Ivan Fedorovitch turned from the boxer with a gesture
of despair.
‘I shall be delighted if he will stay; it would certainly be
difficult for him to get back to Petersburg,’ said the prince,
in answer to the eager questions of Lizabetha Prokofievna.
‘But you are half asleep, are you not? If you don’t want
him, I will take him back to my house! Why, good
gracious! He can hardly stand up himself! What is it? Are
you ill?’ The Idiot
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Not finding the prince on his death-bed, Lizabetha
Prokofievna had been misled by his appearance to think
him much better than he was. But his recent illness, the
painful memories attached to it, the fatigue of this
evening, the incident with ‘Pavlicheff’s son,’ and now this
scene with Hippolyte, had all so worked on his
oversensitive nature that he was now almost in a fever.
Moreover, anew trouble, almost a fear, showed itself in his
eyes; he watched Hippolyte anxiously as if expecting
something further.
Suddenly Hippolyte arose. His face, shockingly pale,
was that of a man overwhelmed with shame and despair.
This was shown chiefly in the look of fear and hatred
which he cast upon the assembled company, and in the
wild smile upon his trembling lips. Then he cast down his
eyes, and with the same smile, staggered towards
Burdovsky and Doktorenko, who stood at the entrance to
the verandah. He had decided to go with them.
‘There! that is what I feared!’ cried the prince. ‘It was
inevitable!’
Hippolyte turned upon him, a prey to maniacal rage,
which set all the muscles of his face quivering.
‘Ah! that is what you feared! It was inevitable, you say!
Well, let me tell you that if I hate anyone here—I hate The Idiot
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you all,’ he cried, in a hoarse, strained voice-’ but you,
you, with your jesuitical soul, your soul of sickly
sweetness, idiot, beneficent millionaire—I hate you worse
than anything or anyone on earth! I saw through you and
hated you long ago; from the day I first heard of you. I
hated you with my whole heart. You have contrived all
this! You have driven me into this state! You have made a
dying man disgrace himself. You, you, you are the cause
of my abject cowardice! I would kill you if I remained
alive! I do not want your benefits; I will accept none from
anyone; do you hear? Not from any one! I want nothing!
I was delirious, do not dare to triumph! I curse every one
of you, once for all!’
Breath failed him here, and he was obliged to stop.
‘He is ashamed of his tears!’ whispered Lebedeff to
Lizabetha Prokofievna. ‘It was inevitable. Ah! what a
wonderful man the prince is! He read his very soul.’
But Mrs. Epanchin would not deign to look at
Lebedeff. Drawn up haughtily, with her head held high,
she gazed at the ‘riff-raff,’ with scornful curiosity. When
Hippolyte had finished, Ivan Fedorovitch shrugged his
shoulders, and his wife looked him angrily up and down,
as if to demand the meaning of his movement. Then she
turned to the prince. The Idiot
546 of 1149
‘Thanks, prince, many thanks, eccentric friend of the
family, for the pleasant evening you have provided for us.
I am sure you are quite pleased that you have managed to
mix us up with your extraordinary affairs. It is quite
enough, dear family friend; thank you for giving us an
opportunity of getting to know you so well.’
She arranged her cloak with hands that trembled with
anger as she waited for the ‘riff-raff ‘to go. The cab which
Lebedeff’s son had gone to fetch a quarter of an hour ago,
by Doktorenko’s order, arrived at that moment. The
general thought fit to put in a word after his wife.
‘Really, prince, I hardly expected after—after all our
friendly intercourse— and you see, Lizabetha
Prokofievna—‘
‘Papa, how can you?’ cried Adelaida, walking quickly
up to the prince and holding out her hand.
He smiled absently at her; then suddenly he felt a
burning sensation in his ear as an angry voice whispered:
‘If you do not turn those dreadful people out of the
house this very instant, I shall hate you all my life—all my
life!’ It was Aglaya. She seemed almost in a frenzy, but she
turned away before the prince could look at her.
However, there was no one left to turn out of the house, The Idiot
547 of 1149
‘What I expected has happened! But I am sorry, you
poor fellow, that you should have had to suffer for it,’ he
murmured, with a most charming smile.
for they had managed meanwhile to get Hippolyte into
the cab, and it had driven off.
