was given, where lived a German lady, a friend ofNastasia Philipovna’s. It was possible that she might have spent thenight there in her anxiety to conceal herself.
The prince rose from his seat in a condition of mental collapse. Thegood ladies reported afterwards that “his pallor was terrible to see,and his legs seemed to give way underneath him.” With difficulty he wasmade to understand that his new friends would be glad of his address, inorder to act with him if possible. After a moment’s thought he gave theaddress of the small hotel, on the stairs of which he had had a fit somefive weeks since. He then set off once more for Rogojin’s.
This time they neither opened the door at Rogojin’s flat nor at the oneopposite. The prince found the porter with difficulty, but when found,the man would hardly look at him or answer his questions, pretendingto be busy. Eventually, however, he was persuaded to reply so far as tostate that Rogojin had left the house early in the morning and gone toPavlofsk, and that he would not return today at all.
“I shall wait; he may come back this evening.”
“He may not be home for a week.”
“Then, at all events, he _did_ sleep here, did he?”
“Well--he did sleep here, yes.”
All this was suspicious and unsatisfactory. Very likely the porter hadreceived new instructions during the interval of the prince’s absence;his manner was so different now. He had been obliging--now he was asobstinate and silent as a mule. However, the prince decided to callagain in a couple of hours, and after that to watch the house, in caseof need. His hope was that he might yet find Nastasia at the addresswhich he had just received. To that address he now set off at fullspeed.
But alas! at the German lady’s house they did not even appear tounderstand what he wanted. After a while, by means of certain hints, hewas able to gather that Nastasia must have had a quarrel with her friendtwo or three weeks ago, since which date the latter had neither heardnor seen anything of her. He was given to understand that the subject ofNastasia’s present whereabouts was not of the slightest interest to her;and that Nastasia might marry all the princes in the world for all shecared! So Muishkin took his leave hurriedly. It struck him now that shemight have gone away to Moscow just as she had done the last time, andthat Rogojin had perhaps gone after her, or even _with_ her. If only hecould find some trace!
However, he must take his room at the hotel; and he started off in thatdirection. Having engaged his room, he was asked by the waiter whetherhe would take dinner; replying mechanically in the affirmative, he satdown and waited; but it was not long before it struck him that diningwould delay him. Enraged at this idea, he started up, crossed thedark passage (which filled him with horrible impressions and gloomyforebodings), and set out once more for Rogojin’s. Rogojin had notreturned, and no one came to the door. He rang at the old lady’s dooropposite, and was informed that Parfen Semionovitch would not return forthree days. The curiosity with which the old servant stared at him againimpressed the prince disagreeably. He could not find the porter thistime at all.
As before, he crossed the street and watched the windows from the otherside, walking up and down in anguish of soul for half an hour or so inthe stifling heat. Nothing stirred; the blinds were motionless; indeed,the prince began to think that the apparition of Rogojin’s face couldhave been nothing but fancy. Soothed by this thought, he drove off oncemore to his friends at the Ismailofsky barracks. He was expectedthere. The mother had already been to three or four places to look forNastasia, but had not found a trace of any kind.
The prince said nothing, but entered the room, sat down silently, andstared at them, one after the other, with the air of a man who cannotunderstand what is being said to him. It was strange--one moment heseemed to be so observant, the next so absent; his behaviour struckall the family as most remarkable. At length he rose from his seat, andbegged to be shown Nastasia’s rooms. The ladies reported afterwards howhe had examined everything in the apartments. He observed an open bookon the table, Madam Bovary, and requested the leave of the lady of thehouse to take it with him. He had turned down the leaf at the open page,and pocketed it before they could explain that it was a library book. Hehad then seated himself by the open window, and seeing a card-table, heasked who played cards.
He was informed that Nastasia used to play with Rogojin every evening,either at “preference” or “little fool,” or “whist”; that this had beentheir practice since her last return from Pavlofsk; that she had takento this amusement because she did not like to see Rogojin sitting silentand dull for whole evenings at a time; that the day after Nastasia hadmade a remark to this effect, Rogojin had whipped a pack of cards outof his pocket. Nastasia had laughed, but soon they began playing. Theprince asked where were the cards, but was told that Rogojin used tobring a new pack every day, and always carried it away in his pocket.
