The Idiot (57 page)

The prince gazed at Keller with intense interest. The question of double thoughts had evidently been occupying him for a long time now.

‘Well, how they can call you an idiot after that, I don’t understand!’

The prince blushed slightly.

‘The preacher Bourdaloue, well, he wouldn’t have spared a man, but you’ve spared a man and judged me like a human being! To punish myself and in order to show that I’m touched, I won’t ask for a hundred and fifty roubles, just give me twenty-five, and leave it at that! That’s all I need, at least for two weeks. Until two weeks are up I won’
t come asking again. I wanted to spoil Agashka a little, but she doesn’t deserve it. Oh, dear Prince, may the Lord bless you!’

At last Lebedev came in, having just returned home, and, noticing the twenty-five rouble note in Keller’s hands, frowned. But Keller, finding himself with money again, was already hurrying away, and immediately disappeared. Lebedev at once began to malign him behind his back.

‘You’re unjust, he really was genuinely repentant,’ the prince observed, at last.

‘But what is there in his repentance? It’s just like yesterday: “I’m vile, vile,” but it’s all just words, sir!’

‘So it was all merely words with you? And I was beginning to think ...’

‘Well, to you, only to you, I’ll tell the truth, because you can see through a man: words and actions, falsehood and truth - they’ re all in me together, and quite sincerely. For me truth and actions are part of my genuine repentance, believe it or not, but I swear it is so, while words and falsehood constitute the devilish (and ever present) thought of how to get the better of a man, how to gain an advantage, as it were, by means of tears! It honestly is so! I wouldn’t tell anyone else, they’d laugh, or spit in my face, but you, Prince, you will judge me like a human being.’

‘Well, that’s it, exactly what he was telling me just now,’ the prince exclaimed, ‘and you both seem to boast of it! You even astonish me, except that he is more sincere than you, while you have turned it into a regular craft. Well, that will do, don’t frown, Lebedev, and don’t put your hand on your heart. Haven’t you anything to say to me? You wouldn’t come to see me for no reason ...’

Lebedev began to cringe and grovel.

‘I’ve waited all day to ask you one question; just answer with the truth for once in your life, right from the first word: did you play any part in that carriage business yesterday?’

Lebedev again began to cringe, giggled, rubbed his hands, and even, at last, sneezed several times, but was still unable to bring himself to say anything.

‘I see that you did.’

‘But obliquely, only obliquely! I speak the whole truth! I only took part by letting a certain lady know beforehand that a certain company had gathered at my house and that certain persons were present.’

‘I know that you sent your son
there,
he himself told me earlier, but what is all this intrigue?’ the prince exclaimed in impatience.

‘It’s not mine, the intrigue, not mine,’ Lebedev warded him off. ‘There are others, others, here, and it’s more fantasy, so to speak, than intrigue.’

‘But what is it all about then, explain, for God’s sake, can’t you? Don’t you understand that this concerns me directly? I mean, Yevgeny Pavlovich’s name is being blackened here.’

‘Prince! Most illustrious Prince!’ Lebedev began to grovel again. ‘Why, you won’t allow me to tell the whole truth; I mean, I’
ve already started to tell you about the truth; several times; you wouldn’t allow me to continue ...’

The prince was silent and thought for a bit.

‘Well, all right; tell the truth,’ he said heavily, evidently after a major struggle.

‘Aglaya Ivanovna ...’ Lebedev began at once.

‘Be quiet, be quiet!’ the prince shouted violently, red all over with indignation, and perhaps also with shame. ‘That is impossible, that’s all nonsense! You’ve thought it all up yourself, or madmen like you have. I never want to hear about it from you again!’

