The Idiot (68 page)

‘It’s probably that in the twelfth century monks were all there was to eat, because only monks were fat,’ observed Gavrila Ardalionovich.

‘A most splendid and most accurate perception!’ cried Lebedev. ‘For he never laid a finger on lay persons. Not a single lay person, as against sixty ecclesiastics, and that is a terrible thought, a historical thought, a statistical thought, indeed, and it is from such facts that history is built for those in the know; for it may be concluded with numerical precision that ecclesiastics were at least sixty times happier and freer than the rest of mankind then. And were, perhaps, sixty times fatter than the whole of the rest
of mankind ...’

‘An exaggeration, an exaggeration, Lebedev!’ they laughed all around.

‘I agree that it’s a historical thought, but what are you leading up to?’ the prince continued to inquire. (He spoke with such seriousness and such an absence of any kind of joking or fun poked at Lebedev, at whom everyone was laughing, that his tone unwittingly became comical when set against the tone of the rest of the company; a little more of it and they would have started to make fun of him too, but he did not notice this.)

‘Can’t you see that the fellow’s insane, Prince?’ Yevgeny Pavlovich leaned over to him. ‘They told me here earlier that he’s lost his wits over the matter of being a lawyer and making lawyer’s speeches, and that he wants to take the law exam. I expect he’ll produce a wonderful parody.’

‘What I’m leading up to is a an earth-shattering conclusion,’ Lebedev was thundering, meanwhile. ‘But first of all let us examine the psychological and legal position of the accused. We see that the accused, or, so to speak, my client, in spite of all the impossibility of finding any other edible object, several times in the course of his curious career revealed a desire to repent, and declined to consume ecclesiastics. We see this clearly from the facts: it is mentioned that he did indeed eat five or six infants, a relatively trifling figure, but none the less significant in another respect. It is evident that, tormented by terrible pangs of conscience (for my
client is a religious and conscientious man, as I shall prove), and in order to reduce his sin as much as possible, as a kind of experiment, on six occasions he exchanged his monkish diet for secular fare. That this was a kind of experiment is again beyond doubt; for had it been merely for the sake of gastronomic variety, the figure of six would have been too trifling: why only six, and not thirty? (I am taking it half and half.) But if it was only an experiment, conducted out of sheer despair in the face of blasphemy and ecclesiastical outrage, then the figure of six becomes all too comprehensible; for six experiments, in order to satisfy the pangs of conscience, would be more than sufficient, as the experiments could not possibly be successful, after all. And then, in the first place, as I perceive it, an infant is too small, that’s to say, not large enough in size, as over a certain period of time the number of lay infants would have to be three, nay, five times greater than the number of monks, so that the sin, if it were reduced on the one hand, would at last be increased on the other, if not in the matter of quality, then in the matter of quantity. In arguing thus, gentlemen, I do, of course, descend into the heart of a twelfth-century criminal. Where I myself, a man of the nineteenth century, am concerned, I should argue differently, I would have you know, so there is no need for you to grin at me, gentlemen, and as for you, General, it’s actually quite unseemly. In the second place, an infant, in my personal view, is not nutritious, perhaps even too sweet and sickly, so that, while not satisfying one’s hunger, it leaves only pangs of conscience. Now the conclusion, the finale, gentlemen, the finale, in which is contained the solution of one of the greatest questions of those bygone days and of our own! The criminal ends up denouncing himself to the clerics and consigning himself to the hands of the government. The question is, what torments awaited him in those days, what wheels, what stakes and bonfires? For who was it who impelled him to denounce himself? Why not simply stop at the figure of sixty, preserving the secret to his last breath? Why not simply give up monks, and live in repentance as a hermit? Why not, indeed, become a monk himself? Now there is the solution! So there must have been something more powerful than stakes and bonfires, more powerful even than the habit of twenty years! There must have been an idea more powerful than all the disasters, crop failures, tortures, plagues, leprosy and all the hell that mankind would not have been able to endure without that one idea that bound and directed the heart and fructified the springs of life! Show me anything resembling such a power in our age of seaminess and railways ... what I ought to say is steam engines and railways, but I say seaminess and railways, for I am drunk but tell the truth! Show me an idea that binds the mankind of today with even half the power there was in those centuries. And then you have the effrontery to tell me that the springs of life have not been weakened, been polluted under this “star”, this net that has entangled human beings. And do not try to intimidate me with your prosperity, your wealth, the infrequency of famine and the swiftness of the paths
of communication ! The wealth is greater, but the power is less; there is no binding idea left; everything has grown soft, everything has stewed to mush! We have all stewed to mush, all, all of us! ... But enough, we’re not concerned with that now, but with the circumstance, most worthy and respected Prince, that we should, shouldn’t we, see to the
zakuski
that have been prepared for the guests?’

