The Idiot (61 page)

‘Yes... well, you are a strange fellow,’ he said. ‘And really, was your reply a serious one, Prince?’

‘Wasn’t your question a serious one?’ retorted the prince in surprise.

They all began to laugh.

‘Trust him,’ said Adelaida. ‘Yevgeny Pavlych always makes a fool of people! If you only knew the things he sometimes says, so solemnly, too!’

‘In my opinion this is a painful conversation, and one that should not have been started at all,’ Alexandra observed sharply. ‘We were going to go out for a walk ...’

‘And let’s go, it’s a lovely evening!’ exclaimed Yevgeny Pavlovich. ‘But, in order to prove to you that on this occasion I was speaking quite seriously, and, principally, in order to prove it to the prince (you have begun to interest me exceedingly, Prince, and I swear to you that I’m not quite such a frivolous fellow as I am sure I must seem - though I am indeed a frivolous fellow!), and ... if you will permit, ladies and gentlemen, I shall ask the prince one final question, out of my own curiosity, and then let us leave it at that. This question came into my head, as if on purpose, two hours ago (you see, Prince, I also sometimes reflect on serious matters); I resolved it, but let us see what the prince says. Just now there was talk of a “particular instance”. That phrase is very significant in our country, one hears it frequently. Not long ago everyone was talking and writing about that dreadful murder of six people by that ... young man and about the strange speech of the defence counsel, in which it was said that because of the criminal’s impoverished state it must have been
natural
for him to kill those six people. That was not the literal wording, but that, I think, was the sense, or nearly so. In my personal opinion, the defence counsel who expressed such a strange idea was utterly convinced that he was saying the most liberal, most humane and progressive thing that could be said in our days. Well, so what do you think: this distortion of concepts and convictions, this possibility of such a twisted and extraordinary view of the matter, is this a particular instance or a general one?’

They all began to laugh loudly.

‘A particular one; of course, a particular one,’ Alexandra and Adelaida laughed.

‘And permit me to remind you again, Yevgeny Pavlych,’ added Prince Shch., that your joke has worn very thin.’

‘What do you think, Prince?’ Yevgeny Pavlovich did not listen to the end, catching Prince Lev Nikolayevich’s inquisitive and serious gaze on him. ‘How does it seem to you: is it a particular instance or a general one? I confess that I thought up this question for you.’

‘No, it’s not a particular one,’ the prince said quietly but firmly.

‘For heaven’s sake, Lev Nikolayevich,’ Prince Shch. exclaimed with some vexation, ‘can’t you see that he’s trying to catch you out; he’s positively laughing at you and is determined to tear you to pieces.’

‘I thought Yevgeny Pavlych was speaking in earnest,’ the prince blushed and lowered his eyes.

‘Dear Prince,’ Prince Shch. continued, ‘remember what you and I talked about once, about three months ago; what we talked about was that it’s now possible to point to so many splendid and talented defence lawyers in our newly opened courts! And about all the splendid jury verdicts there have been! How pleased you were, and how pleased I was at the time about your pleasure ... we said we could be proud ... But this clumsy defence, this strange argument is, of course, an accident, an individual case among thousands.’

Prince Lev Nikolayevich thought for a bit, but with an air of being thoroughly convinced, though he spoke quietly and even almost timidly, replied:

‘All I wanted to say is that the distortion of ideas and concepts (as Yevgeny Pavlych expressed it) is encountered very often, and it’s far more of a general than a particular instance, unfortunately. Even to the point where if this distortion were not such a general instance, there might perhaps not be as many unspeakable crimes like these ...’

‘Unspeakable crimes? But I assure you that crimes of precisely this kind, and, perhaps, even more dreadful, took place earlier, and have always taken place, and not only in our country, but everywhere else as well, and, in my opinion, will go on being repeated for a very long time yet. The difference is that in our country earlier there was less public accountability, whereas now people have begun to talk aloud and even write about them, and that is why it seems as though these criminals have only just appeared. That’s where your mistake lies, Prince, I assure you,’ Prince Shch. smiled mockingly.

