 Part 1 Chapter 11 of The Idiot. This Librivox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Martin Giesen. The Idiot by Fyodor Dostoevsky. Translated by Eva M. Martin. Part 1 Chapter 11. The Prince now left the room and shut himself up in his own chamber. Collier followed him almost at once, anxious to do what he could to console him. The poor boy seemed to be already so attached to him that he could hardly leave him. "'You are quite right to go away,' he said. "'The row will rage there worse than ever now. And it's like this every day with us, and all through that Nastasya Philipovna.' "'You have so many sources of trouble here, Collier,' said the Prince. "'Yes, indeed, and it is all our own fault. But I have a great friend who is much worse off even than we are. Would you like to know him?' "'Yes, very much. Is he one of your school fellows?' "'Well, not exactly. I will tell you all about him some day.' "'What do you think of Nastasya Philipovna? She is beautiful, isn't she?' I had never seen her before, though I had a great wish to do so. She fascinated me. I could forgive Gania if he were to marry her for love, but for money. Oh, dear, that is horrible! Yes, your brother does not attract me much. I am not surprised at that, after what you—but I do hate that way of looking at things, because some fool or a rogue pretending to be a fool strikes a man. That man is to be dishonoured for his whole life, unless he wipes out the disgrace with blood, or makes his assailant beg forgiveness on his knees. I think that's so very absurd and tyrannical. Lermontov's Balmasque is based on that idea—a stupid and unnatural one, in my opinion—but he was hardly more than a child when he wrote it. I like your sister very much. Did you see how she spat in Gania's face? Varya is afraid of no one. But you did not follow her example, and yet I am sure it was not through cowardice. Here she comes. Speak of a wolf, and you see his tail. I felt sure that she would come. She is very generous, though, of course, she has her faults. Varya pounced upon her brother. This is not the place for you, said she. Go to father. Is he plaguing you, prince? Not in the least. On the contrary, he interests me. Scolding as usual, Varya, it's the worst thing about her. After all, I believe father may have started off with Rogorgin. No doubt he is sorry now. Perhaps I had better go and see what he is doing, added Collier, running off. Thank God I have got mother away, and put her to bed without another scene. Gania is worried and ashamed—not without reason. What a spectacle! I have come to thank you once more, prince, and to ask you if you knew Nastasia Philipovna before. No, I have never known her. Then what did you mean when you said straight out to her that she was not really like that? You guessed right, I fancy. It is quite possible she was not herself at the moment, though I cannot fathom her meaning. Evidently she meant to hurt and insult us. I have heard curious tales about her before now, but if she came to invite us to her house, why did she behave so to my mother? Petitsin knows her very well. He says he could not understand her today. With Rogorgin, too, no one with a spark of self-respect could have talked like that. In the house of her, mother is extremely vexed on your account, too. That is nothing, said the prince waving his hand. But how meek she was when you spoke to her. Meek, what do you mean? You told her it was a shame for her to behave so, and her manner changed at once. She was like another person. You have some influence over her, Prince," added Varia, smiling a little. The door opened at this point, and in came Gania, most unexpectedly. He was not in the least disconcerted to see Varia there, but he stood a moment at the door, and then approached the prince quietly. Prince, he said with feeling, I was a blaggard. Forgive me! His face gave evidence of suffering. The prince was considerably amazed, and did not reply at once. Oh, come! Forgive me! Forgive me! Gania insisted rather impatiently. If you like, I'll kiss your hand. There! The prince was touched. He took Gania's hands, and embraced him heartily, while each kissed the other. I never, never thought you were like that," said Mushkin, drawing a deep breath. I thought you weren't capable of—of what? Apologising, eh? And where on earth did I get the idea that you were an idiot? You always observe what other people pass by unnoticed. One could talk sense to you, but here is another to whom you should apologise," said the prince, pointing to Varia. No, no! They are all enemies. I've tried them often enough, believe me, and Gania turned his back on Varia with these words. But if I beg you to make it up," said Varia, and you'll go to Nastasia Philipovna's this evening. If you insist, but judge for yourself, can I go? Or try to go? But she is not that sort of woman, I tell you," said Gania angrily. She was only acting. I know that. I know that. But what a part to play! And think what she must take you for, Gania. I know she kissed mother's hand and all that, but she laughed at you all the same. All that is not good enough for seventy-five thousand rubles, my dear boy. You are capable of honourable feelings still, and that's why I am talking to you so. Oh, do take care of what you are doing. Don't you know yourself that it will end badly, Gania? So saying, and in a state of violent agitation, Varia left the room. There! They are all like that," said Gania, laughing, just as if I do not know all about it much better than they do. He sat down with these words, evidently intending to prolong his visit. If you know it so well, said the Prince a little timidly, why do you choose all this worry for the sake of the seventy-five thousand, which you confess does not cover it? I didn't mean that, said Gania, but while we are upon the subject, let me hear your opinion. Is all this worry worth seventy-five thousand or not? Certainly not. Of course, and it would be a disgrace to marry so. A great disgrace. Oh, well, then you may know that I shall certainly do it now. I shall certainly marry her. I was not quite sure of myself before, but now I am. Don't say a word. I know what you want to tell me. No, I was only going to say that what surprises me most of all is your extraordinary confidence. How so? What's in? That Nastasia Philipovna will accept you, and that the question is as good as settled, and secondly, that even if she did, you would be able to pocket the money. Of course, I know very little about it, but that's my view. When a man marries for money, it often happens that the wife keeps the money in her own hands. Of course, you don't know all, but I assure you, you needn't be afraid. It won't be like that in our case. There are circumstances, said Gania, rather excitedly, and as to her answer to me, there's no doubt about that. Why should you suppose she will refuse me? Oh, I only judge by what I see. Barvara Ardalyanovna said just now, Oh, she! They don't know anything about it. Nastasia was only charthing Rogorgin. I was alarmed at first, but I have thought better of it now. She was simply laughing at him. She looks on me as a fool, because I show that I want her money, and doesn't realize that there are other men who would deceive her in far worse fashion. I am not going to pretend anything, and you'll see she'll marry me all right, if she likes to live quietly, so she shall. But if she gives me any of her nonsense, I shall leave her at once. But I shall keep the money. I'm not going to look a fool. That's the first thing, not to look a fool. But Nastasia Philipovna seems to me such a sensible woman, and as such, why should she run blindly into this business? That's what puzzled me, so said the Prince. You don't know all, you see. I tell you there are things, and besides, I'm sure she has persuaded that I love her to distraction. And I give you my word, I have a strong suspicion that she loves me too, in her own way, of course. She thinks she will be able to make a sort of slave of me all my life, but I shall prepare a little surprise for her. I don't know whether I ought to be confidential with you, Prince, but I assure you you are the only decent fellow I have come across. I have not spoken so sincerely as I am doing at this moment for years. There are uncommonly few honest people about, Prince. There isn't one honester than Petitsyn. He's the best of the lot. Are you laughing? You don't know, perhaps, that Blaggards like honest people. And being one myself, I like you. Why am I a Blaggard? Tell me honestly now. They all call me a Blaggard because of her, and I have got into the way of thinking myself one. That is what is so bad about the business. I, for one, shall never think you a Blaggard again, said the Prince. I confess I had a poor opinion of you at first, but I have been so joyfully surprised about you just now. It's a good lesson for me. I shall never judge again without a thorough trial. I see now that you are not only not a Blaggard, but are not even quite spoiled. I see that you are quite an ordinary man, not original in the least degree, but rather weak. Garnier laughed sarcastically, but said nothing. The Prince, seeing that he did not quite like the last remark, blushed and was silent too. As my father asked you for money, asked Garnier suddenly, No, don't give it to him if he does. Fancy, he was a decent respectable man once. He was received in the best society. He was not always the liar he is now. Of course, wine is at the bottom of it all, but he is a good deal worse than an innocent liar now. Do you know that he keeps a mistress? I