begun for me.’ I made up my mind to be honest, and
steadfast in accomplishing my task. Perhaps I shall meet
with troubles and many disappointments, but I have made The Idiot
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up my mind to be polite and sincere to everyone; more
cannot be asked of me. People may consider me a child if
they like. I am often called an idiot, and at one time I
certainly was so ill that I was nearly as bad as an idiot; but I
am not an idiot now. How can I possibly be so when I
know myself that I am considered one?
‘When I received a letter from those dear little souls,
while passing through Berlin, I only then realized how
much I loved them. It was very, very painful, getting that
first little letter. How melancholy they had been when
they saw me off! For a month before, they had been
talking of my departure and sorrowing over it; and at the
waterfall, of an evening, when we parted for the night,
they would hug me so tight and kiss me so warmly, far
more so than before. And every now and then they would
turn up one by one when I was alone, just to give me a
kiss and a hug, to show their love for me. The whole flock
went with me to the station, which was about a mile from
the village, and every now and then one of them would
stop to throw his arms round me, and all the little girls had
tears in their voices, though they tried hard not to cry. As
the train steamed out of the station, I saw them all
standing on the platform waving to me and crying
‘Hurrah!’ till they were lost in the distance. The Idiot
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‘I assure you, when I came in here just now and saw
your kind faces (I can read faces well) my heart felt light
for the first time since that moment of parting. I think I
must be one of those who are born to be in luck, for one
does not often meet with people whom one feels he can
love from the first sight of their faces; and yet, no sooner
do I step out of the railway carriage than I happen upon
you!
‘I know it is more or less a shamefaced thing to speak
of one’s feelings before others; and yet here am I talking
like this to you, and am not a bit ashamed or shy. I am an
unsociable sort of fellow and shall very likely not come to
see you again for some time; but don’t think the worse of
me for that. It is not that I do not value your society; and
you must never suppose that I have taken offence at
anything.
‘You asked me about your faces, and what I could read
in them; I will tell you with the greatest pleasure. You,
Adelaida Ivanovna, have a very happy face; it is the most
sympathetic of the three. Not to speak of your natural
beauty, one can look at your face and say to one’s self,
‘She has the face of a kind sister.’ You are simple and
merry, but you can see into another’s heart very quickly.
That’s what I read in your face. The Idiot
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‘You too, Alexandra Ivanovna, have a very lovely face;
but I think you may have some secret sorrow. Your heart
is undoubtedly a kind, good one, but you are not merry.
There is a certain suspicion of ‘shadow’ in your face, like
in that of Holbein’s Madonna in Dresden. So much for
your face. Have I guessed right?
‘As for your face, Lizabetha Prokofievna, I not only
think, but am perfectly SURE, that you are an absolute
child—in all, in all, mind, both good and bad-and in spite
of your years. Don’t be angry with me for saying so; you
know what my feelings for children are. And do not
suppose that I am so candid out of pure simplicity of soul.
Oh dear no, it is by no means the case! Perhaps I have my
own very profound object in view.’ The Idiot
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VII
When the prince ceased speaking all were gazing
merrily at him— even Aglaya; but Lizabetha Prokofievna
looked the jolliest of all.
‘Well!’ she cried, ‘we HAVE ‘put him through his
paces,’ with a vengeance! My dears, you imagined, I
believe, that you were about to patronize this young
gentleman, like some poor protege picked up somewhere,
and taken under your magnificent protection. What fools
we were, and what a specially big fool is your father! Well
done, prince! I assure you the general actually asked me to
put you through your paces, and examine you. As to what
you said about my face, you are absolutely correct in your
judgment. I am a child, and know it. I knew it long before
you said so; you have expressed my own thoughts. I think
your nature and mine must be extremely alike, and I am
very glad of it. We are like two drops of water, only you
are a man and I a woman, and I’ve not been to
Switzerland, and that is all the difference between us.’
‘Don’t be in a hurry, mother; the prince says that he
has some motive behind his simplicity,’ cried Aglaya.
‘Yes, yes, so he does,’ laughed the others. The Idiot
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‘Oh, don’t you begin bantering him,’ said mamma. ‘He
is probably a good deal cleverer than all three of you girls
put together. We shall see. Only you haven’t told us
anything about Aglaya yet, prince; and Aglaya and I are
both waiting to hear.’
