The Idiot (58 page)

So saying, the prince quoted the letter almost word for word.

‘What a rigmarole! What’s that nonsense supposed to mean, in your opinion?’ Lizaveta Prokofyevna asked sharply, having listened to the letter with extraordinary attention.

‘I don’t really know, altogether; I know that my feelings were genuine. I had moments of being completely alive, and extraordinary hopes.’

‘What sort of hopes?’

‘It’s hard to explain, only they weren’t the kind of hopes you’re thinking of now, perhaps ... well, in short, they were hopes for the future and joy in the fact that perhaps I wasn’t an alien
there,
not a foreigner. I was suddenly very pleased to be back in my native land. One sunny morning I picked up a pen and wrote her a letter; why to her, I don’t know. I mean, sometimes one wants to have a friend beside one; and I suppose I felt like having a friend there ...’ the prince added, after a silence.

‘Are you in love, then?’

‘N-no. I ... I wrote to her as to a sister; I even signed myself as a brother.’

‘Hmmm; on purpose; I understand.’

‘It’s very hard for me to reply to these questions of yours, Lizaveta Prokofyevna.’

‘I know it’s hard, but I really don’t care. Listen, tell me the truth, before God; are you lying to me or are you not?’

‘I’m not.’

‘Are you telling the truth when you say that you’re not in love?’

‘I think I’m telling the complete truth.’

‘Listen to him: “I think”! Did the urchin deliver it?’

‘I asked Nikolai Ardalionovich ...’

‘The urchin! The urchin!’ Lizaveta Prokofyevna interrupted heatedly. ‘I don’t know of any Nikolai Ardalionovich around here! The urchin!’

‘Nikolai Ardalionovich ...’

‘The urchin, I tell you!’

‘No, he’s not an urchin, he’s Nikolai Ardalionovich,’ the prince replied at last, firmly though rather quietly.

‘Oh, very well, dear man, very well! I shall hold you to account for this.’

For a moment she tried to overcome her agitation, and relaxed.

‘And what’s the “poor knight”?’

‘I really don’t know; I wasn’t there; it was some sort of joke.’

‘That’s a nice thing to discover all of a sudden! But could she really have been interested in you? She called you a “little freak” and an “idiot”.’

‘You might not have told me that,’ the prince observed reproachfully, almost in a whisper.

‘Don’t be angry. She’s a despotic, crazy, spoilt girl - if she falls in love with a man, she’ll be sure to call him names out loud and mock him to his face; I was just the same. Only don’t go preening yourself, my good man, she’s not yours; I can’t believe it, and it will never be! I’m telling you so that you can take the necessary steps. Look here, I want you to swear that you’re not married to
that woman.’

‘Lizaveta Prokofyevna, what are you saying, for pity’s sake?’ the prince nearly leaped to his feet in amazement.

‘But you almost married her, didn’t you?’

‘Yes, I almost did,’ whispered the prince, hanging his head.

‘Well, are you in love with
her
then, if that is so? Is that why you’re here now? For that woman?’

‘I haven’t come here to get married,’ replied the prince.

‘Is there anything you hold sacred in the world?’

‘Yes, there is.’

‘Swear that you didn’t come here in order to marry
that woman.’

‘I’ll swear on anything you like!’

‘I believe you; you may give me a kiss. At last I can breathe freely again; but know this: Aglaya doesn’t love you, you must take the necessary steps, and she will not marry you as long as I live! Do you hear?’

‘I hear.’

The prince was blushing so much that he could not look Lizaveta Prokofyevna straight in the face.

‘Don’t forget it, then. I have waited for you as if you were Providence (you weren’t worth it!), I have soaked my pillow with tears at night - not about you, dear man, don’t worry, I have my own sorrow, another, eternal and always the same. But that’s why I’ve been waiting for you with such impatience: I still believe that God himself has sent you to me as a friend, and as a kindred brother. I have no one to turn to except old Princess Bolokonskaya, and she too has flown away, and has also become as silly as a sheep in her old age. Now just reply
yes
or
no:
do you know why
she
shouted from her carriage the other day?’