can't understand how mother is so long suffering. Did he tell you the story of the Siege of Kars? Or perhaps the one about his grey horse that talked? He loves to enlarge on these absurd histories, and Garnier burst into a fit of laughter. Suddenly he turned to the Prince and asked, Why are you looking at me like that? I am surprised to see you laugh in that way like a child. You came to make friends with me again just now, and you said, I will kiss your hand if you like. Just as a child would have said it, and then all at once you were talking of this mad project, of these seventy-five thousand rubles. It all seemed so absurd and impossible. Well, what conclusion have you reached? That you are rushing madly into the undertaking, and that you would do well to think it over again. It is more than possible that Varvara Ardalionovna is right. Ah, now you begin to moralize. I know that I am only a child, very well," replied Garnier impatiently. That is proved by my having this conversation with you. It is not for money only, Prince, that I am rushing into this affair. He continued, hardly master of his words so closely had his vanity been touched. If I reckoned on that I should certainly be deceived, for I am still too weak in mind and character. I am obeying a passion, an impulse perhaps, because I have but one aim, one that overmasters all else. You imagine that once I am in possession of these seventy-five thousand rubles I shall rush to buy a carriage. No, I shall go on wearing the old overcoat I have worn for three years, and I shall give up my club. I shall follow the example of men who have made their fortunes. When Petitsin was seventeen, he slept in the street. He sold pen knives, and began with a copek. Now he has sixty thousand rubles. But to get them what has he not done? Well, I shall be spared such a hard beginning, and shall start with a little capital. In fifteen years people will say, Look, that's Evolgin, the king of the Jews. You say that I have no originality. Now mark this, Prince. There is nothing so offensive to a man of our time and race than to be told that he is wanting an originality, that he is weak in character, as no particular talent, and is in short an ordinary person. You have not even done me the honor of looking upon me as a rogue. Do you know I could have knocked you down for that just now? You wounded me more cruelly than your pancine, who thinks me capable of selling him my wife. Observe, it was a purely gratuitous idea on his part, seeing there has never been any discussion of it between us. This has exasperated me, and I am determined to make a fortune. I will do it. Once I am rich I shall be a genius, an extremely original man. One of the vilest and most hateful things connected with money is that it can buy even talent, and will do so as long as the world lasts. You will say that this is childish or romantic. Well, that will be all the better for me, but the thing shall be done. I will carry it through. He laughs most who laughs last. Why does the pancine insult me? Simply because socially I am a nobody. However, enough for the present. Collier has put his nose into Teller's dinner is ready twice. I am dining out. I shall come and talk to you now and then. You shall be comfortable enough with us. They are sure to make you one of the family. I think you and I will either be great friends or enemies. Look here now, supposing I had kissed your hand just now, as I offered to do in all sincerity, should I have hated you for it afterwards? Certainly, but not always. You would not have been able to keep it up, and would have ended by forgiving me, said the Prince, after a pause for reflection, and with a pleasant smile. Oh, how careful one has to be with you, Prince! Haven't you put a drop of poison in that remark now, hey? By the way, I forgot to ask, was I right in believing that you were a good deal struck yourself with Nastasia Philipovna? Yes, are you in love with her? No. And yet you flush up as red as a rosebud. Come, it's all right. I'm not going to laugh at you. Do you know she is a very virtuous woman? Believe it or not, as you like. You think she and Totsky. Not a bit of it, not a bit of it. Not for ever so long. Au revoir. Gania left the room in great good humour. The Prince stayed behind, and meditated alone for a few minutes. At length Collier popped his head in once more. I don't want any dinner, thanks, Collier. I had too good a lunch at General Ypanchine's. Collier came into the room and gave the Prince a note. It was from the General, and was carefully sealed up. It was clear from Collier's face how painful it was to him to deliver the missive. The Prince read it, rose, and took his hat. It's only a couple of yards, said Collier, blushing. He's sitting there over his bottle, and how they can give him credit I cannot understand. Don't tell Mother I brought you the note, Prince. I have sworn not to do it a thousand times, but I'm always so sorry for him. Don't stand on ceremony. Give him some trifle and let that end it. Come along, Collier. I want to see your father. I have an idea," said the Prince. End of Part 1 Chapter 11 Recording by Martin Geeson Part 1 Chapter 12 of The Idiot This Librivox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Martin Geeson The Idiot by Fyodor Dostoevsky Translated by Eva M. Martin Part 1 Chapter 12 Collier took the Prince to a public house in the Litinea, not far off. In one of the side-rooms there sat at a table, looking like one of the regular guests of the establishment Ardalion Alexandrovich, with a bottle before him, and a newspaper on his knee. He was waiting for the Prince, and no sooner did the latter appear than he began a long harangue about something or other. But so far gone was he that the Prince could hardly understand a word. I have not got a ten rubal note, said the Prince, but here is a twenty-five. Change it and give me back the fifteen, or I shall be left without a farthing myself. Oh, of course, of course! And you quite understand that I— Yes, and I have another request to make, General. Have you ever been at Nastasia Philipovna's? I? I do mean me. Often, my friend, often. I only pretended I had not, in order to avoid a painful subject. You saw today, you were a witness, that I did all that a kind and indulgent father could do. Now a father of altogether another type shall step into the scene. You shall see. The old soldier shall lay bare this intrigue, or a shameless woman will force her way into a respectable and noble family. Yes, quite so. I wished to ask you whether you could show me the way to Nastasia Philipovna's to-night. I must go. I have business with her. I was not invited, but I was introduced. Anyhow, I am ready to trespass the laws of propriety, if only I can get in somehow or other. My dear young friend, you have hit on my very idea! It was not for this rubbish I asked you to come over here. He pocketed the money, however, at this point. It was to invite your alliance in the campaign against Nastasia Philipovna to-night. How well it sounds! General Ewolgin and Prince Mushkin! That'll fetch her, I think. Capital! We'll go at nine. There's time yet. Where does she live? Oh, a long way off, near the great theatre, just in the square there. It won't be a large party. The general sat on and on. He had ordered a fresh bottle when the prince arrived. This took him an hour to drink, and then he had another, and another, during the consumption of which he told pretty nearly the whole story of his life. The prince was in despair. He felt that though he had but applied to this miserable old drunkard, because he saw no other way of getting to Nastasia Philipovna's, yet he had been very wrong to put the slightest confidence in such a man. At last he rose and declared he would wait no longer. The general rose, too, drank the last drops that he could squeeze out of the bottle, and staggered into the street. Mushkin began to despair. He could not imagine how he had been so foolish as to trust this man. He only wanted one thing, and that was to get to Nastasia Philipovna's, even at the cost of a certain amount of impropriety. But now the scandal threatened to be more than he had bargained for. By this time Ardalion Alexandrovich was quite intoxicated, and he kept his companion listening while he discoursed eloquently and pathetically on subjects of all kinds, interspersed with torrents of recrimination against the members of his family. He insisted that all his troubles were caused by their bad conduct, and time alone would put an end to them. At last they reached the Litynia. The thaw increased steadily, a warm unhealthy wind blew through the streets, vehicles splashed through the mud, and the iron shoes of horses and mules rang on the paving-stones. Crowds of melancholy people plodded wearily along the footpaths, with here and there a drunken man among them. Do you see those brightly lighted windows? said the general. Many of my old comrades-in-arms live about here, and I, who served longer and suffered more than any of them, am walking on foot to the house of a woman of rather questionable reputation. A man, look you, who has thirteen bullets on his breast. You don't believe it? Well, I can assure you it was entirely on my account that Pirogov telegraphed to Paris, and left Sebastopol at the greatest risk during the siege. Nélaton, the Tuileries surgeon, demanded a safe conduct in the name of science into the besieged city in order to attend my wounds. The government knows all about it. That's the Evolguin with thirteen bullets in him. That's how they speak of me. Do you see that