Late in the evening, towards eleven o‘clock, Kolya appeared with a veritable mountain of news. The news was of two kinds, and concerned St Petersburg and Pavlovsk. He hurriedly related the most important of the St Petersburg news (mostly about Ippolit and the incident of the previous day), with the intention of returning to it later, and quickly went on to the Pavlovsk news. Three hours earlier he had returned home from St Petersburg and, not calling on the prince, had set straight off for the Yepanchins. ‘Things are dreadful over there!’ Of course, the carriage business had pride of place, but something of that kind must probably also have happened, something that was unknown to him and the prince. ‘I didn’t go spying, of course, and I didn’t want to question anyone; however, they received me well, so well that I really didn’t expect it; but about you, Prince, there was not a word!’ Most important and interesting of all was that Aglaya had earlier quarrelled with her family about Ganya. What the details of the matter were he did not know, but it was about Ganya (imagine that!), and the quarrel was indeed a terrible one, so it must have been something important. The general had arrived late, had arrived frowning, had arrived with Yevgeny Pavlovich, who received a magnificent reception, and Yevgeny Pavlovich himself was remarkably cheerful and charming. The news of principal importance was that Lizaveta Prokofyevna, without further ado, had summoned Varvara Ardalionovna, who was sitting with the girls, and turned her out of the house once and for all, though in the most polite manner - ‘I heard it from Varya herself.’ But when Varya came out from Lizaveta Prokofyevna and said goodbye to the girls, they did not even know that she had been shown the door once and for all and that she was saying goodbye to them for the last time.

‘But Varvara Ardalionovna came to see me at seven o’clock!’ the prince said with astonishment.

‘She was turned out after eight, or shortly before that. I’m very sorry for Varya, sorry for Ganya ... they certainly have perpetual intrigues, they can’t get by without them. And I was never able to find out what they were thinking up, and I don’t want to. But I assure you, my dear, good Prince, that Ganya has a heart. He is a man who is in many respects a wreck, but in many respects he has qualities that are worth looking for, and I shall never forgive myself for not having understood him before ... I don’t kno
w if I should continue now, after the episode with Varya. To be sure, I took a completely independent and separate position right from the beginning, but even so, it needs thought.’ ‘You shouldn’t feel too sorry for your brother,’ the prince observed to him. ‘If matters have gone that far, Gavrila Ardalionovich must be dangerous in Lizaveta Prokofyevna’s eyes, and thus certain hopes of his are being confirmed.’ ‘What? What hopes?’ Kolya exclaimed in amazement. ‘You don’t really think that Aglaya ... it isn’t possible!’

The prince was silent.

‘You are a dreadful sceptic, Prince,’ Kolya added some two minutes later. ‘I’ve noticed for some time now that you’re becoming an extreme sceptic; you’re starting not to believe anything and to suppose everything ... I say, am I right to use the word “sceptic” in this connection?’

‘I think so, though as a matter of fact I myself don’t know for certain.’

‘But I’ll renounce the word “sceptic”, for I’ve found another explanation,’ Kolya shouted suddenly. ‘You’re not a sceptic, you’re jealous! You’re infernally jealous of Ganya over a certain proud girl!’

Saying this, Kolya jumped up and roared with laughter as he had perhaps never succeeded in laughing before. Seeing the prince blush all over, Kolya began to laugh even louder; he found the idea that the prince was jealous about Aglaya immensely appealing, but fell silent at once when he observed that the prince was genuinely upset. After that they continued to talk, with great seriousness and concern, for another hour or hour and a half.

Next day the prince spent the whole morning in St Petersburg on a certain piece of urgent business. Returning to Pavlovsk between four and five in the afternoon, he encountered Ivan Fyodorovich in the railway station. Ivan Fyodorovich seized him by the arm, looked around him as if in fear, and took the prince with him into a first-class carriage, so that they could travel together. He was burning with a desire to discuss some important matter.

‘In the first place, dear Prince, don’t be angry with me, and if there’s been anything on my part - forget it. I would have come to see you yesterday, but didn’t know how Lizaveta Prokofyevna would view it ... My home is ... sheer hell, an enigmatic sphinx has moved in, and I wander about and understand nothing. But as for you, you are less to blame than any of us, although, of course, much has happened because of you. You see, Prince, it’s pleasant to be a philanthropist, but not very much so. You yourself have already tasted the fruits, perhaps. Of course, I love kindness, and respect Lizaveta Prokofyevna, but...’

The general continued for a long time in this vein, but his words were remarkably incoherent. It was evident that he was exceedingly shaken and upset by something incomprehensible to him in the extreme.

