 Part 1 Chapter 1 of The Idiot. This is a LibriVox recording, all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Martin Giesen. The Idiot by Fyodor Dostoyevsky. Translated by Eva M. Martin. Part 1 Chapter 1. Towards the end of November, during a thaw, at nine o'clock one morning, a train on the Warsaw and Petersburg Railway was approaching the latter city at full speed. The morning was so damp and misty that it was only with great difficulty that the day succeeded in breaking, and it was impossible to distinguish anything more than a few yards away from the carriage windows. Some of the passengers by this particular train were returning from abroad, but the third class carriages were the best filled, chiefly with insignificant persons of various occupations and degrees, picked up at the different stations near a town. All of them seemed weary, and most of them had sleepy eyes and a shivering expression, while their complexions generally appeared to have taken on the colour of the fog outside. When day dawned, two passengers in one of the third class carriages found themselves opposite each other. Both were young fellows, both were rather poorly dressed, both had remarkable faces, and both were evidently anxious to start a conversation. If they had but known why, at this particular moment, they were both remarkable persons, they would undoubtedly have wondered at the strange chance which had set them down opposite to one another in a third class carriage of the Warsaw Railway Company. One of them was a young fellow of about twenty-seven, not tall, with black curling hair and small grey fiery eyes. His nose was broad and flat, and he had high cheekbones. His thin lips were constantly compressed into an impudent, ironical, it might almost be called a malicious, smile. But his forehead was high and well-formed, and atoned for a good deal of the ugliness of the lower part of his face. A special feature of this physiognomy was its death-like pallor, which gave to the whole man an indescribably emaciated appearance, in spite of his hard look, and at the same time a sort of passionate and suffering expression which did not harmonise with his impudent, sarcastic smile and keen, self-satisfied bearing. He wore a large fur, or rather astrakhan, overcoat, which had kept him warm all night, while his neighbour had been obliged to bear the full severity of a Russian November night entirely unprepared. His wide sleeveless mantle with a large cape to it, the sort of cloak one sees upon travellers during the winter months in Switzerland or North Italy, was by no means adapted to the long cold journey through Russia, from Eidkuhnen to St. Petersburg. The wearer of this cloak was a young fellow also of about twenty-six or twenty-seven years of age, slightly above the middle height, very fair, with a thin, pointed and very light-coloured beard. His eyes were large and blue, and had an intent look about them, yet that heavy expression which some people affirm to be a peculiarity as well as evidence of an epileptic subject. His face was decidedly a pleasant one for all that, refined but quite colourless, except for the circumstance that at this moment it was blue with cold. He held a bundle made up of an old faded silk handkerchief that apparently contained all his travelling wardrobe, and wore thick shoes and gaiters, his whole appearance being very un-Russian. His black-haired neighbour inspected these peculiarities, having nothing better to do, and at length remarked with that rude enjoyment of the discomforts of others which the common classes so often show. Cold? Very, said his neighbour readily, and this is a thaw, too. Fancy if it had been a hard frost. I never thought it would be so cold in the old country. I've grown quite out of the way of it. What been abroad, I suppose? Yes, straight from Switzerland. Phew! My goodness! The black-haired young fellow whistled, and then laughed. The conversation proceeded. The readiness of the fair-haired young man in the cloak to answer all his opposite neighbour's questions was surprising. He seemed to have no suspicion of any impertinence or inappropriateness in the fact of such questions being put to him. According to them he made known to the inquirer that he certainly had been long absent from Russia more than four years, that he had been sent abroad for his health, that he had suffered from some strange nervous malady, a kind of epilepsy with convulsive spasms. His interlocutor burst out laughing several times at his answers, and more than ever went to the question whether he had been cured, the patient replied, No! They did not cure me. Ha! That's it! You stumped up your money for nothing, and we believe in those fellows here," remarked the black-haired individual sarcastically. "'Gospel truth, sir, gospel truth,' exclaimed another passenger, a shabbily dressed man of about forty, who looked like a clerk, and possessed a red nose and a very blotchy face. Gospel truth! All they do is get hold of our good Russian money, free, gratis, and for nothing. "'Oh! But you're quite wrong in my particular instance,' said the Swiss patient quietly. "'Of course I can't argue the matter, because I know only my own case. But my doctor gave me money, and he had very little, to pay my journey back, besides having kept me at his own expense while there for nearly two years. "'Why, was there no one else to pay for you?' asked the black-haired one. "'No, Mr. Pavlychev, who had been supporting me there, died a couple of years ago. I wrote to Mrs. General Yeppanchin at the time. She is a distant relative of mine, but she did not answer my letter, and so eventually I came back. "'And where have you come to? That is, where am I going to stay? I really don't quite know yet. I—both the listeners laughed again. "'I suppose your whole set-up is in that bundle, then,' asked the first. "'I bet anything it is,' exclaimed the red-nosed passenger, with extreme satisfaction, and that he has precious little in the luggage-van. Though, of course, poverty is no crime, we must remember that. It appeared that it was indeed, as they had surmised, the young fellow hastened to admit the fact with wonderful readiness. "'Your bundle has some importance, however,' continued the clerk when they had laughed their fill. It was observable that the subject of their mirth joined in the laughter when he saw them laughing. "'For though I dare say it is not stuffed full of Friedrich's door and Louis's door, judge from your costume and gaiters, still, if you can add to your possession such a valuable property as a relation like Mrs. General Yeppanchin, then your bundle becomes a significant object at once. That is, of course, if you really are a relative of Mrs. Yeppanchin's, and have not made a little error through wealth, absence of mind, which is very common to human beings, or say through a true luxuriant fancy. "'Oh, you are right again,' said the fair-head traveller, "'for I really am almost wrong when I say she and I are related. She is hardly a relation at all. So little, in fact, that I was not in the least surprised to have no answer to my letter. I expected as much.' "'Hm! You spent your postage for nothing, then.' "'Hm! You are candid, however, and that is commendable.' "'Mrs. Yeppanchin—oh, yes, a most eminent person. I know her. As for Mr. Pavlychev, who supported you in Switzerland, I know him, too. At least if it was to Nikolai Andreevich of that name. A fine fellow he was, and had a property of four thousand souls in his day. Yes, Nikolai Andreevich, that was his name, and the young fellow looked earnestly and with curiosity at the all-knowing gentleman with the red nose. This sort of character is met with pretty frequently in a certain class. They are people who know everyone. That is, they know where a man is employed, what his salary is, whom he knows, whom he married, what money his wife had, who are his cousins and second cousins, etc., etc. These men generally have about a hundred pounds a year to live on, and they spend their whole time and talents in the amassing of this style of knowledge, which they reduce, or raise, to the standard of a science. During the latter part of the conversation the black-haired young man had become very impatient. He stared out of the window and fidgeted, and evidently longed for the end of the journey. He was very absent. He would appear to listen and heard nothing, and he would laugh of a sudden, evidently with no idea of what he was laughing about. "'Excuse me,' said the red-nosed man to the young fellow with the bundle, rather suddenly, "'whom have I the honour to be talking to?' "'Prince Lyov Nikolayevich Mushkin,' replied the latter, with perfect readiness. "'Prince Mushkin, Lyov Nikolayevich, hmm, I don't know, I'm sure. I may say I have never heard of such a person,' said the clerk thoughtfully. "'At least the name, I admit, is historical. Karamsin must mention the family name, of course, in his history. But as an individual, one never hears of any Prince Mushkin nowadays.' "'Of course not,' replied the Prince, "'there are none except myself. I believe I am the last and only one. As to my forefathers, they have always been a poor lot. My own father was a sub-left tenant