matter of great importance to myself.I should like to meet you tomorrow morning at seven o’clock by the greenbench in the park. It is not far from our house. Varvara Ardalionovna,who must accompany you, knows the place well.
“A. E.”
“What on earth is one to make of a girl like that?” said Varia.
Gania, little as he felt inclined for swagger at this moment, couldnot avoid showing his triumph, especially just after such humiliatingremarks as those of Hippolyte. A smile of self-satisfaction beamed onhis face, and Varia too was brimming over with delight.
“And this is the very day that they were to announce the engagement!What will she do next?”
“What do you suppose she wants to talk about tomorrow?” asked Gania.
“Oh, _that’s_ all the same! The chief thing is that she wants to see youafter six months’ absence. Look here, Gania, this is a _serious_ business.Don’t swagger again and lose the game--play carefully, but don’t funk,do you understand? As if she could possibly avoid seeing what I havebeen working for all this last six months! And just imagine, I was therethis morning and not a word of this! I was there, you know, on the sly.The old lady did not know, or she would have kicked me out. I ran somerisk for you, you see. I did so want to find out, at all hazards.”
Here there was a frantic noise upstairs once more; several people seemedto be rushing downstairs at once.
“Now, Gania,” cried Varia, frightened, “we can’t let him go out! Wecan’t afford to have a breath of scandal about the town at this moment.Run after him and beg his pardon--quick.”
But the father of the family was out in the road already. Colia wascarrying his bag for him; Nina Alexandrovna stood and cried on thedoorstep; she wanted to run after the general, but Ptitsin kept herback.
“You will only excite him more,” he said. “He has nowhere else to goto--he’ll be back here in half an hour. I’ve talked it all over withColia; let him play the fool a bit, it will do him good.”
“What are you up to? Where are you off to? You’ve nowhere to go to, youknow,” cried Gania, out of the window.
“Come back, father; the neighbours will hear!” cried Varia.
The general stopped, turned round, raised his hands and remarked: “Mycurse be upon this house!”
“Which observation should always be made in as theatrical a tone aspossible,” muttered Gania, shutting the window with a bang.
The neighbours undoubtedly did hear. Varia rushed out of the room.
No sooner had his sister left him alone, than Gania took the note out ofhis pocket, kissed it, and pirouetted around.
III.
As a general rule, old General Ivolgin’s paroxysms ended in smoke. Hehad before this experienced fits of sudden fury, but not very often,because he was really a man of peaceful and kindly disposition. He hadtried hundreds of times to overcome the dissolute habits which he hadcontracted of late years. He would suddenly remember that he was “afather,” would be reconciled with his wife, and shed genuine tears.His feeling for Nina Alexandrovna amounted almost to adoration; she hadpardoned so much in silence, and loved him still in spite of the stateof degradation into which he had fallen. But the general’s struggleswith his own weakness never lasted very long. He was, in his way, animpetuous man, and a quiet life of repentance in the bosom of his familysoon became insupportable to him. In the end he rebelled, and flew intorages which he regretted, perhaps, even as he gave way to them, butwhich were beyond his control. He picked quarrels with everyone,began to hold forth eloquently, exacted unlimited respect, and at lastdisappeared from the house, and sometimes did not return for a longtime. He had given up interfering in the affairs of his family fortwo years now, and knew nothing about them but what he gathered fromhearsay.
But on this occasion there was something more serious than usual.Everyone seemed to know something, but to be afraid to talk about it.