‘I cannot say anything at present. I’ll tell you
afterwards.’
‘Why? Her face is clear enough, isn’t it?’
‘Oh yes, of course. You are very beautiful, Aglaya
Ivanovna, so beautiful that one is afraid to look at you.’
‘Is that all? What about her character?’ persisted Mrs.
Epanchin.
‘It is difficult to judge when such beauty is concerned. I
have not prepared my judgment. Beauty is a riddle.’
‘That means that you have set Aglaya a riddle!’ said
Adelaida. ‘Guess it, Aglaya! But she’s pretty, prince, isn’t
she?’
‘Most wonderfully so,’ said the latter, warmly, gazing at
Aglaya with admiration. ‘Almost as lovely as Nastasia
Philipovna, but quite a different type.’
All present exchanged looks of surprise.
‘As lovely as WHO?’ said Mrs. Epanchin. ‘As
NASTASIA PHILIPOVNA? Where have you seen
Nastasia Philipovna? What Nastasia Philipovna?’ The Idiot
141 of 1149
‘Gavrila Ardalionovitch showed the general her portrait
just now.’
‘How so? Did he bring the portrait for my husband?’
‘Only to show it. Nastasia Philipovna gave it to Gavrila
Ardalionovitch today, and the latter brought it here to
show to the general.’
‘I must see it!’ cried Mrs. Epanchin. ‘Where is the
portrait? If she gave it to him, he must have it; and he is
still in the study. He never leaves before four o’clock on
Wednesdays. Send for Gavrila Ardalionovitch at once. No,
I don’t long to see HIM so much. Look here, dear prince,
BE so kind, will you? Just step to the study and fetch this
portrait! Say we want to look at it. Please do this for me,
will you?’
‘He is a nice fellow, but a little too simple,’ said
Adelaida, as the prince left the room.
‘He is, indeed,’ said Alexandra; ‘almost laughably so at
times.’
Neither one nor the other seemed to give expression to
her full thoughts.
‘He got out of it very neatly about our faces, though,’
said Aglaya. He flattered us all round, even mamma.’
‘Nonsense’ cried the latter. ‘He did not flatter me. It
was I who found his appreciation flattering. I think you The Idiot
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are a great deal more foolish than he is. He is simple, of
course, but also very knowing. Just like myself.’
‘How stupid of me to speak of the portrait,’ thought
the prince as he entered the study, with a feeling of guilt at
his heart, ‘and yet, perhaps I was right after all.’ He had an
idea, unformed as yet, but a strange idea.
Gavrila Ardalionovitch was still sitting in the study,
buried in a mass of papers. He looked as though he did
not take his salary from the public company, whose
servant he was, for a sinecure.
He grew very wroth and confused when the prince
asked for the portrait, and explained how it came about
that he had spoken of it.
‘Oh, curse it all,’ he said; ‘what on earth must you go
blabbing for? You know nothing about the thing, and
yet—idiot!’ he added, muttering the last word to himself
in irrepressible rage.
‘I am very sorry; I was not thinking at the time. I
merely said that Aglaya was almost as beautiful as Nastasia
Philipovna.’
Gania asked for further details; and the prince once
more repeated the conversation. Gania looked at him with
ironical contempt the while. The Idiot
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‘Nastasia Philipovna,’ he began, and there paused; he
was clearly much agitated and annoyed. The prince
reminded him of the portrait.
‘Listen, prince,’ said Gania, as though an idea had just
struck him, ‘I wish to ask you a great favour, and yet I
really don’t know—‘
He paused again, he was trying to make up his mind to
something, and was turning the matter over. The prince
waited quietly. Once more Gania fixed him with intent
and questioning eyes.
‘Prince,’ he began again, ‘they are rather angry with
me, in there, owing to a circumstance which I need not
explain, so that I do not care to go in at present without
an invitation. I particularly wish to speak to Aglaya, but I
have written a few words in case I shall not have the
chance of seeing her’ (here the prince observed a small
note in his hand), ‘and I do not know how to get my
communication to her. Don’t you think you could
undertake to give it to her at once, but only to her, mind,
and so that no one else should see you give it? It isn’t
much of a secret, but still—Well, will you do it?’
