might say to herself—’There—you’ve done a new act of
shame—you degraded creature!’
‘Oh, Aglaya—perhaps you cannot understand all this.
Try to realize that in the perpetual admission of guilt she
probably finds some dreadful unnatural satisfaction—as
though she were revenging herself upon someone. The Idiot
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‘Now and then I was able to persuade her almost to see
light around her again; but she would soon fall, once
more, into her old tormenting delusions, and would go so
far as to reproach me for placing myself on a pedestal
above her (I never had an idea of such a thing!), and
informed me, in reply to my proposal of marriage, that she
‘did not want condescending sympathy or help from
anybody.’ You saw her last night. You don’t suppose she
can be happy among such people as those—you cannot
suppose that such society is fit for her? You have no idea
how well-educated she is, and what an intellect she has!
She astonished me sometimes.’
‘And you preached her sermons there, did you?’
‘Oh no,’ continued the prince thoughtfully, not
noticing Aglaya’s mocking tone, ‘I was almost always silent
there. I often wished to speak, but I really did not know
what to say. In some cases it is best to say nothing, I think.
I loved her, yes, I loved her very much indeed; but
afterwards—afterwards she guessed all.’
‘What did she guess?’
‘That I only PITIED her—and—and loved her no
longer!’ The Idiot
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‘How do you know that? How do you know that she
is not really in love with that—that rich cad—the man she
eloped with?’
‘Oh no! I know she only laughs at him; she has made a
fool of him all along.’
‘Has she never laughed at you?’
‘No—in anger, perhaps. Oh yes! she reproached me
dreadfully in anger; and suffered herself, too! But
afterwards—oh! don’t remind me—don’t remind me of
that!’
He hid his face in his hands.
‘Are you aware that she writes to me almost every day?’
‘So that is true, is it?’ cried the prince, greatly agitated.
‘I had heard a report of it, but would not believe it.’
‘Whom did you hear it from?’ asked Aglaya, alarmed.
‘Rogojin said something about it yesterday, but nothing
definite.’
‘Yesterday! Morning or evening? Before the music or
after?’
‘After—it was about twelve o’clock.’
‘Ah! Well, if it was Rogojin—but do you know what
she writes to me about?’
‘I should not be surprised by anything. She is mad!’ The Idiot
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‘There are the letters.’ (Aglaya took three letters out of
her pocket and threw them down before the prince.) ‘For
a whole week she has been entreating and worrying and
persuading me to marry you. She—well, she is clever,
though she may be mad—much cleverer than I am, as you
say. Well, she writes that she is in love with me herself,
and tries to see me every day, if only from a distance. She
writes that you love me, and that she has long known it
and seen it, and that you and she talked about me— there.
She wishes to see you happy, and she says that she is
certain only I can ensure you the happiness you deserve.
She writes such strange, wild letters—I haven’t shown
them to anyone. Now, do you know what all this means?
Can you guess anything?’
‘It is madness—it is merely another proof of her
insanity!’ said the prince, and his lips trembled.
‘You are crying, aren’t you?’
‘No, Aglaya. No, I’m not crying.’ The prince looked at
her.
‘Well, what am I to do? What do you advise me? I
cannot go on receiving these letters, you know.’
‘Oh, let her alone, I entreat you!’ cried the prince.
What can you do in this dark, gloomy mystery? Let her The Idiot
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alone, and I’ll use all my power to prevent her writing you
any more letters.’
‘If so, you are a heartless man!’ cried Aglaya. As if you
can’t see that it is not myself she loves, but you, you, and
only you! Surely you have not remarked everything else in
her, and only not THIS? Do you know what these letters
mean? They mean jealousy, sir—nothing but pure
jealousy! She—do you think she will ever really marry this
Rogojin, as she says here she will? She would take her
own life the day after you and I were married.’
The prince shuddered; his heart seemed to freeze
within him. He gazed at Aglaya in wonderment; it was
difficult for him to realize that this child was also a
woman.
‘God knows, Aglaya, that to restore her peace of mind
and make her happy I would willingly give up my life.
But I cannot love her, and she knows that.’
‘Oh, make a sacrifice of yourself! That sort of thing
becomes you well, you know. Why not do it? And don’t
call me ‘Aglaya’; you have done it several times lately.
You are bound, it is your DUTY to ‘raise’ her; you must
go off somewhere again to soothe and pacify her. Why,
you love her, you know!’ The Idiot
807 of 1149
‘I cannot sacrifice myself so, though I admit I did wish
to do so once. Who knows, perhaps I still wish to! But I
know for CERTAIN, that if she married me it would be
her ruin; I know this and therefore I leave her alone. I
ought to go to see her today; now I shall probably not go.
She is proud, she would never forgive me the nature of
the love I bear her, and we should both be ruined. This
may be unnatural, I don’t know; but everything seems
unnatural. You say she loves me, as if this were LOVE! As
if she could love ME, after what I have been through! No,
no, it is not love.’
‘How pale you have grown!’ cried Aglaya in alarm.
Oh, it’s nothing. I haven’t slept, that’s all, and I’m
rather tired. I—we certainly did talk about you, Aglaya.’
‘Oh, indeed, it is true then! YOU COULD
ACTUALLY TALK ABOUT ME WITH HER; and—
and how could you have been fond of me when you had
only seen me once?’
