to a lady yet? There—so. Now, come along, you and I
will lead the way. Would you like to lead the way with
me alone, tete-a-tete?’
She went on talking and chatting without a pause, with
occasional little bursts of laughter between.
‘Thank God—thank God!’ said Lizabetha Prokofievna
to herself, without quite knowing why she felt so relieved.
‘What extraordinary people they are!’ thought Prince
S., for perhaps the hundredth time since he had entered
into intimate relations with the family; but—he liked these
‘extraordinary people,’ all the same. As for Prince Lef The Idiot
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Nicolaievitch himself, Prince S. did not seem quite to like
him, somehow. He was decidedly preoccupied and a little
disturbed as they all started off.
Evgenie Pavlovitch seemed to be in a lively humour.
He made Adelaida and Alexandra laugh all the way to the
Vauxhall; but they both laughed so very really and
promptly that the worthy Evgenie began at last to suspect
that they were not listening to him at all.
At this idea, he burst out laughing all at once, in quite
unaffected mirth, and without giving any explanation.
The sisters, who also appeared to be in high spirits,
never tired of glancing at Aglaya and the prince, who were
walking in front. It was evident that their younger sister
was a thorough puzzle to them both.
Prince S. tried hard to get up a conversation with Mrs.
Epanchin upon outside subjects, probably with the good
intention of distracting and amusing her; but he bored her
dreadfully. She was absent-minded to a degree, and
answered at cross purposes, and sometimes not at all.
But the puzzle and mystery of Aglaya was not yet over
for the evening. The last exhibition fell to the lot of the
prince alone. When they had proceeded some hundred
paces or so from the house, Aglaya said to her obstinately
silent cavalier in a quick half- whisper: The Idiot
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‘Look to the right!’
The prince glanced in the direction indicated.
‘Look closer. Do you see that bench, in the park there,
just by those three big trees—that green bench?’
The prince replied that he saw it.
‘Do you like the position of it? Sometimes of a
morning early, at seven o’clock, when all the rest are still
asleep, I come out and sit there alone.’
The prince muttered that the spot was a lovely one.
‘Now, go away, I don’t wish to have your arm any
longer; or perhaps, better, continue to give me your arm,
and walk along beside me, but don’t speak a word to me. I
wish to think by myself.’
The warning was certainly unnecessary; for the prince
would not have said a word all the rest of the time
whether forbidden to speak or not. His heart beat loud
and painfully when Aglaya spoke of the bench; could
she—but no! he banished the thought, after an instant’s
deliberation.
At Pavlofsk, on weekdays, the public is more select
than it is on Sundays and Saturdays, when the townsfolk
come down to walk about and enjoy the park.
The ladies dress elegantly, on these days, and it is the
fashion to gather round the band, which is probably the The Idiot
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best of our pleasure-garden bands, and plays the newest
pieces. The behaviour of the public is most correct and
proper, and there is an appearance of friendly intimacy
among the usual frequenters. Many come for nothing but
to look at their acquaintances, but there are others who
come for the sake of the music. It is very seldom that
anything happens to break the harmony of the
proceedings, though, of course, accidents will happen
everywhere.
On this particular evening the weather was lovely, and
there were a large number of people present. All the places
anywhere near the orchestra were occupied.
Our friends took chairs near the side exit. The crowd
and the music cheered Mrs. Epanchin a little, and amused
the girls; they bowed and shook hands with some of their
friends and nodded at a distance to others; they examined
the ladies’ dresses, noticed comicalities and eccentricities
among the people, and laughed and talked among
themselves. Evgenie Pavlovitch, too, found plenty of
friends to bow to. Several people noticed Aglaya and the
prince, who were still together.
Before very long two or three young men had come
up, and one or two remained to talk; all of these young
men appeared to be on intimate terms with Evgenie The Idiot
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Pavlovitch. Among them was a young officer, a
remarkably handsome fellow—very good-natured and a
great chatterbox. He tried to get up a conversation with
Aglaya, and did his best to secure her attention. Aglaya
behaved very graciously to him, and chatted and laughed
merrily. Evgenie Pavlovitch begged the prince’s leave to
introduce their friend to him. The prince hardly realized
what was wanted of him, but the introduction came off;
the two men bowed and shook hands.
Evgenie Pavlovitch’s friend asked the prince some
question, but the latter did not reply, or if he did, he
muttered something so strangely indistinct that there was
nothing to be made of it. The officer stared intently at
him, then glanced at Evgenie, divined why the latter had
introduced him, and gave his undivided attention to
Aglaya again. Only Evgenie Pavlovitch observed that
Aglaya flushed up for a moment at this.
The prince did not notice that others were talking and
making themselves agreeable to Aglaya; in fact, at
moments, he almost forgot that he was sitting by her
himself. At other moments he felt a longing to go away
somewhere and be alone with his thoughts, and to feel
that no one knew where he was. The Idiot
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Or if that were impossible he would like to be alone at
home, on the terrace-without either Lebedeff or his
children, or anyone else about him, and to lie there and
think—a day and night and another day again! He thought
of the mountains-and especially of a certain spot which he
used to frequent, whence he would look down upon the
distant valleys and fields, and see the waterfall, far off, like
a little silver thread, and the old ruined castle in the
distance. Oh! how he longed to be there now—alone
with his thoughts—to think of one thing all his life—one
thing! A thousand years would not be too much time!
And let everyone here forget him—forget him utterly!
How much better it would have been if they had never
known him—if all this could but prove to be a dream.
Perhaps it was a dream!
Now and then he looked at Aglaya for five minutes at a
time, without taking his eyes off her face; but his
expression was very strange; he would gaze at her as
though she were an object a couple of miles distant, or as
though he were looking at her portrait and not at herself
at all.
