Complete Works of Fyodor Dostoyevsky (628 page)

In fact, it all sounded very probable, the very stupidity of some of Alphonsine’s expressions only increased its apparent truthfulness.

“What homme noir?” cried Tatyana Pavlovna.

“Tien, j’ai oublié son nom. . . Un homme affreux. . . Tiens, Versilov.”

“Versilov, it cannot be,” I cried!

“Oh, yes, it can!” wailed Tatyana Pavlovna: “come, tell us my good woman without dancing about, don’t wave your arms about; what do they want?  Explain, my good woman; I don’t believe they mean to shoot her.”

“My good woman” did explain as follows (N.B. — it was all a lie, I must remind the reader again):  Versilov was to sit at the door and when she went in Lambert was to show her cette lettre, then Versilov was to rush in and they would. . . . .  Oh! ils feront leur vengeance! that she, Alphonsine, was afraid there would be trouble, because she had had a share in the business herself, cette dame, la générale would certainly come at once, at once, because they had sent her a copy of the letter, and she would see at once that they really had the letter, and would go to interview them, but only Lambert had written the letter, so she knew nothing about Versilov; and Lambert had introduced himself as a stranger who had come from a lady in Moscow, une dame de Moscou (N.B. — Marie Ivanovna!)

“Ach, I feel sick!  Ach, I feel sick!” exclaimed Tatyana Pavlovna.

“Sauvez la, sauvez la!” cried Alphonsine.

Oh, of course there was something inconsistent, even at first sight, in this mad story, but there was no time to think it over, for in essentials it sounded very probable.  Of course, one might still suppose, and with the greatest likelihood, that Katerina Nikolaevna, on receiving Lambert’s summons, would come first to Tatyana Pavlovna’s to discuss the matter with us; and on the other hand, this might not happen, and she might go straight to him, and then — she was lost!  It was difficult to believe that she would rush off to a stranger like Lambert at the first summons; yet, again, this might somehow happen, after seeing the copy and satisfying herself that they really had her letter, and then there would be disaster anyway!  Above all, we had no time even to reflect.

“Versilov will murder her! if he has stooped to make use of Lambert he’ll murder her!  It’s the second self,” I cried.

“Ah that ‘second self’!” cried Tatyana Pavlovna, wringing her hands.  “Well, this is no use,” she said decidedly, “take your cap and coat and quick march together.  Lead us straight to them, my good woman.  Ach, it’s a long way.  Marya, Marya, if Katerina Nikolaevna comes, tell her I shall be back directly and make her sit and wait for me, and if she does not want to wait, lock the door and keep her by force.  Tell her I told her to.  A hundred roubles for you, Marya, if you deserve it.”

We ran down stairs.  No doubt nothing better could have been suggested, for, in any case, the chief scene of danger was in Lambert’s lodging, and if Katerina Nikolaevna did really come first to Tatyana Pavlovna’s lodgings, Marya could always detain her.  Yet after she had called a sledge, Tatyana Pavlovna changed her mind.

“You go with her,” she bade me, leaving me with Alphonsine “and if need be, die there, do you understand?  I’ll follow you directly, but first I’ll whisk round to her, maybe I shall find her, for say what you like, I feel suspicious!”

And she flew off to Katerina Nikolaevna.

Alphonsine and I went our way towards Lambert’s.  I urged on the driver and continued to question Alphonsine, but she confined herself to exclamations, and finally took refuge in tears.  But God saved and preserved us all when everything was hanging on a thread.  We had not driven a quarter of the way when I suddenly heard a shout behind me; some one was calling me by my name.  I looked round — Trishatov was driving after us in another sledge.

“Where are you going,” he shouted in alarm, “and with her, with Alphonsine?”

“Trishatov,” I cried, “you told the truth, there is trouble!  I am going to that scoundrel, Lambert’s!  Let’s go together, the more the better!”

“Turn back, turn back at once,” shouted Trishatov, “Lambert’s deceiving you, and Alphonsine’s deceiving you.  The pock-marked fellow sent me; they are not at home, I met Versilov and Lambert just now; they were driving to Tatyana Pavlovna’s . . . they’re there now. . . .”

I stopped the driver and jumped out to join Trishatov.  To this day I don’t know how I could make up my mind so quickly, but I believed him at once, and made up my mind.  Alphonsine raised a terrible outcry, but we did not trouble ourselves about her, and I don’t know whether she followed us or went home, anyway, I did not see her again.

In the sledge, Trishatov told me breathlessly that there was some sort of plot on foot, that Lambert had been plotting with the pock- marked man, but that the latter had betrayed him at the last moment, and had sent Trishatov to Tatyana Pavlovna’s to warn her not to believe Lambert and Alphonsine.  Trishatov added that he knew nothing more, and that the pock-marked gentleman had told him nothing more, for he had been in a hurry himself, and it had all been settled in haste.  “I saw you driving,” Trishatov went on, “and drove after you.”