The good ladies recommended the prince to try knocking at Rogojin’s oncemore--not at once, but in the evening. Meanwhile, the mother would go toPavlofsk to inquire at Dana Alexeyevna’s whether anything had been heardof Nastasia there. The prince was to come back at ten o’clock and meether, to hear her news and arrange plans for the morrow.
In spite of the kindly-meant consolations of his new friends, the princewalked to his hotel in inexpressible anguish of spirit, through the hot,dusty streets, aimlessly staring at the faces of those who passed him.Arrived at his destination, he determined to rest awhile in his roombefore he started for Rogojin’s once more. He sat down, rested hiselbows on the table and his head on his hands, and fell to thinking.
Heaven knows how long and upon what subjects he thought. He thoughtof many things--of Vera Lebedeff, and of her father; of Hippolyte; ofRogojin himself, first at the funeral, then as he had met him in thepark, then, suddenly, as they had met in this very passage, outside,when Rogojin had watched in the darkness and awaited him with upliftedknife. The prince remembered his enemy’s eyes as they had glared at himin the darkness. He shuddered, as a sudden idea struck him.
This idea was, that if Rogojin were in Petersburg, though he might hidefor a time, yet he was quite sure to come to him--the prince--beforelong, with either good or evil intentions, but probably with the sameintention as on that other occasion. At all events, if Rogojin were tocome at all he would be sure to seek the prince here--he had no othertown address--perhaps in this same corridor; he might well seek him hereif he needed him. And perhaps he did need him. This idea seemed quitenatural to the prince, though he could not have explained why he shouldso suddenly have become necessary to Rogojin. Rogojin would not come ifall were well with him, that was part of the thought; he would come ifall were not well; and certainly, undoubtedly, all would not be wellwith him. The prince could not bear this new idea; he took his hat andrushed out towards the street. It was almost dark in the passage.
“What if he were to come out of that corner as I go by and--and stopme?” thought the prince, as he approached the familiar spot. But no onecame out.
He passed under the gateway and into the street. The crowds of peoplewalking about--as is always the case at sunset in Petersburg, during thesummer--surprised him, but he walked on in the direction of Rogojin’shouse.
About fifty yards from the hotel, at the first cross-road, as he passedthrough the crowd of foot-passengers sauntering along, someone touchedhis shoulder, and said in a whisper into his ear:
“Lef Nicolaievitch, my friend, come along with me.” It was Rogojin.
The prince immediately began to tell him, eagerly and joyfully, how hehad but the moment before expected to see him in the dark passage of thehotel.
“I was there,” said Rogojin, unexpectedly. “Come along.” The prince wassurprised at this answer; but his astonishment increased a couple ofminutes afterwards, when he began to consider it. Having thought itover, he glanced at Rogojin in alarm. The latter was striding along ayard or so ahead, looking straight in front of him, and mechanicallymaking way for anyone he met.
“Why did you not ask for me at my room if y
ou were in the hotel?” askedthe prince, suddenly.
Rogojin stopped and looked at him; then reflected, and replied as thoughhe had not heard the question:
“Look here, Lef Nicolaievitch, you go straight on to the house; I shallwalk on the other side. See that we keep together.”
So saying, Rogojin crossed the road.
Arrived on the opposite pavement, he looked back to see whether theprince were moving, waved his hand in the direction of the Gorohovaya,and strode on, looking across every moment to see whether Muishkinunderstood his instructions. The prince supposed that Rogojin desired tolook out for someone whom he was afraid to miss; but if so, why had henot told _him_ whom to look out for? So the two proceeded for half a mileor so. Suddenly the prince began to tremble from some unknown cause. Hecould not bear it, and signalled to Rogojin across the road.
The latter came at once.
“Is Nastasia Philipovna at your house?”
“Yes.”
“And was it you looked out of the window under the blind this morning?”
“Yes.”
