hour—and for whom do you think he prays? Who are the
sinners figuring in his drunken petitions? I have heard him
with my own ears praying for the repose of the soul of the
Countess du Barry! Colia heard it too. He is as mad as a
March hare!’
‘You hear how he slanders me, prince,’ said Lebedeff,
almost beside himself with rage. ‘I may be a drunkard, an
evil-doer, a thief, but at least I can say one thing for
myself. He does not know—how should he, mocker that
he is?—that when he came into the world it was I who
washed him, and dressed him in his swathing-bands, for
my sister Anisia had lost her husband, and was in great
poverty. I was very little better off than she, but I sat up
night after night with her, and nursed both mother and The Idiot
353 of 1149
child; I used to go downstairs and steal wood for them
from the house-porter. How often did I sing him to sleep
when I was half dead with hunger! In short, I was more
than a father to him, and now—now he jeers at me! Even
if I did cross myself, and pray for the repose of the soul of
the Comtesse du Barry, what does it matter? Three days
ago, for the first time in my life, I read her biography in an
historical dictionary. Do you know who she was? You
there!’ addressing his nephew. ‘Speak! do you know?’
‘Of course no one knows anything about her but you,’
muttered the young man in a would-be jeering tone.
‘She was a Countess who rose from shame to reign like
a Queen. An Empress wrote to her, with her own hand, as
‘Ma chere cousine.’ At a lever-du-roi one morning (do
you know what a lever-du-roi was?)—a Cardinal, a Papal
legate, offered to put on her stockings; a high and holy
person like that looked on it as an honour! Did you know
this? I see by your expression that you did not! Well, how
did she die? Answer!’
‘Oh! do stop—you are too absurd!’
‘This is how she died. After all this honour and glory,
after having been almost a Queen, she was guillotined by
that butcher, Samson. She was quite innocent, but it had
to be done, for the satisfaction of the fishwives of Paris. The Idiot
354 of 1149
She was so terrified, that she did not understand what was
happening. But when Samson seized her head, and pushed
her under the knife with his foot, she cried out: ‘Wait a
moment! wait a moment, monsieur!’ Well, because of that
moment of bitter suffering, perhaps the Saviour will
pardon her other faults, for one cannot imagine a greater
agony. As I read the story my heart bled for her. And what
does it matter to you, little worm, if I implored the Divine
mercy for her, great sinner as she was, as I said my evening
prayer? I might have done it because I doubted if anyone
had ever crossed himself for her sake before. It may be that
in the other world she will rejoice to think that a sinner
like herself has cried to heaven for the salvation of her
soul. Why are you laughing? You believe nothing, atheist!
And your story was not even correct! If you had listened
to what I was saying, you would have heard that I did not
only pray for the Comtesse du Barry. I said, ‘Oh Lord!
give rest to the soul of that great sinner, the Comtesse du
Barry, and to all unhappy ones like her.’ You see that is
quite a different thing, for how many sinners there are,
how many women, who have passed through the trials of
this life, are now suffering and groaning in purgatory! I
prayed for you, too, in spite of your insolence and The Idiot
355 of 1149
impudence, also for your fellows, as it seems that you
claim to know how I pray…’
‘Oh! that’s enough in all conscience! Pray for whom
you choose, and the devil take them and you! We have a
scholar here; you did not know that, prince?’ he
continued, with a sneer. ‘He reads all sorts of books and
memoirs now.’
‘At any rate, your uncle has a kind heart,’ remarked the
prince, who really had to force himself to speak to the
nephew, so much did he dislike him.
‘Oh, now you are going to praise him! He will be set
up! He puts his hand on his heart, and he is delighted! I
never said he was a man without heart, but he is a rascal—
that’s the pity of it. And then, he is addicted to drink, and
his mind is unhinged, like that of most people who have
taken more than is good for them for years. He loves his
children—oh, I know that well enough! He respected my
aunt, his late wife ... and he even has a sort of affection for
me. He has remembered me in his will.’
‘I shall leave you nothing!’ exclaimed his uncle angrily.
‘Listen to me, Lebedeff,’ said the prince in a decided
voice, turning his back on the young man. ‘I know by
experience that when you choose, you can be business-
like. . I . I have very little time to spare, and if you ... By The Idiot
356 of 1149
the way—excuse me—what is your Christian name? I
have forgotten it.’