The general had turned up in the bosom of his family two or three daysbefore, but not, as usual, with the olive branch of peace in his hand,not in the garb of penitence--in which he was usually clad on suchoccasions--but, on the contrary, in an uncommonly bad temper. He hadarrived in a quarrelsome mood, pitching into everyone he came across,and talking about all sorts and kinds of subjects in the most unexpectedmanner, so that it was impossible to discover what it was that wasreally putting him out. At moments he would be apparently quite brightand happy; but as a rule he would sit moody and thoughtful. He wouldabruptly commence to hold forth about the Epanchins, about Lebedeff, orthe prince, and equally abruptly would stop short and refuse to speakanother word, answering all further questions with a stupid smile,unconscious that he was smiling, or that he had been asked a question.The whole of the previous night he had spent tossing about and groaning,and poor Nina Alexandrovna had been busy making cold compresses and warmfomentations and so on, without being very clear how to apply them. Hehad fallen asleep after a while, but not for long, and had awaked ina state of violent hypochondria which had ended in his quarrel withHippolyte, and the solemn cursing of Ptitsin’s establishment generally.It was also observed during those two or three days that he was in astate of morbid self-esteem, and was specially touchy on all points ofhonour. Colia insisted, in discussing the matter with his mother, thatall this was but the outcome of abstinence from drink, or perhaps ofpining after Lebedeff, with whom up to this time the general had beenupon terms of the greatest friendship; but with whom, for some reasonor other, he had quarrelled a few days since, parting from him in greatwrath. There had also been a scene with the prince. Colia had asked anexplanation of the latter, but had been forced to conclude that he wasnot told the whole truth.
If Hippolyte and Nina Alexandrovna had, as Gania suspected, had somespecial conversation about the general’s actions, it was strange thatthe malicious youth, whom Gania had called a scandal-monger to his face,had not allowed himself a similar satisfaction with Colia.
The fact is that probably Hippolyte was not quite so black as Ganiapainted him; and it was hardly likely that he had informed NinaAlexandrovna of certain events, of which we know, for the mere pleasureof giving her pain. We must never forget that human motives aregenerally far more complicated than we are apt to suppose, and that wecan very rarely accurately describe the motives of another. It is muchbetter for the writer, as a rule, to content himself with the barestatement of events; and we shall take this line with regard to thecatastrophe recorded above, and shall state the remaining eventsconnected with the general’s trouble shortly, because we feel thatwe have already given to this secondary character in our story moreattention than we originally intended.
The course of events had marched in the following order. When Lebedeffreturned, in company with the general, after their expedition to town afew days since, for the purpose of investigation, he brought the princeno information whatever. If the latter had not himself been occupiedwith other thoughts and impressions at the time, he must have observedthat Lebedeff not only was very uncommunicative, but even appearedanxious to avoid him.
When the prince did give the matter a little attention, he recalledthe fact that during these days he had always found Lebedeff to be inradiantly good spirits, when they happened to meet; and further, thatthe general and Lebedeff were always together. The two friends did notseem ever to be parted for a moment.
Occasionally the prince heard loud talking and laughing upstairs, andonce he detected the sound of a jolly soldier’s song going on above, andrecognized the unmistakable bass of the general’s voice. But the suddenoutbreak of song did not last; and for an hour afterwards the animatedsound of apparently drunken conversation continued to be heard fromabove. At length there was the clearest evidence of a grand mutualembracing, and someone burst into tears. Shortly after this, however,there was a violent but short-lived quarrel, with loud talking on bothsides.
All these days Colia had been in a state of great mental preoccupation.Muishkin was usually out all day, and only came home late at night. Onhis return he was invariably
informed that Colia had been looking forhim. However, when they did meet, Colia never had anything particular totell him, excepting that he was highly dissatisfied with the general andhis present condition of mind and behaviour.
“They drag each other about the place,” he said, “and get drunk togetherat the pub close by here, and quarrel in the street on the way home, andembrace one another after it, and don’t seem to part for a moment.”
When the prince pointed out that there was nothing new about that, forthat they had always behaved in this manner together, Colia did not knowwhat to say; in fact he could not explain what it was that speciallyworried him, just now, about his father.
On the morning following the bacchanalian songs and quarrels recordedabove, as the prince stepped out of the house at about eleven o’clock,the general suddenly appeared before him, much agitated.
“I have long sought the honour and opportunity of meetingyou--much-esteemed Lef Nicolaievitch,” he murmured, pressing theprince’s hand very hard, almost painfully so; “long--very long.”
The prince begged him to step in and sit down.