in the army. I don't know how Mrs. Yepanchin comes into the Mushkin family, but she is descended from the Princess Mushkin, and she too is the last of her line. And did you learn science and all that with your professor over there?' asked the black-haired passenger. "'Oh, yes, I did learn a little, but I've never learned anything, whatever,' said the other. "'Oh, but I learnt very little, you know,' added the Prince, as though excusing himself. They could not teach me very much on account of my illness. "'Do you know the Rogozhin's?' asked his questioner abruptly. "'No, I don't, not at all. I hardly know anyone in Russia. Why is that your name?' "'Yes, I am Rogozhin, Parfion Rogozhin.' "'Parfion Rogozhin, dear me, then don't you belong to those very Rogozhin's, perhaps?' began the clerk, with a very perceptible increase of civility in his tone. "'Yes, those very ones,' interrupted Rogozhin impatiently and with scant courtesy, I may remark that he had not once taken any notice of the blotchy-faced passenger, and had hitherto addressed all his remarks direct to the Prince. "'Dear me, is it possible?' observed the clerk, while his face assumed an expression of great deference and civility, if not of absolute alarm. "'What! a son of that very Semion Rogozhin, hereditary honourable citizen, who died a month or so ago, and left two million and a half of rubles! And how do you know that he left two million and a half of rubles?' asked Rogozhin disdainfully, and not daining so much as to look at the other. "'However, it's true enough that my father died a month ago, and that here am I returning from Pskov a month after, with hardly a boot to my foot. They've treated me like a dog. I've been ill of fever at Pskov the whole time, and not a line, nor farthing of money have I received from my mother or my confounded brother. And now you'll have a million rubles, at least, goodness gracious me!' exclaimed the clerk, rubbing his hands. "'Five weeks since I was just like yourself,' continued Rogozhin, addressing the prince, with nothing but a bundle and the clothes I wore. I ran away from my father and came to Pskov to my aunt's house, where I caved in at once with fever, and he went and died while I was away. All honour to my respected father's memory, but he uncommonly nearly killed me all the same. Give you my word, prince, if I hadn't cut and run then, when I did, he'd have murdered me like a dog. I suppose you angered him somehow,' asked the prince, looking at the millionaire with considerable curiosity. But though there may have been something remarkable in the fact that this man was heir to millions of rubles, there was something about him which surprised and interested the prince more than that. Rogozhin, too, seemed to have taken up the conversation with unusual alacrity. It appeared that he was still in a considerable state of excitement, if not absolutely feverish, and was in real need of some one to talk to, for the mere sake of talking, a safety valve to his agitation. As for his red-nosed neighbour, the latter, since the information as to the identity of Rogozhin, hung over him, seemed to be living on the honey of his words and in the breath of his nostrils, catching at every syllable as though it were a pearl of great price. "'Oh yes, I angered him. I certainly did anger him,' replied Rogozhin. "'But what puts me out so is my brother. Of course my mother couldn't do anything. She's too old. And whatever brother Shonka said is law for her. But why couldn't he let me know? He sent a telegram, they say. What's the good of a telegram? It frightened my aunt so that she sent it back to the office unopened, and there it's been ever since. It's only thanks to Konyev that I heard at all he wrote me all about it. He says my brother cut off the gold tassels from my father's coffin at night because they're worth a lot of money,' says he. "'Why, I can get him sent off to Siberia for that alone, if I like. It's sacrilege.' "'Here you, scarecrow,' he added, addressing the clerk at his side, "'is it sacrilege or not by law?' "'Sacrilege certainly—certainly sacrilege,' said the latter. "'And it's Siberia for sacrilege, isn't it?' "'Undoubtedly so—Siberia, of course.' "'They will think that I'm still ill,' continued Rogozhin to the prince. But I sloped off quietly, seedy as I was, took the train, and came away. "'Ah, brother Shonka, you'll have to open your gates and let me in, my boy. I know he told tales about me to my father. I know that well enough. But I certainly did rile my father about Nastasya Philipovna. That's very sure, that that was my own doing.' "'Nastasya Philipovna,' said the clerk, as though trying to think out something. "'Come, you know nothing about her,' said Rogozhin impatiently. "'And supposing I do know something,' observed the other triumphantly. "'Bosh! There are plenty of Nastasya Philipovnas. And what an impertinent beast you are!' he added angrily. "'I thought some creature like you would hang on to me as soon as I got hold of my money.' "'Oh, but I do know as it happens,' said the clerk, in an aggravating manner. "'Lebedyev knows all about her. You are pleased to reproach me, your Excellency. But what if I prove that I am right after all?' "'Nastasya Philipovna's family name is Barashkov. I know you see, and she is a very well-known lady indeed, and comes of a good family, too. She is connected with Wontotsky, Afanasiy Ivanovich, a man of considerable property, a director of companies, and so on, and a great friend of General Yipanchin, who is interested in the same matters as he is.' "'My eyes,' said Rogozhin, really surprised at last, the devil take the fellow. How does he know that?' "'Why, he knows everything. Lebedyev knows everything. I was a month or two with Lebedyev, after his father died, your Excellency, and while he was knocking about, he's in the debtor's prison now, I was with him, and he couldn't do a thing without Lebedyev. And I got to know Nastasya Philipovna, and several people at that time. Nastasya Philipovna, why, you don't mean to say that she and Lecharchov, cried Rogozhin, turning quite pale?' "'No, no, no, no, no, nothing of the sort, I assure you,' said Lebedyev hastily. "'Oh, dear, no, not for the world. Totsky's the only man with any chance there. Oh, no! He takes her to his box at the opera, at the French theatre, of an evening, and the officers and people all look at her and say, by Jove, there's the famous Nastasya Philipovna. But no one ever gets any further than that, for there is nothing more to say.' "'Yes, it's quite true,' said Rogozhin, frowning gloomily. Sozalezhov told me. I was walking about the Gnievsky-won fine day, Prince, in my father's old coat, when she suddenly came out of a shop and stepped into her carriage. I swear I was all of a blaze at once. Then I met Zalezhov, looking like a hairdresser's assistant, got up as fine as I don't know who, while I looked like a tinker. "'Don't flatter yourself, my boy,' said he. "'She's not for such as you, she's a princess, she is, and her name is Nastasya Philipovna Barashev, and she lives with Totsky, who wishes to get rid of her because he's growing rather old, fifty-five or so, and wants to marry a certain beauty, the loveliest woman in all Petersburg. And then he told me that I could see Nastasya Philipovna at the opera house that evening, if I liked, and described which was her box. Well, I'd like to see my father allowing any of us to go to the theatre. He'd sooner have killed us any day. However, I went for an hour or so, and saw Nastasya Philipovna, and I never slept a wink all night after. Next morning my father happened to give me two government loan bonds to sell, worth nearly five thousand rubles each. Sell them, said he, and then take seven thousand five hundred rubles to the office, give them to the cashier, and bring me back the rest of the ten thousand, without looking in anywhere on the way. Look sharp, I shall be waiting for you. Well I sold the bonds, but I didn't take the seven thousand rubles to the office. I went straight to the English shop, and chose a pair of earrings, with a diamond the size of a nut in each. They cost four hundred rubles more than I had, so I gave my name, and they trusted me. With the earrings I went at once to Zalezhuf's. Come on, I said, come on to Nastasya Philipovna's. And off we went, without more ado. I tell you, I hadn't a notion of what was about me, or before me, or below my feet, all the way. I saw nothing whatever. She went straight into her drawing-room, and then she came out to us. I didn't dare say right out who I was, but Zalezhuf said, from Parfion Rogozhin, in memory of his first meeting with you yesterday, be so kind as to accept these. She opened the parcel, looked at the earrings, and laughed. Thank your friend Mr. Rogozhin for his kind attention, says she, and bowed and went off. Why didn't I die there on the spot? The worst of it all, though, was that the beast Zalezhuf got all the credit of it. I was short and abominably dressed, and stood and stared in her face and never said a word, because I was shy, like an ass. And there was he all in the fashion, pomaded and dressed out, with a smart tie on, bowing and scraping, and I bet anything she