Complete Works of Fyodor Dostoyevsky (418 page)

“Now then,” said Lizaveta Prokofyevna, turning suddenly, “we’re just passing his door. Whatever Aglaia may think, and whatever may happen afterwards, he is not a stranger, and what’s more, now he’s in trouble and ill. I shall go to see him anyhow. If any care to come too, they can, if not you can go on. The way is open.”

They all went in, of course. Myshkin very properly hastened to beg forgiveness once more for the vase and ... the scene.

“Oh, that’s no matter,” answered Lizaveta Prokofyevna. “I don’t mind about the vase, I mind about you. So now you’re aware yourself that there was a scene last night, that’s how it is ‘the morning after.’ But it’s all of no consequence, for every one sees now that one mustn’t be hard on you. Good-bye for the present though. If you feel strong enough, go for a little walk and then have a nap — that’s my advice. And if you feel disposed, come in as usual. Be sure, once for all, that whatever happens, whatever may come you’ll always be our friend, mine anyway. I can answer for myself...”

All accepted this challenge, and confirmed their mother’s sentiments. They went out, but in this simple-hearted haste to say something kind and encouraging there lay hid a great deal that was cruel, of which Lizaveta Prokofyevna had no suspicion. In the words “as usual” and “mine at least” — there was again an ominous note. Myshkin began to think of Aglaia. It is true that she had given him a wonderful smile on going in and again on taking leave, but she had not uttered a word, even when the others had all made their protestations of friendship, though she had looked intently at him once or twice. Her face was paler than usual, as though she had slept badly that night. Myshkin made up his mind that he would certainly go to them that evening “as usual” and he looked feverishly at his watch. Vera came in just three minutes after the Epanchins had gone.

“Aglaia Ivanovna gave me a message for you just now, in secret, Lyov Nikolayevitch,” she said.

Myshkin positively trembled.

“A note?”

“No, a message. She had hardly time for that, even. She begs you earnestly not to be away from home for one minute all to-day, up till seven o’clock this evening, or till nine o’clock, I couldn’t quite hear.”

“But why so? What does it mean?”

“I know nothing about it. Only she was very earnest that I should give you the message.”

“Did she say’very earnest’?”

“No, she didn’t say that. She just managed to turn round and speak, as I luckily ran up to her myself. But I could see from her face whether she was in earnest over it. She looked at me so that she made my heart stop beating....”

After asking a few more questions Myshkin was more agitated than ever, though he succeeded in learning nothing more. When he was left alone, he lay down on the sofa and fell to musing again.

“Perhaps they have a visitor there till nine o’clock and she’s afraid I may do something silly before visitors again,” he thought at last, and began again impatiently waiting for evening and looking at his watch. But the mystery was solved long before the evening, and the solution also was brought by a visitor, and took the form of a new and agonising mystery.

Just half an hour after the Epanchins’ visit, Ippolit came in to him, so tired and exhausted that, entering without uttering a word, he literally fell, almost unconscious, into an easy chair, and instantly broke into an insufferable cough. He coughed till the blood came. His eyes glittered and there were hectic flushes on his cheeks. Myshkin murmured something to him, but Ippolit made no reply, and for a long time could only motion to Myshkin to let him alone. At last he came to himself.

“I’m going!” he pronounced, with an effort at last, and with a husky voice.

“I’ll go with you if you like,” said Myshkin, getting up from his seat and suddenly stopping short, as he recalled that he had been forbidden to leave the house.

Ippolit laughed.

“I’m not going away from you,” he went on, continually gasping and coughing, “on the contrary, I found it necessary to come to you and about something important ... but for which I would not have disturbed you. I’m going over yonder, and this time I believe I really am going. It’s all up! I haven’t come for sympathy, believe me ... I lay down at ten o’clock to-day meaning not to get up again till the time came. But you see I changed my mind and got up once more to come to you ... so you see I had to.”

“It grieves me to look at you. \bu’d better have sent for me instead of troubling to come here.”

“Well, that’s enough. You’ve expressed your regret and enough to satisfy the requirements of politeness. ... But I forgot: how are you yourself?”

“I’m all right. Yesterday I was ... not quite ...”

