with great attention.
‘I really don’t absolutely know myself; I know my
feeling was very sincere. I had moments at that time full of
life and hope.’
‘What sort of hope?’
‘It is difficult to explain, but certainly not the hopes
you have in your mind. Hopes—well, in a word, hopes
for the future, and a feeling of joy that THERE, at all
events, I was not entirely a stranger and a foreigner. I felt
an ecstasy in being in my native land once more; and one
sunny morning I took up a pen and wrote her that letter,
but why to HER, I don’t quite know. Sometimes one
longs to have a friend near, and I evidently felt the need of
one then,’ added the prince, and paused.
‘Are you in love with her?’
‘N-no! I wrote to her as to a sister; I signed myself her
brother.’
‘Oh yes, of course, on purpose! I quite understand.’
‘It is very painful to me to answer these questions,
Lizabetha Prokofievna.’
‘I dare say it is; but that’s no affair of mine. Now then,
assure me truly as before Heaven, are you lying to me or
not?’ The Idiot
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‘No, I am not lying.’
‘Are you telling the truth when you say you are not in
love?’
‘I believe it is the absolute truth.’
‘‘I believe,’ indeed! Did that mischievous urchin give it
to her?’
‘I asked Nicolai Ardalionovitch …’
‘The urchin! the urchin!’ interrupted Lizabetha
Prokofievna in an angry voice. ‘I do not want to know if
it were Nicolai Ardalionovitch! The urchin!’
‘Nicolai Ardalionovitch …’
‘The urchin, I tell you!’
‘No, it was not the urchin: it was Nicolai
Ardalionovitch,’ said the prince very firmly, but without
raising his voice.
‘Well, all right! All right, my dear! I shall put that down
to your account.’
She was silent a moment to get breath, and to recover
her composure.
‘Well!—and what’s the meaning of the ‘poor knight,’
eh?’
‘I don’t know in the least; I wasn’t present when the
joke was made. It IS a joke. I suppose, and that’s all.’ The Idiot
579 of 1149
‘Well, that’s a comfort, at all events. You don’t suppose
she could take any interest in you, do you? Why, she
called you an ‘idiot’ herself.’
‘I think you might have spared me that,’ murmured the
prince reproachfully, almost in a whisper.
‘Don’t be angry; she is a wilful, mad, spoilt girl. If she
likes a person she will pitch into him, and chaff him. I
used to be just such another. But for all that you needn’t
flatter yourself, my boy; she is not for you. I don’t believe
it, and it is not to be. I tell you so at once, so that you may
take proper precautions. Now, I want to hear you swear
that you are not married to that woman?’
‘Lizabetha Prokofievna, what are you thinking of?’
cried the prince, almost leaping to his feet in amazement.
‘Why? You very nearly were, anyhow.’
‘Yes—I nearly was,’ whispered the prince, hanging his
head.
‘Well then, have you come here for HER? Are you in
love with HER? With THAT creature?’
‘I did not come to marry at all,’ replied the prince.
‘Is there anything you hold sacred?’
‘There is.’
‘Then swear by it that you did not come here to marry
HER!’ The Idiot
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‘I’ll swear it by whatever you please.’
‘I believe you. You may kiss me; I breathe freely at last.
But you must know, my dear friend, Aglaya does not love
you, and she shall never be your wife while I am out of
my grave. So be warned in time. Do you hear me?’
‘Yes, I hear.’
The prince flushed up so much that he could not look
her in the face.
‘I have waited for you with the greatest impatience (not
that you were worth it). Every night I have drenched my
pillow with tears, not for you, my friend, not for you,
don’t flatter yourself! I have my own grief, always the
same, always the same. But I’ll tell you why I have been
awaiting you so impatiently, because I believe that
Providence itself sent you to be a friend and a brother to
me. I haven’t a friend in the world except Princess
Bielokonski, and she is growing as stupid as a sheep from
old age. Now then, tell me, yes or no? Do you know why
she called out from her carriage the other night?’
‘I give you my word of honour that I had nothing to
do with the matter and know nothing about it.’
