A little while ago a very amusing idea struck me. What if I were now tocommit some terrible crime--murder ten fellow-creatures, for instance, or anything else that is thought most shocking and dreadful in thisworld--what a dilemma my judges would be in, with a criminal who onlyhas a fortnight to live in any case, now that the rack and other formsof torture are abolished! Why, I should die comfortably in their ownhospital--in a warm, clean room, with an attentive doctor--probably muchmore comfortably than I should at home. 

"I don't understand why people in my position do not oftener indulge insuch ideas--if only for a joke! Perhaps they do! Who knows! There areplenty of merry souls among us!

"But though I do not recognize any jurisdiction over myself, still Iknow that I shall be judged, when I am nothing but a voiceless lumpof clay; therefore I do not wish to go before I have left a word ofreply--the reply of a free man--not one forced to justify himself--ohno! I have no need to ask forgiveness of anyone. I wish to say a wordmerely because I happen to desire it of my own free will. 

"Here, in the first place, comes a strange thought!

"Who, in the name of what Law, would think of disputing my full personalright over the fortnight of life left to me? What jurisdiction canbe brought to bear upon the case? Who would wish me, not only to besentenced, but to endure the sentence to the end? Surely there existsno man who would wish such a thing--why should anyone desire it? Forthe sake of morality? Well, I can understand that if I were to makean attempt upon my own life while in the enjoyment of full health andvigour--my life which might have been 'useful, ' etc. , etc. --moralitymight reproach me, according to the old routine, for disposing of mylife without permission--or whatever its tenet may be. But now, NOW, when my sentence is out and my days numbered! How can morality have needof my last breaths, and why should I die listening to the consolationsoffered by the prince, who, without doubt, would not omit to demonstratethat death is actually a benefactor to me? (Christians like him alwaysend up with that--it is their pet theory. ) And what do they want withtheir ridiculous 'Pavlofsk trees'? To sweeten my last hours? Cannot theyunderstand that the more I forget myself, the more I let myself becomeattached to these last illusions of life and love, by means of whichthey try to hide from me Meyer's wall, and all that is so plainlywritten on it--the more unhappy they make me? What is the use of allyour nature to me--all your parks and trees, your sunsets and sunrises, your blue skies and your self-satisfied faces--when all this wealthof beauty and happiness begins with the fact that it accounts me--onlyme--one too many! What is the good of all this beauty and glory to me, when every second, every moment, I cannot but be aware that this littlefly which buzzes around my head in the sun's rays--even this little flyis a sharer and participator in all the glory of the universe, and knowsits place and is happy in it;--while I--only I, am an outcast, and havebeen blind to the fact hitherto, thanks to my simplicity! Oh! I knowwell how the prince and others would like me, instead of indulging inall these wicked words of my own, to sing, to the glory and triumph ofmorality, that well-known verse of Gilbert's:

"'O, puissent voir longtemps votre beaute sacree Tant d'amis, sourds ames adieux! Qu'ils meurent pleins de jours, que leur mort soit pleuree, Qu'un ami leur ferme les yeux!'

"But believe me, believe me, my simple-hearted friends, that in thishighly moral verse, in this academical blessing to the world in generalin the French language, is hidden the intensest gall and bitterness;but so well concealed is the venom, that I dare say the poet actuallypersuaded himself that his words were full of the tears of pardon andpeace, instead of the bitterness of disappointment and malice, and sodied in the delusion. 

"Do you know there is a limit of ignominy, beyond which man'sconsciousness of shame cannot go, and after which begins satisfaction inshame? Well, of course humility is a great force in that sense, I admitthat--though not in the sense in which religion accounts humility to bestrength!

"Religion!--I admit eternal life--and perhaps I always did admit it. 

"Admitted that consciousness is called into existence by the will of aHigher Power; admitted that this consciousness looks out upon the worldand says 'I am;' and admitted that the Higher Power wills that theconsciousness so called into existence, be suddenly extinguished (forso--for some unexplained reason--it is and must be)--still there comesthe eternal question--why must I be humble through all this? Is it notenough that I am devoured, without my being expected to bless thepower that devours me? Surely--surely I need not suppose thatSomebody--there--will be offended because I do not wish to live out thefortnight allowed me? I don't believe it. 

"It is much simpler, and far more likely, to believe that my deathis needed--the death of an insignificant atom--in order to fulfil thegeneral harmony of the universe--in order to make even some plus orminus in the sum of existence. Just as every day the death of numbers ofbeings is necessary because without their annihilation the rest cannotlive on--(although we must admit that the idea is not a particularlygrand one in itself!)

"However--admit the fact! Admit that without such perpetual devouring ofone another the world cannot continue to exist, or could never have beenorganized--I am ever ready to confess that I cannot understand why thisis so--but I'll tell you what I DO know, for certain. If I have oncebeen given to understand and realize that I AM--what does it matterto me that the world is organized on a system full of errors and thatotherwise it cannot be organized at all? Who will or can judge me afterthis? Say what you like--the thing is impossible and unjust!

"And meanwhile I have never been able, in spite of my great desire todo so, to persuade myself that there is no future existence, and noProvidence. 

"The fact of the matter is that all this DOES exist, but that we knowabsolutely nothing about the future life and its laws!

"But it is so difficult, and even impossible to understand, that surelyI am not to be blamed because I could not fathom the incomprehensible?

"Of course I know they say that one must be obedient, and of course, too, the prince is one of those who say so: that one must be obedientwithout questions, out of pure goodness of heart, and that for my worthyconduct in this matter I shall meet with reward in another world. Wedegrade God when we attribute our own ideas to Him, out of annoyancethat we cannot fathom His ways. 

"Again, I repeat, I cannot be blamed because I am unable to understandthat which it is not given to mankind to fathom. Why am I to be judgedbecause I could not comprehend the Will and Laws of Providence? No, wehad better drop religion. 

"And enough of this. By the time I have got so far in the reading ofmy document the sun will be up and the huge force of his rays will beacting upon the living world. So be it. I shall die gazing straight atthe great Fountain of life and power; I do not want this life!

"If I had had the power to prevent my own birth I should certainly neverhave consented to accept existence under such ridiculous conditions. However, I have the power to end my existence, although I do but giveback days that are already numbered. It is an insignificant gift, and myrevolt is equally insignificant. 

"Final explanation: I die, not in the least because I am unable tosupport these next three weeks. Oh no, I should find strength enough, and if I wished it I could obtain consolation from the thought of theinjury that is done me. But I am not a French poet, and I do not desiresuch consolation. And finally, nature has so limited my capacity forwork or activity of any kind, in allotting me but three weeks of time, that suicide is about the only thing left that I can begin and end inthe time of my own free will. 

"Perhaps then I am anxious to take advantage of my last chance of doingsomething for myself. A protest is sometimes no small thing. "

The explanation was finished; Hippolyte paused at last. 

There is, in extreme cases, a final stage of cynical candour when anervous man, excited, and beside himself with emotion, will be afraidof nothing and ready for any sort of scandal, nay, glad of it. Theextraordinary, almost unnatural, tension of the nerves which upheldHippolyte up to this point, had now arrived at this final stage. Thispoor feeble boy of eighteen--exhausted by disease--looked for all theworld as weak and frail as a leaflet torn from its parent tree andtrembling in the breeze; but no sooner had his eye swept over hisaudience, for the first time during the whole of the last hour, than themost contemptuous, the most haughty expression of repugnance lightedup his face. He defied them all, as it were. But his hearers wereindignant, too; they rose to their feet with annoyance. Fatigue, the wine consumed, the strain of listening so long, all added to thedisagreeable impression which the reading had made upon them. 

Suddenly Hippolyte jumped up as though he had been shot. 

"The sun is rising, " he cried, seeing the gilded tops of the trees, andpointing to them as to a miracle. "See, it is rising now!"

"Well, what then? Did you suppose it wasn't going to rise?" askedFerdishenko. 

"It's going to be atrociously hot again all day, " said Gania, with anair of annoyance, taking his hat. "A month of this. . . Are you cominghome, Ptitsin?" Hippolyte listened to this in amazement, almostamounting to stupefaction. Suddenly he became deadly pale and shuddered. 

"You manage your composure too awkwardly. I see you wish to insult me, "he cried to Gania. "You--you are a cur!" He looked at Gania with anexpression of malice. 

"What on earth is the matter with the boy? What phenomenalfeeble-mindedness!" exclaimed Ferdishenko. 

"Oh, he's simply a fool, " said Gania. 

Hippolyte braced himself up a little. 

"I understand, gentlemen, " he began, trembling as before, and stumblingover every word, "that I have deserved your resentment, and--andam sorry that I should have troubled you with this raving nonsense"(pointing to his article), "or rather, I am sorry that I have nottroubled you enough. " He smiled feebly. "Have I troubled you, EvgeniePavlovitch?" He suddenly turned on Evgenie with this question. "Tell menow, have I troubled you or not?"

"Well, it was a little drawn out, perhaps; but--"

"Come, speak out! Don't lie, for once in your life--speak out!"continued Hippolyte, quivering with agitation. 

"Oh, my good sir, I assure you it's entirely the same to me. Pleaseleave me in peace, " said Evgenie, angrily, turning his back on him. 

"Good-night, prince, " said Ptitsin, approaching his host. 

"What are you thinking of? Don't go, he'll blow his brains out in aminute!" cried Vera Lebedeff, rushing up to Hippolyte and catching holdof his hands in a torment of alarm. "What are you thinking of? He saidhe would blow his brains out at sunrise. "

"Oh, he won't shoot himself!" cried several voices, sarcastically. 

"Gentlemen, you'd better look out, " cried Colia, also seizing Hippolyteby the hand. "Just look at him! Prince, what are you thinking of?" Veraand Colia, and Keller, and Burdovsky were all crowding round Hippolytenow and holding him down. 

"He has the right--the right--"-murmured Burdovsky. "Excuse me, prince, but what are your arrangements?" asked Lebedeff, tipsy and exasperated, going up to Muishkin. 

"What do you mean by 'arrangements'?"

"No, no, excuse me! I'm master of this house, though I do not wish tolack respect towards you. You are master of the house too, in a way; butI can't allow this sort of thing--"

"He won't shoot himself; the boy is only playing the fool, " said GeneralIvolgin, suddenly and unexpectedly, with indignation. 

"I know he won't, I know he won't, general; but I--I'm master here!"

"Listen, Mr. Terentieff, " said Ptitsin, who had bidden the princegood-night, and was now holding out his hand to Hippolyte; "I think youremark in that manuscript of yours, that you bequeath your skeleton tothe Academy. Are you referring to your own skeleton--I mean, your verybones?"

"Yes, my bones, I--"

"Quite so, I see; because, you know, little mistakes have occurred nowand then. There was a case--"

"Why do you tease him?" cried the prince, suddenly. 

"You've moved him to tears, " added Ferdishenko. But Hippolyte was by nomeans weeping. He was about to move from his place, when his four guardsrushed at him and seized him once more. There was a laugh at this. 

"He led up to this on purpose. He took the trouble of writing all thatso that people should come and grab him by the arm, " observed Rogojin. "Good-night, prince. What a time we've sat here, my very bones ache!"

"If you really intended to shoot yourself, Terentieff, " said EvgeniePavlovitch, laughing, "if I were you, after all these compliments, Ishould just not shoot myself in order to vex them all. "

"They are very anxious to see me blow my brains out, " said Hippolyte, bitterly. 

"Yes, they'll be awfully annoyed if they don't see it. "

"Then you think they won't see it?"

"I am not trying to egg you on. On the contrary, I think it very likelythat you may shoot yourself; but the principal thing is to keep cool, "said Evgenie with a drawl, and with great condescension. 

"I only now perceive what a terrible mistake I made in reading thisarticle to them, " said Hippolyte, suddenly, addressing Evgenie, andlooking at him with an expression of trust and confidence, as though hewere applying to a friend for counsel. 

"Yes, it's a droll situation; I really don't know what advice to giveyou, " replied Evgenie, laughing. Hippolyte gazed steadfastly at him, but said nothing. To look at him one might have supposed that he wasunconscious at intervals. 

"Excuse me, " said Lebedeff, "but did you observe the young gentleman'sstyle? 'I'll go and blow my brains out in the park, ' says he, ' so as notto disturb anyone. ' He thinks he won't disturb anybody if he goes threeyards away, into the park, and blows his brains out there. "

"Gentlemen--" began the prince. 

"No, no, excuse me, most revered prince, " Lebedeff interrupted, excitedly. "Since you must have observed yourself that this is no joke, and since at least half your guests must also have concluded that afterall that has been said this youth MUST blow his brains out for honour'ssake--I--as master of this house, and before these witnesses, now callupon you to take steps. "

"Yes, but what am I to do, Lebedeff? What steps am I to take? I amready. "

"I'll tell you. In the first place he must immediately deliver up thepistol which he boasted of, with all its appurtenances. If he doesthis I shall consent to his being allowed to spend the night inthis house--considering his feeble state of health, and of courseconditionally upon his being under proper supervision. But tomorrow hemust go elsewhere. Excuse me, prince! Should he refuse to deliver up hisweapon, then I shall instantly seize one of his arms and General Ivolginthe other, and we shall hold him until the police arrive and take thematter into their own hands. Mr. Ferdishenko will kindly fetch them. "

At this there was a dreadful noise; Lebedeff danced about in hisexcitement; Ferdishenko prepared to go for the police; Gania franticallyinsisted that it was all nonsense, "for nobody was going to shootthemselves. " Evgenie Pavlovitch said nothing. 

"Prince, " whispered Hippolyte, suddenly, his eyes all ablaze, "you don'tsuppose that I did not foresee all this hatred?" He looked at the princeas though he expected him to reply, for a moment. "Enough!" he added atlength, and addressing the whole company, he cried: "It's all my fault, gentlemen! Lebedeff, here's the key, " (he took out a small bunch ofkeys); "this one, the last but one--Colia will show you--Colia, where'sColia?" he cried, looking straight at Colia and not seeing him. "Yes, he'll show you; he packed the bag with me this morning. Take him up, Colia; my bag is upstairs in the prince's study, under the table. Here'sthe key, and in the little case you'll find my pistol and the powder, and all. Colia packed it himself, Mr. Lebedeff; he'll show you; but it'son condition that tomorrow morning, when I leave for Petersburg, youwill give me back my pistol, do you hear? I do this for the prince'ssake, not yours. "

"Capital, that's much better!" cried Lebedeff, and seizing the key hemade off in haste. 

Colia stopped a moment as though he wished to say something; butLebedeff dragged him away. 

Hippolyte looked around at the laughing guests. The prince observed thathis teeth were chattering as though in a violent attack of ague. 

"What brutes they all are!" he whispered to the prince. Whenever headdressed him he lowered his voice. 

"Let them alone, you're too weak now--"

"Yes, directly; I'll go away directly. I'll--"

Suddenly he embraced Muishkin. 

"Perhaps you think I am mad, eh?" he asked him, laughing very strangely. 

"No, but you--"

"Directly, directly! Stand still a moment, I wish to look in your eyes;don't speak--stand so--let me look at you! I am bidding farewell tomankind. "

He stood so for ten seconds, gazing at the prince, motionless, deadlypale, his temples wet with perspiration; he held the prince's hand in astrange grip, as though afraid to let him go. 

"Hippolyte, Hippolyte, what is the matter with you?" cried Muishkin. 

"Directly! There, that's enough. I'll lie down directly. I must drink tothe sun's health. I wish to--I insist upon it! Let go!"

He seized a glass from the table, broke away from the prince, and in amoment had reached the terrace steps. 

The prince made after him, but it so happened that at this momentEvgenie Pavlovitch stretched out his hand to say good-night. The nextinstant there was a general outcry, and then followed a few moments ofindescribable excitement. 

Reaching the steps, Hippolyte had paused, holding the glass in his lefthand while he put his right hand into his coat pocket. 

Keller insisted afterwards that he had held his right hand in his pocketall the while, when he was speaking to the prince, and that he had heldthe latter's shoulder with his left hand only. This circumstance, Kelleraffirmed, had led him to feel some suspicion from the first. Howeverthis may be, Keller ran after Hippolyte, but he was too late. 

He caught sight of something flashing in Hippolyte's right hand, andsaw that it was a pistol. He rushed at him, but at that very instantHippolyte raised the pistol to his temple and pulled the trigger. Therefollowed a sharp metallic click, but no report. 

When Keller seized the would-be suicide, the latter fell forward intohis arms, probably actually believing that he was shot. Keller had holdof the pistol now. Hippolyte was immediately placed in a chair, whilethe whole company thronged around excitedly, talking and asking eachother questions. Every one of them had heard the snap of the trigger, and yet they saw a live and apparently unharmed man before them. 

Hippolyte himself sat quite unconscious of what was going on, and gazedaround with a senseless expression. 

Lebedeff and Colia came rushing up at this moment. 

"What is it?" someone asked, breathlessly--"A misfire?"

"Perhaps it wasn't loaded, " said several voices. 

"It's loaded all right, " said Keller, examining the pistol, "but--"

"What! did it miss fire?"

"There was no cap in it, " Keller announced. 

It would be difficult to describe the pitiable scene that now followed. The first sensation of alarm soon gave place to amusement; someburst out laughing loud and heartily, and seemed to find a malicioussatisfaction in the joke. Poor Hippolyte sobbed hysterically; he wrunghis hands; he approached everyone in turn--even Ferdishenko--and tookthem by both hands, and swore solemnly that he had forgotten--absolutelyforgotten--"accidentally, and not on purpose, "--to put a cap in--thathe "had ten of them, at least, in his pocket. " He pulled them out andshowed them to everyone; he protested that he had not liked to put onein beforehand for fear of an accidental explosion in his pocket. Thathe had thought he would have lots of time to put it in afterwards--whenrequired--and, that, in the heat of the moment, he had forgotten allabout it. He threw himself upon the prince, then on Evgenie Pavlovitch. He entreated Keller to give him back the pistol, and he'd soon show themall that "his honour--his honour, "--but he was "dishonoured, now, forever!"

He fell senseless at last--and was carried into the prince's study. 

Lebedeff, now quite sobered down, sent for a doctor; and he and hisdaughter, with Burdovsky and General Ivolgin, remained by the sick man'scouch. 

When he was carried away unconscious, Keller stood in the middle of theroom, and made the following declaration to the company in general, in aloud tone of voice, with emphasis upon each word. 

"Gentlemen, if any one of you casts any doubt again, before me, upon Hippolyte's good faith, or hints that the cap was forgottenintentionally, or suggests that this unhappy boy was acting a partbefore us, I beg to announce that the person so speaking shall accountto me for his words. "

No one replied. 

The company departed very quickly, in a mass. Ptitsin, Gania, andRogojin went away together. 

The prince was much astonished that Evgenie Pavlovitch changed his mind, and took his departure without the conversation he had requested. 

"Why, you wished to have a talk with me when the others left?" he said. 

"Quite so, " said Evgenie, sitting down suddenly beside him, "but I havechanged my mind for the time being. I confess, I am too disturbed, andso, I think, are you; and the matter as to which I wished to consult youis too serious to tackle with one's mind even a little disturbed; tooserious both for myself and for you. You see, prince, for once in mylife I wish to perform an absolutely honest action, that is, an actionwith no ulterior motive; and I think I am hardly in a condition to talkof it just at this moment, and--and--well, we'll discuss it anothertime. Perhaps the matter may gain in clearness if we wait for twoor three days--just the two or three days which I must spend inPetersburg. "

Here he rose again from his chair, so that it seemed strange that heshould have thought it worth while to sit down at all. 

The prince thought, too, that he looked vexed and annoyed, and notnearly so friendly towards himself as he had been earlier in the night. 

"I suppose you will go to the sufferer's bedside now?" he added. 

"Yes, I am afraid. . . " began the prince. 

"Oh, you needn't fear! He'll live another six weeks all right. Verylikely he will recover altogether; but I strongly advise you to pack himoff tomorrow. "

"I think I may have offended him by saying nothing just now. I am afraidhe may suspect that I doubted his good faith, --about shooting himself, you know. What do you think, Evgenie Pavlovitch?"

"Not a bit of it! You are much too good to him; you shouldn't care ahang about what he thinks. I have heard of such things before, but nevercame across, till tonight, a man who would actually shoot himself inorder to gain a vulgar notoriety, or blow out his brains for spite, if he finds that people don't care to pat him on the back for hissanguinary intentions. But what astonishes me more than anything isthe fellow's candid confession of weakness. You'd better get rid of himtomorrow, in any case. 

"Do you think he will make another attempt?"

"Oh no, not he, not now! But you have to be very careful with thissort of gentleman. Crime is too often the last resource of these pettynonentities. This young fellow is quite capable of cutting the throatsof ten people, simply for a lark, as he told us in his 'explanation. ' Iassure you those confounded words of his will not let me sleep. "

"I think you disturb yourself too much. "

"What an extraordinary person you are, prince! Do you mean to say thatyou doubt the fact that he is capable of murdering ten men?"

"I daren't say, one way or the other; all this is very strange--but--"

"Well, as you like, just as you like, " said Evgenie Pavlovitch, irritably. "Only you are such a plucky fellow, take care you don't getincluded among the ten victims!"

"Oh, he is much more likely not to kill anyone at all, " said the prince, gazing thoughtfully at Evgenie. The latter laughed disagreeably. 

"Well, au revoir! Did you observe that he 'willed' a copy of hisconfession to Aglaya Ivanovna?"

"Yes, I did; I am thinking of it. "

"In connection with 'the ten, ' eh?" laughed Evgenie, as he left theroom. 

An hour later, towards four o'clock, the prince went into the park. He had endeavoured to fall asleep, but could not, owing to the painfulbeating of his heart. 

He had left things quiet and peaceful; the invalid was fast asleep, andthe doctor, who had been called in, had stated that there was no specialdanger. Lebedeff, Colia, and Burdovsky were lying down in the sick-room, ready to take it in turns to watch. There was nothing to fear, therefore, at home. 

But the prince's mental perturbation increased every moment. He wanderedabout the park, looking absently around him, and paused in astonishmentwhen he suddenly found himself in the empty space with the rows ofchairs round it, near the Vauxhall. The look of the place struck himas dreadful now: so he turned round and went by the path which he hadfollowed with the Epanchins on the way to the band, until he reached thegreen bench which Aglaya had pointed out for their rendezvous. He satdown on it and suddenly burst into a loud fit of laughter, immediatelyfollowed by a feeling of irritation. His disturbance of mind continued;he felt that he must go away somewhere, anywhere. 

Above his head some little bird sang out, of a sudden; he began to peerabout for it among the leaves. Suddenly the bird darted out of the treeand away, and instantly he thought of the "fly buzzing about in thesun's rays" that Hippolyte had talked of; how that it knew its placeand was a participator in the universal life, while he alone was an"outcast. " This picture had impressed him at the time, and he meditatedupon it now. An old, forgotten memory awoke in his brain, and suddenlyburst into clearness and light. It was a recollection of Switzerland, during the first year of his cure, the very first months. At that timehe had been pretty nearly an idiot still; he could not speak properly, and had difficulty in understanding when others spoke to him. He climbedthe mountain-side, one sunny morning, and wandered long and aimlesslywith a certain thought in his brain, which would not become clear. Abovehim was the blazing sky, below, the lake; all around was the horizon, clear and infinite. He looked out upon this, long and anxiously. Heremembered how he had stretched out his arms towards the beautiful, boundless blue of the horizon, and wept, and wept. What had so tormentedhim was the idea that he was a stranger to all this, that he was outsidethis glorious festival. 

What was this universe? What was this grand, eternal pageant to whichhe had yearned from his childhood up, and in which he could never takepart? Every morning the same magnificent sun; every morning thesame rainbow in the waterfall; every evening the same glow on thesnow-mountains. 

Every little fly that buzzed in the sun's rays was a singer in theuniversal chorus, "knew its place, and was happy in it. " Every blade ofgrass grew and was happy. Everything knew its path and loved it, wentforth with a song and returned with a song; only he knew nothing, understood nothing, neither men nor words, nor any of nature's voices;he was a stranger and an outcast. 

Oh, he could not then speak these words, or express all he felt! He hadbeen tormented dumbly; but now it appeared to him that he must havesaid these very words--even then--and that Hippolyte must have taken hispicture of the little fly from his tears and words of that time. 

He was sure of it, and his heart beat excitedly at the thought, he knewnot why. 

He fell asleep on the bench; but his mental disquiet continued throughhis slumbers. 

Just before he dozed off, the idea of Hippolyte murdering ten menflitted through his brain, and he smiled at the absurdity of such athought. 

Around him all was quiet; only the flutter and whisper of the leavesbroke the silence, but broke it only to cause it to appear yet more deepand still. 

He dreamed many dreams as he sat there, and all were full of disquiet, so that he shuddered every moment. 

At length a woman seemed to approach him. He knew her, oh! he knew heronly too well. He could always name her and recognize her anywhere; but, strange, she seemed to have quite a different face from hers, as he hadknown it, and he felt a tormenting desire to be able to say she was notthe same woman. In the face before him there was such dreadful remorseand horror that he thought she must be a criminal, that she must havejust committed some awful crime. 

Tears were trembling on her white cheek. She beckoned him, but placedher finger on her lip as though to warn him that he must follow her veryquietly. His heart froze within him. He wouldn't, he COULDN'T confessher to be a criminal, and yet he felt that something dreadful wouldhappen the next moment, something which would blast his whole life. 

She seemed to wish to show him something, not far off, in the park. 

He rose from his seat in order to follow her, when a bright, clear pealof laughter rang out by his side. He felt somebody's hand suddenly inhis own, seized it, pressed it hard, and awoke. Before him stood Aglaya, laughing aloud. 

VIII. 

SHE laughed, but she was rather angry too. 

"He's asleep! You were asleep, " she said, with contemptuous surprise. 

"Is it really you?" muttered the prince, not quite himself as yet, and recognizing her with a start of amazement. "Oh yes, of course, " headded, "this is our rendezvous. I fell asleep here. "

"So I saw. "

"Did no one awake me besides yourself? Was there no one else here? Ithought there was another woman. "

"There was another woman here?"

At last he was wide awake. 

"It was a dream, of course, " he said, musingly. "Strange that I shouldhave a dream like that at such a moment. Sit down--"

He took her hand and seated her on the bench; then sat down beside herand reflected. 

Aglaya did not begin the conversation, but contented herself withwatching her companion intently. 

He looked back at her, but at times it was clear that he did not see herand was not thinking of her. 

Aglaya began to flush up. 

"Oh yes!" cried the prince, starting. "Hippolyte's suicide--"

"What? At your house?" she asked, but without much surprise. "He wasalive yesterday evening, wasn't he? How could you sleep here afterthat?" she cried, growing suddenly animated. 

"Oh, but he didn't kill himself; the pistol didn't go off. " Aglayainsisted on hearing the whole story. She hurried the prince along, butinterrupted him with all sorts of questions, nearly all of which wereirrelevant. Among other things, she seemed greatly interested in everyword that Evgenie Pavlovitch had said, and made the prince repeat thatpart of the story over and over again. 

"Well, that'll do; we must be quick, " she concluded, after hearing all. "We have only an hour here, till eight; I must be home by then withoutfail, so that they may not find out that I came and sat here with you;but I've come on business. I have a great deal to say to you. But youhave bowled me over considerably with your news. As to Hippolyte, Ithink his pistol was bound not to go off; it was more consistent withthe whole affair. Are you sure he really wished to blow his brains out, and that there was no humbug about the matter?"

"No humbug at all. "

"Very likely. So he wrote that you were to bring me a copy of hisconfession, did he? Why didn't you bring it?"

"Why, he didn't die! I'll ask him for it, if you like. "

"Bring it by all means; you needn't ask him. He will be delighted, youmay be sure; for, in all probability, he shot at himself simply in orderthat I might read his confession. Don't laugh at what I say, please, LefNicolaievitch, because it may very well be the case. "

"I'm not laughing. I am convinced, myself, that that may have beenpartly the reason. 

"You are convinced? You don't really mean to say you think thathonestly?" asked Aglaya, extremely surprised. 

She put her questions very quickly and talked fast, every now and thenforgetting what she had begun to say, and not finishing her sentence. She seemed to be impatient to warn the prince about something or other. She was in a state of unusual excitement, and though she put on a braveand even defiant air, she seemed to be rather alarmed. She was dressedvery simply, but this suited her well. She continually trembled andblushed, and she sat on the very edge of the seat. 

The fact that the prince confirmed her idea, about Hippolyte shootinghimself that she might read his confession, surprised her greatly. 

"Of course, " added the prince, "he wished us all to applaud hisconduct--besides yourself. "

"How do you mean--applaud?"

"Well--how am I to explain? He was very anxious that we should all comearound him, and say we were so sorry for him, and that we loved himvery much, and all that; and that we hoped he wouldn't kill himself, butremain alive. Very likely he thought more of you than the rest of us, because he mentioned you at such a moment, though perhaps he did notknow himself that he had you in his mind's eye. "

"I don't understand you. How could he have me in view, and not be awareof it himself? And yet, I don't know--perhaps I do. Do you know Ihave intended to poison myself at least thirty times--ever since I wasthirteen or so--and to write to my parents before I did it? I usedto think how nice it would be to lie in my coffin, and have them allweeping over me and saying it was all their fault for being so cruel, and all that--what are you smiling at?" she added, knitting her brow. "What do YOU think of when you go mooning about alone? I supposeyou imagine yourself a field-marshal, and think you have conqueredNapoleon?"

"Well, I really have thought something of the sort now and then, especially when just dozing off, " laughed the prince. "Only it is theAustrians whom I conquer--not Napoleon. "

"I don't wish to joke with you, Lef Nicolaievitch. I shall see Hippolytemyself. Tell him so. As for you, I think you are behaving very badly, because it is not right to judge a man's soul as you are judgingHippolyte's. You have no gentleness, but only justice--so you areunjust. "

The prince reflected. 

"I think you are unfair towards me, " he said. "There is nothing wrongin the thoughts I ascribe to Hippolyte; they are only natural. But ofcourse I don't know for certain what he thought. Perhaps he thoughtnothing, but simply longed to see human faces once more, and to hearhuman praise and feel human affection. Who knows? Only it all came outwrong, somehow. Some people have luck, and everything comes out rightwith them; others have none, and never a thing turns out fortunately. "

"I suppose you have felt that in your own case, " said Aglaya. 

"Yes, I have, " replied the prince, quite unsuspicious of any irony inthe remark. 

"H'm--well, at all events, I shouldn't have fallen asleep here, in yourplace. It wasn't nice of you, that. I suppose you fall asleep whereveryou sit down?"

"But I didn't sleep a wink all night. I walked and walked about, andwent to where the music was--"

"What music?"

"Where they played last night. Then I found this bench and sat down, andthought and thought--and at last I fell fast asleep. "

"Oh, is that it? That makes a difference, perhaps. What did you go tothe bandstand for?"

"I don't know; I---"

"Very well--afterwards. You are always interrupting me. What woman wasit you were dreaming about?"

"It was--about--you saw her--"

"Quite so; I understand. I understand quite well. You are very--Well, how did she appear to you? What did she look like? No, I don't want toknow anything about her, " said Aglaya, angrily; "don't interrupt me--"

She paused a moment as though getting breath, or trying to master herfeeling of annoyance. 

"Look here; this is what I called you here for. I wish to make you a--toask you to be my friend. What do you stare at me like that for?" sheadded, almost angrily. 

The prince certainly had darted a rather piercing look at her, and nowobserved that she had begun to blush violently. At such moments, themore Aglaya blushed, the angrier she grew with herself; and this wasclearly expressed in her eyes, which flashed like fire. As a rule, shevented her wrath on her unfortunate companion, be it who it might. Shewas very conscious of her own shyness, and was not nearly so talkativeas her sisters for this reason--in fact, at times she was much tooquiet. When, therefore, she was bound to talk, especially at suchdelicate moments as this, she invariably did so with an air of haughtydefiance. She always knew beforehand when she was going to blush, longbefore the blush came. 

"Perhaps you do not wish to accept my proposition?" she asked, gazinghaughtily at the prince. 

"Oh yes, I do; but it is so unnecessary. I mean, I did not think youneed make such a proposition, " said the prince, looking confused. 

"What did you suppose, then? Why did you think I invited you out here? Isuppose you think me a 'little fool, ' as they all call me at home?"

"I didn't know they called you a fool. I certainly don't think you one. "

"You don't think me one! Oh, dear me!--that's very clever of you; youput it so neatly, too. "

"In my opinion, you are far from a fool sometimes--in fact, you are veryintelligent. You said a very clever thing just now about my being unjustbecause I had ONLY justice. I shall remember that, and think about it. "

Aglaya blushed with pleasure. All these changes in her expression cameabout so naturally and so rapidly--they delighted the prince; he watchedher, and laughed. 

"Listen, " she began again; "I have long waited to tell you all this, ever since the time when you sent me that letter--even before that. Half of what I have to say you heard yesterday. I consider you the mosthonest and upright of men--more honest and upright than any otherman; and if anybody says that your mind is--is sometimes affected, youknow--it is unfair. I always say so and uphold it, because even if yoursurface mind be a little affected (of course you will not feel angrywith me for talking so--I am speaking from a higher point of view) yetyour real mind is far better than all theirs put together. Such amind as they have never even DREAMED of; because really, there are TWOminds--the kind that matters, and the kind that doesn't matter. Isn't itso?"

"May be! may be so!" said the prince, faintly; his heart was beatingpainfully. 

"I knew you would not misunderstand me, " she said, triumphantly. "PrinceS. And Evgenie Pavlovitch and Alexandra don't understand anything aboutthese two kinds of mind, but, just fancy, mamma does!"

"You are very like Lizabetha Prokofievna. "

"What! surely not?" said Aglaya. 

"Yes, you are, indeed. "

"Thank you; I am glad to be like mamma, " she said, thoughtfully. "Yourespect her very much, don't you?" she added, quite unconscious of thenaiveness of the question. 

"VERY much; and I am so glad that you have realized the fact. "

"I am very glad, too, because she is often laughed at by people. Butlisten to the chief point. I have long thought over the matter, and atlast I have chosen you. I don't wish people to laugh at me; I don't wishpeople to think me a 'little fool. ' I don't want to be chaffed. I feltall this of a sudden, and I refused Evgenie Pavlovitch flatly, becauseI am not going to be forever thrown at people's heads to be married. Iwant--I want--well, I'll tell you, I wish to run away from home, and Ihave chosen you to help me. "

"Run away from home?" cried the prince. 

"Yes--yes--yes! Run away from home!" she repeated, in a transport ofrage. "I won't, I won't be made to blush every minute by them all! Idon't want to blush before Prince S. Or Evgenie Pavlovitch, oranyone, and therefore I have chosen you. I shall tell you everything, EVERYTHING, even the most important things of all, whenever I like, and you are to hide nothing from me on your side. I want to speak to atleast one person, as I would to myself. They have suddenly begun to saythat I am waiting for you, and in love with you. They began this beforeyou arrived here, and so I didn't show them the letter, and now they allsay it, every one of them. I want to be brave, and be afraid of nobody. I don't want to go to their balls and things--I want to do good. I havelong desired to run away, for I have been kept shut up for twenty years, and they are always trying to marry me off. I wanted to run away when Iwas fourteen years old--I was a little fool then, I know--but now I haveworked it all out, and I have waited for you to tell me about foreigncountries. I have never seen a single Gothic cathedral. I must go toRome; I must see all the museums; I must study in Paris. All this lastyear I have been preparing and reading forbidden books. Alexandra andAdelaida are allowed to read anything they like, but I mayn't. I don'twant to quarrel with my sisters, but I told my parents long ago that Iwish to change my social position. I have decided to take up teaching, and I count on you because you said you loved children. Can we go in foreducation together--if not at once, then afterwards? We could do goodtogether. I won't be a general's daughter any more! Tell me, are you avery learned man?"

"Oh no; not at all. "

"Oh-h-h! I'm sorry for that. I thought you were. I wonder why I alwaysthought so--but at all events you'll help me, won't you? Because I'vechosen you, you know. "

"Aglaya Ivanovna, it's absurd. "

"But I will, I WILL run away!" she cried--and her eyes flashed againwith anger--"and if you don't agree I shall go and marry GavrilaArdalionovitch! I won't be considered a horrible girl, and accused ofgoodness knows what. "

"Are you out of your mind?" cried the prince, almost starting from hisseat. "What do they accuse you of? Who accuses you?"

"At home, everybody, mother, my sisters, Prince S. , even that detestableColia! If they don't say it, they think it. I told them all so to theirfaces. I told mother and father and everybody. Mamma was ill all theday after it, and next day father and Alexandra told me that I didn'tunderstand what nonsense I was talking. I informed them that theylittle knew me--I was not a small child--I understood every word in thelanguage--that I had read a couple of Paul de Kok's novels two yearssince on purpose, so as to know all about everything. No sooner didmamma hear me say this than she nearly fainted!"

A strange thought passed through the prince's brain; he gazed intentlyat Aglaya and smiled. 

He could not believe that this was the same haughty young girl who hadonce so proudly shown him Gania's letter. He could not understand howthat proud and austere beauty could show herself to be such an utterchild--a child who probably did not even now understand some words. 

"Have you always lived at home, Aglaya Ivanovna?" he asked. "I mean, have you never been to school, or college, or anything?"

"No--never--nowhere! I've been at home all my life, corked up in abottle; and they expect me to be married straight out of it. What areyou laughing at again? I observe that you, too, have taken to laughingat me, and range yourself on their side against me, " she added, frowningangrily. "Don't irritate me--I'm bad enough without that--I don't knowwhat I am doing sometimes. I am persuaded that you came here today inthe full belief that I am in love with you, and that I arranged thismeeting because of that, " she cried, with annoyance. 

"I admit I was afraid that that was the case, yesterday, " blundered theprince (he was rather confused), "but today I am quite convinced that--"

"How?" cried Aglaya--and her lower lip trembled violently. "You wereAFRAID that I--you dared to think that I--good gracious! you suspected, perhaps, that I sent for you to come here in order to catch you in atrap, so that they should find us here together, and make you marryme--"

"Aglaya Ivanovna, aren't you ashamed of saying such a thing? How couldsuch a horrible idea enter your sweet, innocent heart? I am certain youdon't believe a word of what you say, and probably you don't even knowwhat you are talking about. "

Aglaya sat with her eyes on the ground; she seemed to have alarmed evenherself by what she had said. 

"No, I'm not; I'm not a bit ashamed!" she murmured. "And how do youknow my heart is innocent? And how dared you send me a love--letter thattime?"

"LOVE-LETTER? My letter a love-letter? That letter was the mostrespectful of letters; it went straight from my heart, at what wasperhaps the most painful moment of my life! I thought of you at the timeas a kind of light. I--"

"Well, very well, very well!" she said, but quite in a different tone. She was remorseful now, and bent forward to touch his shoulder, thoughstill trying not to look him in the face, as if the more persuasivelyto beg him not to be angry with her. "Very well, " she continued, lookingthoroughly ashamed of herself, "I feel that I said a very foolish thing. I only did it just to try you. Take it as unsaid, and if I offended you, forgive me. Don't look straight at me like that, please; turn your headaway. You called it a 'horrible idea'; I only said it to shock you. Very often I am myself afraid of saying what I intend to say, and out itcomes all the same. You have just told me that you wrote that letter atthe most painful moment of your life. I know what moment that was!" sheadded softly, looking at the ground again. 

"Oh, if you could know all!"

"I DO know all!" she cried, with another burst of indignation. "You wereliving in the same house as that horrible woman with whom you ran away. "She did not blush as she said this; on the contrary, she grew pale, and started from her seat, apparently oblivious of what she did, andimmediately sat down again. Her lip continued to tremble for a longtime. 

There was silence for a moment. The prince was taken aback by thesuddenness of this last reply, and did not know to what he shouldattribute it. 

"I don't love you a bit!" she said suddenly, just as though the wordshad exploded from her mouth. 

The prince did not answer, and there was silence again. "I love GavrilaArdalionovitch, " she said, quickly; but hardly audibly, and with herhead bent lower than ever. 

"That is NOT true, " said the prince, in an equally low voice. 

"What! I tell stories, do I? It is true! I gave him my promise a coupleof days ago on this very seat. "

The prince was startled, and reflected for a moment. 

"It is not true, " he repeated, decidedly; "you have just invented it!"

"You are wonderfully polite. You know he is greatly improved. He lovesme better than his life. He let his hand burn before my very eyes inorder to prove to me that he loved me better than his life!"

"He burned his hand!"

"Yes, believe it or not! It's all the same to me!"

The prince sat silent once more. Aglaya did not seem to be joking; shewas too angry for that. 

"What! he brought a candle with him to this place? That is, if theepisode happened here; otherwise I can't. "

"Yes, a candle! What's there improbable about that?"

"A whole one, and in a candlestick?"

"Yes--no-half a candle--an end, you know--no, it was a whole candle;it's all the same. Be quiet, can't you! He brought a box of matches too, if you like, and then lighted the candle and held his finger in it forhalf an hour and more!--There! Can't that be?"

"I saw him yesterday, and his fingers were all right!"

Aglaya suddenly burst out laughing, as simply as a child. 

"Do you know why I have just told you these lies?" She appealed to theprince, of a sudden, with the most childlike candour, and with thelaugh still trembling on her lips. "Because when one tells a lie, if oneinsists on something unusual and eccentric--something too 'out of theway'' for anything, you know--the more impossible the thing is, the moreplausible does the lie sound. I've noticed this. But I managed it badly;I didn't know how to work it. " She suddenly frowned again at this pointas though at some sudden unpleasant recollection. 

"If"--she began, looking seriously and even sadly at him--"if when Iread you all that about the 'poor knight, ' I wished to-to praise youfor one thing--I also wished to show you that I knew all--and did notapprove of your conduct. "

"You are very unfair to me, and to that unfortunate woman of whom youspoke just now in such dreadful terms, Aglaya. "

"Because I know all, all--and that is why I speak so. I know very wellhow you--half a year since--offered her your hand before everybody. Don't interrupt me. You see, I am merely stating facts without anycomment upon them. After that she ran away with Rogojin. Then you livedwith her at some village or town, and she ran away from you. " (Aglayablushed dreadfully. ) "Then she returned to Rogojin again, who lovesher like a madman. Then you--like a wise man as you are--came back hereafter her as soon as ever you heard that she had returned to Petersburg. Yesterday evening you sprang forward to protect her, and just now youdreamed about her. You see, I know all. You did come back here for her, for her--now didn't you?"

"Yes--for her!" said the prince softly and sadly, and bending his headdown, quite unconscious of the fact that Aglaya was gazing at him witheyes which burned like live coals. "I came to find out something--Idon't believe in her future happiness as Rogojin's wife, although--in aword, I did not know how to help her or what to do for her--but I came, on the chance. "

He glanced at Aglaya, who was listening with a look of hatred on herface. 

"If you came without knowing why, I suppose you love her very muchindeed!" she said at last. 

"No, " said the prince, "no, I do not love her. Oh! if you only knew withwhat horror I recall the time I spent with her!"

A shudder seemed to sweep over his whole body at the recollection. 

"Tell me about it, " said Aglaya. 

"There is nothing which you might not hear. Why I should wish to tellyou, and only you, this experience of mine, I really cannot say;perhaps it really is because I love you very much. This unhappy woman ispersuaded that she is the most hopeless, fallen creature in the world. Oh, do not condemn her! Do not cast stones at her! She has suffered toomuch already in the consciousness of her own undeserved shame. 

"And she is not guilty--oh God!--Every moment she bemoans and bewailsherself, and cries out that she does not admit any guilt, that she isthe victim of circumstances--the victim of a wicked libertine. 

"But whatever she may say, remember that she does not believe itherself, --remember that she will believe nothing but that she is aguilty creature. 

"When I tried to rid her soul of this gloomy fallacy, she suffered soterribly that my heart will never be quite at peace so long as I canremember that dreadful time!--Do you know why she left me? Simply toprove to me what is not true--that she is base. But the worst of it is, she did not realize herself that that was all she wanted to prove byher departure! She went away in response to some inner prompting todo something disgraceful, in order that she might say toherself--'There--you've done a new act of shame--you degraded creature!'

"Oh, Aglaya--perhaps you cannot understand all this. Try to realize thatin the perpetual admission of guilt she probably finds some dreadfulunnatural satisfaction--as though she were revenging herself uponsomeone. 

"Now and then I was able to persuade her almost to see light aroundher again; but she would soon fall, once more, into her old tormentingdelusions, and would go so far as to reproach me for placing myself on apedestal above her (I never had an idea of such a thing!), and informedme, in reply to my proposal of marriage, that she 'did not wantcondescending sympathy or help from anybody. ' You saw her last night. You don't suppose she can be happy among such people as those--youcannot suppose that such society is fit for her? You have no idea howwell-educated she is, and what an intellect she has! She astonished mesometimes. "

"And you preached her sermons there, did you?"

"Oh no, " continued the prince thoughtfully, not noticing Aglaya'smocking tone, "I was almost always silent there. I often wished tospeak, but I really did not know what to say. In some cases it is bestto say nothing, I think. I loved her, yes, I loved her very much indeed;but afterwards--afterwards she guessed all. "

"What did she guess?"

"That I only PITIED her--and--and loved her no longer!"

"How do you know that? How do you know that she is not really in lovewith that--that rich cad--the man she eloped with?"

"Oh no! I know she only laughs at him; she has made a fool of him allalong. "

"Has she never laughed at you?"

"No--in anger, perhaps. Oh yes! she reproached me dreadfully in anger;and suffered herself, too! But afterwards--oh! don't remind me--don'tremind me of that!"

He hid his face in his hands. 

"Are you aware that she writes to me almost every day?"

"So that is true, is it?" cried the prince, greatly agitated. "I hadheard a report of it, but would not believe it. "

"Whom did you hear it from?" asked Aglaya, alarmed. "Rogojin saidsomething about it yesterday, but nothing definite. "

"Yesterday! Morning or evening? Before the music or after?"

"After--it was about twelve o'clock. "

"Ah! Well, if it was Rogojin--but do you know what she writes to meabout?"

"I should not be surprised by anything. She is mad!"

"There are the letters. " (Aglaya took three letters out of her pocketand threw them down before the prince. ) "For a whole week she has beenentreating and worrying and persuading me to marry you. She--well, sheis clever, though she may be mad--much cleverer than I am, as you say. Well, she writes that she is in love with me herself, and tries to seeme every day, if only from a distance. She writes that you love me, and that she has long known it and seen it, and that you and she talkedabout me--there. She wishes to see you happy, and she says that she iscertain only I can ensure you the happiness you deserve. She writes suchstrange, wild letters--I haven't shown them to anyone. Now, do you knowwhat all this means? Can you guess anything?"

"It is madness--it is merely another proof of her insanity!" said theprince, and his lips trembled. 

"You are crying, aren't you?"

"No, Aglaya. No, I'm not crying. " The prince looked at her. 

"Well, what am I to do? What do you advise me? I cannot go on receivingthese letters, you know. "

"Oh, let her alone, I entreat you!" cried the prince. "What can you do inthis dark, gloomy mystery? Let her alone, and I'll use all my power toprevent her writing you any more letters. "

"If so, you are a heartless man!" cried Aglaya. "As if you can't see thatit is not myself she loves, but you, you, and only you! Surely you havenot remarked everything else in her, and only not THIS? Do you know whatthese letters mean? They mean jealousy, sir--nothing but pure jealousy!She--do you think she will ever really marry this Rogojin, as she sayshere she will? She would take her own life the day after you and I weremarried. "

The prince shuddered; his heart seemed to freeze within him. He gazedat Aglaya in wonderment; it was difficult for him to realize that thischild was also a woman. 

"God knows, Aglaya, that to restore her peace of mind and make her happyI would willingly give up my life. But I cannot love her, and she knowsthat. "

"Oh, make a sacrifice of yourself! That sort of thing becomes you well, you know. Why not do it? And don't call me 'Aglaya'; you have done itseveral times lately. You are bound, it is your DUTY to 'raise' her; youmust go off somewhere again to soothe and pacify her. Why, you love her, you know!"

