have sometimes asked myself howit was that these communities were not utterly swept off the face of theearth, and how they could possibly survive. Lebedeff is not mistaken,in my opinion, when he says that there were cannibals in those days,perhaps in considerable numbers; but I do not understand why he shouldhave dragged in the monks, nor what he means by that.”
“It is undoubtedly because, in the twelfth century, monks were the onlypeople one could eat; they were the fat, among many lean,” said GavrilaArdalionovitch.
“A brilliant idea, and most true!” cried Lebedeff, “for he nevereven touched the laity. Sixty monks, and not a single layman! It is aterrible idea, but it is historic, it is statistic; it is indeed one ofthose facts which enables an intelligent historian to reconstruct thephysiognomy of a special epoch, for it brings out this further pointwith mathematical accuracy, that the clergy were in those days sixtytimes richer and more flourishing than the rest of humanity and perhapssixty times fatter also...”
“You are exaggerating, you are exaggerating, Lebedeff!” cried hishearers, amid laughter.
“I admit that it is an historic thought, but what is your conclusion?” asked the prince.
He spoke so seriously in addressing Lebedeff, that his tone contrastedquite comically with that of the others. They were very nearly laughingat him, too, but he did not notice it.
“Don’t you see he is a lunatic, prince?” whispered Evgenie Pavlovitchin his ear. “Someone told me just now that he is a bit touched on thesubject of lawyers, that he has a mania for making speeches and intendsto pass the examinations. I am expecting a splendid burlesque now.”
“My conclusion is vast,” replied Lebedeff, in a voice like thunder. “Letus examine first the psychological and legal position of the criminal.We see that in spite of the difficulty of finding other food, theaccused, or, as we may say, my client, has often during his peculiarlife exhibited signs of repentance, and of wishing to give up thisclerical diet. Incontrovertible facts prove this assertion. He has eatenfive or six children, a relatively insignificant number, no doubt,but remarkable enough from another point of view. It is manifest that,pricked by remorse--for my client is religious, in his way, and has aconscience, as I shall prove later--and desiring to extenuate his sinas far as possible, he has tried six times at least to substitute laynourishment for clerical. That this was merely an experiment we canhardly doubt: for if it had been only a question of gastronomic variety,six would have been too few; why only six? Why not thirty? But if weregard it as an experiment, inspired by the fear of committing newsacrilege, then this number six becomes intelligible. Six attemptsto calm his remorse, and the pricking of his conscience, would amplysuffice, for these attempts could scarcely have been happy ones. Inmy humble opinion, a child is too small; I should say, not sufficient;which would result in four or five times more lay children than monksbeing required in a given time. The sin, lessened on the one hand, wouldtherefore be increased on the other, in quantity, not in quality. Pleaseunderstand, gentlemen, that in reasoning thus, I am taking the point ofview which might have been taken by a criminal of the middle ages. Asfor myself, a man of the late nineteenth century, I, of course, shouldreason differently; I say so plainly, and therefore you need not jeerat me nor mock me, gentlemen. As for you, general, it is still moreunbecoming on your part. In the second place, and giving my own personalopinion, a child’s flesh is not a satisfying diet; it is too insipid,too sweet; and the criminal, in making these experiments, could havesatisfied neither his conscience nor his appetite. I am about toconclude, gentlemen; and my conclusion contains a reply to one of themost important questions of that day and of our own! This criminal endedat last by denouncing himself to the clergy, and giving himself up tojustice. We cannot but ask, remembering the penal system of that day,and the tortures that awaited him--the wheel, the stake, the fire!--wecannot but ask, I repeat, what induced him to accuse himself of thiscrime? Why did he not simply stop short at the number sixty, and keephis secret until his last breath? Why could he not simply leave themonks alone, and go into the desert to repent? Or why not become amonk himself? That is where the puzzle comes in! There must have beensomething stronger than the stake or the fire, or even than the habitsof twenty years! There must have been an idea more powerful than allthe calamities and sorrows of this world, famine or torture, leprosy orplague--an idea which entered into the heart, directed and enlarged thesprings of life, and made even that hell supportable to humanity!Show me a force, a power like that, in this our century of vicesand railways! I might say, perhaps, in our century of steamboats andrailways, but I repeat in our century of vices and railways, because Iam drunk but truthful! Show me a single idea which unites men nowadayswith half the strength that it had in those centuries, and dare tomaintain that the ‘springs of life’ have not been polluted and weakenedbeneath this ‘star,’ beneath this network in which men are entangled!Don’t talk to me about your prosperity, your riches, the rarity offamine, the rapidity of the means of transport! There is more of riches,but less of force. The idea uniting heart and soul to heart and soulexists no more. All is loose, soft, limp--we are all of us limp....Enough, gentlemen! I have done. That is not the question. No, thequestion is now, excellency, I believe, to sit down to the banquet youare about to provide for us!”
