that I must also be a relation of yours, most excellent The Idiot
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prince. Never mind about that, it is only a foible; but just
now he assured me that all his life, from the day he was
made an ensign to the 11th of last June, he has entertained
at least two hundred guests at his table every day. Finally,
he went so far as to say that they never rose from the table;
they dined, supped, and had tea, for fifteen hours at a
stretch. This went on for thirty years without a break;
there was barely time to change the table-cloth; directly
one person left, another took his place. On feast-days he
entertained as many as three hundred guests, and they
numbered seven hundred on the thousandth anniversary
of the foundation of the Russian Empire. It amounts to a
passion with him; it makes one uneasy to hear of it. It is
terrible to have to entertain people who do things on such
a scale. That is why I wonder whether such a man is not
too hospitable for you and me.’
‘But you seem to be on the best of terms with him?’
‘Quite fraternal—I look upon it as a joke. Let us be
brothers- in-law, it is all the same to me,—rather an
honour than not. But in spite of the two hundred guests
and the thousandth anniversary of the Russian Empire, I
can see that he is a very remarkable man. I am quite
sincere. You said just now that I always looked as if I was
going to tell you a secret; you are right. I have a secret to The Idiot
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tell you: a certain person has just let me know that she is
very anxious for a secret interview with you.’
‘Why should it be secret? Not at all; I will call on her
myself tomorrow.’
‘No, oh no!’ cried Lebedeff, waving his arms; ‘if she is
afraid, it is not for the reason you think. By the way, do
you know that the monster comes every day to inquire
after your health?’
‘You call him a monster so often that it makes me
suspicious.’
‘You must have no suspicions, none whatever,’ said
Lebedeff quickly. ‘I only want you to know that the
person in question is not afraid of him, but of something
quite, quite different.’
‘What on earth is she afraid of, then? Tell me plainly,
without any more beating about the bush,’ said the prince,
exasperated by the other’s mysterious grimaces.
‘Ah that is the secret,’ said Lebedeff, with a smile.
‘Whose secret?’
‘Yours. You forbade me yourself to mention it before
you, most excellent prince,’ murmured Lebedeff. Then,
satisfied that he had worked up Muishkin’s curiosity to the
highest pitch, he added abruptly: ‘She is afraid of Aglaya
Ivanovna.’ The Idiot
434 of 1149
The prince frowned for a moment in silence, and then
said suddenly:
‘Really, Lebedeff, I must leave your house. Where are
Gavrila Ardalionovitch and the Ptitsins? Are they here?
Have you chased them away, too?’
‘They are coming, they are coming; and the general as
well. I will open all the doors; I will call all my daughters,
all of them, this very minute,’ said Lebedeff in a low voice,
thoroughly frightened, and waving his hands as he ran
from door to door.
At that moment Colia appeared on the terrace; he
announced that Lizabetha Prokofievna and her three
daughters were close behind him.
Moved by this news, Lebedeff hurried up to the prince.
‘Shall I call the Ptitsins, and Gavrila Ardalionovitch?
Shall I let the general in?’ he asked.
‘Why not? Let in anyone who wants to see me. I assure
you, Lebedeff, you have misunderstood my position from
the very first; you have been wrong all along. I have not
the slightest reason to hide myself from anyone,’ replied
the prince gaily.
Seeing him laugh, Lebedeff thought fit to laugh also,
and though much agitated his satisfaction was quite visible. The Idiot
435 of 1149
Colia was right; the Epanchin ladies were only a few
steps behind him. As they approached the terrace other
visitors appeared from Lebedeff’s side of the house-the
Ptitsins, Gania, and Ardalion Alexandrovitch.
The Epanchins had only just heard of the prince’s
illness and of his presence in Pavlofsk, from Colia; and up
to this time had been in a state of considerable
bewilderment about him. The general brought the
prince’s card down from town, and Mrs. Epanchin had felt
convinced that he himself would follow his card at once;
she was much excited.
In vain the girls assured her that a man who had not
written for six months would not be in such a dreadful
hurry, and that probably he had enough to do in town
without needing to bustle down to Pavlofsk to see them.
Their mother was quite angry at the very idea of such a
thing, and announced her absolute conviction that he
would turn up the next day at latest.