“Then why did--”
But the prince could not finish his question; he did not know what tosay. Besides this, his heart was beating so that he found it difficultto speak at all. Rogojin was silent also and looked at him as before,with an expression of deep thoughtfulness.
“Well, I’m going,” he said, at last, preparing to recross the road. “Yougo along here as before; we will keep to different sides of the road;it’s better so, you’ll see.”
When they reached the Gorohovaya, and came near the house, the prince’slegs were trembling so that he could hardly walk. It was about teno’clock. The old lady’s windows were open, as before; Rogojin’s wereall shut, and in the darkness the white blinds showed whiter than ever.Rogojin and the prince each approached the house on his respective sideof the road; Rogojin, who was on the near side, beckoned the princeacross. He went over to the doorway.
“Even the porter does not know that I have come home now. I told him,and told them at my mother’s too, that I was off to Pavlofsk,” saidRogojin, with a cunning and almost satisfied smile. “We’ll go in quietlyand nobody will hear us.”
He had the key in his hand. Mounting the staircase he turned andsignalled to the prince to go more softly; he opened the door veryquietly, let the prince in, followed him, locked the door behind him,and put the key in his pocket.
“Come along,” he whispered.
He had spoken in a whisper all the way. In spite of his apparent outwardcomposure, he was evidently in a state of great mental agitation.Arrived in a large salon, next to the study, he went to the window andcautiously beckoned the prince up to him.
“When you rang the bell this morning I thought it must be you. I went tothe door on tip-toe and heard you talking to the servant opposite. I hadtold her before that if anyone came and rang--especially you, and I gaveher your name--she was not to tell about me. Then I thought, what ifhe goes and stands opposite and looks up, or waits about to watch thehouse? So I came to this very window, looked out, and there you werestaring straight at me. That’s how it came about.”
“Where is Nastasia Philipovna?” asked the prince, breathlessly.
“She’s here,” replied Rogojin, slowly, after a slight pause.
“Where?”
Rogojin raised his eyes and gazed intently at the prince.
“Come,” he said.
He continued to speak in a whisper, very deliberately as before, andlooked strangely thoughtful and dreamy. Even while he told the story ofhow he had peeped through the blind, he gave the impression of wishingto say something else. They entered the study. In this room some changeshad taken place since the prince last saw it. It was now divided intotwo equal parts by a heavy green silk curtain stretched across it,separating the alcove beyond, where stood Rogojin’s bed, from the restof the room.
The heavy curtain was drawn now, and it was very dark. The brightPetersburg summer nights were already beginning to close in, and but forthe full moon, it would have been difficult to distinguish anything inRogojin’s dismal room, with the drawn blinds. They could just see oneanothers faces, however, though not in detail. Rogojin’s face was white,as usual. His glittering eyes watched the prince with an intent stare.
“Had you not better light a candle?” said Muishkin.
“No, I needn’t,” replied Rogojin, and taking the other by the hand hedrew him down to a chair. He himself took a chair opposite and drew itup so close that he almost pressed against the prince’s knees. At theirside was a little round table.
“Sit down,” said Rogojin; “let’s rest a bit.” There was silence for amoment.
“I knew you would be at that hotel,” he continued, just as men sometimescommence a serious conversation by discussing any outside subject beforeleading up to the main point. “As I entered the passage it struck methat perhaps you were sitting and waiting for me, just as I was waitingfor you. Have you been to the old lady at Ismailofsky barracks?”
“Yes,” said the prince, squeezing the word out with difficulty owing tothe dreadful beating of his heart.
“I thought you would. ‘They’ll talk about it,’ I thought; so Idetermined to go and fetch you to spend the night here--‘We will betogether,’ I thought, ‘for this one night--’”
“Rogojin, _where_ is Nastasia Philipovna?” said the prince, suddenlyrising from his seat. He was quaking in all his limbs, and his wordscame in a scarcely audible whisper. Rogojin rose also.
“There,” he whispered, nodding his head towards the curtain.
“Asleep?” whispered the prince.
Rogojin looked intently at him again, as before.