It was clear, of course, that this pock-marked individual also knew the whole story, since he had sent Trishatov straight to Tatyana Pavlovna’s, but that was another mystery.  But to avoid a muddle I will, before describing the catastrophe, explain the actual fact, and for the last time anticipate the order of events.

4

After stealing the letter Lambert at once got into communication with Versilov.  How Versilov could have brought himself to join Lambert — I won’t discuss for the time; that will come later; what was chiefly responsible was the “second self!”  After joining Versilov, Lambert still had to entice Katerina Nikolaevna as cunningly as he could.  Versilov assured him at once that she would not come.  But ever since the day before yesterday, when I met him in the street in the evening, broke off all relations with him, and told him that I should give back the letter at Tatyana Pavlovna’s lodgings and in her presence — Lambert had arranged to keep a watch on Tatyana Pavlovna’s lodgings; Marya was bought over as a spy.  Marya was given twenty roubles, and after the theft of the letter, Lambert visited Marya a second time, settling with her finally, and promising to pay her two hundred roubles for her services.

That was why Marya had rushed from the flat and galloped off in a sledge to Lambert’s, with the news, as soon as she heard that Katerina Nikolaevna was to be at Tatyana Pavlovna’s at half-past eleven, and that I, too, should be present.  This was just the information she was to bring Lambert; that was precisely the duty assigned her.  Versilov happened to be with Lambert at that very moment.  In one moment Versilov had devised the diabolical plan.  They say that madmen are at times extraordinarily cunning.

The plot was to lure both of us, Tatyana and me, out of the flat at all costs, if only for a quarter of an hour, but before Katerina Nikolaevna arrived.  Then they meant to wait in the street, and as soon as Tatyana Pavlovna and I had come out, to run into the flat, which Marya was to open to them, and there to await Katerina Nikolaevna.  Alphonsine, meantime, was to do her utmost to detain us where and how she pleased.  Katerina Nikolaevna would be sure to come, as she promised, at half-past eleven, so that she would certainly be there long before we could be back.  (Of course, Katerina Nikolaevna had received no summons from Lambert.  Alphonsine had told us a lie and Versilov had invented the story in all its details, and Alphonsine had simply played the part of the frightened traitor.)  Of course, it was a risk, but they probably reasoned that if it answered all would be well, if it failed nothing would have been lost, for the document would still be in their possession.  But it did answer and could not possibly have failed to do so, for we could not but follow Alphonsine on the barest supposition that what she said might be true.  I repeat again: there was no time to reflect.

5

We ran with Trishatov into the kitchen and found Marya in a fright.  She was horrified to notice that when she let Versilov and Lambert in, that the latter had a revolver in his hand.  Though she had taken money, the revolver had not entered into her calculations.  She was bewildered and rushed at me as soon as she saw me.

“The lady has come and they’ve got a pistol!”

“Trishatov, stay here in the kitchen,” I said, “and as soon as I shout, run as quickly as you can to help me.”

Marya opened the door in the passage and I slipped into Tatyana Pavlovna’s bedroom — into the tiny cupboard of a room in which there was only space for Tatyana Pavlovna’s bed, and in which once I had already accidentally played the eavesdropper.  I sat down on the bed and at once found a peephole for myself in the curtain.

There was already a noise in the room and they were talking loudly; I may mention that Katerina Nikolaevna arrived at the flat just a minute after them.  I heard the noise and talk from the kitchen: Lambert was shouting.  She was sitting on the sofa, and he was standing before her shouting like a fool.  Now I know why he lost his head so stupidly: he was in a hurry and afraid they would be discovered.  I will explain later who it was he feared.  The letter was in his hand.  But Versilov was not in the room.  I was ready to rush in at the first sign of danger.  I record only the gist of the conversation, perhaps a good deal I don’t remember correctly, but I was too much excited to remember with perfect accuracy.

“This letter’s worth thirty thousand roubles, and you are surprised!  It’s worth a hundred thousand, and I only ask thirty!” Lambert said in a loud voice, terribly excited.

Though Katerina Nikolaevna was evidently frightened, she looked at him with a sort of contemptuous wonder.

“I see that a trap has been laid for me, and I don’t understand it,” she said: “but if only that letter is really in your hands.” . . . .

“But here it is, see for yourself!  Isn’t that it?  An IOU for thirty thousand and not a farthing less!” Lambert interrupted her.

“I’ve no money.”

“Write an IOU — here’s paper.  Then go and get the money, and I will wait a week — no more. . . .  Give me the money and then I will give you back the IOU and give you the letter.”