‘I don’t quite like it,’ replied the prince.
‘Oh, but it is absolutely necessary for me,’ Gania
entreated. ‘Believe me, if it were not so, I would not ask The Idiot
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you; how else am I to get it to her? It is most important,
dreadfully important!’
Gania was evidently much alarmed at the idea that the
prince would not consent to take his note, and he looked
at him now with an expression of absolute entreaty.
‘Well, I will take it then.’
‘But mind, nobody is to see!’ cried the delighted Gania
‘And of course I may rely on your word of honour, eh?’
‘I won’t show it to anyone,’ said the prince.
‘The letter is not sealed—’ continued Gania, and
paused in confusion.
‘Oh, I won’t read it,’ said the prince, quite simply.
He took up the portrait, and went out of the room.
Gania, left alone, clutched his head with his hands.
‘One word from her,’ he said, ‘one word from her, and
I may yet be free.’
He could not settle himself to his papers again, for
agitation and excitement, but began walking up and down
the room from corner to corner.
The prince walked along, musing. He did not like his
commission, and disliked the idea of Gania sending a note
to Aglaya at all; but when he was two rooms distant from
the drawing-room, where they all were, he stopped a The Idiot
145 of 1149
though recalling something; went to the window, nearer
the light, and began to examine the portrait in his hand.
He longed to solve the mystery of something in the
face Nastasia Philipovna, something which had struck him
as he looked at the portrait for the first time; the
impression had not left him. It was partly the fact of her
marvellous beauty that struck him, and partly something
else. There was a suggestion of immense pride and disdain
in the face almost of hatred, and at the same time
something confiding and very full of simplicity. The
contrast aroused a deep sympathy in his heart as he looked
at the lovely face. The blinding loveliness of it was almost
intolerable, this pale thin face with its flaming eyes; it was
a strange beauty.
The prince gazed at it for a minute or two, then
glanced around him, and hurriedly raised the portrait to
his lips. When, a minute after, he reached the drawing-
room door, his face was quite composed. But just as he
reached the door he met Aglaya coming out alone.
‘Gavrila Ardalionovitch begged me to give you this,’ he
said, handing her the note.
Aglaya stopped, took the letter, and gazed strangely
into the prince’s eyes. There was no confusion in her face;
a little surprise, perhaps, but that was all. By her look she The Idiot
146 of 1149
seemed merely to challenge the prince to an explanation as
to how he and Gania happened to be connected in this
matter. But her expression was perfectly cool and quiet,
and even condescending.
So they stood for a moment or two, confronting one
another. At length a faint smile passed over her face, and
she passed by him without a word.
Mrs. Epanchin examined the portrait of Nastasia
Philipovna for some little while, holding it critically at
arm’s length.
‘Yes, she is pretty,’ she said at last, ‘even very pretty. I
have seen her twice, but only at a distance. So you admire
this kind of beauty, do you?’ she asked the prince,
suddenly.
‘Yes, I do—this kind.’
‘Do you mean especially this kind?’
‘Yes, especially this kind.’
‘Why?’
‘There is much suffering in this face,’ murmured the
prince, more as though talking to himself than answering
the question.
‘I think you are wandering a little, prince,’ Mrs.
Epanchin decided, after a lengthened survey of his face;
and she tossed the portrait on to the table, haughtily. The Idiot
147 of 1149
Alexandra took it, and Adelaida came up, and both the
girls examined the photograph. Just then Aglaya entered
the room.
‘What a power!’ cried Adelaida suddenly, as she
earnestly examined the portrait over her sister’s shoulder.
‘Whom? What power?’ asked her mother, crossly.
‘Such beauty is real power,’ said Adelaida. ‘With such
beauty as that one might overthrow the world.’ She
returned to her easel thoughtfully.
Aglaya merely glanced at the portrait—frowned, and
put out her underlip; then went and sat down on the sofa
with folded hands. Mrs. Epanchin rang the bell.
‘Ask Gavrila Ardalionovitch to step this way,’ said she