Lebedev, who had almost brought some of his listeners to the point of genuine indignation (it should be observed that bottles were being opened ceaselessly all the while), instantly reconciled all his opponents by this unexpected conclusion to his speech. He himself called such a conclusion ‘a skilful lawyer’s twist to the case’. Cheerful laughter rose once more, the guests grew animated ; everyone got up from the table in order to stretch their limbs and stroll about the veranda. Only Keller found Lebedev’s speech not to his liking, and was in a state of extreme excitement.

‘He attacks enlightenment, he preaches the fanatical cruelty of the twelfth century, putting on airs, and not because he doesn’t know any better: where did he find the money to buy a house, may one ask?’ he said aloud, stopping all whom he encountered.

‘I’ve seen a real interpreter of Revelation,’ the general was saying in another corner to other listeners, among them Ptitsyn, whom he had buttonholed - ‘the late Grigory Semyonovich Burmistrov: now he was a man who, so to speak, set hearts on fire. To begin with he would put on his spectacles and open a large, ancient book in a black leather binding, well, and he also had a grey beard, and two decorations for charitable work. He would begin sternly and severely, generals bowed before him, and ladies fell into a swoon, well - and this chap ends with
zakuski!
I’ve heard a few things, but never anything like that!’

As he listened to the general, Ptitsyn smiled and seemed to be about to reach for his hat, but was apparently unable to make up his mind, or kept forgetting his intention. Even before the guests rose from the table, Ganya suddenly stopped drinking and pushed his glass away; an expression of gloom passed over his face. When the guests rose, he went over to Rogozhin and sat down beside him. One might have thought they were on the most friendly of terms. Rogozhin, who had initially also quietly been preparing to leave, was now sitting motionless, his head lowered and as if he too had forgotten that he had intended to go away. All that evening he had not had a single drop of wine, and was very pensive; from time to time he merely raised his eyes and surveyed everyone present. And now it appeared that he was waiting for something here, something extremely important for him, and had determined not to leave until then.

The prince had drunk only two or three glasses, and was merely cheerful. Half getting up from the table, he met Yevgeny Pavlovich’s gaze, remembered the talk they were going to have together, and smiled in friendly fashion. Yevgeny Pavlovich nodded to him and suddenl
y pointed to Ippolit, whom he was watching intently at that moment. Ippolit was asleep, stretched out on the sofa.

‘Tell me, why has this urchin wormed his way into your company, Prince?’ he said suddenly with such open annoyance, and even hatred, that it surprised the prince. ‘I’ll wager he’s up to no good!’

‘I’ve noticed,’ said the prince. ‘At least, you seem to be very interested in him today, Yevgeny Pavlych; am I right?’

‘And you may add: in my own particular circumstances I have enough to think about, so that I myself am surprised at not having been able to take my eyes off his loathsome physiognomy all evening!’

‘He has a handsome face ...’

‘There, there, look!’ cried Yevgeny Pavlovich, tugging the prince’s arm. ‘There! ...’

The prince again stared at Yevgeny Pavlovich in surprise.

Ippolit, who towards the end of Lebedev’s dissertation had suddenly fallen asleep on the sofa, now suddenly woke up, as though someone had nudged him in the side, shuddered, lifted himself on one elbow, looked about him and turned pale; in a kind of fear, even, he gazed around; but something almost like horror was expressed in his face when he remembered everything and put it all together.

‘What, they’re leaving? It’s over? Has the sun risen?’ he asked anxiously, seizing the prince’s arm. ‘What time is it? For God’s sake: the time? I overslept. Was I asleep for long?’ he added, with a look almost of despair, as though he had missed something on which, at the least, his entire fate depended.

