‘Then, at all events, he DID sleep here, did he?’
‘Well—he did sleep here, yes.’
All this was suspicious and unsatisfactory. Very likely
the porter had received new instructions during the
interval of the prince’s absence; his manner was so
different now. He had been obliging—now he was as
obstinate and silent as a mule. However, the prince
decided to call again in a couple of hours, and after that to
watch the house, in case of need. His hope was that he
might yet find Nastasia at the address which he had just
received. To that address he now set off at full speed.
But alas! at the German lady’s house they did not even
appear to understand what he wanted. After a while, by
means of certain hints, he was able to gather that Nastasia
must have had a quarrel with her friend two or three
weeks ago, since which date the latter had neither heard
nor seen anything of her. He was given to understand that The Idiot
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the subject of Nastasia’s present whereabouts was not of
the slightest interest to her; and that Nastasia might marry
all the princes in the world for all she cared! So Muishkin
took his leave hurriedly. It struck him now that she might
have gone away to Moscow just as she had done the last
time, and that Rogojin had perhaps gone after her, or
even WITH her. If only he could find some trace!
However, he must take his room at the hotel; and he
started off in that direction. Having engaged his room, he
was asked by the waiter whether he would take dinner;
replying mechanically in the affirmative, he sat down and
waited; but it was not long before it struck him that dining
would delay him. Enraged at this idea, he started up,
crossed the dark passage (which filled him with horrible
impressions and gloomy forebodings), and set out once
more for Rogojin’s. Rogojin had not returned, and no
one came to the door. He rang at the old lady’s door
opposite, and was informed that Parfen Semionovitch
would not return for three days. The curiosity with which
the old servant stared at him again impressed the prince
disagreeably. He could not find the porter this time at all.
As before, he crossed the street and watched the
windows from the other side, walking up and down in
anguish of soul for half an hour or so in the stifling heat. The Idiot
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Nothing stirred; the blinds were motionless; indeed, the
prince began to think that the apparition of Rogojin’s face
could have been nothing but fancy. Soothed by this
thought, he drove off once more to his friends at the
Ismailofsky barracks. He was expected there. The mother
had already been to three or four places to look for
Nastasia, but had not found a trace of any kind.
The prince said nothing, but entered the room, sat
down silently, and stared at them, one after the other, with
the air of a man who cannot understand what is being said
to him. It was strange— one moment he seemed to be so
observant, the next so absent; his behaviour struck all the
family as most remarkable. At length he rose from his seat,
and begged to be shown Nastasia’s rooms. The ladies
reported afterwards how he had examined everything in
the apartments. He observed an open book on the table,
Madam Bovary, and requested the leave of the lady of the
house to take it with him. He had turned down the leaf at
the open page, and pocketed it before they could explain
that it was a library book. He had then seated himself by
the open window, and seeing a card-table, he asked who
played cards.
He was informed that Nastasia used to play with
Rogojin every evening, either at ‘preference’ or ‘little The Idiot
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fool,’ or ‘whist"; that this had been their practice since her
last return from Pavlofsk; that she had taken to this
amusement because she did not like to see Rogojin sitting
silent and dull for whole evenings at a time; that the day
after Nastasia had made a remark to this effect, Rogojin
had whipped a pack of cards out of his pocket. Nastasia
had laughed, but soon they began playing. The prince
asked where were the cards, but was told that Rogojin
used to bring a new pack every day, and always carried it
away in his pocket.
The good ladies recommended the prince to try
knocking at Rogojin’s once more—not at once, but in the
evening Meanwhile, the mother would go to Pavlofsk to
inquire at Dana Alexeyevna’s whether anything had been
heard of Nastasia there. The prince was to come back at
ten o’clock and meet her, to hear her news and arrange
plans for the morrow.
In spite of the kindly-meant consolations of his new
friends, the prince walked to his hotel in inexpressible
anguish of spirit, through the hot, dusty streets, aimlessly
staring at the faces of those who passed him. Arrived at his
destination, he determined to rest awhile in his room
before be started for Rogojin’s once more. He sat down, The Idiot
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rested his elbows on the table and his head on his hands,
and fell to thinking.