“No--I will not sit down,--I am keeping you, I see,--another time!--Ithink I may be permitted to congratulate you upon the realization ofyour heart’s best wishes, is it not so?”
“What best wishes?”
The prince blushed. He thought, as so many in his position do, thatnobody had seen, heard, noticed, or understood anything.
“Oh--be easy, sir, be easy! I shall not wound your tenderest feelings.I’ve been through it all myself, and I know well how unpleasant it iswhen an outsider sticks his nose in where he is not wanted. I experiencethis every morning. I came to speak to you about another matter, though,an important matter. A very important matter, prince.”
The latter requested him to take a seat once more, and sat down himself.
“Well--just for one second, then. The fact is, I came for advice. Ofcourse I live now without any very practical objects in life; but,being full of self-respect, in which quality the ordinary Russian is sodeficient as a rule, and of activity, I am desirous, in a word, prince,of placing myself and my wife and children in a position of--in fact, Iwant advice.”
The prince commended his aspirations with warmth.
“Quite so--quite so! But this is all mere nonsense. I came here to speakof something quite different, something very important, prince. AndI have determined to come to you as to a man in whose sincerity andnobility of feeling I can trust like--like--are you surprised at mywords, prince?”
The prince was watching his guest, if not with much surprise, at allevents with great attention and curiosity.
The old man was very pale; every now and then his lips trembled, and hishands seemed unable to rest quietly, but continually moved from place toplace. He had twice already jumped up from his chair and sat down againwithout being in the least aware of it. He would take up a book fromthe table and open it--talking all the while,--look at the heading of achapter, shut it and put it back again, seizing another immediately, butholding it unopened in his hand, and waving it in the air as he spoke.
“But enough!” he cried, suddenly. “I see I have been boring you withmy--”
“Not in the least--not in the least, I assure you. On the contrary, I amlistening most attentively, and am anxious to guess--”
“Prince, I wish to place myself in a respectable position--I wish toesteem myself--and to--”
“My dear sir, a man of such noble aspirations is worthy of all esteem byvirtue of those aspirations alone.”
The prince brought out his “copy-book sentence” in the firm belief thatit would produce a good effect. He felt instinctively that some suchwell-sounding humbug, brought out at the proper moment, would soothe theold man’s feelings, and would be specially acceptable to such a man insuch a position. At all hazards, his guest must be despatched with heartrelieved and spirit comforted; that was the problem before the prince atthis moment.
The phrase flattered the general, touched him, and pleased him mightily.He immediately changed his tone, and started off on a long and solemnexplanation. But listen as he would, the prince could make neither headnor tail of it.
The general spoke hotly and quickly for ten minutes; he spoke as thoughhis words could not keep pace with his crowding thoughts. Tears stoodin his eyes, and yet his speech was nothing but a collection ofdisconnected sentences, without beginning and without end--a string ofunexpected words and unexpected sentiments--colliding with one another,and jumping over one another, as they burst from his lips.
“Enough!” he concluded at last, “you understand me, and that is thegreat thing. A heart like yours cannot help understanding the sufferingsof another. Prince, you are the ideal of generosity; what are other menbeside yourself? But you are young--accept my blessing! Myprincipal object is to beg you to fix an hour for a most importantconversation--that is my great hope, prince. My heart needs but a littlefriendship and sympathy, and yet I cannot always find means to satisfyit.”
“But why not now? I am ready to listen, and--”
“No, no--prince, not now! Now is a dream! And it is too, too important!It is to be the hour of Fate to me--_my own_ hour. Our interview is notto be broken in upon by every chance comer, every impertinent guest--andthere are plenty of such stupid, impertinent fellows”--(he bent over andwhispered mysteriously, with a funny, frightened look on his face)--“whoare unworthy to tie your shoe, prince. I don’t say _mine_, mind--you willunderstand me, prince. Only _you_ understand me, prince--no one else._He_ doesn’t understand me, he is absolutely--_absolutely_ unable tosympathize. The first qualification for understanding another is Heart.”