"I cannot sacrifice myself so, though I admit I did wish to do so once. Who knows, perhaps I still wish to! But I know for CERTAIN, that if shemarried me it would be her ruin; I know this and therefore I leave heralone. I ought to go to see her today; now I shall probably not go. Sheis proud, she would never forgive me the nature of the love I bear her, and we should both be ruined. This may be unnatural, I don't know; buteverything seems unnatural. You say she loves me, as if this were LOVE!As if she could love ME, after what I have been through! No, no, it isnot love. "

"How pale you have grown!" cried Aglaya in alarm. 

"Oh, it's nothing. I haven't slept, that's all, and I'm rather tired. I--we certainly did talk about you, Aglaya. "

"Oh, indeed, it is true then! _You could actually talk about me with her_;and--and how could you have been fond of me when you had only seen meonce?"

"I don't know. Perhaps it was that I seemed to come upon light in themidst of my gloom. I told you the truth when I said I did not know why Ithought of you before all others. Of course it was all a sort of dream, a dream amidst the horrors of reality. Afterwards I began to work. I didnot intend to come back here for two or three years--"

"Then you came for her sake?" Aglaya's voice trembled. 

"Yes, I came for her sake. "

There was a moment or two of gloomy silence. Aglaya rose from her seat. 

"If you say, " she began in shaky tones, "if you say that this womanof yours is mad--at all events I have nothing to do with her insanefancies. Kindly take these three letters, Lef Nicolaievitch, and throwthem back to her, from me. And if she dares, " cried Aglaya suddenly, much louder than before, "if she dares so much as write me one wordagain, tell her I shall tell my father, and that she shall be taken to alunatic asylum. "

The prince jumped up in alarm at Aglaya's sudden wrath, and a mistseemed to come before his eyes. 

"You cannot really feel like that! You don't mean what you say. It isnot true, " he murmured. 

"It IS true, it IS true, " cried Aglaya, almost beside herself with rage. 

"What's true? What's all this? What's true?" said an alarmed voice justbeside them. 

Before them stood Lizabetha Prokofievna. 

"Why, it's true that I am going to marry Gavrila Ardalionovitch, that Ilove him and intend to elope with him tomorrow, " cried Aglaya, turningupon her mother. "Do you hear? Is your curiosity satisfied? Are youpleased with what you have heard?"

Aglaya rushed away homewards with these words. 

"H'm! well, YOU are not going away just yet, my friend, at all events, "said Lizabetha, stopping the prince. "Kindly step home with me, and letme have a little explanation of the mystery. Nice goings on, these! Ihaven't slept a wink all night as it is. "

The prince followed her. 

IX. 

ARRIVED at her house, Lizabetha Prokofievna paused in the first room. She could go no farther, and subsided on to a couch quite exhausted; toofeeble to remember so much as to ask the prince to take a seat. This wasa large reception-room, full of flowers, and with a glass door leadinginto the garden. 

Alexandra and Adelaida came in almost immediately, and lookedinquiringly at the prince and their mother. 

The girls generally rose at about nine in the morning in the country;Aglaya, of late, had been in the habit of getting up rather earlier andhaving a walk in the garden, but not at seven o'clock; about eight or alittle later was her usual time. 

Lizabetha Prokofievna, who really had not slept all night, rose at abouteight on purpose to meet Aglaya in the garden and walk with her; but shecould not find her either in the garden or in her own room. 

This agitated the old lady considerably; and she awoke her otherdaughters. Next, she learned from the maid that Aglaya had gone intothe park before seven o'clock. The sisters made a joke of Aglaya's lastfreak, and told their mother that if she went into the park to lookfor her, Aglaya would probably be very angry with her, and that she waspretty sure to be sitting reading on the green bench that she had talkedof two or three days since, and about which she had nearly quarrelledwith Prince S. , who did not see anything particularly lovely in it. 

Arrived at the rendezvous of the prince and her daughter, and hearingthe strange words of the latter, Lizabetha Prokofievna had beendreadfully alarmed, for many reasons. However, now that she had draggedthe prince home with her, she began to feel a little frightened at whatshe had undertaken. Why should not Aglaya meet the prince in thepark and have a talk with him, even if such a meeting should be byappointment?

"Don't suppose, prince, " she began, bracing herself up for the effort, "don't suppose that I have brought you here to ask questions. After lastnight, I assure you, I am not so exceedingly anxious to see you at all;I could have postponed the pleasure for a long while. " She paused. 

"But at the same time you would be very glad to know how I happened tomeet Aglaya Ivanovna this morning?" The prince finished her speech forher with the utmost composure. 

"Well, what then? Supposing I should like to know?" cried LizabethaProkofievna, blushing. "I'm sure I am not afraid of plain speaking. I'mnot offending anyone, and I never wish to, and--"

"Pardon me, it is no offence to wish to know this; you are hermother. We met at the green bench this morning, punctually at seveno'clock, --according to an agreement made by Aglaya Ivanovna with myselfyesterday. She said that she wished to see me and speak to me aboutsomething important. We met and conversed for an hour about mattersconcerning Aglaya Ivanovna herself, and that's all. "

"Of course it is all, my friend. I don't doubt you for a moment, " saidLizabetha Prokofievna with dignity. 

"Well done, prince, capital!" cried Aglaya, who entered the room atthis moment. "Thank you for assuming that I would not demean myselfwith lies. Come, is that enough, mamma, or do you intend to put any morequestions?"

"You know I have never needed to blush before you, up to this day, though perhaps you would have been glad enough to make me, " saidLizabetha Prokofievna, --with majesty. "Good-bye, prince; forgive me forbothering you. I trust you will rest assured of my unalterable esteemfor you. "

The prince made his bows and retired at once. Alexandra and Adelaidasmiled and whispered to each other, while Lizabetha Prokofievna glaredseverely at them. "We are only laughing at the prince's beautiful bows, mamma, " said Adelaida. "Sometimes he bows just like a meal-sack, butto-day he was like--like Evgenie Pavlovitch!"

"It is the HEART which is the best teacher of refinement and dignity, not the dancing-master, " said her mother, sententiously, and departedupstairs to her own room, not so much as glancing at Aglaya. 

When the prince reached home, about nine o'clock, he found Vera Lebedeffand the maid on the verandah. They were both busy trying to tidy up theplace after last night's disorderly party. 

"Thank goodness, we've just managed to finish it before you came in!"said Vera, joyfully. 

"Good-morning! My head whirls so; I didn't sleep all night. I shouldlike to have a nap now. "

"Here, on the verandah? Very well, I'll tell them all not to come andwake you. Papa has gone out somewhere. "

The servant left the room. Vera was about to follow her, but returnedand approached the prince with a preoccupied air. 

"Prince!" she said, "have pity on that poor boy; don't turn him outtoday. "

"Not for the world; he shall do just as he likes. "

"He won't do any harm now; and--and don't be too severe with him. "

"Oh dear no! Why--"

"And--and you won't LAUGH at him? That's the chief thing. "

"Oh no! Never. "

"How foolish I am to speak of such things to a man like you, " said Vera, blushing. "Though you _do_ look tired, " she added, half turning away, "your eyes are so splendid at this moment--so full of happiness. "

"Really?" asked the prince, gleefully, and he laughed in delight. 

But Vera, simple-minded little girl that she was (just like a boy, infact), here became dreadfully confused, of a sudden, and ran hastily outof the room, laughing and blushing. 

"What a dear little thing she is, " thought the prince, and immediatelyforgot all about her. 

He walked to the far end of the verandah, where the sofa stood, witha table in front of it. Here he sat down and covered his face with hishands, and so remained for ten minutes. Suddenly he put his hand in hiscoat-pocket and hurriedly produced three letters. 

But the door opened again, and out came Colia. 

The prince actually felt glad that he had been interrupted, --and mightreturn the letters to his pocket. He was glad of the respite. 

"Well, " said Colia, plunging in medias res, as he always did, "here'sa go! What do you think of Hippolyte now? Don't respect him any longer, eh?"

"Why not? But look here, Colia, I'm tired; besides, the subject is toomelancholy to begin upon again. How is he, though?"

"Asleep--he'll sleep for a couple of hours yet. I quiteunderstand--you haven't slept--you walked about the park, I know. Agitation--excitement--all that sort of thing--quite natural, too!"

"How do you know I walked in the park and didn't sleep at home?"

"Vera just told me. She tried to persuade me not to come, but I couldn'thelp myself, just for one minute. I have been having my turn at thebedside for the last two hours; Kostia Lebedeff is there now. Burdovskyhas gone. Now, lie down, prince, make yourself comfortable, and sleepwell! I'm awfully impressed, you know. "

"Naturally, all this--"

"No, no, I mean with the 'explanation, ' especially that part of it wherehe talks about Providence and a future life. There is a gigantic thoughtthere. "

The prince gazed affectionately at Colia, who, of course, had come insolely for the purpose of talking about this "gigantic thought. "

"But it is not any one particular thought, only; it is the generalcircumstances of the case. If Voltaire had written this now, orRousseau, I should have just read it and thought it remarkable, butshould not have been so IMPRESSED by it. But a man who knows forcertain that he has but ten minutes to live and can talk likethat--why--it's--it's PRIDE, that is! It is really a most extraordinary, exalted assertion of personal dignity, it's--it's DEFIANT! What aGIGANTIC strength of will, eh? And to accuse a fellow like that of notputting in the cap on purpose; it's base and mean! You know he deceivedus last night, the cunning rascal. I never packed his bag for him, andI never saw his pistol. He packed it himself. But he put me off my guardlike that, you see. Vera says you are going to let him stay on; I swearthere's no danger, especially as we are always with him. "

"Who was by him at night?"

"I, and Burdovsky, and Kostia Lebedeff. Keller stayed a little while, and then went over to Lebedeff's to sleep. Ferdishenko slept atLebedeff's, too; but he went away at seven o'clock. My father is alwaysat Lebedeff's; but he has gone out just now. I dare say Lebedeff will becoming in here directly; he has been looking for you; I don't know whathe wants. Shall we let him in or not, if you are asleep? I'm going tohave a nap, too. By-the-by, such a curious thing happened. Burdovskywoke me at seven, and I met my father just outside the room, so drunk, he didn't even know me. He stood before me like a log, and when herecovered himself, asked hurriedly how Hippolyte was. 'Yes, ' he said, when I told him, 'that's all very well, but I REALLY came to warn youthat you must be very careful what you say before Ferdishenko. ' Do youfollow me, prince?"

"Yes. Is it really so? However, it's all the same to us, of course. "

"Of course it is; we are not a secret society; and that being the case, it is all the more curious that the general should have been on his wayto wake me up in order to tell me this. "

"Ferdishenko has gone, you say?"

"Yes, he went at seven o'clock. He came into the room on his way out; Iwas watching just then. He said he was going to spend 'the rest of thenight' at Wilkin's; there's a tipsy fellow, a friend of his, of thatname. Well, I'm off. Oh, here's Lebedeff himself! The prince wants to goto sleep, Lukian Timofeyovitch, so you may just go away again. "

"One moment, my dear prince, just one. I must absolutely speak to youabout something which is most grave, " said Lebedeff, mysteriously andsolemnly, entering the room with a bow and looking extremely important. He had but just returned, and carried his hat in his hand. He lookedpreoccupied and most unusually dignified. 

The prince begged him to take a chair. 

"I hear you have called twice; I suppose you are still worried aboutyesterday's affair. "

"What, about that boy, you mean? Oh dear no, yesterday my ideas werea little--well--mixed. Today, I assure you, I shall not oppose in theslightest degree any suggestions it may please you to make. "

"What's up with you this morning, Lebedeff? You look so important anddignified, and you choose your words so carefully, " said the prince, smiling. 

"Nicolai Ardalionovitch!" said Lebedeff, in a most amiable tone ofvoice, addressing the boy. "As I have a communication to make to theprince which concerns only myself--"

"Of course, of course, not my affair. All right, " said Colia, and awayhe went. 

"I love that boy for his perception, " said Lebedeff, looking afterhim. "My dear prince, " he continued, "I have had a terrible misfortune, either last night or early this morning. I cannot tell the exact time. "

"What is it?"

"I have lost four hundred roubles out of my side pocket! They're gone!"said Lebedeff, with a sour smile. 

"You've lost four hundred roubles? Oh! I'm sorry for that. "

"Yes, it is serious for a poor man who lives by his toil. "

"Of course, of course! How was it?"

"Oh, the wine is to blame, of course. I confess to you, prince, as Iwould to Providence itself. Yesterday I received four hundred roublesfrom a debtor at about five in the afternoon, and came down here bytrain. I had my purse in my pocket. When I changed, I put the moneyinto the pocket of my plain clothes, intending to keep it by me, as Iexpected to have an applicant for it in the evening. "

"It's true then, Lebedeff, that you advertise to lend money on gold orsilver articles?"

"Yes, through an agent. My own name doesn't appear. I have a largefamily, you see, and at a small percentage--"

"Quite so, quite so. I only asked for information--excuse the question. Go on. "

"Well, meanwhile that sick boy was brought here, and those guests camein, and we had tea, and--well, we made merry--to my ruin! Hearing ofyour birthday afterwards, and excited with the circumstances of theevening, I ran upstairs and changed my plain clothes once more for myuniform [Civil Service clerks in Russia wear uniform. ]--you must havenoticed I had my uniform on all the evening? Well, I forgot the money inthe pocket of my old coat--you know when God will ruin a man he firstof all bereaves him of his senses--and it was only this morning athalf-past seven that I woke up and grabbed at my coat pocket, firstthing. The pocket was empty--the purse gone, and not a trace to befound!"

"Dear me! This is very unpleasant!"

"Unpleasant! Indeed it is. You have found a very appropriateexpression, " said Lebedeff, politely, but with sarcasm. 

"But what's to be done? It's a serious matter, " said the prince, thoughtfully. "Don't you think you may have dropped it out of yourpocket whilst intoxicated?"

"Certainly. Anything is possible when one is intoxicated, as you neatlyexpress it, prince. But consider--if I, intoxicated or not, dropped anobject out of my pocket on to the ground, that object ought to remain onthe ground. Where is the object, then?"

"Didn't you put it away in some drawer, perhaps?"

"I've looked everywhere, and turned out everything. "

"I confess this disturbs me a good deal. Someone must have picked it up, then. "

"Or taken it out of my pocket--two alternatives. "

"It is very distressing, because WHO--? That's the question!"

"Most undoubtedly, excellent prince, you have hit it--that is the veryquestion. How wonderfully you express the exact situation in a fewwords!"

"Come, come, Lebedeff, no sarcasm! It's a serious--"

"Sarcasm!" cried Lebedeff, wringing his hands. "All right, all right, I'm not angry. I'm only put out about this. Whom do you suspect?"

"That is a very difficult and complicated question. I cannot suspect theservant, for she was in the kitchen the whole evening, nor do I suspectany of my children. "

"I should think not. Go on. "

"Then it must be one of the guests. "

"Is such a thing possible?"

"Absolutely and utterly impossible--and yet, so it must be. But onething I am sure of, if it be a theft, it was committed, not in theevening when we were all together, but either at night or early in themorning; therefore, by one of those who slept here. Burdovsky and ColiaI except, of course. They did not even come into my room. "

"Yes, or even if they had! But who did sleep with you?"

"Four of us, including myself, in two rooms. The general, myself, Keller, and Ferdishenko. One of us four it must have been. I don'tsuspect myself, though such cases have been known. "

"Oh! _do_ go on, Lebedeff! Don't drag it out so. "

"Well, there are three left, then--Keller firstly. He is a drunkardto begin with, and a liberal (in the sense of other people's pockets), otherwise with more of the ancient knight about him than of the modernliberal. He was with the sick man at first, but came over afterwardsbecause there was no place to lie down in the room and the floor was sohard. "

"You suspect him?"

"I DID suspect him. When I woke up at half-past seven and tore my hairin despair for my loss and carelessness, I awoke the general, who wassleeping the sleep of innocence near me. Taking into consideration thesudden disappearance of Ferdishenko, which was suspicious in itself, wedecided to search Keller, who was lying there sleeping like a top. Well, we searched his clothes thoroughly, and not a farthing did we find; infact, his pockets all had holes in them. We found a dirty handkerchief, and a love-letter from some scullery-maid. The general decided that hewas innocent. We awoke him for further inquiries, and had the greatestdifficulty in making him understand what was up. He opened his mouth andstared--he looked so stupid and so absurdly innocent. It wasn't Keller. "

"Oh, I'm so glad!" said the prince, joyfully. "I was so afraid. "

"Afraid! Then you had some grounds for supposing he might be theculprit?" said Lebedeff, frowning. 

"Oh no--not a bit! It was foolish of me to say I was afraid! Don'trepeat it please, Lebedeff, don't tell anyone I said that!"

"My dear prince! your words lie in the lowest depth of my heart--it istheir tomb!" said Lebedeff, solemnly, pressing his hat to the region ofhis heart. 

"Thanks; very well. Then I suppose it's Ferdishenko; that is, I mean, you suspect Ferdishenko?"

"Whom else?" said Lebedeff, softly, gazing intently into the prince sface. 

"Of course--quite so, whom else? But what are the proofs?"

"We have evidence. In the first place, his mysterious disappearance atseven o'clock, or even earlier. "

"I know, Colia told me that he had said he was off to--I forget thename, some friend of his, to finish the night. "

"H'm! then Colia has spoken to you already?"

"Not about the theft. "

"He does not know of it; I have kept it a secret. Very well, Ferdishenkowent off to Wilkin's. That is not so curious in itself, but here theevidence opens out further. He left his address, you see, when he went. Now prince, consider, why did he leave his address? Why do you supposehe went out of his way to tell Colia that he had gone to Wilkin's? Whocared to know that he was going to Wilkin's? No, no! prince, this isfinesse, thieves' finesse! This is as good as saying, 'There, how can Ibe a thief when I leave my address? I'm not concealing my movements as athief would. ' Do you understand, prince?"

"Oh yes, but that is not enough. "

"Second proof. The scent turns out to be false, and the address givenis a sham. An hour after--that is at about eight, I went to Wilkin'smyself, and there was no trace of Ferdishenko. The maid did tell me, certainly, that an hour or so since someone had been hammering at thedoor, and had smashed the bell; she said she would not open the doorbecause she didn't want to wake her master; probably she was too lazy toget up herself. Such phenomena are met with occasionally!"

"But is that all your evidence? It is not enough!"

"Well, prince, whom are we to suspect, then? Consider!" said Lebedeffwith almost servile amiability, smiling at the prince. There was a lookof cunning in his eyes, however. 

"You should search your room and all the cupboards again, " said theprince, after a moment or two of silent reflection. 

"But I have done so, my dear prince!" said Lebedeff, more sweetly thanever. 

"H'm! why must you needs go up and change your coat like that?" askedthe prince, banging the table with his fist, in annoyance. 

"Oh, don't be so worried on my account, prince! I assure you I am notworth it! At least, not I alone. But I see you are suffering on behalfof the criminal too, for wretched Ferdishenko, in fact!"

"Of course you have given me a disagreeable enough thing to thinkabout, " said the prince, irritably, "but what are you going to do, sinceyou are so sure it was Ferdishenko?"

"But who else COULD it be, my very dear prince?" repeated Lebedeff, assweet as sugar again. "If you don't wish me to suspect Mr. Burdovsky?"

"Of course not. "

"Nor the general? Ha, ha, ha!"

"Nonsense!" said the prince, angrily, turning round upon him. 

"Quite so, nonsense! Ha, ha, ha! dear me! He did amuse me, did thegeneral! We went off on the hot scent to Wilkin's together, you know;but I must first observe that the general was even more thunderstruckthan I myself this morning, when I awoke him after discovering thetheft; so much so that his very face changed--he grew red and then pale, and at length flew into a paroxysm of such noble wrath that I assure youI was quite surprised! He is a most generous-hearted man! He tells liesby the thousands, I know, but it is merely a weakness; he is a man ofthe highest feelings; a simple-minded man too, and a man who carries theconviction of innocence in his very appearance. I love that man, sir; Imay have told you so before; it is a weakness of mine. Well--he suddenlystopped in the middle of the road, opened out his coat and bared hisbreast. 'Search me, ' he says, 'you searched Keller; why don't you searchme too? It is only fair!' says he. " And all the while his legs and handswere trembling with anger, and he as white as a sheet all over! So Isaid to him, "Nonsense, general; if anybody but yourself had said thatto me, I'd have taken my head, my own head, and put it on a large dishand carried it round to anyone who suspected you; and I should havesaid: 'There, you see that head? It's my head, and I'll go bail withthat head for him! Yes, and walk through the fire for him, too. There, 'says I, 'that's how I'd answer for you, general!' Then he embraced me, in the middle of the street, and hugged me so tight (crying over me allthe while) that I coughed fit to choke! 'You are the one friend left tome amid all my misfortunes, ' says he. Oh, he's a man of sentiment, that!He went on to tell me a story of how he had been accused, or suspected, of stealing five hundred thousand roubles once, as a young man; and how, the very next day, he had rushed into a burning, blazing house and savedthe very count who suspected him, and Nina Alexandrovna (who was thena young girl), from a fiery death. The count embraced him, and that washow he came to marry Nina Alexandrovna, he said. As for the money, itwas found among the ruins next day in an English iron box with a secretlock; it had got under the floor somehow, and if it had not been for thefire it would never have been found! The whole thing is, of course, anabsolute fabrication, though when he spoke of Nina Alexandrovna he wept!She's a grand woman, is Nina Alexandrovna, though she is very angry withme!"

"Are you acquainted with her?"

"Well, hardly at all. I wish I were, if only for the sake of justifyingmyself in her eyes. Nina Alexandrovna has a grudge against me for, asshe thinks, encouraging her husband in drinking; whereas in reality Inot only do not encourage him, but I actually keep him out of harm'sway, and out of bad company. Besides, he's my friend, prince, so thatI shall not lose sight of him, again. Where he goes, I go. He's quitegiven up visiting the captain's widow, though sometimes he thinks sadlyof her, especially in the morning, when he's putting on his boots. Idon't know why it's at that time. But he has no money, and it's nouse his going to see her without. Has he borrowed any money from you, prince?"

"No, he has not. "

"Ah, he's ashamed to! He MEANT to ask you, I know, for he said so. Isuppose he thinks that as you gave him some once (you remember), youwould probably refuse if he asked you again. "

"Do you ever give him money?"

"Prince! Money! Why I would give that man not only my money, but myvery life, if he wanted it. Well, perhaps that's exaggeration; not life, we'll say, but some illness, a boil or a bad cough, or anything of thatsort, I would stand with pleasure, for his sake; for I consider him agreat man fallen--money, indeed!"

"H'm, then you DO give him money?"

"N-no, I have never given him money, and he knows well that I will nevergive him any; because I am anxious to keep him out of intemperateways. He is going to town with me now; for you must know I am off toPetersburg after Ferdishenko, while the scent is hot; I'm certain he isthere. I shall let the general go one way, while I go the other; we haveso arranged matters in order to pop out upon Ferdishenko, you see, fromdifferent sides. But I am going to follow that naughty old general andcatch him, I know where, at a certain widow's house; for I think it willbe a good lesson, to put him to shame by catching him with the widow. "

"Oh, Lebedeff, don't, don't make any scandal about it!" said the prince, much agitated, and speaking in a low voice. 

"Not for the world, not for the world! I merely wish to make him ashamedof himself. Oh, prince, great though this misfortune be to myself, Icannot help thinking of his morals! I have a great favour to ask of you, esteemed prince; I confess that it is the chief object of my visit. Youknow the Ivolgins, you have even lived in their house; so if you wouldlend me your help, honoured prince, in the general's own interest andfor his good. "

Lebedeff clasped his hands in supplication. 

"What help do you want from me? You may be certain that I am mostanxious to understand you, Lebedeff. "

"I felt sure of that, or I should not have come to you. We might manageit with the help of Nina Alexandrovna, so that he might be closelywatched in his own house. Unfortunately I am not on terms. . . Otherwise. . . But Nicolai Ardalionovitch, who adores you with all hisyouthful soul, might help, too. "

"No, no! Heaven forbid that we should bring Nina Alexandrovna into thisbusiness! Or Colia, either. But perhaps I have not yet quite understoodyou, Lebedeff?"

Lebedeff made an impatient movement. 

"But there is nothing to understand! Sympathy and tenderness, thatis all--that is all our poor invalid requires! You will permit me toconsider him an invalid?"

"Yes, it shows delicacy and intelligence on your part. "

"I will explain my idea by a practical example, to make it clearer. Youknow the sort of man he is. At present his only failing is that he iscrazy about that captain's widow, and he cannot go to her withoutmoney, and I mean to catch him at her house today--for his own good; butsupposing it was not only the widow, but that he had committed a realcrime, or at least some very dishonourable action (of which he is, ofcourse, incapable), I repeat that even in that case, if he were treatedwith what I may call generous tenderness, one could get at the wholetruth, for he is very soft-hearted! Believe me, he would betray himselfbefore five days were out; he would burst into tears, and make a cleanbreast of the matter; especially if managed with tact, and if you andhis family watched his every step, so to speak. Oh, my dear prince, "Lebedeff added most emphatically, "I do not positively assert that hehas. . . I am ready, as the saying is, to shed my last drop of blood forhim this instant; but you will admit that debauchery, drunkenness, andthe captain's widow, all these together may lead him very far. "

"I am, of course, quite ready to add my efforts to yours in such acase, " said the prince, rising; "but I confess, Lebedeff, that I amterribly perplexed. Tell me, do you still think. . . Plainly, you sayyourself that you suspect Mr. Ferdishenko?"

Lebedeff clasped his hands once more. 

"Why, who else could I possibly suspect? Who else, most outspokenprince?" he replied, with an unctuous smile. 

Muishkin frowned, and rose from his seat. 

"You see, Lebedeff, a mistake here would be a dreadful thing. ThisFerdishenko, I would not say a word against him, of course; but, whoknows? Perhaps it really was he? I mean he really does seem to be a morelikely man than. . . Than any other. "

Lebedeff strained his eyes and ears to take in what the prince wassaying. The latter was frowning more and more, and walking excitedly upand down, trying not to look at Lebedeff. 

"You see, " he said, "I was given to understand that Ferdishenko was thatsort of man, --that one can't say everything before him. One has to takecare not to say too much, you understand? I say this to prove that hereally is, so to speak, more likely to have done this than anyone else, eh? You understand? The important thing is, not to make a mistake. "

"And who told you this about Ferdishenko?"

"Oh, I was told. Of course I don't altogether believe it. I am verysorry that I should have had to say this, because I assure you I don'tbelieve it myself; it is all nonsense, of course. It was stupid of me tosay anything about it. "

"You see, it is very important, it is most important to know where yougot this report from, " said Lebedeff, excitedly. He had risen from hisseat, and was trying to keep step with the prince, running after him, upand down. "Because look here, prince, I don't mind telling you now thatas we were going along to Wilkin's this morning, after telling me whatyou know about the fire, and saving the count and all that, the generalwas pleased to drop certain hints to the same effect about Ferdishenko, but so vaguely and clumsily that I thought better to put a few questionsto him on the matter, with the result that I found the whole thing wasan invention of his excellency's own mind. Of course, he only lies withthe best intentions; still, he lies. But, such being the case, wherecould you have heard the same report? It was the inspiration of themoment with him, you understand, so who could have told YOU? It is animportant question, you see!"

"It was Colia told me, and his father told HIM at about six thismorning. They met at the threshold, when Colia was leaving the room forsomething or other. " The prince told Lebedeff all that Colia had madeknown to himself, in detail. 

"There now, that's what we may call SCENT!" said Lebedeff, rubbing hishands and laughing silently. "I thought it must be so, you see. Thegeneral interrupted his innocent slumbers, at six o'clock, in orderto go and wake his beloved son, and warn him of the dreadful danger ofcompanionship with Ferdishenko. Dear me! what a dreadfully dangerous manFerdishenko must be, and what touching paternal solicitude, on the partof his excellency, ha! ha! ha!"

"Listen, Lebedeff, " began the prince, quite overwhelmed; "DO actquietly--don't make a scandal, Lebedeff, I ask you--I entreat you! Noone must know--NO ONE, mind! In that case only, I will help you. "

"Be assured, most honourable, most worthy of princes--be assured thatthe whole matter shall be buried within my heart!" cried Lebedeff, in aparoxysm of exaltation. "I'd give every drop of my blood. . . Illustriousprince, I am a poor wretch in soul and spirit, but ask the veriestscoundrel whether he would prefer to deal with one like himself, or witha noble-hearted man like you, and there is no doubt as to his choice!He'll answer that he prefers the noble-hearted man--and there youhave the triumph of virtue! Au revoir, honoured prince! You and Itogether--softly! softly!"

X. 

THE prince understood at last why he shivered with dread every timehe thought of the three letters in his pocket, and why he had put offreading them until the evening. 

When he fell into a heavy sleep on the sofa on the verandah, withouthaving had the courage to open a single one of the three envelopes, heagain dreamed a painful dream, and once more that poor, "sinful" womanappeared to him. Again she gazed at him with tears sparkling on her longlashes, and beckoned him after her; and again he awoke, as before, withthe picture of her face haunting him. 

He longed to get up and go to her at once--but he COULD NOT. At length, almost in despair, he unfolded the letters, and began to read them. 

These letters, too, were like a dream. We sometimes have strange, impossible dreams, contrary to all the laws of nature. When we awake weremember them and wonder at their strangeness. You remember, perhaps, that you were in full possession of your reason during this successionof fantastic images; even that you acted with extraordinary logic andcunning while surrounded by murderers who hid their intentions and madegreat demonstrations of friendship, while waiting for an opportunityto cut your throat. You remember how you escaped them by some ingeniousstratagem; then you doubted if they were really deceived, or whetherthey were only pretending not to know your hiding-place; then youthought of another plan and hoodwinked them once again. You remember allthis quite clearly, but how is it that your reason calmly accepted allthe manifest absurdities and impossibilities that crowded into yourdream? One of the murderers suddenly changed into a woman before yourvery eyes; then the woman was transformed into a hideous, cunning littledwarf; and you believed it, and accepted it all almost as a matter ofcourse--while at the same time your intelligence seemed unusually keen, and accomplished miracles of cunning, sagacity, and logic! Why is itthat when you awake to the world of realities you nearly always feel, sometimes very vividly, that the vanished dream has carried with it someenigma which you have failed to solve? You smile at the extravaganceof your dream, and yet you feel that this tissue of absurdity containedsome real idea, something that belongs to your true life, --somethingthat exists, and has always existed, in your heart. You search yourdream for some prophecy that you were expecting. It has left a deepimpression upon you, joyful or cruel, but what it means, or what hasbeen predicted to you in it, you can neither understand nor remember. 

The reading of these letters produced some such effect upon the prince. He felt, before he even opened the envelopes, that the very fact oftheir existence was like a nightmare. How could she ever have made upher mind to write to her? he asked himself. How could she write aboutthat at all? And how could such a wild idea have entered her head?And yet, the strangest part of the matter was, that while he read theletters, he himself almost believed in the possibility, and even in thejustification, of the idea he had thought so wild. Of course it was amad dream, a nightmare, and yet there was something cruelly real aboutit. For hours he was haunted by what he had read. Several passagesreturned again and again to his mind, and as he brooded over them, hefelt inclined to say to himself that he had foreseen and known all thatwas written here; it even seemed to him that he had read the whole ofthis some time or other, long, long ago; and all that had tormented andgrieved him up to now was to be found in these old, long since read, letters. 

"When you open this letter" (so the first began), "look first at thesignature. The signature will tell you all, so that I need explainnothing, nor attempt to justify myself. Were I in any way on a footingwith you, you might be offended at my audacity; but who am I, and whoare you? We are at such extremes, and I am so far removed from you, thatI could not offend you if I wished to do so. "

Farther on, in another place, she wrote: "Do not consider my wordsas the sickly ecstasies of a diseased mind, but you are, in myopinion--perfection! I have seen you--I see you every day. I do notjudge you; I have not weighed you in the scales of Reason and found youPerfection--it is simply an article of faith. But I must confess one sinagainst you--I love you. One should not love perfection. One shouldonly look on it as perfection--yet I am in love with you. Though loveequalizes, do not fear. I have not lowered you to my level, even inmy most secret thoughts. I have written 'Do not fear, ' as if you couldfear. I would kiss your footprints if I could; but, oh! I am not puttingmyself on a level with you!--Look at the signature--quick, look at thesignature!"

"However, observe" (she wrote in another of the letters), "that althoughI couple you with him, yet I have not once asked you whether you lovehim. He fell in love with you, though he saw you but once. He spoke ofyou as of 'the light. ' These are his own words--I heard him use them. But I understood without his saying it that you were all that light isto him. I lived near him for a whole month, and I understood then thatyou, too, must love him. I think of you and him as one. "

"What was the matter yesterday?" (she wrote on another sheet). "I passedby you, and you seemed to me to BLUSH. Perhaps it was only my fancy. If I were to bring you to the most loathsome den, and show you therevelation of undisguised vice--you should not blush. You can never feelthe sense of personal affront. You may hate all who are mean, or base, or unworthy--but not for yourself--only for those whom they wrong. Noone can wrong YOU. Do you know, I think you ought to love me--for youare the same in my eyes as in his-you are as light. An angel cannothate, perhaps cannot love, either. I often ask myself--is it possible tolove everybody? Indeed it is not; it is not in nature. Abstract loveof humanity is nearly always love of self. But you are different. Youcannot help loving all, since you can compare with none, and are aboveall personal offence or anger. Oh! how bitter it would be to me toknow that you felt anger or shame on my account, for that would be yourfall--you would become comparable at once with such as me. 

"Yesterday, after seeing you, I went home and thought out a picture. 

"Artists always draw the Saviour as an actor in one of the Gospelstories. I should do differently. I should represent Christ alone--thedisciples did leave Him alone occasionally. I should paint one littlechild left with Him. This child has been playing about near Him, andhad probably just been telling the Saviour something in its prettybaby prattle. Christ had listened to it, but was now musing--onehand reposing on the child's bright head. His eyes have a far-awayexpression. Thought, great as the Universe, is in them--His face is sad. The little one leans its elbow upon Christ's knee, and with its cheekresting on its hand, gazes up at Him, pondering as children sometimes doponder. The sun is setting. There you have my picture. 

"You are innocent--and in your innocence lies all your perfection--oh, remember that! What is my passion to you?--you are mine now; I shall benear you all my life--I shall not live long!"

At length, in the last letter of all, he found:

"For Heaven's sake, don't misunderstand me! Do not think that Ihumiliate myself by writing thus to you, or that I belong to that classof people who take a satisfaction in humiliating themselves--from pride. I have my consolation, though it would be difficult to explain it--but Ido not humiliate myself. 

"Why do I wish to unite you two? For your sakes or my own? For my ownsake, naturally. All the problems of my life would thus be solved;I have thought so for a long time. I know that once when your sisterAdelaida saw my portrait she said that such beauty could overthrowthe world. But I have renounced the world. You think it strange thatI should say so, for you saw me decked with lace and diamonds, in thecompany of drunkards and wastrels. Take no notice of that; I know thatI have almost ceased to exist. God knows what it is dwelling within menow--it is not myself. I can see it every day in two dreadful eyes whichare always looking at me, even when not present. These eyes are silentnow, they say nothing; but I know their secret. His house is gloomy, andthere is a secret in it. I am convinced that in some box he has a razorhidden, tied round with silk, just like the one that Moscow murdererhad. This man also lived with his mother, and had a razor hidden away, tied round with white silk, and with this razor he intended to cut athroat. 

"All the while I was in their house I felt sure that somewhere beneaththe floor there was hidden away some dreadful corpse, wrapped inoil-cloth, perhaps buried there by his father, who knows? Just as in theMoscow case. I could have shown you the very spot!

"He is always silent, but I know well that he loves me so much that hemust hate me. My wedding and yours are to be on the same day; so I havearranged with him. I have no secrets from him. I would kill him fromvery fright, but he will kill me first. He has just burst out laughing, and says that I am raving. He knows I am writing to you. "

There was much more of this delirious wandering in the letters--one ofthem was very long. 

At last the prince came out of the dark, gloomy park, in which he hadwandered about for hours just as yesterday. The bright night seemed tohim to be lighter than ever. "It must be quite early, " he thought. (Hehad forgotten his watch. ) There was a sound of distant music somewhere. "Ah, " he thought, "the Vauxhall! They won't be there today, of course!"At this moment he noticed that he was close to their house; he had feltthat he must gravitate to this spot eventually, and, with a beatingheart, he mounted the verandah steps. 

No one met him; the verandah was empty, and nearly pitch dark. He openedthe door into the room, but it, too, was dark and empty. He stood in themiddle of the room in perplexity. Suddenly the door opened, and in cameAlexandra, candle in hand. Seeing the prince she stopped before him insurprise, looking at him questioningly. 

It was clear that she had been merely passing through the room from doorto door, and had not had the remotest notion that she would meet anyone. 

"How did you come here?" she asked, at last. 

"I-I--came in--"

"Mamma is not very well, nor is Aglaya. Adelaida has gone to bed, andI am just going. We were alone the whole evening. Father and Prince S. Have gone to town. "

"I have come to you--now--to--"

"Do you know what time it is?"

"N--no!"

"Half-past twelve. We are always in bed by one. "

"I-I thought it was half-past nine!"

"Never mind!" she laughed, "but why didn't you come earlier? Perhaps youwere expected!"

"I thought" he stammered, making for the door. 

"Au revoir! I shall amuse them all with this story tomorrow!"

He walked along the road towards his own house. His heart was beating, his thoughts were confused, everything around seemed to be part of adream. 

And suddenly, just as twice already he had awaked from sleep with thesame vision, that very apparition now seemed to rise up before him. Thewoman appeared to step out from the park, and stand in the path in frontof him, as though she had been waiting for him there. 

He shuddered and stopped; she seized his hand and pressed it frenziedly. 

No, this was no apparition!

There she stood at last, face to face with him, for the first time sincetheir parting. 

She said something, but he looked silently back at her. His heart achedwith anguish. Oh! never would he banish the recollection of this meetingwith her, and he never remembered it but with the same pain and agony ofmind. 

She went on her knees before him--there in the open road--like amadwoman. He retreated a step, but she caught his hand and kissedit, and, just as in his dream, the tears were sparkling on her long, beautiful lashes. 

"Get up!" he said, in a frightened whisper, raising her. "Get up atonce!"

"Are you happy--are you happy?" she asked. "Say this one word. Are youhappy now? Today, this moment? Have you just been with her? What did shesay?"

She did not rise from her knees; she would not listen to him; she puther questions hurriedly, as though she were pursued. 

"I am going away tomorrow, as you bade me--I won't write--so that thisis the last time I shall see you, the last time! This is really the LASTTIME!"

"Oh, be calm--be calm! Get up!" he entreated, in despair. 

She gazed thirstily at him and clutched his hands. 

"Good-bye!" she said at last, and rose and left him, very quickly. 

The prince noticed that Rogojin had suddenly appeared at her side, andhad taken her arm and was leading her away. 

"Wait a minute, prince, " shouted the latter, as he went. "I shall beback in five minutes. "

He reappeared in five minutes as he had said. The prince was waiting forhim. 

"I've put her in the carriage, " he said; "it has been waiting round thecorner there since ten o'clock. She expected that you would be with THEMall the evening. I told her exactly what you wrote me. She won't writeto the girl any more, she promises; and tomorrow she will be off, as youwish. She desired to see you for the last time, although you refused, so we've been sitting and waiting on that bench till you should pass onyour way home. "

"Did she bring you with her of her own accord?"

"Of course she did!" said Rogojin, showing his teeth; "and I saw formyself what I knew before. You've read her letters, I suppose?"

"Did you read them?" asked the prince, struck by the thought. 

"Of course--she showed them to me herself. You are thinking of therazor, eh? Ha, ha, ha!"

"Oh, she is mad!" cried the prince, wringing his hands. "Who knows?Perhaps she is not so mad after all, " said Rogojin, softly, as thoughthinking aloud. 

The prince made no reply. 

"Well, good-bye, " said Rogojin. "I'm off tomorrow too, you know. Remember me kindly! By-the-by, " he added, turning round sharply again, "did you answer her question just now? Are you happy, or not?"

"No, no, no!" cried the prince, with unspeakable sadness. 

"Ha, ha! I never supposed you would say 'yes, '" cried Rogojin, laughingsardonically. 

And he disappeared, without looking round again. 

PART IV

I. 

A WEEK had elapsed since the rendezvous of our two friends on thegreen bench in the park, when, one fine morning at about half-past teno'clock, Varvara Ardalionovna, otherwise Mrs. Ptitsin, who had beenout to visit a friend, returned home in a state of considerable mentaldepression. 

There are certain people of whom it is difficult to say anything whichwill at once throw them into relief--in other words, describe themgraphically in their typical characteristics. These are they who aregenerally known as "commonplace people, " and this class comprises, ofcourse, the immense majority of mankind. Authors, as a rule, attempt toselect and portray types rarely met with in their entirety, but thesetypes are nevertheless more real than real life itself. 

"Podkoleosin" [A character in Gogol's comedy, The Wedding. ] was perhapsan exaggeration, but he was by no means a non-existent character; on thecontrary, how many intelligent people, after hearing of this Podkoleosinfrom Gogol, immediately began to find that scores of their friends wereexactly like him! They knew, perhaps, before Gogol told them, that theirfriends were like Podkoleosin, but they did not know what name to givethem. In real life, young fellows seldom jump out of the window justbefore their weddings, because such a feat, not to speak of its otheraspects, must be a decidedly unpleasant mode of escape; and yet thereare plenty of bridegrooms, intelligent fellows too, who would be readyto confess themselves Podkoleosins in the depths of their consciousness, just before marriage. Nor does every husband feel bound to repeatat every step, "Tu l'as voulu, Georges Dandin!" like another typicalpersonage; and yet how many millions and billions of Georges Dandinsthere are in real life who feel inclined to utter this soul-drawn cryafter their honeymoon, if not the day after the wedding! Therefore, without entering into any more serious examination of the question, Iwill content myself with remarking that in real life typical charactersare "watered down, " so to speak; and all these Dandins and Podkoleosinsactually exist among us every day, but in a diluted form. I will justadd, however, that Georges Dandin might have existed exactly as Molierepresented him, and probably does exist now and then, though rarely; andso I will end this scientific examination, which is beginning tolook like a newspaper criticism. But for all this, the questionremains, --what are the novelists to do with commonplace people, and howare they to be presented to the reader in such a form as to be inthe least degree interesting? They cannot be left out altogether, forcommonplace people meet one at every turn of life, and to leave them outwould be to destroy the whole reality and probability of the story. Tofill a novel with typical characters only, or with merely strange anduncommon people, would render the book unreal and improbable, andwould very likely destroy the interest. In my opinion, the duty of thenovelist is to seek out points of interest and instruction even in thecharacters of commonplace people. 

For instance, when the whole essence of an ordinary person's nature liesin his perpetual and unchangeable commonplaceness; and when in spite ofall his endeavours to do something out of the common, this person ends, eventually, by remaining in his unbroken line of routine--. I thinksuch an individual really does become a type of his own--a type ofcommonplaceness which will not for the world, if it can help it, be contented, but strains and yearns to be something original andindependent, without the slightest possibility of being so. Tothis class of commonplace people belong several characters in thisnovel;--characters which--I admit--I have not drawn very vividly up tonow for my reader's benefit. 

Such were, for instance, Varvara Ardalionovna Ptitsin, her husband, andher brother, Gania. 

There is nothing so annoying as to be fairly rich, of a fairly goodfamily, pleasing presence, average education, to be "not stupid, "kind-hearted, and yet to have no talent at all, no originality, not asingle idea of one's own--to be, in fact, "just like everyone else. "

Of such people there are countless numbers in this world--far more eventhan appear. They can be divided into two classes as all men can--thatis, those of limited intellect, and those who are much cleverer. Theformer of these classes is the happier. 

To a commonplace man of limited intellect, for instance, nothing issimpler than to imagine himself an original character, and to revel inthat belief without the slightest misgiving. 

Many of our young women have thought fit to cut their hair short, put onblue spectacles, and call themselves Nihilists. By doing this they havebeen able to persuade themselves, without further trouble, that theyhave acquired new convictions of their own. Some men have but felt somelittle qualm of kindness towards their fellow-men, and the fact hasbeen quite enough to persuade them that they stand alone in the van ofenlightenment and that no one has such humanitarian feelings as they. Others have but to read an idea of somebody else's, and they canimmediately assimilate it and believe that it was a child of their ownbrain. The "impudence of ignorance, " if I may use the expression, isdeveloped to a wonderful extent in such cases;--unlikely as it appears, it is met with at every turn. 

This confidence of a stupid man in his own talents has been wonderfullydepicted by Gogol in the amazing character of Pirogoff. Pirogoff hasnot the slightest doubt of his own genius, --nay, of his SUPERIORITY ofgenius, --so certain is he of it that he never questions it. Howmany Pirogoffs have there not been among our writers--scholars, propagandists? I say "have been, " but indeed there are plenty of them atthis very day. 

Our friend, Gania, belonged to the other class--to the "much cleverer"persons, though he was from head to foot permeated and saturated withthe longing to be original. This class, as I have said above, is farless happy. For the "clever commonplace" person, though he may possiblyimagine himself a man of genius and originality, none the less haswithin his heart the deathless worm of suspicion and doubt; and thisdoubt sometimes brings a clever man to despair. (As a rule, however, nothing tragic happens;--his liver becomes a little damaged in thecourse of time, nothing more serious. Such men do not give up theiraspirations after originality without a severe struggle, --and there havebeen men who, though good fellows in themselves, and even benefactorsto humanity, have sunk to the level of base criminals for the sake oforiginality). 

Gania was a beginner, as it were, upon this road. A deep andunchangeable consciousness of his own lack of talent, combined with avast longing to be able to persuade himself that he was original, hadrankled in his heart, even from childhood. 

He seemed to have been born with overwrought nerves, and in hispassionate desire to excel, he was often led to the brink of somerash step; and yet, having resolved upon such a step, when the momentarrived, he invariably proved too sensible to take it. He was ready, in the same way, to do a base action in order to obtain his wished-forobject; and yet, when the moment came to do it, he found that he was toohonest for any great baseness. (Not that he objected to acts of pettymeanness--he was always ready for THEM. ) He looked with hate andloathing on the poverty and downfall of his family, and treated hismother with haughty contempt, although he knew that his whole futuredepended on her character and reputation. 

Aglaya had simply frightened him; yet he did not give up all thoughts ofher--though he never seriously hoped that she would condescend to him. At the time of his "adventure" with Nastasia Philipovna he had come tothe conclusion that money was his only hope--money should do all forhim. 

At the moment when he lost Aglaya, and after the scene with Nastasia, hehad felt so low in his own eyes that he actually brought the money backto the prince. Of this returning of the money given to him by a madwomanwho had received it from a madman, he had often repented since--thoughhe never ceased to be proud of his action. During the short time thatMuishkin remained in Petersburg Gania had had time to come to hate himfor his sympathy, though the prince told him that it was "not everyonewho would have acted so nobly" as to return the money. He had longpondered, too, over his relations with Aglaya, and had persuaded himselfthat with such a strange, childish, innocent character as hers, thingsmight have ended very differently. Remorse then seized him; he threw uphis post, and buried himself in self-torment and reproach. 

He lived at Ptitsin's, and openly showed contempt for the latter, thoughhe always listened to his advice, and was sensible enough to ask for itwhen he wanted it. Gavrila Ardalionovitch was angry with Ptitsin becausethe latter did not care to become a Rothschild. "If you are to be aJew, " he said, "do it properly--squeeze people right and left, show somecharacter; be the King of the Jews while you are about it. "

Ptitsin was quiet and not easily offended--he only laughed. But on oneoccasion he explained seriously to Gania that he was no Jew, that hedid nothing dishonest, that he could not help the market price of money, that, thanks to his accurate habits, he had already a good footing andwas respected, and that his business was flourishing. 