“I know, I know, the Chinese vase had the worst of it. I’m sorry I wasn’t there! I’ve come about something. In the first place, I’ve had the pleasure today of seeing Gavril Ardalionovitch at a tryst with Aglaia Ivanovna on the green seat. I was astonished to see how stupid a man can look. I remarked upon it to Aglaia Ivanovna, when Gavril Ardalionovitch had gone. . . . You seem not to be surprised at anything, prince,” he added, looking mistrustfully at Myshkin’s calm face. “To be surprised at nothing, they say, is a sign of great intelligence. To my mind, it might quite as well be a sign of great stupidity . . . But I don’t mean that for you, excuse me ... I am very unfortunate in my expressions to-day.”

“I knew yesterday that Gavril Ardalionovitch ...”

Myshkin broke off, obviously confused, though Ippolit was annoyed at his not being surprised.

“You knew it! That’s something new! But don’t tell me about it. . . . “Vbu weren’t a witness of the interview to-day, I suppose?”

“You saw that I was not there, since you were there yourself.”

“Oh, you may have been sitting behind a bush somewhere. But I’m glad, for your sake, of course, for I was beginning to think that Gavril Ardalionovitch — was the favourite.”

“I beg you not to speak of this to me, Ippolit, and in such terms.”

“Especially since you know all about it already.”

“You are mistaken, I know hardly anything about it, and Aglaia Ivanovna knows for a fact that I know nothing about it. I knew nothing about their meeting, really. \bu say there’s been a meeting between them? Very well then, let us leave the subject....”

“But how’s this? One minute you know, the next you don’t. You say, ‘very well and let us leave it.’ But look here, don’t be so trustful! Especially if you don’t know anything about it. \bu are trustful because you don’t know anything about it. And do you know what those two, the brother and sister, are scheming for? Perhaps you suspect that? Very well, very well, I’ll drop it,” he added, noticing an impatient gesture from Myshkin. “Well, I’ve come about my own affairs and I want to . . . explain about it. Damn it all, one can’t die without explanations. It’s awful how much I explain. Do you care to hear?”

“Speak, I’m listening.”

“But I’m changing my opinion again, though, I’ll begin with Ganya, all the same. Would you believe it that I had an appointment at the green seat to-day, too? I don’t want to tell a lie, though. I insisted on an interview myself, I begged for it, I promised to reveal a secret. I don’t know whether I came too early (I believe I really was early), but I had no sooner sat down beside Aglaia Ivanovna, when I saw Gavril Ardalionovitch and Varvara Ardalionovna coming along, arm in arm, as though they were out for a walk. They both seemed very much amazed at meeting me. It was so unexpected that they were quite taken aback. Aglaia Ivanovna flushed crimson, and you may not believe it, but she was rather disconcerted, whether because I was there or simply at the sight of Gavril Ardalionovitch — you know what a beauty he is — anyway she turned crimson, and ended it all in a second, very absurdly. She got up, answered Gavril Ardalionovitch’s bow, and Varvara Ardalionovna’s ingratiating smile, and suddenly rapped out: ‘I’ve only come to express in person my pleasure at your sincere and friendly feelings, and if I am in need of them, believe me . . .’ Then she turned awav and the two went off — I don’t know whether like fools or in triumph — Ganya, of course, a fool. He couldn’t make out a word, and turned as red as a lobster (he has an extraordinary expression of face sometimes). But Varvara Ardalionovna seemed to understand that they must make their escape as quickly as possible, and that this was quite enough from Aglaia Ivanovna, and she drew her brother away. She’s cleverer than he is and I’ve no doubt she’s triumphant now. I came to Aglaia Ivanovna to make arrangements about a meeting with Nastasya Filippovna.”

“With Nastasya Filippovna,” cried Myshkin.

“Aha! You seem to be losing your indifference and beginning to be surprised. I’m glad that you’re ready to be like a human being at last. I’ll comfort you for that. This is what comes of serving a young lady of lofty soul. I got a slap in the face from her to-day.”

“Morally speaking?” Myshkin could not help asking.

“Yes, not physically. I don’t think anyone would raise a hand against a creature like me, even a woman would not strike me now. Even Ganya wouldn’t strike me! Though I did think he was going to fly at me at one time yesterday. ... I’ll bet you anything I know what you’re thinking about now. “Vbu’re thinking, ‘he mustn’t be beaten of course, but he might be smothered with a pillow or a wet cloth in his sleep — in fact one ought to. . . .’ It’s written on your face that you’re thinking that at this very second.”

“I’ve never thought of such a thing,” Myshkin answered with disgust.