house, Prince? One of my old friends lives on the first floor, with his large family. In this and five other houses, three overlooking Nievsky, two in the Moriskaya, are all that remain of my personal friends. Nina Alexandrovna gave them up long ago. But I keep in touch with them still. I may say I find refreshment in this little coterie, in thus meeting my old acquaintances and subordinates, who worship me still, in spite of all. General Sokolovic, by the way I have not called on him lately, or seen Anna Fyodorovna. You know, my dear Prince, when a person does not receive company himself, he gives up going to other people's houses involuntarily. And yet. Well, you look as if you didn't believe me. Well, now, why should I not present the son of my old friend and companion to this delightful family? General Evolguin and Prince Moishkin. You will see a lovely girl. What am I saying, a lovely girl? No, indeed, two, three ornaments of this city and of society. Beauty, education, culture, the woman question, poetry, everything. Added to which is the fact that each one will have a dough of at least eighty thousand rubles. No bad thing, eh? In a word I absolutely must introduce you to them. It is a duty, an obligation. General Evolguin and Prince Moishkin. Tableau. At once, now, you must have forgotten, began the Prince. No, I have forgotten nothing. Come, this is the house, up this magnificent staircase. I am surprised not to see the porter. But it is a holiday, and the man has gone off. Drunken fool! Why have they not got rid of him? Sakalovitch owes all the happiness he has had in the service, and in his private life, to me and me alone. But here we are. The Prince followed quietly, making no further objection for fear of irritating the old man. At the same time, he fervently hoped that General Sakalovitch and his family would fade away like a mirage in the desert, so that the visitors could escape by merely returning downstairs. But to his horror, he saw that General Evolguin was quite familiar with the house, and really seemed to have friends there. At every step he named some topographical or biographical detail that left nothing to be desired on the score of accuracy. When they arrived at last on the first floor, and the General turned to ring the bell to the right, the Prince decided to run away. But a curious incident stopped him momentarily. You have made a mistake, General, said he. The name on the door is Kolakov, and you are going to see General Sakalovitch. Kolakov. Kolakov means nothing. This is Sakalovitch's flat, and I am ringing at his door. What do I care for Kolakov? Here comes someone to open. In fact, the door opened directly, and the footman informed the visitors that the family were all away. What a pity! What a pity! It's just my luck! Repeated ardently on Aleksandrovitch over and over again, in regretful tones. When your master and mistress return, my man, tell them that General Evolgin and Prince Muishkin desired to present themselves, and that they were extremely sorry, excessively grieved. Just then another person belonging to the household was seen at the back of the hall. It was a woman of some forty years, dressed in somber colours, probably a housekeeper or a governess. Hearing the names, she came forward with a look of suspicion on her face. Marche Aleksandrovna is not at home, said she, staring hard at the General. She has gone to her mother's, with Aleksandra Michailovna. Aleksandra Michailovna out, too. How disappointing! Would you believe it? I am always so unfortunate! May I most respectfully ask you to present my compliments to Aleksandra Michailovna, and remind her, tell her that with my whole heart I wish for her what she wished for herself on Thursday evening, while she was listening to Chopin's ballad. She will remember. I wish it with all sincerity. General Evolgin and the Prince Muishkin The woman's face changed. She lost her suspicious expression. I will not fail to deliver your message, she replied, and bowed them out. As they went downstairs, the general regretted repeatedly that he had failed to introduce the Prince to his friends. You know I am a bit of a poet, said he. Have you noticed it? The poetic soul, you know. Then he added suddenly, but after all, after all, I believe we made a mistake this time. I remember that the Sakharlovitches live in another house, and what is more, they are just now in Moscow. Yes, I was certainly at fault. However, it is of no consequence. Just tell me, said the Prince, in reply, may I count still on your assistance, or shall I go on alone to see Nastasia Philipovna? Count on my assistance? Go alone? How can you ask me that question, when it is a matter on which the fate of my family so largely depends? You don't know Evolgin, my friend. To trust Evolgin is to trust a rock. That's how the first squadron I commanded spoke of me. Depend upon Evolgin, said they all. He is as steady as a rock. But excuse me, I must just call at a house on our way, a house where I have found consolation and help in all my trials for years. You are going home? No, I wish to visit Madame Terentyev, the widow of Captain Terentyev, my old subordinate and friend. She helps me to keep up my courage, and to bear the trials of my domestic life, and as I have an extra burden on my mind today. It seems to me, interrupted the Prince, that I was foolish to trouble you just now. However, at present, you—good-bye. Indeed, you must not go away like that, young man. You must not," cried the General. My friend here is a widow, the mother of a family. Her words come straight from her heart, and find an echo in mine. A visit to her is merely an affair of a few minutes. I am quite at home in her house. I will have a wash and dress, and then we can drive to the Grand Theatre. Make up your mind to spend the evening with me. We are just there. That's the house. My Collier, you here? Well, is Marfa Barisovna at home, or have you only just come? Oh, no, I have been here a long while," replied Collier, who is at the front door when the General met him. I am keeping Ipolit company. He is worth and has been in bed all day. I came down to buy some cards. Marfa Barisovna, I expect you. But what a state you are in, Father," added the boy, noticing his father's unsteady gate. Well, let us go in. On meeting Collier, the Prince determined to accompany the General, though he made up his mind to stay as short a time as possible. He wanted Collier but firmly resolved to leave the General behind. He could not forgive himself for being so simple as to imagine that he Volgin would be of any use. The three climbed up the long staircase until they reached the fourth floor where Madame Terentyev lived. You intend to introduce the Prince? asked Collier as they went up. Yes, my boy, I wish to present him. General Evolgin and Prince Mwischkin. But what's the matter? What? How is Marfa Barisovna? You know, Father, you would have done much better not to come at all. She is ready to eat you up. You have not shown yourself since the day before yesterday, and she is expecting the money. Why did you promise her any? You are always the same. Well, now you will have to get out of it as best you can. They stopped before a somewhat low doorway on the fourth floor. Ardelyon Alexandrovich evidently much out of countenance pushed Mwischkin in front. I will wait here, he stammered. I should like to surprise her. Collier entered first, and as the door stood open the mistress of the house peeped out. The surprise of the general's imagination fell very flat, for she at once began to address him in terms of reproach. Marfa Barisovna was about forty years of age. She wore a dressing jacket, her feet were in slippers, her face painted, and her hair was in dozens of small plaques. No sooner did she catch sight of Ardelyon Alexandrovich than she screamed. There he is, that wicked mean wretch. I knew it was he. My heart misgave me. The old man tried to put a good face on the affair. Come, let us go in. It's all right. He whispered in the prince's ear. But it was more serious than he wished to think. As soon as the visitors had crossed the low dark hall, and entered the narrow reception room, furnished with half a dozen cane chairs and two small card-tables, Madame Terentyev, in the shrill tones habitual to her, continued her stream of invectives. Are you not ashamed? Are you not ashamed, you barbarian? You tyrant? You have robbed me of all I possessed? You have sucked my bones to the marrow? How long shall I be your victim, shameless, dishonourable man? Marfa Borisovna! Marfa Borisovna! Here is the Prince Mushkin. General Ivoilkin and Prince Mushkin stammered the disconcerted old man. Would you believe, said the mistress of the house, suddenly addressing the prince, would you believe that that man has not even spared my orphaned children? He has stolen everything I possessed, sold everything, pawned everything. He has left me nothing, nothing. What am I to do with your IOUs, you cunning, unscrupulous rogue? Answer, devourer! Answer, heart of stone! How shall I feed my orphans? With what shall I nourish them? And now he has come, he is drunk. He can scarcely stand. How, oh, how have I offended the Almighty, that he should bring this curse upon me? Answer, you worthless villain, answer! But this was too much for the general. Here are twenty-five roubles, Marfa Borisovna. It is all that I can give. And I owe even these to the Princess Generosity, my noble friend. I have been cruelly deceived. Such is life. Now, excuse me. I am very weak, he continued, standing in the centre of the room, and bowing to