"I shan't ever be a Rothschild, and there is no reason why I should, " headded, smiling; "but I shall have a house in the Liteynaya, perhaps two, and that will be enough for me. " "Who knows but what I may have three!"he concluded to himself; but this dream, cherished inwardly, he neverconfided to a soul. 

Nature loves and favours such people. Ptitsin will certainly have hisreward, not three houses, but four, precisely because from childhood uphe had realized that he would never be a Rothschild. That will be thelimit of Ptitsin's fortune, and, come what may, he will never have morethan four houses. 

Varvara Ardalionovna was not like her brother. She too, had passionatedesires, but they were persistent rather than impetuous. Her plans wereas wise as her methods of carrying them out. No doubt she also belongedto the category of ordinary people who dream of being original, but shesoon discovered that she had not a grain of true originality, and shedid not let it trouble her too much. Perhaps a certain kind of pridecame to her help. She made her first concession to the demands ofpractical life with great resolution when she consented to marryPtitsin. However, when she married she did not say to herself, "Nevermind a mean action if it leads to the end in view, " as her brother wouldcertainly have said in such a case; it is quite probable that he mayhave said it when he expressed his elder-brotherly satisfaction at herdecision. Far from this; Varvara Ardalionovna did not marry until shefelt convinced that her future husband was unassuming, agreeable, almost cultured, and that nothing on earth would tempt him to a reallydishonourable deed. As to small meannesses, such trifles did not troubleher. Indeed, who is free from them? It is absurd to expect the ideal!Besides, she knew that her marriage would provide a refuge for all herfamily. Seeing Gania unhappy, she was anxious to help him, in spite oftheir former disputes and misunderstandings. Ptitsin, in a friendly way, would press his brother-in-law to enter the army. "You know, " he saidsometimes, jokingly, "you despise generals and generaldom, but you willsee that 'they' will all end by being generals in their turn. You willsee it if you live long enough!"

"But why should they suppose that I despise generals?" Gania thoughtsarcastically to himself. 

To serve her brother's interests, Varvara Ardalionovna was constantly atthe Epanchins' house, helped by the fact that in childhood she and Ganiahad played with General Ivan Fedorovitch's daughters. It would have beeninconsistent with her character if in these visits she had been pursuinga chimera; her project was not chimerical at all; she was building ona firm basis--on her knowledge of the character of the Epanchin family, especially Aglaya, whom she studied closely. All Varvara's effortswere directed towards bringing Aglaya and Gania together. Perhaps sheachieved some result; perhaps, also, she made the mistake of dependingtoo much upon her brother, and expecting more from him than he wouldever be capable of giving. However this may be, her manoeuvres wereskilful enough. For weeks at a time she would never mention Gania. Herattitude was modest but dignified, and she was always extremely truthfuland sincere. Examining the depths of her conscience, she found nothingto reproach herself with, and this still further strengthened her inher designs. But Varvara Ardalionovna sometimes remarked that she feltspiteful; that there was a good deal of vanity in her, perhaps even ofwounded vanity. She noticed this at certain times more than at others, and especially after her visits to the Epanchins. 

Today, as I have said, she returned from their house with a heavyfeeling of dejection. There was a sensation of bitterness, a sort ofmocking contempt, mingled with it. 

Arrived at her own house, Varia heard a considerable commotion goingon in the upper storey, and distinguished the voices of her father andbrother. On entering the salon she found Gania pacing up and down atfrantic speed, pale with rage and almost tearing his hair. She frowned, and subsided on to the sofa with a tired air, and without taking thetrouble to remove her hat. She very well knew that if she kept quiet andasked her brother nothing about his reason for tearing up and down theroom, his wrath would fall upon her head. So she hastened to put thequestion:

"The old story, eh?"

"Old story? No! Heaven knows what's up now--I don't! Father has simplygone mad; mother's in floods of tears. Upon my word, Varia, I must kickhim out of the house; or else go myself, " he added, probably rememberingthat he could not well turn people out of a house which was not his own. 

"You must make allowances, " murmured Varia. 

"Make allowances? For whom? Him--the old blackguard? No, no, Varia--thatwon't do! It won't do, I tell you! And look at the swagger of the man!He's all to blame himself, and yet he puts on so much 'side' that you'dthink--my word!--'It's too much trouble to go through the gate, you mustbreak the fence for me!' That's the sort of air he puts on; but what'sthe matter with you, Varia? What a curious expression you have!"

"I'm all right, " said Varia, in a tone that sounded as though she wereall wrong. 

Gania looked more intently at her. 

"You've been THERE?" he asked, suddenly. 

"Yes. "

"Did you find out anything?"

"Nothing unexpected. I discovered that it's all true. My husband waswiser than either of us. Just as he suspected from the beginning, so ithas fallen out. Where is he?"

"Out. Well--what has happened?--go on. "

"The prince is formally engaged to her--that's settled. The eldersisters told me about it. Aglaya has agreed. They don't attempt toconceal it any longer; you know how mysterious and secret they have allbeen up to now. Adelaida's wedding is put off again, so that both can bemarried on one day. Isn't that delightfully romantic? Somebody ought towrite a poem on it. Sit down and write an ode instead of tearing upand down like that. This evening Princess Bielokonski is to arrive; shecomes just in time--they have a party tonight. He is to be presentedto old Bielokonski, though I believe he knows her already; probably theengagement will be openly announced. They are only afraid that he mayknock something down, or trip over something when he comes into theroom. It would be just like him. "

Gania listened attentively, but to his sister's astonishment he was byno means so impressed by this news (which should, she thought, have beenso important to him) as she had expected. 

"Well, it was clear enough all along, " he said, after a moment'sreflection. "So that's the end, " he added, with a disagreeable smile, continuing to walk up and down the room, but much slower than before, and glancing slyly into his sister's face. 

"It's a good thing that you take it philosophically, at all events, "said Varia. "I'm really very glad of it. "

"Yes, it's off our hands--off YOURS, I should say. "

"I think I have served you faithfully. I never even asked you whathappiness you expected to find with Aglaya. "

"Did I ever expect to find happiness with Aglaya?"

"Come, come, don't overdo your philosophy. Of course you did. Now it'sall over, and a good thing, too; pair of fools that we have been! Iconfess I have never been able to look at it seriously. I busied myselfin it for your sake, thinking that there was no knowing what mighthappen with a funny girl like that to deal with. There were ninety toone chances against it. To this moment I can't make out why you wishedfor it. "

"H'm! now, I suppose, you and your husband will never weary of eggingme on to work again. You'll begin your lectures about perseverance andstrength of will, and all that. I know it all by heart, " said Gania, laughing. 

"He's got some new idea in his head, " thought Varia. "Are they pleasedover there--the parents?" asked Gania, suddenly. 

"N--no, I don't think they are. You can judge for yourself. I think thegeneral is pleased enough; her mother is a little uneasy. She alwaysloathed the idea of the prince as a HUSBAND; everybody knows that. "

"Of course, naturally. The bridegroom is an impossible and ridiculousone. I mean, has SHE given her formal consent?"

"She has not said 'no, ' up to now, and that's all. It was sure to be sowith her. You know what she is like. You know how absurdly shy she is. You remember how she used to hide in a cupboard as a child, so as toavoid seeing visitors, for hours at a time. She is just the same now;but, do you know, I think there is something serious in the matter, evenfrom her side; I feel it, somehow. She laughs at the prince, they say, from morn to night in order to hide her real feelings; but you may besure she finds occasion to say something or other to him on the sly, forhe himself is in a state of radiant happiness. He walks in the clouds;they say he is extremely funny just now; I heard it from themselves. They seemed to be laughing at me in their sleeves--those elder girls--Idon't know why. "

Gania had begun to frown, and probably Varia added this last sentencein order to probe his thought. However, at this moment, the noise beganagain upstairs. 

"I'll turn him out!" shouted Gania, glad of the opportunity of ventinghis vexation. "I shall just turn him out--we can't have this. "

"Yes, and then he'll go about the place and disgrace us as he didyesterday. "

"How 'as he did yesterday'? What do you mean? What did he do yesterday?"asked Gania, in alarm. 

"Why, goodness me, don't you know?" Varia stopped short. 

"What? You don't mean to say that he went there yesterday!" cried Gania, flushing red with shame and anger. "Good heavens, Varia! Speak! You havejust been there. WAS he there or not, QUICK?" And Gania rushed for thedoor. Varia followed and caught him by both hands. 

"What are you doing? Where are you going to? You can't let him go now;if you do he'll go and do something worse. "

"What did he do there? What did he say?" "They couldn't tell methemselves; they couldn't make head or tail of it; but he frightenedthem all. He came to see the general, who was not at home; so he askedfor Lizabetha Prokofievna. First of all, he begged her for some place, or situation, for work of some kind, and then he began to complain aboutUS, about me and my husband, and you, especially YOU; he said a lot ofthings. "

"Oh! couldn't you find out?" muttered Gania, trembling hysterically. 

"No--nothing more than that. Why, they couldn't understand himthemselves; and very likely didn't tell me all. "

Gania seized his head with both hands and tottered to the window; Variasat down at the other window. 

"Funny girl, Aglaya, " she observed, after a pause. "When she left me shesaid, 'Give my special and personal respects to your parents; I shallcertainly find an opportunity to see your father one day, ' and soserious over it. She's a strange creature. "

"Wasn't she joking? She was speaking sarcastically!" "Not a bit of it;that's just the strange part of it. "

"Does she know about father, do you think--or not?"

"That they do NOT know about it in the house is quite certain, the restof them, I mean; but you have given me an idea. Aglaya perhaps knows. She alone, though, if anyone; for the sisters were as astonished as Iwas to hear her speak so seriously. If she knows, the prince must havetold her. "

"Oh! it's not a great matter to guess who told her. A thief! A thief inour family, and the head of the family, too!"

"Oh! nonsense!" cried Varia, angrily. "That was nothing but a drunkard'stale. Nonsense! Why, who invented the whole thing--Lebedeff and theprince--a pretty pair! Both were probably drunk. "

"Father is a drunkard and a thief; I am a beggar, and the husband of mysister is a usurer, " continued Gania, bitterly. "There was a pretty listof advantages with which to enchant the heart of Aglaya. "

"That same husband of your sister, the usurer--"

"Feeds me? Go on. Don't stand on ceremony, pray. "

"Don't lose your temper. You are just like a schoolboy. You think thatall this sort of thing would harm you in Aglaya's eyes, do you? Youlittle know her character. She is capable of refusing the most brilliantparty, and running away and starving in a garret with some wretchedstudent; that's the sort of girl she is. You never could or didunderstand how interesting you would have seen in her eyes if you hadcome firmly and proudly through our misfortunes. The prince has simplycaught her with hook and line; firstly, because he never thought offishing for her, and secondly, because he is an idiot in the eyes ofmost people. It's quite enough for her that by accepting him she putsher family out and annoys them all round--that's what she likes. Youdon't understand these things. "

"We shall see whether I understand or no!" said Gania, enigmatically. "But I shouldn't like her to know all about father, all the same. Ithought the prince would manage to hold his tongue about this, at least. He prevented Lebedeff spreading the news--he wouldn't even tell me allwhen I asked him--"

"Then you must see that he is not responsible. What does it matter toyou now, in any case? What are you hoping for still? If you HAVE a hopeleft, it is that your suffering air may soften her heart towards you. "

"Oh, she would funk a scandal like anyone else. You are all tarred withone brush!"

"What! AGLAYA would have funked? You are a chicken-hearted fellow, Gania!" said Varia, looking at her brother with contempt. "Not one ofus is worth much. Aglaya may be a wild sort of a girl, but she is farnobler than any of us, a thousand times nobler!"

"Well--come! there's nothing to get cross about, " said Gania. 

"All I'm afraid of is--mother. I'm afraid this scandal about father maycome to her ears; perhaps it has already. I am dreadfully afraid. "

"It undoubtedly has already!" observed Gania. 

Varia had risen from her place and had started to go upstairs to hermother; but at this observation of Gania's she turned and gazed at himattentively. 

"Who could have told her?"

"Hippolyte, probably. He would think it the most delightful amusement inthe world to tell her of it the instant he moved over here; I haven't adoubt of it. "

"But how could he know anything of it? Tell me that. Lebedeff and theprince determined to tell no one--even Colia knows nothing. "

"What, Hippolyte? He found it out himself, of course. Why, you have noidea what a cunning little animal he is; dirty little gossip! He hasthe most extraordinary nose for smelling out other people's secrets, oranything approaching to scandal. Believe it or not, but I'm pretty surehe has got round Aglaya. If he hasn't, he soon will. Rogojin is intimatewith him, too. How the prince doesn't notice it, I can't understand. Thelittle wretch considers me his enemy now and does his best to catch metripping. What on earth does it matter to him, when he's dying? However, you'll see; I shall catch HIM tripping yet, and not he me. "

"Why did you get him over here, if you hate him so? And is it reallyworth your while to try to score off him?"

"Why, it was yourself who advised me to bring him over!"

"I thought he might be useful. You know he is in love with Aglayahimself, now, and has written to her; he has even written to LizabethaProkofievna!"

"Oh! he's not dangerous there!" cried Gania, laughing angrily. "However, I believe there is something of that sort in the air; he is very likelyto be in love, for he is a mere boy. But he won't write anonymousletters to the old lady; that would be too audacious a thing for him toattempt; but I dare swear the very first thing he did was to show me upto Aglaya as a base deceiver and intriguer. I confess I was fool enoughto attempt something through him at first. I thought he would throwhimself into my service out of revengeful feelings towards the prince, the sly little beast! But I know him better now. As for the theft, hemay have heard of it from the widow in Petersburg, for if the old mancommitted himself to such an act, he can have done it for no otherobject but to give the money to her. Hippolyte said to me, without anyprelude, that the general had promised the widow four hundred roubles. Of course I understood, and the little wretch looked at me with a nastysort of satisfaction. I know him; you may depend upon it he went andtold mother too, for the pleasure of wounding her. And why doesn't hedie, I should like to know? He undertook to die within three weeks, and here he is getting fatter. His cough is better, too. It was onlyyesterday that he said that was the second day he hadn't coughed blood. "

"Well, turn him out!"

"I don't HATE, I despise him, " said Gania, grandly. "Well, I do hatehim, if you like!" he added, with a sudden access of rage, "and I'lltell him so to his face, even when he's dying! If you had but read hisconfession--good Lord! what refinement of impudence! Oh, but I'd haveliked to whip him then and there, like a schoolboy, just to see howsurprised he would have been! Now he hates everybody because he--Oh, Isay, what on earth are they doing there! Listen to that noise! I reallycan't stand this any longer. Ptitsin!" he cried, as the latter enteredthe room, "what in the name of goodness are we coming to? Listen tothat--"

But the noise came rapidly nearer, the door burst open, and old GeneralIvolgin, raging, furious, purple-faced, and trembling with anger, rushedin. He was followed by Nina Alexandrovna, Colia, and behind the rest, Hippolyte. 

II. 

HIPPOLYTE had now been five days at the Ptitsins'. His flitting from theprince's to these new quarters had been brought about quite naturallyand without many words. He did not quarrel with the prince--in fact, they seemed to part as friends. Gania, who had been hostile enough onthat eventful evening, had himself come to see him a couple of dayslater, probably in obedience to some sudden impulse. For some reason orother, Rogojin too had begun to visit the sick boy. The prince thoughtit might be better for him to move away from his (the prince's) house. Hippolyte informed him, as he took his leave, that Ptitsin "had beenkind enough to offer him a corner, " and did not say a word about Gania, though Gania had procured his invitation, and himself came to fetch himaway. Gania noticed this at the time, and put it to Hippolyte's debit onaccount. 

Gania was right when he told his sister that Hippolyte was gettingbetter; that he was better was clear at the first glance. He entered theroom now last of all, deliberately, and with a disagreeable smile on hislips. 

Nina Alexandrovna came in, looking frightened. She had changed muchsince we last saw her, half a year ago, and had grown thin and pale. Colia looked worried and perplexed. He could not understand the vagariesof the general, and knew nothing of the last achievement of that worthy, which had caused so much commotion in the house. But he could see thathis father had of late changed very much, and that he had begun tobehave in so extraordinary a fashion both at home and abroad that hewas not like the same man. What perplexed and disturbed him as much asanything was that his father had entirely given up drinking during thelast few days. Colia knew that he had quarrelled with both Lebedeff andthe prince, and had just bought a small bottle of vodka and brought ithome for his father. 

"Really, mother, " he had assured Nina Alexandrovna upstairs, "really youhad better let him drink. He has not had a drop for three days; he mustbe suffering agonies--The general now entered the room, threw the doorwide open, and stood on the threshold trembling with indignation. 

"Look here, my dear sir, " he began, addressing Ptitsin in a very loudtone of voice; "if you have really made up your mind to sacrifice an oldman--your father too or at all events father of your wife--an old manwho has served his emperor--to a wretched little atheist like this, allI can say is, sir, my foot shall cease to tread your floors. Make yourchoice, sir; make your choice quickly, if you please! Me or this--screw!Yes, screw, sir; I said it accidentally, but let the word stand--thisscrew, for he screws and drills himself into my soul--"

"Hadn't you better say corkscrew?" said Hippolyte. 

"No, sir, NOT corkscrew. I am a general, not a bottle, sir. Make yourchoice, sir--me or him. "

Here Colia handed him a chair, and he subsided into it, breathless withrage. 

"Hadn't you better--better--take a nap?" murmured the stupefied Ptitsin. 

"A nap?" shrieked the general. "I am not drunk, sir; you insult me!I see, " he continued, rising, "I see that all are against me here. Enough--I go; but know, sirs--know that--"

He was not allowed to finish his sentence. Somebody pushed him back intohis chair, and begged him to be calm. Nina Alexandrovna trembled, andcried quietly. Gania retired to the window in disgust. 

"But what have I done? What is his grievance?" asked Hippolyte, grinning. 

"What have you done, indeed?" put in Nina Alexandrovna. "You ought to beashamed of yourself, teasing an old man like that--and in your position, too. "

"And pray what IS my position, madame? I have the greatest respect foryou, personally; but--"

"He's a little screw, " cried the general; "he drills holes my heartand soul. He wishes me to be a pervert to atheism. Know, you younggreenhorn, that I was covered with honours before ever you were born;and you are nothing better than a wretched little worm, torn in two withcoughing, and dying slowly of your own malice and unbelief. What didGavrila bring you over here for? They're all against me, even to my ownson--all against me. "

"Oh, come--nonsense!" cried Gania; "if you did not go shaming us allover the town, things might be better for all parties. "

"What--shame you? I?--what do you mean, you young calf? I shame you? Ican only do you honour, sir; I cannot shame you. "

He jumped up from his chair in a fit of uncontrollable rage. Gania wasvery angry too. 

"Honour, indeed!" said the latter, with contempt. 

"What do you say, sir?" growled the general, taking a step towards him. 

"I say that I have but to open my mouth, and you--"

Gania began, but did not finish. The two--father and son--stood beforeone another, both unspeakably agitated, especially Gania. 

"Gania, Gania, reflect!" cried his mother, hurriedly. 

"It's all nonsense on both sides, " snapped out Varia. "Let them alone, mother. "

"It's only for mother's sake that I spare him, " said Gania, tragically. 

"Speak!" said the general, beside himself with rage and excitement;"speak--under the penalty of a father's curse!"

"Oh, father's curse be hanged--you don't frighten me that way!" saidGania. "Whose fault is it that you have been as mad as a March hare allthis week? It is just a week--you see, I count the days. Take carenow; don't provoke me too much, or I'll tell all. Why did you go to theEpanchins' yesterday--tell me that? And you call yourself an oldman, too, with grey hair, and father of a family! H'm--nice sort of afather. "

"Be quiet, Gania, " cried Colia. "Shut up, you fool!"

"Yes, but how have I offended him?" repeated Hippolyte, still in thesame jeering voice. "Why does he call me a screw? You all heard it. Hecame to me himself and began telling me about some Captain Eropegoff. I don't wish for your company, general. I always avoided you--you knowthat. What have I to do with Captain Eropegoff? All I did was to expressmy opinion that probably Captain Eropegoff never existed at all!"

"Of course he never existed!" Gania interrupted. 

But the general only stood stupefied and gazed around in a dazed way. Gania's speech had impressed him, with its terrible candour. For thefirst moment or two he could find no words to answer him, and it wasonly when Hippolyte burst out laughing, and said:

"There, you see! Even your own son supports my statement that therenever was such a person as Captain Eropegoff!" that the old fellowmuttered confusedly:

"Kapiton Eropegoff--not Captain Eropegoff!--Kapiton--majorretired--Eropegoff--Kapiton. "

"Kapiton didn't exist either!" persisted Gania, maliciously. 

"What? Didn't exist?" cried the poor general, and a deep blush suffusedhis face. 

"That'll do, Gania!" cried Varia and Ptitsin. 

"Shut up, Gania!" said Colia. 

But this intercession seemed to rekindle the general. 

"What did you mean, sir, that he didn't exist? Explain yourself, " herepeated, angrily. 

"Because he DIDN'T exist--never could and never did--there! You'd betterdrop the subject, I warn you!"

"And this is my son--my own son--whom I--oh, gracious Heaven!Eropegoff--Eroshka Eropegoff didn't exist!"

"Ha, ha! it's Eroshka now, " laughed Hippolyte. 

"No, sir, Kapitoshka--not Eroshka. I mean, Kapiton Alexeyevitch--retiredmajor--married Maria Petrovna Lu--Lu--he was my friend andcompanion--Lutugoff--from our earliest beginnings. I closed his eyes forhim--he was killed. Kapiton Eropegoff never existed! tfu!"

The general shouted in his fury; but it was to be concluded that hiswrath was not kindled by the expressed doubt as to Kapiton's existence. This was his scapegoat; but his excitement was caused by something quitedifferent. As a rule he would have merely shouted down the doubt asto Kapiton, told a long yarn about his friend, and eventually retiredupstairs to his room. But today, in the strange uncertainty of humannature, it seemed to require but so small an offence as this to makehis cup to overflow. The old man grew purple in the face, he raised hishands. "Enough of this!" he yelled. "My curse--away, out of the houseI go! Colia, bring my bag away!" He left the room hastily and in aparoxysm of rage. 

His wife, Colia, and Ptitsin ran out after him. 

"What have you done now?" said Varia to Gania. "He'll probably be makingoff THERE again! What a disgrace it all is!"

"Well, he shouldn't steal, " cried Gania, panting with fury. And just atthis moment his eye met Hippolyte's. 

"As for you, sir, " he cried, "you should at least remember that you arein a strange house and--receiving hospitality; you should not take theopportunity of tormenting an old man, sir, who is too evidently out ofhis mind. "

Hippolyte looked furious, but he restrained himself. 

"I don't quite agree with you that your father is out of his mind, " heobserved, quietly. "On the contrary, I cannot help thinking he has beenless demented of late. Don't you think so? He has grown so cunning andcareful, and weighs his words so deliberately; he spoke to me about thatKapiton fellow with an object, you know! Just fancy--he wanted me to--"

"Oh, devil take what he wanted you to do! Don't try to be too cunningwith me, young man!" shouted Gania. "If you are aware of the real reasonfor my father's present condition (and you have kept such an excellentspying watch during these last few days that you are sure to be aware ofit)--you had no right whatever to torment the--unfortunate man, and toworry my mother by your exaggerations of the affair; because the wholebusiness is nonsense--simply a drunken freak, and nothing more, quiteunproved by any evidence, and I don't believe that much of it!" (hesnapped his fingers). "But you must needs spy and watch over us all, because you are a-a--"

"Screw!" laughed Hippolyte. 

"Because you are a humbug, sir; and thought fit to worry people for halfan hour, and tried to frighten them into believing that you would shootyourself with your little empty pistol, pirouetting about and playing atsuicide! I gave you hospitality, you have fattened on it, your cough hasleft you, and you repay all this--"

"Excuse me--two words! I am Varvara Ardalionovna's guest, not yours;YOU have extended no hospitality to me. On the contrary, if I amnot mistaken, I believe you are yourself indebted to Mr. Ptitsin'shospitality. Four days ago I begged my mother to come down here and findlodgings, because I certainly do feel better here, though I am not fat, nor have I ceased to cough. I am today informed that my room is readyfor me; therefore, having thanked your sister and mother for theirkindness to me, I intend to leave the house this evening. I beg yourpardon--I interrupted you--I think you were about to add something?"

"Oh--if that is the state of affairs--" began Gania. 

"Excuse me--I will take a seat, " interrupted Hippolyte once more, sitting down deliberately; "for I am not strong yet. Now then, I amready to hear you. Especially as this is the last chance we shall haveof a talk, and very likely the last meeting we shall ever have at all. "

Gania felt a little guilty. 

"I assure you I did not mean to reckon up debits and credits, " he began, "and if you--"

"I don't understand your condescension, " said Hippolyte. "As for me, Ipromised myself, on the first day of my arrival in this house, thatI would have the satisfaction of settling accounts with you in a verythorough manner before I said good-bye to you. I intend to perform thisoperation now, if you like; after you, though, of course. "

"May I ask you to be so good as to leave this room?"

"You'd better speak out. You'll be sorry afterwards if you don't. "

"Hippolyte, stop, please! It's so dreadfully undignified, " said Varia. 

"Well, only for the sake of a lady, " said Hippolyte, laughing. "Iam ready to put off the reckoning, but only put it off, VarvaraArdalionovna, because an explanation between your brother and myself hasbecome an absolute necessity, and I could not think of leaving the housewithout clearing up all misunderstandings first. "

"In a word, you are a wretched little scandal-monger, " cried Gania, "andyou cannot go away without a scandal!"

"You see, " said Hippolyte, coolly, "you can't restrain yourself. You'llbe dreadfully sorry afterwards if you don't speak out now. Come, youshall have the first say. I'll wait. "

Gania was silent and merely looked contemptuously at him. 

"You won't? Very well. I shall be as short as possible, for my part. Twoor three times to-day I have had the word 'hospitality' pushed down mythroat; this is not fair. In inviting me here you yourself entrappedme for your own use; you thought I wished to revenge myself upon theprince. You heard that Aglaya Ivanovna had been kind to me and read myconfession. Making sure that I should give myself up to your interests, you hoped that you might get some assistance out of me. I will not gointo details. I don't ask either admission or confirmation of this fromyourself; I am quite content to leave you to your conscience, and tofeel that we understand one another capitally. "

"What a history you are weaving out of the most ordinary circumstances!"cried Varia. 

"I told you the fellow was nothing but a scandalmonger, " said Gania. 

"Excuse me, Varia Ardalionovna, I will proceed. I can, of course, neither love nor respect the prince, though he is a good-hearted fellow, if a little queer. But there is no need whatever for me to hate him. Iquite understood your brother when he first offered me aid against theprince, though I did not show it; I knew well that your brother wasmaking a ridiculous mistake in me. I am ready to spare him, however, even now; but solely out of respect for yourself, Varvara Ardalionovna. 

"Having now shown you that I am not quite such a fool as I look, andthat I have to be fished for with a rod and line for a good long whilebefore I am caught, I will proceed to explain why I specially wished tomake your brother look a fool. That my motive power is hate, I do notattempt to conceal. I have felt that before dying (and I am dying, however much fatter I may appear to you), I must absolutely make a foolof, at least, one of that class of men which has dogged me all my life, which I hate so cordially, and which is so prominently represented byyour much esteemed brother. I should not enjoy paradise nearly so muchwithout having done this first. I hate you, Gavrila Ardalionovitch, solely (this may seem curious to you, but I repeat)--solely because youare the type, and incarnation, and head, and crown of the most impudent, the most self-satisfied, the most vulgar and detestable form ofcommonplaceness. You are ordinary of the ordinary; you have no chance ofever fathering the pettiest idea of your own. And yet you are as jealousand conceited as you can possibly be; you consider yourself a greatgenius; of this you are persuaded, although there are dark moments ofdoubt and rage, when even this fact seems uncertain. There are spotsof darkness on your horizon, though they will disappear when you becomecompletely stupid. But a long and chequered path lies before you, andof this I am glad. In the first place you will never gain a certainperson. "

"Come, come! This is intolerable! You had better stop, you littlemischief-making wretch!" cried Varia. Gania had grown very pale; hetrembled, but said nothing. 

Hippolyte paused, and looked at him intently and with greatgratification. He then turned his gaze upon Varia, bowed, and went out, without adding another word. 

Gania might justly complain of the hardness with which fate treated him. Varia dared not speak to him for a long while, as he strode past her, backwards and forwards. At last he went and stood at the window, lookingout, with his back turned towards her. There was a fearful row going onupstairs again. 

"Are you off?" said Gania, suddenly, remarking that she had risen andwas about to leave the room. "Wait a moment--look at this. "

He approached the table and laid a small sheet of paper before her. Itlooked like a little note. 

"Good heavens!" cried Varia, raising her hands. 

This was the note:

"GAVRILA ARDOLIONOVITCH, --persuaded of your kindness of heart, I havedetermined to ask your advice on a matter of great importance to myself. I should like to meet you tomorrow morning at seven o'clock by the greenbench in the park. It is not far from our house. Varvara Ardalionovna, who must accompany you, knows the place well. 

"A. E. "

"What on earth is one to make of a girl like that?" said Varia. 

Gania, little as he felt inclined for swagger at this moment, couldnot avoid showing his triumph, especially just after such humiliatingremarks as those of Hippolyte. A smile of self-satisfaction beamed onhis face, and Varia too was brimming over with delight. 

"And this is the very day that they were to announce the engagement!What will she do next?"

"What do you suppose she wants to talk about tomorrow?" asked Gania. 

"Oh, THAT'S all the same! The chief thing is that she wants to see youafter six months' absence. Look here, Gania, this is a SERIOUS business. Don't swagger again and lose the game--play carefully, but don't funk, do you understand? As if she could possibly avoid seeing what I havebeen working for all this last six months! And just imagine, I was therethis morning and not a word of this! I was there, you know, on the sly. The old lady did not know, or she would have kicked me out. I ran somerisk for you, you see. I did so want to find out, at all hazards. "

Here there was a frantic noise upstairs once more; several people seemedto be rushing downstairs at once. 

"Now, Gania, " cried Varia, frightened, "we can't let him go out! Wecan't afford to have a breath of scandal about the town at this moment. Run after him and beg his pardon--quick. "

But the father of the family was out in the road already. Colia wascarrying his bag for him; Nina Alexandrovna stood and cried on thedoorstep; she wanted to run after the general, but Ptitsin kept herback. 

"You will only excite him more, " he said. "He has nowhere else to goto--he'll be back here in half an hour. I've talked it all over withColia; let him play the fool a bit, it will do him good. "

"What are you up to? Where are you off to? You've nowhere to go to, youknow, " cried Gania, out of the window. 

"Come back, father; the neighbours will hear!" cried Varia. 

The general stopped, turned round, raised his hands and remarked: "Mycurse be upon this house!"

"Which observation should always be made in as theatrical a tone aspossible, " muttered Gania, shutting the window with a bang. 

The neighbours undoubtedly did hear. Varia rushed out of the room. 

No sooner had his sister left him alone, than Gania took the note out ofhis pocket, kissed it, and pirouetted around. 

III. 

As a general rule, old General Ivolgin's paroxysms ended in smoke. Hehad before this experienced fits of sudden fury, but not very often, because he was really a man of peaceful and kindly disposition. He hadtried hundreds of times to overcome the dissolute habits which he hadcontracted of late years. He would suddenly remember that he was "afather, " would be reconciled with his wife, and shed genuine tears. His feeling for Nina Alexandrovna amounted almost to adoration; she hadpardoned so much in silence, and loved him still in spite of the stateof degradation into which he had fallen. But the general's struggleswith his own weakness never lasted very long. He was, in his way, animpetuous man, and a quiet life of repentance in the bosom of his familysoon became insupportable to him. In the end he rebelled, and flew intorages which he regretted, perhaps, even as he gave way to them, butwhich were beyond his control. He picked quarrels with everyone, began to hold forth eloquently, exacted unlimited respect, and at lastdisappeared from the house, and sometimes did not return for a longtime. He had given up interfering in the affairs of his family fortwo years now, and knew nothing about them but what he gathered fromhearsay. 

But on this occasion there was something more serious than usual. Everyone seemed to know something, but to be afraid to talk about it. 

The general had turned up in the bosom of his family two or three daysbefore, but not, as usual, with the olive branch of peace in his hand, not in the garb of penitence--in which he was usually clad on suchoccasions--but, on the contrary, in an uncommonly bad temper. He hadarrived in a quarrelsome mood, pitching into everyone he came across, and talking about all sorts and kinds of subjects in the most unexpectedmanner, so that it was impossible to discover what it was that wasreally putting him out. At moments he would be apparently quite brightand happy; but as a rule he would sit moody and thoughtful. He wouldabruptly commence to hold forth about the Epanchins, about Lebedeff, orthe prince, and equally abruptly would stop short and refuse to speakanother word, answering all further questions with a stupid smile, unconscious that he was smiling, or that he had been asked a question. The whole of the previous night he had spent tossing about and groaning, and poor Nina Alexandrovna had been busy making cold compresses and warmfomentations and so on, without being very clear how to apply them. Hehad fallen asleep after a while, but not for long, and had awaked ina state of violent hypochondria which had ended in his quarrel withHippolyte, and the solemn cursing of Ptitsin's establishment generally. It was also observed during those two or three days that he was in astate of morbid self-esteem, and was specially touchy on all points ofhonour. Colia insisted, in discussing the matter with his mother, thatall this was but the outcome of abstinence from drink, or perhaps ofpining after Lebedeff, with whom up to this time the general had beenupon terms of the greatest friendship; but with whom, for some reasonor other, he had quarrelled a few days since, parting from him in greatwrath. There had also been a scene with the prince. Colia had asked anexplanation of the latter, but had been forced to conclude that he wasnot told the whole truth. 

If Hippolyte and Nina Alexandrovna had, as Gania suspected, had somespecial conversation about the general's actions, it was strange thatthe malicious youth, whom Gania had called a scandal-monger to his face, had not allowed himself a similar satisfaction with Colia. 

The fact is that probably Hippolyte was not quite so black as Ganiapainted him; and it was hardly likely that he had informed NinaAlexandrovna of certain events, of which we know, for the mere pleasureof giving her pain. We must never forget that human motives aregenerally far more complicated than we are apt to suppose, and that wecan very rarely accurately describe the motives of another. It is muchbetter for the writer, as a rule, to content himself with the barestatement of events; and we shall take this line with regard to thecatastrophe recorded above, and shall state the remaining eventsconnected with the general's trouble shortly, because we feel thatwe have already given to this secondary character in our story moreattention than we originally intended. 

The course of events had marched in the following order. When Lebedeffreturned, in company with the general, after their expedition to town afew days since, for the purpose of investigation, he brought the princeno information whatever. If the latter had not himself been occupiedwith other thoughts and impressions at the time, he must have observedthat Lebedeff not only was very uncommunicative, but even appearedanxious to avoid him. 

When the prince did give the matter a little attention, he recalledthe fact that during these days he had always found Lebedeff to be inradiantly good spirits, when they happened to meet; and further, thatthe general and Lebedeff were always together. The two friends did notseem ever to be parted for a moment. 

Occasionally the prince heard loud talking and laughing upstairs, andonce he detected the sound of a jolly soldier's song going on above, andrecognized the unmistakable bass of the general's voice. But the suddenoutbreak of song did not last; and for an hour afterwards the animatedsound of apparently drunken conversation continued to be heard fromabove. At length there was the clearest evidence of a grand mutualembracing, and someone burst into tears. Shortly after this, however, there was a violent but short-lived quarrel, with loud talking on bothsides. 

All these days Colia had been in a state of great mental preoccupation. Muishkin was usually out all day, and only came home late at night. Onhis return he was invariably informed that Colia had been looking forhim. However, when they did meet, Colia never had anything particular totell him, excepting that he was highly dissatisfied with the general andhis present condition of mind and behaviour. 

"They drag each other about the place, " he said, "and get drunk togetherat the pub close by here, and quarrel in the street on the way home, andembrace one another after it, and don't seem to part for a moment. "

When the prince pointed out that there was nothing new about that, forthat they had always behaved in this manner together, Colia did not knowwhat to say; in fact he could not explain what it was that speciallyworried him, just now, about his father. 

On the morning following the bacchanalian songs and quarrels recordedabove, as the prince stepped out of the house at about eleven o'clock, the general suddenly appeared before him, much agitated. 

"I have long sought the honour and opportunity of meetingyou--much-esteemed Lef Nicolaievitch, " he murmured, pressing theprince's hand very hard, almost painfully so; "long--very long. "

The prince begged him to step in and sit down. 

"No--I will not sit down, --I am keeping you, I see, --another time!--Ithink I may be permitted to congratulate you upon the realization ofyour heart's best wishes, is it not so?"

"What best wishes?"

The prince blushed. He thought, as so many in his position do, thatnobody had seen, heard, noticed, or understood anything. 

"Oh--be easy, sir, be easy! I shall not wound your tenderest feelings. I've been through it all myself, and I know well how unpleasant it iswhen an outsider sticks his nose in where he is not wanted. I experiencethis every morning. I came to speak to you about another matter, though, an important matter. A very important matter, prince. "

The latter requested him to take a seat once more, and sat down himself. 

"Well--just for one second, then. The fact is, I came for advice. Ofcourse I live now without any very practical objects in life; but, being full of self-respect, in which quality the ordinary Russian is sodeficient as a rule, and of activity, I am desirous, in a word, prince, of placing myself and my wife and children in a position of--in fact, Iwant advice. "

The prince commended his aspirations with warmth. 

"Quite so--quite so! But this is all mere nonsense. I came here to speakof something quite different, something very important, prince. AndI have determined to come to you as to a man in whose sincerity andnobility of feeling I can trust like--like--are you surprised at mywords, prince?"

The prince was watching his guest, if not with much surprise, at allevents with great attention and curiosity. 

The old man was very pale; every now and then his lips trembled, and hishands seemed unable to rest quietly, but continually moved from place toplace. He had twice already jumped up from his chair and sat down againwithout being in the least aware of it. He would take up a hook fromthe table and open it--talking all the while, --look at the heading of achapter, shut it and put it back again, seizing another immediately, butholding it unopened in his hand, and waving it in the air as he spoke. 

"But enough!" he cried, suddenly. "I see I have been boring you withmy--"

"Not in the least--not in the least, I assure you. On the contrary, I amlistening most attentively, and am anxious to guess-"

"Prince, I wish to place myself in a respectable position--I wish toesteem myself--and to--"

"My dear sir, a man of such noble aspirations is worthy of all esteem byvirtue of those aspirations alone. "

The prince brought out his "copy-book sentence" in the firm belief thatit would produce a good effect. He felt instinctively that some suchwell-sounding humbug, brought out at the proper moment, would soothe theold man's feelings, and would be specially acceptable to such a man insuch a position. At all hazards, his guest must be despatched with heartrelieved and spirit comforted; that was the problem before the prince atthis moment. 

The phrase flattered the general, touched him, and pleased him mightily. He immediately changed his tone, and started off on a long and solemnexplanation. But listen as he would, the prince could make neither headnor tail of it. 

The general spoke hotly and quickly for ten minutes; he spoke as thoughhis words could not keep pace with his crowding thoughts. Tears stoodin his eyes, and yet his speech was nothing but a collection ofdisconnected sentences, without beginning and without end--a string ofunexpected words and unexpected sentiments--colliding with one another, and jumping over one another, as they burst from his lips. 

"Enough!" he concluded at last, "you understand me, and that is thegreat thing. A heart like yours cannot help understanding the sufferingsof another. Prince, you are the ideal of generosity; what are other menbeside yourself? But you are young--accept my blessing! Myprincipal object is to beg you to fix an hour for a most importantconversation--that is my great hope, prince. My heart needs but a littlefriendship and sympathy, and yet I cannot always find means to satisfyit. "

"But why not now? I am ready to listen, and--"

"No, no--prince, not now! Now is a dream! And it is too, too important!It is to be the hour of Fate to me--MY OWN hour. Our interview is notto be broken in upon by every chance comer, every impertinent guest--andthere are plenty of such stupid, impertinent fellows"--(he bent over andwhispered mysteriously, with a funny, frightened look on his face)--"whoare unworthy to tie your shoe, prince. I don't say MINE, mind--you willunderstand me, prince. Only YOU understand me, prince--no one else. HE doesn't understand me, he is absolutely--ABSOLUTELY unable tosympathize. The first qualification for understanding another is Heart. "

The prince was rather alarmed at all this, and was obliged to end byappointing the same hour of the following day for the interview desired. The general left him much comforted and far less agitated than when hehad arrived. 

At seven in the evening, the prince sent to request Lebedeff to payhim a visit. Lebedeff came at once, and "esteemed it an honour, " as heobserved, the instant he entered the room. He acted as though therehad never been the slightest suspicion of the fact that he hadsystematically avoided the prince for the last three days. 

He sat down on the edge of his chair, smiling and making faces, and rubbing his hands, and looking as though he were in delightedexpectation of hearing some important communication, which had been longguessed by all. 

The prince was instantly covered with confusion; for it appeared to beplain that everyone expected something of him--that everyone looked athim as though anxious to congratulate him, and greeted him with hints, and smiles, and knowing looks. 

Keller, for instance, had run into the house three times of late, "justfor a moment, " and each time with the air of desiring to offer hiscongratulations. Colia, too, in spite of his melancholy, had onceor twice begun sentences in much the same strain of suggestion orinsinuation. 

The prince, however, immediately began, with some show of annoyance, toquestion Lebedeff categorically, as to the general's present condition, and his opinion thereon. He described the morning's interview in a fewwords. 

"Everyone has his worries, prince, especially in these strange andtroublous times of ours, " Lebedeff replied, drily, and with the air of aman disappointed of his reasonable expectations. 

"Dear me, what a philosopher you are!" laughed the prince. 

"Philosophy is necessary, sir--very necessary--in our day. It is toomuch neglected. As for me, much esteemed prince, I am sensible of havingexperienced the honour of your confidence in a certain matter up toa certain point, but never beyond that point. I do not for a momentcomplain--"

"Lebedeff, you seem to be angry for some reason!" said the prince. 

"Not the least bit in the world, esteemed and revered prince! Not theleast bit in the world!" cried Lebedeff, solemnly, with his hand uponhis heart. "On the contrary, I am too painfully aware that neither by myposition in the world, nor by my gifts of intellect and heart, nor bymy riches, nor by any former conduct of mine, have I in any way deservedyour confidence, which is far above my highest aspirations and hopes. Oh no, prince; I may serve you, but only as your humble slave! I am notangry, oh no! Not angry; pained perhaps, but nothing more. 

"My dear Lebedeff, I--"

"Oh, nothing more, nothing more! I was saying to myself but now. . . 'I amquite unworthy of friendly relations with him, ' say I; 'but perhaps aslandlord of this house I may, at some future date, in his good time, receive information as to certain imminent and much to be desiredchanges--'"

So saying Lebedeff fixed the prince with his sharp little eyes, still inhope that he would get his curiosity satisfied. 

The prince looked back at him in amazement. 

"I don't understand what you are driving at!" he cried, almost angrily, "and, and--what an intriguer you are, Lebedeff!" he added, bursting intoa fit of genuine laughter. 

Lebedeff followed suit at once, and it was clear from his radiant facethat he considered his prospects of satisfaction immensely improved. 

"And do you know, " the prince continued, "I am amazed at your naiveways, Lebedeff! Don't be angry with me--not only yours, everybody else'salso! You are waiting to hear something from me at this very moment withsuch simplicity that I declare I feel quite ashamed of myself for havingnothing whatever to tell you. I swear to you solemnly, that there isnothing to tell. There! Can you take that in?" The prince laughed again. 

Lebedeff assumed an air of dignity. It was true enough that he wassometimes naive to a degree in his curiosity; but he was also anexcessively cunning gentleman, and the prince was almost convertinghim into an enemy by his repeated rebuffs. The prince did not snubLebedeff's curiosity, however, because he felt any contempt for him; butsimply because the subject was too delicate to talk about. Only a fewdays before he had looked upon his own dreams almost as crimes. ButLebedeff considered the refusal as caused by personal dislike tohimself, and was hurt accordingly. Indeed, there was at this moment apiece of news, most interesting to the prince, which Lebedeff knewand even had wished to tell him, but which he now kept obstinately tohimself. 

"And what can I do for you, esteemed prince? Since I am told you sentfor me just now, " he said, after a few moments' silence. 

"Oh, it was about the general, " began the prince, waking abruptly fromthe fit of musing which he too had indulged in "and-and about the theftyou told me of. "

"That is--er--about--what theft?"

"Oh come! just as if you didn't understand, Lukian Timofeyovitch! Whatare you up to? I can't make you out! The money, the money, sir! The fourhundred roubles that you lost that day. You came and told me aboutit one morning, and then went off to Petersburg. There, NOW do youunderstand?"

"Oh--h--h! You mean the four hundred roubles!" said Lebedeff, draggingthe words out, just as though it had only just dawned upon him whatthe prince was talking about. "Thanks very much, prince, for your kindinterest--you do me too much honour. I found the money, long ago!"

"You found it? Thank God for that!"

"Your exclamation proves the generous sympathy of your nature, prince;for four hundred roubles--to a struggling family man like myself--is nosmall matter!"

"I didn't mean that; at least, of course, I'm glad for your sake, too, "added the prince, correcting himself, "but--how did you find it?"

"Very simply indeed! I found it under the chair upon which my coat hadhung; so that it is clear the purse simply fell out of the pocket and onto the floor!"

"Under the chair? Impossible! Why, you told me yourself that you hadsearched every corner of the room? How could you not have looked in themost likely place of all?"

"Of course I looked there, --of course I did! Very much so! I looked andscrambled about, and felt for it, and wouldn't believe it was not there, and looked again and again. It is always so in such cases. One longs andexpects to find a lost article; one sees it is not there, and the placeis as bare as one's palm; and yet one returns and looks again and again, fifteen or twenty times, likely enough!"

"Oh, quite so, of course. But how was it in your case?--I don't quiteunderstand, " said the bewildered prince. "You say it wasn't there atfirst, and that you searched the place thoroughly, and yet it turned upon that very spot!"

"Yes, sir--on that very spot. " The prince gazed strangely at Lebedeff. "And the general?" he asked, abruptly. 

"The--the general? How do you mean, the general?" said Lebedeff, dubiously, as though he had not taken in the drift of the prince'sremark. 

"Oh, good heavens! I mean, what did the general say when the purseturned up under the chair? You and he had searched for it togetherthere, hadn't you?"

"Quite so--together! But the second time I thought better to say nothingabout finding it. I found it alone. "

"But--why in the world--and the money? Was it all there?"

"I opened the purse and counted it myself; right to a single rouble. "

"I think you might have come and told me, " said the prince, thoughtfully. 

"Oh--I didn't like to disturb you, prince, in the midst of your privateand doubtless most interesting personal reflections. Besides, I wantedto appear, myself, to have found nothing. I took the purse, and openedit, and counted the money, and shut it and put it down again under thechair. "

"What in the world for?"

"Oh, just out of curiosity, " said Lebedeff, rubbing his hands andsniggering. 

"What, it's still there then, is it? Ever since the day beforeyesterday?"

"Oh no! You see, I was half in hopes the general might find it. Becauseif I found it, why should not he too observe an object lying before hisvery eyes? I moved the chair several times so as to expose the purseto view, but the general never saw it. He is very absent just now, evidently. He talks and laughs and tells stories, and suddenly fliesinto a rage with me, goodness knows why. "

"Well, but--have you taken the purse away now?"

"No, it disappeared from under the chair in the night. "

"Where is it now, then?"