“Let’s go in--but you mustn’t--well--let’s go in.”
He lifted the curtain, paused--and turned to the prince. “Go in,” hesaid, motioning him to pass behind the curtain. Muishkin went in.
“It’s so dark,” he said.
“You can see quite enough,” muttered Rogojin.
“I can just see there’s a bed--”
“Go nearer,” suggested Rogojin, softly.
The prince took a step forward--then another--and paused. He stood andstared for a minute or two.
Neither of the men spoke a word while at the bedside. The prince’s heartbeat so loud that its knocking seemed to be distinctly audible in thedeathly silence.
But now his eyes had become so far accustomed to the darkness that hecould distinguish the whole of the bed. Someone was asleep uponit--in an absolutely motionless sleep. Not the slightest movement wasperceptible, not the faintest breathing could be heard. The sleeperwas covered with a white sheet; the outline of the limbs was hardlydistinguishable. He could only just make out that a human being layoutstretched there.
All around, on the bed, on a chair beside it, on the floor, werescattered the different portions of a magnificent white silk dress, bitsof lace, ribbons and flowers. On a small table at the bedside glittereda mass of diamonds, torn off and thrown down anyhow. From under a heapof lace at the end of the bed peeped a small white foot, which looked asthough it had been chiselled out of marble; it was terribly still.
The prince gazed and gazed, and felt that the more he gazed the moredeath-like became the silence. Suddenly a fly awoke somewhere, buzzedacross the room, and settled on the pillow. The prince shuddered.
“Let’s go,” said Rogojin, touching his shoulder. They left the alcoveand sat down in the two chairs they had occupied before, opposite to oneanother. The prince trembled more and more violently, and never took hisquestioning eyes off Rogojin’s face.
“I see you are shuddering, Lef Nicolaievitch,” said the latter, atlength, “almost as you did once in Moscow, before your fit; don’t youremember? I don’t know what I shall do with you--”
The prince bent forward to listen, putting all the strain he couldmuster upon his understanding in order to take in what Rogojin said, andcontinuing to gaze at the latter’s face.
“Was it you?”
he muttered, at last, motioning with his head towards thecurtain.
“Yes, it was I,” whispered Rogojin, looking down.
Neither spoke for five minutes.
“Because, you know,” Rogojin recommenced, as though continuing a formersentence, “if you were ill now, or had a fit, or screamed, or anything,they might hear it in the yard, or even in the street, and guess thatsomeone was passing the night in the house. They would all come andknock and want to come in, because they know I am not at home. I didn’tlight a candle for the same reason. When I am not here--for two orthree days at a time, now and then--no one comes in to tidy the houseor anything; those are my orders. So that I want them to not know we arespending the night here--”
“Wait,” interrupted the prince. “I asked both the porter and the womanwhether Nastasia Philipovna had spent last night in the house; so theyknew--”
“I know you asked. I told them that she had called in for ten minutes,and then gone straight back to Pavlofsk. No one knows she slept here.Last night we came in just as carefully as you and I did today. Ithought as I came along with her that she would not like to creep in sosecretly, but I was quite wrong. She whispered, and walked on tip-toe;she carried her skirt over her arm, so that it shouldn’t rustle, andshe held up her finger at me on the stairs, so that I shouldn’t makea noise--it was you she was afraid of. She was mad with terror in thetrain, and she begged me to bring her to this house. I thought of takingher to her rooms at the Ismailofsky barracks first; but she wouldn’thear of it. She said, ‘No--not there; he’ll find me out at once there.Take me to your own house, where you can hide me, and tomorrow we’ll setoff for Moscow.’ Thence she would go to Orel, she said. When she went tobed, she was still talking about going to Orel.”
“Wait! What do you intend to do now, Parfen?”
“Well, I’m afraid of you. You shudder and tremble so. We’ll pass thenight here together. There are no other beds besides that one; but I’vethought how we’ll manage. I’ll take the cushions off all the sofas, andlay them down on the floor, up against the curtain here--for you andme--so that we shall be together. For if they come in and look aboutnow, you know, they’ll find her, and carry her away, and