‘I know that earlier, too, there were many crimes, and just as dreadful; I’ve recently visited prisons, and I managed to get acquainted with several criminals and accused men. There are criminals even more terrible than this one, men who have murdered ten people without any remorse whatsoever. But what I’ve noticed is that the most hardened and unrepentant murderer knows he is a
criminal,
that is, believes in his conscience that he has acted wrongly, even though he has no remorse. And they are all of them like that; but you see, those people Yevgeny Pavlych started to talk about don’t even want to consider themselves criminals and privately consider that they had a right to do what they did, and ... even did the right thing, I mean, it’s almost like that. It’s there, in my opinion, that the dreadful difference lies. And note that they are all young men, that is, precisely of an age at which one is most vulnerable and prone to fall victim to the distortion of ideas.’

Prince Shch. was no longer laughing, and listened to the prince with a puzzled look. Alexandra Ivanovna, who had long wanted t
o make some observation, fell silent, as though some peculiar thought had stopped her. As for Yevgeny Pavlovich, he looked at the prince in genuine surprise, and on this occasion now without the slightest of ironical smiles.

‘But why are you so surprised at him, my dear sir,’ Lizaveta Prokofyevna intervened unexpectedly. ‘Did you think he was more stupid than you, and couldn’t argue as you do, is that what it is?’

‘No, ma’am, I was not concerned with that,’ said Yevgeny Pavlovich. ‘It’s just that, well, how did it come about that you, Prince (forgive me asking), if you see things like that and argue that way, how was it (forgive me again) that in that strange business ... the incident that took place the other day ... involving Burdovsky, I think ... how was it that you didn’t notice any distortion of ideas and moral convictions there? I mean, it’s exactly the same! It seemed to me at the time that you hadn’t noticed it.’

‘Well I’ll tell you this, my dear,’ Lizaveta Prokofyevna said vehemently, ‘we noticed everything, sitting here boasting in front of him, and today he got a letter from one of them, the main, the pimply one, you remember, Alexandra? In the letter he asks his forgiveness, though in his own manner, and declares that he has broken with that companion of his who egged him on at the time - you remember, Alexandra? And that he has more faith in the prince now. Well, but we haven’t yet had a letter like that, so we can’t turn up our noses at him here.’

‘And Ippolit has also just moved into our dacha!’ cried Kolya.

‘What? Is he here already?’ the prince said in alarm.

‘He arrived just after you left with Lizaveta Prokofyevna; I brought him over!’

‘Oh, I’ll bet you,’ Lizaveta Prokofyevna boiled up suddenly, completely forgetting that she had just been praising the prince, ‘I’ll bet you he went to see him in his garret yesterday and begged forgiveness of him on his knees to get that malicious little snake to consent to move over here. Did you go there yesterday? Why, you confessed it yourself earlier. Did you or not? Did you get down on your knees?’

‘Of course he didn’t,’ cried Kolya, ‘but quite the opposite: Ippolit seized the prince’s hand yesterday and kissed it twice, I saw it myself, and that was the end of the whole discussion, except that the prince simply said that Ippolit would feel better at the dacha, and Ippolit agreed to come there at once, as soon as he felt better.’

‘You oughtn’t to say that, Kolya ...’ muttered the prince, getting up and grabbing his hat, ‘why are you telling them that...’

‘Where are you going?’ Lizaveta Prokofyevna stopped him.

‘Don’t worry, Prince,’ the excited Kolya continued. ‘Don’t go and bother him, he’s fallen asleep after the journey; he’s very happy; and you know, Prince, in my opinion, it would be far better if you didn’t meet today; even put it off until tomorrow, or else he’ll get embarrassed again. Yesterday morning he said that he hadn’t felt so well and strong for a whole six months; he’s even coughing much less.’

The prince noticed that Aglaya had suddenly left her place and gone over to the table. He did not dare to look at her, but he felt with all his being that at that moment she was looking at him and was, perhaps, looking sternly, that there was certainly indignation in her black eyes, and her face was flushed.

‘Well, Nikolai Ardalionovich, I think you ought not to have brought him here, if this is the same consumptive boy who burst into tears that time and invited us to his funeral,’ observed Yevgeny Pavlovich. ‘He spoke so eloquently that night about the wall of the house next door that he must surely be pining away for it, you may be certain of that.’

‘What you say is true: he’ll fall out with you, fight with you and go away, that’s the whole story!’

And with dignity Lizaveta Prokofyevna moved up her sewing-basket, forgetting that everyone was getting up to go out for a walk.