all sides. I am faint. Excuse me. Yanochka, a cushion, my dear. Yanochka, a little girl of eight, ran to fetch the cushion at once, and placed it on the rickety old sofa. The general meant to have said much more, but as soon as he had stretched himself out, he turned his face to the wall, and slept the sleep of the just. With a grave and ceremonious air, Marfa Borisovna motioned the Prince to a chair at one of the card-tables. She seated herself opposite, leaned her right cheek on her hand, and sat in silence, her eyes fixed on Wushkin, now and again sighing deeply. The three children, two little girls and a boy, Yanochka being the eldest, came and lent on the table, and also stared steadily at him. Presently Kolya appeared from the adjoining room. I am very glad indeed to have met you here, Kolya, said the Prince. Can you do something for me? I must see Nastasia Filipovna, and I asked Arda Lyon Alexandrovich just now to take me to her house, but he has gone to sleep, as you see. Will you show me the way? For I do not know the street. I have the address, though. It is close to the Grand Theatre. Nastasia Filipovna! She does not live there, and to tell you the truth, my father has never been to her house. It is strange that you should have depended on him. She lives near Vladimir Street at the five corners, and it is quite close by. Will you go directly? It is just half past nine. I will show you the way with pleasure. Kolya and the Prince went off together. Alas! the latter had no money to pay for a cab, so they were obliged to walk. I should have liked to have taken you to see Ipolit, said Kolya. He is the eldest son of the lady you met just now, and was in the next room. He is ill, and has been in bed all day. But he is rather strange and extremely sensitive, and I thought he might be upset considering the circumstances in which you came. Somehow it touches me less as it concerns my father, while it is his mother. That, of course, makes a great difference. What is a terrible disgrace to a woman does not disgrace a man, at least not in the same way. Perhaps public opinion is wrong in condemning one sex, and excusing the other. Ipolit is an extremely clever boy, but so prejudiced. He is really a slave to his opinions. Do you say he is consumptive? Yes. It really would be happier for him to die young. If I were in his place I should certainly long for death. He is unhappy about his brother and sister, the children you saw. If it were possible, if we only had a little money, we should leave our respective families and live together in an apartment of our own. It is our dream. But do you know, when I was talking over your affair with him, he was angry, and said that any one who did not call out a man who had given him a blow was a coward. He is very irritable today, and I left off arguing the matter with him. So Nastasia Philipovna has invited you to go and see her. To tell you the truth she has not. Then how do you come to be going there? cried Collier, so much astonished that he stopped short in the middle of the pavement. And are you going to her at home in that costume? I don't know really whether I shall be allowed in at all. If she will receive me, so much the better. If not, the matter is ended. As to my clothes, what can I do? Are you going there for some particular reason, or only as a way of getting into her society and that of her friends? No, I have really an object in going. That is, I am going on business. It is difficult to explain, but well, whether you go on business or not is your affair. I do not want to know. The only important thing in my eyes is that you should not be going there simply for the pleasure of spending your evening in such company. Cocots, generals, usurers. If that were the case, I should despise and laugh at you. There are terribly few honest people here, and hardly any whom one can respect, although people put on airs, varia especially. Have you noticed, Prince, how many adventurers there are nowadays, especially here in our dear Russia? How it has happened I never can understand. There used to be a certain amount of solidity in all things, but now what happens? Everything is exposed to the public gaze, bales are thrown back, every wound is probed by careless fingers. We are forever present at an orgy of scandalous revelations. Parents blush when they remember their old-fashioned morality. At Moscow lately, a father was heard urging his son to stop at nothing, at nothing, mind you, to get money. The press seized upon the story, of course, and now it is public property. Look, it's my father, the general, see what he is, and yet I assure you he is an honest man. Only he drinks too much, and his morals and not all we could desire. Yes, that's true. I pity him to tell the truth, but I dare not say so, because everybody would laugh at me. But I do pity him. And who are the really clever men, after all? Money-grubbers, every one of them, from the first to the last. Ypollit finds excuses for money-lending, and says it is a necessity. He talks about the economic movement and the ebb and flow of capital. The devil knows what he means. It makes me angry to hear him talk so, but he is soured by his troubles. Just imagine the general keeps his mother, but she lends him money. She lends it for a week or ten days at very high interest. Isn't it disgusting? And then you would hardly believe it, but my mother, Nina Alexandrovna, helps Ypollit in all sorts of ways, sends him money and clothes. She even goes as far as helping the children through Ypollit, because their mother cares nothing about them, and Varia does the same. Well, just now you said there were no honest nor good people about, that there were only money-grubbers, and yet they are quite close at hand these honest and good people, your mother and Varia. I think there is a good deal of moral strength in helping people in such circumstances. Varia does it from pride and likes showing off and giving herself airs. As to my mother, I really do admire her, yes, and honour her. Ypollit, hardened as he is, feels it. He laughed at first, and thought it vulgar of her, but now he is sometimes quite touched and overcome by her kindness. Hmm! you call that being strong and good. I will remember that. Gania knows nothing about it. He would say it was encouraging vice. Ah! Gania knows nothing about it. It seems there are many things that Gania does not know, exclaimed the prince, as he considered Collier's last words. Do you know? I like you very much indeed, prince. I shall never forget about this afternoon. I like you too, Collier. Listen to me. You are going to live here, are you not? said Collier. I mean to get something to do directly, and earn money. Then shall we three live together? You and I and Ypollit. We will hire a flat, and let the general come and visit us. What do you say? It would be very pleasant, returned the prince, but we must see. I am really rather worried just now. What are we there already? Is that the house? What a long flight of steps! And there's a porter. Well, Collier, I don't know what will come of it all. The prince seemed quite distracted for the moment. You must tell me all about it tomorrow. Don't be afraid. I wish you success. We agree so entirely that I can do so, although I do not understand why you are here. Goodbye, cried Collier excitedly. Now I will rush back and tell Ypollit all about our plans and proposals. But as you are getting in, don't be in the least afraid. You will see her. She is so original about everything. It's the first floor. The porter will show you. End of Part 1 Chapter 12 Recording by Martin Giesen in Hazelmere Surrey Part 1 Chapter 13 of The Idiot This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Martin Giesen The Idiot by Fyodor Dostoevsky Translated by Eva M. Martin Part 1 Chapter 13 The prince was very nervous as he reached the outer door. But he did his best to encourage himself with the reflection that the worst thing that could happen to him would be that he would not be received, or perhaps received, then laughed at for coming. But there was another question which terrified him considerably, and that was what was he going to do when he did get in? And to this question he could fashion no satisfactory reply. If only he could find an opportunity of coming close up to Nastasia Philipovna, and saying to her, Don't ruin yourself by marrying this man. He does not love you. He loves only your money. He told me so himself, and so did Aglaya Ivanovna. And I have come on purpose to warn you. But even that did not seem quite a legitimate or practicable thing to do. Then again there was another delicate question to which he could not find an answer. Dared not, in fact, think of it, but at the very idea of which he trembled and blushed. However, in spite of all his fears and heart quakings, he went in, and asked for Nastasia Philipovna. Nastasia occupied a medium-sized but distinctly tasteful flat, beautifully furnished and arranged. At one period of these five years of Petersburg life, Totski had certainly not spared his expenditure upon her. He had calculated upon her eventual love, and tried to tempt her with a lavish outlay upon comforts and luxuries, knowing too well how easily the heart accustoms itself to comforts, and how difficult it is to tear oneself away from luxuries which have become habitual and little by little indispensable. Nastasia did not reject all this. She even loved her comforts and luxuries, but strangely enough never became, in the least degree, dependent upon them, and always gave the impression that she could do just as well without