The Idiot (11 page)

‘Oh, no,’ the general interrupted with conviction, ‘and really, what a cast of mind you have! She would never hint ... she’s not self-seeking at all. And in any case, what are you going to give her as a present: I mean, one would need thousands! Not your portrait, anyway! By the way, has she asked you for your portrait yet?’

‘No, she hasn’t; and perhaps she never will. Ivan Fyodorovich, you do remember about the soiree this evening? After all, you are one of the specially invited guests.’

‘Yes, yes, of course I remember, and I shall be there. Especially as it’s her birthday, and she’s twenty-five! Hmm ... And listen, Ganya, I may as well tell you, I’m going to reveal something, so prepare yourself. She has promised Afanasy Ivanovich and me that at this evening’s soiree she will deliver her final word: to be or not to be! So let me tell you: watch out.’

Ganya suddenly became embarrassed, so much so that he even turned slightly pale.

‘Did she really say that?’ he asked, and his voice seemed to tremble.

‘She promised it the day before yesterday. We were both so insistent that she had no option. Only she asked us not to tell you in advance.’

The general was studying Ganya fixedly; Ganya’s embarrassment was evidently not to his liking.

‘Remember, Ivan Fyodorovich,’ Ganya said, uneasily and hesitantly, ‘that she gave me complete freedom of decision until such time as she herself would resolve the matter, and even then would I still have the last word ...’

‘I say, you haven’t ... you haven’t ...’ the general suddenly exclaimed in alarm.

‘I haven’t said anything.’

‘But for pity’s sake, what are you trying to do to us?’

‘I’m not refusing her. Perhaps I didn’t express myself properly...’

‘I should think you’re not refusing her!’ the general said with annoyance, not even trying to restrain himself. ‘What matters here, brother, is not your refusal, what matters is your eagerness, your pleasure, the joy with which you will receive her words ... How are things with you at home?’

‘What is there to say about home? At home my will prevails in everything, except that Father is playing the fool as usual - he’s become a complete ruffian; I don’t talk to him any more, but I keep tight control of him, and really, were it not for Mother, I would have shown him the door. Mother cries all the time, of course; my sister is in a violent temper, but I finally told them straight out that I am the master of my fate, and that in the house I wish to be ... obeyed. I spelt it out for my sister, at least, in my mother’s presence.’

‘Well, brother, I still fail to perceive,’ the general observed reflectively, with a slight shrug of his shoulders, spreading his arms a little. ‘Nina Alexandrovna, your mother, when she came here the other day - you remember? - also kept moaning and groaning all the time. “What’s the matter with you?” I asked. It turned out that to them it’s some kind of
dishonour.
What kind of dishonour is there in it, permit me to ask? Who can reproach Nastasya Filippovna with anything, or raise anything against her? Surely not that she’d been with Totsky? But that’s plain rubbish, especially in view of certain circumstances! “You won’t let her
near your daughters, will you?” she said. Well! I never! Dear me, Nina Alexandrovna! I mean, how can you not understand, how can you not understand ...’

‘Your position?’ Ganya said to the flabbergasted general. ‘She does understand; don’t be angry with her. Actually, at the time I gave her a good talking to, and told her not to meddle in other people’s business. So far, however, the house still stands only because the last word has not yet been spoken; but the storm is gathering. If the last word is spoken this evening, then everything else will come out, too.’

The prince heard the whole of this conversation as he sat in the corner at his calligraphic sample. He finished it, walked round to the table and handed over his sheet of paper.

‘So that’s Nastasya Filippovna?’ he said quietly, looking at the portrait attentively and inquisitively for a moment. ‘Astonishingly good looking!’ he added at once, with ardour.

The portrait really did depict a woman of unusual beauty. She had been photographed in a black silk dress of exceedingly simple and elegant cut; her hair, apparently dark russet, was done up simply, in domestic fashion; her eyes were dark and deep, her forehead pensive; the expression of her face was passionate and slightly haughty. She was somewhat thin in the face, perhaps, and pale ... Ganya and the general looked at the prince in bewilderment ...

‘What, Nastasya Filippovna? Do you know Nastasya Filippovna, too?’ asked the general.

‘Yes; only twenty-four hours in Russia and I know a great beauty like her,’ replied the prince, and at once told them about his meeting with Rogozhin, retelling his entire story.

‘This is news, indeed!’ the general began to worry again, having listened to the story with extreme attention, and giving Ganya a searching look.