‘I remember he used to boast a lot about that wall,’ Yevgeny Pavlovich interjected again. ‘Without that wall he won’t be able to die eloquently, and he very much wants to die eloquently.’

‘So what, then?’ muttered the prince. ‘If you’re not willing to forgive him, he’ll die without you ... Now he’s come for the sake of the trees.’

‘Oh, as far as I’m concerned I forgive him everything; you can tell him that.’

‘That’s not what I meant,’ the prince replied quietly and almost reluctantly, continuing to look at one point on the floor, and without raising his eyes. ‘What I meant was that you must agree to accept forgiveness from him, too.’

‘How am I involved here? In what way am I guilty before him?’

‘If you don’t understand, then ... but I mean, you do understand; that time he wanted to ... bless you all and receive blessing from you, that’s all ...’

‘Dear Prince,’ Prince Shch. interjected somewhat cautiously, exchanging glances with some of those present, ‘paradise on earth is not attained easily; but you rely on paradise a little too much; paradise is a difficult thing, Prince, far more difficult than it seems to your splendid heart. Let’s stop this, for otherwise I think we shall indeed all get embarrassed again, and then ...’

‘Let’s go and listen to the band,’ Lizaveta Prokofyevna said sharply, getting up from her place in anger.

Everyone else rose, too.

The prince suddenly went up to Yevgeny Pavlovich.

‘Yevgeny Pavlovich,’ he said with strange fervour, seizing him by the arm, ‘be assured that I consider you the most noble and best of men, in spite of everything; be assured of that ...’

Yevgeny Pavlovich even took a step backwards in surprise. For a moment he restrained himself from an irresistible fit of laughter; but, taking a closer look, he noticed that the prince was somehow not himself, or at least in some peculiar condition.

‘I’ll wager, Prince,’ he exclaimed, ‘that you wanted to say something else and, perhaps, not to me at all ... But what is wrong with you? You’re not feeling ill, are you?’

‘Possibly, very possibly, and that was a very subtle observation, that perhaps it wasn’t you I wanted to approach!’

Having said this, he smiled a strange and even absurd smile, but then suddenly, as if working himself into a passion, exclaimed:

‘Don’t remind me of my action three days ago! I have felt very ashamed these past three days ... I know that I’m to blame ...’

‘But... but what did you do that was so dreadful?’

‘I see that you, perhaps more than anyone else, are ashamed of me, Yevgeny Pavlovich; you’re blushing, that is the mark of a noble heart. I’m going right now, rest assured.’

‘But what’s he talking about? Is this how his fits begin?’ Lizaveta Prokofyevna turned to Kolya in alarm.

‘Don’t pay any attention, Lizaveta Prokofyevna, I’m not having a fit; I’m going right now. I know that I’m ... afflicted by nature. I was ill for twenty-four years, until the age of twenty-four. So accept what I say now as coming from someone who is ill. I am going right now, right now, rest assured. I am not blushing - because after all it would be strange to blush over this, would it not? - but in company I am superfluous ... I don’t say it out of vanity ... I’ve been thinking things over these past three days and have decided that I have a duty to inform you sincerely and honourably at the earliest opportunity. There are ideas, there are lofty ideas of which I must not start to speak, because I’ll be bound to make you all laugh; Prince Shch. reminded me of that just now ... I have no decent gestures, no sense of proportion; my words are different, and my thoughts do not conform, and that’s a humiliation for those thoughts. And so I don’t have the right ... what’s more, I’m hypersensitive,

I ... I’m convinced that in this house no one can hurt me or love me more than I deserve, but I know (I mean, I know for certain) that after twenty years of illness there cannot fail to be some sort of residue, so that people will be bound to laugh at me ... sometimes ... it’s true, isn’t it?’

He seemed to be waiting for a reply and a resolution, looking around him. They all stood in painful bewilderment at this unexpected, morbid and, it would seem, at any rate unmotivated outburst. But the outburst formed the pretext for a strange episode.

‘Why are you saying this here?’ Aglaya suddenly exclaimed. ‘Why are you saying it to them? Them! Them!’

She seemed to be in the last degree of indignation: her eyes were blazing. The prince stood before her mute and speechless and suddenly turned pale.