and up to nine o’clock, Rogojin having declared that he
must absolutely have a hundred thousand roubles by the
evening. He added that Rogojin 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. The Idiot
252 of 1149
All this news was received by the company with
somewhat gloomy interest. Nastasia was silent, and would
not say what she thought about it. Gania 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. Ferdishenko 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 The Idiot
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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 Epanchin, ‘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.
‘H’m! Prince Muishkin 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 The Idiot
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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 Petrovitch Ptitsin says. (Of course
he never does so himself.) Excellency, no doubt you
recollect Kryloff’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 Kryloff’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
Fedorovitch, with ill-concealed irritation. The Idiot
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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 Afanasy
Ivanovitch? There is one explanation, only one. I am
given the position because it is so entirely inconceivable!’
But these vulgarities seemed to please Nastasia
Philipovna, 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 Totski, who disliked him extremely. Gania
also was often made the butt of the jester’s sarcasms, who
used this method of keeping in Nastasia Philipovna’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 Nastasia Philipovna dryly. The Idiot
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‘A-ah! if he is to be under special patronage, I
withdraw my claws.’
But Nastasia Philipovna 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.
Nastasia 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—‘ The Idiot
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‘Don’t apologize,’ said Nastasia, 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.’
‘H’m! Well, you may be a good reader of riddles but
you are wrong THERE, at all events. I’ll remind you of
this, tonight.’
Nastasia introduced the prince to her guests, to most of
whom he was already known.
Totski immediately made some amiable remark. Al
seemed to brighten up at once, and the conversation
became general. Nastasia made the prince sit down next to
herself.
‘Dear me, there’s nothing so very curious about the
prince dropping in, after all,’ remarked Ferdishenko.
‘It’s quite a clear case,’ said the hitherto silent Gania. I
have watched the prince almost all day, ever since the
moment when he first saw Nastasia Philipovna’s portrait,
at General Epanchin’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.’ The Idiot
258 of 1149
Gania 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 Ferdishenko,
and there was general laughter.
‘Oh prince, prince! I never should have thought it of
you;’ said General Epanchin. ‘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. The Idiot
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‘Gentlemen, wouldn’t you like a little champagne
now?’ she asked. ‘I have it all ready; 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 excepting 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 certainly had The Idiot
260 of 1149
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
Totski 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 Totski 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. The Idiot
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‘That’s the beauty of it, general!’
‘It’s a funny notion,’ said Totski, ‘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 The Idiot
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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 Ferdishenko 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—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 Ferdishenko.
‘But I really 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 Ferdishenko here grew quite enthusiastic, ‘only think
with what eyes we shall observe one another tomorrow,