‘Ti-Ti-Timofey.’
‘And?’
‘Lukianovitch.’
Everyone in the room began to laugh.
‘He is telling lies!’ cried the nephew. ‘Even now he
cannot speak the truth. He is not called Timofey
Lukianovitch, prince, but Lukian Timofeyovitch. Now do
tell us why you must needs lie about it? Lukian or
Timofey, it is all the same to you, and what difference can
it make to the prince? He tells lies without the least
necessity, simply by force of habit, I assure you.’
‘Is that true?’ said the prince impatiently.
‘My name really is Lukian Timofeyovitch,’
acknowledged Lebedeff, lowering his eyes, and putting his
hand on his heart.
‘Well, for God’s sake, what made you say the other?’
‘To humble myself,’ murmured Lebedeff.
‘What on earth do you mean? Oh I if only I knew
where Colia was at this moment!’ cried the prince,
standing up, as if to go.
‘I can tell you all about Colia,’ said the young man
‘Oh! no, no!’ said Lebedeff, hurriedly. The Idiot
357 of 1149
‘Colia spent the night here, and this morning went after
his father, whom you let out of prison by paying his
debts—Heaven only knows why! Yesterday the general
promised to come and lodge here, but he did not appear.
Most probably he slept at the hotel close by. No doubt
Colia is there, unless he has gone to Pavlofsk to see the
Epanchins. He had a little money, and was intending to go
there yesterday. He must be either at the hotel or at
Pavlofsk.’
‘At Pavlofsk! He is at Pavlofsk, undoubtedly!’
interrupted Lebedeff…. ‘But come—let us go into the
garden—we will have coffee there….’ And Lebedeff
seized the prince’s arm, and led him from the room. They
went across the yard, and found themselves in a delightful
little garden with the trees already in their summer dress of
green, thanks to the unusually fine weather. Lebedeff
invited his guest to sit down on a green seat before a table
of the same colour fixed in the earth, and took a seat
facing him. In a few minutes the coffee appeared, and the
prince did not refuse it. The host kept his eyes fixed on
Muishkin, with an expression of passionate servility.
‘I knew nothing about your home before,’ said the
prince absently, as if he were thinking of something else. The Idiot
358 of 1149
‘Poor orphans,’ began Lebedeff, his face assuming a
mournful air, but he stopped short, for the other looked at
him inattentively, as if he had already forgotten his own
remark. They waited a few minutes in silence, while
Lebedeff sat with his eyes fixed mournfully on the young
man’s face.
‘Well!’ said the latter, at last rousing himself. ‘Ah! yes!
You know why I came, Lebedeff. Your letter brought me.
Speak! Tell me all about it.’
The clerk, rather confused, tried to say something,
hesitated, began to speak, and again stopped. The prince
looked at him gravely.
‘I think I understand, Lukian Timofeyovitch: you were
not sure that I should come. You did not think I should
start at the first word from you, and you merely wrote to
relieve your conscience. However, you see now that I
have come, and I have had enough of trickery. Give up
serving, or trying to serve, two masters. Rogojin has been
here these three weeks. Have you managed to sell her to
him as you did before? Tell me the truth.’
‘He discovered everything, the monster ... himself ......’
‘Don’t abuse him; though I dare say you have
something to complain of….’ The Idiot
359 of 1149
‘He beat me, he thrashed me unmercifully!’ replied
Lebedeff vehemently. ‘He set a dog on me in Moscow, a
bloodhound, a terrible beast that chased me all down the
street.’
‘You seem to take me for a child, Lebedeff. Tell me, is
it a fact that she left him while they were in Moscow?’
‘Yes, it is a fact, and this time, let me tell you, on the
very eve of their marriage! It was a question of minutes
when she slipped off to Petersburg. She came to me
directly she arrived— ‘Save me, Lukian! find me some
refuge, and say nothing to the prince!’ She is afraid of you,
even more than she is of him, and in that she shows her
wisdom!’ And Lebedeff slily put his finger to his brow as
he said the last words.
‘And now it is you who have brought them together
again?’
‘Excellency, how could I, how could I prevent it?’
‘That will do. I can find out for myself. Only tell me,
where is she now? At his house? With him?’