“I don’t know, I dreamt last night that I was smothered with a wet cloth by ... a man. . . . I’ll tell you who it was — Rogozhin! What do you think? Could a man be smothered with a wet cloth?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’ve heard that it can be done. Very well, we’ll drop it. Come, why am I a slanderer? Why did she accuse me of being a slanderer to-day? And take note, it was after she’d heard every word I had to say, and questioned me, too. .. . But that’s just like a woman! For her sake I’ve got into communication with Rogozhin, an interesting person. In her interests I have arranged a personal interview with Nastasya Filippovna for her. Was it because I wounded her vanity by hinting that she enjoyed Nastasya Filippovna’s ‘leavings’? Yes, I did try to impress that upon her all the time in her interest, I don’t deny it. I wrote her two letters in that strain, and to-day for the third time, at our interview ... I began by telling her that it was humiliating for her. . . . Though the word ‘leavings’ wasn’t mine, but some one else’s. At Ganya’s, anyway, everybody was saying it, and indeed she repeated it herself. So how can she call me a slanderer? I see, I see, it’s very amusing for you to look at me now, and I bet you’re applying those stupid verses to me:

‘And on the gloom of my declining hour Perchance the farewell smile of love may shine.’

“Ha-ha-ha!” He went off into an hysterical laugh. “Mark,” he gasped through a fit of coughing, “what a fellow Ganya is, he talks about ‘leavings’ and what does he want to take advantage of himself now!”

For a long while Myshkin was silent. He was horrorstruck.

“You spoke of an interview with Nastasya Filippovna,” he murmured at last.

“Hey, are you really unaware that Aglaia Ivanovna is going to meet Nastasya Filippovna to-day? And that for that purpose Nastasya Filippovna has been brought, through Rogozhin, from Petersburg, at an invitation of Aglaia Ivanovna and by my efforts, is now staying with Rogozhin, where she stayed before, very near you, in the house of that woman . .. Darya Alexeyevna ... a very dubious lady, a friend of hers, and to that very doubtful house Aglaia Ivanovna is going to-day to have a friendly conversation with Nastasya Filippovna, and to decide various problems. They want to work at arithmetic. Didn’t you know it? Honour bright?”

“That’s incredible!”

“Well, that’s all right if it’s incredible. But how could you know? Though this is such a place, if a fly buzzes every one knows of it. But I’ve warned you, and you may be grateful to me. Well, till we meet again — in the next world probably. But another thing: though I have been a cad to you, because . . . why should I be a loser? Kindly tell me that? For your advantage, eh? I’ve dedicated my ‘Confession’ to her (you didn’t know that?). And how she received it too, ha-ha! But anyway I’ve not behaved like a cad to her, I’ve not done her any harm; but she’s put me to shame and snubbed me . . . though I’ve done you no harm either. If I did refer to ‘leavings’ and things of that sort, still I am telling you the day and the hour and the address of their meeting, and I’ve let you into the whole game . . . from resentment of course, not from generosity. Good-bye, I’m as talkative as a stammerer or a consumptive. Mind you take steps at once, if you deserve to be called a man. The interview is to take place this evening, that’s the truth.”

Ippolit went towards the door, but Myshkin called after him and he stopped in the doorway.

“So then, according to you, Aglaia Ivanovna is going herself to-day to Nastasya Filippovna?” asked Myshkin.

Patches of red came out on his forehead and cheeks.

“I don’t know for a fact, but that’s probably so,” answered Ippolit, looking round. “Yes, it must be so. Nastasya Filippovna couldn’t go to her? And it wouldn’t be at Ganya’s, where there’s a man almost dead. What do you think of the general?”

“It can’t be there, if only for that reason,” Myshkin put in. “How could she get away even if she wanted to? “Vbu don’t know ... the habits of the household. She couldn’t get away from home alone to see Nastasya Filippovna. It’s nonsense!”

“Look here, prince, nobody jumps out of window, but when the house is on fire the grandest gentleman or lady is ready to jump out of window. When it’s a case of necessity, there’s no help for it, and our young lady will even go to see Nastasya Filippovna. And don’t they let them go anywhere, your young ladies?”

“No, I didn’t mean that...”

“Well, if not, she’s only to go down the steps, and go straight there, and she needn’t ever go home again. There are cases when one may sometimes burn one’s ships and not go home again. Life does not consist only of lunches and dinners and Prince S.’s. I fancy you take Aglaia Ivanovna for a young lady or a boarding-school miss. Wait till seven or eight o’clock. If I were in your place, I’d send some one to be on the watch there to catch the very minute when she comes down the steps. Send Kolya. He’ll be deliqhted to plav the spv, believe me, for vour sake, I mean ... for everything’s relative.... Ha-ha!”