So next day the prince was expected all the morning,
and at dinner, tea, and supper; and when he did not
appear in the evening, Mrs. Epanchin quarrelled with
everyone in the house, finding plenty of pretexts without
so much as mentioning the prince’s name. The Idiot
436 of 1149
On the third day there was no talk of him at all, until
Aglaya remarked at dinner: ‘Mamma is cross because the
prince hasn’t turned up,’ to which the general replied that
it was not his fault.
Mrs. Epanchin misunderstood the observation, and
rising from her place she left the room in majestic wrath.
In the evening, however, Colia came with the story of the
prince’s adventures, so far as he knew them. Mrs.
Epanchin was triumphant; although Colia had to listen to
a long lecture. ‘He idles about here the whole day long,
one can’t get rid of him; and then when he is wanted he
does not come. He might have sent a line if he did not
wish to inconvenience himself.’
At the words ‘one can’t get rid of him,’ Colia was very
angry, and nearly flew into a rage; but he resolved to be
quiet for the time and show his resentment later. If the
words had been less offensive he might have forgiven
them, so pleased was he to see Lizabetha Prokofievna
worried and anxious about the prince’s illness.
She would have insisted on sending to Petersburg at
once, for a certain great medical celebrity; but her
daughters dissuaded her, though they were not willing to
stay behind when she at once prepared to go and visit the The Idiot
437 of 1149
invalid. Aglaya, however, suggested that it was a little
unceremonious to go en masse to see him.
‘Very well then, stay at home,’ said Mrs. Epanchin, and
a good thing too, for Evgenie Pavlovitch is coming down
and there will be no one at home to receive him.’
Of course, after this, Aglaya went with the rest. In fact,
she had never had the slightest intention of doing
otherwise.
Prince S., who was in the house, was requested to
escort the ladies. He had been much interested when he
first heard of the prince from the Epanchins. It appeared
that they had known one another before, and had spent
some time together in a little provincial town three
months ago. Prince S. had greatly taken to him, and was
delighted with the opportunity of meeting him again,
The general had not come down from town as yet, nor
had Evgenie Pavlovitch arrived.
It was not more than two or three hundred yards from
the Epanchins’ house to Lebedeff’s. The first disagreeable
impression experienced by Mrs. Epanchin was to find the
prince surrounded by a whole assembly of other guests—
not to mention the fact that some of those present were
particularly detestable in her eyes. The next annoying
circumstance was when an apparently strong and healthy The Idiot
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young fellow, well dressed, and smiling, came forward to
meet her on the terrace, instead of the half-dying
unfortunate whom she had expected to see.
She was astonished and vexed, and her disappointment
pleased Colia immensely. Of course he could have
undeceived her before she started, but the mischievous
boy had been careful not to do that, foreseeing the
probably laughable disgust that she would experience
when she found her dear friend, the prince, in good
health. Colia was indelicate enough to voice the delight he
felt at his success in managing to annoy Lizabetha
Prokofievna, with whom, in spite of their really amicable
relations, he was constantly sparring.
‘Just wait a while, my boy!’ said she; ‘don’t be too
certain of your triumph.’ And she sat down heavily, in the
arm-chair pushed forward by the prince.
Lebedeff, Ptitsin, and General Ivolgin hastened to find
chairs for the young ladies. Varia greeted them joyfully,
and they exchanged confidences in ecstatic whispers.
‘I must admit, prince, I was a little put out to see you
up and about like this—I expected to find you in bed; but
I give you my word, I was only annoyed for an instant,
before I collected my thoughts properly. I am always wiser
on second thoughts, and I dare say you are the same. I The Idiot
439 of 1149
assure you I am as glad to see you well as though you
were my own son,—yes, and more; and if you don’t
believe me the more shame to you, and it’s not my fault.
But that spiteful boy delights in playing all sorts of tricks.
You are his patron, it seems. Well, I warn you that one
fine morning I shall deprive myself of the pleasure of his
further acquaintance.’
‘What have I done wrong now?’ cried Colia. ‘What
was the good of telling you that the prince was nearly well
again? You would not have believed me; it was so much
more interesting to picture him on his death-bed.’
‘How long do you remain here, prince?’ asked
Madame Epanchin.