took him for me all the while. Look here now, I said, when we came out. None of your interference here after this, do you understand? He laughed. And how are you going to settle up with your father, says he. I thought I might as well jump into the Nieve at once, without going home first. But it struck me that I wouldn't, after all, and I went home feeling like one of the damned. My goodness! shivered the clerk, and his father he added for the prince's instruction, and his father would have given a man a ticket to the other world for ten rubles any day, not to speak of ten thousand. The prince observed Rogozhin with great curiosity. He seemed paler than ever at this moment. What do you know about it? cried the latter. Well, my father learned the whole story at once, and Zalezhov blabbed it all over the town besides. So he took me upstairs, and locked me up, and swore at me for an hour. This is only a foretaste, says he. Wait a bit till night comes, and I'll come back and talk to you again. Well, what do you think? The old fellow went straight off to Nastasia Philipovna, touched the floor with his forehead, and began blubbering and beseeching her on his knees to give him back the diamonds. So after a while she brought the box, and flew out at him. There, she says, take your earrings, you wretched old miser! Although they are ten times dearer than their value to me, now that I know what it must have cost Parfion to get them. Give Parfion my compliments," she says, and thank him very much. Well, I meanwhile had borrowed twenty-five rubles from a friend, and off I went to Peskov to my aunt's. The old woman there lectured me so that I left the house, and went on a drinking tour round the public houses of the place. I was in a high fever when I got to Peskov, and by nightfall I was lying delirious in the streets somewhere or other. Oh, ho! We'll make Nastasia Philipovna sing another song now," giggled Lebedyev, rubbing his hands with glee. Hey, my boy, we'll get her some proper earrings now! We'll get her such earrings that—'Look here!' cried Rogojin, seizing him fiercely by the arm. Look here, if you so much as name Nastasia Philipovna again, I'll tan your hide, as sure as you sit there. Aha! Do by all means! If you tan my hide, you won't turn me away from your society. You'll bind me to you, with your lash, for ever. Ha-ha-ha! Here we are at the station, though." Sure enough, the train was just steaming in as he spoke. Though Rogojin had declared that he left Peskov secretly, a large collection of friends had assembled to greet him, and did so with profuse waving of hats and shouting. Why, there's the leisure here, too! He muttered gazing at the scene with a sort of triumphant but unpleasant smile. Then he suddenly turned to the prince. Prince, I don't know why I've taken a fancy to you. That's because I met you just when I did. But no, it can't be that, for I met this fellow nodding at Lebedev, too, and I have not taken a fancy to him by any means. Come to see me, Prince, we'll take off those gaiters of yours, and dress you up in a smart fur coat, the best we can buy. You shall have a dress coat, best quality, white waistcoat, anything you like, and your pocket shall be full of money. Come, and you shall go with me to Nastasia Filippovna's. Now then, will you come or no? Accept, accept, Prince Lyov Nikolaevich, said Lebedev solemnly. Don't let it slip, accept, quick! Prince Mishkin rose and stretched out his hand courteously, while he replied with some cordiality. I will come with the greatest pleasure, and thank you very much for taking a fancy to me. I daresay I may even come to-day if I have time, for I tell you frankly that I like you very much, too. I liked you especially when you told us about the diamond earrings, but I liked you before that as well, though you have such a dark, clouded sort of face. Thanks very much for the offer of clothes and a fur coat. I shall certainly require both clothes and coat very soon. As for money, I have hardly a co-peck about me at this moment. You shall have lots of money. By the evening I shall have plenty, so come along. That's true enough he'll have lots before evening, put in Lebedev. But look here! Are you a great hand with the ladies? Let's know that first, Astrogogin. Oh, no! Oh, no! said the Prince. I couldn't, you know, my illness. I hardly ever saw a soul. Hmm. Well, here you, fellow, you can come along with me now if you like," cried Rogozhin to Lebedev, and so they all left the carriage. Lebedev had his desire. He went off with the noisy group of Rogozhin's friends towards the Voznesiansky, while the Prince's route laid towards the Litynaya. It was damp and wet. The Prince asked his way of passers-by, and finding that he was a couple of miles or so from his destination, he determined to take a droshke. End of Part 1, Chapter 1. Recording by Martin Giesen in Hazelmere Surrey. Part 1, Chapter 2 of The Idiot. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Martin Giesen. The Idiot by Fyodor Dastayevsky. Translated by Eva M. Martin. Part 1, Chapter 2. General Yepanchin lived in his own house near the Litynaya. Besides this large residence, five-sixth of which was let in flats and lodgings, the general was owner of another enormous house in the Sadovaya, bringing in even more rent than the first. Besides these houses, he had a delightful little estate just out of town, and some sort of factory in another part of the city. General Yepanchin, as everyone knew, had a good deal to do with certain government monopolies. He was also a voice, and an important one, in many rich public companies of various descriptions. In fact he enjoyed the reputation of being a well-to-do man of busy habits, many ties and affluent means. He had made himself indispensable in several quarters, amongst others in his department of the government, and yet it was a known fact that Fyodor Ivanovich Yepanchin was a man of no education whatever, and had absolutely risen from the ranks. This last fact could, of course, reflect nothing but credit upon the general, and yet, though unquestionably a sagacious man, he had his own little weaknesses, very excusable ones, one of which was a dislike to any allusion to the above circumstance. He was undoubtedly clever. For instance he made a point of never asserting himself when he would gain more by keeping in the background, and in consequence many exalted personages valued him principally for his humility and simplicity, and because he knew his place. And yet if these good people could only have had a peep into the mind of this excellent fellow, who knew his place so well, the fact is that in spite of his knowledge of the world, and his really remarkable abilities, he always liked to appear to be carrying out other people's ideas rather than his own. And also his luck seldom failed him, even at cards for which he had a passion that he did not attempt to conceal. He played for high stakes, and moved altogether in very varied society. As to age, General Yepanchin was in the very prime of life, that is about fifty-five years of age, the flowering time of existence when real enjoyment of life begins. His healthy appearance, good colour, sound though discoloured teeth, sturdy figure, preoccupied air during business hours, and jolly good humour during his game at cards in the evening, all bore witness to his success in life, and combined to make existence a bed of roses to his Excellency. The general was lord of a flourishing family, consisting of his wife and three grown-up daughters. He had married young, while still a lieutenant, his wife being a girl of about his own age, who possessed neither beauty nor education, and who brought him no more than fifty souls of landed property, which little estate served, however, as a nest egg for far more important accumulations. The general never regretted his early marriage, or regarded it as a foolish youthful escapade, and he so respected and feared his wife that he was very near loving her. Mrs. Yepanchin came of the princely stock of Mwishkin, which if not a brilliant was at all events a decidedly ancient family, and she was extremely proud of her descent. With a few exceptions the worthy couple had lived through their long union very happily. While still young, the wife had been able to make important friends among the aristocracy, partly by virtue of her family descent, and partly by her own exertions. While in afterlife, thanks to their wealth, and to the position of her husband in the service, she took her place among the higher circles as by right. During these last few years, all three of the general's daughters Alexandra, Adelaida and Aglaya, had grown up and matured. Of course they were only Yepanchins, but their mother's family was noble. They might expect considerable fortunes, their father had hopes of attaining to very high rank indeed in his country's service, all of which was satisfactory. All three of the girls were decidedly pretty, even the eldest Alexandra, who was just twenty-five years old. The middle daughter was now twenty-three, while the youngest Aglaya was twenty. This youngest girl was absolutely a beauty, and had begun of late to attract considerable attention in society. But this was