shouted Burdovsky furiously, ‘that I did not want the
money. I will not take it... why...I will not... I am going
away!’
He was rushing hurriedly from the terrace, when
Lebedeff’s nephew seized his arms, and said something to
him in a low voice. Burdovsky turned quickly, and
drawing an addressed but unsealed envelope from his
pocket, he threw it down on a little table beside the
prince.
‘There’s the money!... How dare you?...The money!’
‘Those are the two hundred and fifty roubles you dared
to send him as a charity, by the hands of Tchebaroff,’
explained Doktorenko.
‘The article in the newspaper put it at fifty!’ cried
Colia. The Idiot
511 of 1149
‘I beg your pardon,’ said the prince, going up to
Burdovsky. ‘I have done you a great wrong, but I did not
send you that money as a charity, believe me. And now I
am again to blame. I offended you just now.’ (The prince
was much distressed; he seemed worn out with fatigue,
and spoke almost incoherently.) ‘I spoke of swindling...
but I did not apply that to you. I was deceived .... I said
you were... afflicted... like me... But you are not like me...
you give lessons... you support your mother. I said you
had dishonoured your mother, but you love her. She says
so herself... I did not know... Gavrila Ardalionovitch did
not tell me that... Forgive me! I dared to offer you ten
thousand roubles, but I was wrong. I ought to have done
it differently, and now... there is no way of doing it, for
you despise me...’
‘I declare, this is a lunatic asylum!’ cried Lizabetha
Prokofievna.
‘Of course it is a lunatic asylum!’ repeated Aglaya
sharply, but her words were overpowered by other voices.
Everybody was talking loudly, making remarks and
comments; some discussed the affair gravely, others
laughed. Ivan Fedorovitch Epanchin was extremely
indignant. He stood waiting for his wife with an air of The Idiot
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offended dignity. Lebedeff’s nephew took up the word
again.
‘Well, prince, to do you justice, you certainly know
how to make the most of your—let us call it infirmity, for
the sake of politeness; you have set about offering your
money and friendship in such a way that no self-respecting
man could possibly accept them. This is an excess of
ingenuousness or of malice—you ought to know better
than anyone which word best fits the case.’
‘Allow me, gentlemen,’ said Gavrila Ardalionovitch,
who had just examined the contents of the envelope,
‘there are only a hundred roubles here, not two hundred
and fifty. I point this out, prince, to prevent
misunderstanding.’
‘Never mind, never mind,’ said the prince, signing to
him to keep quiet.
‘But we do mind,’ said Lebedeff’s nephew vehemently.
‘Prince, your ‘never mind’ is an insult to us. We have
nothing to hide; our actions can bear daylight. It is true
that there are only a hundred roubles instead of two
hundred and fifty, but it is all the same.’
‘Why, no, it is hardly the same,’ remarked Gavrila
Ardalionovitch, with an air of ingenuous surprise. The Idiot
513 of 1149
‘Don’t interrupt, we are not such fools as you think,
Mr. Lawyer,’ cried Lebedeff’s nephew angrily. ‘Of course
there is a difference between a hundred roubles and two
hundred and fifty, but in this case the principle is the main
point, and that a hundred and fifty roubles are missing is
only a side issue. The point to be emphasized is that
Burdovsky will not accept your highness’s charity; he
flings it back in your face, and it scarcely matters if there
are a hundred roubles or two hundred and fifty.
Burdovsky has refused ten thousand roubles; you heard
him. He would not have returned even a hundred roubles
if he was dishonest! The hundred and fifty roubles were
paid to Tchebaroff for his travelling expenses. You may
jeer at our stupidity and at our inexperience in business
matters; you have done all you could already to make us
look ridiculous; but do not dare to call us dishonest. The
four of us will club together every day to repay the
hundred and fifty roubles to the prince, if we have to pay
it in instalments of a rouble at a time, but we will repay it,
with interest. Burdovsky is poor, he has no millions. After
his journey to see the prince Tchebaroff sent in his bill.
We counted on winning... Who would not have done the
same in such a case?’
‘Who indeed?’ exclaimed Prince S. The Idiot
514 of 1149
‘I shall certainly go mad, if I stay here!’ cried Lizabetha
Prokofievna.