‘You were asleep for seven or eight minutes,’ replied Yevgeny Pavlovich.

Ippolit gave him an avid glance and pondered for several moments.

‘Ah ... is that all! So I ...’

And he deeply and avidly drew breath, as though having cast off an extreme burden from himself. He had realized, at last, that nothing was ‘over’, that dawn had not yet broken, that the guests had risen from the table only for the
zakuski,
and that it was only Lebedev’s chatter that was at an end. He smiled, and a consumptive flush, in the form of two bright spots, began to play on his cheeks.

‘And you were actually counting the minutes I was asleep, Yevgeny Pavlych,’ he interjected mockingly, ‘you haven’t been able to tear yourself away from me all evening, I saw ... Ah! Rogozhin! I dreamt about him just now,’ he whispered to the prince, frowning and nodding at Rogozhin, who was sitting at the table. ‘Ah, yes,’ he suddenly veered off again, ‘where is the orator, where is Lebedev? So Lebedev has finished, has he? What was he talking about? Is it true, Prince, that you once said the world will be saved by beauty? Gentlemen,’ he cried loudly to them all, ‘the prince says that the world will be saved by beauty! But I say that he has such whimsical notions merely because he’s presently in love. Gentlemen, the prince is in love; earlier, as soon as he came in, I was convinced of that. Don’t blush, Prince, I shall feel sorry for you. What sort of beauty will save the world? Kolya told me about it ... Are you a zealous Christian? Kolya said you call yourself a Christian.’

The prince studied him attentively and did not reply to him.

‘Aren’t you going to reply to me? Perhaps you think I’m very fond of you?’ Ippolit added suddenly, as though he were venting his spleen.

‘No, I don’t think so. I know that you don’t like me.’

‘What? Even after yesterday? I was sincere with you yeste
rday, wasn’t I?’

‘Even yesterday I knew that you don’t like me.’

‘You mean, because I envy you, is that it, envy you? You’ve always thought that, and you think it now, but ... but why am I talking to you about this? I want some more champagne; pour

me some, Keller.’

‘You can’t have any more, Ippolit, I won’t let you ...’

And the prince moved the glass away from him.

‘Oh, very well, then ...’ he agreed at once, as though reflecting. ‘I suppose they’ll say ... but what the devil do I care what they’ll say? Don’t you think? Don’t you think? Let them say what they like afterwards, don’t you think, Prince? And what do any of us care what will happen
afterwards?
... However, I’m only half-awake. What a horrible dream I had, I’ve only remembered it now ... I don’t wish you such dreams, Prince, though perhaps I really don’t like you. As a matter of fact, if one doesn’t like someone, why wish him ill, don’t you think? Why do I keep asking questions, I’m constantly asking questions! Give me your hand; I shall shake it firmly, like this ... But you stretched out your hand to me, didn’t you? So you know that I’m shaking it sincerely ... I suppose I shan’t have any more to drink. What time is it? Actually, don’t bother, I know what time it is. It’s time! Now’s the time. What’s going on over there, are they serving
zakuski?
So that means this table is free? Splendid! Gentlemen, I ... but none of these gentlemen is listening ... I intend to read aloud a certain article, Prince; the
zakuski
are, of course, more interesting, but ...’

And suddenly, quite unexpectedly, he pulled from his top side pocket a large, official-sized package, stamped with a large red seal. He placed it on the table in front of him.

This unexpected event had an effect on the company, which was not primed for it or, rather, was
primed,
but not for that. Yevgeny Pavlovich even jumped upright in his chair; Ganya swiftly moved over to the table; Rogozhin too, but with a kind of peevish annoyance, as though he understood what was going on. Lebedev, who happened to be standing in the vicinity, approached with small, inquisitive eyes and looked at the package, trying to guess what was afoot.

‘What’s that you’ve got there?’ the prince asked, uneasily.

‘With the first rim of the sun I shall lie down, Prince, I told you; word of honour: you’ll see!’ exclaimed Ippolit, ‘but ... but ... do you really think I’m not capable of unsealing this package?’ he added, looking round with a kind of challenge and as if addressing them all indifferently. The prince noticed that he was trembling all over.