"Here, " laughed Lebedeff, at last, rising to his full height and lookingpleasantly at the prince, "here, in the lining of my coat. Look, you canfeel it for yourself, if you like!"

Sure enough there was something sticking out of the front of thecoat--something large. It certainly felt as though it might well be thepurse fallen through a hole in the pocket into the lining. 

"I took it out and had a look at it; it's all right. I've let it slipback into the lining now, as you see, and so I have been walking aboutever since yesterday morning; it knocks against my legs when I walkalong. "

"H'm! and you take no notice of it?"

"Quite so, I take no notice of it. Ha, ha! and think of this, prince, my pockets are always strong and whole, and yet, here in one night, is ahuge hole. I know the phenomenon is unworthy of your notice; but such isthe case. I examined the hole, and I declare it actually looks as thoughit had been made with a pen-knife, a most improbable contingency. "

"And--and--the general?"

"Ah, very angry all day, sir; all yesterday and all today. He showsdecided bacchanalian predilections at one time, and at another istearful and sensitive, but at any moment he is liable to paroxysms ofsuch rage that I assure you, prince, I am quite alarmed. I am nota military man, you know. Yesterday we were sitting together inthe tavern, and the lining of my coat was--quite accidentally, ofcourse--sticking out right in front. The general squinted at it, andflew into a rage. He never looks me quite in the face now, unless he isvery drunk or maudlin; but yesterday he looked at me in such a way thata shiver went all down my back. I intend to find the purse tomorrow; buttill then I am going to have another night of it with him. "

"What's the good of tormenting him like this?" cried the prince. 

"I don't torment him, prince, I don't indeed!" cried Lebedeff, hotly. "Ilove him, my dear sir, I esteem him; and believe it or not, I love himall the better for this business, yes--and value him more. "

Lebedeff said this so seriously that the prince quite lost his temperwith him. 

"Nonsense! love him and torment him so! Why, by the very fact that heput the purse prominently before you, first under the chair and thenin your lining, he shows that he does not wish to deceive you, but isanxious to beg your forgiveness in this artless way. Do you hear? He isasking your pardon. He confides in the delicacy of your feelings, andin your friendship for him. And you can allow yourself to humiliate sothoroughly honest a man!"

"Thoroughly honest, quite so, prince, thoroughly honest!" said Lebedeff, with flashing eyes. "And only you, prince, could have found so veryappropriate an expression. I honour you for it, prince. Very well, that's settled; I shall find the purse now and not tomorrow. Here, Ifind it and take it out before your eyes! And the money is all right. Take it, prince, and keep it till tomorrow, will you? Tomorrow or nextday I'll take it back again. I think, prince, that the night afterits disappearance it was buried under a bush in the garden. So Ibelieve--what do you think of that?"

"Well, take care you don't tell him to his face that you have found thepurse. Simply let him see that it is no longer in the lining of yourcoat, and form his own conclusions. "

"Do you think so? Had I not just better tell him I have found it, andpretend I never guessed where it was?"

"No, I don't think so, " said the prince, thoughtfully; "it's too latefor that--that would be dangerous now. No, no! Better say nothing aboutit. Be nice with him, you know, but don't show him--oh, YOU know wellenough--"

"I know, prince, of course I know, but I'm afraid I shall not carryit out; for to do so one needs a heart like your own. He is so veryirritable just now, and so proud. At one moment he will embrace me, and the next he flies out at me and sneers at me, and then I stick thelining forward on purpose. Well, au revoir, prince, I see I am keepingyou, and boring you, too, interfering with your most interesting privatereflections. "

"Now, do be careful! Secrecy, as before!"

"Oh, silence isn't the word! Softly, softly!"

But in spite of this conclusion to the episode, the prince remained aspuzzled as ever, if not more so. He awaited next morning's interviewwith the general most impatiently. 

IV. 

THE time appointed was twelve o'clock, and the prince, returning homeunexpectedly late, found the general waiting for him. At the firstglance, he saw that the latter was displeased, perhaps because he hadbeen kept waiting. The prince apologized, and quickly took a seat. Heseemed strangely timid before the general this morning, for some reason, and felt as though his visitor were some piece of china which he wasafraid of breaking. 

On scrutinizing him, the prince soon saw that the general was quite adifferent man from what he had been the day before; he looked like onewho had come to some momentous resolve. His calmness, however, was moreapparent than real. He was courteous, but there was a suggestion ofinjured innocence in his manner. 

"I've brought your book back, " he began, indicating a book lying on thetable. "Much obliged to you for lending it to me. "

"Ah, yes. Well, did you read it, general? It's curious, isn't it?" saidthe prince, delighted to be able to open up conversation upon an outsidesubject. 

"Curious enough, yes, but crude, and of course dreadful nonsense;probably the man lies in every other sentence. "

The general spoke with considerable confidence, and dragged his wordsout with a conceited drawl. 

"Oh, but it's only the simple tale of an old soldier who saw the Frenchenter Moscow. Some of his remarks were wonderfully interesting. Remarksof an eye-witness are always valuable, whoever he be, don't you think so?"

"Had I been the publisher I should not have printed it. As to theevidence of eye-witnesses, in these days people prefer impudent lies tothe stories of men of worth and long service. I know of some notes ofthe year 1812, which--I have determined, prince, to leave this house, Mr. Lebedeff's house. "

The general looked significantly at his host. 

"Of course you have your own lodging at Pavlofsk at--at your daughter'shouse, " began the prince, quite at a loss what to say. He suddenlyrecollected that the general had come for advice on a most importantmatter, affecting his destiny. 

"At my wife's; in other words, at my own place, my daughter's house. "

"I beg your pardon, I--"

"I leave Lebedeff's house, my dear prince, because I have quarrelledwith this person. I broke with him last night, and am very sorry that Idid not do so before. I expect respect, prince, even from those to whomI give my heart, so to speak. Prince, I have often given away my heart, and am nearly always deceived. This person was quite unworthy of thegift. "

"There is much that might be improved in him, " said the prince, moderately, "but he has some qualities which--though amid them onecannot but discern a cunning nature--reveal what is often a divertingintellect. "

The prince's tone was so natural and respectful that the general couldnot possibly suspect him of any insincerity. 

"Oh, that he possesses good traits, I was the first to show, when I verynearly made him a present of my friendship. I am not dependent upon hishospitality, and upon his house; I have my own family. I do not attemptto justify my own weakness. I have drunk with this man, and perhaps Ideplore the fact now, but I did not take him up for the sake of drinkalone (excuse the crudeness of the expression, prince); I did not makefriends with him for that alone. I was attracted by his good qualities;but when the fellow declares that he was a child in 1812, and had hisleft leg cut off, and buried in the Vagarkoff cemetery, in Moscow, such a cock-and-bull story amounts to disrespect, my dear sir, to--toimpudent exaggeration. "

"Oh, he was very likely joking; he said it for fun. "

"I quite understand you. You mean that an innocent lie for the sake of agood joke is harmless, and does not offend the human heart. Some peoplelie, if you like to put it so, out of pure friendship, in order to amusetheir fellows; but when a man makes use of extravagance in order to showhis disrespect and to make clear how the intimacy bores him, it is timefor a man of honour to break off the said intimacy. , and to teach theoffender his place. "

The general flushed with indignation as he spoke. 

"Oh, but Lebedeff cannot have been in Moscow in 1812. He is much tooyoung; it is all nonsense. "

"Very well, but even if we admit that he was alive in 1812, can onebelieve that a French chasseur pointed a cannon at him for a lark, andshot his left leg off? He says he picked his own leg up and took it awayand buried it in the cemetery. He swore he had a stone put up overit with the inscription: 'Here lies the leg of Collegiate SecretaryLebedeff, ' and on the other side, 'Rest, beloved ashes, till the morn ofjoy, ' and that he has a service read over it every year (which is simplysacrilege), and goes to Moscow once a year on purpose. He invites me toMoscow in order to prove his assertion, and show me his leg's tomb, andthe very cannon that shot him; he says it's the eleventh from thegate of the Kremlin, an old-fashioned falconet taken from the Frenchafterwards. "

"And, meanwhile both his legs are still on his body, " said the prince, laughing. "I assure you, it is only an innocent joke, and you need notbe angry about it. "

"Excuse me--wait a minute--he says that the leg we see is a wooden one, made by Tchernosvitoff. "

"They do say one can dance with those!"

"Quite so, quite so; and he swears that his wife never found out thatone of his legs was wooden all the while they were married. When Ishowed him the ridiculousness of all this, he said, 'Well, if you wereone of Napoleon's pages in 1812, you might let me bury my leg in theMoscow cemetery. '

"Why, did you say--" began the prince, and paused in confusion. 

The general gazed at his host disdainfully. 

"Oh, go on, " he said, "finish your sentence, by all means. Say how oddit appears to you that a man fallen to such a depth of humiliation asI, can ever have been the actual eye-witness of great events. Go on, Idon't mind! Has he found time to tell you scandal about me?"

"No, I've heard nothing of this from Lebedeff, if you mean Lebedeff. "

"H'm; I thought differently. You see, we were talking over this periodof history. I was criticizing a current report of something which thenhappened, and having been myself an eye-witness of the occurrence--youare smiling, prince--you are looking at my face as if--"

"Oh no! not at all--I--"

"I am rather young-looking, I know; but I am actually older than Iappear to be. I was ten or eleven in the year 1812. I don't know my ageexactly, but it has always been a weakness of mine to make it out lessthan it really is. 

"I assure you, general, I do not in the least doubt your statement. Oneof our living autobiographers states that when he was a small baby inMoscow in 1812 the French soldiers fed him with bread. "

"Well, there you see!" said the general, condescendingly. "There isnothing whatever unusual about my tale. Truth very often appears tobe impossible. I was a page--it sounds strange, I dare say. Had I beenfifteen years old I should probably have been terribly frightenedwhen the French arrived, as my mother was (who had been too slow aboutclearing out of Moscow); but as I was only just ten I was not in theleast alarmed, and rushed through the crowd to the very door of thepalace when Napoleon alighted from his horse. "

"Undoubtedly, at ten years old you would not have felt the sense offear, as you say, " blurted out the prince, horribly uncomfortable in thesensation that he was just about to blush. 

"Of course; and it all happened so easily and naturally. And yet, werea novelist to describe the episode, he would put in all kinds ofimpossible and incredible details. "

"Oh, " cried the prince, "I have often thought that! Why, I know of amurder, for the sake of a watch. It's in all the papers now. But ifsome writer had invented it, all the critics would have jumped down histhroat and said the thing was too improbable for anything. And yet youread it in the paper, and you can't help thinking that out of thesestrange disclosures is to be gained the full knowledge of Russian lifeand character. You said that well, general; it is so true, " concludedthe prince, warmly, delighted to have found a refuge from the fieryblushes which had covered his face. 

"Yes, it's quite true, isn't it?" cried the general, his eyes sparklingwith gratification. "A small boy, a child, would naturally realize nodanger; he would shove his way through the crowds to see the shine andglitter of the uniforms, and especially the great man of whom everyonewas speaking, for at that time all the world had been talking of no onebut this man for some years past. The world was full of his name; I--soto speak--drew it in with my mother's milk. Napoleon, passing a coupleof paces from me, caught sight of me accidentally. I was very welldressed, and being all alone, in that crowd, as you will easilyimagine. . . 

"Oh, of course! Naturally the sight impressed him, and proved to himthat not ALL the aristocracy had left Moscow; that at least some noblesand their children had remained behind. "

Just so just so! He wanted to win over the aristocracy! When his eagleeye fell on me, mine probably flashed back in response. ' Voila un garconbien eveille! Qui est ton pere?' I immediately replied, almost pantingwith excitement, 'A general, who died on the battle-fields of hiscountry! "Le fils d'un boyard et d'un brave, pardessus le marche. J'aimeles boyards. M'aimes-tu, petit?' To this keen question I replied askeenly, 'The Russian heart can recognize a great man even in the bitterenemy of his country. ' At least, I don't remember the exact words, you know, but the idea was as I say. Napoleon was struck; he thoughta minute and then said to his suite: 'I like that boy's pride; if allRussians think like this child', then he didn't finish, but went on andentered the palace. I instantly mixed with his suite, and followed him. I was already in high favour. I remember when he came into the firsthall, the emperor stopped before a portrait of the Empress Katherine, and after a thoughtful glance remarked, 'That was a great woman, ' andpassed on. 

"Well, in a couple of days I was known all over the palace and theKremlin as 'le petit boyard. ' I only went home to sleep. They werenearly out of their minds about me at home. A couple of days after this, Napoleon's page, De Bazancour, died; he had not been able to stand thetrials of the campaign. Napoleon remembered me; I was taken away withoutexplanation; the dead page's uniform was tried on me, and when I wastaken before the emperor, dressed in it, he nodded his head to me, and Iwas told that I was appointed to the vacant post of page. 

"Well, I was glad enough, for I had long felt the greatest sympathy forthis man; and then the pretty uniform and all that--only a child, youknow--and so on. It was a dark green dress coat with gold buttons--redfacings, white trousers, and a white silk waistcoat--silk stockings, shoes with buckles, and top-boots if I were riding out with his majestyor with the suite. 

"Though the position of all of us at that time was not particularlybrilliant, and the poverty was dreadful all round, yet the etiquette atcourt was strictly preserved, and the more strictly in proportion to thegrowth of the forebodings of disaster. "

"Quite so, quite so, of course!" murmured the poor prince, who didn'tknow where to look. "Your memoirs would be most interesting. "

The general was, of course, repeating what he had told Lebedeff thenight before, and thus brought it out glibly enough, but here he lookedsuspiciously at the prince out of the corners of his eyes. 

"My memoirs!" he began, with redoubled pride and dignity. "Write mymemoirs? The idea has not tempted me. And yet, if you please, my memoirshave long been written, but they shall not see the light until dustreturns to dust. Then, I doubt not, they will be translated into alllanguages, not of course on account of their actual literary merit, butbecause of the great events of which I was the actual witness, thoughbut a child at the time. As a child, I was able to penetrate into thesecrecy of the great man's private room. At nights I have heard thegroans and wailings of this 'giant in distress. ' He could feel no shamein weeping before such a mere child as I was, though I understood eventhen that the reason for his suffering was the silence of the EmperorAlexander. "

"Yes, of course; he had written letters to the latter with proposals ofpeace, had he not?" put in the prince. 

"We did not know the details of his proposals, but he wrote letter afterletter, all day and every day. He was dreadfully agitated. Sometimes atnight I would throw myself upon his breast with tears (Oh, how Iloved that man!). 'Ask forgiveness, Oh, ask forgiveness of the EmperorAlexander!' I would cry. I should have said, of course, 'Make peacewith Alexander, ' but as a child I expressed my idea in the naive wayrecorded. 'Oh, my child, ' he would say (he loved to talk to me andseemed to forget my tender years), 'Oh, my child, I am ready to kissAlexander's feet, but I hate and abominate the King of Prussia and theAustrian Emperor, and--and--but you know nothing of politics, my child. 'He would pull up, remembering whom he was speaking to, but his eyeswould sparkle for a long while after this. Well now, if I were todescribe all this, and I have seen greater events than these, all thesecritical gentlemen of the press and political parties--Oh, no thanks!I'm their very humble servant, but no thanks!"

"Quite so--parties--you are very right, " said the prince. "I was readinga book about Napoleon and the Waterloo campaign only the other day, byCharasse, in which the author does not attempt to conceal his joy atNapoleon's discomfiture at every page. Well now, I don't like that;it smells of 'party, ' you know. You are quite right. And were you muchoccupied with your service under Napoleon?"

The general was in ecstasies, for the prince's remarks, made, as theyevidently were, in all seriousness and simplicity, quite dissipated thelast relics of his suspicion. 

"I know Charasse's book! Oh! I was so angry with his work! I wrote tohim and said--I forget what, at this moment. You ask whether I was verybusy under the Emperor? Oh no! I was called 'page, ' but hardly took myduty seriously. Besides, Napoleon very soon lost hope of conciliatingthe Russians, and he would have forgotten all about me had he not lovedme--for personal reasons--I don't mind saying so now. My heart wasgreatly drawn to him, too. My duties were light. I merely had to be atthe palace occasionally to escort the Emperor out riding, and thatwas about all. I rode very fairly well. He used to have a ride beforedinner, and his suite on those occasions were generally Davoust, myself, and Roustan. "

"Constant?" said the prince, suddenly, and quite involuntarily. 

"No; Constant was away then, taking a letter to the Empress Josephine. Instead of him there were always a couple of orderlies--and that wasall, excepting, of course, the generals and marshals whom Napoleonalways took with him for the inspection of various localities, andfor the sake of consultation generally. I remember there wasone--Davoust--nearly always with him--a big man with spectacles. Theyused to argue and quarrel sometimes. Once they were in the Emperor'sstudy together--just those two and myself--I was unobserved--andthey argued, and the Emperor seemed to be agreeing to something underprotest. Suddenly his eye fell on me and an idea seemed to flash acrosshim. 

"'Child, ' he said, abruptly. 'If I were to recognize the Russianorthodox religion and emancipate the serfs, do you think Russia wouldcome over to me?'"

"'Never!' I cried, indignantly. "

"The Emperor was much struck. "

"'In the flashing eyes of this patriotic child I read and accept thefiat of the Russian people. Enough, Davoust, it is mere phantasy on ourpart. Come, let's hear your other project. '"

"'Yes, but that was a great idea, " said the prince, clearly interested. "You ascribe it to Davoust, do you?"

"Well, at all events, they were consulting together at the time. Ofcourse it was the idea of an eagle, and must have originated withNapoleon; but the other project was good too--it was the 'Conseil dulion!' as Napoleon called it. This project consisted in a proposalto occupy the Kremlin with the whole army; to arm and fortify itscientifically, to kill as many horses as could be got, and salt theirflesh, and spend the winter there; and in spring to fight their way out. Napoleon liked the idea--it attracted him. We rode round the Kremlinwalls every day, and Napoleon used to give orders where they were to bepatched, where built up, where pulled down and so on. All was decided atlast. They were alone together--those two and myself. 

"Napoleon was walking up and down with folded arms. I could not take myeyes off his face--my heart beat loudly and painfully. 

"'I'm off, ' said Davoust. 'Where to?' asked Napoleon. 

"'To salt horse-flesh, ' said Davoust. Napoleon shuddered--his fate wasbeing decided. 

"'Child, ' he addressed me suddenly, 'what do you think of our plan?' Ofcourse he only applied to me as a sort of toss-up, you know. I turned toDavoust and addressed my reply to him. I said, as though inspired:

"'Escape, general! Go home!--'

"The project was abandoned; Davoust shrugged his shoulders and went out, whispering to himself--'Bah, il devient superstitieux!' Next morning theorder to retreat was given. "

"All this is most interesting, " said the prince, very softly, "if itreally was so--that is, I mean--" he hastened to correct himself. 

"Oh, my dear prince, " cried the general, who was now so intoxicated withhis own narrative that he probably could not have pulled up at the mostpatent indiscretion. 

"You say, if it really was so!' There was more--much more, I assureyou! These are merely a few little political acts. I tell you I was theeye-witness of the nightly sorrow and groanings of the great man, andof that no one can speak but myself. Towards the end he wept no more, though he continued to emit an occasional groan; but his face grew moreovercast day by day, as though Eternity were wrapping its gloomy mantleabout him. Occasionally we passed whole hours of silence together atnight, Roustan snoring in the next room--that fellow slept like a pig. 'But he's loyal to me and my dynasty, ' said Napoleon of him. 

"Sometimes it was very painful to me, and once he caught me with tearsin my eyes. He looked at me kindly. 'You are sorry for me, ' he said, 'you, my child, and perhaps one other child--my son, the King ofRome--may grieve for me. All the rest hate me; and my brothers are thefirst to betray me in misfortune. ' I sobbed and threw myself into hisarms. He could not resist me--he burst into tears, and our tears mingledas we folded each other in a close embrace. 

"'Write, oh, write a letter to the Empress Josephine!' I cried, sobbing. Napoleon started, reflected, and said, 'You remind me of a third heartwhich loves me. Thank you, my friend;' and then and there he sat downand wrote that letter to Josephine, with which Constant was sent offnext day. "

"You did a good action, " said the prince, "for in the midst of his angryfeelings you insinuated a kind thought into his heart. "

"Just so, prince, just so. How well you bring out that fact! Becauseyour own heart is good!" cried the ecstatic old gentleman, and, strangely enough, real tears glistened in his eyes. "Yes, prince, it wasa wonderful spectacle. And, do you know, I all but went off to Paris, and should assuredly have shared his solitary exile with him; but, alas, our destinies were otherwise ordered! We parted, he to his island, where I am sure he thought of the weeping child who had embraced himso affectionately at parting in Moscow; and I was sent off to the cadetcorps, where I found nothing but roughness and harsh discipline. Alas, my happy days were done!"

"'I do not wish to deprive your mother of you, and, therefore, I willnot ask you to go with me, ' he said, the morning of his departure, 'butI should like to do something for you. ' He was mounting his horse ashe spoke. 'Write something in my sister's album for me, ' I said rathertimidly, for he was in a state of great dejection at the moment. Heturned, called for a pen, took the album. 'How old is your sister?'he asked, holding the pen in his hand. 'Three years old, ' I said. 'Ah, petite fille alors!' and he wrote in the album:

'Ne mentes jamais! NAPOLEON (votre ami sincere). '

"Such advice, and at such a moment, you must allow, prince, was--"

"Yes, quite so; very remarkable. "

"This page of the album, framed in gold, hung on the wall of my sister'sdrawing-room all her life, in the most conspicuous place, till the dayof her death; where it is now, I really don't know. Heavens! it's twoo'clock! _How_ I have kept you, prince! It is really most unpardonable ofme. "

The general rose. 

"Oh, not in the least, " said the prince. "On the contrary, I have beenso much interested, I'm really very much obliged to you. "

"Prince, ", said the general, pressing his hand, and looking at him withflashing eyes, and an expression as though he were under the influenceof a sudden thought which had come upon him with stunning force. "Prince, you are so kind, so simple-minded, that sometimes I reallyfeel sorry for you! I gaze at you with a feeling of real affection. Oh, Heaven bless you! May your life blossom and fructify in love. Mine isover. Forgive me, forgive me!"

He left the room quickly, covering his face with his hands. 

The prince could not doubt the sincerity of his agitation. Heunderstood, too, that the old man had left the room intoxicated with hisown success. The general belonged to that class of liars, who, in spiteof their transports of lying, invariably suspect that they are notbelieved. On this occasion, when he recovered from his exaltation, hewould probably suspect Muishkin of pitying him, and feel insulted. 

"Have I been acting rightly in allowing him to develop such vastresources of imagination?" the prince asked himself. But his answer wasa fit of violent laughter which lasted ten whole minutes. He tried toreproach himself for the laughing fit, but eventually concluded that heneedn't do so, since in spite of it he was truly sorry for the old man. The same evening he received a strange letter, short but decided. Thegeneral informed him that they must part for ever; that he was grateful, but that even from him he could not accept "signs of sympathy which werehumiliating to the dignity of a man already miserable enough. "

When the prince heard that the old man had gone to Nina Alexandrovna, though, he felt almost easy on his account. 

We have seen, however, that the general paid a visit to LizabethaProkofievna and caused trouble there, the final upshot being that hefrightened Mrs. Epanchin, and angered her by bitter hints as to his sonGania. 

He had been turned out in disgrace, eventually, and this was thecause of his bad night and quarrelsome day, which ended in his suddendeparture into the street in a condition approaching insanity, asrecorded before. 

Colia did not understand the position. He tried severity with hisfather, as they stood in the street after the latter had cursed thehousehold, hoping to bring him round that way. 

"Well, where are we to go to now, father?" he asked. "You don't wantto go to the prince's; you have quarrelled with Lebedeff; you have nomoney; I never have any; and here we are in the middle of the road, in anice sort of mess. "

"Better to be of a mess than in a mess! I remember making a jokesomething like that at the mess in eighteen hundred and forty--forty--Iforget. 'Where is my youth, where is my golden youth?' Who was it saidthat, Colia?"

"It was Gogol, in Dead Souls, father, " cried Colia, glancing at him insome alarm. 

"'Dead Souls, ' yes, of course, dead. When I die, Colia, you must engraveon my tomb:

"'Here lies a Dead Soul, Shame pursues me. '

"Who said that, Colia?"

"I don't know, father. "

"There was no Eropegoff? Eroshka Eropegoff?" he cried, suddenly, stopping in the road in a frenzy. "No Eropegoff! And my own son to sayit! Eropegoff was in the place of a brother to me for eleven months. Ifought a duel for him. He was married afterwards, and then killed on thefield of battle. The bullet struck the cross on my breast and glancedoff straight into his temple. 'I'll never forget you, ' he cried, andexpired. I served my country well and honestly, Colia, but shame, shamehas pursued me! You and Nina will come to my grave, Colia; poor Nina, I always used to call her Nina in the old days, and how she loved. . . . Nina, Nina, oh, Nina. What have I ever done to deserve your forgivenessand long-suffering? Oh, Colia, your mother has an angelic spirit, anangelic spirit, Colia!"

"I know that, father. Look here, dear old father, come back home! Let'sgo back to mother. Look, she ran after us when we came out. What haveyou stopped her for, just as though you didn't take in what I said? Whyare you crying, father?"

Poor Colia cried himself, and kissed the old man's hands

"You kiss my hands, MINE?"

"Yes, yes, yours, yours! What is there to surprise anyone in that? Come, come, you mustn't go on like this, crying in the middle of the road; andyou a general too, a military man! Come, let's go back. "

"God bless you, dear boy, for being respectful to a disgraced man. Yes, to a poor disgraced old fellow, your father. You shall have such a sonyourself; le roi de Rome. Oh, curses on this house!"

"Come, come, what does all this mean?" cried Colia beside himself atlast. "What is it? What has happened to you? Why don't you wish to comeback home? Why have you gone out of your mind, like this?"

"I'll explain it, I'll explain all to you. Don't shout! You shall hear. Le roi de Rome. Oh, I am sad, I am melancholy!

"'Nurse, where is your tomb?'"

"Who said that, Colia?"

"I don't know, I don't know who said it. Come home at once; come on!I'll punch Gania's head myself, if you like--only come. Oh, where areyou off to again?" The general was dragging him away towards the door ahouse near. He sat down on the step, still holding Colia by the hand. 

"Bend down--bend down your ear. I'll tell you all--disgrace--bend down, I'll tell you in your ear. "

"What are you dreaming of?" said poor, frightened Colia, stooping downtowards the old man, all the same. 

"Le roi de Rome, " whispered the general, trembling all over. 

"What? What DO you mean? What roi de Rome?"

"I-I, " the general continued to whisper, clinging more and moretightly to the boy's shoulder. "I--wish--to tell you--all--Maria--MariaPetrovna--Su--Su--Su. . . . . . . "

Colia broke loose, seized his father by the shoulders, and stared intohis eyes with frenzied gaze. The old man had grown livid--his lips wereshaking, convulsions were passing over his features. Suddenly he leantover and began to sink slowly into Colia's arms. 

"He's got a stroke!" cried Colia, loudly, realizing what was the matterat last. 

V. 

IN point of fact, Varia had rather exaggerated the certainty of hernews as to the prince's betrothal to Aglaya. Very likely, with theperspicacity of her sex, she gave out as an accomplished fact what shefelt was pretty sure to become a fact in a few days. Perhaps she couldnot resist the satisfaction of pouring one last drop of bitterness intoher brother Gania's cup, in spite of her love for him. At all events, she had been unable to obtain any definite news from the Epanchingirls--the most she could get out of them being hints and surmises, andso on. Perhaps Aglaya's sisters had merely been pumping Varia for newswhile pretending to impart information; or perhaps, again, they had beenunable to resist the feminine gratification of teasing a friend--for, after all this time, they could scarcely have helped divining the aim ofher frequent visits. 

On the other hand, the prince, although he had told Lebedeff, --as weknow, that nothing had happened, and that he had nothing to impart, --theprince may have been in error. Something strange seemed to havehappened, without anything definite having actually happened. Varia hadguessed that with her true feminine instinct. 

How or why it came about that everyone at the Epanchins' became imbuedwith one conviction--that something very important had happened toAglaya, and that her fate was in process of settlement--it would be verydifficult to explain. But no sooner had this idea taken root, than allat once declared that they had seen and observed it long ago; that theyhad remarked it at the time of the "poor knight" joke, and even before, though they had been unwilling to believe in such nonsense. 

So said the sisters. Of course, Lizabetha Prokofievna had foreseen itlong before the rest; her "heart had been sore" for a long while, she declared, and it was now so sore that she appeared to be quiteoverwhelmed, and the very thought of the prince became distasteful toher. 

There was a question to be decided--most important, but most difficult;so much so, that Mrs. Epanchin did not even see how to put it intowords. Would the prince do or not? Was all this good or bad? If good(which might be the case, of course), WHY good? If bad (which washardly doubtful), WHEREIN, especially, bad? Even the general, thepaterfamilias, though astonished at first, suddenly declared that, "uponhis honour, he really believed he had fancied something of the kind, after all. At first, it seemed a new idea, and then, somehow, it lookedas familiar as possible. " His wife frowned him down there. This wasin the morning; but in the evening, alone with his wife, he had giventongue again. 

"Well, really, you know"--(silence)--"of course, you know all this isvery strange, if true, which I cannot deny; but"--(silence). --"But, on the other hand, if one looks things in the face, you know--upon myhonour, the prince is a rare good fellow--and--and--and--well, his name, you know--your family name--all this looks well, and perpetuates thename and title and all that--which at this moment is not standing sohigh as it might--from one point of view--don't you know? The world, the world is the world, of course--and people will talk--and--and--theprince has property, you know--if it is not very large--and thenhe--he--" (Continued silence, and collapse of the general. )

Hearing these words from her husband, Lizabetha Prokofievna was drivenbeside herself. 

According to her opinion, the whole thing had been one huge, fantastical, absurd, unpardonable mistake. "First of all, this prince isan idiot, and, secondly, he is a fool--knows nothing of the world, andhas no place in it. Whom can he be shown to? Where can you take him to?What will old Bielokonski say? We never thought of such a husband asTHAT for our Aglaya!"

Of course, the last argument was the chief one. The maternal hearttrembled with indignation to think of such an absurdity, although inthat heart there rose another voice, which said: "And WHY is not theprince such a husband as you would have desired for Aglaya?" It was thisvoice which annoyed Lizabetha Prokofievna more than anything else. 

For some reason or other, the sisters liked the idea of the prince. Theydid not even consider it very strange; in a word, they might be expectedat any moment to range themselves strongly on his side. But both of themdecided to say nothing either way. It had always been noticed in thefamily that the stronger Mrs. Epanchin's opposition was to any project, the nearer she was, in reality, to giving in. 

Alexandra, however, found it difficult to keep absolute silence onthe subject. Long since holding, as she did, the post of "confidentialadviser to mamma, " she was now perpetually called in council, and askedher opinion, and especially her assistance, in order to recollect "howon earth all this happened?" Why did no one see it? Why did no one sayanything about it? What did all that wretched "poor knight" joke mean?Why was she, Lizabetha Prokofievna, driven to think, and foresee, andworry for everybody, while they all sucked their thumbs, and counted thecrows in the garden, and did nothing? At first, Alexandra had been verycareful, and had merely replied that perhaps her father's remark was notso far out: that, in the eyes of the world, probably the choice of theprince as a husband for one of the Epanchin girls would be considered avery wise one. Warming up, however, she added that the prince was by nomeans a fool, and never had been; and that as to "place in the world, "no one knew what the position of a respectable person in Russia wouldimply in a few years--whether it would depend on successes in thegovernment service, on the old system, or what. 

To all this her mother replied that Alexandra was a freethinker, andthat all this was due to that "cursed woman's rights question. "

Half an hour after this conversation, she went off to town, and thenceto the Kammenny Ostrof, ["Stone Island, " a suburb and park of St. Petersburg] to see Princess Bielokonski, who had just arrived fromMoscow on a short visit. The princess was Aglaya's godmother. 

"Old Bielokonski" listened to all the fevered and despairing lamentationsof Lizabetha Prokofievna without the least emotion; the tears of thissorrowful mother did not evoke answering sighs--in fact, she laughed ather. She was a dreadful old despot, this princess; she could not allowequality in anything, not even in friendship of the oldest standing, andshe insisted on treating Mrs. Epanchin as her protegee, as she had beenthirty-five years ago. She could never put up with the independence andenergy of Lizabetha's character. She observed that, as usual, the wholefamily had gone much too far ahead, and had converted a fly into anelephant; that, so far as she had heard their story, she was persuadedthat nothing of any seriousness had occurred; that it would surelybe better to wait until something _did_ happen; that the prince, inher opinion, was a very decent young fellow, though perhaps a littleeccentric, through illness, and not quite as weighty in the world as onecould wish. The worst feature was, she said, Nastasia Philipovna. 

Lizabetha Prokofievna well understood that the old lady was angry at thefailure of Evgenie Pavlovitch--her own recommendation. She returnedhome to Pavlofsk in a worse humour than when she left, and of courseeverybody in the house suffered. She pitched into everyone, because, shedeclared, they had 'gone mad. ' Why were things always mismanaged in herhouse? Why had everybody been in such a frantic hurry in this matter?So far as she could see, nothing whatever had happened. Surely they hadbetter wait and see what was to happen, instead of making mountains outof molehills. 

And so the conclusion of the matter was that it would be far better totake it quietly, and wait coolly to see what would turn up. But, alas!peace did not reign for more than ten minutes. The first blow dealt toits power was in certain news communicated to Lizabetha Prokofievna asto events which bad happened during her trip to see the princess. (Thistrip had taken place the day after that on which the prince had turnedup at the Epanchins at nearly one o'clock at night, thinking it wasnine. )

The sisters replied candidly and fully enough to their mother'simpatient questions on her return. They said, in the first place, thatnothing particular had happened since her departure; that the princehad been, and that Aglaya had kept him waiting a long while beforeshe appeared--half an hour, at least; that she had then come in, andimmediately asked the prince to have a game of chess; that the princedid not know the game, and Aglaya had beaten him easily; that she hadbeen in a wonderfully merry mood, and had laughed at the prince, andchaffed him so unmercifully that one was quite sorry to see his wretchedexpression. 

She had then asked him to play cards--the game called "little fools. "At this game the tables were turned completely, for the prince had shownhimself a master at it. Aglaya had cheated and changed cards, and stolenothers, in the most bare-faced way, but, in spite of everything theprince had beaten her hopelessly five times running, and she had beenleft "little fool" each time. 

Aglaya then lost her temper, and began to say such awful things to theprince that he laughed no more, but grew dreadfully pale, especiallywhen she said that she should not remain in the house with him, and thathe ought to be ashamed of coming to their house at all, especially atnight, "AFTER ALL THAT HAD HAPPENED. "

So saying, she had left the room, banging the door after her, and theprince went off, looking as though he were on his way to a funeral, inspite of all their attempts at consolation. 

Suddenly, a quarter of an hour after the prince's departure, Aglaya hadrushed out of her room in such a hurry that she had not even wiped hereyes, which were full of tears. She came back because Colia had broughta hedgehog. Everybody came in to see the hedgehog. In answer to theirquestions Colia explained that the hedgehog was not his, and that he hadleft another boy, Kostia Lebedeff, waiting for him outside. Kostia wastoo shy to come in, because he was carrying a hatchet; they had boughtthe hedgehog and the hatchet from a peasant whom they had met on theroad. He had offered to sell them the hedgehog, and they had paid fiftycopecks for it; and the hatchet had so taken their fancy that they hadmade up their minds to buy it of their own accord. On hearing this, Aglaya urged Colia to sell her the hedgehog; she even called him "dearColia, " in trying to coax him. He refused for a long time, but at lasthe could hold out no more, and went to fetch Kostia Lebedeff. The latterappeared, carrying his hatchet, and covered with confusion. Then it cameout that the hedgehog was not theirs, but the property of a schoolmate, one Petroff, who had given them some money to buy Schlosser's Historyfor him, from another schoolfellow who at that moment was driven toraising money by the sale of his books. Colia and Kostia were about tomake this purchase for their friend when chance brought the hedgehogto their notice, and they had succumbed to the temptation of buying it. They were now taking Petroff the hedgehog and hatchet which they hadbought with his money, instead of Schiosser's History. But Aglaya soentreated them that at last they consented to sell her the hedgehog. Assoon as she had got possession of it, she put it in a wicker basket withColia's help, and covered it with a napkin. Then she said to Colia: "Goand take this hedgehog to the prince from me, and ask him to accept itas a token of my profound respect. " Colia joyfully promised to do theerrand, but he demanded explanations. "What does the hedgehog mean? Whatis the meaning of such a present?" Aglaya replied that it was none ofhis business. "I am sure that there is some allegory about it, " Coliapersisted. Aglaya grew angry, and called him "a silly boy. " "If I didnot respect all women in your person, " replied Colia, "and if my ownprinciples would permit it, I would soon prove to you, that I know howto answer such an insult!" But, in the end, Colia went off with thehedgehog in great delight, followed by Kostia Lebedeff. Aglaya'sannoyance was soon over, and seeing that Colia was swinging thehedgehog's basket violently to and fro, she called out to him from theverandah, as if they had never quarrelled: "Colia, dear, please takecare not to drop him!" Colia appeared to have no grudge against her, either, for he stopped, and answered most cordially: "No, I will notdrop him! Don't be afraid, Aglaya Ivanovna!" After which he went on hisway. Aglaya burst out laughing and ran up to her room, highly delighted. Her good spirits lasted the whole day. 

All this filled poor Lizabetha's mind with chaotic confusion. What onearth did it all mean? The most disturbing feature was the hedgehog. What was the symbolic signification of a hedgehog? What did theyunderstand by it? What underlay it? Was it a cryptic message?

Poor General Epanchin "put his foot in it" by answering the abovequestions in his own way. He said there was no cryptic message atall. As for the hedgehog, it was just a hedgehog, which meantnothing--unless, indeed, it was a pledge of friendship, --the sign offorgetting of offences and so on. At all events, it was a joke, and, ofcourse, a most pardonable and innocent one. 

We may as well remark that the general had guessed perfectly accurately. 

The prince, returning home from the interview with Aglaya, had satgloomy and depressed for half an hour. He was almost in despair whenColia arrived with the hedgehog. 

Then the sky cleared in a moment. The prince seemed to arise from thedead; he asked Colia all about it, made him repeat the story over andover again, and laughed and shook hands with the boys in his delight. 

It seemed clear to the prince that Aglaya forgave him, and that he mightgo there again this very evening; and in his eyes that was not only themain thing, but everything in the world. 

"What children we are still, Colia!" he cried at last, enthusiastically, --"and how delightful it is that we can be childrenstill!"

"Simply--my dear prince, --simply she is in love with you, --that's thewhole of the secret!" replied Colia, with authority. 

The prince blushed, but this time he said nothing. Colia burst outlaughing and clapped his hands. A minute later the prince laughed too, and from this moment until the evening he looked at his watch everyother minute to see how much time he had to wait before evening came. 

But the situation was becoming rapidly critical. 

Mrs. Epanchin could bear her suspense no longer, and in spite of theopposition of husband and daughters, she sent for Aglaya, determined toget a straightforward answer out of her, once for all. 

"Otherwise, " she observed hysterically, "I shall die before evening. "

It was only now that everyone realized to what a ridiculous dead-lockthe whole matter had been brought. Excepting feigned surprise, indignation, laughter, and jeering--both at the prince and at everyonewho asked her questions, --nothing could be got out of Aglaya. 

Lizabetha Prokofievna went to bed and only rose again in time for tea, when the prince might be expected. 

She awaited him in trembling agitation; and when he at last arrived shenearly went off into hysterics. 

Muishkin himself came in very timidly. He seemed to feel his way, andlooked in each person's eyes in a questioning way, --for Aglaya wasabsent, which fact alarmed him at once. 

This evening there were no strangers present--no one but the immediatemembers of the family. Prince S. Was still in town, occupied with theaffairs of Evgenie Pavlovitch's uncle. 

"I wish at least HE would come and say something!" complained poorLizabetha Prokofievna. 

The general sat still with a most preoccupied air. The sisters werelooking very serious and did not speak a word, and Lizabetha Prokofievnadid not know how to commence the conversation. 

At length she plunged into an energetic and hostile criticism ofrailways, and glared at the prince defiantly. 

Alas Aglaya still did not come--and the prince was quite lost. He hadthe greatest difficulty in expressing his opinion that railways weremost useful institutions, --and in the middle of his speech Adelaidalaughed, which threw him into a still worse state of confusion. 

At this moment in marched Aglaya, as calm and collected as could be. She gave the prince a ceremonious bow and solemnly took up aprominent position near the big round table. She looked at the princequestioningly. 

All present realized that the moment for the settlement of perplexitieshad arrived. 

"Did you get my hedgehog?" she inquired, firmly and almost angrily. 

"Yes, I got it, " said the prince, blushing. 

"Tell us now, at once, what you made of the present? I must have youanswer this question for mother's sake; she needs pacifying, and so doall the rest of the family!"

"Look here, Aglaya--" began the general. 

"This--this is going beyond all limits!" said Lizabetha Prokofievna, suddenly alarmed. 

"It is not in the least beyond all limits, mamma!" said her daughter, firmly. "I sent the prince a hedgehog this morning, and I wish to hearhis opinion of it. Go on, prince. "

"What--what sort of opinion, Aglaya Ivanovna?"

"About the hedgehog. "

"That is--I suppose you wish to know how I received the hedgehog, AglayaIvanovna, --or, I should say, how I regarded your sending him to me? Inthat case, I may tell you--in a word--that I--in fact--"

He paused, breathless. 

"Come--you haven't told us much!" said Aglaya, after waiting some fiveseconds. "Very well, I am ready to drop the hedgehog, if you like; butI am anxious to be able to clear up this accumulation ofmisunderstandings. Allow me to ask you, prince, --I wish to hear fromyou, personally--are you making me an offer, or not?"

"Gracious heavens!" exclaimed Lizabetha Prokofievna. The prince started. The general stiffened in his chair; the sisters frowned. 

"Don't deceive me now, prince--tell the truth. All these peoplepersecute me with astounding questions--about you. Is there any groundfor all these questions, or not? Come!"

"I have not asked you to marry me yet, Aglaya Ivanovna, " said theprince, becoming suddenly animated; "but you know yourself how much Ilove you and trust you. "

"No--I asked you this--answer this! Do you intend to ask for my band, ornot?"

"Yes--I do ask for it!" said the prince, more dead than alive now. 

There was a general stir in the room. 

"No--no--my dear girl, " began the general. "You cannot proceed likethis, Aglaya, if that's how the matter stands. It's impossible. Prince, forgive it, my dear fellow, but--Lizabetha Prokofievna!"--he appealed tohis spouse for help--"you must really--"

"Not I--not I! I retire from all responsibility, " said LizabethaProkofievna, with a wave of the hand. 

"Allow me to speak, please, mamma, " said Aglaya. "I think I ought tohave something to say in the matter. An important moment of my destinyis about to be decided"--(this is how Aglaya expressed herself)--"andI wish to find out how the matter stands, for my own sake, though I amglad you are all here. Allow me to ask you, prince, since you cherishthose intentions, how you consider that you will provide for myhappiness?"

"I--I don't quite know how to answer your question, Aglaya Ivanovna. What is there to say to such a question? And--and must I answer?"

"I think you are rather overwhelmed and out of breath. Have a littlerest, and try to recover yourself. Take a glass of water, or--butthey'll give you some tea directly. "

"I love you, Aglaya Ivanovna, --I love you very much. I love onlyyou--and--please don't jest about it, for I do love you very much. "

"Well, this matter is important. We are not children--we must look intoit thoroughly. Now then, kindly tell me--what does your fortune consistof?"

"No--Aglaya--come, enough of this, you mustn't behave like this, " saidher father, in dismay. 

"It's disgraceful, " said Lizabetha Prokofievna in a loud whisper. 

"She's mad--quite!" said Alexandra. 

"Fortune--money--do you mean?" asked the prince in some surprise. 

"Just so. "

"I have now--let's see--I have a hundred and thirty-five thousandroubles, " said the prince, blushing violently. 

"Is that all, really?" said Aglaya, candidly, without the slightestshow of confusion. "However, it's not so bad, especially if managed witheconomy. Do you intend to serve?"

"I--I intended to try for a certificate as private tutor. "

"Very good. That would increase our income nicely. Have you anyintention of being a Kammer-junker?"

"A Kammer-junker? I had not thought of it, but--"

But here the two sisters could restrain themselves no longer, and bothof them burst into irrepressible laughter. 

Adelaida had long since detected in Aglaya's features the gatheringsigns of an approaching storm of laughter, which she restrained withamazing self-control. 

Aglaya looked menacingly at her laughing sisters, but could not containherself any longer, and the next minute she too had burst into anirrepressible, and almost hysterical, fit of mirth. At length she jumpedup, and ran out of the room. 

"I knew it was all a joke!" cried Adelaida. "I felt it ever since--sincethe hedgehog. "

"No, no! I cannot allow this, --this is a little too much, " criedLizabetha Prokofievna, exploding with rage, and she rose from her seatand followed Aglaya out of the room as quickly as she could. 

The two sisters hurriedly went after her. 

The prince and the general were the only two persons left in the room. 

"It's--it's really--now could you have imagined anything like it, LefNicolaievitch?" cried the general. He was evidently so much agitatedthat he hardly knew what he wished to say. "Seriously now, seriously Imean--"

"I only see that Aglaya Ivanovna is laughing at me, " said the poorprince, sadly. 

"Wait a bit, my boy, I'll just go--you stay here, you know. But do justexplain, if you can, Lef Nicolaievitch, how in the world has all thiscome about? And what does it all mean? You must understand, my dearfellow; I am a father, you see, and I ought to be allowed to understandthe matter--do explain, I beg you!"

"I love Aglaya Ivanovna--she knows it, --and I think she must have longknown it. "

The general shrugged his shoulders. 

"Strange--it's strange, " he said, "and you love her very much?"

"Yes, very much. "

"Well--it's all most strange to me. That is--my dear fellow, it issuch a surprise--such a blow--that. . . You see, it is not your financialposition (though I should not object if you were a bit richer)--I amthinking of my daughter's happiness, of course, and the thing is--areyou able to give her the happiness she deserves? And then--is all thisa joke on her part, or is she in earnest? I don't mean on your side, buton hers. "

At this moment Alexandra's voice was heard outside the door, calling out"Papa!"

"Wait for me here, my boy--will you? Just wait and think it all over, and I'll come back directly, " he said hurriedly, and made off with whatlooked like the rapidity of alarm in response to Alexandra's call. 

He found the mother and daughter locked in one another's arms, minglingtheir tears. 

These were the tears of joy and peace and reconciliation. Aglaya waskissing her mother's lips and cheeks and hands; they were hugging eachother in the most ardent way. 

"There, look at her now--Ivan Fedorovitch! Here she is--all of her! Thisis our REAL Aglaya at last!" said Lizabetha Prokofievna. 

Aglaya raised her happy, tearful face from her mother's breast, glancedat her father, and burst out laughing. She sprang at him and hugged himtoo, and kissed him over and over again. She then rushed back to hermother and hid her face in the maternal bosom, and there indulged inmore tears. Her mother covered her with a corner of her shawl. 

"Oh, you cruel little girl! How will you treat us all next, I wonder?"she said, but she spoke with a ring of joy in her voice, and as thoughshe breathed at last without the oppression which she had felt so long. 

"Cruel?" sobbed Aglaya. "Yes, I AM cruel, and worthless, andspoiled--tell father so, --oh, here he is--I forgot Father, listen!" Shelaughed through her tears. 

"My darling, my little idol, " cried the general, kissing and fondlingher hands (Aglaya did not draw them away); "so you love this young man, do you?"

"No, no, no, can't BEAR him, I can't BEAR your young man!" criedAglaya, raising her head. "And if you dare say that ONCE more, papa--I'mserious, you know, I'm, --do you hear me--I'm serious!"