‘On my word of honour, I had no part in it and don’t know anything!’

‘Enough, I believe you. Now I have other thoughts about this, but even yesterday, in the morning, I was blaming Yevgeny Pavlych for it all. Yesterday morning and the whole of the day before. Now, of course, I can’t help agreeing with them: obviously they were making fun of him, as if he were a fool, for some reason, because of something, for some purpose (that alone is suspicious! And it won’t do, either!) - but Aglaya is not going to marry him, I tell you that! He may be a good man, but that is how it is going to be. I hesitated earlier, but now I’ve decided: “Put me in my coffin first and bury me in the ground, then marry off my daughter.” That’s what I snapped at Ivan Fyodorovich today. You see, I trust you, you see?’

‘I see and understand.’

Lizaveta Prokofyevna scrutinized the prince with a penetrating gaze; it was possible that she very much wanted to know what impression the news about Yevgeny Pavlych had made on him.

‘You don’t know anything about Gavrila Ivolgin?’

‘Well ... I know a great deal.’

‘Did you know that he sees Aglaya?’

‘I didn’t know that at all,’ the prince said in surprise, and even with a start. ‘What, you say that Gavrila Ardalionovich sees Aglaya Ivanovna? It cannot be!’

‘It’s very recent. His sister has been clearing the way for him here all winter, working like a rat.’

‘I don’t believe it,’ the prince repeated firmly after some reflection and excitement. ‘If that had been so I would have certainly known about it.’

‘You don’t think he would have come and confessed on your bosom in tears, do you? Oh, you simpleton, simpleton! Everyone deceives you, like ... like ... And aren’t you ashamed to confide in him? Don’t you see that he has swindled you all round?’

‘I know very well that he sometimes deceives me,’ the prince said reluctantly, in an undertone, ‘and he knows that I know ...’ he added, without finishing his sentence.

‘You know and confide in him! That’s all I needed to hear! However, that’s how it’s bound to be with you. And why should I be surprised, in any case? Merciful Lord! Has there ever been a man like you? Fie upon you! And do you know that this Ganka, or this Varka, has put her in contact with Nastasya Filippovna?’

‘Who?’ exclaimed the prince.

‘Aglaya.’

‘I don’t believe it! It cannot be! What on earth for?’

He leaped up from the chair.

‘I don’t believe it either, though there is evidence. A self-willed girl, a fantastical girl, a crazy girl! A wicked, wicked, wicked girl! I’ll go on saying it for a thousand years, that she’s wicked! All my girls are like that now, even that wet hen Alexandra, but this one has really got out of hand. But I don’t believe it either! Perhaps because I don’t want to believe it,’ she added, as if to herself. ‘Why haven’t you come to see me?’ she suddenly turned to the prince again. ‘You haven’t been to see me for a whole three days!’ she shouted at him again, a second time.

The prince began to tell her his reasons, but she again broke in.

‘They all think you’re a fool, and they deceive you! You went to town yesterday; I bet you got down on your knees and begged that scoundrel to accept your ten thousand!’

‘Not at all, I didn’t think of it. I didn’t even see him and, what’s more, he’s not a scoundrel. I’ve had a letter from him.’

‘Show me the letter!’

The prince retrieved a note from his briefcase and gave it to Lizaveta Prokofyevna. The note said:

‘What a blockhead!’ Lizaveta Prokofyevna concluded, throwing the note back. ‘It’s not worth reading. What are you smirking at?’

‘You must admit that you also enjoyed reading it.’

‘What? That rigmarole, eaten away with vanity! But don’t you see that they’ve all gone off their heads with pride and vanity?’

‘Yes, but all the same he’s confessed, broken with Doktorenko, and there’s even the fact that that the vainer he is, the more his vanity has cost him. Oh, what a child you are, Lizaveta Prokofyevna!’

‘Do you plan to receive a slap in the face from me, at last?’

‘No, not at all. Because you’re pleased about the note, but you’re hiding it. Why are you ashamed of your feelings? I mean, you’re like that in everything.’