‘It reminds me,’ said Evgenie Pavlovitch, laughing, ‘of
the famous plea of a certain lawyer who lately defended a
man for murdering six people in order to rob them. He
excused his client on the score of poverty. ‘It is quite
natural,’ he said in conclusion, ‘considering the state of
misery he was in, that he should have thought of
murdering these six people; which of you, gentlemen,
would not have done the same in his place?’’
‘Enough,’ cried Lizabetha Prokofievna abruptly,
trembling with anger, ‘we have had enough of this
balderdash!’
In a state of terrible excitement she threw back her
head, with flaming eyes, casting looks of contempt and
defiance upon the whole company, in which she could no
longer distinguish friend from foe. She had restrained
herself so long that she felt forced to vent her rage on
somebody. Those who knew Lizabetha Prokofievna saw at
once how it was with her. ‘She flies into these rages
sometimes,’ said Ivan Fedorovitch to Prince S. the next
day, ‘but she is not often so violent as she was yesterday; it
does not happen more than once in three years.’ The Idiot
515 of 1149
‘Be quiet, Ivan Fedorovitch! Leave me alone!’ cried
Mrs. Epanchin. ‘Why do you offer me your arm now?
You had not sense enough to take me away before. You
are my husband, you are a father, it was your duty to drag
me away by force, if in my folly I refused to obey you and
go quietly. You might at least have thought of your
daughters. We can find our way out now without your
help. Here is shame enough for a year! Wait a moment
‘till I thank the prince! Thank you, prince, for the
entertainment you have given us! It was most amusing to
hear these young men... It is vile, vile! A chaos, a scandal,
worse than a nightmare! Is it possible that there can be
many such people on earth? Be quiet, Aglaya! Be quiet,
Alexandra! It is none of your business! Don’t fuss round
me like that, Evgenie Pavlovitch; you exasperate me! So,
my dear,’ she cried, addressing the prince, ‘you go so far as
to beg their pardon! He says, ‘Forgive me for offering you
a fortune.’ And you, you mountebank, what are you
laughing at?’ she cried, turning suddenly on Lebedeff’s
nephew. ‘‘We refuse ten thousand roubles; we do not
beseech, we demand!’ As if he did not know that this idiot
will call on them tomorrow to renew his offers of money
and friendship. You will, won’t you? You will? Come,
will you, or won’t you?’ The Idiot
516 of 1149
‘I shall,’ said the prince, with gentle humility.
‘You hear him! You count upon it, too,’ she
continued, turning upon Doktorenko. ‘You are as sure of
him now as if you had the money in your pocket. And
there you are playing the swaggerer to throw dust in our
eyes! No, my dear sir, you may take other people in! I can
see through all your airs and graces, I see your game!’
‘Lizabetha Prokofievna!’ exclaimed the prince.
‘Come, Lizabetha Prokofievna, it is quite time for us to
be going, we will take the prince with us,’ said Prince S.
with a smile, in the coolest possible way.
The girls stood apart, almost frightened; their father was
positively horrified. Mrs. Epanchin’s language astonished
everybody. Some who stood a little way off smiled
furtively, and talked in whispers. Lebedeff wore an
expression of utmost ecstasy.
‘Chaos and scandal are to be found everywhere,
madame,’ remarked Doktorenko, who was considerably
put out of countenance.
‘Not like this! Nothing like the spectacle you have just
given us, sir,’ answered Lizabetha Prokofievna, with a sort
of hysterical rage. ‘Leave me alone, will you?’ she cried
violently to those around her, who were trying to keep
her quiet. ‘No, Evgenie Pavlovitch, if, as you said yourself The Idiot
517 of 1149
just now, a lawyer said in open court that he found it
quite natural that a man should murder six people because
he was in misery, the world must be coming to an end. I
had not heard of it before. Now I understand everything.