She certainly did seem to be serious enough. She had flushed up all overand her eyes were blazing. 

The general felt troubled and remained silent, while LizabethaProkofievna telegraphed to him from behind Aglaya to ask no questions. 

"If that's the case, darling--then, of course, you shall do exactly asyou like. He is waiting alone downstairs. Hadn't I better hint to himgently that he can go?" The general telegraphed to Lizabetha Prokofievnain his turn. 

"No, no, you needn't do anything of the sort; you mustn't hint gentlyat all. I'll go down myself directly. I wish to apologize to this youngman, because I hurt his feelings. "

"Yes, SERIOUSLY, " said the general, gravely. 

"Well, you'd better stay here, all of you, for a little, and I'll godown to him alone to begin with. I'll just go in and then you can followme almost at once. That's the best way. "

She had almost reached the door when she turned round again. 

"I shall laugh--I know I shall; I shall die of laughing, " she said, lugubriously. 

However, she turned and ran down to the prince as fast as her feet couldcarry her. 

"Well, what does it all mean? What do you make of it?" asked the generalof his spouse, hurriedly. 

"I hardly dare say, " said Lizabetha, as hurriedly, "but I think it's asplain as anything can be. "

"I think so too, as clear as day; she loves him. "

"Loves him? She is head over ears in love, that's what she is, " put inAlexandra. 

"Well, God bless her, God bless her, if such is her destiny, " saidLizabetha, crossing herself devoutly. 

"H'm destiny it is, " said the general, "and there's no getting out ofdestiny. "

With these words they all moved off towards the drawing-room, whereanother surprise awaited them. Aglaya had not only not laughed, as shehad feared, but had gone to the prince rather timidly, and said to him:

"Forgive a silly, horrid, spoilt girl"--(she took his hand here)--"andbe quite assured that we all of us esteem you beyond all words. And if Idared to turn your beautiful, admirable simplicity to ridicule, forgiveme as you would a little child its mischief. Forgive me all my absurdityof just now, which, of course, meant nothing, and could not have theslightest consequence. " She spoke these words with great emphasis. 

Her father, mother, and sisters came into the room and were much struckwith the last words, which they just caught as they entered--"absurditywhich of course meant nothing"--and still more so with the emphasis withwhich Aglaya had spoken. 

They exchanged glances questioningly, but the prince did not seem tohave understood the meaning of Aglaya's words; he was in the highestheaven of delight. 

"Why do you speak so?" he murmured. "Why do you ask my forgiveness?"

He wished to add that he was unworthy of being asked for forgivenessby her, but paused. Perhaps he did understand Aglaya's sentence about"absurdity which meant nothing, " and like the strange fellow that hewas, rejoiced in the words. 

Undoubtedly the fact that he might now come and see Aglaya as much ashe pleased again was quite enough to make him perfectly happy; that hemight come and speak to her, and see her, and sit by her, and walk withher--who knows, but that all this was quite enough to satisfy him forthe whole of his life, and that he would desire no more to the end oftime?

(Lizabetha Prokofievna felt that this might be the case, and she didn'tlike it; though very probably she could not have put the idea intowords. )

It would be difficult to describe the animation and high spirits whichdistinguished the prince for the rest of the evening. 

He was so happy that "it made one feel happy to look at him, " asAglaya's sisters expressed it afterwards. He talked, and told storiesjust as he had done once before, and never since, namely on the veryfirst morning of his acquaintance with the Epanchins, six months ago. Since his return to Petersburg from Moscow, he had been remarkablysilent, and had told Prince S. On one occasion, before everyone, that hedid not think himself justified in degrading any thought by his unworthywords. 

But this evening he did nearly all the talking himself, and told storiesby the dozen, while he answered all questions put to him clearly, gladly, and with any amount of detail. 

There was nothing, however, of love-making in his talk. His ideas wereall of the most serious kind; some were even mystical and profound. 

He aired his own views on various matters, some of his most privateopinions and observations, many of which would have seemed rather funny, so his hearers agreed afterwards, had they not been so well expressed. 

The general liked serious subjects of conversation; but both he andLizabetha Prokofievna felt that they were having a little too much of agood thing tonight, and as the evening advanced, they both grew moreor less melancholy; but towards night, the prince fell to telling funnystories, and was always the first to burst out laughing himself, whichhe invariably did so joyously and simply that the rest laughed just asmuch at him as at his stories. 

As for Aglaya, she hardly said a word all the evening; but she listenedwith all her ears to Lef Nicolaievitch's talk, and scarcely took hereyes off him. 

"She looked at him, and stared and stared, and hung on every word hesaid, " said Lizabetha afterwards, to her husband, "and yet, tell herthat she loves him, and she is furious!"

"What's to be done? It's fate, " said the general, shrugging hisshoulders, and, for a long while after, he continued to repeat: "It'sfate, it's fate!"

We may add that to a business man like General Epanchin the presentposition of affairs was most unsatisfactory. He hated the uncertainty inwhich they had been, perforce, left. However, he decided to say nomore about it, and merely to look on, and take his time and tune fromLizabetha Prokofievna. 

The happy state in which the family had spent the evening, as justrecorded, was not of very long duration. Next day Aglaya quarrelled withthe prince again, and so she continued to behave for the next few days. For whole hours at a time she ridiculed and chaffed the wretched man, and made him almost a laughing-stock. 

It is true that they used to sit in the little summer-house together foran hour or two at a time, very often, but it was observed that onthese occasions the prince would read the paper, or some book, aloud toAglaya. 

"Do you know, " Aglaya said to him once, interrupting the reading, "I'veremarked that you are dreadfully badly educated. You never know anythingthoroughly, if one asks you; neither anyone's name, nor dates, nor abouttreaties and so on. It's a great pity, you know!"

"I told you I had not had much of an education, " replied the prince. 

"How am I to respect you, if that's the case? Read on now. No--don't!Stop reading!"

And once more, that same evening, Aglaya mystified them all. Prince S. Had returned, and Aglaya was particularly amiable to him, and asked agreat deal after Evgenie Pavlovitch. (Muishkin had not come in as yet. )

Suddenly Prince S. Hinted something about "a new and approachingchange in the family. " He was led to this remark by a communicationinadvertently made to him by Lizabetha Prokofievna, that Adelaida'smarriage must be postponed a little longer, in order that the twoweddings might come off together. 

It is impossible to describe Aglaya's irritation. She flared up, andsaid some indignant words about "all these silly insinuations. "She added that "she had no intentions as yet of replacing anybody'smistress. "

These words painfully impressed the whole party; but especially herparents. Lizabetha Prokofievna summoned a secret council of two, andinsisted upon the general's demanding from the prince a full explanationof his relations with Nastasia Philipovna. The general argued that itwas only a whim of Aglaya's; and that, had not Prince S. Unfortunatelymade that remark, which had confused the child and made her blush, shenever would have said what she did; and that he was sure Aglaya knewwell that anything she might have heard of the prince and NastasiaPhilipovna was merely the fabrication of malicious tongues, and thatthe woman was going to marry Rogojin. He insisted that the prince hadnothing whatever to do with Nastasia Philipovna, so far as any liaisonwas concerned; and, if the truth were to be told about it, he added, never had had. 

Meanwhile nothing put the prince out, and he continued to be in theseventh heaven of bliss. Of course he could not fail to observe someimpatience and ill-temper in Aglaya now and then; but he believed insomething else, and nothing could now shake his conviction. Besides, Aglaya's frowns never lasted long; they disappeared of themselves. 

Perhaps he was too easy in his mind. So thought Hippolyte, at allevents, who met him in the park one day. 

"Didn't I tell you the truth now, when I said you were in love?" hesaid, coming up to Muishkin of his own accord, and stopping him. 

The prince gave him his hand and congratulated him upon "looking sowell. "

Hippolyte himself seemed to be hopeful about his state of health, as isoften the case with consumptives. 

He had approached the prince with the intention of talking sarcasticallyabout his happy expression of face, but very soon forgot his intentionand began to talk about himself. He began complaining about everything, disconnectedly and endlessly, as was his wont. 

"You wouldn't believe, " he concluded, "how irritating they all arethere. They are such wretchedly small, vain, egotistical, COMMONPLACEpeople! Would you believe it, they invited me there under the expresscondition that I should die quickly, and they are all as wild aspossible with me for not having died yet, and for being, on thecontrary, a good deal better! Isn't it a comedy? I don't mind bettingthat you don't believe me!"

The prince said nothing. 

"I sometimes think of coming over to you again, " said Hippolyte, carelessly. "So you DON'T think them capable of inviting a man on thecondition that he is to look sharp and die?"

"I certainly thought they invited you with quite other views. "

"Ho, ho! you are not nearly so simple as they try to make you out! Thisis not the time for it, or I would tell you a thing or two about thatbeauty, Gania, and his hopes. You are being undermined, pitilesslyundermined, and--and it is really melancholy to see you so calm aboutit. But alas! it's your nature--you can't help it!"

"My word! what a thing to be melancholy about! Why, do you think Ishould be any happier if I were to feel disturbed about the excavationsyou tell me of?"

"It is better to be unhappy and know the worst, than to be happy in afool's paradise! I suppose you don't believe that you have a rival inthat quarter?"

"Your insinuations as to rivalry are rather cynical, Hippolyte. I'msorry to say I have no right to answer you! As for Gania, I put it toyou, CAN any man have a happy mind after passing through what he has hadto suffer? I think that is the best way to look at it. He willchange yet, he has lots of time before him, and life is rich;besides--besides. . . " the prince hesitated. "As to being undermined, Idon't know what in the world you are driving at, Hippolyte. I think wehad better drop the subject!"

"Very well, we'll drop it for a while. You can't look at anything butin your exalted, generous way. You must put out your finger and touch athing before you'll believe it, eh? Ha! ha! ha! I suppose you despise medreadfully, prince, eh? What do you think?"

"Why? Because you have suffered more than we have?"

"No; because I am unworthy of my sufferings, if you like!"

"Whoever CAN suffer is worthy to suffer, I should think. Aglaya Ivanovnawished to see you, after she had read your confession, but--"

"She postponed the pleasure--I see--I quite understand!" said Hippolyte, hurriedly, as though he wished to banish the subject. "I hear--theytell me--that you read her all that nonsense aloud? Stupid @ bosh itwas--written in delirium. And I can't understand how anyone can be soI won't say CRUEL, because the word would be humiliating to myself, butwe'll say childishly vain and revengeful, as to REPROACH me with thisconfession, and use it as a weapon against me. Don't be afraid, I'm notreferring to yourself. "

"Oh, but I'm sorry you repudiate the confession, Hippolyte--it issincere; and, do you know, even the absurd parts of it--and these aremany" (here Hippolyte frowned savagely) "are, as it were, redeemed bysuffering--for it must have cost you something to admit what you theresay--great torture, perhaps, for all I know. Your motive must havebeen a very noble one all through. Whatever may have appeared to thecontrary, I give you my word, I see this more plainly every day. I donot judge you; I merely say this to have it off my mind, and I am onlysorry that I did not say it all THEN--"

Hippolyte flushed hotly. He had thought at first that the princewas "humbugging" him; but on looking at his face he saw that he wasabsolutely serious, and had no thought of any deception. Hippolytebeamed with gratification. 

"And yet I must die, " he said, and almost added: "a man like me @

"And imagine how that Gania annoys me! He has developed the idea--orpretends to believe--that in all probability three or four others whoheard my confession will die before I do. There's an idea for you--andall this by way of CONSOLING me! Ha! ha! ha! In the first place theyhaven't died yet; and in the second, if they DID die--all of them--whatwould be the satisfaction to me in that? He judges me by himself. But hegoes further, he actually pitches into me because, as he declares, 'anydecent fellow' would die quietly, and that 'all this' is mere egotismon my part. He doesn't see what refinement of egotism it is on his ownpart--and at the same time, what ox-like coarseness! Have you ever readof the death of one Stepan Gleboff, in the eighteenth century? I read ofit yesterday by chance. "

"Who was he?"

"He was impaled on a stake in the time of Peter. "

"I know, I know! He lay there fifteen hours in the hard frost, and diedwith the most extraordinary fortitude--I know--what of him?"

"Only that God gives that sort of dying to some, and not to others. Perhaps you think, though, that I could not die like Gleboff?"

"Not at all!" said the prince, blushing. "I was only going to say thatyou--not that you could not be like Gleboff--but that you would havebeen more like--"

"I guess what you mean--I should be an Osterman, not a Gleboff--eh? Isthat what you meant?"

"What Osterman?" asked the prince in some surprise. 

"Why, Osterman--the diplomatist. Peter's Osterman, " muttered Hippolyte, confused. There was a moment's pause of mutual confusion. 

"Oh, no, no!" said the prince at last, "that was not what I was going tosay--oh no! I don't think you would ever have been like Osterman. "

Hippolyte frowned gloomily. 

"I'll tell you why I draw the conclusion, " explained the prince, evidently desirous of clearing up the matter a little. "Because, thoughI often think over the men of those times, I cannot for the life of meimagine them to be like ourselves. It really appears to me that theywere of another race altogether than ourselves of today. At that timepeople seemed to stick so to one idea; now, they are more nervous, moresensitive, more enlightened--people of two or three ideas at once--asit were. The man of today is a broader man, so to speak--and I declareI believe that is what prevents him from being so self-contained andindependent a being as his brother of those earlier days. Of course myremark was only made under this impression, and not in the least--"

"I quite understand. You are trying to comfort me for the naiveness withwhich you disagreed with me--eh? Ha! ha! ha! You are a regularchild, prince! However, I cannot help seeing that you always treat melike--like a fragile china cup. Never mind, never mind, I'm not a bitangry! At all events we have had a very funny talk. Do you know, allthings considered, I should like to be something better than Osterman!I wouldn't take the trouble to rise from the dead to be an Osterman. However, I see I must make arrangements to die soon, or I myself--. Well--leave me now! Au revoir. Look here--before you go, just give meyour opinion: how do you think I ought to die, now? I mean--the best, the most virtuous way? Tell me!"

"You should pass us by and forgive us our happiness, " said the prince ina low voice. 

"Ha! ha! ha! I thought so. I thought I should hear something likethat. Well, you are--you really are--oh dear me! Eloquence, eloquence!Good-bye!"

VI. 

As to the evening party at the Epanchins' at which Princess Bielokonskiwas to be present, Varia had reported with accuracy; though she hadperhaps expressed herself too strongly. 

The thing was decided in a hurry and with a certain amount of quiteunnecessary excitement, doubtless because "nothing could be done in thishouse like anywhere else. "

The impatience of Lizabetha Prokofievna "to get things settled"explained a good deal, as well as the anxiety of both parents for thehappiness of their beloved daughter. Besides, Princess Bielokonski wasgoing away soon, and they hoped that she would take an interest inthe prince. They were anxious that he should enter society under theauspices of this lady, whose patronage was the best of recommendationsfor any young man. 

Even if there seems something strange about the match, the general andhis wife said to each other, the "world" will accept Aglaya's fiancewithout any question if he is under the patronage of the princess. Inany case, the prince would have to be "shown" sooner or later; that is, introduced into society, of which he had, so far, not the least idea. Moreover, it was only a question of a small gathering of a few intimatefriends. Besides Princess Bielokonski, only one other lady was expected, the wife of a high dignitary. Evgenie Pavlovitch, who was to escort theprincess, was the only young man. 

Muishkin was told of the princess's visit three days beforehand, butnothing was said to him about the party until the night before it was totake place. 

He could not help observing the excited and agitated condition of allmembers of the family, and from certain hints dropped in conversation hegathered that they were all anxious as to the impression he shouldmake upon the princess. But the Epanchins, one and all, believed thatMuishkin, in his simplicity of mind, was quite incapable of realizingthat they could be feeling any anxiety on his account, and for thisreason they all looked at him with dread and uneasiness. 

In point of fact, he did attach marvellously little importance to theapproaching event. He was occupied with altogether different thoughts. Aglaya was growing hourly more capricious and gloomy, and thisdistressed him. When they told him that Evgenie Pavlovitch was expected, he evinced great delight, and said that he had long wished to seehim--and somehow these words did not please anyone. 

Aglaya left the room in a fit of irritation, and it was not until latein the evening, past eleven, when the prince was taking his departure, that she said a word or two to him, privately, as she accompanied him asfar as the front door. 

"I should like you, " she said, "not to come here tomorrow until evening, when the guests are all assembled. You know there are to be guests, don't you?"

She spoke impatiently and with severity; this was the first allusion shehad made to the party of tomorrow. 

She hated the idea of it, everyone saw that; and she would probablyhave liked to quarrel about it with her parents, but pride and modestyprevented her from broaching the subject. 

The prince jumped to the conclusion that Aglaya, too, was nervous abouthim, and the impression he would make, and that she did not like toadmit her anxiety; and this thought alarmed him. 

"Yes, I am invited, " he replied. 

She was evidently in difficulties as to how best to go on. "May I speakof something serious to you, for once in my life?" she asked, angrily. She was irritated at she knew not what, and could not restrain herwrath. 

"Of course you may; I am very glad to listen, " replied Muishkin. 

Aglaya was silent a moment and then began again with evident dislike ofher subject:

"I do not wish to quarrel with them about this; in some things theywon't be reasonable. I always did feel a loathing for the laws whichseem to guide mamma's conduct at times. I don't speak of father, forhe cannot be expected to be anything but what he is. Mother is anoble-minded woman, I know; you try to suggest anything mean to her, and you'll see! But she is such a slave to these miserable creatures! Idon't mean old Bielokonski alone. She is a contemptible old thing, butshe is able to twist people round her little finger, and I admire thatin her, at all events! How mean it all is, and how foolish! We werealways middle-class, thoroughly middle-class, people. Why should weattempt to climb into the giddy heights of the fashionable world? Mysisters are all for it. It's Prince S. They have to thank for poisoningtheir minds. Why are you so glad that Evgenie Pavlovitch is coming?"

"Listen to me, Aglaya, " said the prince, "I do believe you are nervouslest I shall make a fool of myself tomorrow at your party?"

"Nervous about you?" Aglaya blushed. "Why should I be nervous aboutyou? What would it matter to me if you were to make ever such a fool ofyourself? How can you say such a thing? What do you mean by 'making afool of yourself'? What a vulgar expression! I suppose you intend totalk in that sort of way tomorrow evening? Look up a few more suchexpressions in your dictionary; do, you'll make a grand effect! I'msorry that you seem to be able to come into a room as gracefully as youdo; where did you learn the art? Do you think you can drink a cup of teadecently, when you know everybody is looking at you, on purpose to seehow you do it?"

"Yes, I think I can. "

"Can you? I'm sorry for it then, for I should have had a good laugh atyou otherwise. Do break SOMETHING at least, in the drawing-room! Upsetthe Chinese vase, won't you? It's a valuable one; DO break it. Mammavalues it, and she'll go out of her mind--it was a present. She'll crybefore everyone, you'll see! Wave your hand about, you know, as youalways do, and just smash it. Sit down near it on purpose. "

"On the contrary, I shall sit as far from it as I can. Thanks for thehint. "

"Ha, ha! Then you are afraid you WILL wave your arms about! I wouldn'tmind betting that you'll talk about some lofty subject, somethingserious and learned. How delightful, how tactful that will be!"

"I should think it would be very foolish indeed, unless it happened tocome in appropriately. "

"Look here, once for all, " cried Aglaya, boiling over, "if I hear youtalking about capital punishment, or the economical condition ofRussia, or about Beauty redeeming the world, or anything of that sort, I'll--well, of course I shall laugh and seem very pleased, but I warnyou beforehand, don't look me in the face again! I'm serious now, mind, this time I AM REALLY serious. " She certainly did say this veryseriously, so much so, that she looked quite different from what sheusually was, and the prince could not help noticing the fact. She didnot seem to be joking in the slightest degree. 

"Well, you've put me into such a fright that I shall certainly makea fool of myself, and very likely break something too. I wasn't a bitalarmed before, but now I'm as nervous as can be. "

"Then don't speak at all. Sit still and don't talk. "

"Oh, I can't do that, you know! I shall say something foolish out ofpure 'funk, ' and break something for the same excellent reason; I knowI shall. Perhaps I shall slip and fall on the slippery floor; I've donethat before now, you know. I shall dream of it all night now. Why didyou say anything about it?"

Aglaya looked blackly at him. 

"Do you know what, I had better not come at all tomorrow! I'll pleadsick-list and stay away, " said the prince, with decision. 

Aglaya stamped her foot, and grew quite pale with anger. 

"Oh, my goodness! Just listen to that! 'Better not come, ' when the partyis on purpose for him! Good Lord! What a delightful thing it is to haveto do with such a--such a stupid as you are!"

"Well, I'll come, I'll come, " interrupted the prince, hastily, "and I'llgive you my word of honour that I will sit the whole evening and not saya word. "

"I believe that's the best thing you can do. You said you'd 'pleadsick-list' just now; where in the world do you get hold of suchexpressions? Why do you talk to me like this? Are you trying to irritateme, or what?"

"Forgive me, it's a schoolboy expression. I won't do it again. I knowquite well, I see it, that you are anxious on my account (now, don't beangry), and it makes me very happy to see it. You wouldn't believehow frightened I am of misbehaving somehow, and how glad I am of yourinstructions. But all this panic is simply nonsense, you know, Aglaya! Igive you my word it is; I am so pleased that you are such a child, sucha dear good child. How CHARMING you can be if you like, Aglaya. "

Aglaya wanted to be angry, of course, but suddenly some quite unexpectedfeeling seized upon her heart, all in a moment. 

"And you won't reproach me for all these rude words of mine--someday--afterwards?" she asked, of a sudden. 

"What an idea! Of course not. And what are you blushing for again? Andthere comes that frown once more! You've taken to looking too gloomysometimes, Aglaya, much more than you used to. I know why it is. "

"Be quiet, do be quiet!"

"No, no, I had much better speak out. I have long wished to say it, andHAVE said it, but that's not enough, for you didn't believe me. Betweenus two there stands a being who--"

"Be quiet, be quiet, be quiet, be quiet!" Aglaya struck in, suddenly, seizing his hand in hers, and gazing at him almost in terror. 

At this moment she was called by someone. She broke loose from him withan air of relief and ran away. 

The prince was in a fever all night. It was strange, but he had sufferedfrom fever for several nights in succession. On this particular night, while in semi-delirium, he had an idea: what if on the morrow he wereto have a fit before everybody? The thought seemed to freeze his bloodwithin him. All night he fancied himself in some extraordinary societyof strange persons. The worst of it was that he was talking nonsense;he knew that he ought not to speak at all, and yet he talked the wholetime; he seemed to be trying to persuade them all to something. Evgenieand Hippolyte were among the guests, and appeared to be great friends. 

He awoke towards nine o'clock with a headache, full of confused ideasand strange impressions. For some reason or other he felt most anxiousto see Rogojin, to see and talk to him, but what he wished to say hecould not tell. Next, he determined to go and see Hippolyte. His mindwas in a confused state, so much so that the incidents of the morningseemed to be imperfectly realized, though acutely felt. 

One of these incidents was a visit from Lebedeff. Lebedeff came ratherearly--before ten--but he was tipsy already. Though the prince was notin an observant condition, yet he could not avoid seeing that for atleast three days--ever since General Ivolgin had left the house Lebedeffhad been behaving very badly. He looked untidy and dirty at all timesof the day, and it was said that he had begun to rage about in his ownhouse, and that his temper was very bad. As soon as he arrived thismorning, he began to hold forth, beating his breast and apparentlyblaming himself for something. 

"I've--I've had a reward for my meanness--I've had a slap in the face, "he concluded, tragically. 

"A slap in the face? From whom? And so early in the morning?"

"Early?" said Lebedeff, sarcastically. "Time counts for nothing, even inphysical chastisement; but my slap in the face was not physical, it wasmoral. "

He suddenly took a seat, very unceremoniously, and began his story. Itwas very disconnected; the prince frowned, and wished he could get away;but suddenly a few words struck him. He sat stiff with wonder--Lebedeffsaid some extraordinary things. 

In the first place he began about some letter; the name of AglayaIvanovna came in. Then suddenly he broke off and began to accuse theprince of something; he was apparently offended with him. At first hedeclared that the prince had trusted him with his confidences as to "acertain person" (Nastasia Philipovna), but that of late his friendshiphad been thrust back into his bosom, and his innocent question as to"approaching family changes" had been curtly put aside, which Lebedeffdeclared, with tipsy tears, he could not bear; especially as he knew somuch already both from Rogojin and Nastasia Philipovna and her friend, and from Varvara Ardalionovna, and even from Aglaya Ivanovna, throughhis daughter Vera. "And who told Lizabetha Prokofievna something insecret, by letter? Who told her all about the movements of a certainperson called Nastasia Philipovna? Who was the anonymous person, eh?Tell me!"

"Surely not you?" cried the prince. 

"Just so, " said Lebedeff, with dignity; "and only this very morning Ihave sent up a letter to the noble lady, stating that I have a matter ofgreat importance to communicate. She received the letter; I know she gotit; and she received ME, too. "

"Have you just seen Lizabetha Prokofievna?" asked the prince, scarcelybelieving his ears. 

"Yes, I saw her, and got the said slap in the face as mentioned. Shechucked the letter back to me unopened, and kicked me out of the house, morally, not physically, although not far off it. "

"What letter do you mean she returned unopened?"

"What! didn't I tell you? Ha, ha, ha! I thought I had. Why, I received aletter, you know, to be handed over--"

"From whom? To whom?"

But it was difficult, if not impossible, to extract anything fromLebedeff. All the prince could gather was, that the letter had beenreceived very early, and had a request written on the outside that itmight be sent on to the address given. 

"Just as before, sir, just as before! To a certain person, and froma certain hand. The individual's name who wrote the letter is to berepresented by the letter A. --"

"What? Impossible! To Nastasia Philipovna? Nonsense!" cried the prince. 

"It was, I assure you, and if not to her then to Rogojin, which isthe same thing. Mr. Hippolyte has had letters, too, and all from theindividual whose name begins with an A. , " smirked Lebedeff, with ahideous grin. 

As he kept jumping from subject to subject, and forgetting what he hadbegun to talk about, the prince said nothing, but waited, to give himtime. 

It was all very vague. Who had taken the letters, if letters there were?Probably Vera--and how could Lebedeff have got them? In all probability, he had managed to steal the present letter from Vera, and had himselfgone over to Lizabetha Prokofievna with some idea in his head. So theprince concluded at last. 

"You are mad!" he cried, indignantly. 

"Not quite, esteemed prince, " replied Lebedeff, with some acerbity. "Iconfess I thought of doing you the service of handing the letter over toyourself, but I decided that it would pay me better to deliver it up tothe noble lady aforesaid, as I had informed her of everything hithertoby anonymous letters; so when I sent her up a note from myself, withthe letter, you know, in order to fix a meeting for eight o'clock thismorning, I signed it 'your secret correspondent. ' They let me in atonce--very quickly--by the back door, and the noble lady received me. "

"Well? Go on. "

"Oh, well, when I saw her she almost punched my head, as I say; in factso nearly that one might almost say she did punch my head. She threwthe letter in my face; she seemed to reflect first, as if she wouldhave liked to keep it, but thought better of it and threw it in my faceinstead. 'If anybody can have been such a fool as to trust a man likeyou to deliver the letter, ' says she, ' take it and deliver it! 'Hey! shewas grandly indignant. A fierce, fiery lady that, sir!"

"Where's the letter now?"

"Oh, I've still got it, here!"

And he handed the prince the very letter from Aglaya to Gania, which thelatter showed with so much triumph to his Sister at a later hour. 

"This letter cannot be allowed to remain in your hands. "

"It's for you--for you! I've brought it you on purpose!" cried Lebedeff, excitedly. "Why, I'm yours again now, heart and hand, your slave; therewas but a momentary pause in the flow of my love and esteem for you. Meaculpa, mea culpa! as the Pope of Rome says. 

"This letter should be sent on at once, " said the prince, disturbed. "I'll hand it over myself. "

"Wouldn't it be better, esteemed prince, wouldn't it bebetter--to--don't you know--"

Lebedeff made a strange and very expressive grimace; he twisted about inhis chair, and did something, apparently symbolical, with his hands. 

"What do you mean?" said the prince. 

"Why, open it, for the time being, don't you know?" he said, mostconfidentially and mysteriously. 

The prince jumped up so furiously that Lebedeff ran towards the door;having gained which strategic position, however, he stopped and lookedback to see if he might hope for pardon. 

"Oh, Lebedeff, Lebedeff! Can a man really sink to such depths ofmeanness?" said the prince, sadly. 

Lebedeff's face brightened. 

"Oh, I'm a mean wretch--a mean wretch!" he said, approaching the princeonce more, and beating his breast, with tears in his eyes. 

"It's abominable dishonesty, you know!"

"Dishonesty--it is, it is! That's the very word!"

"What in the world induces you to act so? You are nothing but a spy. Why did you write anonymously to worry so noble and generous a lady? Whyshould not Aglaya Ivanovna write a note to whomever she pleases? Whatdid you mean to complain of today? What did you expect to get by it?What made you go at all?"

"Pure amiable curiosity, --I assure you--desire to do a service. That'sall. Now I'm entirely yours again, your slave; hang me if you like!"

"Did you go before Lizabetha Prokofievna in your present condition?"inquired the prince. 

"No--oh no, fresher--more the correct card. I only became this likeafter the humiliation I suffered there, "Well--that'll do; now leave me. "

This injunction had to be repeated several times before the man could bepersuaded to move. Even then he turned back at the door, came as far asthe middle of the room, and there went through his mysterious motionsdesigned to convey the suggestion that the prince should open theletter. He did not dare put his suggestion into words again. 

After this performance, he smiled sweetly and left the room on tiptoe. 

All this had been very painful to listen to. One fact stood out certainand clear, and that was that poor Aglaya must be in a state of greatdistress and indecision and mental torment ("from jealousy, " the princewhispered to himself). Undoubtedly in this inexperienced, but hot andproud little head, there were all sorts of plans forming, wild andimpossible plans, maybe; and the idea of this so frightened the princethat he could not make up his mind what to do. Something must be done, that was clear. 

He looked at the address on the letter once more. Oh, he was not in theleast degree alarmed about Aglaya writing such a letter; he could trusther. What he did not like about it was that he could not trust Gania. 

However, he made up his mind that he would himself take the note anddeliver it. Indeed, he went so far as to leave the house and walk up theroad, but changed his mind when he had nearly reached Ptitsin's door. However, he there luckily met Colia, and commissioned him to deliver theletter to his brother as if direct from Aglaya. Colia asked no questionsbut simply delivered it, and Gania consequently had no suspicion that ithad passed through so many hands. 

Arrived home again, the prince sent for Vera Lebedeff and told her asmuch as was necessary, in order to relieve her mind, for she had been ina dreadful state of anxiety since she had missed the letter. She heardwith horror that her father had taken it. Muishkin learned from her thatshe had on several occasions performed secret missions both for Aglayaand for Rogojin, without, however, having had the slightest idea that inso doing she might injure the prince in any way. 

The latter, with one thing and another, was now so disturbed andconfused, that when, a couple of hours or so later, a message came fromColia that the general was ill, he could hardly take the news in. 

However, when he did master the fact, it acted upon him as a tonicby completely distracting his attention. He went at once to NinaAlexandrovna's, whither the general had been carried, and stayed thereuntil the evening. He could do no good, but there are people whomto have near one is a blessing at such times. Colia was in an almosthysterical state; he cried continuously, but was running about all day, all the same; fetching doctors, of whom he collected three; going to thechemist's, and so on. 

The general was brought round to some extent, but the doctorsdeclared that he could not be said to be out of danger. Varia and NinaAlexandrovna never left the sick man's bedside; Gania was excited anddistressed, but would not go upstairs, and seemed afraid to look at thepatient. He wrung his hands when the prince spoke to him, and said that"such a misfortune at such a moment" was terrible. 

The prince thought he knew what Gania meant by "such a moment. "

Hippolyte was not in the house. Lebedeff turned up late in theafternoon; he had been asleep ever since his interview with the princein the morning. He was quite sober now, and cried with real sincerityover the sick general--mourning for him as though he were his ownbrother. He blamed himself aloud, but did not explain why. He repeatedover and over again to Nina Alexandrovna that he alone was to blame--noone else--but that he had acted out of "pure amiable curiosity, " andthat "the deceased, " as he insisted upon calling the still livinggeneral, had been the greatest of geniuses. 

He laid much stress on the genius of the sufferer, as if this idea mustbe one of immense solace in the present crisis. 

Nina Alexandrovna--seeing his sincerity of feeling--said at last, and without the faintest suspicion of reproach in her voice: "Come, come--don't cry! God will forgive you!"

Lebedeff was so impressed by these words, and the tone in whichthey were spoken, that he could not leave Nina Alexandrovna all theevening--in fact, for several days. Till the general's death, indeed, hespent almost all his time at his side. 

Twice during the day a messenger came to Nina Alexandrovna from theEpanchins to inquire after the invalid. 

When--late in the evening--the prince made his appearance in LizabethaProkofievna's drawing-room, he found it full of guests. Mrs. Epanchinquestioned him very fully about the general as soon as he appeared; andwhen old Princess Bielokonski wished to know "who this general was, andwho was Nina Alexandrovna, " she proceeded to explain in a manner whichpleased the prince very much. 

He himself, when relating the circumstances of the general's illness toLizabetha Prokofievna, "spoke beautifully, " as Aglaya's sisters declaredafterwards--"modestly, quietly, without gestures or too many words, andwith great dignity. " He had entered the room with propriety and grace, and he was perfectly dressed; he not only did not "fall down on theslippery floor, " as he had expressed it, but evidently made a veryfavourable impression upon the assembled guests. 

As for his own impression on entering the room and taking his seat, he instantly remarked that the company was not in the least suchas Aglaya's words had led him to fear, and as he had dreamed of--innightmare form--all night. 

This was the first time in his life that he had seen a little corner ofwhat was generally known by the terrible name of "society. " He had longthirsted, for reasons of his own, to penetrate the mysteries of themagic circle, and, therefore, this assemblage was of the greatestpossible interest to him. 

His first impression was one of fascination. Somehow or other he feltthat all these people must have been born on purpose to be together! Itseemed to him that the Epanchins were not having a party at all; thatthese people must have been here always, and that he himself was oneof them--returned among them after a long absence, but one of them, naturally and indisputably. 

It never struck him that all this refined simplicity and nobility andwit and personal dignity might possibly be no more than an exquisiteartistic polish. The majority of the guests--who were somewhatempty-headed, after all, in spite of their aristocratic bearing--neverguessed, in their self-satisfied composure, that much of theirsuperiority was mere veneer, which indeed they had adopted unconsciouslyand by inheritance. 

The prince would never so much as suspect such a thing in the delight ofhis first impression. 

He saw, for instance, that one important dignitary, old enough to be hisgrandfather, broke off his own conversation in order to listen to HIM--ayoung and inexperienced man; and not only listened, but seemed toattach value to his opinion, and was kind and amiable, and yet theywere strangers and had never seen each other before. Perhaps what mostappealed to the prince's impressionability was the refinement of the oldman's courtesy towards him. Perhaps the soil of his susceptible naturewas really predisposed to receive a pleasant impression. 

Meanwhile all these people-though friends of the family and of eachother to a certain extent--were very far from being such intimatefriends of the family and of each other as the prince concluded. Therewere some present who never would think of considering the Epanchinstheir equals. There were even some who hated one another cordially. Forinstance, old Princess Bielokonski had all her life despised the wifeof the "dignitary, " while the latter was very far from loving LizabethaProkofievna. The dignitary himself had been General Epanchin's protectorfrom his youth up; and the general considered him so majestic apersonage that he would have felt a hearty contempt for himself ifhe had even for one moment allowed himself to pose as the great man'sequal, or to think of him--in his fear and reverence-as anything lessthan an Olympic God! There were others present who had not met foryears, and who had no feeling whatever for each other, unless it weredislike; and yet they met tonight as though they had seen each other butyesterday in some friendly and intimate assembly of kindred spirits. 

It was not a large party, however. Besides Princess Bielokonski and theold dignitary (who was really a great man) and his wife, there was anold military general--a count or baron with a German name, a man reputedto possess great knowledge and administrative ability. He was oneof those Olympian administrators who know everything except Russia, pronounce a word of extraordinary wisdom, admired by all, about once infive years, and, after being an eternity in the service, generally diefull of honour and riches, though they have never done anything great, and have even been hostile to all greatness. This general was IvanFedorovitch's immediate superior in the service; and it pleased thelatter to look upon him also as a patron. On the other hand, the greatman did not at all consider himself Epanchin's patron. He was alwaysvery cool to him, while taking advantage of his ready services, andwould instantly have put another in his place if there had been theslightest reason for the change. 

Another guest was an elderly, important-looking gentleman, a distantrelative of Lizabetha Prokofievna's. This gentleman was rich, held agood position, was a great talker, and had the reputation of being "oneof the dissatisfied, " though not belonging to the dangerous sectionsof that class. He had the manners, to some extent, of the Englisharistocracy, and some of their tastes (especially in the matter ofunder-done roast beef, harness, men-servants, etc. ). He was a greatfriend of the dignitary's, and Lizabetha Prokofievna, for some reason orother, had got hold of the idea that this worthy intended at no distantdate to offer the advantages of his hand and heart to Alexandra. 

Besides the elevated and more solid individuals enumerated, there werepresent a few younger though not less elegant guests. Besides Prince S. And Evgenie Pavlovitch, we must name the eminent and fascinating PrinceN. --once the vanquisher of female hearts all over Europe. This gentlemanwas no longer in the first bloom of youth--he was forty-five, but stillvery handsome. He was well off, and lived, as a rule, abroad, and wasnoted as a good teller of stories. Then came a few guests belonging toa lower stratum of society--people who, like the Epanchins themselves, moved only occasionally in this exalted sphere. The Epanchins liked todraft among their more elevated guests a few picked representatives ofthis lower stratum, and Lizabetha Prokofievna received much praise forthis practice, which proved, her friends said, that she was a woman oftact. The Epanchins prided themselves upon the good opinion people heldof them. 

One of the representatives of the middle-class present today was acolonel of engineers, a very serious man and a great friend of PrinceS. , who had introduced him to the Epanchins. He was extremely silent insociety, and displayed on the forefinger of his right hand a large ring, probably bestowed upon him for services of some sort. There was alsoa poet, German by name, but a Russian poet; very presentable, and evenhandsome-the sort of man one could bring into society with impunity. This gentleman belonged to a German family of decidedly bourgeoisorigin, but he had a knack of acquiring the patronage of "big-wigs, " andof retaining their favour. He had translated some great German poem intoRussian verse, and claimed to have been a friend of a famous Russianpoet, since dead. (It is strange how great a multitude of literarypeople there are who have had the advantages of friendship with somegreat man of their own profession who is, unfortunately, dead. ) Thedignitary's wife had introduced this worthy to the Epanchins. Thislady posed as the patroness of literary people, and she certainlyhad succeeded in obtaining pensions for a few of them, thanks to herinfluence with those in authority on such matters. She was a lady ofweight in her own way. Her age was about forty-five, so that she was avery young wife for such an elderly husband as the dignitary. She hadbeen a beauty in her day and still loved, as many ladies of forty-fivedo love, to dress a little too smartly. Her intellect was nothing toboast of, and her literary knowledge very doubtful. Literary patronagewas, however, with her as much a mania as was the love of gorgeousclothes. Many books and translations were dedicated to her by herproteges, and a few of these talented individuals had published some oftheir own letters to her, upon very weighty subjects. 

This, then, was the society that the prince accepted at once as truecoin, as pure gold without alloy. 

It so happened, however, that on this particular evening all these goodpeople were in excellent humour and highly pleased with themselves. Every one of them felt that they were doing the Epanchins the greatestpossible honour by their presence. But alas! the prince never suspectedany such subtleties! For instance, he had no suspicion of the fact thatthe Epanchins, having in their mind so important a step as the marriageof their daughter, would never think of presuming to take it withouthaving previously "shown off" the proposed husband to the dignitary--therecognized patron of the family. The latter, too, though he wouldprobably have received news of a great disaster to the Epanchin familywith perfect composure, would nevertheless have considered it a personaloffence if they had dared to marry their daughter without his advice, orwe might almost say, his leave. 

The amiable and undoubtedly witty Prince N. Could not but feel thathe was as a sun, risen for one night only to shine upon the Epanchindrawing-room. He accounted them immeasurably his inferiors, and it wasthis feeling which caused his special amiability and delightful ease andgrace towards them. He knew very well that he must tell some story thisevening for the edification of the company, and led up to it with theinspiration of anticipatory triumph. 

The prince, when he heard the story afterwards, felt that he had neveryet come across so wonderful a humorist, or such remarkable brilliancyas was shown by this man; and yet if he had only known it, this storywas the oldest, stalest, and most worn-out yarn, and every drawing-roomin town was sick to death of it. It was only in the innocent Epanchinhousehold that it passed for a new and brilliant tale--as a sudden andstriking reminiscence of a splendid and talented man. 

Even the German poet, though as amiable as possible, felt that he wasdoing the house the greatest of honours by his presence in it. 

But the prince only looked at the bright side; he did not turn the coatand see the shabby lining. 

Aglaya had not foreseen that particular calamity. She herself lookedwonderfully beautiful this evening. All three sisters were dressed verytastefully, and their hair was done with special care. 

Aglaya sat next to Evgenie Pavlovitch, and laughed and talked to himwith an unusual display of friendliness. Evgenie himself behaved rathermore sedately than usual, probably out of respect to the dignitary. Evgenie had been known in society for a long while. He had appeared atthe Epanchins' today with crape on his hat, and Princess Bielokonski hadcommended this action on his part. Not every society man would have worncrape for "such an uncle. " Lizabetha Prokofievna had liked it also, butwas too preoccupied to take much notice. The prince remarked that Aglayalooked attentively at him two or three times, and seemed to be satisfiedwith his behaviour. 

Little by little he became very happy indeed. All his late anxieties andapprehensions (after his conversation with Lebedeff) now appeared likeso many bad dreams--impossible, and even laughable. 

He did not speak much, only answering such questions as were put to him, and gradually settled down into unbroken silence, listening to what wenton, and steeped in perfect satisfaction and contentment. 

Little by little a sort of inspiration, however, began to stir withinhim, ready to spring into life at the right moment. When he did beginto speak, it was accidentally, in response to a question, and apparentlywithout any special object. 

VII. 

WHILE he feasted his eyes upon Aglaya, as she talked merrily withEvgenie and Prince N. , suddenly the old anglomaniac, who was talking tothe dignitary in another corner of the room, apparently telling him astory about something or other--suddenly this gentleman pronouncedthe name of "Nicolai Andreevitch Pavlicheff" aloud. The prince quicklyturned towards him, and listened. 

The conversation had been on the subject of land, and the presentdisorders, and there must have been something amusing said, for the oldman had begun to laugh at his companion's heated expressions. 

The latter was describing in eloquent words how, in consequence ofrecent legislation, he was obliged to sell a beautiful estate in the N. Province, not because he wanted ready money--in fact, he was obligedto sell it at half its value. "To avoid another lawsuit about thePavlicheff estate, I ran away, " he said. "With a few more inheritancesof that kind I should soon be ruined!"

At this point General Epanchin, noticing how interested Muishkin hadbecome in the conversation, said to him, in a low tone:

"That gentleman--Ivan Petrovitch--is a relation of your late friend, Mr. Pavlicheff. You wanted to find some of his relations, did you not?"

The general, who had been talking to his chief up to this moment, hadobserved the prince's solitude and silence, and was anxious to draw himinto the conversation, and so introduce him again to the notice of someof the important personages. 

"Lef Nicolaievitch was a ward of Nicolai Andreevitch Pavlicheff, afterthe death of his own parents, " he remarked, meeting Ivan Petrovitch'seye. 

"Very happy to meet him, I'm sure, " remarked the latter. "I rememberLef Nicolaievitch well. When General Epanchin introduced us just now, I recognized you at once, prince. You are very little changed, thoughI saw you last as a child of some ten or eleven years old. There wassomething in your features, I suppose, that--"

"You saw me as a child!" exclaimed the prince, with surprise. 

"Oh! yes, long ago, " continued Ivan Petrovitch, "while you were livingwith my cousin at Zlatoverhoff. You don't remember me? No, I daresay you don't; you had some malady at the time, I remember. It was soserious that I was surprised--"

"No; I remember nothing!" said the prince. A few more words ofexplanation followed, words which were spoken without the smallestexcitement by his companion, but which evoked the greatest agitation inthe prince; and it was discovered that two old ladies to whose care theprince had been left by Pavlicheff, and who lived at Zlatoverhoff, werealso relations of Ivan Petrovitch. 

The latter had no idea and could give no information as to whyPavlicheff had taken so great an interest in the little prince, hisward. 

"In point of fact I don't think I thought much about it, " said the oldfellow. He seemed to have a wonderfully good memory, however, for hetold the prince all about the two old ladies, Pavlicheff's cousins, whohad taken care of him, and whom, he declared, he had taken to taskfor being too severe with the prince as a small sickly boy--the eldersister, at least; the younger had been kind, he recollected. Theyboth now lived in another province, on a small estate left to them byPavlicheff. The prince listened to all this with eyes sparkling withemotion and delight. 

He declared with unusual warmth that he would never forgive himself forhaving travelled about in the central provinces during these last sixmonths without having hunted up his two old friends. 

He declared, further, that he had intended to go every day, but hadalways been prevented by circumstances; but that now he would promisehimself the pleasure--however far it was, he would find them out. And soIvan Petrovitch REALLY knew Natalia Nikitishna!--what a saintly naturewas hers!--and Martha Nikitishna! Ivan Petrovitch must excuse him, but really he was not quite fair on dear old Martha. She was severe, perhaps; but then what else could she be with such a little idiot as hewas then? (Ha, ha. ) He really was an idiot then, Ivan Petrovitch mustknow, though he might not believe it. (Ha, ha. ) So he had really seenhim there! Good heavens! And was he really and truly and actually acousin of Pavlicheff's?

"I assure you of it, " laughed Ivan Petrovitch, gazing amusedly at theprince. 

"Oh! I didn't say it because I DOUBT the fact, you know. (Ha, ha. )How could I doubt such a thing? (Ha, ha, ha. ) I made the remarkbecause--because Nicolai Andreevitch Pavlicheff was such a splendid man, don't you see! Such a high-souled man, he really was, I assure you. "

The prince did not exactly pant for breath, but he "seemed almostto CHOKE out of pure simplicity and goodness of heart, " as Adelaidaexpressed it, on talking the party over with her fiance, the Prince S. , next morning. 

"But, my goodness me, " laughed Ivan Petrovitch, "why can't I be cousinto even a splendid man?"

"Oh, dear!" cried the prince, confused, trying to hurry his wordsout, and growing more and more eager every moment: "I've gone and saidanother stupid thing. I don't know what to say. I--I didn't mean that, you know--I--I--he really was such a splendid man, wasn't he?"

The prince trembled all over. Why was he so agitated? Why had he flowninto such transports of delight without any apparent reason? He had faroutshot the measure of joy and emotion consistent with the occasion. Whythis was it would be difficult to say. 

He seemed to feel warmly and deeply grateful to someone for something orother--perhaps to Ivan Petrovitch; but likely enough to all the guests, individually, and collectively. He was much too happy. 

Ivan Petrovitch began to stare at him with some surprise; the dignitary, too, looked at him with considerable attention; Princess Bielokonskiglared at him angrily, and compressed her lips. Prince N. , Evgenie, Prince S. , and the girls, all broke off their own conversations andlistened. Aglaya seemed a little startled; as for Lizabetha Prokofievna, her heart sank within her. 

This was odd of Lizabetha Prokofievna and her daughters. They hadthemselves decided that it would be better if the prince did not talkall the evening. Yet seeing him sitting silent and alone, but perfectlyhappy, they had been on the point of exerting themselves to draw himinto one of the groups of talkers around the room. Now that he was inthe midst of a talk they became more than ever anxious and perturbed. 