‘Very well, I believe you. I have my own ideas about
it. Up to yesterday morning I thought it was really
Evgenie Pavlovitch who was to blame; now I cannot help The Idiot
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agreeing with the others. But why he was made such a
fool of I cannot understand. However, he is not going to
marry Aglaya, I can tell you that. He may be a very
excellent fellow, but—so it shall be. I was not at all sure of
accepting him before, but now I have quite made up my
mind that I won’t have him. ‘Put me in my coffin first and
then into my grave, and then you may marry my daughter
to whomsoever you please,’ so I said to the general this
very morning. You see how I trust you, my boy.’
‘Yes, I see and understand.’
Mrs. Epanchin gazed keenly into the prince’s eyes. She
was anxious to see what impression the news as to Evgenie
Pavlovitch had made upon him.
‘Do you know anything about Gavrila Ardalionovitch?’
she asked at last.
‘Oh yes, I know a good deal.’
‘Did you know he had communications with Aglaya?’
‘No, I didn’t,’ said the prince, trembling a little, and in
great agitation. ‘You say Gavrila Ardalionovitch has
private communications with Aglaya?—Impossible!’
‘Only quite lately. His sister has been working like a rat
to clear the way for him all the winter.’
‘I don’t believe it!’ said the prince abruptly, after a short
pause. ‘Had it been so I should have known long ago.’ The Idiot
582 of 1149
‘Oh, of course, yes; he would have come and wept out
his secret on your bosom. Oh, you simpleton—you
simpleton! Anyone can deceive you and take you in like
a—like a,—aren’t you ashamed to trust him? Can’t you
see that he humbugs you just as much as ever he pleases?’
‘I know very well that he does deceive me occasionally,
and he knows that I know it, but—’ The prince did not
finish his sentence.
‘And that’s why you trust him, eh? So I should have
supposed. Good Lord, was there ever such a man as you?
Tfu! and are you aware, sir, that this Gania, or his sister
Varia, have brought her into correspondence with Nastasia
Philipovna?’
‘Brought whom?’ cried Muishkin.
‘Aglaya.’
‘I don’t believe it! It’s impossible! What object could
they have?’ He jumped up from his chair in his
excitement.
‘Nor do I believe it, in spite of the proofs. The girl is
self- willed and fantastic, and insane! She’s wicked,
wicked! I’ll repeat it for a thousand years that she’s
wicked; they ALL are, just now, all my daughters, even
that ‘wet hen’ Alexandra. And yet I don’t believe it.
Because I don’t choose to believe it, perhaps; but I don’t. The Idiot
583 of 1149
Why haven’t you been?’ she turned on the prince
suddenly. ‘Why didn’t you come near us all these three
days, eh?’
The prince began to give his reasons, but she
interrupted him again.
‘Everybody takes you in and deceives you; you went to
town yesterday. I dare swear you went down on your
knees to that rogue, and begged him to accept your ten
thousand roubles!’
‘I never thought of doing any such thing. I have not
seen him, and he is not a rogue, in my opinion. I have had
a letter from him.’
‘Show it me!’
The prince took a paper from his pocket-book, and
handed it to Lizabetha Prokofievna. It ran as follows:
‘SIR,
‘In the eyes of the world I am sure that I have no cause
for pride or self-esteem. I am much too insignificant for
that. But what may be so to other men’s eyes is not so to
yours. I am convinced that you are better than other
people. Doktorenko disagrees with me, but I am content
to differ from him on this point. I will never accept one
single copeck from you, but you have helped my mother,
and I am bound to be grateful to you for that, however The Idiot
584 of 1149
weak it may seem. At any rate, I have changed my
opinion about you, and I think right to inform you of the
fact; but I also suppose that there can be no further inter
course between us ’ ANTIP BURDOVSKY.
‘P.S.—The two hundred roubles I owe you shall
certainly be repaid in time.’
‘How extremely stupid!’ cried Mrs. Epanchin, giving
back the letter abruptly. ‘It was not worth the trouble of
reading. Why are you smiling?’
‘Confess that you are pleased to have read it.’
‘What! Pleased with all that nonsense! Why, cannot
you see that they are all infatuated with pride and vanity?’
‘He has acknowledged himself to be in the wrong.
Don’t you see that the greater his vanity, the more
difficult this admission must have been on his part? Oh,
what a little child you are, Lizabetha Prokofievna!’
‘Are you tempting me to box your ears for you, or
what?’
‘Not at all. I am only proving that you are glad about
the letter. Why conceal your real feelings? You always like
to do it.’