‘Oh no! Certainly not! ‘I am free,’ she says; you know
how she insists on that point. ‘I am entirely free.’ She
repeats it over and over again. She is living in
Petersburgskaia, with my sister- in-law, as I told you in
my letter.’ The Idiot
360 of 1149
‘She is there at this moment?’
‘Yes, unless she has gone to Pavlofsk: the fine weather
may have tempted her, perhaps, into the country, with
Daria Alexeyevna. ‘I am quite free,’ she says. Only
yesterday she boasted of her freedom to Nicolai
Ardalionovitch—a bad sign,’ added Lebedeff, smiling.
‘Colia goes to see her often, does he not?’
‘He is a strange boy, thoughtless, and inclined to be
indiscreet.’
‘Is it long since you saw her?’
‘I go to see her every day, every day.’
‘Then you were there yesterday?’
‘N-no: I have not been these three last days.’
‘It is a pity you have taken too much wine, Lebedeff I
want to ask you something ... but…’
‘All right! all right! I am not drunk,’ replied the clerk,
preparing to listen.
‘Tell me, how was she when you left her?’
‘She is a woman who is seeking. .. ‘
‘Seeking?’
‘She seems always to be searching about, as if she had
lost something. The mere idea of her coming marriage
disgusts her; she looks on it as an insult. She cares as much
for HIM as for a piece of orange-peel—not more. Yet I The Idiot
361 of 1149
am much mistaken if she does not look on him with fear
and trembling. She forbids his name to be mentioned
before her, and they only meet when unavoidable. He
understands, well enough! But it must be gone through
She is restless, mocking, deceitful, violent....’
‘Deceitful and violent?’
‘Yes, violent. I can give you a proof of it. A few days
ago she tried to pull my hair because I said something that
annoyed her. I tried to soothe her by reading the
Apocalypse aloud.’
‘What?’ exclaimed the prince, thinking he had not
heard aright.
‘By reading the Apocalypse. The lady has a restless
imagination, he-he! She has a liking for conversation on
serious subjects, of any kind; in fact they please her so
much, that it flatters her to discuss them. Now for fifteen
years at least I have studied the Apocalypse, and she agrees
with me in thinking that the present is the epoch
represented by the third horse, the black one whose rider
holds a measure in his hand. It seems to me that
everything is ruled by measure in our century; all men are
clamouring for their rights; ‘a measure of wheat for a
penny, and three measures of barley for a penny.’ But,
added to this, men desire freedom of mind and body, a The Idiot
362 of 1149
pure heart, a healthy life, and all God’s good gifts. Now by
pleading their rights alone, they will never attain all this,
so the white horse, with his rider Death, comes next, and
is followed by Hell. We talked about this matter when we
met, and it impressed her very much.’
‘Do you believe all this?’ asked Muishkin, looking
curiously at his companion.
‘I both believe it and explain it. I am but a poor
creature, a beggar, an atom in the scale of humanity. Who
has the least respect for Lebedeff? He is a target for all the
world, the butt of any fool who chooses to kick him. But
in interpreting revelation I am the equal of anyone, great
as he may be! Such is the power of the mind and the
spirit. I have made a lordly personage tremble, as he sat in
his armchair … only by talking to him of things
concerning the spirit. Two years ago, on Easter Eve, His
Excellency Nil Alexeyovitch, whose subordinate I was
then, wished to hear what I had to say, and sent a message
by Peter Zakkaritch to ask me to go to his private room.
‘They tell me you expound the prophecies relating to
Antichrist,’ said he, when we were alone. ‘Is that so?’ ‘
Yes,’ I answered unhesitatingly, and I began to give some
comments on the Apostle’s allegorical vision. At first he
smiled, but when we reached the numerical computations The Idiot
363 of 1149
and correspondences, he trembled, and turned pale. Then
he begged me to close the book, and sent me away,
promising to put my name on the reward list. That took
place as I said on the eve of Easter, and eight days later his
soul returned to God.’
‘What?’
‘It is the truth. One evening after dinner he stumbled as
he stepped out of his carriage. He fell, and struck his head
on the curb, and died immediately. He was seventy-three
years of age, and had a red face, and white hair; he
deluged himself with scent, and was always smiling like a