"That he was a splendid man is perfectly true; you are quite right, "repeated Ivan Petrovitch, but seriously this time. "He was a fine and aworthy fellow--worthy, one may say, of the highest respect, " he added, more and more seriously at each pause; "and it is agreeable to see, onyour part, such--"

"Wasn't it this same Pavlicheff about whom there was a strange story inconnection with some abbot? I don't remember who the abbot was, but Iremember at one time everybody was talking about it, " remarked the olddignitary. 

"Yes--Abbot Gurot, a Jesuit, " said Ivan Petrovitch. "Yes, that's thesort of thing our best men are apt to do. A man of rank, too, andrich--a man who, if he had continued to serve, might have done anything;and then to throw up the service and everything else in order to go overto Roman Catholicism and turn Jesuit--openly, too--almost triumphantly. By Jove! it was positively a mercy that he died when he did--it wasindeed--everyone said so at the time. "

The prince was beside himself. 

"Pavlicheff?--Pavlicheff turned Roman Catholic? Impossible!" he cried, in horror. 

"H'm! impossible is rather a strong word, " said Ivan Petrovitch. "Youmust allow, my dear prince. . . However, of course you value the memory ofthe deceased so very highly; and he certainly was the kindest of men;to which fact, by the way, I ascribe, more than to anything else, thesuccess of the abbot in influencing his religious convictions. But youmay ask me, if you please, how much trouble and worry I, personally, had over that business, and especially with this same Gurot! Would youbelieve it, " he continued, addressing the dignitary, "they actuallytried to put in a claim under the deceased's will, and I had to resortto the very strongest measures in order to bring them to their senses?I assure you they knew their cue, did these gentlemen--wonderful! Thankgoodness all this was in Moscow, and I got the Court, you know, to helpme, and we soon brought them to their senses. 

"You wouldn't believe how you have pained and astonished me, " cried theprince. 

"Very sorry; but in point of fact, you know, it was all nonsense andwould have ended in smoke, as usual--I'm sure of that. Last year, "--heturned to the old man again, --"Countess K. Joined some Roman Conventabroad. Our people never seem to be able to offer any resistance so soonas they get into the hands of these--intriguers--especially abroad. "

"That is all thanks to our lassitude, I think, " replied the old man, with authority. "And then their way of preaching; they have a skilfulmanner of doing it! And they know how to startle one, too. I got quitea fright myself in '32, in Vienna, I assure you; but I didn't cave in tothem, I ran away instead, ha, ha!"

"Come, come, I've always heard that you ran away with the beautifulCountess Levitsky that time--throwing up everything in order to doit--and not from the Jesuits at all, " said Princess Bielokonski, suddenly. 

"Well, yes--but we call it from the Jesuits, you know; it comes tothe same thing, " laughed the old fellow, delighted with the pleasantrecollection. 

"You seem to be very religious, " he continued, kindly, addressing theprince, "which is a thing one meets so seldom nowadays among youngpeople. "

The prince was listening open-mouthed, and still in a condition ofexcited agitation. The old man was evidently interested in him, andanxious to study him more closely. 

"Pavlicheff was a man of bright intellect and a good Christian, asincere Christian, " said the prince, suddenly. "How could he possiblyembrace a faith which is unchristian? Roman Catholicism is, so to speak, simply the same thing as unchristianity, " he added with flashing eyes, which seemed to take in everybody in the room. 

"Come, that's a little TOO strong, isn't it?" murmured the old man, glancing at General Epanchin in surprise. 

"How do you make out that the Roman Catholic religion is UNCHRISTIAN?What is it, then?" asked Ivan Petrovitch, turning to the prince. 

"It is not a Christian religion, in the first place, " said the latter, in extreme agitation, quite out of proportion to the necessity of themoment. "And in the second place, Roman Catholicism is, in my opinion, worse than Atheism itself. Yes--that is my opinion. Atheism onlypreaches a negation, but Romanism goes further; it preaches adisfigured, distorted Christ--it preaches Anti-Christ--I assure you, Iswear it! This is my own personal conviction, and it has long distressedme. The Roman Catholic believes that the Church on earth cannot standwithout universal temporal Power. He cries 'non possumus!' In myopinion the Roman Catholic religion is not a faith at all, but simply acontinuation of the Roman Empire, and everything is subordinated tothis idea--beginning with faith. The Pope has seized territories and anearthly throne, and has held them with the sword. And so the thing hasgone on, only that to the sword they have added lying, intrigue, deceit, fanaticism, superstition, swindling;--they have played fast and loosewith the most sacred and sincere feelings of men;--they have exchangedeverything--everything for money, for base earthly POWER! And is thisnot the teaching of Anti-Christ? How could the upshot of all thisbe other than Atheism? Atheism is the child of Roman Catholicism--itproceeded from these Romans themselves, though perhaps they would notbelieve it. It grew and fattened on hatred of its parents; it is theprogeny of their lies and spiritual feebleness. Atheism! In our countryit is only among the upper classes that you find unbelievers; men whohave lost the root or spirit of their faith; but abroad whole masses ofthe people are beginning to profess unbelief--at first because ofthe darkness and lies by which they were surrounded; but now out offanaticism, out of loathing for the Church and Christianity!"

The prince paused to get breath. He had spoken with extraordinaryrapidity, and was very pale. 

All present interchanged glances, but at last the old dignitary burstout laughing frankly. Prince N. Took out his eye-glass to have a goodlook at the speaker. The German poet came out of his corner and creptnearer to the table, with a spiteful smile. 

"You exaggerate the matter very much, " said Ivan Petrovitch, with rathera bored air. "There are, in the foreign Churches, many representativesof their faith who are worthy of respect and esteem. "

"Oh, but I did not speak of individual representatives. I was merelytalking about Roman Catholicism, and its essence--of Rome itself. AChurch can never entirely disappear; I never hinted at that!"

"Agreed that all this may be true; but we need not discuss a subjectwhich belongs to the domain of theology. "

"Oh, no; oh, no! Not to theology alone, I assure you! Why, Socialism isthe progeny of Romanism and of the Romanistic spirit. It and its brotherAtheism proceed from Despair in opposition to Catholicism. It seeks toreplace in itself the moral power of religion, in order to appease thespiritual thirst of parched humanity and save it; not by Christ, butby force. 'Don't dare to believe in God, don't dare to possess anyindividuality, any property! Fraternite ou la Mort; two million heads. 'By their works ye shall know them'--we are told. And we must notsuppose that all this is harmless and without danger to ourselves. Oh, no; we must resist, and quickly, quickly! We must let out Christ shineforth upon the Western nations, our Christ whom we have preservedintact, and whom they have never known. Not as slaves, allowingourselves to be caught by the hooks of the Jesuits, but carrying ourRussian civilization to THEM, we must stand before them, not letting itbe said among us that their preaching is 'skilful, ' as someone expressedit just now. "

"But excuse me, excuse me;" cried Ivan Petrovitch considerablydisturbed, and looking around uneasily. "Your ideas are, of course, mostpraiseworthy, and in the highest degree patriotic; but you exaggeratethe matter terribly. It would be better if we dropped the subject. "

"No, sir, I do not exaggerate, I understate the matter, if anything, undoubtedly understate it; simply because I cannot express myself as Ishould like, but--"

"Allow me!"

The prince was silent. He sat straight up in his chair and gazedfervently at Ivan Petrovitch. 

"It seems to me that you have been too painfully impressed by the newsof what happened to your good benefactor, " said the old dignitary, kindly, and with the utmost calmness of demeanour. "You are excitable, perhaps as the result of your solitary life. If you would make up yourmind to live more among your fellows in society, I trust, I am sure, that the world would be glad to welcome you, as a remarkable young man;and you would soon find yourself able to look at things more calmly. Youwould see that all these things are much simpler than you think; and, besides, these rare cases come about, in my opinion, from ennui and fromsatiety. "

"Exactly, exactly! That is a true thought!" cried the prince. "Fromennui, from our ennui but not from satiety! Oh, no, you are wrong there!Say from THIRST if you like; the thirst of fever! And please do notsuppose that this is so small a matter that we may have a laugh at itand dismiss it; we must be able to foresee our disasters and arm againstthem. We Russians no sooner arrive at the brink of the water, andrealize that we are really at the brink, than we are so delighted withthe outlook that in we plunge and swim to the farthest point we cansee. Why is this? You say you are surprised at Pavlicheff's action; youascribe it to madness, to kindness of heart, and what not, but it is notso. 

"Our Russian intensity not only astonishes ourselves; all Europe wondersat our conduct in such cases! For, if one of us goes over to RomanCatholicism, he is sure to become a Jesuit at once, and a rabid one intothe bargain. If one of us becomes an Atheist, he must needs begin toinsist on the prohibition of faith in God by force, that is, by thesword. Why is this? Why does he then exceed all bounds at once? Becausehe has found land at last, the fatherland that he sought in vain before;and, because his soul is rejoiced to find it, he throws himself upon itand kisses it! Oh, it is not from vanity alone, it is not from feelingsof vanity that Russians become Atheists and Jesuits! But from spiritualthirst, from anguish of longing for higher things, for dry firm land, for foothold on a fatherland which they never believed in because theynever knew it. It is easier for a Russian to become an Atheist, than forany other nationality in the world. And not only does a Russian 'becomean Atheist, ' but he actually BELIEVES IN Atheism, just as though hehad found a new faith, not perceiving that he has pinned his faith toa negation. Such is our anguish of thirst! 'Whoso has no country has noGod. ' That is not my own expression; it is the expression of a merchant, one of the Old Believers, whom I once met while travelling. He did notsay exactly these words. I think his expression was:

"'Whoso forsakes his country forsakes his God. '

"But let these thirsty Russian souls find, like Columbus' discoverers, anew world; let them find the Russian world, let them search and discoverall the gold and treasure that lies hid in the bosom of their own land!Show them the restitution of lost humanity, in the future, by Russianthought alone, and by means of the God and of the Christ of our Russianfaith, and you will see how mighty and just and wise and good a giantwill rise up before the eyes of the astonished and frightened world;astonished because they expect nothing but the sword from us, becausethey think they will get nothing out of us but barbarism. This hasbeen the case up to now, and the longer matters go on as they are nowproceeding, the more clear will be the truth of what I say; and I--"

But at this moment something happened which put a most unexpected end tothe orator's speech. All this heated tirade, this outflow of passionatewords and ecstatic ideas which seemed to hustle and tumble over eachother as they fell from his lips, bore evidence of some unusuallydisturbed mental condition in the young fellow who had "boiled over" insuch a remarkable manner, without any apparent reason. 

Of those who were present, such as knew the prince listened to hisoutburst in a state of alarm, some with a feeling of mortification. Itwas so unlike his usual timid self-constraint; so inconsistent with hisusual taste and tact, and with his instinctive feeling for the higherproprieties. They could not understand the origin of the outburst; itcould not be simply the news of Pavlicheff's perversion. By the ladiesthe prince was regarded as little better than a lunatic, and PrincessBielokonski admitted afterwards that "in another minute she would havebolted. "

The two old gentlemen looked quite alarmed. The old general (Epanchin'schief) sat and glared at the prince in severe displeasure. The colonelsat immovable. Even the German poet grew a little pale, though he worehis usual artificial smile as he looked around to see what the otherswould do. 

In point of fact it is quite possible that the matter would have endedin a very commonplace and natural way in a few minutes. The undoubtedlyastonished, but now more collected, General Epanchin had several timesendeavoured to interrupt the prince, and not having succeeded he was nowpreparing to take firmer and more vigorous measures to attain his end. In another minute or two he would probably have made up his mind to leadthe prince quietly out of the room, on the plea of his being ill (and itwas more than likely that the general was right in his belief that theprince WAS actually ill), but it so happened that destiny had somethingdifferent in store. 

At the beginning of the evening, when the prince first came into theroom, he had sat down as far as possible from the Chinese vase whichAglaya had spoken of the day before. 

Will it be believed that, after Aglaya's alarming words, an ineradicableconviction had taken possession of his mind that, however he might tryto avoid this vase next day, he must certainly break it? But so it was. 

During the evening other impressions began to awaken in his mind, aswe have seen, and he forgot his presentiment. But when Pavlicheff wasmentioned and the general introduced him to Ivan Petrovitch, he hadchanged his place, and went over nearer to the table; when, it sohappened, he took the chair nearest to the beautiful vase, which stoodon a pedestal behind him, just about on a level with his elbow. 

As he spoke his last words he had risen suddenly from his seat with awave of his arm, and there was a general cry of horror. 

The huge vase swayed backwards and forwards; it seemed to be uncertainwhether or no to topple over on to the head of one of the old men, but eventually determined to go the other way, and came crashing overtowards the German poet, who darted out of the way in terror. 

The crash, the cry, the sight of the fragments of valuable chinacovering the carpet, the alarm of the company--what all this meantto the poor prince it would be difficult to convey to the mind of thereader, or for him to imagine. 

But one very curious fact was that all the shame and vexation andmortification which he felt over the accident were less powerful thanthe deep impression of the almost supernatural truth of his premonition. He stood still in alarm--in almost superstitious alarm, for a moment;then all mists seemed to clear away from his eyes; he was conscious ofnothing but light and joy and ecstasy; his breath came and went; butthe moment passed. Thank God it was not that! He drew a long breath andlooked around. 

For some minutes he did not seem to comprehend the excitement aroundhim; that is, he comprehended it and saw everything, but he stood aside, as it were, like someone invisible in a fairy tale, as though he hadnothing to do with what was going on, though it pleased him to take aninterest in it. 

He saw them gather up the broken bits of china; he heard the loudtalking of the guests and observed how pale Aglaya looked, and how verystrangely she was gazing at him. There was no hatred in her expression, and no anger whatever. It was full of alarm for him, and sympathy andaffection, while she looked around at the others with flashing, angryeyes. His heart filled with a sweet pain as he gazed at her. 

At length he observed, to his amazement, that all had taken their seatsagain, and were laughing and talking as though nothing had happened. Another minute and the laughter grew louder--they were laughing at him, at his dumb stupor--laughing kindly and merrily. Several of themspoke to him, and spoke so kindly and cordially, especially LizabethaProkofievna--she was saying the kindest possible things to him. 

Suddenly he became aware that General Epanchin was tapping him on theshoulder; Ivan Petrovitch was laughing too, but still more kind andsympathizing was the old dignitary. He took the prince by the hand andpressed it warmly; then he patted it, and quietly urged him to recollecthimself--speaking to him exactly as he would have spoken to a littlefrightened child, which pleased the prince wonderfully; and next seatedhim beside himself. 

The prince gazed into his face with pleasure, but still seemed to haveno power to speak. His breath failed him. The old man's face pleased himgreatly. 

"Do you really forgive me?" he said at last. "And--and LizabethaProkofievna too?" The laugh increased, tears came into the prince'seyes, he could not believe in all this kindness--he was enchanted. 

"The vase certainly was a very beautiful one. I remember it here forfifteen years--yes, quite that!" remarked Ivan Petrovitch. 

"Oh, what a dreadful calamity! A wretched vase smashed, and a man halfdead with remorse about it, " said Lizabetha Prokofievna, loudly. "Whatmade you so dreadfully startled, Lef Nicolaievitch?" she added, a littletimidly. "Come, my dear boy! cheer up. You really alarm me, taking theaccident so to heart. "

"Do you forgive me all--ALL, besides the vase, I mean?" said the prince, rising from his seat once more, but the old gentleman caught his handand drew him down again--he seemed unwilling to let him go. 

"C'est tres-curieux et c'est tres-serieux, " he whispered across thetable to Ivan Petrovitch, rather loudly. Probably the prince heard him. 

"So that I have not offended any of you? You will not believe how happyI am to be able to think so. It is as it should be. As if I COULD offendanyone here! I should offend you again by even suggesting such a thing. "

"Calm yourself, my dear fellow. You are exaggerating again; you reallyhave no occasion to be so grateful to us. It is a feeling which does yougreat credit, but an exaggeration, for all that. "

"I am not exactly thanking you, I am only feeling a growing admirationfor you--it makes me happy to look at you. I dare say I am speaking veryfoolishly, but I must speak--I must explain, if it be out of nothingbetter than self-respect. "

All he said and did was abrupt, confused, feverish--very likely thewords he spoke, as often as not, were not those he wished to say. Heseemed to inquire whether he MIGHT speak. His eyes lighted on PrincessBielokonski. 

"All right, my friend, talk away, talk away!" she remarked. "Only don'tlose your breath; you were in such a hurry when you began, and look whatyou've come to now! Don't be afraid of speaking--all these ladiesand gentlemen have seen far stranger people than yourself; you don'tastonish THEM. You are nothing out-of-the-way remarkable, you know. You've done nothing but break a vase, and give us all a fright. "

The prince listened, smiling. 

"Wasn't it you, " he said, suddenly turning to the old gentleman, "whosaved the student Porkunoff and a clerk called Shoabrin from being sentto Siberia, two or three months since?"

The old dignitary blushed a little, and murmured that the prince hadbetter not excite himself further. 

"And I have heard of YOU, " continued the prince, addressing IvanPetrovitch, "that when some of your villagers were burned out you gavethem wood to build up their houses again, though they were no longeryour serfs and had behaved badly towards you. "

"Oh, come, come! You are exaggerating, " said Ivan Petrovitch, beamingwith satisfaction, all the same. He was right, however, in thisinstance, for the report had reached the prince's ears in an incorrectform. 

"And you, princess, " he went on, addressing Princess Bielokonski, "wasit not you who received me in Moscow, six months since, as kindly asthough I had been your own son, in response to a letter from LizabethaProkofievna; and gave me one piece of advice, again as to your own son, which I shall never forget? Do you remember?"

"What are you making such a fuss about?" said the old lady, withannoyance. "You are a good fellow, but very silly. One gives you ahalfpenny, and you are as grateful as though one had saved your life. You think this is praiseworthy on your part, but it is not--it is not, indeed. "

She seemed to be very angry, but suddenly burst out laughing, quitegood-humouredly. 

Lizabetha Prokofievna's face brightened up, too; so did that of GeneralEpanchin. 

"I told you Lef Nicolaievitch was a man--a man--if only he would notbe in such a hurry, as the princess remarked, " said the latter, withdelight. 

Aglaya alone seemed sad and depressed; her face was flushed, perhapswith indignation. 

"He really is very charming, " whispered the old dignitary to IvanPetrovitch. 

"I came into this room with anguish in my heart, " continued the prince, with ever-growing agitation, speaking quicker and quicker, and withincreasing strangeness. "I--I was afraid of you all, and afraid ofmyself. I was most afraid of myself. When I returned to Petersburg, Ipromised myself to make a point of seeing our greatest men, and membersof our oldest families--the old families like my own. I am now amongprinces like myself, am I not? I wished to know you, and it wasnecessary, very, very necessary. I had always heard so much that wasevil said of you all--more evil than good; as to how small and pettywere your interests, how absurd your habits, how shallow your education, and so on. There is so much written and said about you! I came heretoday with anxious curiosity; I wished to see for myself and form myown convictions as to whether it were true that the whole of this upperstratum of Russian society is WORTHLESS, has outlived its time, hasexisted too long, and is only fit to die--and yet is dying with petty, spiteful warring against that which is destined to supersede it and takeits place--hindering the Coming Men, and knowing not that itself is ina dying condition. I did not fully believe in this view even before, forthere never was such a class among us--excepting perhaps at court, byaccident--or by uniform; but now there is not even that, is there? Ithas vanished, has it not?"

"No, not a bit of it, " said Ivan Petrovitch, with a sarcastic laugh. 

"Good Lord, he's off again!" said Princess Bielokonski, impatiently. 

"Laissez-le dire! He is trembling all over, " said the old man, in awarning whisper. 

The prince certainly was beside himself. 

"Well? What have I seen?" he continued. "I have seen men of gracefulsimplicity of intellect; I have seen an old man who is not abovespeaking kindly and even LISTENING to a boy like myself; I see beforeme persons who can understand, who can forgive--kind, good Russianhearts--hearts almost as kind and cordial as I met abroad. Imagine howdelighted I must have been, and how surprised! Oh, let me expressthis feeling! I have so often heard, and I have even believed, thatin society there was nothing but empty forms, and that reality hadvanished; but I now see for myself that this can never be the case HERE, among us--it may be the order elsewhere, but not in Russia. Surely youare not all Jesuits and deceivers! I heard Prince N. 's story just now. Was it not simple-minded, spontaneous humour? Could such words come fromthe lips of a man who is dead?--a man whose heart and talents are driedup? Could dead men and women have treated me so kindly as you have allbeen treating me to-day? Is there not material for the future in allthis--for hope? Can such people fail to UNDERSTAND? Can such men fallaway from reality?"

"Once more let us beg you to be calm, my dear boy. We'll talk of allthis another time--I shall do so with the greatest pleasure, for one, "said the old dignitary, with a smile. 

Ivan Petrovitch grunted and twisted round in his chair. General Epanchinmoved nervously. The latter's chief had started a conversation with thewife of the dignitary, and took no notice whatever of the prince, butthe old lady very often glanced at him, and listened to what he wassaying. 

"No, I had better speak, " continued the prince, with a new outburstof feverish emotion, and turning towards the old man with an air ofconfidential trustfulness. "Yesterday, Aglaya Ivanovna forbade meto talk, and even specified the particular subjects I must not touchupon--she knows well enough that I am odd when I get upon these matters. I am nearly twenty-seven years old, and yet I know I am little betterthan a child. I have no right to express my ideas, and said so long ago. Only in Moscow, with Rogojin, did I ever speak absolutely freely! He andI read Pushkin together--all his works. Rogojin knew nothing of Pushkin, had not even heard his name. I am always afraid of spoiling a greatThought or Idea by my absurd manner. I have no eloquence, I know. Ialways make the wrong gestures--inappropriate gestures--and thereforeI degrade the Thought, and raise a laugh instead of doing my subjectjustice. I have no sense of proportion either, and that is the chiefthing. I know it would be much better if I were always to sit still andsay nothing. When I do so, I appear to be quite a sensible sort of aperson, and what's more, I think about things. But now I must speak; itis better that I should. I began to speak because you looked so kindlyat me; you have such a beautiful face. I promised Aglaya Ivanovnayesterday that I would not speak all the evening. "

"Really?" said the old man, smiling. 

"But, at times, I can't help thinking that I am wrong in feeling soabout it, you know. Sincerity is more important than elocution, isn'tit?"

"Sometimes. "

"I want to explain all to you--everything--everything! I know you thinkme Utopian, don't you--an idealist? Oh, no! I'm not, indeed--my ideasare all so simple. You don't believe me? You are smiling. Do you know, I am sometimes very wicked--for I lose my faith? This evening as I camehere, I thought to myself, 'What shall I talk about? How am I to begin, so that they may be able to understand partially, at all events?' Howafraid I was--dreadfully afraid! And yet, how COULD I be afraid--was itnot shameful of me? Was I afraid of finding a bottomless abyss of emptyselfishness? Ah! that's why I am so happy at this moment, because I findthere is no bottomless abyss at all--but good, healthy material, full oflife. 

"It is not such a very dreadful circumstance that we are odd people, isit? For we really are odd, you know--careless, reckless, easily weariedof anything. We don't look thoroughly into matters--don't care tounderstand things. We are all like this--you and I, and all of them!Why, here are you, now--you are not a bit angry with me for calling youodd, ' are you? And, if so, surely there is good material in you? Do youknow, I sometimes think it is a good thing to be odd. We can forgiveone another more easily, and be more humble. No one can begin by beingperfect--there is much one cannot understand in life at first. In orderto attain to perfection, one must begin by failing to understand much. And if we take in knowledge too quickly, we very likely are not takingit in at all. I say all this to you--you who by this time understand somuch--and doubtless have failed to understand so much, also. I am notafraid of you any longer. You are not angry that a mere boy should saysuch words to you, are you? Of course not! You know how to forget and toforgive. You are laughing, Ivan Petrovitch? You think I am a championof other classes of people--that I am THEIR advocate, a democrat, andan orator of Equality?" The prince laughed hysterically; he had severaltimes burst into these little, short nervous laughs. "Oh, no--it is foryou, for myself, and for all of us together, that I am alarmed. I am aprince of an old family myself, and I am sitting among my peers; and Iam talking like this in the hope of saving us all; in the hope that ourclass will not disappear altogether--into the darkness--unguessing itsdanger--blaming everything around it, and losing ground every day. Whyshould we disappear and give place to others, when we may still, ifwe choose, remain in the front rank and lead the battle? Let us beservants, that we may become lords in due season!"

He tried to get upon his feet again, but the old man still restrainedhim, gazing at him with increasing perturbation as he went on. 

"Listen--I know it is best not to speak! It is best simply to give agood example--simply to begin the work. I have done this--I havebegun, and--and--oh! CAN anyone be unhappy, really? Oh! what does griefmatter--what does misfortune matter, if one knows how to be happy? Doyou know, I cannot understand how anyone can pass by a green tree, andnot feel happy only to look at it! How anyone can talk to a man and notfeel happy in loving him! Oh, it is my own fault that I cannot expressmyself well enough! But there are lovely things at every step Itake--things which even the most miserable man must recognize asbeautiful. Look at a little child--look at God's day-dawn--look at thegrass growing--look at the eyes that love you, as they gaze back intoyour eyes!"

He had risen, and was speaking standing up. The old gentleman waslooking at him now in unconcealed alarm. Lizabetha Prokofievna wrung herhands. "Oh, my God!" she cried. She had guessed the state of the casebefore anyone else. 

Aglaya rushed quickly up to him, and was just in time to receive him inher arms, and to hear with dread and horror that awful, wild cry as hefell writhing to the ground. 

There he lay on the carpet, and someone quickly placed a cushion underhis head. 

No one had expected this. 

In a quarter of an hour or so Prince N. And Evgenie Pavlovitch and theold dignitary were hard at work endeavouring to restore the harmonyof the evening, but it was of no avail, and very soon after the guestsseparated and went their ways. 

A great deal of sympathy was expressed; a considerable amount of advicewas volunteered; Ivan Petrovitch expressed his opinion that the youngman was "a Slavophile, or something of that sort"; but that it was not adangerous development. The old dignitary said nothing. 

True enough, most of the guests, next day and the day after, were notin very good humour. Ivan Petrovitch was a little offended, but notseriously so. General Epanchin's chief was rather cool towards him forsome while after the occurrence. The old dignitary, as patron of thefamily, took the opportunity of murmuring some kind of admonition to thegeneral, and added, in flattering terms, that he was most interestedin Aglaya's future. He was a man who really did possess a kind heart, although his interest in the prince, in the earlier part of the evening, was due, among other reasons, to the latter's connection with NastasiaPhilipovna, according to popular report. He had heard a good deal ofthis story here and there, and was greatly interested in it, so much sothat he longed to ask further questions about it. 

Princess Bielokonski, as she drove away on this eventful evening, tookoccasion to say to Lizabetha Prokofievna:

"Well--he's a good match--and a bad one; and if you want my opinion, more bad than good. You can see for yourself the man is an invalid. "

Lizabetha therefore decided that the prince was impossible as a husbandfor Aglaya; and during the ensuing night she made a vow that never whileshe lived should he marry Aglaya. With this resolve firmly impressedupon her mind, she awoke next day; but during the morning, after herearly lunch, she fell into a condition of remarkable inconsistency. 

In reply to a very guarded question of her sisters', Aglaya had answeredcoldly, but exceedingly haughtily:

"I have never given him my word at all, nor have I ever counted him asmy future husband--never in my life. He is just as little to me as allthe rest. "

Lizabetha Prokofievna suddenly flared up. 

"I did not expect that of you, Aglaya, " she said. "He is an impossiblehusband for you, --I know it; and thank God that we agree upon thatpoint; but I did not expect to hear such words from you. I thought Ishould hear a very different tone from you. I would have turned outeveryone who was in the room last night and kept him, --that's the sortof man he is, in my opinion!"

Here she suddenly paused, afraid of what she had just said. But shelittle knew how unfair she was to her daughter at that moment. It wasall settled in Aglaya's mind. She was only waiting for the hour thatwould bring the matter to a final climax; and every hint, every carelessprobing of her wound, did but further lacerate her heart. 

VIII. 

THIS same morning dawned for the prince pregnant with no less painfulpresentiments, --which fact his physical state was, of course, quiteenough to account for; but he was so indefinably melancholy, --hissadness could not attach itself to anything in particular, and thistormented him more than anything else. Of course certain facts stoodbefore him, clear and painful, but his sadness went beyond all that hecould remember or imagine; he realized that he was powerless to consolehimself unaided. Little by little he began to develop the expectationthat this day something important, something decisive, was to happen tohim. 

His attack of yesterday had been a slight one. Excepting some littleheaviness in the head and pain in the limbs, he did not feel anyparticular effects. His brain worked all right, though his soul washeavy within him. 

He rose late, and immediately upon waking remembered all about theprevious evening; he also remembered, though not quite so clearly, how, half an hour after his fit, he had been carried home. 

He soon heard that a messenger from the Epanchins' had already been toinquire after him. At half-past eleven another arrived; and this pleasedhim. 

Vera Lebedeff was one of the first to come to see him and offer herservices. No sooner did she catch sight of him than she burst intotears; but when he tried to soothe her she began to laugh. He was quitestruck by the girl's deep sympathy for him; he seized her hand andkissed it. Vera flushed crimson. 

"Oh, don't, don't!" she exclaimed in alarm, snatching her hand away. Shewent hastily out of the room in a state of strange confusion. 

Lebedeff also came to see the prince, in a great hurry to get away tothe "deceased, " as he called General Ivolgin, who was alive still, butvery ill. Colia also turned up, and begged the prince for pity's sake totell him all he knew about his father which had been concealed from himtill now. He said he had found out nearly everything since yesterday;the poor boy was in a state of deep affliction. With all the sympathywhich he could bring into play, the prince told Colia the whole storywithout reserve, detailing the facts as clearly as he could. Thetale struck Colia like a thunderbolt. He could not speak. He listenedsilently, and cried softly to himself the while. The prince perceivedthat this was an impression which would last for the whole of the boy'slife. He made haste to explain his view of the matter, and pointed outthat the old man's approaching death was probably brought on by horrorat the thought of his action; and that it was not everyone who wascapable of such a feeling. 

Colia's eyes flashed as he listened. 

"Gania and Varia and Ptitsin are a worthless lot! I shall not quarrelwith them; but from this moment our feet shall not travel the same road. Oh, prince, I have felt much that is quite new to me since yesterday!It is a lesson for me. I shall now consider my mother as entirely myresponsibility; though she may be safe enough with Varia. Still, meatand drink is not everything. "

He jumped up and hurried off, remembering suddenly that he was wantedat his father's bedside; but before he went out of the room he inquiredhastily after the prince's health, and receiving the latter's reply, added:

"Isn't there something else, prince? I heard yesterday, but I haveno right to talk about this. . . If you ever want a true friend andservant--neither you nor I are so very happy, are we?--come to me. Iwon't ask you questions, though. "

He ran off and left the prince more dejected than ever. 

Everyone seemed to be speaking prophetically, hinting at some misfortuneor sorrow to come; they had all looked at him as though they knewsomething which he did not know. Lebedeff had asked questions, Colia hadhinted, and Vera had shed tears. What was it?

At last, with a sigh of annoyance, he said to himself that it wasnothing but his own cursed sickly suspicion. His face lighted up withjoy when, at about two o'clock, he espied the Epanchins coming along topay him a short visit, "just for a minute. " They really had only comefor a minute. 

Lizabetha Prokofievna had announced, directly after lunch, that theywould all take a walk together. The information was given in the form ofa command, without explanation, drily and abruptly. All had issued forthin obedience to the mandate; that is, the girls, mamma, and Prince S. Lizabetha Prokofievna went off in a direction exactly contrary to theusual one, and all understood very well what she was driving at, butheld their peace, fearing to irritate the good lady. She, as thoughanxious to avoid any conversation, walked ahead, silent and alone. Atlast Adelaida remarked that it was no use racing along at such a pace, and that she could not keep up with her mother. 

"Look here, " said Lizabetha Prokofievna, turning round suddenly; "we arepassing his house. Whatever Aglaya may think, and in spite of anythingthat may happen, he is not a stranger to us; besides which, he is illand in misfortune. I, for one, shall call in and see him. Let anyonefollow me who cares to. "

Of course every one of them followed her. 

The prince hastened to apologize, very properly, for yesterday's mishapwith the vase, and for the scene generally. 

"Oh, that's nothing, " replied Lizabetha; "I'm not sorry for the vase, I'm sorry for you. H'm! so you can see that there was a 'scene, ' canyou? Well, it doesn't matter much, for everyone must realize now that itis impossible to be hard on you. Well, au revoir. I advise you to havea walk, and then go to sleep again if you can. Come in as usual, ifyou feel inclined; and be assured, once for all, whatever happens, andwhatever may have happened, you shall always remain the friend of thefamily--mine, at all events. I can answer for myself. "

In response to this challenge all the others chimed in and re-echoedmamma's sentiments. 

And so they took their departure; but in this hasty and kindly designedvisit there was hidden a fund of cruelty which Lizabetha Prokofievnanever dreamed of. In the words "as usual, " and again in her added, "mine, at all events, " there seemed an ominous knell of some evil tocome. 

The prince began to think of Aglaya. She had certainly given him awonderful smile, both at coming and again at leave-taking, but had notsaid a word, not even when the others all professed their friendship forhim. She had looked very intently at him, but that was all. Her face hadbeen paler than usual; she looked as though she had slept badly. 

The prince made up his mind that he would make a point of going there"as usual, " tonight, and looked feverishly at his watch. 

Vera came in three minutes after the Epanchins had left. "LefNicolaievitch, " she said, "Aglaya Ivanovna has just given me a messagefor you. "

The prince trembled. 

"Is it a note?"

"No, a verbal message; she had hardly time even for that. She begs youearnestly not to go out of the house for a single moment all to-day, until seven o'clock in the evening. It may have been nine; I didn'tquite hear. "

"But--but, why is this? What does it mean?"

"I don't know at all; but she said I was to tell you particularly. "

"Did she say that?"

"Not those very words. She only just had time to whisper as she went by;but by the way she looked at me I knew it was important. She looked atme in a way that made my heart stop beating. "

The prince asked a few more questions, and though he learned nothingelse, he became more and more agitated. 

Left alone, he lay down on the sofa, and began to think. 

"Perhaps, " he thought, "someone is to be with them until nine tonightand she is afraid that I may come and make a fool of myself again, inpublic. " So he spent his time longing for the evening and looking at hiswatch. But the clearing-up of the mystery came long before the evening, and came in the form of a new and agonizing riddle. 

Half an hour after the Epanchins had gone, Hippolyte arrived, so tiredthat, almost unconscious, he sank into a chair, and broke into such afit of coughing that he could not stop. He coughed till the blood came. His eyes glittered, and two red spots on his cheeks grew brighter andbrighter. The prince murmured something to him, but Hippolyte onlysigned that he must be left alone for a while, and sat silent. At lasthe came to himself. 

"I am off, " he said, hoarsely, and with difficulty. 

"Shall I see you home?" asked the prince, rising from his seat, butsuddenly stopping short as he remembered Aglaya's prohibition againstleaving the house. Hippolyte laughed. 

"I don't mean that I am going to leave your house, " he continued, still gasping and coughing. "On the contrary, I thought it absolutelynecessary to come and see you; otherwise I should not have troubled you. I am off there, you know, and this time I believe, seriously, that I amoff! It's all over. I did not come here for sympathy, believe me. I laydown this morning at ten o'clock with the intention of not rising againbefore that time; but I thought it over and rose just once more inorder to come here; from which you may deduce that I had some reason forwishing to come. "

"It grieves me to see you so, Hippolyte. Why didn't you send me amessage? I would have come up and saved you this trouble. "

"Well, well! Enough! You've pitied me, and that's all that good mannersexact. I forgot, how are you?"

"I'm all right; yesterday I was a little--"

"I know, I heard; the china vase caught it! I'm sorry I wasn't there. I've come about something important. In the first place I had, thepleasure of seeing Gavrila Ardalionovitch and Aglaya Ivanovna enjoying arendezvous on the green bench in the park. I was astonished to see whata fool a man can look. I remarked upon the fact to Aglaya Ivanovna whenhe had gone. I don't think anything ever surprises you, prince!" addedHippolyte, gazing incredulously at the prince's calm demeanour. "To beastonished by nothing is a sign, they say, of a great intellect. In myopinion it would serve equally well as a sign of great foolishness. Iam not hinting about you; pardon me! I am very unfortunate today in myexpressions. 

"I knew yesterday that Gavrila Ardalionovitch--" began the prince, andpaused in evident confusion, though Hippolyte had shown annoyance at hisbetraying no surprise. 

"You knew it? Come, that's news! But no--perhaps better not tell me. Andwere you a witness of the meeting?"

"If you were there yourself you must have known that I was NOT there!"

"Oh! but you may have been sitting behind the bushes somewhere. However, I am very glad, on your account, of course. I was beginning to be afraidthat Mr. Gania--might have the preference!"

"May I ask you, Hippolyte, not to talk of this subject? And not to usesuch expressions?"

"Especially as you know all, eh?"

"You are wrong. I know scarcely anything, and Aglaya Ivanovna is awarethat I know nothing. I knew nothing whatever about this meeting. You saythere was a meeting. Very well; let's leave it so--"

"Why, what do you mean? You said you knew, and now suddenly you knownothing! You say 'very well; let's leave it so. ' But I say, don't beso confiding, especially as you know nothing. You are confiding simplyBECAUSE you know nothing. But do you know what these good people havein their minds' eye--Gania and his sister? Perhaps you are suspicious?Well, well, I'll drop the subject!" he added, hastily, observing theprince's impatient gesture. "But I've come to you on my own business;I wish to make you a clear explanation. What a nuisance it is that onecannot die without explanations! I have made such a quantity of themalready. Do you wish to hear what I have to say?"

"Speak away, I am listening. "

"Very well, but I'll change my mind, and begin about Gania. Just fancyto begin with, if you can, that I, too, was given an appointment atthe green bench today! However, I won't deceive you; I asked for theappointment. I said I had a secret to disclose. I don't know whether Icame there too early, I think I must have; but scarcely had I sat downbeside Aglaya Ivanovna than I saw Gavrila Ardalionovitch and his sisterVaria coming along, arm in arm, just as though they were enjoying amorning walk together. Both of them seemed very much astonished, notto say disturbed, at seeing me; they evidently had not expectedthe pleasure. Aglaya Ivanovna blushed up, and was actually a littleconfused. I don't know whether it was merely because I was there, orwhether Gania's beauty was too much for her! But anyway, she turnedcrimson, and then finished up the business in a very funny manner. She jumped up from her seat, bowed back to Gania, smiled to Varia, andsuddenly observed: 'I only came here to express my gratitude for allyour kind wishes on my behalf, and to say that if I find I need yourservices, believe me--' Here she bowed them away, as it were, and theyboth marched off again, looking very foolish. Gania evidently could notmake head nor tail of the matter, and turned as red as a lobster; butVaria understood at once that they must get away as quickly as theycould, so she dragged Gania away; she is a great deal cleverer than heis. As for myself, I went there to arrange a meeting to be held betweenAglaya Ivanovna and Nastasia Philipovna. "

"Nastasia Philipovna!" cried the prince. 

"Aha! I think you are growing less cool, my friend, and are beginningto be a trifle surprised, aren't you? I'm glad that you are not aboveordinary human feelings, for once. I'll console you a little now, afteryour consternation. See what I get for serving a young and high-souledmaiden! This morning I received a slap in the face from the lady!"

"A--a moral one?" asked the prince, involuntarily. 

"Yes--not a physical one! I don't suppose anyone--even a woman--wouldraise a hand against me now. Even Gania would hesitate! I did think atone time yesterday, that he would fly at me, though. I bet anything thatI know what you are thinking of now! You are thinking: 'Of course onecan't strike the little wretch, but one could suffocate him with apillow, or a wet towel, when he is asleep! One OUGHT to get rid of himsomehow. ' I can see in your face that you are thinking that at this verysecond. "

"I never thought of such a thing for a moment, " said the prince, withdisgust. 

"I don't know--I dreamed last night that I was being suffocated with awet cloth by--somebody. I'll tell you who it was--Rogojin! What do youthink, can a man be suffocated with a wet cloth?"

"I don't know. "

"I've heard so. Well, we'll leave that question just now. Why am I ascandal-monger? Why did she call me a scandal-monger? And mind, AFTERshe had heard every word I had to tell her, and had asked all sorts ofquestions besides--but such is the way of women. For HER sake I enteredinto relations with Rogojin--an interesting man! At HER request Iarranged a personal interview between herself and Nastasia Philipovna. Could she have been angry because I hinted that she was enjoyingNastasia Philipovna's 'leavings'? Why, I have been impressing it uponher all this while for her own good. Two letters have I written her inthat strain, and I began straight off today about its being humiliatingfor her. Besides, the word 'leavings' is not my invention. At allevents, they all used it at Gania's, and she used it herself. So why amI a scandal-monger? I see--I see you are tremendously amused, at thismoment! Probably you are laughing at me and fitting those silly lines tomy case--

"'Maybe sad Love upon his setting smiles, And with vain hopes hisfarewell hour beguiles. 

"Ha, ha, ha!"

Hippolyte suddenly burst into a fit of hysterical laughter, which turnedinto a choking cough. 

"Observe, " he gasped, through his coughing, "what a fellow Gania is!He talks about Nastasia's 'leavings, ' but what does he want to takehimself?"

The prince sat silent for a long while. His mind was filled with dreadand horror. 

"You spoke of a meeting with Nastasia Philipovna, " he said at last, in alow voice. 

"Oh--come! Surely you must know that there is to be a meeting todaybetween Nastasia and Aglaya Ivanovna, and that Nastasia has been sentfor on purpose, through Rogojin, from St. Petersburg? It has beenbrought about by invitation of Aglaya Ivanovna and my own efforts, andNastasia is at this moment with Rogojin, not far from here--at DanaAlexeyevna's--that curious friend of hers; and to this questionablehouse Aglaya Ivanovna is to proceed for a friendly chat with NastasiaPhilipovna, and for the settlement of several problems. They are goingto play at arithmetic--didn't you know about it? Word of honour?"

"It's a most improbable story. "

"Oh, very well! if it's improbable--it is--that's all! And yet--whereshould you have heard it? Though I must say, if a fly crosses the roomit's known all over the place here. However, I've warned you, and youmay be grateful to me. Well--au revoir--probably in the next world! Onemore thing--don't think that I am telling you all this for your sake. Oh, dear, no! Do you know that I dedicated my confession to AglayaIvanovna? I did though, and how she took it, ha, ha! Oh, no! I am notacting from any high, exalted motives. But though I may have behavedlike a cad to you, I have not done HER any harm. I don't apologize formy words about 'leavings' and all that. I am atoning for that, yousee, by telling you the place and time of the meeting. Goodbye! Youhad better take your measures, if you are worthy the name of a man! Themeeting is fixed for this evening--that's certain. "

Hippolyte walked towards the door, but the prince called him back and hestopped. 

"Then you think Aglaya Ivanovna herself intends to go to NastasiaPhilipovna's tonight?" he asked, and bright hectic spots came out on hischeeks and forehead. 

"I don't know absolutely for certain; but in all probability it is so, "replied Hippolyte, looking round. "Nastasia would hardly go to her; andthey can't meet at Gania's, with a man nearly dead in the house. "

"It's impossible, for that very reason, " said the prince. "How would sheget out if she wished to? You don't know the habits of that house--sheCOULD not get away alone to Nastasia Philipovna's! It's all nonsense!"

"Look here, my dear prince, no one jumps out of the window if they canhelp it; but when there's a fire, the dandiest gentleman or the finestlady in the world will skip out! When the moment comes, andthere's nothing else to be done--our young lady will go to NastasiaPhilipovna's! Don't they let the young ladies out of the house alone, then?"

"I didn't mean that exactly. "

"If you didn't mean that, then she has only to go down the steps andwalk off, and she need never come back unless she chooses: Ships areburned behind one sometimes, and one doesn't care to return whence onecame. Life need not consist only of lunches, and dinners, and PrinceS's. It strikes me you take Aglaya Ivanovna for some conventionalboarding-school girl. I said so to her, and she quite agreed with me. Wait till seven or eight o'clock. In your place I would send someonethere to keep watch, so as to seize the exact moment when she steps outof the house. Send Colia. He'll play the spy with pleasure--for you atleast. Ha, ha, ha!"

Hippolyte went out. 

There was no reason for the prince to set anyone to watch, even if hehad been capable of such a thing. Aglaya's command that he should stayat home all day seemed almost explained now. Perhaps she meant to callfor him, herself, or it might be, of course, that she was anxious tomake sure of his not coming there, and therefore bade him remain athome. His head whirled; the whole room seemed to be turning round. Helay down on the sofa, and closed his eyes. 

One way or the other the question was to be decided at last--finally. 

Oh, no, he did not think of Aglaya as a boarding-school miss, or a younglady of the conventional type! He had long since feared that she mighttake some such step as this. But why did she wish to see Nastasia?

He shivered all over as he lay; he was in high fever again. 

No! he did not account her a child. Certain of her looks, certain of herwords, of late, had filled him with apprehension. At times it had struckhim that she was putting too great a restraint upon herself, and heremembered that he had been alarmed to observe this. He had tried, allthese days, to drive away the heavy thoughts that oppressed him;but what was the hidden mystery of that soul? The question had longtormented him, although he implicitly trusted that soul. And now it wasall to be cleared up. It was a dreadful thought. And "that woman" again!Why did he always feel as though "that woman" were fated to appear ateach critical moment of his life, and tear the thread of his destinylike a bit of rotten string? That he always HAD felt this he was readyto swear, although he was half delirious at the moment. If he had triedto forget her, all this time, it was simply because he was afraid ofher. Did he love the woman or hate her? This question he did not onceask himself today; his heart was quite pure. He knew whom he loved. Hewas not so much afraid of this meeting, nor of its strangeness, nor ofany reasons there might be for it, unknown to himself; he was afraidof the woman herself, Nastasia Philipovna. He remembered, some daysafterwards, how during all those fevered hours he had seen but HER eyes, HER look, had heard HER voice, strange words of hers; he rememberedthat this was so, although he could not recollect the details of histhoughts. 

He could remember that Vera brought him some dinner, and that he tookit; but whether he slept after dinner, or no, he could not recollect. 

He only knew that he began to distinguish things clearly from the momentwhen Aglaya suddenly appeared, and he jumped up from the sofa and wentto meet her. It was just a quarter past seven then. 

Aglaya was quite alone, and dressed, apparently hastily, in a lightmantle. Her face was pale, as it had been in the morning, and hereyes were ablaze with bright but subdued fire. He had never seen thatexpression in her eyes before. 

She gazed attentively at him. 

"You are quite ready, I observe, " she said, with absolute composure, "dressed, and your hat in your hand. I see somebody has thought fit towarn you, and I know who. Hippolyte?"

"Yes, he told me, " said the prince, feeling only half alive. 

"Come then. You know, I suppose, that you must escort me there? You arewell enough to go out, aren't you?"

"I am well enough; but is it really possible?--"

He broke off abruptly, and could not add another word. This was his oneattempt to stop the mad child, and, after he had made it, he followedher as though he had no will of his own. Confused as his thoughts were, he was, nevertheless, capable of realizing the fact that if he didnot go with her, she would go alone, and so he must go with her at allhazards. He guessed the strength of her determination; it was beyond himto check it. 

They walked silently, and said scarcely a word all the way. He onlynoticed that she seemed to know the road very well; and once, when hethought it better to go by a certain lane, and remarked to her that itwould be quieter and less public, she only said, "it's all the same, "and went on. 

When they were almost arrived at Daria Alexeyevna's house (it was alarge wooden structure of ancient date), a gorgeously-dressed lady anda young girl came out of it. Both these ladies took their seats in acarriage, which was waiting at the door, talking and laughing loudlythe while, and drove away without appearing to notice the approachingcouple. 