‘Never come near my house again!’ cried Mrs.
Epanchin, pale with rage. ‘Don’t let me see as much as a
SHADOW of you about the place! Do you hear?’ The Idiot
585 of 1149
‘Oh yes, and in three days you’ll come and invite me
yourself. Aren’t you ashamed now? These are your best
feelings; you are only tormenting yourself.’
‘I’ll die before I invite you! I shall forget your very
name! I’ve forgotten it already!’
She marched towards the door.
‘But I’m forbidden your house as it is, without your
added threats!’ cried the prince after her.
‘What? Who forbade you?’
She turned round so suddenly that one might have
supposed a needle had been stuck into her.
The prince hesitated. He perceived that he had said too
much now.
‘WHO forbade you?’ cried Mrs. Epanchin once more.
‘Aglaya Ivanovna told me—‘
‘When? Speak—quick!’
‘She sent to say, yesterday morning, that I was never to
dare to come near the house again.’
Lizabetha Prokofievna stood like a stone.
‘What did she send? Whom? Was it that boy? Was it a
message?- quick!’
‘I had a note,’ said the prince.
‘Where is it? Give it here, at once.’ The Idiot
586 of 1149
The prince thought a moment. Then he pulled out of
his waistcoat pocket an untidy slip of paper, on which was
scrawled:
"PRINCE LEF NICOLAIEVITCH,—If
you think fit, after all that has passed, to
honour our house with a visit, I can assure
you you will not find me among the
number of those who are in any way
delighted to see you.
"AGLAYA EPANCHIN.’
Mrs. Epanchin reflected a moment. The next minute
she flew at the prince, seized his hand, and dragged him
after her to the door.
‘Quick—come along!’ she cried, breathless with
agitation and impatience. ‘Come along with me this
moment!’
‘But you declared I wasn’t—‘
‘Don’t be a simpleton. You behave just as though you
weren’t a man at all. Come on! I shall see, now, with my
own eyes. I shall see all.’
‘Well, let me get my hat, at least.’
‘Here’s your miserable hat He couldn’t even choose a
respectable shape for his hat! Come on! She did that The Idiot
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because I took your part and said you ought to have
come—little vixen!—else she would never have sent you
that silly note. It’s a most improper note, I call it; most
improper for such an intelligent, well-brought-up girl to
write. H’m! I dare say she was annoyed that you didn’t
come; but she ought to have known that one can’t write
like that to an idiot like you, for you’d be sure to take it
literally.’ Mrs. Epanchin was dragging the prince along
with her all the time, and never let go of his hand for an
instant. ‘What are you listening for?’ she added, seeing that
she had committed herself a little. ‘She wants a clown like
you—she hasn’t seen one for some time—to play with.
That’s why she is anxious for you to come to the house.
And right glad I am that she’ll make a thorough good fool
of you. You deserve it; and she can do it—oh! she can,
indeed!—as well as most people.’ The Idiot
588 of 1149
Part III The Idiot
589 of 1149
I
THE Epanchin family, or at least the more serious
members of it, were sometimes grieved because they
seemed so unlike the rest of the world. They were not
quite certain, but had at times a strong suspicion that
things did not happen to them as they did to other people.
Others led a quiet, uneventful life, while they were subject
to continual upheavals. Others kept on the rails without
difficulty; they ran off at the slightest obstacle. Other
houses were governed by a timid routine; theirs was
somehow different. Perhaps Lizabetha Prokofievna was
alone in making these fretful observations; the girls,
though not wanting in intelligence, were still young; the
general was intelligent, too, but narrow, and in any
difficulty he was content to say, ‘H’m!’ and leave the
matter to his wife. Consequently, on her fell the
responsibility. It was not that they distinguished
themselves as a family by any particular originality, or that
their excursions off the track led to any breach of the
proprieties. Oh no.
There was nothing premeditated, there was not even
any conscious purpose in it all, and yet, in spite of
everything, the family, although highly respected, was not The Idiot
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quite what every highly respected family ought to be. For
a long time now Lizabetha Prokofievna had had it in her
mind that all the trouble was owing to her ‘unfortunate
character, ‘and this added to her distress. She blamed her
own stupid unconventional ‘eccentricity.’ Always restless,
always on the go, she constantly seemed to lose her way,
and to get into trouble over the simplest and more