The prince was rather alarmed at all this, and was obliged to end byappointing the same hour of the following day for the interview desired.The general left him much comforted and far less agitated than when hehad arrived.
At seven in the evening, the prince sent to request Lebedeff to payhim a visit. Lebedeff came at once, and “esteemed it an honour,” as heobserved, the instant he entered the room. He acted as though therehad never been the slightest suspicion of the fact that he hadsystematically avoided the prince for the last three days.
He sat down on the edge of his chair, smiling and making faces,and rubbing his hands, and looking as though he were in delightedexpectation of hearing some important communication, which had been longguessed by all.
The prince was instantly covered with confusion; for it appeared to beplain that everyone expected something of him--that everyone looked athim as though anxious to congratulate him, and greeted him with hints,and smiles, and knowing looks.
Keller, for instance, had run into the house three times of late, “justfor a moment,” and each time with the air of desiring to offer hiscongratulations. Colia, too, in spite of his melancholy, had onceor twice begun sentences in much the same strain of suggestion orinsinuation.
The prince, however, immediately began, with some show of annoyance, toquestion Lebedeff categorically, as to the general’s present condition,and his opinion thereon. He described the morning’s interview in a fewwords.
“Everyone has his worries, prince, especially in these strange andtroublous times of ours,” Lebedeff replied, drily, and with the air of aman disappointed of his reasonable expectations.
“Dear me, what a philosopher you are!” laughed the prince.
“Philosophy is necessary, sir--very necessary--in our day. It is toomuch neglected. As for me, much esteemed prince, I am sensible of havingexperienced the honour of your confidence in a certain matter up toa certain point, but never beyond that point. I do not for a momentcomplain--”
“Lebedeff, you seem to be angry for some reason!” said the prince.
“Not the least bit in the world, esteemed and revered prince! Not theleast bit in the world!” cried Lebedeff, solemnly, with his hand uponhis heart. “On the contrary, I am too painfully aware that neither by myposition in the world, nor by my gifts of intellect and heart, nor bymy
riches, nor by any former conduct of mine, have I in any way deservedyour confidence, which is far above my highest aspirations and hopes.Oh no, prince; I may serve you, but only as your humble slave! I am notangry, oh no! Not angry; pained perhaps, but nothing more.”
“My dear Lebedeff, I--”
“Oh, nothing more, nothing more! I was saying to myself but now... ‘I amquite unworthy of friendly relations with him,’ say I; ‘but perhaps aslandlord of this house I may, at some future date, in his good time,receive information as to certain imminent and much to be desiredchanges--’”
So saying Lebedeff fixed the prince with his sharp little eyes, still inhope that he would get his curiosity satisfied.
The prince looked back at him in amazement.
“I don’t understand what you are driving at!” he cried, almost angrily,“and, and--what an intriguer you are, Lebedeff!” he added, bursting intoa fit of genuine laughter.
Lebedeff followed suit at once, and it was clear from his radiant facethat he considered his prospects of satisfaction immensely improved.
“And do you know,” the prince continued, “I am amazed at your naiveways, Lebedeff! Don’t be angry with me--not only yours, everybody else’salso! You are waiting to hear something from me at this very moment withsuch simplicity that I declare I feel quite ashamed of myself for havingnothing whatever to tell you. I swear to you solemnly, that there isnothing to tell. There! Can you take that in?” The prince laughed again.
Lebedeff assumed an air of dignity. It was true enough that he wassometimes naive to a degree in his curiosity; but he was also anexcessively cunning gentleman, and the prince was almost convertinghim into an enemy by his repeated rebuffs. The prince did not snubLebedeff’s curiosity, however, because he felt any contempt for him; butsimply because the subject was too delicate to talk about. Only a fewdays before he had looked upon his own dreams almost as crimes. ButLebedeff considered the refusal as caused by personal dislike tohimself, and was hurt accordingly. Indeed, there was at this moment apiece of news, most interesting to the prince, which Lebedeff knewand even had wished to tell him, but which he now kept obstinately