And this stutterer, won’t he turn out a murderer?’ she
cried, pointing to Burdovsky, who was staring at her with
stupefaction. ‘I bet he will! He will have none of your
money, possibly, he will refuse it because his conscience
will not allow him to accept it, but he will go murdering
you by night and walking off with your cashbox, with a
clear conscience! He does not call it a dishonest action but
‘the impulse of a noble despair’; ‘a negation’; or the devil
knows what! Bah! everything is upside down, everyone
walks head downwards. A young girl, brought up at
home, suddenly jumps into a cab in the middle of the
street, saying: ‘Good-bye, mother, I married Karlitch, or
Ivanitch, the other day!’ And you think it quite right? You
call such conduct estimable and natural? The ‘woman
question’? Look here,’ she continued, pointing to Colia,
‘the other day that whippersnapper told me that this was
the whole meaning of the ‘woman question.’ But even
supposing that your mother is a fool, you are none the
less, bound to treat her with humanity. Why did you
come here tonight so insolently? ‘Give us our rights, but The Idiot
518 of 1149
don’t dare to speak in our presence. Show us every mark
of deepest respect, while we treat you like the scum of the
earth.’ The miscreants have written a tissue of calumny in
their article, and these are the men who seek for truth, and
do battle for the right! ‘We do not beseech, we demand,
you will get no thanks from us, because you will be acting
to satisfy your own conscience!’ What morality! But,
good. heavens! if you declare that the prince’s generosity
will, excite no gratitude in you, he might answer that he is
not, bound to be grateful to Pavlicheff, who also was only
satisfying his own conscience. But you counted on the
prince’s, gratitude towards Pavlicheff; you never lent him
any money; he owes you nothing; then what were you
counting upon if not on his gratitude? And if you appeal
to that sentiment in others, why should you expect to be
exempted from it? They are mad! They say society is
savage and. inhuman because it despises a young girl who
has been seduced. But if you call society inhuman you
imply that the young girl is made to suffer by its censure.
How then, can you hold her up to the scorn of society in
the newspapers without realizing that you are making her
suffering, still greater? Madmen! Vain fools! They don’t
believe in God, they don’t believe in Christ! But you are
so eaten. up by pride and vanity, that you will end by The Idiot
519 of 1149
devouring each other—that is my prophecy! Is not this
absurd? Is it not monstrous chaos? And after all this, that
shameless creature will go and beg their pardon! Are there
many people like you? What are you smiling at? Because I
am not ashamed to disgrace myself before you?—Yes, I
am disgraced—it can’t be helped now! But don’t you jeer
at me, you scum!’ (this was aimed at Hippolyte). ‘He is
almost at his last gasp, yet he corrupts others. You, have
got hold of this lad ‘—(she pointed to Colia); ‘you, have
turned his head, you have taught him to be an atheist, you
don’t believe in God, and you are not too old to be
whipped, sir! A plague upon you! And so, Prince Lef
Nicolaievitch, you will call on them tomorrow, will you?’
she asked the prince breathlessly, for the second time.
‘Yes.’
‘Then I will never speak to you again.’ She made a
sudden movement to go, and then turned quickly back.
‘And you will call on that atheist?’ she continued, pointing
to Hippolyte. ‘How dare you grin at me like that?’ she
shouted furiously, rushing at the invalid, whose mocking
smile drove her to distraction.
Exclamations arose on all sides.
‘Lizabetha Prokofievna! Lizabetha Prokofievna!
Lizabetha Prokofievna!’ The Idiot
520 of 1149
‘Mother, this is disgraceful!’ cried Aglaya.
Mrs. Epanchin had approached Hippolyte and seized
him firmly by the arm, while her eyes, blazing with fury,
were fixed upon his face.
‘Do not distress yourself, Aglaya Ivanovitch,’ he
answered calmly; ‘your mother knows that one cannot
strike a dying man. I am ready to explain why I was
laughing. I shall be delighted if you will let me—‘
A violent fit of coughing, which lasted a full minute,
prevented him from finishing his sentence.
‘He is dying, yet he will not stop holding forth!’ cried
Lizabetha Prokofievna. She loosed her hold on his arm,
almost terrified, as she saw him wiping the blood from his
lips. ‘Why do you talk? You ought to go home to bed.’
‘So I will,’ he whispered hoarsely. ‘As soon as I get
home I will go to bed at once; and I know I shall be dead
in a fortnight; Botkine told me so himself last week. That
is why I should like to say a few farewell words, if you will
let me.’
‘But you must be mad! It is ridiculous! You should take
care of yourself; what is the use of holding a conversation
now? Go home to bed, do!’ cried Mrs. Epanchin in
horror. The Idiot
521 of 1149
‘When I do go to bed I shall never get up again,’ said
Hippolyte, with a smile. ‘I meant to take to my bed
yesterday and stay there till I died, but as my legs can still
carry me, I put it off for two days, so as to come here with
them to-day—but I am very tired.’