‘Well, how much longer is this going to last, Ivan
Fedorovitch? What do you think? Shall I soon be
delivered from these odious youths?’
‘My dear, I am quite ready; naturally ... the prince.’
Ivan Fedorovitch held out his hand to Muishkin, but
ran after his wife, who was leaving with every sign of
violent indignation, before he had time to shake it.
Adelaida, her fiance, and Alexandra, said good-bye to their
host with sincere friendliness. Evgenie Pavlovitch did the
same, and he alone seemed in good spirits.
Aglaya left without saying good-bye. But the evening
was not to end without a last adventure. An unexpected
meeting was yet in store for Lizabetha Prokofievna.
She had scarcely descended the terrace steps leading to
the high road that skirts the park at Pavlofsk, when
suddenly there dashed by a smart open carriage, drawn by
a pair of beautiful white horses. Having passed some ten
yards beyond the house, the carriage suddenly drew up,
and one of the two ladies seated in it turned sharp round The Idiot
548 of 1149
as though she had just caught sight of some acquaintance
whom she particularly wished to see.
‘Evgenie Pavlovitch! Is that you?’ cried a clear, sweet
voice, which caused the prince, and perhaps someone else,
to tremble. ‘Well, I AM glad I’ve found you at last! I’ve
sent to town for you twice today myself! My messengers
have been searching for you everywhere!’
Evgenie Pavlovitch stood on the steps like one struck
by lightning. Mrs. Epanchin stood still too, but not with
the petrified expression of Evgenie. She gazed haughtily at
the audacious person who had addressed her companion,
and then turned a look of astonishment upon Evgenie
himself.
‘There’s news!’ continued the clear voice. ‘You need
not be anxious about Kupferof’s IOU’s—Rogojin has
bought them up. I persuaded him to!—I dare say we shall
settle Biscup too, so it’s all right, you see! Au revoir,
tomorrow! And don’t worry!’ The carriage moved on, and
disappeared.
‘The woman’s mad!’ cried Evgenie, at last, crimson
with anger, and looking confusedly around. ‘I don’t know
what she’s talking about! What IOU’s? Who is she?’ Mrs.
Epanchin continued to watch his face for a couple of The Idiot
549 of 1149
seconds; then she marched briskly and haughtily away
towards her own house, the rest following her.
A minute afterwards, Evgenie Pavlovitch reappeared on
the terrace, in great agitation.
‘Prince,’ he said, ‘tell me the truth; do you know what
all this means?’
‘I know nothing whatever about it!’ replied the latter,
who was, himself, in a state of nervous excitement.
‘No?’
‘No?
‘Well, nor do I!’ said Evgenie Pavlovitch, laughing
suddenly. ‘I haven’t the slightest knowledge of any such
IOU’s as she mentioned, I swear I haven’t—What’s the
matter, are you fainting?’
‘Oh, no-no-I’m all right, I assure you!’ The Idiot
550 of 1149
XI
THE anger of the Epanchin family was unappeased for
three days. As usual the prince reproached himself, and
had expected punishment, but he was inwardly convinced
that Lizabetha Prokofievna could not be seriously angry
with him, and that she probably was more angry with
herself. He was painfully surprised, therefore, when three
days passed with no word from her. Other things also
troubled and perplexed him, and one of these grew more
important in his eyes as the days went by. He had begun
to blame himself for two opposite tendencies—on the one
hand to extreme, almost ‘senseless,’ confidence in his
fellows, on the other to a ‘vile, gloomy suspiciousness.’
By the end of the third day the incident of the
eccentric lady and Evgenie Pavlovitch had attained
enormous and mysterious proportions in his mind. He
sorrowfully asked himself whether he had been the cause
of this new ‘monstrosity,’ or was it ... but he refrained
from saying who else might be in fault. As for the letters
N.P.B., he looked on that as a harmless joke, a mere
childish piece of mischief—so childish that he felt it would The Idiot
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be shameful, almost dishonourable, to attach any
importance to it.
