But the prince’s mental perturbation increased every
moment. He wandered about the park, looking absently
around him, and paused in astonishment when he
suddenly found himself in the empty space with the rows
of chairs round it, near the Vauxhall. The look of the
place struck him as dreadful now: so he turned round and
went by the path which he had followed with the
Epanchins on the way to the band, until he reached the
green bench which Aglaya had pointed out for their
rendezvous. He sat down on it and suddenly burst into a
loud fit of laughter, immediately followed by a feeling of
irritation. His disturbance of mind continued; he felt that
he must go away somewhere, anywhere. The Idiot
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Above his head some little bird sang out, of a sudden;
he began to peer about for it among the leaves. Suddenly
the bird darted out of the tree and away, and instantly he
thought of the ‘fly buzzing about in the sun’s rays’ that
Hippolyte had talked of; how that it knew its place and
was a participator in the universal life, while he alone was
an ‘outcast.’ This picture had impressed him at the time,
and he meditated upon it now. An old, forgotten memory
awoke in his brain, and suddenly burst into clearness and
light. It was a recollection of Switzerland, during the first
year of his cure, the very first months. At that time he had
been pretty nearly an idiot still; he could not speak
properly, and had difficulty in understanding when others
spoke to him. He climbed the mountain-side, one sunny
morning, and wandered long and aimlessly with a certain
thought in his brain, which would not become clear.
Above him was the blazing sky, below, the lake; all
around was the horizon, clear and infinite. He looked out
upon this, long and anxiously. He remembered how he
had stretched out his arms towards the beautiful, boundless
blue of the horizon, and wept, and wept. What had so
tormented him was the idea that he was a stranger to all
this, that he was outside this glorious festival. The Idiot
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What was this universe? What was this grand, eternal
pageant to which he had yearned from his childhood up,
and in which he could never take part? Every morning the
same magnificent sun; every morning the same rainbow in
the waterfall; every evening the same glow on the snow-
mountains.
Every little fly that buzzed in the sun’s rays was a singer
in the universal chorus, ‘knew its place, and was happy in
it. ‘Every blade of grass grew and was happy. Everything
knew its path and loved it, went forth with a song and
returned with a song; only he knew nothing, understood
nothing, neither men nor words, nor any of nature’s
voices; he was a stranger and an outcast.
Oh, he could not then speak these words, or express all
he felt! He had been tormented dumbly; but now it
appeared to him that he must have said these very
words—even then—and that Hippolyte must have taken
his picture of the little fly from his tears and words of that
time.
He was sure of it, and his heart beat excitedly at the
thought, he knew not why.
He fell asleep on the bench; but his mental disquiet
continued through his slumbers. The Idiot
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Just before he dozed off, the idea of Hippolyte
murdering ten men flitted through his brain, and he
smiled at the absurdity of such a thought.
Around him all was quiet; only the flutter and whisper
of the leaves broke the silence, but broke it only to cause
it to appear yet more deep and still.
He dreamed many dreams as he sat there, and all were
full of disquiet, so that he shuddered every moment.
At length a woman seemed to approach him. He knew
her, oh! he knew her only too well. He could always
name her and recognize her anywhere; but, strange, she
seemed to have quite a different face from hers, as he had
known it, and he felt a tormenting desire to be able to say
she was not the same woman. In the face before him there
was such dreadful remorse and horror that he thought she
must be a criminal, that she must have just committed
some awful crime.
Tears were trembling on her white cheek. She
beckoned him, but placed her finger on her lip as though
to warn him that he must follow her very quietly. His
heart froze within him. He wouldn’t, he COULDN’T
confess her to be a criminal, and yet he felt that something
dreadful would happen the next moment, something
which would blast his whole life. The Idiot
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She seemed to wish to show him something, not far
off, in the park.
He rose from his seat in order to follow her, when a
bright, clear peal of laughter rang out by his side. He felt
somebody’s hand suddenly in his own, seized it, pressed it
hard, and awoke. Before him stood Aglaya, laughing
aloud. The Idiot
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VIII
SHE laughed, but she was rather angry too.