not all, for every one of the three was clever, well educated, and accomplished. It was a matter of general knowledge that the three girls were very fond of one another, and supported each other in every way. It was even said that the two elder ones had made certain sacrifices for the sake of the idol of the household, Aglaya. In society they not only disliked asserting themselves, but were actually retiring. Certainly no one could blame them for being too arrogant or haughty, and yet everybody was well aware that they were proud, and quite understood their own value. The eldest was musical, while the second was a clever artist, which fact she had concealed until lately. In a word the world spoke well of the girls, but they were not without their enemies, and occasionally people talked with horror of the number of books they had read. They were in no hurry to marry. They liked good society, but were not too keen about it. All this was the more remarkable, because everyone was well aware of the hopes and aims of their parents. It was about eleven o'clock in the forenoon when the prince rang the bell at General Yepanchin's door. The general lived on the first floor, or flat, of the house, as modest a lodging as his position permitted. A livered servant opened the door, and the prince was obliged to enter into long explanations with this gentleman, who from the first glance looked at him and his bundle with grave suspicion. At last, however, on the repeated positive assurance that he really was Prince Muishkin, and must absolutely see the general on business, the bewildered domestic showed him into a little ante-chamber leading to a waiting-room that had joined the general's study, there handing Mova to another servant, whose duty it was to be in this ante-chamber all the morning, and announce visitors to the general. This second individual wore a dress-coat, and was some forty years of age. He was the general's special study-servant, and well aware of his own importance. Wait in the next room, please, and leave your bundle here," said the doorkeeper, as he sat down comfortably in his own easy chair in the ante-chamber. He looked at the prince in severe surprise, as the latter settled himself in another chair alongside, with his bundle on his knees. "'If you don't mind, I would rather sit here with you,' said the prince. "'I should prefer it to sitting in there.'" "'Oh, but you can't stay here. You are a visitor—a guest, so to speak. Is it the general himself you wish to see?' The man evidently could not take in the idea of such a shabby-looking visitor, and had decided to ask once more. "'Yes, I have business,' began the prince. "'I do not ask you what your business may be. All I have to do is to announce you. And unless the secretary comes in here, I cannot do that.'" The man's suspicions seemed to increase more and more. The prince was too unlike the usual run of daily visitors, and although the general certainly did receive, on business, all sorts and conditions of men, yet in spite of this fact the servant felt great doubts on the subject of this particular visitor. The presence of the secretary as an intermediary was he judged essential in this case. "'Surely you are from abroad,' he inquired at last, in a confused sort of way. He had begun his sentence intending to say, "'Surely you are not Prince Mwishkin, are you?' "'Yes, straight from the train. Did not you intend to say, "'Surely you are not Prince Mwishkin, just now, but refrained out of politeness?' grunted the astonished servant. "'I assure you I am not deceiving you. You shall not have to answer for me, as to my being dressed like this, and carrying a bundle. There's nothing surprising in that. The fact is my circumstances are not particularly rosy at this moment. "'No, no, I'm not afraid of that, you see. I have to announce you, that's all. The secretary will be out directly. That is unless you—yes, that's the rub—unless you come. You must allow me to ask you. You've not come to beg, have you?' "'Oh, dear, no. You can be perfectly easy on that score. I have quite another matter on hand. You must excuse my asking, you know. Your appearance led me to think—' "'But just wait for the secretary. The general is busy now, but the secretary is sure to come out.' "'Oh, well, look here. If I have some time to wait, would you mind telling me, is there any place about where I could have a smoke? I have my pipe and tobacco with me.' "'Smoke!' said the man in shock, but disdainful surprise, blinking his eyes at the prince as though he could not believe his senses. "'No, sir, you cannot smoke here. And I wonder you are not ashamed of the very suggestion. Ah! A cool idea that, I declare!' "'Oh, I didn't mean in this room. I know I can't smoke here, of course. I'd adjourn to some other room, wherever you'd like to show me to. You see, I'm used to smoking a good deal, and now I haven't had a puff for three hours. However, just as you like. Now, how on earth am I to announce a man like that?' muttered the servant. "'In the first place, you've no right in here at all. You ought to be in the waiting-room, because you're a sort of visitor—a guest, in fact. And I shall catch it for this. Look here, do you intend to take up your abode with us?' He added glancing once more at the prince's bundle, which evidently gave him no peace. "'No, I don't think so. I don't think I should stay, even if they were to invite me. I've simply come to make their acquaintance, and nothing more.' "'Make their acquaintance?' asked the man in amazement, and with redoubled suspicion. Then why did you say you had business with the general?' "'Oh, well, very little business. There is one little matter. Some advice I'm going to ask him for. But my principal object is simply to introduce myself, because I am Prince Muishkin, and Madame Yepanchin is the last of her branch of the house, and besides herself and me there are no other Muishkins left. "'What? You're a relation, then, are you?' asked the servant so bewildered that he began to feel quite alarmed. "'Well, hardly so. If you stretch a point, we are relations, of course, but so distant that one cannot really take cognizance of it. I once wrote to your mistress from abroad, but she did not reply. However, I have thought it right to make acquaintance with her on my arrival. I am telling you all this in order to ease your mind, for I see you are still far from comfortable on my account. All you have to do is to announce me as Prince Muishkin, and the object of my visit will be plain enough. If I am received, very good. If not, well, very good again. But they are sure to receive me, I should think. Madame Yepanchin will naturally be curious to see the only remaining representative of her family. She values her Muishkin descent very highly, if I am rightly informed." The Prince's conversation was artless and confiding to a degree, and the servant could not help feeling that, as from visitor to common serving man, this state of things was highly improper. His conclusion was that one of two things must be the explanation. Either that this was a begging imposter, or that the Prince, if Prince he were, was simply a fool, without the slightest ambition, for a sensible Prince with any ambition would certainly not wait about in anti-rums with servants, and talk of his own private affairs like this. In either case, how was he to announce this singular visitor? I really think I must request you to step into the next room, he said, with all the insistence he could muster. Why? If I had been sitting there now, I should not have had the opportunity of making these personal explanations. I see you are still uneasy about me, and keep eyeing my cloak and bundle. Don't you think you might go in yourself now, without waiting for the secretary to come out? No, no, I can't announce a visitor like yourself without the secretary. Besides the general said he was not to be disturbed. He is with the Colonel C. Gavrila Ardalyonovich goes in without announcing. Who may that be, a clerk? What? Gavrila Ardalyonovich? Oh, no, he belongs to one of the companies. Look here at all events, put your bundle down here. Yes, I will, if I may, and can I take off my cloak? Of course, you can't go in there with it on, anyhow. The Prince rose and took off his mantle, revealing a neat enough mourning costume, little worn but well made. He wore a steel watch chain, and from this chain there hung a silver Geneva watch. Fool, the Prince might be! Still the general's servant felt that it was not correct for him to continue to converse thus with a visitor, in spite of the fact that the Prince pleased him somehow. And what time of day does the lady receive, the latter asked, reseating himself in his old place? Oh, that's not in my province. I believe she receives at any time. It depends on the visitors. The dressmaker goes in at eleven. Gavrila Ardalyonovich is allowed much earlier than other people, too. He is even admitted to early lunch now and then. It is much warmer in the rooms here than it is abroad at this season, observed the Prince, but it is much warmer there, out of doors. As for the houses, a Russian can't live in them in the winter until he gets accustomed to them. Don't they heat