‘Probably just some disreputable caper,’ muttered Ganya, whose composure was also somewhat ruffled. ‘A merchant’s son on the spree. I’ve already heard something about him.’

‘And so have I, brother,’ the general broke in. ‘That day, after the earrings, Nastasya Filippovna told me the whole incident. But you know, it’s a different matter now. We really are talking of perhaps a million here, and ... passion, grotesque passion, admittedly, but there is a whiff of passion all the same, and, after all, we know what these gentlemen are capable of when they’re in a state of complete intoxication! ... Hmm! ... I hope there won’t be an “incident”!’ the general concluded reflectively.

‘Are you worried about the million?’ Ganya grinned.

‘You’re not, of course?’

‘How did he seem to you, Prince?’ Ganya said, suddenly addressing him. ‘What is he, a serious man or just a ruffian? Your personal opinion?’

Something strange took place in Ganya as he asked this question. It was as though some new and strange idea began to burn in h
is brain, glittering impatiently in his eyes. As for the general, who was seriously and genuinely troubled, he also gave the prince a sidelong glance, but as though he did not expect much from his reply.

‘I don’t know how to put it,’ the prince replied, ‘but it seemed to me that there was a lot of passion in him, and even a kind of morbid passion. And he also seems to be quite ill. It may very well be that he’ll take to his bed again in his first few days in St Petersburg, especially if he starts drinking.’

‘Really? Was that what you thought?’

‘Yes, I did.’

‘And in any case, that kind of scandal could take place this very evening, never mind in a few days’ time. Perhaps something will happen tonight,’ Ganya said, smiling crookedly at the general.

‘Hmm! ... Of course ... In a way it all depends on what passes through her head,’ said the general.

‘And after all, you know what she can be like sometimes, don’t you?’

‘What on earth are you trying to say?’ the general blurted out again, having now reached an extreme point of agitation. ‘Listen, Ganya, please don’t contradict her too much today and try, you know, to be ... in short, to get along with her ... Hmm! ... Why are you twisting your mouth like that? Listen, Gavrila Ardalionovich, this may be a good opportunity, a very good opportunity, to say to you now: why are we going to all this trouble? You understand that as far as my personal advantage, which is involved here, goes, it has long ago been secured; one way or another, I shall resolve this matter in my favour. Totsky has taken his decision and will stand by it, of that I am quite certain. And so if I desire anything now, it is only your own good interests. Judge for yourself; what’s the matter, don’t you trust me? Besides, you’re a man ... a man ... in a word, an intelligent man and I have placed my trust in you ... and in the present situation that’s ... that’s ...’

‘That’s the main thing,’ Ganya said, completing the sentence, once again helping the flabbergasted general, and twisting his lips into the most poisonous smile, which he no longer tried to conceal. With his inflamed gaze he stared the general straight in the face, as if in his eyes he wanted him to read everything he was thinking. The general turned crimson with anger, and blazed up.

‘Well yes, intelligence is the main thing!’ he assented, looking sharply at Ganya. ‘And you’re a ridiculous fellow, Gavrila Ardalionych! I mean, I can’t help noticing that you’re simply glad of this merchant chap as a way out for yourself. Well, this is where intelligence should have been used right from the start; this is where you should have understood and ... and dealt honestly and plainly with both sides, or else ... given advance warning so as not to compromise others, particularly as there was enough time to do so, and there remains enough time even now (the general raised his eyebrows meaningfully), even though it’s only a few hours ... Do you understand? Do you? Are you willing to go through with
it or not? If not, say so, and - that will be all right! No one is holding you back, Gavrila Ardalionych, no one is luring you into a trap, if a trap is what you see here.’

‘I’m willing to go through with it,’ Ganya said in a low but firm voice, dropping his gaze and lapsing into gloomy silence.

The general was satisfied. The general had lost his temper, but evidently felt remorse at having gone too far. He suddenly turned to the prince and his face seemed traversed by the uneasy thought that the prince was there and had heard everything. He was, however, instantly reassured: one look at the prince was enough to entirely reassure him.

‘Oho!’ the general exclaimed, looking at the specimen of calligraphy the prince was presenting. ‘Now there’s a sample for you! And a rare one, too! Come and take a look, Ganya, what talent!’

On a thick sheet of vellum the prince had written in medieval Russian script: ‘The humble Abbot Pafnuty hath signed this with his hand.’