‘For me there is no doubt that you are not involved in this,’ he managed to get out, at last, more clearly. ‘But please don’t visit us for a time, I ask you as a friend, until the wind has changed. As for Yev
geny Pavlych,’ he exclaimed with extraordinary fervour, ‘that is all senseless slander, a slander of slanders! It’s a plot, there’s an intrigue there, a desire to destroy everything and make us fall out. Look, Prince, let me say this in your ear: not a single word has yet passed between Yevgeny Pavlych and myself, do you understand? We’re not associated in any way - but that word may be spoken, and even soon and even, perhaps, very soon! Just to cause harm! But as for why, for what reason - I don’t understand! An astonishing woman, an eccentric woman, I’m so afraid of her that I can hardly sleep. And such a carriage, with white horses, I mean, it’s
chic,
it’s exactly what the French call
chic
! Who gave her that carriage? My God, I must confess that the other day I thought it must be Yevgeny Pavlych! But it turns out that that couldn’t have been, and if that is so, then why does she want to upset things here? That, that is the question! To keep Yevgeny Pavlych with her? But I repeat to you, and I will swear to you by all the saints, that he doesn’t know her and that those promissory notes are a fabrication! And how brazenly she shouts to him across the street in that familiar way! The purest conspiracy! It’s clear that it must be repudiated with contempt, and our respect for Yevgeny Pavlych be redoubled. That’s how I put it to Lizaveta Prokofyevna. Now I will tell you my most intimate thought: I am stubbornly convinced that she did it to take personal revenge on me, you remember, for things that happened before, though I was never guilty before her in anything. The mere memory makes me blush. Now she’s appeared again, just when I thought she’d vanished for ever. But where is that Rogozhin, can you tell me, please? I thought she’d become Mrs Rogozhin long ago ...’

In short, the man was thoroughly bewildered. For almost the whole hour of the journey he alone had spoken, asked questions, answered them himself, shaken the prince’s hand, and at least convinced the prince of one thing, that he did not suspect him of anything. That was important for the prince. He concluded with a story about Yevgeny Pavlych’s uncle, the head of some chancellery in St Petersburg - ‘in an important post, seventy years old, a
bon viveur,
a gourmet, and in general a susceptible old fellow ... Ha! ha! I know he had heard about Nastasya Filippovna and was even trying to see her. I dropped in on him earlier; he wasn’t receiving, is unwell, but rich, rich, he’s important and ... may God let him prosper for many years, but once again it’s Yevgeny Pavlych who gets everything ... Yes, yes ... but I’m still afraid! I don’t know what I’m afraid of, but I’m afraid ... It’s as though there were something in the air, like a bat, trouble is on the wing, and I’m afraid, afraid! ...’

And, at last, three days later, as we mentioned above, the formal reconciliation between the Yepanchins and Prince Lev Nikolayevich took place.

It was seven o’clock in the evening; the prince was about to go for a walk in the park. Suddenly Lizaveta Prokofyevna came to see him on the veranda.

‘In the first place,
don’t even dare to think,’ she began, ‘that I’ve come to see you in order to apologize. Rubbish! You’re to blame all round.’

The prince was silent.

‘Are you to blame or not?’

‘As much as you are. However, neither I nor you are guilty of anything intentional. The other day I thought I was to blame, but I’ve now decided that I’m not.’

‘So that’s the way it is, is it? Well, all right; then listen and sit down, for I don’t intend to stand.’

They both sat down.

‘In the second place:
not a word about the spiteful urchins! I’ll sit and talk to you for ten minutes; I came to see you in order to make an inquiry (goodness knows what you thought I wanted!), but if you so much as utter one word about those impudent cheeky urchins I shall get up and go away, and then break off with you altogether.’

‘Very well,’ replied the prince.

‘Now, permit me to ask you: did you, about two or two and half months ago, around Easter, send Aglaya a letter?’

‘I d-did.’

‘Whatever for? What was in the letter? Show it to me!’

Lizaveta Prokofyevna’s eyes were burning; she was almost quivering with impatience.

‘I haven’t got the letter,’ the prince said in surprise, growing horribly timid. ‘If it’s still intact, Aglaya Ivanovna has it.’

‘Don’t play games! What did you write about?’

‘I’m not playing games, I’m not afraid of anything. I see no reason why I shouldn’t write ...’

‘Be quiet! You’ll speak afterwards. What was in the letter? Why did you blush?’

The prince thought for a moment.

‘I don’t know what’s in your thoughts, Lizaveta Prokofyevna. I see only that you find this letter upsetting. You will agree that I could refuse to answer such a question; but in order to show you that I’m not afraid with regard to the letter, do not regret having written it, and am certainly not blushing because of it (the prince blushed almost twice as red as before), I’ll read you the letter, because I think I can remember it by heart.’