Lebedeff had roused great indignation in some of his auditors (itshould be remarked that the bottles were constantly uncorked during hisspeech); but this unexpected conclusion calmed even the most turbulentspirits. “That’s how a clever barrister makes a good point!” said he,when speaking of his peroration later on. The visitors began to laughand chatter once again; the committee left their seats, and stretchedtheir legs on the terrace. Keller alone was still disgusted withLebedeff and his speech; he turned from one to another, saying in a loudvoice:
“He attacks education, he boasts of the fanaticism of the twelfthcentury, he makes absurd grimaces, and added to that he is by no meansthe innocent he makes himself out to be. How did he get the money to buythis house, allow me to ask?”
In another corner was the general, holding forth to a group of hearers,among them Ptitsin, whom he had buttonholed. “I have known,” said he,“a real interpreter of the Apocalypse, the late Gregory SemeonovitchBurmistroff, and he--he pierced the heart like a fiery flash! He beganby putting on his spectacles, then he opened a large black book;his white beard, and his two medals on his breast, recalling acts ofcharity, all added to his impressiveness. He began in a stern voice, andbefore him generals, hard men of the world, bowed down, and ladiesfell to the ground fainting. But this one here--he ends by announcing abanquet! That is not the real thing!”
Ptitsin listened and smiled, then turned as if to get his hat; but if hehad intended to leave, he changed his mind. Before the others had risenfrom the table, Gania had suddenly left off drinking, and pushed awayhis glass, a dark shadow seemed to come over his face. When they allrose, he went and sat down by Rogojin. It might have been believed thatquite friendly relations existed between them. Rogojin, who had alsoseemed on the point of going away now sat motionless, his head bent,seeming to have forgotten his intention. He had drunk no wine, andappeared absorbed in reflection. From time to time he raised his eyes,and examined everyone present; one might have imagined that he wasexpecting something very important to himself, and that he had decidedto wait for it. The prince had taken two or three glasses of champagne,and seemed cheerful. As he rose he noticed Evgenie Pavlovitch, and,remembering the appointment he had made with him, smiled pleasantly.Evgenie Pavlovitch made a sign with his head towards Hippolyte, whom hewas attentively watching. The invalid was fast asleep, stretched out onthe sofa.
“Tell me, prince, why on earth did this boy intrude himself upon you?” he asked, with such annoyance and irritation in his voice that theprince was quite surprised. “I wouldn’t mind laying odds that he is upto some mischief.”
“I have observed,” said the prince, “that he seems to be an object ofvery singular interest to you, Evgenie Pavlovitch. Why is
it?”
“You may add that I have surely enough to think of, on my own account,without him; and therefore it is all the more surprising that I cannottear my eyes and thoughts away from his detestable physiognomy.”
“Oh, come! He has a handsome face.”
“Why, look at him--look at him now!”
The prince glanced again at Evgenie Pavlovitch with considerablesurprise.
V.
Hippolyte, who had fallen asleep during Lebedeff’s discourse, nowsuddenly woke up, just as though someone had jogged him in the side. Heshuddered, raised himself on his arm, gazed around, and grew very pale.A look almost of terror crossed his face as he recollected.
“What! are they all off? Is it all over? Is the sun up?” He trembled,and caught at the prince’s hand. “What time is it? Tell me, quick, forgoodness’ sake! How long have I slept?” he added, almost in despair,just as though he had overslept something upon which his whole fatedepended.
“You have slept seven or perhaps