The day after these scandalous events, however, the
prince had the honour of receiving a visit from Adelaida
and her fiance, Prince S. They came, ostensibly, to inquire
after his health. They had wandered out for a walk, and
called in ‘by accident,’ and talked for almost the whole of
the time they were with him about a certain most lovely
tree in the park, which Adelaida had set her heart upon for
a picture. This, and a little amiable conversation on Prince
S.’s part, occupied the time, and not a word was said
about last evening’s episodes. At length Adelaida burst out
laughing, apologized, and explained that they had come
incognito; from which, and from the circumstance that
they said nothing about the prince’s either walking back
with them or coming to see them later on, the latter
inferred that he was in Mrs. Epanchin’s black books.
Adelaida mentioned a watercolour that she would much
like to show him, and explained that she would either
send it by Colia, or bring it herself the next day— which
to the prince seemed very suggestive.
At length, however, just as the visitors were on the
point of departing, Prince S. seemed suddenly to recollect
himself. ‘Oh yes, by-the-by,’ he said, ‘do you happen to The Idiot
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know, my dear Lef Nicolaievitch, who that lady was who
called out to Evgenie Pavlovitch last night, from the
carriage?’
‘It was Nastasia Philipovna,’ said the prince; ‘didn’t you
know that? I cannot tell you who her companion was.’
‘But what on earth did she mean? I assure you it is a
real riddle to me—to me, and to others, too!’ Prince S.
seemed to be under the influence of sincere astonishment.
‘She spoke of some bills of Evgenie Pavlovitch’s,’ said
the prince, simply, ‘which Rogojin had bought up from
someone; and implied that Rogojin would not press him.’
‘Oh, I heard that much, my dear fellow! But the thing
is so impossibly absurd! A man of property like Evgenie to
give IOU’s to a money-lender, and to be worried about
them! It is ridiculous. Besides, he cannot possibly be on
such intimate terms with Nastasia Philipovna as she gave
us to understand; that’s the principal part of the mystery!
He has given me his word that he knows nothing
whatever about the matter, and of course I believe him.
Well, the question is, my dear prince, do you know
anything about it? Has any sort of suspicion of the
meaning of it come across you?’
‘No, I know nothing whatever about it. I assure you I
had nothing at all to do with it.’ The Idiot
553 of 1149
‘Oh, prince, how strange you have become! I assure
you, I hardly know you for your old self. How can you
suppose that I ever suggested you could have had a finger
in such a business? But you are not quite yourself today, I
can see.’ He embraced the prince, and kissed him.
‘What do you mean, though,’ asked Muishkin, ‘‘by
such a business’? I don’t see any particular ‘business’ about
it at all!’
‘Oh, undoubtedly, this person wished somehow, and
for some reason, to do Evgenie Pavlovitch a bad turn, by
attributing to him—before witnesses—qualities which he
neither has nor can have,’ replied Prince S. drily enough.
Muiskhin looked disturbed, but continued to gaze
intently and questioningly into Prince S.’s face. The latter,
however, remained silent.
‘Then it was not simply a matter of bills?’ Muishkin
said at last, with some impatience. ‘It was not as she said?’
‘But I ask you, my dear sir, how can there be anything
in common between Evgenie Pavlovitch, and—her, and
again Rogojin? I tell you he is a man of immense
wealth—as I know for a fact; and he has further
expectations from his uncle. Simply Nastasia Philipovna—‘
Prince S. paused, as though unwilling to continue
talking about Nastasia Philipovna. The Idiot
554 of 1149
‘Then at all events he knows her!’ remarked the prince,
after a moment’s silence.
‘Oh, that may be. He may have known her some time
ago—two or three years, at least. He used to know Totski.
But it is impossible that there should be any intimacy
between them. She has not even been in the place—many
people don’t even know that she has returned from
Moscow! I have only observed her carriage about for the
last three days or so.’
‘It’s a lovely carriage,’ said Adelaida.
‘Yes, it was a beautiful turn-out, certainly!’
The visitors left the house, however, on no less friendly
terms than before. But the visit was of the greatest
importance to the prince, from his own point of view.
Admitting that he had his suspicions, from the moment of
the occurrence of last night, perhaps even before, that
Nastasia had some mysterious end in view, yet this visit
confirmed his suspicions and justified his fears. It was all
clear to him; Prince S. was wrong, perhaps, in his view of
the matter, but he was somewhere near the truth, and was
right in so far as that he understood there to be an intrigue
of some sort going on. Perhaps Prince S. saw it all more
clearly than he had allowed his hearers to understand. At
all events, nothing could be plainer than that he and The Idiot