them. In fact, she went so far as to inform Totski on several occasions that such was the case, which the latter gentleman considered a very unpleasant communication indeed. But, of late, Totski had observed many strange and original features and characteristics in Nastasia, which he had neither known nor reckoned upon in former times, and some of these fascinated him even now, in spite of the fact that all his old calculations with regard to her were long ago cast to the winds. A maid opened the door for the prince. Nastasia's servants were all females, and to his surprise received his request to announce him to her mistress without any astonishment. Neither his dirty boots, nor his wide-brimmed hat, nor his sleeveless cloak, nor his evident confusion of manner produced the least impression upon her. She helped him off with his cloak and begged him to wait a moment in the ante-room while she announced him. The company assembled at Nastasia Philipovna's consisted of none but her most intimate friends, and formed a very small party in comparison with her usual gatherings on this anniversary. In the first place there were present Totski and General Yapanchin. They were both highly amiable, but both appeared to be laboring under a half-hidden feeling of anxiety as to the result of Nastasia's deliberations with regard to Gania, which result was to be made public this evening. Then, of course, there was Gania, who was by no means so amiable as his elders, but stood apart, gloomy and miserable and silent, he had determined not to bring Varia with him. But Nastasia had not even asked after her, though no sooner had he arrived than she reminded him of the episode between himself and the Prince. The General, who had heard nothing of it before, began to listen with some interest, while Gania, dryly, but with perfect candour, went through the whole history, including the fact of his apology to the Prince. He finished by declaring that the Prince was a most extraordinary man, and, goodness knows why, he had been considered an idiot hitherto, for he was very far from being one. Nastasia listened to all this with great interest, but the conversation soon turned to Raghazin and his visit, and this theme proved of the greatest attraction to both Totski and the General. Ptitsin was able to afford some particulars as to Raghazin's conduct since the afternoon. He declared that he had been busy finding money for the latter ever since, and up to nine o'clock, Raghazin having declared that he must absolutely have a hundred thousand rubles by the evening. He added that Raghazin was drunk, of course, but that he thought the money would be forthcoming, for the excited and intoxicated rapture of the fellow impelled him to give any interest or premium that was asked of him, and there were several others engaged in beating up the money also. All this news was received by the company with somewhat gloomy interest. Nastasia was silent and would not say what she thought about it. Ganya was equally uncommunicative. The General seemed the most anxious of all, and decidedly uneasy. The present of pearls which he had prepared with so much joy in the morning had been accepted but coldly, and Nastasia had smiled rather disagreeably as she took it from him. Pardyshenko was the only person present in good spirits. Totski himself, who had the reputation of being a capital talker, and was usually the life and soul of these entertainments, was as silent as any on this occasion, and sat in a state of, for him, most uncommon perturbation. The rest of the guests, an old tutor or schoolmaster, goodness knows why, invited. A young man very timid and shy and silent, a rather loud woman of about forty, apparently an actress, and a very pretty, well-dressed German lady, who hardly said a word all the evening. Not only had no gift for enlivening the proceedings, but hardly knew what to say for themselves when addressed. Under these circumstances the arrival of the prince came almost as a godsend. The announcement of his name gave rise to some surprise, and to some smiles, especially when it became evident from Nastasia's astonished look that she had not thought of inviting him. But her astonishment once over, Nastasia showed such satisfaction that all prepared to greet the prince with cordial smiles of welcome. Of course, remarked General Yipanchin, he does this out of pure innocence. It's a little dangerous, perhaps, to encourage this sort of freedom. But it is rather a good thing that he has arrived just at this moment. He may enliven us a little with his originalities. Especially as he asked himself, said Ferdishenko, what's that got to do with it? asked the general, who loathed Ferdishenko. Why, he must pay toll for his entrance, explained the latter. Prince Mushkin is not Ferdishenko, said the general impatiently. This worthy gentleman could never quite reconcile himself to the idea of meeting Ferdishenko in society, and on an equal footing. Oh, General, spare Ferdishenko! replied the other, smiling, I have special privileges. What do you mean by special privileges? Once before I had the honour of stating them to the company, I will repeat the explanation to-day for your excellency's benefit. You see, excellency, all the world is witty and clever, except myself. I am neither. As a kind of compensation, I am allowed to tell the truth, for it is a well-known fact that only stupid people tell the truth. Added to this, I am a spiteful man, just because I am not clever. If I am offended or injured, I bear it quite patiently, until the man injuring me meets with some misfortune. Then I remember and take my revenge. I return the injury sevenfold, as Ivan Petrovich Petitsin says. Of course he never does so himself. Excellency, no doubt you recall Khrilov's fable, the lion and the ass. Well now, that's you and I. That fable was written precisely for us. You seem to be talking nonsense again, Ferdishenko, growled the general. What is the matter, excellency? I know how to keep my place. When I said just now that we, you and I, were the lion and the ass of Khrilov's fable, of course it is understood that I take the role of the ass. Your excellency is the lion, of which the fable remarks, A mighty lion, terror of the woods, was shorn of his great prowess by old age. And I, your excellency, am the ass. I am of your opinion on that last point, said Ivan Fyodorovich, with ill-concealed irritation. All this was no doubt extremely coarse, and moreover it was premeditated, but after all Ferdishenko had persuaded everyone to accept him as a buffoon. If I am admitted and tolerated here, he had said one day, it is simply because I talk in this way. How can anyone possibly receive such a man as I am? I quite understand. Now could I, a Ferdishenko, be allowed to sit shoulder to shoulder with a clever man like Afanasiy Ivanovich? There is one explanation, only one. I am given the position because it is so entirely inconceivable. But these vulgarities seem to please Nastasya Filipovna, although too often they were both rude and offensive. Those who wished to go to her house were forced to put up with Ferdishenko. Possibly the latter was not mistaken in imagining that he was received simply in order to annoy Totsky, who disliked him extremely. Gania also was often made the but of the gestures sarcasms, who used this method of keeping in Nastasya Filipovna's good graces. The prince will begin by singing us a fashionable ditty, remarked Ferdishenko, and looked at the mistress of the house to see what she would say. I don't think so, Ferdishenko, please be quiet, answered Nastasya Filipovna dryly. Ah, if he is to be under special patronage, I withdraw my claws. But Nastasya Filipovna had now risen and advanced to meet the prince. I was so sorry to have forgotten to ask you to come when I saw you, she said, and I am delighted to be able to thank you personally now, and to express my pleasure at your resolution. So saying, she gazed into his eyes, longing to see whether she could make any guess as to the explanation of his motive in coming to her house. The prince would very likely have made some reply to her kind words, but he was so dazzled by her appearance that he could not speak. Nastasya noticed this with satisfaction. She was in full dress this evening, and her appearance was certainly calculated to impress all beholders. She took his hand and led him towards her other guests. But just before they reached the drawing-room door, the prince stopped her, and hurriedly and in great agitation whispered to her, you are altogether perfection. Even your pallor and thinness are perfect. One could not wish you otherwise. I did so wish to come and see you. I forgive me, please. Don't apologize, said Nastasya, laughing. You spoil the whole originality of the thing. I think what they say about you must be true, that you are so original. So you think me perfection, do you? Yes. Well, you may be a good reader of riddles, but you are wrong there at all events. I'll remind you of this tonight. Nastasya introduced the prince to her guests, to most of whom he was already known. Totsky immediately made some amiable remark. All seemed to brighten up at once, and the conversation became general. Nastasya made the prince sit down next to herself. Dear me, there's nothing so very curious about the prince dropping in after all, remarked Verdishenko. It's quite a clear case, said the hitherto silent Ganya. I have watched the prince almost all day, ever since the moment when he first saw Nastasya Philipovna's portrait at General Yepanchin's. I remember thinking at the time what I