them at all? Well, they do heat them a little, but the houses and stoves are so different to ours. Hmm, were you long away? Four years, and I was in the same place nearly all the time, in one village. You must have forgotten Russia, hadn't you? Yes, indeed I had, a good deal. And would you believe it, I often wonder at myself for not having forgotten how to speak Russian. Even now as I talk to you, I keep saying to myself how well I am speaking it. Perhaps that is partly why I am so talkative this morning. I assure you, ever since yesterday evening, I have had the strongest desire to go on and on talking Russian. Hmm, yes, did you live in Petersburg in former years? This good flunky, in spite of his conscientious scruples, really could not resist continuing such a very genteel and agreeable conversation. In Petersburg, oh no, hardly at all! And now they say so much has changed in the place that even those who did know it well are obliged to relearn what they knew. They talk a good deal about the new law courts, and change is there, don't they? Ah, yes, that's true enough. Well now, how is the law over there? Do they administer it more justly than here? Oh, I don't know about that. I've heard much that is good about our legal administration, too. There is no capital punishment here for one thing. Is there over there? Yes, I saw an execution in France at Lyon. Schneider took me over with him to see it. What did they hang the fellow? No, they cut off people's heads in France. What did the fellow do? Yell? Oh no, it's the work of an instant. They put a man inside a frame, and a sort of broad knife falls by machinery. They call the thing a guillotine. It falls with fearful force and weight. The head springs off so quickly that you can't wink your eye in between. But all the preparations are so dreadful. When they announce the sentence, you know, and prepare the criminal and tie his hands, you cart him off to the scaffold. That's the fearful part of the business. The people all crowd round, even women, though they don't at all approve of women looking on. No, it's not a thing for women. Of course not, of course not. The criminal was a fine, intelligent, fearless man. Le Cor was his name, and I may tell you, they leave it or not as you like, that is, when that man stepped upon the scaffold, he cried. He did, indeed. He was as white as a bit of paper. Isn't it a dreadful idea that he should have cried? Cried! Who ever heard of a grown man crying from fear? Not a child, but a man who never had cried before. A grown man of forty-five years. Imagine what must have been going on in that man's mind at such a moment. What dreadful convulsions his whole spirit must have endured! It is an outrage on the soul, that's what it is. Because it is said, thou shalt not kill, is he to be killed, because he murdered someone else. No, it is not right, it's an impossible theory. I assure you, I saw the sight a month ago, and it's dancing before my eyes to this moment. I dream of it, often. The prince had grown animated as he spoke, and a tinge of colour suffused his pale face, though his way of talking was as quiet as ever. The servant followed his words with sympathetic interest. Clearly he was not at all anxious to bring the conversation to an end. Who knows? Perhaps he too was a man of imagination, and with some capacity for thought. Well, at all events, it is a good thing that there's no pain, when the poor fellow's head flies off, he remarked. "'Do you know, though?' cried the prince, warmly. You may dutch remark now, and every one says the same thing, and the machine is designed with the purpose of avoiding pain, this guillotine, I mean. But a thought came into my head, then. What if it be a bad plan, after all? You may laugh at my idea, perhaps, but I could not help it's occurring to me all the same. Now with a rack and tortures and so on, you suffer terrible pain, of course, but then your torture is bodily pain only, although no doubt you have plenty of that, until you die. But here I should imagine the most terrible part of the whole punishment is not the bodily pain at all, but the certain knowledge that in an hour, then in ten minutes, then in half a minute, then now, this very instant, your soul must quit your body, and that you will no longer be a man, and that this is certain, certain. That's the point, the certainty of it. Just that instant, when you place your head on the block, and hear the iron grate over your head, then, that quarter of a second is the most awful of all. This is not my own fantastical opinion, many people have thought the same, but I feel it so deeply, that I'll tell you what I think. I believe that to execute a man for murder is to punish him immeasurably more dreadfully than is equivalent to his crime. A murder by sentence is far more dreadful than a murder committed by a criminal. The man who is attacked by Robert at night, in a dark wood or anywhere, undoubtedly hopes and hopes that he may yet escape until the very moment of his death. There are plenty of instances of a man running away or imploring for mercy, at all events hoping on, in some degree, even after his throat was cut, but in the case of an execution, that last hope, having which it is so immeasurably less dreadful to die, is taken away from the wretch, and certainty substituted in its place. There is his sentence, and with it that terrible certainty, that he cannot possibly escape death, which I consider must be the most dreadful anguish in the world. You may place a soldier before a cannon's mouth in battle, and fire upon him, and he will still hope, but read to that same soldier his death sentence, and he will either go mad or burst into tears. Who dares to say that any man can suffer this without going mad? No, no, it is an abuse, a shame, it is unnecessary. Why should such a thing exist? Doubtless there may be men who have been sentenced, who have suffered this mental anguish for a while, and then have been reprieved. Perhaps such men may have been able to relate their feelings afterwards. Our Lord Christ spoke of this anguish and dread. No, no, no, no man should be treated so, no man, no man. The servant, though, of course, he could not have expressed all this as the prince did, still clearly entered into it, and was greatly conciliated, as was evident from the increased amiability of his expression. "'If you are really very anxious for a smoke,' he remarked, "'I think it might possibly be managed. If you are very quick about it. You see they might come out and inquire for you, and you wouldn't be on the spot. You see that door there. Go in there, and you'll find a little room on the right. You can smoke there, only open the window, because I ought not to allow it, really, and—' But there was no time after all. A young fellow entered the ante-room at this moment, with a bundle of papers in his hand. The footman hastened to help him take off his overcoat. The new arrival glanced at the prince out of the corners of his eyes. This gentleman declares, Gavrila Ardalyonovich began the man confidentially and almost familiarly, that he is prince Mwishkin and a relative of Madame Japanchine's. He has just arrived from abroad, with nothing but a bundle by way of luggage. The prince did not hear the rest, because at this point the servant continued his communication in a whisper. Gavrila Ardalyonovich listened attentively, and gazed at the prince with great curiosity. At last he motioned the man aside, and stepped hurriedly towards the prince. "'Are you Prince Mwishkin?' he asked, with the greatest courtesy and amiability. He was a remarkably handsome young fellow of some twenty-eight summers, fair and of middle height. He wore a small beard, and his face was most intelligent. Yet his smile, in spite of its sweetness, was a little thin, if I may so call it, and showed his teeth too evenly. His gaze, though decidedly good-humoured and ingenuous, was a trifle too inquisitive and intent to be altogether agreeable. Yet when he is alone he looks quite different, and hardly smiles at all, thought the prince. He explained about himself in a few words, very much the same as he had told the footman and Rogoljin beforehand. Gavrila Ardalyonovich, meanwhile, seemed to be trying to recall something. "'Was it not you, then, who sent a letter a year or less ago, from Switzerland, I think it was, to Elizaveta Prokofievna, Mrs. Japanchin?' It was. "'Oh, then, of course they will remember who you are. You wish to see the general, I'll tell him at once. He will be free in a minute. But you, you had better wait in the ante-chamber, hadn't you? Why is he here?' he added severely to the man. "'I tell you, sir, he wished it himself.' At this moment the study door opened, and a military man, with a portfolio under his arm, came out talking loudly, and after bidding good-bye to some one inside, took his departure. "'You there, Gania?' cried a voice from the study. "'Come in here, will you?' Gavrila Ardalyonovich nodded to the prince, and entered the room hastily. A couple of minutes later the door opened again, and the affable voice of Gania cried, "'Come in, please, prince!' End of Part 1, Chapter 2. Part 1, Chapter 3. Gavrila Ardalyvan Fyodorovich Yepanchin was