No sooner had the carriage driven off than the door opened once more;and Rogojin, who had apparently been awaiting them, let them in andclosed it after them. 

"There is not another soul in the house now excepting our four selves, "he said aloud, looking at the prince in a strange way. 

Nastasia Philipovna was waiting for them in the first room they wentinto. She was dressed very simply, in black. 

She rose at their entrance, but did not smile or give her hand, even tothe prince. Her anxious eyes were fixed upon Aglaya. Both sat down, ata little distance from one another--Aglaya on the sofa, in the cornerof the room, Nastasia by the window. The prince and Rogojin remainedstanding, and were not invited to sit. 

Muishkin glanced at Rogojin in perplexity, but the latter only smileddisagreeably, and said nothing. The silence continued for some fewmoments. 

An ominous expression passed over Nastasia Philipovna's face, of asudden. It became obstinate-looking, hard, and full of hatred; but shedid not take her eyes off her visitors for a moment. 

Aglaya was clearly confused, but not frightened. On entering she hadmerely glanced momentarily at her rival, and then had sat still, withher eyes on the ground, apparently in thought. Once or twice sheglanced casually round the room. A shade of disgust was visible in herexpression; she looked as though she were afraid of contamination inthis place. 

She mechanically arranged her dress, and fidgeted uncomfortably, eventually changing her seat to the other end of the sofa. Probablyshe was unconscious of her own movements; but this very unconsciousnessadded to the offensiveness of their suggested meaning. 

At length she looked straight into Nastasia's eyes, and instantly readall there was to read in her rival's expression. Woman understood woman!Aglaya shuddered. 

"You know of course why I requested this meeting?" she said at last, quietly, and pausing twice in the delivery of this very short sentence. 

"No--I know nothing about it, " said Nastasia, drily and abruptly. 

Aglaya blushed. Perhaps it struck her as very strange and impossiblethat she should really be sitting here and waiting for "that woman's"reply to her question. 

At the first sound of Nastasia's voice a shudder ran through her frame. Of course "that woman" observed and took in all this. 

"You know quite well, but you are pretending to be ignorant, " saidAglaya, very low, with her eyes on the ground. 

"Why should I?" asked Nastasia Philipovna, smiling slightly. 

"You want to take advantage of my position, now that I am in yourhouse, " continued Aglaya, awkwardly. 

"For that position YOU are to blame and not I, " said Nastasia, flaringup suddenly. "_I_ did not invite YOU, but you me; and to this moment Iam quite ignorant as to why I am thus honoured. "

Aglaya raised her head haughtily. 

"Restrain your tongue!" she said. "I did not come here to fight you withyour own weapons. 

"Oh! then you did come 'to fight, ' I may conclude? Dear me!--and Ithought you were cleverer--"

They looked at one another with undisguised malice. One of these womenhad written to the other, so lately, such letters as we have seen; andit all was dispersed at their first meeting. Yet it appeared thatnot one of the four persons in the room considered this in any degreestrange. 

The prince who, up to yesterday, would not have believed that he couldeven dream of such an impossible scene as this, stood and listened andlooked on, and felt as though he had long foreseen it all. The mostfantastic dream seemed suddenly to have been metamorphosed into the mostvivid reality. 

One of these women so despised the other, and so longed to express hercontempt for her (perhaps she had only come for that very purpose, asRogojin said next day), that howsoever fantastical was the other woman, howsoever afflicted her spirit and disturbed her understanding, nopreconceived idea of hers could possibly stand up against that deadlyfeminine contempt of her rival. The prince felt sure that Nastasiawould say nothing about the letters herself; but he could judge by herflashing eyes and the expression of her face what the thought of thoseletters must be costing her at this moment. He would have given half hislife to prevent Aglaya from speaking of them. But Aglaya suddenly bracedherself up, and seemed to master herself fully, all in an instant. 

"You have not quite understood, " she said. "I did not come to quarrelwith you, though I do not like you. I came to speak to you as. . . As onehuman being to another. I came with my mind made up as to what I hadto say to you, and I shall not change my intention, although you maymisunderstand me. So much the worse for you, not for myself! I wished toreply to all you have written to me and to reply personally, because Ithink that is the more convenient way. Listen to my reply to all yourletters. I began to be sorry for Prince Lef Nicolaievitch on the veryday I made his acquaintance, and when I heard--afterwards--of all thattook place at your house in the evening, I was sorry for him because hewas such a simple-minded man, and because he, in the simplicity of hissoul, believed that he could be happy with a woman of your character. What I feared actually took place; you could not love him, you torturedhim, and threw him over. You could not love him because you are tooproud--no, not proud, that is an error; because you are too vain--no, not quite that either; too self-loving; you are self-loving to madness. Your letters to me are a proof of it. You could not love so simple asoul as his, and perhaps in your heart you despised him and laughed athim. All you could love was your shame and the perpetual thought thatyou were disgraced and insulted. If you were less shameful, or had nocause at all for shame, you would be still more unhappy than you arenow. "

Aglaya brought out these thronging words with great satisfaction. Theycame from her lips hurriedly and impetuously, and had been prepared andthought out long ago, even before she had ever dreamed of the presentmeeting. She watched with eagerness the effect of her speech as shown inNastasia's face, which was distorted with agitation. 

"You remember, " she continued, "he wrote me a letter at that time;he says you know all about that letter and that you even read it. Iunderstand all by means of this letter, and understand it correctly. Hehas since confirmed it all to me--what I now say to you, word for word. After receiving his letter I waited; I guessed that you would soon comeback here, because you could never do without Petersburg; you are stilltoo young and lovely for the provinces. However, this is not my ownidea, " she added, blushing dreadfully; and from this moment the colournever left her cheeks to the end of her speech. "When I next saw theprince I began to feel terribly pained and hurt on his account. Do notlaugh; if you laugh you are unworthy of understanding what I say. "

"Surely you see that I am not laughing, " said Nastasia, sadly andsternly. 

"However, it's all the same to me; laugh or not, just as you please. When I asked him about you, he told me that he had long since ceased tolove you, that the very recollection of you was a torture to him, butthat he was sorry for you; and that when he thought of you his heart waspierced. I ought to tell you that I never in my life met a man anythinglike him for noble simplicity of mind and for boundless trustfulness. I guessed that anyone who liked could deceive him, and that he wouldimmediately forgive anyone who did deceive him; and it was for this thatI grew to love him--"

Aglaya paused for a moment, as though suddenly brought up inastonishment that she could have said these words, but at the same timea great pride shone in her eyes, like a defiant assertion that it wouldnot matter to her if "this woman" laughed in her face for the admissionjust made. 

"I have told you all now, and of course you understand what I wish ofyou. "

"Perhaps I do; but tell me yourself, " said Nastasia Philipovna, quietly. 

Aglaya flushed up angrily. 

"I wished to find out from you, " she said, firmly, "by what right youdare to meddle with his feelings for me? By what right you dared send methose letters? By what right do you continually remind both me and himthat you love him, after you yourself threw him over and ran away fromhim in so insulting and shameful a way?"

"I never told either him or you that I loved him!" replied NastasiaPhilipovna, with an effort. "And--and I did run away from him--you areright there, " she added, scarcely audibly. 

"Never told either him or me?" cried Aglaya. "How about your letters?Who asked you to try to persuade me to marry him? Was not that adeclaration from you? Why do you force yourself upon us in this way? Iconfess I thought at first that you were anxious to arouse an aversionfor him in my heart by your meddling, in order that I might give him up;and it was only afterwards that I guessed the truth. You imagined thatyou were doing an heroic action! How could you spare any love for him, when you love your own vanity to such an extent? Why could you notsimply go away from here, instead of writing me those absurd letters?Why do you not NOW marry that generous man who loves you, and has doneyou the honour of offering you his hand? It is plain enough why; if youmarry Rogojin you lose your grievance; you will have nothing more tocomplain of. You will be receiving too much honour. Evgenie Pavlovitchwas saying the other day that you had read too many poems and are toowell educated for--your position; and that you live in idleness. Add tothis your vanity, and, there you have reason enough--"

"And do you not live in idleness?"

Things had come to this unexpected point too quickly. Unexpected becauseNastasia Philipovna, on her way to Pavlofsk, had thought and considereda good deal, and had expected something different, though perhaps notaltogether good, from this interview; but Aglaya had been carried awayby her own outburst, just as a rolling stone gathers impetus as itcareers downhill, and could not restrain herself in the satisfaction ofrevenge. 

It was strange, Nastasia Philipovna felt, to see Aglaya like this. Shegazed at her, and could hardly believe her eyes and ears for a moment ortwo. 

Whether she were a woman who had read too many poems, as EvgeniePavlovitch supposed, or whether she were mad, as the prince hadassured Aglaya, at all events, this was a woman who, in spite of heroccasionally cynical and audacious manner, was far more refined andtrustful and sensitive than appeared. There was a certain amount ofromantic dreaminess and caprice in her, but with the fantastic wasmingled much that was strong and deep. 

The prince realized this, and great suffering expressed itself in hisface. 

Aglaya observed it, and trembled with anger. 

"How dare you speak so to me?" she said, with a haughtiness which wasquite indescribable, replying to Nastasia's last remark. 

"You must have misunderstood what I said, " said Nastasia, in somesurprise. 

"If you wished to preserve your good name, why did you not give upyour--your 'guardian, ' Totski, without all that theatrical posturing?"said Aglaya, suddenly a propos of nothing. 

"What do you know of my position, that you dare to judge me?" criedNastasia, quivering with rage, and growing terribly white. 

"I know this much, that you did not go out to honest work, but went awaywith a rich man, Rogojin, in order to pose as a fallen angel. I don'twonder that Totski was nearly driven to suicide by such a fallen angel. "

"Silence!" cried Nastasia Philipovna. "You are about as fit tounderstand me as the housemaid here, who bore witness against her loverin court the other day. She would understand me better than you do. "

"Probably an honest girl living by her own toil. Why do you speak of ahousemaid so contemptuously?"

"I do not despise toil; I despise you when you speak of toil. "

"If you had cared to be an honest woman, you would have gone out as alaundress. "

Both had risen, and were gazing at one another with pallid faces. 

"Aglaya, don't! This is unfair, " cried the prince, deeply distressed. 

Rogojin was not smiling now; he sat and listened with folded arms, andlips tight compressed. 

"There, look at her, " cried Nastasia, trembling with passion. "Look atthis young lady! And I imagined her an angel! Did you come to me withoutyour governess, Aglaya Ivanovna? Oh, fie, now shall I just tell you whyyou came here today? Shall I tell you without any embellishments? Youcame because you were afraid of me!"

"Afraid of YOU?" asked Aglaya, beside herself with naive amazement thatthe other should dare talk to her like this. 

"Yes, me, of course! Of course you were afraid of me, or you would nothave decided to come. You cannot despise one you fear. And to think thatI have actually esteemed you up to this very moment! Do you know whyyou are afraid of me, and what is your object now? You wished to satisfyyourself with your own eyes as to which he loves best, myself or you, because you are fearfully jealous. "

"He has told me already that he hates you, " murmured Aglaya, scarcelyaudibly. 

"Perhaps, perhaps! I am not worthy of him, I know. But I think you arelying, all the same. He cannot hate me, and he cannot have said so. I amready to forgive you, in consideration of your position; but I confessI thought better of you. I thought you were wiser, and more beautiful, too; I did, indeed! Well, take your treasure! See, he is gazing at you, he can't recollect himself. Take him, but on one condition; go away atonce, this instant!"

She fell back into a chair, and burst into tears. But suddenly some newexpression blazed in her eyes. She stared fixedly at Aglaya, and rosefrom her seat. 

"Or would you like me to bid him, BID HIM, do you hear, COMMAND HIM, now, at once, to throw you up, and remain mine for ever? Shall I? Hewill stay, and he will marry me too, and you shall trot home all alone. Shall I?--shall I say the word?" she screamed like a madwoman, scarcelybelieving herself that she could really pronounce such wild words. 

Aglaya had made for the door in terror, but she stopped at thethreshold, and listened. "Shall I turn Rogojin off? Ha! ha! you thoughtI would marry him for your benefit, did you? Why, I'll call out NOW, ifyou like, in your presence, 'Rogojin, get out!' and say to the prince, 'Do you remember what you promised me?' Heavens! what a fool I have beento humiliate myself before them! Why, prince, you yourself gave me yourword that you would marry me whatever happened, and would never abandonme. You said you loved me and would forgive me all, and--and resp--yes, you even said that! I only ran away from you in order to set you free, and now I don't care to let you go again. Why does she treat me so--soshamefully? I am not a loose woman--ask Rogojin there! He'll tell you. Will you go again now that she has insulted me, before your eyes, too;turn away from me and lead her away, arm-in-arm? May you be accursedtoo, for you were the only one I trusted among them all! Go away, Rogojin, I don't want you, " she continued, blind with fury, and forcingthe words out with dry lips and distorted features, evidently notbelieving a single word of her own tirade, but, at the same time, doingher utmost to prolong the moment of self-deception. 

The outburst was so terribly violent that the prince thought it wouldhave killed her. 

"There he is!" she shrieked again, pointing to the prince and addressingAglaya. "There he is! and if he does not approach me at once and take MEand throw you over, then have him for your own--I give him up to you! Idon't want him!"

Both she and Aglaya stood and waited as though in expectation, and bothlooked at the prince like madwomen. 

But he, perhaps, did not understand the full force of this challenge; infact, it is certain he did not. All he could see was the poor despairingface which, as he had said to Aglaya, "had pierced his heart for ever. "

He could bear it no longer, and with a look of entreaty, mingled withreproach, he addressed Aglaya, pointing to Nastasia the while:

"How can you?" he murmured; "she is so unhappy. "

But he had no time to say another word before. Aglaya's terrible lookbereft him of speech. In that look was embodied so dreadful a sufferingand so deadly a hatred, that he gave a cry and flew to her; but it wastoo late. 

She could not hold out long enough even to witness his movement in herdirection. She had hidden her face in her hands, cried once "Oh, myGod!" and rushed out of the room. Rogojin followed her to undo the boltsof the door and let her out into the street. 

The prince made a rush after her, but he, was caught and held back. Thedistorted, livid face of Nastasia gazed at him reproachfully, and herblue lips whispered:

"What? Would you go to her--to her?"

She fell senseless into his arms. 

He raised her, carried her into the room, placed her in an arm-chair, and stood over her, stupefied. On the table stood a tumbler of water. Rogojin, who now returned, took this and sprinkled a little in her face. She opened her eyes, but for a moment she understood nothing. 

Suddenly she looked around, shuddered, gave a loud cry, and threwherself in the prince's arms. 

"Mine, mine!" she cried. "Has the proud young lady gone? Ha, ha, ha!"she laughed hysterically. "And I had given him up to her! Why--why didI? Mad--mad! Get away, Rogojin! Ha, ha, ha!"

Rogojin stared intently at them; then he took his hat, and without aword, left the room. 

A few moments later, the prince was seated by Nastasia on the sofa, gazing into her eyes and stroking her face and hair, as he would alittle child's. He laughed when she laughed, and was ready to cry whenshe cried. He did not speak, but listened to her excited, disconnectedchatter, hardly understanding a word of it the while. No sooner didhe detect the slightest appearance of complaining, or weeping, orreproaching, than he would smile at her kindly, and begin stroking herhair and her cheeks, soothing and consoling her once more, as if shewere a child. 

IX. 

A FORTNIGHT had passed since the events recorded in the last chapter, and the position of the actors in our story had become so changed thatit is almost impossible for us to continue the tale without some fewexplanations. Yet we feel that we ought to limit ourselves to the simplerecord of facts, without much attempt at explanation, for a very patentreason: because we ourselves have the greatest possible difficulty inaccounting for the facts to be recorded. Such a statement on our partmay appear strange to the reader. How is anyone to tell a story which hecannot understand himself? In order to keep clear of a false position, we had perhaps better give an example of what we mean; and probably theintelligent reader will soon understand the difficulty. More especiallyare we inclined to take this course since the example will constitute adistinct march forward of our story, and will not hinder the progress ofthe events remaining to be recorded. 

During the next fortnight--that is, through the early part of July--thehistory of our hero was circulated in the form of strange, diverting, most unlikely-sounding stories, which passed from mouth to mouth, through the streets and villas adjoining those inhabited by Lebedeff, Ptitsin, Nastasia Philipovna and the Epanchins; in fact, prettywell through the whole town and its environs. All society--both theinhabitants of the place and those who came down of an evening for themusic--had got hold of one and the same story, in a thousand varietiesof detail--as to how a certain young prince had raised a terriblescandal in a most respectable household, had thrown over a daughter ofthe family, to whom he was engaged, and had been captured by a woman ofshady reputation whom he was determined to marry at once--breaking offall old ties for the satisfaction of his insane idea; and, in spite ofthe public indignation roused by his action, the marriage was to takeplace in Pavlofsk openly and publicly, and the prince had announced hisintention of going through with it with head erect and looking the wholeworld in the face. The story was so artfully adorned with scandalousdetails, and persons of so great eminence and importance wereapparently mixed up in it, while, at the same time, the evidence was socircumstantial, that it was no wonder the matter gave food for plenty ofcuriosity and gossip. 

According to the reports of the most talented gossip-mongers--those who, in every class of society, are always in haste to explain every eventto their neighbours--the young gentleman concerned was of good family--aprince--fairly rich--weak of intellect, but a democrat and a dabblerin the Nihilism of the period, as exposed by Mr. Turgenieff. He couldhardly talk Russian, but had fallen in love with one of the MissEpanchins, and his suit met with so much encouragement that he had beenreceived in the house as the recognized bridegroom-to-be of the younglady. But like the Frenchman of whom the story is told that he studiedfor holy orders, took all the oaths, was ordained priest, and nextmorning wrote to his bishop informing him that, as he did not believein God and considered it wrong to deceive the people and live upon theirpockets, he begged to surrender the orders conferred upon him the daybefore, and to inform his lordship that he was sending this letter tothe public press, --like this Frenchman, the prince played a false game. It was rumoured that he had purposely waited for the solemn occasion ofa large evening party at the house of his future bride, at which he wasintroduced to several eminent persons, in order publicly to make knownhis ideas and opinions, and thereby insult the "big-wigs, " and to throwover his bride as offensively as possible; and that, resisting theservants who were told off to turn him out of the house, he had seizedand thrown down a magnificent china vase. As a characteristic additionto the above, it was currently reported that the young prince reallyloved the lady to whom he was engaged, and had thrown her over out ofpurely Nihilistic motives, with the intention of giving himself thesatisfaction of marrying a fallen woman in the face of all the world, thereby publishing his opinion that there is no distinction betweenvirtuous and disreputable women, but that all women are alike, free; anda "fallen" woman, indeed, somewhat superior to a virtuous one. 

It was declared that he believed in no classes or anything else, excepting "the woman question. "

All this looked likely enough, and was accepted as fact by most of theinhabitants of the place, especially as it was borne out, more or less, by daily occurrences. 

Of course much was said that could not be determined absolutely. Forinstance, it was reported that the poor girl had so loved her futurehusband that she had followed him to the house of the other woman, theday after she had been thrown over; others said that he had insisted onher coming, himself, in order to shame and insult her by his taunts andNihilistic confessions when she reached the house. However allthese things might be, the public interest in the matter grewdaily, especially as it became clear that the scandalous wedding wasundoubtedly to take place. 

So that if our readers were to ask an explanation, not of the wildreports about the prince's Nihilistic opinions, but simply as to howsuch a marriage could possibly satisfy his real aspirations, or as tothe spiritual condition of our hero at this time, we confess that weshould have great difficulty in giving the required information. 

All we know is, that the marriage really was arranged, and that theprince had commissioned Lebedeff and Keller to look after all thenecessary business connected with it; that he had requested them tospare no expense; that Nastasia herself was hurrying on the wedding;that Keller was to be the prince's best man, at his own earnest request;and that Burdovsky was to give Nastasia away, to his great delight. Thewedding was to take place before the middle of July. 

But, besides the above, we are cognizant of certain other undoubtedfacts, which puzzle us a good deal because they seem flatly tocontradict the foregoing. 

We suspect, for instance, that having commissioned Lebedeff and theothers, as above, the prince immediately forgot all about masters ofceremonies and even the ceremony itself; and we feel quite certain thatin making these arrangements he did so in order that he might absolutelyescape all thought of the wedding, and even forget its approach if hecould, by detailing all business concerning it to others. 

What did he think of all this time, then? What did he wish for? There isno doubt that he was a perfectly free agent all through, and that asfar as Nastasia was concerned, there was no force of any kind broughtto bear on him. Nastasia wished for a speedy marriage, true!--but theprince agreed at once to her proposals; he agreed, in fact, so casuallythat anyone might suppose he was but acceding to the most simple andordinary suggestion. 

There are many strange circumstances such as this before us; but inour opinion they do but deepen the mystery, and do not in the smallestdegree help us to understand the case. 

However, let us take one more example. Thus, we know for a fact thatduring the whole of this fortnight the prince spent all his days andevenings with Nastasia; he walked with her, drove with her; he began tobe restless whenever he passed an hour without seeing her--in fact, to all appearances, he sincerely loved her. He would listen to her forhours at a time with a quiet smile on his face, scarcely saying a wordhimself. And yet we know, equally certainly, that during this period heseveral times set off, suddenly, to the Epanchins', not concealingthe fact from Nastasia Philipovna, and driving the latter to absolutedespair. We know also that he was not received at the Epanchins' so longas they remained at Pavlofsk, and that he was not allowed an interviewwith Aglaya;--but next day he would set off once more on the sameerrand, apparently quite oblivious of the fact of yesterday's visithaving been a failure, --and, of course, meeting with another refusal. We know, too, that exactly an hour after Aglaya had fled from NastasiaPhilipovna's house on that fateful evening, the prince was at theEpanchins', --and that his appearance there had been the cause of thegreatest consternation and dismay; for Aglaya had not been home, and thefamily only discovered then, for the first time, that the two of themhad been to Nastasia's house together. 

It was said that Elizabetha Prokofievna and her daughters had there andthen denounced the prince in the strongest terms, and had refusedany further acquaintance and friendship with him; their rage anddenunciations being redoubled when Varia Ardalionovna suddenly arrivedand stated that Aglaya had been at her house in a terrible state of mindfor the last hour, and that she refused to come home. 

This last item of news, which disturbed Lizabetha Prokofievna more thananything else, was perfectly true. On leaving Nastasia's, Aglaya hadfelt that she would rather die than face her people, and had thereforegone straight to Nina Alexandrovna's. On receiving the news, Lizabethaand her daughters and the general all rushed off to Aglaya, followedby Prince Lef Nicolaievitch--undeterred by his recent dismissal; butthrough Varia he was refused a sight of Aglaya here also. The end of theepisode was that when Aglaya saw her mother and sisters crying over herand not uttering a word of reproach, she had flung herself into theirarms and gone straight home with them. 

It was said that Gania managed to make a fool of himself even on thisoccasion; for, finding himself alone with Aglaya for a minute or twowhen Varia had gone to the Epanchins', he had thought it a fittingopportunity to make a declaration of his love, and on hearing thisAglaya, in spite of her state of mind at the time, had suddenly burstout laughing, and had put a strange question to him. She asked himwhether he would consent to hold his finger to a lighted candle in proofof his devotion! Gania--it was said--looked so comically bewildered thatAglaya had almost laughed herself into hysterics, and had rushed out ofthe room and upstairs, --where her parents had found her. 

Hippolyte told the prince this last story, sending for him on purpose. When Muishkin heard about the candle and Gania's finger he had laughedso that he had quite astonished Hippolyte, --and then shuddered and burstinto tears. The prince's condition during those days was strange andperturbed. Hippolyte plainly declared that he thought he was out of hismind;--this, however, was hardly to be relied upon. 

Offering all these facts to our readers and refusing to explain them, we do not for a moment desire to justify our hero's conduct. On thecontrary, we are quite prepared to feel our share of the indignationwhich his behaviour aroused in the hearts of his friends. Even VeraLebedeff was angry with him for a while; so was Colia; so was Keller, until he was selected for best man; so was Lebedeff himself, --who beganto intrigue against him out of pure irritation;--but of this anon. Infact we are in full accord with certain forcible words spoken to theprince by Evgenie Pavlovitch, quite unceremoniously, during the courseof a friendly conversation, six or seven days after the events atNastasia Philipovna's house. 

We may remark here that not only the Epanchins themselves, but all whohad anything to do with them, thought it right to break with the princein consequence of his conduct. Prince S. Even went so far as to turnaway and cut him dead in the street. But Evgenie Pavlovitch was notafraid to compromise himself by paying the prince a visit, and did so, in spite of the fact that he had recommenced to visit at the Epanchins', where he was received with redoubled hospitality and kindness after thetemporary estrangement. 

Evgenie called upon the prince the day after that on which the Epanchinsleft Pavlofsk. He knew of all the current rumours, --in fact, he hadprobably contributed to them himself. The prince was delighted to seehim, and immediately began to speak of the Epanchins;--which simple andstraightforward opening quite took Evgenie's fancy, so that he melted atonce, and plunged in medias res without ceremony. 

The prince did not know, up to this, that the Epanchins had left theplace. He grew very pale on hearing the news; but a moment later henodded his head, and said thoughtfully:

"I knew it was bound to be so. " Then he added quickly:

"Where have they gone to?"

Evgenie meanwhile observed him attentively, and the rapidity of thequestions, their simplicity, the prince's candour, and at the sametime, his evident perplexity and mental agitation, surprised himconsiderably. However, he told Muishkin all he could, kindly andin detail. The prince hardly knew anything, for this was the firstinformant from the household whom he had met since the estrangement. 

Evgenie reported that Aglaya had been really ill, and that for twonights she had not slept at all, owing to high fever; that now she wasbetter and out of serious danger, but still in a nervous, hystericalstate. 

"It's a good thing that there is peace in the house, at all events, " hecontinued. "They never utter a hint about the past, not only in Aglaya'spresence, but even among themselves. The old people are talking of atrip abroad in the autumn, immediately after Adelaida's wedding; Aglayareceived the news in silence. "

Evgenie himself was very likely going abroad also; so were Prince S. And his wife, if affairs allowed of it; the general was to stay at home. They were all at their estate of Colmina now, about twenty miles or sofrom St. Petersburg. Princess Bielokonski had not returned to Moscowyet, and was apparently staying on for reasons of her own. LizabethaProkofievna had insisted that it was quite impossible to remain inPavlofsk after what had happened. Evgenie had told her of all therumours current in town about the affair; so that there could be no talkof their going to their house on the Yelagin as yet. 

"And in point of fact, prince, " added Evgenie Pavlovitch, "you mustallow that they could hardly have stayed here, considering that theyknew of all that went on at your place, and in the face of your dailyvisits to their house, visits which you insisted upon making in spite oftheir refusal to see you. "

"Yes--yes, quite so; you are quite right. I wished to see AglayaIvanovna, you know!" said the prince, nodding his head. 

"Oh, my dear fellow, " cried Evgenie, warmly, with real sorrow in hisvoice, "how could you permit all that to come about as it has? Ofcourse, of course, I know it was all so unexpected. I admit that you, only naturally, lost your head, and--and could not stop the foolishgirl; that was not in your power. I quite see so much; but you reallyshould have understood how seriously she cared for you. She could notbear to share you with another; and you could bring yourself to throwaway and shatter such a treasure! Oh, prince, prince!"

"Yes, yes, you are quite right again, " said the poor prince, in anguishof mind. "I was wrong, I know. But it was only Aglaya who looked onNastasia Philipovna so; no one else did, you know. "

"But that's just the worst of it all, don't you see, that there wasabsolutely nothing serious about the matter in reality!" cried Evgenie, beside himself: "Excuse me, prince, but I have thought over all this; Ihave thought a great deal over it; I know all that had happened before;I know all that took place six months since; and I know there wasNOTHING serious about the matter, it was but fancy, smoke, fantasy, distorted by agitation, and only the alarmed jealousy of an absolutelyinexperienced girl could possibly have mistaken it for serious reality. "

Here Evgenie Pavlovitch quite let himself go, and gave the reins to hisindignation. 

Clearly and reasonably, and with great psychological insight, he drew apicture of the prince's past relations with Nastasia Philipovna. Evgenie Pavlovitch always had a ready tongue, but on this occasion hiseloquence, surprised himself. "From the very beginning, " he said, "youbegan with a lie; what began with a lie was bound to end with a lie;such is the law of nature. I do not agree, in fact I am angry, when Ihear you called an idiot; you are far too intelligent to deserve suchan epithet; but you are so far STRANGE as to be unlike others; that youmust allow, yourself. Now, I have come to the conclusion that the basisof all that has happened, has been first of all your innate inexperience(remark the expression 'innate, ' prince). Then follows your unheard-ofsimplicity of heart; then comes your absolute want of sense ofproportion (to this want you have several times confessed); and lastly, a mass, an accumulation, of intellectual convictions which you, in yourunexampled honesty of soul, accept unquestionably as also innate andnatural and true. Admit, prince, that in your relations with NastasiaPhilipovna there has existed, from the very first, something democratic, and the fascination, so to speak, of the 'woman question'? I know allabout that scandalous scene at Nastasia Philipovna's house when Rogojinbrought the money, six months ago. I'll show you yourself as in alooking-glass, if you like. I know exactly all that went on, in everydetail, and why things have turned out as they have. You thirsted, whilein Switzerland, for your home-country, for Russia; you read, doubtless, many books about Russia, excellent books, I dare say, but hurtful toYOU; and you arrived here; as it were, on fire with the longing to beof service. Then, on the very day of your arrival, they tell you a sadstory of an ill-used woman; they tell YOU, a knight, pure and withoutreproach, this tale of a poor woman! The same day you actually SEEher; you are attracted by her beauty, her fantastic, almost demoniacal, beauty--(I admit her beauty, of course). 

"Add to all this your nervous nature, your epilepsy, and your suddenarrival in a strange town--the day of meetings and of exciting scenes, the day of unexpected acquaintanceships, the day of sudden actions, the day of meeting with the three lovely Epanchin girls, and amongthem Aglaya--add your fatigue, your excitement; add Nastasia' s eveningparty, and the tone of that party, and--what were you to expect ofyourself at such a moment as that?"

"Yes, yes, yes!" said the prince, once more, nodding his head, andblushing slightly. "Yes, it was so, or nearly so--I know it. Andbesides, you see, I had not slept the night before, in the train, or thenight before that, either, and I was very tired. "

"Of course, of course, quite so; that's what I am driving at!"continued Evgenie, excitedly. "It is as clear as possible, and mostcomprehensible, that you, in your enthusiasm, should plunge headlonginto the first chance that came of publicly airing your great idea thatyou, a prince, and a pure-living man, did not consider a woman disgracedif the sin were not her own, but that of a disgusting social libertine!Oh, heavens! it's comprehensible enough, my dear prince, but that is notthe question, unfortunately! The question is, was there any realityand truth in your feelings? Was it nature, or nothing but intellectualenthusiasm? What do you think yourself? We are told, of course, that afar worse woman was FORGIVEN, but we don't find that she was told thatshe had done well, or that she was worthy of honour and respect! Did notyour common-sense show you what was the real state of the case, a fewmonths later? The question is now, not whether she is an innocent woman(I do not insist one way or the other--I do not wish to); but can herwhole career justify such intolerable pride, such insolent, rapaciousegotism as she has shown? Forgive me, I am too violent, perhaps, but--"

"Yes--I dare say it is all as you say; I dare say you are quite right, "muttered the prince once more. "She is very sensitive and easily putout, of course; but still, she. . . "

"She is worthy of sympathy? Is that what you wished to say, my goodfellow? But then, for the mere sake of vindicating her worthiness ofsympathy, you should not have insulted and offended a noble and generousgirl in her presence! This is a terrible exaggeration of sympathy! Howcan you love a girl, and yet so humiliate her as to throw her over forthe sake of another woman, before the very eyes of that other woman, when you have already made her a formal proposal of marriage? And youDID propose to her, you know; you did so before her parents and sisters. Can you be an honest man, prince, if you act so? I ask you! And did younot deceive that beautiful girl when you assured her of your love?"

"Yes, you are quite right. Oh! I feel that I am very guilty!" saidMuishkin, in deepest distress. 

"But as if that is enough!" cried Evgenie, indignantly. "As if it isenough simply to say: 'I know I am very guilty!' You are to blame, andyet you persevere in evil-doing. Where was your heart, I should like toknow, your CHRISTIAN HEART, all that time? Did she look as though shewere suffering less, at that moment? You saw her face--was she sufferingless than the other woman? How could you see her suffering and allow itto continue? How could you?"

"But I did not allow it, " murmured the wretched prince. 

"How--what do you mean you didn't allow?"

"Upon my word, I didn't! To this moment I don't know how it allhappened. I--I ran after Aglaya Ivanovna, but Nastasia Philipovna felldown in a faint; and since that day they won't let me see Aglaya--that'sall I know. "

"It's all the same; you ought to have run after Aglaya though the otherwas fainting. "

"Yes, yes, I ought--but I couldn't! She would have died--she wouldhave killed herself. You don't know her; and I should have told Aglayaeverything afterwards--but I see, Evgenie Pavlovitch, you don't knowall. Tell me now, why am I not allowed to see Aglaya? I should havecleared it all up, you know. Neither of them kept to the real point, yousee. I could never explain what I mean to you, but I think I could toAglaya. Oh! my God, my God! You spoke just now of Aglaya's face at themoment when she ran away. Oh, my God! I remember it! Come along, come along--quick!" He pulled at Evgenie's coat-sleeve nervously andexcitedly, and rose from his chair. 

"Where to?"

"Come to Aglaya--quick, quick!"

"But I told you she is not at Pavlofsk. And what would be the use if shewere?"

"Oh, she'll understand, she'll understand!" cried the prince, claspinghis hands. "She would understand that all this is not the point--not abit the real point--it is quite foreign to the real question. "

"How can it be foreign? You ARE going to be married, are you not? Verywell, then you are persisting in your course. ARE you going to marry heror not?"

"Yes, I shall marry her--yes. "

"Then why is it 'not the point'?"

"Oh, no, it is not the point, not a bit. It makes no difference, mymarrying her--it means nothing. "

"How 'means nothing'? You are talking nonsense, my friend. You aremarrying the woman you love in order to secure her happiness, and Aglayasees and knows it. How can you say that it's 'not the point'?"

"Her happiness? Oh, no! I am only marrying her--well, because she wishedit. It means nothing--it's all the same. She would certainly havedied. I see now that that marriage with Rogojin was an insane idea. Iunderstand all now that I did not understand before; and, do you know, when those two stood opposite to one another, I could not bear NastasiaPhilipovna's face! You must know, Evgenie Pavlovitch, I have never toldanyone before--not even Aglaya--that I cannot bear Nastasia Philipovna'sface. " (He lowered his voice mysteriously as he said this. ) "Youdescribed that evening at Nastasia Philipovna's (six months since) veryaccurately just now; but there is one thing which you did not mention, and of which you took no account, because you do not know. I mean herFACE--I looked at her face, you see. Even in the morning when I saw herportrait, I felt that I could not BEAR to look at it. Now, there's VeraLebedeff, for instance, her eyes are quite different, you know. I'mAFRAID of her face!" he added, with real alarm. 

"You are AFRAID of it?"

"Yes--she's mad!" he whispered, growing pale. 

"Do you know this for certain?" asked Evgenie, with the greatestcuriosity. 

"Yes, for certain--quite for certain, now! I have discovered itABSOLUTELY for certain, these last few days. "

"What are you doing, then?" cried Evgenie, in horror. "You must bemarrying her solely out of FEAR, then! I can't make head or tail of it, prince. Perhaps you don't even love her?"

"Oh, no; I love her with all my soul. Why, she is a child! She's a childnow--a real child. Oh! you know nothing about it at all, I see. "

"And are you assured, at the same time, that you love Aglaya too?"

"Yes--yes--oh; yes!"

"How so? Do you want to make out that you love them BOTH?"

"Yes--yes--both! I do!"

"Excuse me, prince, but think what you are saying! Recollect yourself!"

"Without Aglaya--I--I MUST see Aglaya!--I shall die in my sleep verysoon--I thought I was dying in my sleep last night. Oh! if Aglaya onlyknew all--I mean really, REALLY all! Because she must know ALL--that'sthe first condition towards understanding. Why cannot we ever know allabout another, especially when that other has been guilty? But Idon't know what I'm talking about--I'm so confused. You pained me sodreadfully. Surely--surely Aglaya has not the same expression now asshe had at the moment when she ran away? Oh, yes! I am guilty and Iknow it--I know it! Probably I am in fault all round--I don't quite knowhow--but I am in fault, no doubt. There is something else, but I cannotexplain it to you, Evgenie Pavlovitch. I have no words; but Aglaya willunderstand. I have always believed Aglaya will understand--I am assuredshe will. "

"No, prince, she will not. Aglaya loved like a woman, like a humanbeing, not like an abstract spirit. Do you know what, my poor prince?The most probable explanation of the matter is that you never lovedeither the one or the other in reality. "

"I don't know--perhaps you are right in much that you have said, EvgeniePavlovitch. You are very wise, Evgenie Pavlovitch--oh! how my head isbeginning to ache again! Come to her, quick--for God's sake, come!"

"But I tell you she is not in Pavlofsk! She's in Colmina. "

"Oh, come to Colmina, then! Come--let us go at once!"

"No--no, impossible!" said Evgenie, rising. 

"Look here--I'll write a letter--take a letter for me!"

"No--no, prince; you must forgive me, but I can't undertake any suchcommissions! I really can't. "

And so they parted. 

Evgenie Pavlovitch left the house with strange convictions. He, too, felt that the prince must be out of his mind. 

"And what did he mean by that FACE--a face which he so fears, and yetso loves? And meanwhile he really may die, as he says, without seeingAglaya, and she will never know how devotedly he loves her! Ha, ha, ha!How does the fellow manage to love two of them? Two different kinds oflove, I suppose! This is very interesting--poor idiot! What on earthwill become of him now?"

X. 

THE prince did not die before his wedding--either by day or night, ashe had foretold that he might. Very probably he passed disturbed nights, and was afflicted with bad dreams; but, during the daytime, among hisfellow-men, he seemed as kind as ever, and even contented; only a littlethoughtful when alone. 

The wedding was hurried on. The day was fixed for exactly a week afterEvgenie's visit to the prince. In the face of such haste as this, even the prince's best friends (if he had had any) would have felt thehopelessness of any attempt to save "the poor madman. " Rumour said thatin the visit of Evgenie Pavlovitch was to be discerned the influence ofLizabetha Prokofievna and her husband. . . But if those good souls, inthe boundless kindness of their hearts, were desirous of saving theeccentric young fellow from ruin, they were unable to take any strongermeasures to attain that end. Neither their position, nor their privateinclination, perhaps (and only naturally), would allow them to use anymore pronounced means. 

We have observed before that even some of the prince's nearestneighbours had begun to oppose him. Vera Lebedeff's passive disagreementwas limited to the shedding of a few solitary tears; to more frequentsitting alone at home, and to a diminished frequency in her visits tothe prince's apartments. 

Colia was occupied with his father at this time. The old man died duringa second stroke, which took place just eight days after the first. Theprince showed great sympathy in the grief of the family, and during thefirst days of their mourning he was at the house a great deal with NinaAlexandrovna. He went to the funeral, and it was observable that thepublic assembled in church greeted his arrival and departure withwhisperings, and watched him closely. 

The same thing happened in the park and in the street, wherever he went. He was pointed out when he drove by, and he often overheard the name ofNastasia Philipovna coupled with his own as he passed. People lookedout for her at the funeral, too, but she was not there; and anotherconspicuous absentee was the captain's widow, whom Lebedeff hadprevented from coming. 

The funeral service produced a great effect on the prince. He whisperedto Lebedeff that this was the first time he had ever heard a Russianfuneral service since he was a little boy. Observing that he was lookingabout him uneasily, Lebedeff asked him whom he was seeking. 

"Nothing. I only thought I--"

"Is it Rogojin?"

"Why--is he here?"

"Yes, he's in church. "

"I thought I caught sight of his eyes!" muttered the prince, inconfusion. "But what of it!--Why is he here? Was he asked?"

"Oh, dear, no! Why, they don't even know him! Anyone can come in, youknow. Why do you look so amazed? I often meet him; I've seen him atleast four times, here at Pavlofsk, within the last week. "

"I haven't seen him once--since that day!" the prince murmured. 

As Nastasia Philipovna had not said a word about having met Rogojinsince "that day, " the prince concluded that the latter had his ownreasons for wishing to keep out of sight. All the day of the funeral ourhero, was in a deeply thoughtful state, while Nastasia Philipovna wasparticularly merry, both in the daytime and in the evening. 

Colia had made it up with the prince before his father's death, and itwas he who urged him to make use of Keller and Burdovsky, promisingto answer himself for the former's behaviour. Nina Alexandrovna andLebedeff tried to persuade him to have the wedding in St. Petersburg, instead of in the public fashion contemplated, down here at Pavlofskin the height of the season. But the prince only said that NastasiaPhilipovna desired to have it so, though he saw well enough whatprompted their arguments. 

The next day Keller came to visit the prince. He was in a high state ofdelight with the post of honour assigned to him at the wedding. 

Before entering he stopped on the threshold, raised his hand as ifmaking a solemn vow, and cried:

"I won't drink!"

Then he went up to the prince, seized both his hands, shook them warmly, and declared that he had at first felt hostile towards the project ofthis marriage, and had openly said so in the billiard-rooms, but thatthe reason simply was that, with the impatience of a friend, he hadhoped to see the prince marry at least a Princess de Rohan or de Chabot;but that now he saw that the prince's way of thinking was ten times morenoble than that of "all the rest put together. " For he desired neitherpomp nor wealth nor honour, but only the truth! The sympathies ofexalted personages were well known, and the prince was too highlyplaced by his education, and so on, not to be in some sense an exaltedpersonage!

"But all the common herd judge 'differently; in the town, atthe meetings, in the villas, at the band, in the inns and thebilliard-rooms, the coming event has only to be mentioned and there areshouts and cries from everybody. I have even heard talk of getting up a'charivari' under the windows on the wedding-night. So if 'you have needof the pistol' of an honest man, prince, I am ready to fire half a dozenshots even before you rise from your nuptial couch!"

Keller also advised, in anticipation of the crowd making a rush afterthe ceremony, that a fire-hose should be placed at the entrance to thehouse; but Lebedeff was opposed to this measure, which he said mightresult in the place being pulled down. 

"I assure you, prince, that Lebedeff is intriguing against you. He wantsto put you under control. Imagine that! To take 'from you the use ofyour free-will and your money--that' is to say, the two things thatdistinguish us from the animals! I have heard it said positively. It isthe sober truth. "

The prince recollected that somebody had told him something of the kindbefore, and he had, of course, scoffed at it. He only laughed now, andforgot the hint at once. 

Lebedeff really had been busy for some little while; but, as usual, hisplans had become too complex to succeed, through sheer excess of ardour. When he came to the prince--the very day before the wedding--to confess(for he always confessed to the persons against whom he intrigued, especially when the plan failed), he informed our hero that he himselfwas a born Talleyrand, but for some unknown reason had become simpleLebedeff. He then proceeded to explain his whole game to the prince, interesting the latter exceedingly. 

According to Lebedeff's account, he had first tried what he could dowith General Epanchin. The latter informed him that he wished well tothe unfortunate young man, and would gladly do what he could to "savehim, " but that he did not think it would be seemly for him to interferein this matter. Lizabetha Prokofievna would neither hear nor see him. Prince S. And Evgenie Pavlovitch only shrugged their shoulders, andimplied that it was no business of theirs. However, Lebedeff had notlost heart, and went off to a clever lawyer, --a worthy and respectableman, whom he knew well. This old gentleman informed him that the thingwas perfectly feasible if he could get hold of competent witnesses asto Muishkin's mental incapacity. Then, with the assistance of a fewinfluential persons, he would soon see the matter arranged. 

Lebedeff immediately procured the services of an old doctor, and carriedthe latter away to Pavlofsk to see the prince, by way of viewing theground, as it were, and to give him (Lebedeff) counsel as to whetherthe thing was to be done or not. The visit was not to be official, butmerely friendly. 

Muishkin remembered the doctor's visit quite well. He remembered thatLebedeff had said that he looked ill, and had better see a doctor; andalthough the prince scouted the idea, Lebedeff had turned up almostimmediately with his old friend, explaining that they had just met atthe bedside of Hippolyte, who was very ill, and that the doctor hadsomething to tell the prince about the sick man. 

The prince had, of course, at once received him, and had plunged intoa conversation about Hippolyte. He had given the doctor an account ofHippolyte's attempted suicide; and had proceeded thereafter to talk ofhis own malady, --of Switzerland, of Schneider, and so on; and sodeeply was the old man interested by the prince's conversation and hisdescription of Schneider's system, that he sat on for two hours. 

Muishkin gave him excellent cigars to smoke, and Lebedeff, for his part, regaled him with liqueurs, brought in by Vera, to whom the doctor--amarried man and the father of a family--addressed such compliments thatshe was filled with indignation. They parted friends, and, after leavingthe prince, the doctor said to Lebedeff: "If all such people were putunder restraint, there would be no one left for keepers. " Lebedeff then, in tragic tones, told of the approaching marriage, whereupon the othernodded his head and replied that, after all, marriages like that werenot so rare; that he had heard that the lady was very fascinating and ofextraordinary beauty, which was enough to explain the infatuation of awealthy man; that, further, thanks to the liberality of Totski and ofRogojin, she possessed--so he had heard--not only money, but pearls, diamonds, shawls, and furniture, and consequently she could not beconsidered a bad match. In brief, it seemed to the doctor that theprince's choice, far from being a sign of foolishness, denoted, on thecontrary, a shrewd, calculating, and practical mind. Lebedeff had beenmuch struck by this point of view, and he terminated his confessionby assuring the prince that he was ready, if need be, to shed his verylife's blood for him. 

Hippolyte, too, was a source of some distraction to the prince at thistime; he would send for him at any and every hour of the day. Theylived, --Hippolyte and his mother and the children, --in a small house notfar off, and the little ones were happy, if only because they were ableto escape from the invalid into the garden. The prince had enough to doin keeping the peace between the irritable Hippolyte and his mother, andeventually the former became so malicious and sarcastic on the subjectof the approaching wedding, that Muishkin took offence at last, andrefused to continue his visits. 

A couple of days later, however, Hippolyte's mother came with tears inher eyes, and begged the prince to come back, "or HE would eat her upbodily. " She added that Hippolyte had a great secret to disclose. Ofcourse the prince went. There was no secret, however, unless we reckoncertain pantings and agitated glances around (probably all put on) asthe invalid begged his visitor to "beware of Rogojin. "

"He is the sort of man, " he continued, "who won't give up his object, you know; he is not like you and me, prince--he belongs to quite adifferent order of beings. If he sets his heart on a thing he won't beafraid of anything--" and so on. 

Hippolyte was very ill, and looked as though he could not long survive. He was tearful at first, but grew more and more sarcastic and maliciousas the interview proceeded. 

The prince questioned him in detail as to his hints about Rogojin. Hewas anxious to seize upon some facts which might confirm Hippolyte'svague warnings; but there were none; only Hippolyte's own privateimpressions and feelings. 

However, the invalid--to his immense satisfaction--ended by seriouslyalarming the prince. 

At first Muishkin had not cared to make any reply to his sundryquestions, and only smiled in response to Hippolyte's advice to "run forhis life--abroad, if necessary. There are Russian priests everywhere, and one can get married all over the world. "

But it was Hippolyte's last idea which upset him. 

"What I am really alarmed about, though, " he said, "is Aglaya Ivanovna. Rogojin knows how you love her. Love for love. You took NastasiaPhilipovna from him. He will murder Aglaya Ivanovna; for though she isnot yours, of course, now, still such an act would pain you, --wouldn'tit?"