am now pretty sure of, and what I may say in passing the prince confessed to myself. Ganya said all this perfectly seriously, and without the slightest appearance of joking. Indeed, he seemed strangely gloomy. I did not confess anything to you, said the prince, blushing. I only answered your question. Bravo! That's frank at any rate, shouted Verdishenko, and there was general laughter. Oh, prince, prince, I should never have thought it of you, said General Yepanchin, and I imagined you a philosopher. Oh, you silent fellows. Judging from the fact that the prince blushed at this innocent joke, like a young girl, I should think that he must, as an honourable man, harbour the noblest intentions, said the old toothless schoolmaster most unexpectedly. He had not so much as opened his mouth before. This remark provoked general mirth, and the old fellow himself laughed loudest of the lot, but ended with a stupendous fit of coughing. Nastasia Philipovna, who loved originality and drollery of all kinds, was apparently very fond of this old man, and rang the bell for more tea to stop his coughing. It was now half-past ten o'clock. Gentlemen, wouldn't you like a little champagne now? she asked. I have it already. It will cheer us up. Do now. No ceremony. This invitation to drink, couched as it was in such informal terms, came very strangely from Nastasia Philipovna. Her usual entertainments were not quite like this. There was more style about them. However, the wine was not refused. Each guest took a glass, accepting Gania, who drank nothing. It was extremely difficult to account for Nastasia's strange condition of mind, which became more evident each moment, and which none could avoid noticing. She took her glass, and vowed she would empty it three times that evening. She was hysterical, and laughed aloud every other minute with no apparent reason, the next moment relapsing into gloom and thoughtfulness. Some of her guests suspected that she must be ill, but concluded at last that she was expecting something, for she continued to look at her watch impatiently and unceasingly. She was most absent and strange. You seem to be a little feverish tonight," said the actress. Yes, I feel quite ill. I have been obliged to put on this shawl. I feel so cold," replied Nastasia. She had certainly grown very pale, and every now and then she tried to suppress a trembling in her limbs. Had we not better allow our hostess to retire," asked Totsky of the general. Not at all, gentlemen, not at all. Your presence is absolutely necessary to me tonight," said Nastasia significantly. As most of those present were aware that this evening a certain very important decision was to be taken, these words of Nastasia Philipovna's appeared to be fraught with much hidden interest. The general and Totsky exchanged looks. Gania fidgeted convulsively in his chair. Let's play at some game," suggested the actress. I know a new and most delightful game," added Ferdishenko. What is it? asked the actress. Well, when we tried it we were a party of people like this, for instance, and somebody proposed that each of us, without leaving his place at the table, should relate something about himself. It had to be something that he really and honestly considered the very worst action he had ever committed in his life, but he was to be honest. That was the chief point. He wasn't to be allowed to lie. What an extraordinary idea," said the general. That's the beauty of it, general. It's a funny notion," said Totsky, and yet quite natural it's only a new way of boasting. Perhaps that is just what was so fascinating about it. Why, it would be a game to cry over, not to laugh at," said the actress. Did it succeed? asked Nastasia Philipovna. Come, let's try it. Let's try it. We really are not quite so jolly as we might be. Let's try it. We may like it. It's original at all events. Yes," said Ferdishenko. It's a good idea. Come along. The men begin. Of course no one need tell a story if he prefers to be disobliging. We must draw lots. Throw your slips of paper, gentlemen, into this hat, and the prince shall draw for turns. It's a very simple game. All you have to do is to tell the story of the worst action of your life. It's as simple as anything. I'll prompt anyone who forgets the rules. No one liked the idea much. Some smiled, some frowned, some objected, but faintly, not wishing to oppose Nastasia's wishes. For this new idea seemed to be rather well received by her. She was still in an excited hysterical state, laughing convulsively at nothing and everything. Her eyes were blazing, and her cheeks showed two bright red spots against the white. The melancholy appearance of some of her guests seemed to add to her sarcastic humour, and perhaps the very cynicism and cruelty of the game proposed by Verdeshenko pleased her. At all events she was attracted by the idea, and gradually her guests came round to her side. The thing was original at least, and might turn out to be amusing. And supposing it's something that one can't speak about before ladies, asked the timid and silent young man. Why then, of course, you won't say anything about it, as if there are not plenty of sins to your score without the need of those, said Verdeshenko. But I merely don't know which of my actions is the worst, said the lively actress. Ladies are exempted if they like. And how are you to know that one isn't lying? And if one lies, the whole point of the game is lost, said Gania. Oh, but think how delightful to hear how one's friends lie. Besides you needn't be afraid, Gania, everybody knows what your worst action is without the need of any lying on your part. Only think, gentlemen, and Verdeshenko here grew quite enthusiastic. Only think with what eyes we shall observe one another tomorrow, after our tales have been told. But surely this is a joke, Nastasia Filipovna, asked Totsky. You don't really mean us to play this game. Whoever is afraid of wolves had better not go into the wood, said Nastasia, smiling. But pardon me, Mr. Verdeshenko, is it possible to make a game out of this kind of thing, persisted Totsky, growing more and more uneasy? I assure you it can't be a success. And why not? Why the last time I simply told straight off about how I stole three rubles? Perhaps so, but it is hardly possible that you told it so that it seemed like truth, or so that you were believed, and as Gavrila Ardalyonovich has said, the least suggestion of a false word takes all point out of the game. It seems to me that sincerity, on the other hand, is only possible if combined with a kind of bad taste that would be utterly out of place here. How subtle you are, Afanasiy Ivanovich! You astonish me! cried Verdeshenko. You will remark, gentlemen, that in saying that I could not recount the story of my theft so as to be believed, Afanasiy Ivanovich has very ingeniously implied that I am not capable of thieving. It would have been bad taste to say so openly. And all the time he is probably firmly convinced in his own mind that I am very well capable of it. But now, gentlemen, to business. Put in your slips, ladies and gentlemen. Is yours in, Mr. Totsky? So then we are all ready. Now, Prince, draw, please. The Prince silently put his hand into the hat and drew the names. Verdeshenko was first, then Ptitsin, then the general, Totsky next, his own fifth, then Ganya, and so on. The ladies did not draw. Oh dear! oh dear! cried Verdeshenko. I did so hope the Prince would come out first and then the general. Well, gentlemen, I suppose I must set a good example. What vexes me much is that I am such an insignificant creature that it matters nothing to anybody whether I have done bad actions or not. Besides, which am I to choose? It's an embarras de richesse. Shall I tell how I became a thief on one occasion only to convince Sarvanasi Ivanovich that it is possible to steal without being a thief? Do go on, Verdeshenko, and don't make unnecessary preface, or you'll never finish, said Nastasia Filipovna. All observed how irritable and cross she had become since her last burst of laughter. But nonetheless obstinately did she stick to her absurd whim about this new game. Totsky sat looking miserable enough. The general lingered over his champagne, and seemed to be thinking of some story for the time when his turn should come. End of Part 1, Chapter 13 Part 1, Chapter 14 I have no wit, Nastasia Filipovna began Verdeshenko, and therefore I talk too much perhaps. Where I as witty now as Mr. Totsky or the general, I should probably have sat silent all the evening as they have. Now, Prince, what do you think? Are there not far more thieves than honest men in this world? Don't you think we may say there does not exist a single person so honest that he has never stolen anything whatever in his life? What a silly idea! said the actress. Of course it is not the case. I have never stolen anything for one. Hmm, very well, Daria Alexeevna, you have not stolen anything. Agreed. But how about the Prince now? Look how he is blushing. I think you are partially right, but you exaggerate, said the Prince, who had certainly blashed up of a sudden for some reason or other. Verdeshenko, either tell us your story or be quiet and mind your own business. You exhaust all patience, cutting the and irritably remarked Nastasia Filipovna. Immediately, immediately, as for my story, gentlemen, it is too stupid and absurd to tell you. I assure you I am not a thief, and yet I have stolen. I cannot explain why. It was at Semyon Ivanovichyshenko's country house one Sunday. He had a dinner party. After dinner, the men stayed at the table over