standing in the middle of the room, and gazed with great curiosity at the prince as he entered. He even advanced a couple of steps to meet him. The prince came forward and introduced himself. "'Quite so,' replied the general, "'and what can I do for you?' "'Oh, I have no special business. My principal object was to make your acquaintance. I should not like to disturb you. I do not know your times and arrangements here, you see, but I have only just arrived. I came straight from the station. I come direct from Switzerland.' The general very nearly smiled, but thought better of it, and kept his smile back. Then he reflected, blinked his eyes, stared at his guest once more from head to foot. Then abruptly motioned him to a chair, sat down himself, and waited with some impatience for the prince to speak. Ganyas stood at his table in the far corner of the room, turning over papers. "'I have not much time for making acquaintances as a rule,' said the general. "'But as, of course, you have your object in coming, I—I felt sure you would think I had some object in view when I resolved to pay you this visit.' The prince interrupted. "'But I give you my word, beyond the pleasure of making your acquaintance. I had no personal object, whatever.' "'The pleasure is, of course, mutual, but life is not all pleasure as you are aware. There is such a thing as business, and I really do not see what possible reason there can be, or what we have in common to—oh, there is no reason, of course, and I suppose there is nothing in common between us, or very little. For if I am Prince Mwishkin, and your wife happens to be a member of my house, that can hardly be called a reason. I quite understand that. And yet that was my whole motive for coming. You see, I have not been in Russia for four years, and knew very little about anything when I left. I had been very ill for a long time, and I feel now the need of a few good friends. In fact I have a certain question upon which I much need advice, and do not know whom to go to for it. I thought of your family when I was passing through Berlin. They are almost relations, I said to myself. So I'll begin with them. Perhaps we may get on with each other. I with them, and they with me, if they are kind people. And I have heard that you are very kind people. Oh! Thank you! Thank you, I'm sure," replied the general, considerably taken aback. May I ask where you have taken up your quarters? Nowhere as yet. What! Straight from the station to my house! And how about your luggage? I only had a small bundle containing linen with me, nothing more. I can carry it in my hand easily. There will be plenty of time to take a room in some hotel by the evening. Oh! Then you do intend to take a room? Of course! To judge from your words you came straight to my house with the intention of staying there. That can only have been on your invitation. I confess, however, that I should not have stayed here, even if you had invited me. Not for any particular reason, but because it is, well, contrary to my practice and nature somehow. Oh! Indeed! Then it is perhaps as well that I neither did invite you, nor do invite you now. Excuse me, Prince, but we had better make this matter clear once for all. We have just agreed that with regard to our relationship there is not much to be said, though, of course, it would have been very delightful to us to feel that such relationship did actually exist. Therefore, perhaps—therefore perhaps I had better get up and go away," said the Prince, laughing merrily as he rose from his place, just as merrily as though the circumstances were by no means strained or difficult. And I give you my word, General, that though I know nothing whatever of manners and customs of society, and how people live and all that, yet I felt quite sure that this visit of mine would end exactly as it has ended now. Oh! Well, I suppose it's all right, especially as my letter was not answered. The Prince's expression was so good-natured at this moment, and so entirely free even from a suspicion of unpleasant feeling was the smile with which he looked at the General as he spoke, that the letter suddenly paused, and appeared to gaze at his guest from quite a new point of view, all in an instant. Do know, Prince," he said in quite a different tone, I do not know you at all, yet, and after all, Elisaveta Prokofievna would very likely be pleased to have a peep at a man of her own name—wait a little, if you don't mind, and if you have time to spare. Oh! I assure you I have lots of time, my time is entirely my own, and the Prince immediately replaced his soft round hat on the table. I confess I thought Elisaveta Prokofievna would very likely remember that I had written her a letter. Just now your servant, outside there, was dreadfully suspicious that I had come to beg of you. I noticed that. Obviously he has very strict instructions on that score, but I assure you I did not come to beg. I came to make some friends. But I am rather bothered at having disturbed you—that's all I care about. Look here, Prince," said the General, with a cordial smile. If you really are the sort of man you appear to be, it may be a source of great pleasure to us to make your better acquaintance. But you see, I am a very busy man, and have to be perpetually sitting here and signing papers, or off to see his Excellency, or to my department, or somewhere, so that though I should be glad to see more of people, nice people, you see, I, however, I am sure you are so well brought up that you will see it once, and—but how old are you, Prince? Twenty-six. No, I thought you very much younger. Yes, they say I have a young face. As to disturbing you, I shall soon learn to avoid doing that, for I hate disturbing people. Besides you and I are so differently constituted, I should think, that there must be very little in common between us. Not that I will ever believe that there is nothing in common between any two people, as some declare is the case. I am sure people make a great mistake in sorting each other into groups, by appearances. But I am boring you, I see. You just two words, have you any means at all, or perhaps you may be intending to undertake some sort of employment. Excuse my questioning you, but—oh, my dear sir, I esteem and understand your kindness in putting the question. No, at present I have no means whatever, and no employment either, but I hope to find some. I was living on other people abroad. Schneider, the professor who treated me and talked me to in Switzerland, gave me just enough money for my journey, so that now I have but a few co-pecs left. There certainly is one question upon which I am anxious to have advice, but tell me, how do you intend to live now, and what are your plans?" interrupted the general. I wish to work, somehow or other. Oh yes, but then you see you are a philosopher. Have you any talents or ability in any direction? That is any that would bring in money and bread. Excuse me again. Oh, don't apologize. No, I don't think I have either talents or special abilities of any kind, on the contrary. I have always been an invalid and unable to learn much. As for bread, I should think the general interrupted once more with questions, while the prince again replied with the narrative we have heard before. It appeared that the general had known Pavlychev, but why the latter had taken an interest in the prince that young gentleman could not explain, probably by virtue of the old friendship with his father, he thought. The prince had been left an orphan when quite a little child, and Pavlychev had entrusted him to an old lady, a relative of his own, living in the country, the child needing the fresh air and exercise of country life. He was educated first by a governess, and afterwards by a tutor, but could not remember much about this time of his life. His fits were so frequent, then, that they made almost an idiot of him. The prince used the expression idiot himself. Pavlychev had met Professor Schneider in Berlin, and the latter had persuaded him to send the boy to Switzerland, to Schneider's establishment there for the cure of his epilepsy. And five years before this time, the prince was sent off. But Pavlychev had died two or three years since, and Schneider had himself supported the young fellow from that day to this at his own expense. Although he had not quite cured him, he had greatly improved his condition. And now, at last, at the prince's own desire, and because of a certain matter which came to the ears of the latter, Schneider had dispatched the young man to Russia. The general was much astonished. Then you have no one, absolutely no one, in Russia, he asked, no one at present, but I hope to make friends. And then I have a letter from at all events, put in the general, not listening to the news about the letter, at all events you must have learnt something, and your malady would not prevent your undertaking some easy work in one of the departments, for instance. Oh, dear, no, oh, no! As for a situation, I should much like to find one, for I am anxious to discover what I really am fit for. I have learned a good deal in the last four years, and besides, I read a great many Russian books. Russian books, indeed, then of