‘All the summer, and perhaps longer.’
‘You are alone, aren’t you,—not married?’
‘No, I’m not married!’ replied the prince, smiling at the
ingenuousness of this little feeler.
‘Oh, you needn’t laugh! These things do happen, you
know! Now then—why didn’t you come to us? We have
a wing quite empty. But just as you like, of course. Do
you lease it from HIM?—this fellow, I mean,’ she added,
nodding towards Lebedeff. ‘And why does he always
wriggle so?’ The Idiot
440 of 1149
At that moment Vera, carrying the baby in her arms as
usual, came out of the house, on to the terrace. Lebedeff
kept fidgeting among the chairs, and did not seem to
know what to do with himself, though he had no
intention of going away. He no sooner caught sight of his
daughter, than he rushed in her direction, waving his arms
to keep her away; he even forgot himself so far as to stamp
his foot.
‘Is he mad?’ asked Madame Epanchin suddenly.
‘No, he ...’
‘Perhaps he is drunk? Your company is rather peculiar,’
she added, with a glance at the other guests....
‘But what a pretty girl! Who is she?’
‘That is Lebedeff’s daughter—Vera Lukianovna.’
‘Indeed? She looks very sweet. I should like to make
her acquaintance.’
The words were hardly out of her mouth, when
Lebedeff dragged Vera forward, in order to present her.
‘Orphans, poor orphans!’ he began in a pathetic voice.
‘The child she carries is an orphan, too. She is Vera’s
sister, my daughter Luboff. The day this babe was born,
six weeks ago, my wife died, by the will of God Almighty.
... Yes... Vera takes her mother’s place, though she is but
her sister... nothing more ... nothing more...’ The Idiot
441 of 1149
‘And you! You are nothing more than a fool, if you’ll
excuse me! Well! well! you know that yourself, I expect,’
said the lady indignantly.
Lebedeff bowed low. ‘It is the truth,’ he replied, with
extreme respect.
‘Oh, Mr. Lebedeff, I am told you lecture on the
Apocalypse. Is it true?’ asked Aglaya.
‘Yes, that is so ... for the last fifteen years.’
‘I have heard of you, and I think read of you in the
newspapers.’
‘No, that was another commentator, whom the papers
named. He is dead, however, and I have taken his place,’
said the other, much delighted.
‘We are neighbours, so will you be so kind as to come
over one day and explain the Apocalypse to me?’ said
Aglaya. ‘I do not understand it in the least.’
‘Allow me to warn you,’ interposed General Ivolgin,
that he is the greatest charlatan on earth.’ He had taken the
chair next to the girl, and was impatient to begin talking.
‘No doubt there are pleasures and amusements peculiar to
the country,’ he continued, ‘and to listen to a pretended
student holding forth on the book of the Revelations may
be as good as any other. It may even be original. But ...
you seem to be looking at me with some surprise—may I The Idiot
442 of 1149
introduce myself—General Ivolgin—I carried you in my
arms as a baby—‘
‘Delighted, I’m sure,’ said Aglaya; ‘I am acquainted
with Varvara Ardalionovna and Nina Alexandrovna.’ She
was trying hard to restrain herself from laughing.
Mrs. Epanchin flushed up; some accumulation of spleen
in her suddenly needed an outlet. She could not bear this
General Ivolgin whom she had once known, long ago—in
society.
‘You are deviating from the truth, sir, as usual!’ she
remarked, boiling over with indignation; ‘you never
carried her in your life!’
‘You have forgotten, mother,’ said Aglaya, suddenly.
‘He really did carry me about,—in Tver, you know. I was
six years old, I remember. He made me a bow and arrow,
and I shot a pigeon. Don’t you remember shooting a
pigeon, you and I, one day?’
‘Yes, and he made me a cardboard helmet, and a little
wooden sword—I remember!’ said Adelaida.
‘Yes, I remember too!’ said Alexandra. ‘You quarrelled
about the wounded pigeon, and Adelaida was put in the
corner, and stood there with her helmet and sword and
all.’ The Idiot
443 of 1149
The poor general had merely made the remark about
having carried Aglaya in his arms because he always did so
begin a conversation with young people. But it happened
that this time he had really hit upon the truth, though he