their wine. It struck me to ask the daughter of the house to play something on the piano. So I passed through the corner-room to join the ladies. In that room, on Maria Ivanovna's writing-table, I observed a three ruble note. She must have taken it out for some purpose and left it lying there. There was no one about. I took up the note and put it in my pocket. Why, I can't say. I don't know what possessed me to do it, but it was done. And I went quickly back to the dining-room and reseated myself at the dinner-table. I sat and waited there in a great state of excitement. I talked hard and told lots of stories and laughed like mad. Then I joined the ladies. In half an hour or so the loss was discovered, and the servants were being put under examination. Daria, the housemaid, was suspected. I exhibited the greatest interest and sympathy, and I remember that poor Daria quite lost her head, and that I began assuring her, before everyone, that I would guarantee her forgiveness on the part of her mistress, if she would confess her guilt. They all stared at the girl, and I remember a most wonderful attraction in the reflection, that here was I, sermonising away, with the money in my own pocket all the while. I went and spent the three rupals that very evening at a restaurant. I went in and asked for a bottle of Lafitte, and drank it up. I wanted to be rid of the money. I did not feel much remorse, either then or afterwards. But I would not repeat the performance. Believe it or not, as you please. There, that's all. Only, of course, that's not nearly your worst action, said the actress with evident dislike in her face. That was a psychological phenomenon, not an action, remarked Totsky. And what about the maid? asked Nastasia Filipovna, with undisguised contempt. Oh, she was turned out next day, of course. It's a very strict household there. And you allowed it. I should think so, rather. I was not going to return and confess next day, laughed Ferdishenko, who seemed a little surprised at the disagreeable impression which his story had made on all parties. How mean you were, said Nastasia. You wish to hear of a man tell of his worst actions, and you expect the story to come out goody-goody. One's worst actions always are mean. We shall see what the general has to say for himself now. All is not gold that glitters, you know. And because a man keeps his carriage, he need not be specially virtuous, I assure you. All sorts of people keep carriages. And by what means? In a word, Ferdishenko was very angry and rapidly forgetting himself. His whole face was drawn with passion. Strange as it may appear, he had expected much better success for his story. These little errors of taste on Ferdishenko's part occurred very frequently. Nastasia trembled with rage, and looked fixedly at him, whereupon he relaxed into alarmed silence. He realised that he had gone a little too far. Had we not better end this game? asked Totski. It's my turn, but I plead exemption, said Ptitsin. You don't care to oblige us? asked Nastasia. I cannot, I assure you. I confess I do not understand how any one can play this game. Then general, it's your turn, continued Nastasia Philipovna. And if you refuse, the whole game will fall through, which will disappoint me very much, for I was looking forward to relating a certain page of my own life. I am only waiting for you and Afanazi Ivanovich to have your turns, for I require the support of your example, she added smiling. Oh, if you put it that way! cried the general excitedly. I'm ready to tell the whole story of my life, but I must confess that I prepared a little story in anticipation of my turn. Nastasia smiled amiable at him, but evidently her depression and irritability were increasing with every moment. Totski was dreadfully alarmed to hear her promise a revelation out of her own life. I, like everyone else, began the general, have committed certain not altogether graceful actions, so to speak, during the course of my life. But the strangest thing of all in my case is that I should consider the little anecdote which I am now about to give you as a confession of the worst of my bad actions. It is thirty-five years since it all happened, and yet I cannot to this very day recall the circumstances without as it were a sudden pang at the heart. It was a silly affair. I was an ensign at the time. You know, ensigns, their blood is boiling water, their circumstances generally panurious. Well, I had a servant Nikifor, who used to do everything for me in my quarters, economized and managed for me, and even laid hands on anything he could find, belonging to other people, in order to augment our household goods, but a faithful, honest fellow all the same. I was strict, but just by nature. At that time we were stationed in a small town. I was quartered at an old widow's house, a lieutenant's widow of eighty years of age. She lived in a wretched little wooden house, and had not even a servant, so poor was she. Her relations had all died off. Her husband was dead and buried forty years since, and a niece who had lived with her and bullied her up to three years ago was dead too, so that she was quite alone. Well, I was precious dull with her, especially as she was so childish that there was nothing to be got out of her. Eventually she stole a fowl of mine. The business is a mystery to this day, but it could have been no one but herself. I requested to be quartered somewhere else, and was shifted to the other end of the town, to the house of a merchant with a large family, and a long beard, as I remember him. Nikifor and I were delighted to go, but the old lady was not pleased at our departure. Well, a day or two afterwards, when I returned from Drill, Nikifor says to me, We oughtn't to have left our terrine with the old lady. I have nothing to serve the soup in. I asked how it came about that the terrine had been left. Nikifor explained that the old lady refused to give it up, because she said we had broken her bowl, and she must have our terrine in place of it. She had declared that I had so arranged the matter with herself. This baseness on her part, of course, aroused my young blood to fever heat. I jumped up, and away I flew. I arrived at the old woman's house beside myself. She was sitting in a corner, all alone, leaning her face on her hand. I fell on her like a clap of thunder. You old wretch, I yelled and all that sort of thing, in real Russian style. Well, when I began cursing at her, a strange thing happened. I looked at her, and she stared back with her eyes starting out of her head, but she did not say a word. She seemed to sway about as she sat, and looked and looked at me in the strangest way. Well, I soon stopped swearing and looked closer at her, asked her questions, but not a word could I get out of her. The flies were buzzing about the room, and only this sound broke the silence. The sun was setting outside. I didn't know what to make of it, so I went away. Before I reached home, I was met and summoned to the majors, so that it was some while before I actually got there. When I came in, Nikifor met me. Have you heard, sir, that our old lady is dead? Dead when? Oh, an hour and a half ago. That meant nothing more nor less than that she was dying at the moment when I pounced on her and began abusing her. This produced a great effect upon me. I used to dream of the poor old woman at night. I really am not superstitious, but two days after, I went to her funeral. And as time went on, I thought more and more about her. I said to myself, this woman, this human being, lived to a great age. She had children, husband and family, friends and relations. Her household was busy and cheerful. She was surrounded by smiling faces, and then suddenly they are gone. And she is left alone like a solitary fly, like a fly, cursed with the burden of her age. At sunset, on a lovely summer's evening, my little old woman passes away. A thought she will notice which offers much food for reflection. And behold, instead of tears and prayers to start her on her last journey, she has insults and jeers from a young ensign, who stands before her with his hands in his pockets, making a terrible row about a soup-tereen. Of course I was to blame. And even now that I have time to look back at it calmly, I pity the poor old thing no less. I repeat that I wonder at myself, for after all, I was not really responsible. Why did she take it into her head to die at that moment? But the more I thought of it, the more I felt the weight of it upon my mind, and I never quite got rid of the impression, until I put a couple of old women into an arms-house, and kept them there at my own expense. There, that's all. I repeat, I dare say I have committed many a grievous sin in my day, but I cannot help always looking back upon this, as the worst action I have ever perpetrated. And instead of a bad action, your Excellency has detailed one of your noblest deeds, said Verdyshenko. Verdyshenko is done. Dear me general, said Nastasia Philipovna, absently, I really never imagined you had such a good heart. The general laughed with great satisfaction, and applied himself once more to the champagne. It was now Totski's turn, and his story was awaited with great curiosity, while all eyes turned on Nastasia Philipovna, as though anticipating that his revelation must be connected somehow with her. Nastasia, during the whole of his story, pulled at the lace trimming of her sleeve, and never once glanced at the speaker. Totski was a handsome man, rather stout, with a very polite and dignified manner. He was always well dressed, and his linen was