‘Don’t ever dare to cross my threshold,’ Lizaveta Prokofyevna leaped up, pale with anger. ‘I never want you to set foot in my house again from now on!’

‘And in three days’ time you’ll come and invite me to your house ... Don’t you feel embarrassed? Those are your best feelings, why are you ashamed of them? I mean, you’re only tormenting yourself.’

‘I’ll invite you over my dead body! I’ll forget your name! I’
ve forgotten it!’

She stormed away from the prince.

‘I’ve already been forbidden to visit you!’ the prince cried after her.

‘Wha-at? Who forbade you?’

She turned round instantly, as though she had been stabbed with a needle. The prince hesitated with his reply; he felt he had inadvertently, but badly, let the cat out of the bag.

‘Who has forbidden you?’ Lizaveta Prokofyevna cried furiously.

‘Aglaya Ivanovna ...’

‘When? Spe-e-ak can’t you?’

‘She sent this morning to tell me never to dare to go and visit you.’

Lizaveta Prokofyevna stood as if turned to stone, but she was putting two and two together.

‘What did she send? Whom did she send? Was it the urchin? By word of mouth?’ she suddenly exclaimed again.

‘I received a note,’ said the prince.

‘Where? Give it to me! At once!’

The prince thought for a moment, but then produced from his waistcoat pocket a careless scrap of paper, on which was written:

‘Prince Lev Nikolayevich! If, after all that has passed, you intend to surprise me with a visit to our dacha, then be assured that you will not find me among those who are pleased. Aglaya Yepanchina.’

Lizaveta Prokofyevna reflected for a moment; then she suddenly rushed over to the prince, seized him by the arm and hauled him off with her.

‘At once! Come along! We must go at once, this very minute!’ she exclaimed in an extraordinary fit of agitation and impatience.

‘But you’re subjecting me to ...’

‘To what? Innocent simpleton! Even as though you weren’t a man at all! Well, now I shall see it all with my own eyes ...’

‘At least let me get my hat ...’

‘Here is your atrocious little hat, come along! He couldn’t even choose a fashionable one with taste! ... She must have ... she must have done it after what happened this morning ... in a fever,’ muttered Lizaveta Prokofyevna, hauling the prince along behind her and not letting go of his arm for a moment. ‘I took your part this morning, said out loud you were a fool for not coming ... otherwise she wouldn’t have written you such a muddle-headed note! An unseemly note! Unseemly for a well-brought up, well-educated, clever, clever girl! ... Hmm,’ she continued, ‘of course she was vexed that you didn’t come, only she didn’t reckon with the fact that one can’t write such a thing to an idiot, because he’ll take it literally, and so it turned out. Don’t eavesdrop!’ she cried, realizing she had let the truth slip out. ‘She needs a clown like you, hasn’t seen one for a long time, that’s why she’s asking for you! And I’m glad, glad that now she’ll tear you to pieces! It’s what you deserve. And she knows how to do it, oh, how she knows!’

People are forever complaining that we have no practical men; that there are, for example, many politicians; also many generals; various kinds of managers, as many as one might require, may presently be found wherever one looks - but practical men there are none. At least, everyone complains that there are none. It is even said that on several railways there are no decent staff; it is not possible to find even halfway tolerable staff to run a steam company, it is said. There, one hears, on some newly opened railway, coaches have collided or gone plunging down a collapsed bridge; there, they write, a train almost spent the whole winter in the midst of a snowfield: it travelled for a few hours, but got stuck in the snow for five days. Here, it is related, many thousands of poods
¹
of merchandise are rotting in one place for two or three months, waiting to be dispatched, while there, it is said (though it is not even believed), an administrator, that is, some inspector or other, administered to some merchant’s clerk who came bothering him about the dispatch of his goods, not a dispatch but a blow to the jaw, and, moreover, explained his administrative action by the fact that he had ‘got a bit worked up’. There seem to be so many offices in the civil service that it is even terrifying to think of it; everyone has served, everyone is serving, everyone plans to serve - so why then, given such material, is it impossible to find decent staff to run a steam company?