crime; clearly proving that this malady had existed long
before the murder was perpetrated, and had been brought
on by the sufferings of the accused.
But Rogojin added no words of his own in
confirmation of this view, and as before, he recounted
with marvellous exactness the details of his crime. He was
convicted, but with extenuating circumstances, and
condemned to hard labour in Siberia for fifteen years. He
heard his sentence grimly, silently, and thoughtfully. His
colossal fortune, with the exception of the comparatively
small portion wasted in the first wanton period of his
inheritance, went to his brother, to the great satisfaction of
the latter.
The old lady, Rogojin’s mother, is still alive, and
remembers her favourite son Parfen sometimes, but not The Idiot
1145 of 1149
clearly. God spared her the knowledge of this dreadful
calamity which had overtaken her house.
Lebedeff, Keller, Gania, Ptitsin, and many other friends
of ours continue to live as before. There is scarcely any
change in them, so that there is no need to tell of their
subsequent doings.
Hippolyte died in great agitation, and rather sooner
than he expected, about a fortnight after Nastasia
Phiipovna’s death. Colia was much affected by these
events, and drew nearer to his mother in heart and
sympathy. Nina Alexandrovna is anxious, because he is
‘thoughtful beyond his years,’ but he will, we think, make
a useful and active man.
The prince’s further fate was more or less decided by
Colia, who selected, out of all the persons he had met
during the last six or seven months, Evgenie Pavlovitch, as
friend and confidant. To him he made over all that he
knew as to the events above recorded, and as to the
present condition of the prince. He was not far wrong in
his choice. Evgenie Pavlovitch took the deepest interest in
the fate of the unfortunate ‘idiot,’ and, thanks to his
influence, the prince found himself once more with Dr.
Schneider, in Switzerland. The Idiot
1146 of 1149
Evgenie Pavlovitch, who went abroad at this time,
intending to live a long while on the continent, being, as
he often said, quite superfluous in Russia, visits his sick
friend at Schneider’s every few months.
But Dr. Schneider frowns ever more and more and
shakes his head; he hints that the brain is fatally injured; he
does not as yet declare that his patient is incurable, but he
allows himself to express the gravest fears.
Evgenie takes this much to heart, and he has a heart, as
is proved by the fact that he receives and even answers
letters from Colia. But besides this, another trait in his
character has become apparent, and as it is a good trait we
will make haste to reveal it. After each visit to Schneider’s
establishment, Evgenie Pavlovitch writes another letter,
besides that to Colia, giving the most minute particulars
concerning the invalid’s condition. In these letters is to be
detected, and in each one more than the last, a growing
feeling of friendship and sympathy.
The individual who corresponds thus with Evgenie
Pavlovitch, and who engages so much of his attention and
respect, is Vera Lebedeff. We have never been able to
discover clearly how such relations sprang up. Of course
the root of them was in the events which we have already
recorded, and which so filled Vera with grief on the The Idiot
1147 of 1149
prince’s account that she fell seriously ill. But exactly how
the acquaintance and friendship came about, we cannot
say.
We have spoken of these letters chiefly because in them
is often to be found some news of the Epanchin family,
and of Aglaya in particular. Evgenie Pavlovitch wrote of
her from Paris, that after a short and sudden attachment to
a certain Polish count, an exile, she had suddenly married
him, quite against the wishes of her parents, though they
had eventually given their consent through fear of a
terrible scandal. Then, after a six months’ silence, Evgenie
Pavlovitch informed his correspondent, in a long letter,
full of detail, that while paying his last visit to Dr.
Schneider’s establishment, he had there come across the
whole Epanchin family (excepting the general, who had
remained in St. Petersburg) and Prince S. The meeting
was a strange one. They all received Evgenie Pavlovitch
with effusive delight; Adelaida and Alexandra were deeply
grateful to him for his ‘angelic kindness to the unhappy
prince.’
Lizabetha Prokofievna, when she saw poor Muishkin,
in his enfeebled and humiliated condition, had wept
bitterly. Apparently all was forgiven him. The Idiot
1148 of 1149
Prince S. had made a few just and sensible remarks. It
seemed to Evgenie Pavlovitch that there was not yet
perfect harmony between Adelaida and her fiance, but he
thought that in time the impulsive young girl would let
herself be guided by his reason and experience. Besides,
the recent events that had befallen her family had given
Adelaida much to think about, especially the sad
experiences of her younger sister. Within six months,
everything that the family had dreaded from the marriage
with the Polish count had come to pass. He turned out to
be neither count nor exile—at least, in the political sense
of the word—but had had to leave his native land owing
to some rather dubious affair of the past. It was his noble
patriotism, of which he made a great display, that had
rendered him so interesting in Aglaya’s eyes. She was so
fascinated that, even before marrying him, she joined a
committee that had been organized abroad to work for the
restoration of Poland; and further, she visited the
confessional of a celebrated Jesuit priest, who made an
absolute fanatic of her. The supposed fortune of the count
had dwindled to a mere nothing, although he had given
almost irrefutable evidence of its existence to Lizabetha
Prokofievna and Prince S.
The Idiot
Besides this, before they had been married half a year,
the count and his friend the priest managed to bring about
a quarrel between Aglaya and her family, so that it was
now several months since they had seen her. In a word,
there was a great deal to say; but Mrs. Epanchin, and her
daughters, and even Prince S., were still so much
distressed by Aglaya’s latest infatuations and adventures,
that they did hot care to talk of them, though they must
have known that Evgenie knew much of the story already.
Poor Lizabetha Prokofievna was most anxious to get
home, and, according to Evgenie’s account, she criticized
everything foreign with much hostility.
‘They can’t bake bread anywhere, decently; and they all
freeze in their houses, during winter, like a lot of mice in a
cellar. At all events, I’ve had a good Russian cry over this
poor fellow,’ she added, pointing to the prince, who had
not recognized her in the slightest degree. ‘So enough of
this nonsense; it’s time we faced the truth. All this
continental life, all this Europe of yours, and all the trash
about ‘going abroad’ is simply foolery, and it is mere
foolery on our part to come. Remember what I say, my
friend; you’ll live to agree with me yourself.’
So spoke the good lady, almost angrily, as she took
leave of Evgenie Pavlovitch.
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