course you can read and write quite correctly. Oh, dear, yes, capital, and your handwriting. Ah, there I am really talented. I may say I am a real calligraphist. Let me write you something, just to show you," said the prince, with some excitement. With pleasure! In fact, it is very necessary. I like your readiness, prince. In fact, I must say, I like you very well altogether," said the general. What delightful writing materials you have here, such a lot of pencils and things! And what beautiful paper! It's a charming room altogether. I know that picture. It's a Swiss view. I'm sure the artist painted it from nature, and that I have seen the very place. Quite likely, though I bought it here, Gania, give the prince some paper. Here are pens and paper. Now then, take this table. What's this? The general continued to Gania, who had that moment taken a large photograph out of his portfolio, and shown it to his senior. Hello! Nastasya Filipovna! Did she send it to herself? He inquired with much curiosity and great animation. She gave it to me just now when I called in to congratulate her. I asked her for it long ago. I don't know whether she meant it for a hint that I had come empty-handed, without a present for her birthday or what. I did Gania with an unpleasant smile. Oh, nonsense, nonsense, said the general, with decision. What extraordinary ideas you have, Gania, as if she would hint. That's not her way at all. Besides, what could you give her without having thousands at your disposal? You might have given her your portrait, however. Has she ever asked you for it? No, not yet. Very likely she never will. I suppose you haven't forgotten about tonight, have you, Ivan Fyodorovich? You were one of those specially invited, you know. Oh, no, I remember all right, and I shall go, of course. I should think so. She's twenty-five years old today. And you know, Gania, you must be ready for great things. She has promised both myself and Afanazi Ivanovich that she will give a decided answer tonight, yes or no. So be prepared. Gania suddenly became so ill at ease that his face grew paler than ever. Are you sure she said that? he asked, and his voice seemed to quiver as he spoke. Yes, she promised. We both worried her so that she gave in, but she wished us to tell you nothing about it until the day. The general watched Gania's confusion intently, and clearly did not like it. Remember, Ivan Fyodorovich said Gania in great agitation, that I was to be free, too, until her decision, and that even then I was to have my, yes or no, free. Why, don't you, aren't you? began the general in alarm. Oh, don't misunderstand! But my dear fellow, what are you doing? What do you mean? Oh, I'm not rejecting her. I may have expressed myself badly, but I didn't mean that. Reject her! I should think not," said the general with annoyance, and apparently not in the least anxious to conceal it. Why, my dear fellow, it's not a question of your rejecting her. It is whether you are prepared to receive her consent joyfully and with proper satisfaction. How are things going on at home? At home, how I can do as I like there, of course. Only my father will make a fool of himself as usual. He is rapidly becoming a general nuisance. I don't ever talk to him now, but I hold him in check, safe enough. I swear if it had not been for my mother I would have shown him the way out long ago. My mother is always crying, of course, and my sister sulks. I had to tell them at last that I intended to be master of my own destiny and that I expect to be obeyed at home. At least I gave my sister to understand as much, and my mother was present. Well, I must say I cannot understand it," said the general shrugging his shoulders and dropping his hands. You remember your mother, Nina Alexandrovna, that day she came and sat here and groaned. And when I asked her what was the matter, she said, Oh, it's such a dishonour to us! Dishonour! Stuff and nonsense! I should like to know who can reproach Nastasia Philipovna, or who can say a word of any kind against her. Did she mean because Nastasia had been living with Totsky? What nonsense it is! You would not let her come near your daughters, says Nina Alexandrovna. What next, I wonder? I don't see how she can fail to—to understand. Her own position prompted Gania. She does understand. Don't be annoyed with her. I have warned her not to meddle in other people's affairs. However, although this comparative peace at home at present, the storm will break if anything is finally settled to-night. The prince heard the whole of the foregoing conversation as he sat at the table, writing. He finished at last, and brought the result of his labour to the general's desk. So this is Nastasia Philipovna, he said, looking attentively and curiously at the portrait. How wonderfully beautiful! He immediately added with warmth. The picture was certainly that of an unusually lovely woman. She was photographed in a black silk dress of simple design. Her hair was evidently dark and plainly arranged, her eyes were deep and thoughtful, the expression of her face passionate, but proud. She was rather thin, perhaps, and a little pale. Both Gania and the general gazed at the prince in amazement. How do you know it's Nastasia Philipovna? asked the general. You surely don't know her already, do you? Yes, I do. I have only been one day in Russia, but I have heard of the great beauty. And the prince proceeded to narrate his meeting with Rogojin in the train and the whole of the latter's story. There's news," said the general in some excitement after listening to the story with engrossed attention. Oh! Of course it's nothing but humbug!" cried Gania, a little disturbed, however. It's all humbug! The young merchant was pleased to indulge in a little innocent recreation. I have heard something of Rogojin. Yes, so have I," replied the general. Nastasia Philipovna told us all about the earrings that very day. But now it's quite a different matter. You see, the fellow really has a million of rubles, and he is passionately in love. The whole story smells of passion, and we all know what this class of gentry is capable of when infatuated. I am much afraid of some disagreeable scandal. I am indeed. You are afraid of the million, I suppose," said Gania, grinning and showing his teeth. And you are not, I presume. How did he strike you, prince?" asked Gania suddenly. Did he seem to be a serious sort of a man, or just a common rowdy fellow? What was your opinion about the matter? While Gania put this question, a new idea suddenly flashed into his brain and blazed out impatiently in his eyes. The general, who was really agitated and disturbed, looked at the prince, too, but did not seem to expect much from his reply. I really don't quite know how to tell you," replied the prince, but it certainly did seem to me that the man was full of passion, and not perhaps quite healthy passion. He seemed to be still far from well. Very likely he will be in bed again in a day or two, especially if he lives fast. No, do you think so? said the general, catching at the idea. Yes, I do think so. Yes, but the sort of scandal I referred to may happen at any moment. It may be this very evening," remarked Gania to the general with a smile. Of course, quite so. In that case it all depends upon what is going on in her brain at this moment. You know the kind of person she is at times. How? What kind of person is she?" cried the general, arrived at the limits of his patience. Look here, Gania, don't you go annoying her to-night. What you are to do is to be as agreeable towards her as ever you can. Well, what are you smiling at? You must understand, Gania, that I have no interest, whatever, in speaking like this. Whichever way the question is settled it will be to my advantage. Nothing will move Totski from his resolution, so I run no risk. If there is anything I desire you must know that it is your benefit only. Can't you trust me? You are a sensible fellow, and I have been counting on you, for in this matter, that, that. Because that's the chief thing," said Gania, helping the general out of his difficult his again, and curling his lips in an envenomed smile which he did not attempt to conceal. He gazed with his fevered eyes straight into those of the general, as though he were anxious that the latter might read his thoughts. The general grew purple with anger. Yes, of course it is the chief thing," he cried, looking sharply at Gania. What a very curious man you are, Gania. You actually seem to be glad to hear of this millionaire fellow's arrival, just as though you wished for an excuse to get out of the whole thing. This is an affair in which you ought to act honestly with both sides, and give due warning to avoid compromising others. But even now there is still time. Do you understand me? I wish to know whether you desire this arrangement, or whether you do not. If not, say so, and welcome. No one is trying to force you into the snare, Gavrila Ardalyonovich, if you see a snare in the matter at least. I do desire it," murmured Gania, softly but firmly, lowering his eyes. And he relapsed into gloomy silence. The general was satisfied. He had excited himself, and was evidently now regretting that he had