exquisite. He had plump white hands, and wore a magnificent diamond ring on one finger. What simplifies the duty before me considerably, in my opinion, he began, is that I am bound to recall and relate the very worst action of my life. In such circumstances there can, of course, be no doubt. One's conscience very soon informs one what is the proper narrative to tell. I admit that among the many silly and thoughtless actions of my life, the memory of one comes prominently forward, and reminds me that it lay long like a stone on my heart. Some twenty years since I paid a visit to Platon Ordinsev at his country house. He had just been elected Marshal of the nobility, and had come there with his young wife for the winter holidays. And Fisa Alexeevna's birthday came off just then too, and there were two balls arranged. At that time Dumafis's beautiful work, La Dammo Camelia, a novel which I consider imperishable, had just come into fashion. In the provinces all the ladies were in raptures over it, those who had read it at least. Camelias were all the fashion. Everyone inquired for them. Everybody wanted them, and a grand lot of Camelias ought to be got in a country town, as you all know, and two balls to provide for. Poor Peter Volkhovskoy was desperately in love with Anfisa Alexeevna. I don't know whether there was anything. I mean, I don't know whether he could possibly have indulged in any hope. The poor fellow was beside himself to get her a bouquet of Camelias. Countess Sotsky and Sophia Bespalova, as everyone knew, were coming with white Camelia bouquets. And Fisa wished for red ones for effect. Well, her husband Platon was driven desperate to find some. And the day before the ball, Anfisa's rival snapped up the only red Camelias to be had in the place, from under Platon's nose. And Platon, wretched man, was done for. Now, if Peter had only been able to step in at this moment with a red bouquet, his little hopes might have made gigantic strides. A woman's gratitude under such circumstances would have been boundless. But it was practically an impossibility. The night before the ball, I met Peter, looking radiant. What is it, I ask? I found them. Eureka! No, where, where? At Ekshaisk, a little town fifteen miles off, there's a rich old merchant, who keeps a lot of canaries, has no children, and he and his wife are devoted to flowers. He's got some Camelias. And what if he won't let you have them? I'll go on my knees and implore till I get them. I won't go away. When shall you start? Tomorrow morning at five o'clock. Go on, I said, and good luck to you. I was glad for the poor fellow and went home. But an idea got hold of me somehow. I don't know how. It was nearly two in the morning. I rang the bell and ordered the coachman to be waked up and sent to me. He came. I gave him a tip of fifteen roubles, and told him to get the carriage ready at once. In half an hour it was at the door. I got in, and off we went. By five I drew up at the Ekshaiski Inn. I waited there till dawn, and soon after six I was off, and at the old merchant Trepalov's. Camelias, I said, Father, save me. Save me. Let me have some Camelias. He was a tall, grey old man, a terrible-looking old gentleman. Not a bit of it. He says I won't. Down I went on my knees. Don't say so. Don't think what you're doing, I cried. It's a matter of life and death. If that's the case, take them, says he. So up I get, and cut such a bouquet of red Camelias. He had a whole greenhouse full of them, lovely ones. The old fellow sighs. I pull out a hundred roubles. No, no, says he. Don't insult me that way. Oh, if that's the case, give it to the village hospital, I say. Ah, he says, that's quite a different matter. That's good of you and generous. I'll pay it in there for you with pleasure. I liked that old fellow, Russian to the core de la vraie souche. I went home in raptures, but took another road in order to avoid Peter. Immediately on arriving I sent up the bouquet for Anfisa to see when she awoke. You may imagine her ecstasy, her gratitude. The wretched Platon, who had almost died since yesterday of the reproaches showered upon him, wept on my shoulder. Of course poor Peter had no chance after this. I thought he would cut my throat at first, and went about armed ready to meet him. But he took it differently. He fainted and had brain fever and convulsions. A month after, when he had hardly recovered, he went off to the Crimea, and there he was shot. I assure you this business left me no peace for many a long year. Why did I do it? I was not in love with her myself. I'm afraid it was simply mischief, pure cussidness on my part. If I hadn't seized that bouquet from under his nose, he might have been alive now, and a happy man. He might have been successful in life, and never have gone to fight the Turks. Totsky ended his tale with the same dignity that had characterised its commencement. Nastasia Philipovna's eyes were flashing in a most unmistakable way now, and her lips were all a quiver by the time Totsky finished his story. All present watched both of them with curiosity. You were right, Totsky, said Nastasia. It is a dull game and a stupid one. I'll just tell my story as I promised, and then we'll play cards. Yes, but let's have the story first, cried the general. Prince, said Nastasia Philipovna, unexpectedly turning to Mushkin. Here are my old friends, Totsky and General Yepanchin, who wish to marry me off. Tell me what you think. Shall I marry or not? As you decide, so shall it be. Totsky grew white as a sheet. The general was struck dumb. All present started and listened intently. Gania sat rooted to his chair. Marry whom? asked the prince faintly. Gavrila Ardalyonovich Evolgin, said Nastasia firmly and evenly. There were a few seconds of dead silence. The prince tried to speak, but could not form his words. A great weight seemed to lie upon his breast and suffocate him. No, don't marry him. He whispered at last, drawing his breath with an effort. So be it then. Gavrila Ardalyonovich, she spoke solemnly and forcibly. You hear the prince's decision. Take it as my decision, and let that be the end of the matter for good and all. Nastasia Filipovna! cried Totsky in a quaking voice. Nastasia Filipovna! said the general in persuasive but agitated tones. Everyone in the room fidgeted in their places and waited to see what was coming next. Well, gentlemen, she continued gazing around in apparent astonishment. What do you all look so alarmed about? Why are you so upset? But recollect, Nastasia Filipovna! Stamed Totsky, you gave a promise, quite a free one, and you might have spared us this. I am confused and bewildered, I know, but in a word, at such a moment and before company, and all so so irregular, finishing off a game with a serious matter like this, a matter of honour, and of heart. And I don't follow you, Afanasiy Ivanovich, you are losing your head. In the first place, what do you mean by before company? Isn't the company good enough for you? And what's all that about a game? I wish to tell my little story, and I told it. Don't you like it? You heard what I said to the prince, as you decide so it shall be. If he had said yes, I should have given my consent. But he said no, so I refused. Here was my whole life hanging on his one word. Surely I was serious enough. The prince! What on earth has the prince got to do with it? Who the deuce is the prince? cried the general, who could conceal his wrath no longer. The prince has this to do with it, that I see in him, for the first time in all my life, a man endowed with real truthfulness of spirit, and I trust him. He trusted me at first sight, and I trust him. It only remains for me, then, to thank Nastasia Philipovna for the great delicacy with which she has treated me, said Gania, as pale as death and with quivering lips. That is my plain duty, of course. But the prince! What has he to do in the matter? I see what you are driving at, said Nastasia Philipovna. You imply that the prince is after the seventy-five thousand rubles. I quite understand you. Mr. Totski, I forgot to say, take your seventy-five thousand rubles. I don't want them. I let you go free for nothing. Take your freedom. You must need it. Nine years and three months' captivity is enough for anybody. Tomorrow I shall start afresh. Today I am a free agent for the first time in my life. General, you must take your pearls back, too. Give them to your wife. Here they are. Tomorrow I shall leave this flat altogether, and then there will be no more of these pleasant little social gatherings, ladies and gentlemen. So saying, she scornfully rose from her seat as though to depart. Nastasia Philipovna! Nastasia Philipovna! The words burst involuntarily from every mouth. All presence started up in bewildered excitement, all surrounded her. All had listened uneasily to her wild, disconnected sentences. All felt that something had happened. Something had gone very far wrong indeed. But no one could make head or tail of the matter. At this moment there was a furious ring at the bell, and a great knock at the door, exactly similar to the one which had startled the company at Garnier's house in the afternoon. Ah! ah! here's the climax at last! At half-past twelve! cried Nastasia Philipovna. Sit down, gentlemen, I beg you! Something is about to happen. So saying, she reseated herself. A strange smile played on her lips. She sat quite still, but watched the door in a fever of impatience. Rogorgin and his hundred thousand rubles, no doubt of it, muttered ptits into himself. End of Part 1 Chapter 14 Recording by Martin Geeson in Hazelmere Surrey