‘He’s asleep! You were asleep,’ she said, with
contemptuous surprise.
‘Is it really you?’ muttered the prince, not quite himself
as yet, and recognizing her with a start of amazement. ‘Oh
yes, of course,’ he added, ‘this is our rendezvous. I fell
asleep here.’
‘So I saw.’
‘Did no one awake me besides yourself? Was there no
one else here? I thought there was another woman.’
‘There was another woman here?’
At last he was wide awake.
‘It was a dream, of course,’ he said, musingly. ‘Strange
that I should have a dream like that at such a moment. Sit
down—‘
He took her hand and seated her on the bench; then sat
down beside her and reflected.
Aglaya did not begin the conversation, but contented
herself with watching her companion intently.
He looked back at her, but at times it was clear that he
did not see her and was not thinking of her. The Idiot
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Aglaya began to flush up.
‘Oh yes!’ cried the prince, starting. ‘Hippolyte’s
suicide—‘
‘What? At your house?’ she asked, but without much
surprise. ‘He was alive yesterday evening, wasn’t he? How
could you sleep here after that?’ she cried, growing
suddenly animated.
‘Oh, but he didn’t kill himself; the pistol didn’t go off.’
Aglaya insisted on hearing the whole story. She hurried
the prince along, but interrupted him with all sorts of
questions, nearly all of which were irrelevant. Among
other things, she seemed greatly interested in every word
that Evgenie Pavlovitch had said, and made the prince
repeat that part of the story over and over again.
‘Well, that’ll do; we must be quick,’ she concluded,
after hearing all. ‘We have only an hour here, till eight; I
must be home by then without fail, so that they may not
find out that I came and sat here with you; but I’ve come
on business. I have a great deal to say to you. But you
have bowled me over considerably with your news. As to
Hippolyte, I think his pistol was bound not to go off; it
was more consistent with the whole affair. Are you sure
he really wished to blow his brains out, and that there was
no humbug about the matter?’ The Idiot
786 of 1149
‘No humbug at all.’
‘Very likely. So he wrote that you were to bring me a
copy of his confession, did he? Why didn’t you bring it?’
‘Why, he didn’t die! I’ll ask him for it, if you like.’
‘Bring it by all means; you needn’t ask him. He will be
delighted, you may be sure; for, in all probability, he shot
at himself simply in order that I might read his confession.
Don’t laugh at what I say, please, Lef Nicolaievitch,
because it may very well be the case.’
‘I’m not laughing. I am convinced, myself, that that
may have been partly the reason.
‘You are convinced? You don’t really mean to say you
think that honestly?’ asked Aglaya, extremely surprised.
She put her questions very quickly and talked fast,
every now and then forgetting what she had begun to say,
and not finishing her sentence. She seemed to be
impatient to warn the prince about something or other.
She was in a state of unusual excitement, and though she
put on a brave and even defiant air, she seemed to be
rather alarmed. She was dressed very simply, but this
suited her well. She continually trembled and blushed, and
she sat on the very edge of the seat. The Idiot
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The fact that the prince confirmed her idea, about
Hippolyte shooting himself that she might read his
confession, surprised her greatly.
‘Of course,’ added the prince, ‘he wished us all to
applaud his conduct—besides yourself.’
‘How do you mean—applaud?’
‘Well—how am I to explain? He was very anxious that
we should all come around him, and say we were so sorry
for him, and that we loved him very much, and all that;
and that we hoped he wouldn’t kill himself, but remain
alive. Very likely he thought more of you than the rest of
us, because he mentioned you at such a moment, though
perhaps he did not know himself that he had you in his
mind’s eye.’
‘I don’t understand you. How could he have me in
view, and not be aware of it himself? And yet, I don’t
know—perhaps I do. Do you know I have intended to
poison myself at least thirty times—ever since I was
thirteen or so—and to write to my parents before I did it?