He had attained his end. The prince left the house beside himself withterror. 

These warnings about Rogojin were expressed on the day before thewedding. That evening the prince saw Nastasia Philipovna for the lasttime before they were to meet at the altar; but Nastasia was not in aposition to give him any comfort or consolation. On the contrary, sheonly added to his mental perturbation as the evening went on. Up to thistime she had invariably done her best to cheer him--she was afraid ofhis looking melancholy; she would try singing to him, and telling himevery sort of funny story or reminiscence that she could recall. Theprince nearly always pretended to be amused, whether he were soactually or no; but often enough he laughed sincerely, delighted by thebrilliancy of her wit when she was carried away by her narrative, as shevery often was. Nastasia would be wild with joy to see the impressionshe had made, and to hear his laugh of real amusement; and she wouldremain the whole evening in a state of pride and happiness. But thisevening her melancholy and thoughtfulness grew with every hour. 

The prince had told Evgenie Pavlovitch with perfect sincerity that heloved Nastasia Philipovna with all his soul. In his love for her therewas the sort of tenderness one feels for a sick, unhappy child whichcannot be left alone. He never spoke of his feelings for Nastasiato anyone, not even to herself. When they were together they neverdiscussed their "feelings, " and there was nothing in their cheerful, animated conversation which an outsider could not have heard. DariaAlexeyevna, with whom Nastasia was staying, told afterwards how she hadbeen filled with joy and delight only to look at them, all this time. 

Thanks to the manner in which he regarded Nastasia's mental and moralcondition, the prince was to some extent freed from other perplexities. She was now quite different from the woman he had known three monthsbefore. He was not astonished, for instance, to see her now so impatientto marry him--she who formerly had wept with rage and hurled curses andreproaches at him if he mentioned marriage! "It shows that she no longerfears, as she did then, that she would make me unhappy by marrying me, "he thought. And he felt sure that so sudden a change could not be anatural one. This rapid growth of self-confidence could not be due onlyto her hatred for Aglaya. To suppose that would be to suspect the depthof her feelings. Nor could it arise from dread of the fate that awaitedher if she married Rogojin. These causes, indeed, as well as others, might have played a part in it, but the true reason, Muishkin decided, was the one he had long suspected--that the poor sick soul had come tothe end of its forces. Yet this was an explanation that did not procurehim any peace of mind. At times he seemed to be making violent effortsto think of nothing, and one would have said that he looked on hismarriage as an unimportant formality, and on his future happiness as athing not worth considering. As to conversations such as the one heldwith Evgenie Pavlovitch, he avoided them as far as possible, feelingthat there were certain objections to which he could make no answer. 

The prince had observed that Nastasia knew well enough what Aglaya wasto him. He never spoke of it, but he had seen her face when she hadcaught him starting off for the Epanchins' house on several occasions. When the Epanchins left Pavlofsk, she had beamed with radiance andhappiness. Unsuspicious and unobservant as he was, he had feared at thattime that Nastasia might have some scheme in her mind for a scene orscandal which would drive Aglaya out of Pavlofsk. She had encouragedthe rumours and excitement among the inhabitants of the place as to hermarriage with the prince, in order to annoy her rival; and, findingit difficult to meet the Epanchins anywhere, she had, on one occasion, taken him for a drive past their house. He did not observe what washappening until they were almost passing the windows, when it was toolate to do anything. He said nothing, but for two days afterwards he wasill. 

Nastasia did not try that particular experiment again. A few days beforethat fixed for the wedding, she grew grave and thoughtful. She alwaysended by getting the better of her melancholy, and becoming merry andcheerful again, but not quite so unaffectedly happy as she had been somedays earlier. 

The prince redoubled his attentive study of her symptoms. It was a mostcurious circumstance, in his opinion, that she never spoke of Rogojin. But once, about five days before the wedding, when the prince was athome, a messenger arrived begging him to come at once, as NastasiaPhilipovna was very ill. 

He had found her in a condition approaching to absolute madness. Shescreamed, and trembled, and cried out that Rogojin was hiding out therein the garden--that she had seen him herself--and that he would murderher in the night--that he would cut her throat. She was terriblyagitated all day. But it so happened that the prince called atHippolyte's house later on, and heard from his mother that she had beenin town all day, and had there received a visit from Rogojin, who hadmade inquiries about Pavlofsk. On inquiry, it turned out that Rogojinvisited the old lady in town at almost the same moment when Nastasiadeclared that she had seen him in the garden; so that the whole thingturned out to be an illusion on her part. Nastasia immediately wentacross to Hippolyte's to inquire more accurately, and returned immenselyrelieved and comforted. 

On the day before the wedding, the prince left Nastasia in a state ofgreat animation. Her wedding-dress and all sorts of finery had justarrived from town. Muishkin had not imagined that she would be soexcited over it, but he praised everything, and his praise rendered herdoubly happy. 

But Nastasia could not hide the cause of her intense interest in herwedding splendour. She had heard of the indignation in the town, andknew that some of the populace was getting up a sort of charivari withmusic, that verses had been composed for the occasion, and that therest of Pavlofsk society more or less encouraged these preparations. So, since attempts were being made to humiliate her, she wanted to hold herhead even higher than usual, and to overwhelm them all with the beautyand taste of her toilette. "Let them shout and whistle, if they dare!"Her eyes flashed at the thought. But, underneath this, she had anothermotive, of which she did not speak. She thought that possibly Aglaya, or at any rate someone sent by her, would be present incognito atthe ceremony, or in the crowd, and she wished to be prepared for thiseventuality. 

The prince left her at eleven, full of these thoughts, and went home. But it was not twelve o'clock when a messenger came to say that Nastasiawas very bad, and he must come at once. 

On hurrying back he found his bride locked up in her own room and couldhear her hysterical cries and sobs. It was some time before she could bemade to hear that the prince had come, and then she opened the door onlyjust sufficiently to let him in, and immediately locked it behind him. She then fell on her knees at his feet. (So at least Dana Alexeyevnareported. )

"What am I doing? What am I doing to you?" she sobbed convulsively, embracing his knees. 

The prince was a whole hour soothing and comforting her, and left her, at length, pacified and composed. He sent another messenger during thenight to inquire after her, and two more next morning. The lastbrought back a message that Nastasia was surrounded by a whole army ofdressmakers and maids, and was as happy and as busy as such a beautyshould be on her wedding morning, and that there was not a vestige ofyesterday's agitation remaining. The message concluded with thenews that at the moment of the bearer's departure there was a greatconfabulation in progress as to which diamonds were to be worn, and how. 

This message entirely calmed the prince's mind. 

The following report of the proceedings on the wedding day may bedepended upon, as coming from eye-witnesses. 

The wedding was fixed for eight o'clock in the evening. NastasiaPhilipovna was ready at seven. From six o'clock groups of people beganto gather at Nastasia's house, at the prince's, and at the church door, but more especially at the former place. The church began to fill atseven. 

Colia and Vera Lebedeff were very anxious on the prince's account, butthey were so busy over the arrangements for receiving the guests afterthe wedding, that they had not much time for the indulgence of personalfeelings. 

There were to be very few guests besides the best men and so on; onlyDana Alexeyevna, the Ptitsins, Gania, and the doctor. When the princeasked Lebedeff why he had invited the doctor, who was almost a stranger, Lebedeff replied:

"Why, he wears an 'order, ' and it looks so well!"

This idea amused the prince. 

Keller and Burdovsky looked wonderfully correct in their dress-coats andwhite kid gloves, although Keller caused the bridegroom some alarm byhis undisguisedly hostile glances at the gathering crowd of sight-seersoutside. 

At about half-past seven the prince started for the church in hiscarriage. 

We may remark here that he seemed anxious not to omit a single one ofthe recognized customs and traditions observed at weddings. He wishedall to be done as openly as possible, and "in due order. "

Arrived at the church, Muishkin, under Keller's guidance, passedthrough the crowd of spectators, amid continuous whispering and excitedexclamations. The prince stayed near the altar, while Keller made offonce more to fetch the bride. 

On reaching the gate of Daria Alexeyevna's house, Keller found a fardenser crowd than he had encountered at the prince's. The remarks andexclamations of the spectators here were of so irritating a nature thatKeller was very near making them a speech on the impropriety of theirconduct, but was luckily caught by Burdovsky, in the act of turning toaddress them, and hurried indoors. 

Nastasia Philipovna was ready. She rose from her seat, looked into theglass and remarked, as Keller told the tale afterwards, that she was "aspale as a corpse. " She then bent her head reverently, before the ikon inthe corner, and left the room. 

A torrent of voices greeted her appearance at the front door. The crowdwhistled, clapped its hands, and laughed and shouted; but in a moment ortwo isolated voices were distinguishable. 

"What a beauty!" cried one. 

"Well, she isn't the first in the world, nor the last, " said another. 

"Marriage covers everything, " observed a third. 

"I defy you to find another beauty like that, " said a fourth. 

"She's a real princess! I'd sell my soul for such a princess as that!"

Nastasia came out of the house looking as white as any handkerchief; buther large dark eyes shone upon the vulgar crowd like blazing coals. The spectators' cries were redoubled, and became more exultant andtriumphant every moment. The door of the carriage was open, and Kellerhad given his hand to the bride to help her in, when suddenly witha loud cry she rushed from him, straight into the surging crowd. Herfriends about her were stupefied with amazement; the crowd parted as sherushed through it, and suddenly, at a distance of five or six yardsfrom the carriage, appeared Rogojin. It was his look that had caught hereyes. 

Nastasia rushed to him like a madwoman, and seized both his hands. 

"Save me!" she cried. "Take me away, anywhere you like, quick!"

Rogojin seized her in his arms and almost carried her to the carriage. Then, in a flash, he tore a hundred-rouble note out of his pocket andheld it to the coachman. 

"To the station, quick! If you catch the train you shall have another. Quick!"

He leaped into the carriage after Nastasia and banged the door. Thecoachman did not hesitate a moment; he whipped up the horses, and theywere oft. 

"One more second and I should have stopped him, " said Keller, afterwards. In fact, he and Burdovsky jumped into another carriage andset off in pursuit; but it struck them as they drove along that it wasnot much use trying to bring Nastasia back by force. 

"Besides, " said Burdovsky, "the prince would not like it, would he?" Sothey gave up the pursuit. 

Rogojin and Nastasia Philipovna reached the station just in time for thetrain. As he jumped out of the carriage and was almost on the pointof entering the train, Rogojin accosted a young girl standing on theplatform and wearing an old-fashioned, but respectable-looking, blackcloak and a silk handkerchief over her head. 

"Take fifty roubles for your cloak?" he shouted, holding the moneyout to the girl. Before the astonished young woman could collect herscattered senses, he pushed the money into her hand, seized the mantle, and threw it and the handkerchief over Nastasia's head and shoulders. The latter's wedding-array would have attracted too much attention, andit was not until some time later that the girl understood why her oldcloak and kerchief had been bought at such a price. 

The news of what had happened reached the church with extraordinaryrapidity. When Keller arrived, a host of people whom he did not knowthronged around to ask him questions. There was much excited talking, and shaking of heads, even some laughter; but no one left the church, all being anxious to observe how the now celebrated bridegroom wouldtake the news. He grew very pale upon hearing it, but took it quitequietly. 

"I was afraid, " he muttered, scarcely audibly, "but I hardly thought itwould come to this. " Then after a short silence, he added: "However, inher state, it is quite consistent with the natural order of things. "

Even Keller admitted afterwards that this was "extraordinarilyphilosophical" on the prince's part. He left the church quite calm, toall appearances, as many witnesses were found to declare afterwards. Heseemed anxious to reach home and be left alone as quickly as possible;but this was not to be. He was accompanied by nearly all the invitedguests, and besides this, the house was almost besieged by excited bandsof people, who insisted upon being allowed to enter the verandah. Theprince heard Keller and Lebedeff remonstrating and quarrelling withthese unknown individuals, and soon went out himself. He approachedthe disturbers of his peace, requested courteously to be told what wasdesired; then politely putting Lebedeff and Keller aside, he addressedan old gentleman who was standing on the verandah steps at the head ofthe band of would-be guests, and courteously requested him to honour himwith a visit. The old fellow was quite taken aback by this, but entered, followed by a few more, who tried to appear at their ease. The restremained outside, and presently the whole crowd was censuring those whohad accepted the invitation. The prince offered seats to his strangevisitors, tea was served, and a general conversation sprang up. Everything was done most decorously, to the considerable surprise of theintruders. A few tentative attempts were made to turn the conversationto the events of the day, and a few indiscreet questions were asked; butMuishkin replied to everybody with such simplicity and good-humour, andat the same time with so much dignity, and showed such confidence in thegood breeding of his guests, that the indiscreet talkers were quicklysilenced. By degrees the conversation became almost serious. Onegentleman suddenly exclaimed, with great vehemence: "Whatever happens, I shall not sell my property; I shall wait. Enterprise is better thanmoney, and there, sir, you have my whole system of economy, if youwish!" He addressed the prince, who warmly commended his sentiments, though Lebedeff whispered in his ear that this gentleman, who talked somuch of his "property, " had never had either house or home. 

Nearly an hour passed thus, and when tea was over the visitors seemed tothink that it was time to go. As they went out, the doctor and the oldgentleman bade Muishkin a warm farewell, and all the rest took theirleave with hearty protestations of good-will, dropping remarks to theeffect that "it was no use worrying, " and that "perhaps all would turnout for the best, " and so on. Some of the younger intruders would haveasked for champagne, but they were checked by the older ones. When allhad departed, Keller leaned over to Lebedeff, and said:

"With you and me there would have been a scene. We should have shoutedand fought, and called in the police. But he has simply made some newfriends--and such friends, too! I know them!"

Lebedeff, who was slightly intoxicated, answered with a sigh:

"Things are hidden from the wise and prudent, and revealed unto babes. I have applied those words to him before, but now I add that God haspreserved the babe himself from the abyss, He and all His saints. "

At last, about half-past ten, the prince was left alone. His head ached. Colia was the last to go, after having helped him to change his weddingclothes. They parted on affectionate terms, and, without speaking ofwhat had happened, Colia promised to come very early the next day. Hesaid later that the prince had given no hint of his intentions when theysaid good-bye, but had hidden them even from him. Soon there was hardlyanyone left in the house. Burdovsky had gone to see Hippolyte; Kellerand Lebedeff had wandered off together somewhere. 

Only Vera Lebedeff remained hurriedly rearranging the furniture inthe rooms. As she left the verandah, she glanced at the prince. He wasseated at the table, with both elbows upon it, and his head restingon his hands. She approached him, and touched his shoulder gently. The prince started and looked at her in perplexity; he seemed to becollecting his senses for a minute or so, before he could remember wherehe was. As recollection dawned upon him, he became violently agitated. All he did, however, was to ask Vera very earnestly to knock at his doorand awake him in time for the first train to Petersburg next morning. Vera promised, and the prince entreated her not to tell anyone of hisintention. She promised this, too; and at last, when she had half-closedthe door, he called her back a third time, took her hands in his, kissedthem, then kissed her forehead, and in a rather peculiar manner said toher, "Until tomorrow!"

Such was Vera's story afterwards. 

She went away in great anxiety about him, but when she saw him in themorning, he seemed to be quite himself again, greeted her with a smile, and told her that he would very likely be back by the evening. Itappears that he did not consider it necessary to inform anyone exceptingVera of his departure for town. 

XI. 

AN hour later he was in St. Petersburg, and by ten o'clock he had rungthe bell at Rogojin's. 

He had gone to the front door, and was kept waiting a long while beforeanyone came. At last the door of old Mrs. Rogojin's flat was opened, andan aged servant appeared. 

"Parfen Semionovitch is not at home, " she announced from the doorway. "Whom do you want?"

"Parfen Semionovitch. "

"He is not in. "

The old woman examined the prince from head to foot with greatcuriosity. 

"At all events tell me whether he slept at home last night, and whetherhe came alone?"

The old woman continued to stare at him, but said nothing. 

"Was not Nastasia Philipovna here with him, yesterday evening?"

"And, pray, who are you yourself?"

"Prince Lef Nicolaievitch Muishkin; he knows me well. "

"He is not at home. "

The woman lowered her eyes. 

"And Nastasia Philipovna?"

"I know nothing about it. "

"Stop a minute! When will he come back?"

"I don't know that either. "

The door was shut with these words, and the old woman disappeared. Theprince decided to come back within an hour. Passing out of the house, hemet the porter. 

"Is Parfen Semionovitch at home?" he asked. 

"Yes. "

"Why did they tell me he was not at home, then?" "Where did they tellyou so, --at his door?" "No, at his mother's flat; I rang at ParfenSemionovitch's door and nobody came. "

"Well, he may have gone out. I can't tell. Sometimes he takes the keyswith him, and leaves the rooms empty for two or three days. "

"Do you know for certain that he was at home last night?"

"Yes, he was. "

"Was Nastasia Philipovna with him?"

"I don't know; she doesn't come often. I think I should have known ifshe had come. "

The prince went out deep in thought, and walked up and down the pavementfor some time. The windows of all the rooms occupied by Rogojin wereclosed, those of his mother's apartments were open. It was a hot, brightday. The prince crossed the road in order to have a good look at thewindows again; not only were Rogojin's closed, but the white blinds wereall down as well. 

He stood there for a minute and then, suddenly and strangely enough, itseemed to him that a little corner of one of the blinds was lifted, and Rogojin's face appeared for an instant and then vanished. He waitedanother minute, and decided to go and ring the bell once more; however, he thought better of it again and put it off for an hour. 

The chief object in his mind at this moment was to get as quickly ashe could to Nastasia Philipovna's lodging. He remembered that, not longsince, when she had left Pavlofsk at his request, he had begged herto put up in town at the house of a respectable widow, who hadwell-furnished rooms to let, near the Ismailofsky barracks. ProbablyNastasia had kept the rooms when she came down to Pavlofsk this lasttime; and most likely she would have spent the night in them, Rogojinhaving taken her straight there from the station. 

The prince took a droshky. It struck him as he drove on that he oughtto have begun by coming here, since it was most improbable that Rogojinshould have taken Nastasia to his own house last night. He rememberedthat the porter said she very rarely came at all, so that it was stillless likely that she would have gone there so late at night. 

Vainly trying to comfort himself with these reflections, the princereached the Ismailofsky barracks more dead than alive. 

To his consternation the good people at the lodgings had not only heardnothing of Nastasia, but all came out to look at him as if he were amarvel of some sort. The whole family, of all ages, surrounded him, andhe was begged to enter. He guessed at once that they knew perfectly wellwho he was, and that yesterday ought to have been his wedding-day; andfurther that they were dying to ask about the wedding, and especiallyabout why he should be here now, inquiring for the woman who in allreasonable human probability might have been expected to be with him inPavlofsk. 

He satisfied their curiosity, in as few words as possible, with regardto the wedding, but their exclamations and sighs were so numerous andsincere that he was obliged to tell the whole story--in a short form, of course. The advice of all these agitated ladies was that the princeshould go at once and knock at Rogojin's until he was let in: and whenlet in insist upon a substantial explanation of everything. If Rogojinwas really not at home, the prince was advised to go to a certain house, the address of which was given, where lived a German lady, a friend ofNastasia Philipovna's. It was possible that she might have spent thenight there in her anxiety to conceal herself. 

The prince rose from his seat in a condition of mental collapse. Thegood ladies reported afterwards that "his pallor was terrible to see, and his legs seemed to give way underneath him. " With difficulty he wasmade to understand that his new friends would be glad of his address, inorder to act with him if possible. After a moment's thought he gave theaddress of the small hotel, on the stairs of which he had had a fit somefive weeks since. He then set off once more for Rogojin's. 

This time they neither opened the door at Rogojin's flat nor at the oneopposite. The prince found the porter with difficulty, but when found, the man would hardly look at him or answer his questions, pretendingto be busy. Eventually, however, he was persuaded to reply so far as tostate that Rogojin had left the house early in the morning and gone toPavlofsk, and that he would not return today at all. 

"I shall wait; he may come back this evening. "

"He may not be home for a week. "

"Then, at all events, he DID sleep here, did he?"

"Well--he did sleep here, yes. "

All this was suspicious and unsatisfactory. Very likely the porter hadreceived new instructions during the interval of the prince's absence;his manner was so different now. He had been obliging--now he was asobstinate and silent as a mule. However, the prince decided to callagain in a couple of hours, and after that to watch the house, in caseof need. His hope was that he might yet find Nastasia at the addresswhich he had just received. To that address he now set off at fullspeed. 

But alas! at the German lady's house they did not even appear tounderstand what he wanted. After a while, by means of certain hints, hewas able to gather that Nastasia must have had a quarrel with her friendtwo or three weeks ago, since which date the latter had neither heardnor seen anything of her. He was given to understand that the subject ofNastasia's present whereabouts was not of the slightest interest to her;and that Nastasia might marry all the princes in the world for all shecared! So Muishkin took his leave hurriedly. It struck him now that shemight have gone away to Moscow just as she had done the last time, andthat Rogojin had perhaps gone after her, or even WITH her. If only hecould find some trace!

However, he must take his room at the hotel; and he started off in thatdirection. Having engaged his room, he was asked by the waiter whetherhe would take dinner; replying mechanically in the affirmative, he satdown and waited; but it was not long before it struck him that diningwould delay him. Enraged at this idea, he started up, crossed thedark passage (which filled him with horrible impressions and gloomyforebodings), and set out once more for Rogojin's. Rogojin had notreturned, and no one came to the door. He rang at the old lady's dooropposite, and was informed that Parfen Semionovitch would not return forthree days. The curiosity with which the old servant stared at him againimpressed the prince disagreeably. He could not find the porter thistime at all. 

As before, he crossed the street and watched the windows from the otherside, walking up and down in anguish of soul for half an hour or so inthe stifling heat. Nothing stirred; the blinds were motionless; indeed, the prince began to think that the apparition of Rogojin's face couldhave been nothing but fancy. Soothed by this thought, he drove off oncemore to his friends at the Ismailofsky barracks. He was expectedthere. The mother had already been to three or four places to look forNastasia, but had not found a trace of any kind. 

The prince said nothing, but entered the room, sat down silently, andstared at them, one after the other, with the air of a man who cannotunderstand what is being said to him. It was strange--one moment heseemed to be so observant, the next so absent; his behaviour struckall the family as most remarkable. At length he rose from his seat, andbegged to be shown Nastasia's rooms. The ladies reported afterwards howhe had examined everything in the apartments. He observed an open bookon the table, Madam Bovary, and requested the leave of the lady of thehouse to take it with him. He had turned down the leaf at the open page, and pocketed it before they could explain that it was a library book. Hehad then seated himself by the open window, and seeing a card-table, heasked who played cards. 

He was informed that Nastasia used to play with Rogojin every evening, either at "preference" or "little fool, " or "whist"; that this had beentheir practice since her last return from Pavlofsk; that she had takento this amusement because she did not like to see Rogojin sitting silentand dull for whole evenings at a time; that the day after Nastasia hadmade a remark to this effect, Rogojin had whipped a pack of cards outof his pocket. Nastasia had laughed, but soon they began playing. Theprince asked where were the cards, but was told that Rogojin used tobring a new pack every day, and always carried it away in his pocket. 

The good ladies recommended the prince to try knocking at Rogojin's oncemore--not at once, but in the evening Meanwhile, the mother would go toPavlofsk to inquire at Dana Alexeyevna's whether anything had been heardof Nastasia there. The prince was to come back at ten o'clock and meether, to hear her news and arrange plans for the morrow. 

In spite of the kindly-meant consolations of his new friends, the princewalked to his hotel in inexpressible anguish of spirit, through the hot, dusty streets, aimlessly staring at the faces of those who passed him. Arrived at his destination, he determined to rest awhile in his roombefore he started for Rogojin's once more. He sat down, rested hiselbows on the table and his head on his hands, and fell to thinking. 

Heaven knows how long and upon what subjects he thought. He thoughtof many things--of Vera Lebedeff, and of her father; of Hippolyte; ofRogojin himself, first at the funeral, then as he had met him in thepark, then, suddenly, as they had met in this very passage, outside, when Rogojin had watched in the darkness and awaited him with upliftedknife. The prince remembered his enemy's eyes as they had glared at himin the darkness. He shuddered, as a sudden idea struck him. 

This idea was, that if Rogojin were in Petersburg, though he might hidefor a time, yet he was quite sure to come to him--the prince--beforelong, with either good or evil intentions, but probably with the sameintention as on that other occasion. At all events, if Rogojin were tocome at all he would be sure to seek the prince here--he had no othertown address--perhaps in this same corridor; he might well seek him hereif he needed him. And perhaps he did need him. This idea seemed quitenatural to the prince, though he could not have explained why he shouldso suddenly have become necessary to Rogojin. Rogojin would not come ifall were well with him, that was part of the thought; he would come ifall were not well; and certainly, undoubtedly, all would not be wellwith him. The prince could not bear this new idea; he took his hat andrushed out towards the street. It was almost dark in the passage. 

"What if he were to come out of that corner as I go by and--and stopme?" thought the prince, as he approached the familiar spot. But no onecame out. 

He passed under the gateway and into the street. The crowds of peoplewalking about--as is always the case at sunset in Petersburg, during thesummer--surprised him, but he walked on in the direction of Rogojin'shouse. 

About fifty yards from the hotel, at the first cross-road, as he passedthrough the crowd of foot-passengers sauntering along, someone touchedhis shoulder, and said in a whisper into his ear:

"Lef Nicolaievitch, my friend, come along with me. " It was Rogojin. 

The prince immediately began to tell him, eagerly and joyfully, how hehad but the moment before expected to see him in the dark passage of thehotel. 

"I was there, " said Rogojin, unexpectedly. "Come along. " The prince wassurprised at this answer; but his astonishment increased a couple ofminutes afterwards, when he began to consider it. Having thought itover, he glanced at Rogojin in alarm. The latter was striding along ayard or so ahead, looking straight in front of him, and mechanicallymaking way for anyone he met. 

"Why did you not ask for me at my room if you were in the hotel?" askedthe prince, suddenly. 

Rogojin stopped and looked at him; then reflected, and replied as thoughhe had not heard the question:

"Look here, Lef Nicolaievitch, you go straight on to the house; I shallwalk on the other side. See that we keep together. "

So saying, Rogojin crossed the road. 

Arrived on the opposite pavement, he looked back to see whether theprince were moving, waved his hand in the direction of the Gorohovaya, and strode on, looking across every moment to see whether Muishkinunderstood his instructions. The prince supposed that Rogojin desired tolook out for someone whom he was afraid to miss; but if so, why had henot told HIM whom to look out for? So the two proceeded for half a mileor so. Suddenly the prince began to tremble from some unknown cause. Hecould not bear it, and signalled to Rogojin across the road. 

The latter came at once. 

"Is Nastasia Philipovna at your house?"

"Yes. "

"And was it you looked out of the window under the blind this morning?"

"Yes. "

"Then why did--"

But the prince could not finish his question; he did not know what tosay. Besides this, his heart was beating so that he found it difficultto speak at all. Rogojin was silent also and looked at him as before, with an expression of deep thoughtfulness. 

"Well, I'm going, " he said, at last, preparing to recross the road. "Yougo along here as before; we will keep to different sides of the road;it's better so, you'll see. "

When they reached the Gorohovaya, and came near the house, the prince'slegs were trembling so that he could hardly walk. It was about teno'clock. The old lady's windows were open, as before; Rogojin's wereall shut, and in the darkness the white blinds showed whiter than ever. Rogojin and the prince each approached the house on his respective sideof the road; Rogojin, who was on the near side, beckoned the princeacross. He went over to the doorway. 

"Even the porter does not know that I have come home now. I told him, and told them at my mother's too, that I was off to Pavlofsk, " saidRogojin, with a cunning and almost satisfied smile. "We'll go in quietlyand nobody will hear us. "

He had the key in his hand. Mounting the staircase he turned andsignalled to the prince to go more softly; he opened the door veryquietly, let the prince in, followed him, locked the door behind him, and put the key in his pocket. 

"Come along, " he whispered. 

He had spoken in a whisper all the way. In spite of his apparent outwardcomposure, he was evidently in a state of great mental agitation. Arrived in a large salon, next to the study, he went to the window andcautiously beckoned the prince up to him. 

"When you rang the bell this morning I thought it must be you. I went tothe door on tip-toe and heard you talking to the servant opposite. I hadtold her before that if anyone came and rang--especially you, and I gaveher your name--she was not to tell about me. Then I thought, what ifhe goes and stands opposite and looks up, or waits about to watch thehouse? So I came to this very window, looked out, and there you werestaring straight at me. That's how it came about. "

"Where is Nastasia Philipovna?" asked the prince, breathlessly. 

"She's here, " replied Rogojin, slowly, after a slight pause. 

"Where?"

Rogojin raised his eyes and gazed intently at the prince. 

"Come, " he said. 

He continued to speak in a whisper, very deliberately as before, andlooked strangely thoughtful and dreamy. Even while he told the story ofhow he had peeped through the blind, he gave the impression of wishingto say something else. They entered the study. In this room some changeshad taken place since the prince last saw it. It was now divided intotwo equal parts by a heavy green silk curtain stretched across it, separating the alcove beyond, where stood Rogojin's bed, from the restof the room. 

The heavy curtain was drawn now, and it was very dark. The brightPetersburg summer nights were already beginning to close in, and but forthe full moon, it would have been difficult to distinguish anything inRogojin's dismal room, with the drawn blinds. They could just see oneanothers faces, however, though not in detail. Rogojin's face was white, as usual. His glittering eyes watched the prince with an intent stare. 

"Had you not better light a candle?" said Muishkin. 

"No, I needn't, " replied Rogojin, and taking the other by the hand hedrew him down to a chair. He himself took a chair opposite and drew itup so close that he almost pressed against the prince's knees. At theirside was a little round table. 

"Sit down, " said Rogojin; "let's rest a bit. " There was silence for amoment. 

"I knew you would be at that hotel, " he continued, just as men sometimescommence a serious conversation by discussing any outside subject beforeleading up to the main point. "As I entered the passage it struck methat perhaps you were sitting and waiting for me, just as I was waitingfor you. Have you been to the old lady at Ismailofsky barracks?"

"Yes, " said the prince, squeezing the word out with difficulty owing tothe dreadful beating of his heart. 

"I thought you would. 'They'll talk about it, ' I thought; so Idetermined to go and fetch you to spend the night here--'We will betogether, ' I thought, 'for this one night--'"

"Rogojin, WHERE is Nastasia Philipovna?" said the prince, suddenlyrising from his seat. He was quaking in all his limbs, and his wordscame in a scarcely audible whisper. Rogojin rose also. 

"There, " he whispered, nodding his head towards the curtain. 

"Asleep?" whispered the prince. 

Rogojin looked intently at him again, as before. 

"Let's go in--but you mustn't--well--let's go in. "

He lifted the curtain, paused--and turned to the prince. "Go in, " hesaid, motioning him to pass behind the curtain. Muishkin went in. 

"It's so dark, " he said. 

"You can see quite enough, " muttered Rogojin. 

"I can just see there's a bed--"

"Go nearer, " suggested Rogojin, softly. 

The prince took a step forward--then another--and paused. He stood andstared for a minute or two. 

Neither of the men spoke a word while at the bedside. The prince's heartbeat so loud that its knocking seemed to be distinctly audible in thedeathly silence. 

But now his eyes had become so far accustomed to the darkness that hecould distinguish the whole of the bed. Someone was asleep uponit--in an absolutely motionless sleep. Not the slightest movement wasperceptible, not the faintest breathing could be heard. The sleeperwas covered with a white sheet; the outline of the limbs was hardlydistinguishable. He could only just make out that a human being layoutstretched there. 

All around, on the bed, on a chair beside it, on the floor, werescattered the different portions of a magnificent white silk dress, bitsof lace, ribbons and flowers. On a small table at the bedside glittereda mass of diamonds, torn off and thrown down anyhow. From under a heapof lace at the end of the bed peeped a small white foot, which looked asthough it had been chiselled out of marble; it was terribly still. 

The prince gazed and gazed, and felt that the more he gazed the moredeath-like became the silence. Suddenly a fly awoke somewhere, buzzedacross the room, and settled on the pillow. The prince shuddered. 

"Let's go, " said Rogojin, touching his shoulder. They left the alcoveand sat down in the two chairs they had occupied before, opposite to oneanother. The prince trembled more and more violently, and never took hisquestioning eyes off Rogojin's face. 

"I see you are shuddering, Lef Nicolaievitch, " said the latter, atlength, "almost as you did once in Moscow, before your fit; don't youremember? I don't know what I shall do with you--"

The prince bent forward to listen, putting all the strain he couldmuster upon his understanding in order to take in what Rogojin said, andcontinuing to gaze at the latter's face. 

"Was it you?" he muttered, at last, motioning with his head towards thecurtain. 

"Yes, it was I, " whispered Rogojin, looking down. 

Neither spoke for five minutes. 

"Because, you know, " Rogojin recommenced, as though continuing a formersentence, "if you were ill now, or had a fit, or screamed, or anything, they might hear it in the yard, or even in the street, and guess thatsomeone was passing the night in the house. They would all come andknock and want to come in, because they know I am not at home. I didn'tlight a candle for the same reason. When I am not here--for two orthree days at a time, now and then--no one comes in to tidy the houseor anything; those are my orders. So that I want them to not know we arespending the night here--"

"Wait, " interrupted the prince. "I asked both the porter and the womanwhether Nastasia Philipovna had spent last night in the house; so theyknew--"

"I know you asked. I told them that she had called in for ten minutes, and then gone straight back to Pavlofsk. No one knows she slept here. Last night we came in just as carefully as you and I did today. Ithought as I came along with her that she would not like to creep in sosecretly, but I was quite wrong. She whispered, and walked on tip-toe;she carried her skirt over her arm, so that it shouldn't rustle, andshe held up her finger at me on the stairs, so that I shouldn't makea noise--it was you she was afraid of. She was mad with terror in thetrain, and she begged me to bring her to this house. I thought of takingher to her rooms at the Ismailofsky barracks first; but she wouldn'thear of it. She said, 'No--not there; he'll find me out at once there. Take me to your own house, where you can hide me, and tomorrow we'll setoff for Moscow. ' Thence she would go to Orel, she said. When she went tobed, she was still talking about going to Orel. "

"Wait! What do you intend to do now, Parfen?"

"Well, I'm afraid of you. You shudder and tremble so. We'll pass thenight here together. There are no other beds besides that one; but I'vethought how we'll manage. I'll take the cushions off all the sofas, andlay them down on the floor, up against the curtain here--for you andme--so that we shall be together. For if they come in and look aboutnow, you know, they'll find her, and carry her away, and they'll beasking me questions, and I shall say I did it, and then they'll take meaway, too, don't you see? So let her lie close to us--close to you andme. 

"Yes, yes, " agreed the prince, warmly. 

"So we will not say anything about it, or let them take her away?"

"Not for anything!" cried the other; "no, no, no!"

"So I had decided, my friend; not to give her up to anyone, " continuedRogojin. "We'll be very quiet. I have only been out of the house onehour all day, all the rest of the time I have been with her. I dare saythe air is very bad here. It is so hot. Do you find it bad?"

"I don't know--perhaps--by morning it will be. "

"I've covered her with oil-cloth--best American oilcloth, and putthe sheet over that, and four jars of disinfectant, on account of thesmell--as they did at Moscow--you remember? And she's lying so still;you shall see, in the morning, when it's light. What! can't you get up?"asked Rogojin, seeing the other was trembling so that he could not risefrom his seat. 

"My legs won't move, " said the prince; "it's fear, I know. When my fearis over, I'll get up--"

"Wait a bit--I'll make the bed, and you can lie down. I'll lie down, too, and we'll listen and watch, for I don't know yet what I shall do. . . I tell you beforehand, so that you may be ready in case I--"

Muttering these disconnected words, Rogojin began to make up the beds. It was clear that he had devised these beds long before; last night heslept on the sofa. But there was no room for two on the sofa, and heseemed anxious that he and the prince should be close to one another;therefore, he now dragged cushions of all sizes and shapes from thesofas, and made a sort of bed of them close by the curtain. He thenapproached the prince, and gently helped him to rise, and led himtowards the bed. But the prince could now walk by himself, so that hisfear must have passed; for all that, however, he continued to shudder. 

"It's hot weather, you see, " continued Rogojin, as he lay down on thecushions beside Muishkin, "and, naturally, there will be a smell. Idaren't open the window. My mother has some beautiful flowers in pots;they have a delicious scent; I thought of fetching them in, but that oldservant will find out, she's very inquisitive. 

"Yes, she is inquisitive, " assented the prince. 

"I thought of buying flowers, and putting them all round her; but I wasafraid it would make us sad to see her with flowers round her. "

"Look here, " said the prince; he was bewildered, and his brain wandered. He seemed to be continually groping for the questions he wished to ask, and then losing them. "Listen--tell me--how did you--with a knife?--Thatsame one?"

"Yes, that same one. "

"Wait a minute, I want to ask you something else, Parfen; all sorts ofthings; but tell me first, did you intend to kill her before my wedding, at the church door, with your knife?"

"I don't know whether I did or not, " said Rogojin, drily, seeming to bea little astonished at the question, and not quite taking it in. 

"Did you never take your knife to Pavlofsk with you?" "No. As to theknife, " he added, "this is all I can tell you about it. " He was silentfor a moment, and then said, "I took it out of the locked drawer thismorning about three, for it was in the early morning all this--happened. It has been inside the book ever since--and--and--this is what is sucha marvel to me, the knife only went in a couple of inches at most, justunder her left breast, and there wasn't more than half a tablespoonfulof blood altogether, not more. "

"Yes--yes--yes--" The prince jumped up in extraordinary agitation. "I know, I know, I've read of that sort of thing--it's internalhaemorrhage, you know. Sometimes there isn't a drop--if the blow goesstraight to the heart--"

"Wait--listen!" cried Rogojin, suddenly, starting up. "Somebody'swalking about, do you hear? In the hall. " Both sat up to listen. 

"I hear, " said the prince in a whisper, his eyes fixed on Rogojin. 

"Footsteps?"

"Yes. "

"Shall we shut the door, and lock it, or not?"

"Yes, lock it. "

They locked the door, and both lay down again. There was a long silence. 

"Yes, by-the-by, " whispered the prince, hurriedly and excitedly asbefore, as though he had just seized hold of an idea and was afraid oflosing it again. "I--I wanted those cards! They say you played cardswith her?"

"Yes, I played with her, " said Rogojin, after a short silence. 

"Where are the cards?"

"Here they are, " said Rogojin, after a still longer pause. 

He pulled out a pack of cards, wrapped in a bit of paper, from hispocket, and handed them to the prince. The latter took them, with a sortof perplexity. A new, sad, helpless feeling weighed on his heart; he hadsuddenly realized that not only at this moment, but for a long while, he had not been saying what he wanted to say, had not been acting as hewanted to act; and that these cards which he held in his hand, and whichhe had been so delighted to have at first, were now of no use--no use. . . He rose, and wrung his hands. Rogojin lay motionless, and seemed neitherto hear nor see his movements; but his eyes blazed in the darkness, andwere fixed in a wild stare. 

The prince sat down on a chair, and watched him in alarm. Half an hourwent by. 

Suddenly Rogojin burst into a loud abrupt laugh, as though he had quiteforgotten that they must speak in whispers. 

"That officer, eh!--that young officer--don't you remember that fellowat the band? Eh? Ha, ha, ha! Didn't she whip him smartly, eh?"

The prince jumped up from his seat in renewed terror. When Rogojinquieted down (which he did at once) the prince bent over him, sat downbeside him, and with painfully beating heart and still more painfulbreath, watched his face intently. Rogojin never turned his head, andseemed to have forgotten all about him. The prince watched and waited. Time went on--it began to grow light. 

Rogojin began to wander--muttering disconnectedly; then he took toshouting and laughing. The prince stretched out a trembling hand andgently stroked his hair and his cheeks--he could do nothing more. Hislegs trembled again and he seemed to have lost the use of them. Anew sensation came over him, filling his heart and soul with infiniteanguish. 

Meanwhile the daylight grew full and strong; and at last the princelay down, as though overcome by despair, and laid his face against thewhite, motionless face of Rogojin. His tears flowed on to Rogojin'scheek, though he was perhaps not aware of them himself. 

At all events when, after many hours, the door was opened and peoplethronged in, they found the murderer unconscious and in a raging fever. The prince was sitting by him, motionless, and each time that the sickman gave a laugh, or a shout, he hastened to pass his own trembling handover his companion's hair and cheeks, as though trying to soothe andquiet him. But alas I he understood nothing of what was said to him, andrecognized none of those who surrounded him. 

If Schneider himself had arrived then and seen his former pupil andpatient, remembering the prince's condition during the first year inSwitzerland, he would have flung up his hands, despairingly, and cried, as he did then:

"An idiot!"

XII. 

WHEN the widow hurried away to Pavlofsk, she went straight to DariaAlexeyevna's house, and telling all she knew, threw her into a state ofgreat alarm. Both ladies decided to communicate at once with Lebedeff, who, as the friend and landlord of the prince, was also much agitated. Vera Lebedeff told all she knew, and by Lebedeff's advice it was decidedthat all three should go to Petersburg as quickly as possible, in orderto avert "what might so easily happen. "

This is how it came about that at eleven o'clock next morning Rogojin'sflat was opened by the police in the presence of Lebedeff, the twoladies, and Rogojin's own brother, who lived in the wing. 

The evidence of the porter went further than anything else towards thesuccess of Lebedeff in gaining the assistance of the police. He declaredthat he had seen Rogojin return to the house last night, accompanied bya friend, and that both had gone upstairs very secretly and cautiously. After this there was no hesitation about breaking open the door, sinceit could not be got open in any other way. 

Rogojin suffered from brain fever for two months. When he recovered fromthe attack he was at once brought up on trial for murder. 

He gave full, satisfactory, and direct evidence on every point; and theprince's name was, thanks to this, not brought into the proceedings. Rogojin was very quiet during the progress of the trial. He did notcontradict his clever and eloquent counsel, who argued that the brainfever, or inflammation of the brain, was the cause of the crime;clearly proving that this malady had existed long before the murder wasperpetrated, and had been brought on by the sufferings of the accused. 

But Rogojin added no words of his own in confirmation of this view, andas before, he recounted with marvellous exactness the details ofhis crime. He was convicted, but with extenuating circumstances, andcondemned to hard labour in Siberia for fifteen years. He heard hissentence grimly, silently, and thoughtfully. His colossal fortune, withthe exception of the comparatively small portion wasted in the firstwanton period of his inheritance, went to his brother, to the greatsatisfaction of the latter. 

The old lady, Rogojin's mother, is still alive, and remembers herfavourite son Parfen sometimes, but not clearly. God spared her theknowledge of this dreadful calamity which had overtaken her house. 

Lebedeff, Keller, Gania, Ptitsin, and many other friends of ourscontinue to live as before. There is scarcely any change in them, sothat there is no need to tell of their subsequent doings. 

Hippolyte died in great agitation, and rather sooner than he expected, about a fortnight after Nastasia Philpovna's death. Colia was muchaffected by these events, and drew nearer to his mother in heart andsympathy. Nina Alexandrovna is anxious, because he is "thoughtful beyondhis years, " but he will, we think, make a useful and active man. 

The prince's further fate was more or less decided by Colia, whoselected, out of all the persons he had met during the last six or sevenmonths, Evgenie Pavlovitch, as friend and confidant. To him he made overall that he knew as to the events above recorded, and as to the presentcondition of the prince. He was not far wrong in his choice. EvgeniePavlovitch took the deepest interest in the fate of the unfortunate"idiot, " and, thanks to his influence, the prince found himself oncemore with Dr. Schneider, in Switzerland. 

Evgenie Pavlovitch, who went abroad at this time, intending to live along while on the continent, being, as he often said, quite superfluousin Russia, visits his sick friend at Schneider's every few months. 

But Dr. Schneider frowns ever more and more and shakes his head; hehints that the brain is fatally injured; he does not as yet declare thathis patient is incurable, but he allows himself to express the gravestfears. 

Evgenie takes this much to heart, and he has a heart, as is provedby the fact that he receives and even answers letters from Colia. Butbesides this, another trait in his character has become apparent, and asit is a good trait we will make haste to reveal it. After each visitto Schneider's establishment, Evgenie Pavlovitch writes another letter, besides that to Colia, giving the most minute particulars concerning theinvalid's condition. In these letters is to be detected, and in each onemore than the last, a growing feeling of friendship and sympathy. 

The individual who corresponds thus with Evgenie Pavlovitch, and whoengages so much of his attention and respect, is Vera Lebedeff. We havenever been able to discover clearly how such relations sprang up. Of course the root of them was in the events which we have alreadyrecorded, and which so filled Vera with grief on the prince's accountthat she fell seriously ill. But exactly how the acquaintance andfriendship came about, we cannot say. 

We have spoken of these letters chiefly because in them is often to befound some news of the Epanchin family, and of Aglaya in particular. Evgenie Pavlovitch wrote of her from Paris, that after a short andsudden attachment to a certain Polish count, an exile, she had suddenlymarried him, quite against the wishes of her parents, though they hadeventually given their consent through fear of a terrible scandal. Then, after a six months' silence, Evgenie Pavlovitch informed hiscorrespondent, in a long letter, full of detail, that while paying hislast visit to Dr. Schneider's establishment, he had there come acrossthe whole Epanchin family (excepting the general, who had remained inSt. Petersburg) and Prince S. The meeting was a strange one. Theyall received Evgenie Pavlovitch with effusive delight; Adelaida andAlexandra were deeply grateful to him for his "angelic kindness to theunhappy prince. "

Lizabetha Prokofievna, when she saw poor Muishkin, in his enfeebled andhumiliated condition, had wept bitterly. Apparently all was forgivenhim. 

Prince S. Had made a few just and sensible remarks. It seemed to EvgeniePavlovitch that there was not yet perfect harmony between Adelaida andher fiance, but he thought that in time the impulsive young girl wouldlet herself be guided by his reason and experience. Besides, the recentevents that had befallen her family had given Adelaida much to thinkabout, especially the sad experiences of her younger sister. Within sixmonths, everything that the family had dreaded from the marriage withthe Polish count had come to pass. He turned out to be neither countnor exile--at least, in the political sense of the word--but had had toleave his native land owing to some rather dubious affair of the past. It was his noble patriotism, of which he made a great display, thathad rendered him so interesting in Aglaya's eyes. She was so fascinatedthat, even before marrying him, she joined a committee that had beenorganized abroad to work for the restoration of Poland; and further, she visited the confessional of a celebrated Jesuit priest, who made anabsolute fanatic of her. The supposed fortune of the count had dwindledto a mere nothing, although he had given almost irrefutable evidence ofits existence to Lizabetha Prokofievna and Prince S. 

Besides this, before they had been married half a year, the count andhis friend the priest managed to bring about a quarrel between Aglayaand her family, so that it was now several months since they had seenher. In a word, there was a great deal to say; but Mrs. Epanchin, andher daughters, and even Prince S. , were still so much distressed byAglaya's latest infatuations and adventures, that they did hot care totalk of them, though they must have known that Evgenie knew much of thestory already. 

Poor Lizabetha Prokofievna was most anxious to get home, and, accordingto Evgenie's account, she criticized everything foreign with muchhostility. 

"They can't bake bread anywhere, decently; and they all freeze in theirhouses, during winter, like a lot of mice in a cellar. At all events, I've had a good Russian cry over this poor fellow, " she added, pointingto the prince, who had not recognized her in the slightest degree. "So enough of this nonsense; it's time we faced the truth. All thiscontinental life, all this Europe of yours, and all the trash about'going abroad' is simply foolery, and it is mere foolery on our partto come. Remember what I say, my friend; you'll live to agree with meyourself. "

So spoke the good lady, almost angrily, as she took leave of EvgeniePavlovitch.