Heaven knows how long and upon what subjects he
thought. He thought of many things—of Vera Lebedeff,
and of her father; of Hippolyte; of Rogojin himself, first at
the funeral, then as he had met him in the park, then,
suddenly, as they had met in this very passage, outside,
when Rogojin had watched in the darkness and awaited
him with uplifted knife. The prince remembered his
enemy’s eyes as they had glared at him in the darkness. He
shuddered, as a sudden idea struck him.
This idea was, that if Rogojin were in Petersburg,
though he might hide for a time, yet he was quite sure to
come to him—the prince—before long, with either good
or evil intentions, but probably with the same intention as
on that other occasion. At all events, if Rogojin were to
come at all he would be sure to seek the prince here—he
had no other town address—perhaps in this same corridor;
he might well seek him here if he needed him. And
perhaps he did need him. This idea seemed quite natural
to the prince, though he could not have explained why he
should so suddenly have become necessary to Rogojin.
Rogojin would not come if all were well with him, that
was part of the thought; he would come if all were not The Idiot
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well; and certainly, undoubtedly, all would not be well
with him. The prince could not bear this new idea; he
took his hat and rushed out towards the street. It was
almost dark in the passage.
‘What if he were to come out of that corner as I go by
and—and stop me?’ thought the prince, as he approached
the familiar spot. But no one came out.
He passed under the gateway and into the street. The
crowds of people walking about—as is always the case at
sunset in Petersburg, during the summer—surprised him,
but he walked on in the direction of Rogojin’s house.
About fifty yards from the hotel, at the first cross-road,
as he passed through the crowd of foot-passengers
sauntering along, someone touched his shoulder, and said
in a whisper into his ear:
‘Lef Nicolaievitch, my friend, come along with me.’ It
was Rogojin.
The prince immediately began to tell him, eagerly and
joyfully, how he had but the moment before expected to
see him in the dark passage of the hotel.
‘I was there,’ said Rogojin, unexpectedly. ‘Come
along.’ The prince was surprised at this answer; but his
astonishment increased a couple of minutes afterwards,
when he began to consider it. Having thought it over, he The Idiot
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glanced at Rogojin in alarm. The latter was striding along
a yard or so ahead, looking straight in front of him, and
mechanically making way for anyone he met.
‘Why did you not ask for me at my room if you were
in the hotel?’ asked the prince, suddenly.
Rogojin stopped and looked at him; then reflected, and
replied as though he had not heard the question:
‘Look here, Lef Nicolaievitch, you go straight on to the
house; I shall walk on the other side. See that we keep
together.’
So saying, Rogojin crossed the road.
Arrived on the opposite pavement, he looked back to
see whether the prince were moving, waved his hand in
the direction of the Gorohovaya, and strode on, looking
across every moment to see whether Muishkin understood
his instructions. The prince supposed that Rogojin desired
to look out for someone whom he was afraid to miss; but
if so, why had he not told HIM whom to look out for? So
the two proceeded for half a mile or so. Suddenly the
prince began to tremble from some unknown cause. He
could not bear it, and signalled to Rogojin across the road.
The latter came at once.
‘Is Nastasia Philipovna at your house?’
‘Yes.’ The Idiot
1128 of 1149
‘And was it you looked out of the window under the
blind this morning?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then why did—‘
But the prince could not finish his question; he did not
know what to say. Besides this, his heart was beating so
that he found it difficult to speak at all. Rogojin was silent
also and looked at him as before, with an expression of
deep thoughtfulness.
‘Well, I’m going,’ he said, at last, preparing to recross
the road. ‘You go along here as before; we will keep to
different sides of the road; it’s better so, you’ll see.’