I used to think how nice it would be to lie in my coffin,
and have them all weeping over me and saying it was all
their fault for being so cruel, and all that—what are you
smiling at?’ she added, knitting her brow. ‘What do YOU
think of when you go mooning about alone? I suppose The Idiot
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you imagine yourself a field- marshal, and think you have
conquered Napoleon?’
‘Well, I really have thought something of the sort now
and then, especially when just dozing off,’ laughed the
prince. ‘Only it is the Austrians whom I conquer—not
Napoleon.’
‘I don’t wish to joke with you, Lef Nicolaievitch. I
shall see Hippolyte myself. Tell him so. As for you, I think
you are behaving very badly, because it is not right to
judge a man’s soul as you are judging Hippolyte’s. You
have no gentleness, but only justice—so you are unjust.’
The prince reflected.
‘I think you are unfair towards me,’ he said. ‘There is
nothing wrong in the thoughts I ascribe to Hippolyte;
they are only natural. But of course I don’t know for
certain what he thought. Perhaps he thought nothing, but
simply longed to see human faces once more, and to hear
human praise and feel human affection. Who knows?
Only it all came out wrong, somehow. Some people have
luck, and everything comes out right with them; others
have none, and never a thing turns out fortunately.’
‘I suppose you have felt that in your own case,’ said
Aglaya. The Idiot
789 of 1149
‘Yes, I have,’ replied the prince, quite unsuspicious of
any irony in the remark.
‘H’m—well, at all events, I shouldn’t have fallen asleep
here, in your place. It wasn’t nice of you, that. I suppose
you fall asleep wherever you sit down?’
‘But I didn’t sleep a wink all night. I walked and
walked about, and went to where the music was—‘
‘What music?’
‘Where they played last night. Then I found this bench
and sat down, and thought and thought—and at last I fell
fast asleep.’
‘Oh, is that it? That makes a difference, perhaps. What
did you go to the bandstand for?’
‘I don’t know; I—-‘
‘Very well—afterwards. You are always interrupting
me. What woman was it you were dreaming about?’
‘It was—about—you saw her—‘
‘Quite so; I understand. I understand quite well. You
are very— Well, how did she appear to you? What did she
look like? No, I don’t want to know anything about her,’
said Aglaya, angrily; ‘don’t interrupt me—‘
She paused a moment as though getting breath, or
trying to master her feeling of annoyance. The Idiot
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‘Look here; this is what I called you here for. I wish to
make you a—to ask you to be my friend. What do you
stare at me like that for?’ she added, almost angrily.
The prince certainly had darted a rather piercing look
at her, and now observed that she had begun to blush
violently. At such moments, the more Aglaya blushed, the
angrier she grew with herself; and this was clearly
expressed in her eyes, which flashed like fire. As a rule, she
vented her wrath on her unfortunate companion, be it
who it might. She was very conscious of her own shyness,
and was not nearly so talkative as her sisters for this
reason—in fact, at times she was much too quiet. When,
therefore, she was bound to talk, especially at such delicate
moments as this, she invariably did so with an air of
haughty defiance. She always knew beforehand when she
was going to blush, long before the blush came.
‘Perhaps you do not wish to accept my proposition?’
she asked, gazing haughtily at the prince.
‘Oh yes, I do; but it is so unnecessary. I mean, I did not
think you need make such a proposition,’ said the prince,
looking confused.
‘What did you suppose, then? Why did you think I
invited you out here? I suppose you think me a ‘little
fool,’ as they all call me at home?’ The Idiot
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‘I didn’t know they called you a fool. I certainly don’t
think you one.’
‘You don’t think me one! Oh, dear me!—that’s very
clever of you; you put it so neatly, too.’
‘In my opinion, you are far from a fool sometimes—in
fact, you are very intelligent. You said a very clever thing
just now about my being unjust because I had ONLY
justice. I shall remember that, and think about it.’
Aglaya blushed with pleasure. All these changes in her
expression came about so naturally and so rapidly—they
delighted the prince; he watched her, and laughed.
‘Listen,’ she began again; ‘I have long waited to tell you
all this, ever since the time when you sent me that letter—
even before that. Half of what I have to say you heard
yesterday. I consider you the most honest and upright of
