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 The Idiot
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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 Ordintzeff 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. Anfisa
Alexeyevna’s birthday came off just then, too, and there
were two balls arranged. At that time Dumas-fils’ beautiful
work, La Dame aux Camelias—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. Camellias were all the fashion.
Everyone inquired for them, everybody wanted them; and The Idiot
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a grand lot of camellias are to be got in a country town—
as you all know—and two balls to provide for!
‘Poor Peter Volhofskoi was desperately in love with
Anfisa Alexeyevna. 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 camellias. Countess
Sotski and Sophia Bespalova, as everyone knew, were
coming with white camellia bouquets. Anfisa 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 camellias 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’ve 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 camellias.’ ‘And what if he won’t let The Idiot
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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 Ekshaisky inn. I waited there
till dawn, and soon after six I was off, and at the old
merchant Trepalaf’s.
‘‘Camellias!’ I said, ‘father, save me, save me, let me
have some camellias!’ 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 camellias! 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 Idiot
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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
‘cussedness’ 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.’ The Idiot
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Totski ended his tale with the same dignity that had
characterized its commencement.
Nastasia Philipovna’s eyes were flashing in a most
unmistakable way, now; and her lips were all a-quiver by
the time Totski finished his story.
All present watched both of them with curiosity.
‘You were right, Totski,’ 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 Muishkin, ‘here are my old friends, Totski and General
Epanchin, who wish to marry me off. Tell me what you
think. Shall I marry or not? As you decide, so shall it be.’
Totski 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 Ardalionovitch Ivolgin,’ 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. The Idiot
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‘N-no! don’t marry him!’ he whispered at last, drawing
his breath with an effort.
‘So be it, then. Gavrila Ardalionovitch,’ 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 Philipovna!’ cried Totski, in a quaking voice.
‘Nastasia Philipovna!’ 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 Philipovna.’ stammered
Totski, ‘you gave a promise, quite a free one, and—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, Afanasy Ivanovitch; 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 The Idiot
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what’s all that about ‘a game’? I wished 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 roubles —I quite understand you. Mr. Totski, I
forgot to say, ‘Take your seventy-five thousand roubles’—
I don’t want them. I let you go free for nothing take your
freedom! You must need it. Nine years and three months’ The Idiot
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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’ll 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
present 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 Gania’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.’ The Idiot
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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.
‘Rogojin and his hundred thousand roubles, no doubt
of it,’ muttered Ptitsin to himself. The Idiot
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XV
Katia, the maid-servant, made her appearance, terribly
frightened.
‘Goodness knows what it means, ma’am,’ she said.
‘There is a whole collection of men come—all tipsy—and
want to see you. They say that ‘it’s Rogojin, and she
knows all about it.’’
‘It’s all right, Katia, let them all in at once.’
‘Surely not ALL, ma’am? They seem so disorderly—it’s
dreadful to see them.’
‘Yes ALL, Katia, all—every one of them. Let them in,
or they’ll come in whether you like or no. Listen! what a
noise they are making! Perhaps you are offended,
gentlemen, that I should receive such guests in your
presence? I am very sorry, and ask your forgiveness, but it
cannot be helped—and I should be very grateful if you
could all stay and witness this climax. However, just as
you please, of course.’
The guests exchanged glances; they were annoyed and
bewildered by the episode; but it was clear enough that all
this had been pre- arranged and expected by Nastasia The Idiot
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Philipovna, and that there was no use in trying to stop her
now—for she was little short of insane.
Besides, they were naturally inquisitive to see what was
to happen. There was nobody who would be likely to feel
much alarm. There were but two ladies present; one of
whom was the lively actress, who was not easily
frightened, and the other the silent German beauty who, it
turned out, did not understand a word of Russian, and
seemed to be as stupid as she was lovely.
Her acquaintances invited her to their ‘At Homes’
because she was so decorative. She was exhibited to their
guests like a valuable picture, or vase, or statue, or
firescreen. As for the men, Ptitsin was one of Rogojin’s
friends; Ferdishenko was as much at home as a fish in the
sea, Gania, not yet recovered from his amazement,
appeared to be chained to a pillory. The old professor did
not in the least understand what was happening; but when
he noticed how extremely agitated the mistress of the
house, and her friends, seemed, he nearly wept, and
trembled with fright: but he would rather have died than
leave Nastasia Philipovna at such a crisis, for he loved her
as if she were his own granddaughter. Afanasy Ivanovitch
greatly disliked having anything to do with the affair, but
he was too much interested to leave, in spite of the mad The Idiot
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turn things had taken; and a few words that had dropped
from the lips of Nastasia puzzled him so much, that he felt
he could not go without an explanation. He resolved
therefore, to see it out, and to adopt the attitude of silent
spectator, as most suited to his dignity. Genera Epanchin
alone determined to depart. He was annoyed at the
manner in which his gift had been returned, an though he
had condescended, under the influence of passion, to place
himself on a level with Ptitsin and Ferdishenko, his self-
respect and sense of duty now returned together with a
consciousness of what was due to his social rank and
official importance. In short, he plainly showed his
conviction that a man in his position could have nothing
to do with Rogojin and his companions. But Nastasia