‘Why do you look at me like that, prince?’ she asked
suddenly, breaking off her merry conversation and
laughter with those about her. ‘I’m afraid of you! You The Idiot
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look as though you were just going to put out your hand
and touch my face to see if it’s real! Doesn’t he, Evgenie
Pavlovitch—doesn’t he look like that?’
The prince seemed surprised that he should have been
addressed at all; he reflected a moment, but did not seem
to take in what had been said to him; at all events, he did
not answer. But observing that she and the others had
begun to laugh, he too opened his mouth and laughed
with them.
The laughter became general, and the young officer,
who seemed a particularly lively sort of person, simply
shook with mirth.
Aglaya suddenly whispered angrily to herself the
word—
‘Idiot!’
‘My goodness—surely she is not in love with such a—
surely she isn’t mad!’ groaned Mrs. Epanchin, under her
breath.
‘It’s all a joke, mamma; it’s just a joke like the ‘poor
knight’ —nothing more whatever, I assure you!’
Alexandra whispered in her ear. ‘She is chaffing him—
making a fool of him, after her own private fashion, that’s
all! But she carries it just a little too far—she is a regular The Idiot
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little actress. How she frightened us just now—didn’t
she?—and all for a lark!’
‘Well, it’s lucky she has happened upon an idiot, then,
that’s all I can say!’ whispered Lizabetha Prokofievna, who
was somewhat comforted, however, by her daughter’s
remark.
The prince had heard himself referred to as ‘idiot,’ and
had shuddered at the moment; but his shudder, it so
happened, was not caused by the word applied to him.
The fact was that in the crowd, not far from where lie was
sitting, a pale familiar face, with curly black hair, and a
well-known smile and expression, had flashed across his
vision for a moment, and disappeared again. Very likely he
had imagined it! There only remained to him the
impression of a strange smile, two eyes, and a bright green
tie. Whether the man had disappeared among the crowd,
or whether he had turned towards the Vauxhall, the
prince could not say.
But a moment or two afterwards he began to glance
keenly about him. That first vision might only too likely
be the forerunner of a second; it was almost certain to be
so. Surely he had not forgotten the possibility of such a
meeting when he came to the Vauxhall? True enough, he
had not remarked where he was coming to when he set The Idiot
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out with Aglaya; he had not been in a condition to remark
anything at all.
Had he been more careful to observe his companion,
he would have seen that for the last quarter of an hour
Aglaya had also been glancing around in apparent anxiety,
as though she expected to see someone, or something
particular, among the crowd of people. Now, at the
moment when his own anxiety became so marked, her
excitement also increased visibly, and when he looked
about him, she did the same.
The reason for their anxiety soon became apparent.
From that very side entrance to the Vauxhall, near which
the prince and all the Epanchin party were seated, there
suddenly appeared quite a large knot of persons, at least a
dozen.
Heading this little band walked three ladies, two of
whom were remarkably lovely; and there was nothing
surprising in the fact that they should have had a large
troop of admirers following in their wake.
But there was something in the appearance of both the
ladies and their admirers which was peculiar, quite
different for that of the rest of the public assembled around
the orchestra. The Idiot
632 of 1149
Nearly everyone observed the little band advancing,
and all pretended not to see or notice them, except a few
young fellows who exchanged glances and smiled, saying
something to one another in whispers.
It was impossible to avoid noticing them, however, in
reality, for they made their presence only too conspicuous
by laughing and talking loudly. It was to be supposed that
some of them were more than half drunk, although they
were well enough dressed, some even particularly well.
There were one or two, however, who were very strange-
looking creatures, with flushed faces and extraordinary
clothes; some were military men; not all were quite
young; one or two were middle-aged gentlemen of
decidedly disagreeable appearance, men who are avoided
in society like the plague, decked out in large gold studs
and rings, and magnificently ‘got up,’ generally.
Among our suburban resorts there are some which
enjoy a specially high reputation for respectability and
fashion; but the most careful individual is not absolutely
exempt from the danger of a tile falling suddenly upon his
head from his neighbour’s roof.
Such a tile was about to descend upon the elegant and
decorous public now assembled to hear the music. The Idiot
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In order to pass from the Vauxhall to the band-stand,
the visitor has to descend two or three steps. Just at these
steps the group paused, as though it feared to proceed
further; but very quickly one of the three ladies, who
formed its apex, stepped forward into the charmed circle,
followed by two members of her suite.
One of these was a middle-aged man of very
respectable appearance, but with the stamp of parvenu
upon him, a man whom nobody knew, and who
evidently knew nobody. The other follower was younger
and far less respectable-looking.
No one else followed the eccentric lady; but as she
descended the steps she did not even look behind her, as
though it were absolutely the same to her whether anyone
were following or not. She laughed and talked loudly,
however, just as before. She was dressed with great taste,
but with rather more magnificence than was needed for
the occasion, perhaps.
She walked past the orchestra, to where an open
carriage was waiting, near the road.
The prince had not seen HER for more than three
months. All these days since his arrival from Petersburg he
had intended to pay her a visit, but some mysterious
presentiment had restrained him. He could not picture to The Idiot
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himself what impression this meeting with her would
make upon him, though he had often tried to imagine it,
with fear and trembling. One fact was quite certain, and
that was that the meeting would be painful.
Several times during the last six months he had recalled
the effect which the first sight of this face had had upon
him, when he only saw its portrait. He recollected well
that even the portrait face had left but too painful an
impression.
That month in the provinces, when he had seen this
woman nearly every day, had affected him so deeply that
he could not now look back upon it calmly. In the very
look of this woman there was something which tortured
him. In conversation with Rogojin he had attributed this
sensation to pity—immeasurable pity, and this was the