“You take such a strange tone.  You are making a mistake.  That letter will be taken from you, if I go to-day and lodge a complaint.”

“To whom?  Ha-ha-ha?  What of the scandal, and we shall show the letter to the prince!  Where are they going to find it?  I don’t keep the document at my lodging.  I shall show it to your father through a third person.  Don’t be obstinate, madam, be thankful that I’m not asking much, any other man would ask for something else besides . . . you know what . . . which many a pretty woman would not refuse in such trying circumstances, that’s what I mean . . . ha-ha-ha!  Vous êtes belle, vous!”

Katerina Nikolaevna rose impetuously, turned crimson — and spat in his face.  Then she turned quickly towards the door.  It was at this point that the fool, Lambert, pulled out the revolver.

Like an unimaginative fool he had put blind faith in the effect of the document; his chief error lay in not distinguishing what sort of woman he had to deal with, because, as I have said already, he thought every one was as mean in their feelings as he was.  He angered her from the first word by his rudeness, though perhaps otherwise she might not have declined to consider the question of payment.

“Don’t stir!” he yelled, furious at her spitting at him, clutching her by the shoulder, and showing her the revolver — simply, of course, to frighten her.  She uttered a shriek and sank on the sofa.  I burst into the room; but, at the same instant, Versilov ran in at the other door.  (He had been standing outside the door waiting.)  In a flash he had snatched the revolver from Lambert, and with all his might hit him on the head with it.  Lambert staggered and fell senseless; the blood streamed from his head upon the carpet.

She saw Versilov, turned suddenly as white as a sheet, gazed at him for some moments immovable with indescribable horror, and fell into a swoon.  He rushed to her.  It all flashes before my eyes as I write.  I remember with what terror I saw his flushed almost purple face and his bloodshot eyes.  I believe that though he saw me in the room he did not recognise me.  He caught her as she fell unconscious, and with amazing ease lifted her up in his arms, as though she were a feather, and began aimlessly carrying her about the room like a baby.  It was a tiny room, but he paced to and fro from corner to corner, evidently with no idea why he was doing so.  In one instant he had lost his reason.  He kept gazing at her, at her face.  I ran after him; what I was most afraid of was the revolver, which he seemed to have forgotten in his right hand, and was holding close to her head.  But he pushed me away, once with his elbow, and the second time with his foot.  I wanted to shout to Trishatov, but I was afraid of irritating the madman.  At last I drew back the curtain and began entreating him to put her on the bed.  He went up and laid her down on it, stood over her, and gazed at her face; and, suddenly bending down, kissed her twice on her pale lips.  Oh, I realised at last that this was a man utterly beside himself.  He suddenly waved the revolver over her, but, as though realising, turned the revolver and aimed it at her face.  I instantly seized his arm and shouted to Trishatov.  I remember we both struggled with him, but he succeeded in pulling away his arm and firing at himself.  He would have shot her and then himself, but since we would not let him get at her, he pressed the revolver against his heart; I succeeded, however, in pushing his arm upwards, and the bullet struck him in the shoulder.  At that instant Tatyana Pavlovna burst into the room shrieking; but he was already lying senseless on the carpet beside Lambert.

CHAPTER XIII

CONCLUSION

1

Almost six months have passed since that scene, much has happened, much has completely changed, and a new life has begun for me since then. . . .  But I must settle what I have left doubtful in my story.

To me at least, the first question at the time, and long afterwards was: how Versilov could have brought himself to act in concert with a man like Lambert, and what were his objects in doing so?  Little by little, I have arrived at an explanation of a sort; to my thinking, at those moments, that is, all that last day and the day before, Versilov can have had no definite aim, and I believe, indeed, he did not reflect on the matter at all, but acted under the influence of a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.  But the theory of actual madness I cannot accept, especially as he is not in the least mad now.  But the “second self” I do accept unquestionably.  What is a second self exactly?  The second self, according to a medical book, written by an expert, which I purposely read afterwards, is nothing else than the first stage of serious mental derangement, which may lead to something very bad.  And in that scene at my mother’s, Versilov himself had with strange frankness described the “duality” of his will and feelings.  But I repeat again: though that scene at mother’s and that broken ikon were undoubtedly partly due to the influence of a real “second self,” yet I have ever since been haunted by the fancy that there was in it an element of a sort of vindictive symbolism, a sort of resentment against the expectations of those women, a sort of angry revolt against their rights and their criticism.  And so hand in hand with the “second self” he broke the ikon, as though to say “that’s how your expectations will be shattered!”  In fact, even though the “second self” did come in, it was partly simply a whim. . . .  But all this is only my theory; it would be hard to decide for certain.