When they reached the Gorohovaya, and came near
the house, the prince’s legs were trembling so that he
could hardly walk. It was about ten o’clock. The old lady’s
windows were open, as before; Rogojin’s were all shut,
and in the darkness the white blinds showed whiter than
ever. Rogojin and the prince each approached the house
on his respective side of the road; Rogojin, who was on
the near side, beckoned the prince across. He went over to
the doorway.
‘Even the porter does not know that I have come
home now. I told him, and told them at my mother’s too,
that I was off to Pavlofsk,’ said Rogojin, with a cunning The Idiot
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and almost satisfied smile. ‘We’ll go in quietly and nobody
will hear us.’
He had the key in his hand. Mounting the staircase he
turned and signalled to the prince to go more softly; he
opened the door very quietly, let the prince in, followed
him, locked the door behind him, and put the key in his
pocket.
‘Come along,’ he whispered.
He had spoken in a whisper all the way. In spite of his
apparent outward composure, he was evidently in a state
of great mental agitation. Arrived in a large salon, next to
the study, he went to the window and cautiously
beckoned the prince up to him.
‘When you rang the bell this morning I thought it must
be you. I went to the door on tip-toe and heard you
talking to the servant opposite. I had told her before that if
anyone came and rang— especially you, and I gave her
your name—she was not to tell about me. Then I
thought, what if he goes and stands opposite and looks up,
or waits about to watch the house? So I came to this very
window, looked out, and there you were staring straight at
me. That’s how it came about.’
‘Where is Nastasia Philipovna?’ asked the prince,
breathlessly. The Idiot
1130 of 1149
‘She’s here,’ replied Rogojin, slowly, after a slight
pause.
‘Where?’
Rogojin raised his eyes and gazed intently at the prince.
‘Come,’ he said.
He continued to speak in a whisper, very deliberately as
before, and looked strangely thoughtful and dreamy. Even
while he told the story of how he had peeped through the
blind, he gave the impression of wishing to say something
else. They entered the study. In this room some changes
had taken place since the prince last saw it. It was now
divided into two equal parts by a heavy green silk curtain
stretched across it, separating the alcove beyond, where
stood Rogojin’s bed, from the rest of the room.
The heavy curtain was drawn now, and it was very
dark. The bright Petersburg summer nights were already
beginning to close in, and but for the full moon, it would
have been difficult to distinguish anything in Rogojin’s
dismal room, with the drawn blinds. They could just see
one anothers faces, however, though not in detail.
Rogojin’s face was white, as usual. His glittering eyes
watched the prince with an intent stare.
‘Had you not better light a candle?’ said Muishkin. The Idiot
1131 of 1149
‘No, I needn’t,’ replied Rogojin, and taking the other
by the hand he drew him down to a chair. He himself
took a chair opposite and drew it up so close that he
almost pressed against the prince’s knees. At their side was
a little round table.
Sit down,’ said Rogojin; ‘let’s rest a bit.’ There was
silence for a moment.
‘I knew you would be at that hotel,’ he continued, just
as men sometimes commence a serious conversation by
discussing any outside subject before leading up to the
main point. ‘As I entered the passage it struck me that
perhaps you were sitting and waiting for me, just as I was
waiting for you. Have you been to the old lady at
Ismailofsky barracks?’
‘Yes,’ said the prince, squeezing the word out with
difficulty owing to the dreadful beating of his heart.
‘I thought you would. ‘They’ll talk about it,’ I thought;
so I determined to go and fetch you to spend the night
here—’We will be together,’ I thought, ‘for this one
night—’’
‘Rogojin, WHERE is Nastasia Philipovna?’ said the
prince, suddenly rising from his seat. He was quaking in all
his limbs, and his words came in a scarcely audible
whisper. Rogojin rose also. The Idiot
1132 of 1149
‘There,’ he whispered, nodding his head towards the
curtain.
‘Asleep?’ whispered the prince.
Rogojin looked intently at him again, as before.
‘Let’s go in—but you mustn’t—well—let’s go in.’
He lifted the curtain, paused—and turned to the prince.
‘Go in,’ he said, motioning him to pass behind the curtain.