‘Now this,’ the prince explained with great delight and enthusiasm, ‘this is the personal signature of the Abbot Pafnuty, from a fourteenth-century copy. They had magnificent signatures, all those old abbots and metropolitans of ours, and sometimes wrote them with such taste, such diligence! You must have Pogodin’s edition, at least, general? Then here I’ve written in a different script: this is a large round French script of the last century, some letters were even written differently, a script of the market place, a script of the public scribes, adapted from their samples (I used to own one) — you’ll agree that it’s not without its merits. Look at those round d’s and a’s. I’ve transferred the French style to the Russian letters, which is very difficult, but it’s worked out well. Here is another fine, original script, in this sentence: “Hard work conquers all.”
¹
This is a Russian script, used by clerks, or possibly military clerks. It was used to write official memos to persons of importance, and it’s also a round script, a wonderful
black
script, written in black but with remarkable taste. A calligraphist would not allow those flourishes or, rather, those attempts at flourishes, those unfinished half-tails - you will observe - but taken as a whole, look, it makes their character, and truly, the very soul of the military clerk peeps out: it would like to break loose, and the talent is there; but the military collar is tightly buttoned, the discipline has come out in the script, too, delightful! I was struck by a sample of this kind not long ago, found it by chance, and where do you suppose? In Switzerland! Well, and this is a plain, ordinary English script: elegance can go no further, here all is charm, beads, pearls; it’s quite perfect; but here’s a variation, and again a French one, I copied it from a travelling French
commis:
²
the same English script, but the black line a touch blacker and thicker than in the English one - and the proportion of light has been destroyed; and observe also: the oval has been changed, a touch rounder, and in addition a flourish has been permitted, but flourishes are a most dangerous thing! Flourishes demand unusual taste; but if they succeed, if the proportion is foun
d, then a script like that is not to be compared with any other, so much so that one may even fall in love with it.’

‘Oho! What subtleties you’re entering into,’ laughed the general, ‘but you, sir, are not merely a calligrapher, you’re an artist, eh, Ganya?’

‘Astonishing,’ said Ganya, ‘And even with an awareness of his calling,’ he added, laughing sarcastically.

‘Laugh, laugh, but I’ll tell you, there’s a career in this,’ said the general. ‘Do you know how important the person is, the one we shall give you memos to write to? Why, you can count on earning thirty-five roubles a month, from your very first step. But it’s already half-past twelve,’ he concluded, glancing at his watch. ‘To business, Prince, for I must hurry, and you and I may not meet again today! Sit down for a moment; I have already explained to you that I am not in a position to meet you very often; but I sincerely wish to help you a little, a little, of course, that’s to say in the form of the most necessary things, and after that you shall do as you please. I’ll give you a little job in the office, not a very demanding one, but it will require accuracy. Now, sir, as regards the rest; at the house, in the household of Gavrila Ardalionych Ivolgin, that is, this same young friend of mine to whom I should like to introduce you, his mother and sister have prepared two or three furnished rooms in their apartments, which they rent out to highly recommended tenants, with meals and a maid. I am sure that Nina Alexandrovna will accept my recommendation. And for you, Prince, this will be more than precious, above all because you won’t be alone, but, so to speak, in the bosom of a family, for in my view it is out of the question for you to find yourself alone on your first steps in a capital city such as St Petersburg. Nina Alexandrovna, the mother, and Varvara Ardalionovna, Gavrila Ardalionych’s sister, are ladies for whom I have the greatest respect. Nina Alexandrovna is the wife of Ardalion Alexandrovich, a retired general, a former comrade of mine from my early army days, but with whom, because of certain circumstances, I have severed relations: which does not, however, prevent me from respecting him in my own way. I am explaining all this to you, Prince, so that you realize that I am, so to speak, recommending you personally, and consequently, as it were, taking responsibility for you. The rent is extremely modest, and I hope that your salary will soon be quite sufficient for it. To be sure, a man also needs pocket money, even if just a little, but please don’t be angry, Prince, if I observe to you that you would do better to avoid pocket money, and indeed any kind of money, in your pocket. I say this after having taken a look at you. But since at present your purse is absolutely empty, then, as a beginning, permit me to offer you these twenty-five roubles. We’ll settle up later on, of course, and if you’re the sincere and straightforward man you seem to be from the way you talk, there can be no problems between us there. As for my taking such an interest in you, I actually have a certain purpose in your regard; you will learn about it subsequen
tly. You see, I’m being perfectly open with you; Ganya, I hope you have nothing against the prince being lodged in your apartment?’