gone so far. He turned to the prince, and suddenly the disagreeable thought of the latter's presence struck him, and the certainty that he must have heard every word of the conversation. But he felt at ease in another moment. He'd only needed one glance at the prince to see that in that quarter there was nothing to fear. Oh! cried the general, catching sight of the prince's specimen of calligraphy, which the latter had now handed him for inspection. Why, this is simply beautiful! Look at that, Gania! There's real talent there! On a sheet of thick writing paper, the prince had written in medieval characters the legend, the gentle Abbot Pafnute signed this. There, explained the prince with great delight and animation, there that's the Abbot's real signature from a manuscript of the fourteenth century. All these old Abbot's and bishops used to write most beautifully, with such taste and so much care and diligence. Have you no copy of Pagod in general? If you had one, I could show you another type. Stop a bit! Here you have the large round writing common in France during the eighteenth century. Some of the letters are shaped quite differently from those now in use. It was the writing current, then, and employed by public writers generally. I copied this from one of them, and you can see how good it is. Look at the well-rounded A and D. I have tried to translate the French character into the Russian letters. A difficult thing to do, but I think I have succeeded fairly. Here is a fine sentence written in a good original hand. Zeal triumphs over all. That is the script of the Russian War Office. That is how official documents addressed to important personages should be written. The letters are round, the type black, and the style somewhat remarkable. A stylist would not allow these ornaments or attempts at flourishes. Just look at these unfinished tales. But it has distinction and really depicts the soul of the writer. He would like to give play to his imagination and follow the inspiration of his genius, but a soldier is only at ease in the guard room, and the pen stops halfway, a slave to discipline. How delightful! The first time I met an example of this handwriting, I was positively astonished. And where do you think I chanced to find it? In Switzerland of all places. Now that is an ordinary English hand. It can hardly be improved. It is so refined and exquisite, almost perfection. This is an example of another kind, a mixture of styles. The copy was given me by a French commercial traveller. It is founded on the English, but the downstrokes are a little blacker and more marked. Notice that the oval has some slight modification. It is more rounded. This writing allows for flourishes. Now a flourish is a dangerous thing. Its use requires such taste, but if successful, what a distinction it gives to the whole. It results in an incomparable type, one to fall in love with. Dear me, how you have gone into all the refinements and details of the question. Why, my dear fellow, you are not a calligraphist. You are an artist. Hey, Ganya! Wonderful, said Ganya. And he knows it too, he added, with a sarcastic smile. You may smile, but there's a career in this, said the general. You don't know what a great personage I shall show this to, Prince. Why, you can command a situation at thirty-five rubles per month to start with. However, it's half-past twelve, he concluded, looking at his watch. So to business, Prince, for I must be setting to work, and shall not see you again to-day. Sit down a minute. I have told you that I cannot receive you myself very often, but I should like it. But I should like to be of some assistance to you, some small assistance, of a kind that would give you satisfaction. I shall find you a place in one of the State Departments, an easy place, but you will require to be accurate. Now, as to your plans, in the house, or rather in the family of Ganya here, my young friend whom I hope you will know better, his mother and sister have prepared two or three rooms for lodgers, and let them to highly recommended young fellows with board and attendance. I am sure Nina Alexandrovna will take you in on my recommendation. There you will be comfortable and well taken care of, for I do not think, Prince, that you are the sort of man to be left to the mercy of fate in a town like Petersburg. Nina Alexandrovna, Ganya's mother, and Varvara Alexandrovna, are ladies for whom I have the highest possible esteem and respect. Nina Alexandrovna is the wife of General Ardalion Alexandrovich, my old brother-in-arms, with whom I regret to say, on account of certain circumstances, I am no longer acquainted. I give you all this information, Prince, in order to make it clear to you that I am personally recommending you to this family, and that in so doing I am more or less taking upon myself to answer for you. The terms are most reasonable, and I trust that your salary will very shortly prove amply sufficient for your expenditure. Of course pocket-money is a necessity, if only a little. Do not be angry, Prince, if I strongly recommend you to avoid carrying money in your pocket. But as your purse is quite empty at the present moment, you must allow me to press these twenty-five rubles upon your acceptance as something to begin with. Of course we will settle this little matter another time, and if you are the upright, honest man you look, I anticipate very little trouble between us on that score. Taking so much interest in you as you may perceive I do, I am not without my object, and you shall know it in good time. You see I am perfectly candid with you. I hope, Gania, you have nothing to say against the Prince's taking up his abode in your house. Oh, on the contrary! My mother will be very glad," said Gania, courteously and kindly. I think only one of your roms is engaged as yet, is it not? That fellow, Ferd, Ferd, Ferdishenko—yes, I don't like that Ferdishenko. I can't understand why Nastasia Filippovna encourages him so. Is he really her cousin, as he said? Oh, dear, no, it's all a joke—you know more cousin than I am. Well, what do you think of the arrangement, Prince? Thank you, General. You have behaved very kindly to me. All the more so since I did not ask you to help me. I don't say that out of pride. I certainly did not know where to lay my head tonight. Rogorgin asked me to come to his house, of course, but Rogorgin, no, no, my good fellow, I should strongly recommend you, paternally, or if you prefer it as a friend, to forget all about Rogorgin, and in fact to stick to the family in which you are about to enter. Thank you, began the Prince, and since you are so very kind, there is just one matter which I—you really must excuse me, interrupted the General, but I positively haven't another moment now. I shall just tell Eliza Vieta Krokofievna about you, and if she wishes to receive you at once, as I shall advise her, I strongly recommend you to ingratiate yourself with her at the first opportunity, for my wife may be of the greatest service to you in many ways. If she cannot receive you now, you must be content to wait till another time. Meanwhile you, Gania, just look over these accounts, will you? We mustn't forget to finish off that matter. The General left the room, and the Prince never succeeded in broaching the business which he had on hand, though he had endeavoured to do so four times. Gania lit a cigarette and offered one to the Prince. The latter accepted the offer, but did not talk, being unwilling to disturb Gania's work. He commenced to examine the study and its contents, but Gania hardly so much as glanced at the papers lying before him. He was absent and thoughtful, and his smile and general appearance struck the Prince still more disagreeably now that the two were left alone together. Finally Gania approached our hero, who was at the moment standing over Nastasia Philipovna's portrait, gazing at it. Do you admire that sort of woman, Prince? He asked, looking intently at him. He seemed to have some special object in the question. It's a wonderful face, said the Prince, and I feel sure that her destiny is not by any means an ordinary, uneventful one. Her face is smiling enough, but she must have suffered terribly. Hasn't she? Her eyes show it, those two bones there, the little points under her eyes, just where her cheek begins. It's a proud face, too, terribly proud. And I can't say whether she is good and kind or not. Oh, if she'd be but good, that would make all well. And would you marry a woman like that now? continued Gania, never taking his excited eyes off the Prince's face. I cannot marry at all, said the latter. I am an invalid. Would Rogorgin marry her, do you think? Why not? Certainly he would, I should think. He would marry her to-morrow, marry her to-morrow, and murder her in a week. Surely had the Prince uttered the last word when Gania gave such a fearful shudder that the Prince almost cried out. What's the matter? said he, seizing Gania's hand. Your Highness, his Excellency begs your presence in her Excellency's apartments, announced the footman appearing at the door. The Prince immediately followed the man out of the room. End of Part 1, Chapter 3, Recording by Martin Geeson in Hazelmere Surrey.