‘I don’t know. Perhaps it was that I seemed to come
upon light in the midst of my gloom. I told you the truth
when I said I did not know why I thought of you before
all others. Of course it was all a sort of dream, a dream
amidst the horrors of reality. Afterwards I began to work. I The Idiot
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did not intend to come back here for two or three years—
‘
‘Then you came for her sake?’ Aglaya’s voice trembled.
‘Yes, I came for her sake.’
There was a moment or two of gloomy silence. Aglaya
rose from her seat.
‘If you say,’ she began in shaky tones, ‘if you say that
this woman of yours is mad—at all events I have nothing
to do with her insane fancies. Kindly take these three
letters, Lef Nicolaievitch, and throw them back to her,
from me. And if she dares,’ cried Aglaya suddenly, much
louder than before, ‘if she dares so much as write me one
word again, tell her I shall tell my father, and that she shall
be taken to a lunatic asylum.’
The prince jumped up in alarm at Aglaya’s sudden
wrath, and a mist seemed to come before his eyes.
‘You cannot really feel like that! You don’t mean what
you say. It is not true,’ he murmured.
‘It IS true, it IS true,’ cried Aglaya, almost beside herself
with rage.
‘What’s true? What’s all this? What’s true?’ said an
alarmed voice just beside them.
Before them stood Lizabetha Prokofievna. The Idiot
809 of 1149
‘Why, it’s true that I am going to marry Gavrila
Ardalionovitch, that I love him and intend to elope with
him tomorrow,’ cried Aglaya, turning upon her mother.
‘Do you hear? Is your curiosity satisfied? Are you pleased
with what you have heard?’
Aglaya rushed away homewards with these words.
‘H’m! well, YOU are not going away just yet, my
friend, at all events,’ said Lizabetha, stopping the prince.
‘Kindly step home with me, and let me have a little
explanation of the mystery. Nice goings on, these! I
haven’t slept a wink all night as it is.’
The prince followed her. The Idiot
810 of 1149
IX
ARRIVED at her house, Lizabetha Prokofievna paused
in the first room. She could go no farther, and subsided on
to a couch quite exhausted; too feeble to remember so
much as to ask the prince to take a seat. This was a large
reception-room, full of flowers, and with a glass door
leading into the garden.
Alexandra and Adelaida came in almost immediately,
and looked inquiringly at the prince and their mother.
The girls generally rose at about nine in the morning in
the country; Aglaya, of late, had been in the habit of
getting up rather earlier and having a walk in the garden,
but not at seven o’clock; about eight or a little later was
her usual time.
Lizabetha Prokofievna, who really had not slept all
night, rose at about eight on purpose to meet Aglaya in
the garden and walk with her; but she could not find her
either in the garden or in her own room.
This agitated the old lady considerably; and she awoke
her other daughters. Next, she learned from the maid that
Aglaya had gone into the park before seven o’clock. The
sisters made a joke of Aglaya’s last freak, and told their The Idiot
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mother that if she went into the park to look for her,
Aglaya would probably be very angry with her, and that
she was pretty sure to be sitting reading on the green
bench that she had talked of two or three days since, and
about which she had nearly quarrelled with Prince S., who
did not see anything particularly lovely in it.
Arrived at the rendezvous of the prince and her
daughter, and hearing the strange words of the latter,
Lizabetha Prokofievna had been dreadfully alarmed, for
many reasons. However, now that she had dragged the
prince home with her, she began to feel a little frightened
at what she had undertaken. Why should not Aglaya meet
the prince in the park and have a talk with him, even if
such a meeting should be by appointment?
‘Don’t suppose, prince,’ she began, bracing herself up
for the effort, ‘don’t suppose that I have brought you here
to ask questions. After last night, I assure you, I am not so
exceedingly anxious to see you at all; I could have
postponed the pleasure for a long while.’ She paused.
‘But at the same time you would be very glad to know
how I happened to meet Aglaya Ivanovna this morning?’
The prince finished her speech for her with the utmost
composure. The Idiot
812 of 1149
‘Well, what then? Supposing I should like to know?’
cried Lizabetha Prokofievna, blushing. ‘I’m sure I am not
afraid of plain speaking. I’m not offending anyone, and I
never wish to, and—‘
‘Pardon me, it is no offence to wish to know this; you
are her mother. We met at the green bench this morning,
punctually at seven o’clock,—according to an agreement
made by Aglaya Ivanovna with myself yesterday. She said
that she wished to see me and speak to me about
something important. We met and conversed for an hour
about matters concerning Aglaya Ivanovna herself, and
that’s all.’
‘Of course it is all, my friend. I don’t doubt you for a
moment,’ said Lizabetha Prokofievna with dignity.
‘Well done, prince, capital!’ cried Aglaya, who entered
the room at this moment. ‘Thank you for assuming that I
would not demean myself with lies. Come, is that enough,
mamma, or do you intend to put any more questions?’
‘You know I have never needed to blush before you,
up to this day, though perhaps you would have been glad
enough to make me,’ said Lizabetha Prokofievna,—with
majesty. ‘Good-bye, prince; forgive me for bothering you.
I trust you will rest assured of my unalterable esteem for
you.’ The Idiot
813 of 1149
The prince made his bows and retired at once.
Alexandra and Adelaida smiled and whispered to each
other, while Lizabetha Prokofievna glared severely at
them. ‘We are only laughing at the prince’s beautiful
bows, mamma,’ said Adelaida. ‘Sometimes he bows just
like a meal-sack, but to-day he was like—like Evgenie
Pavlovitch!’
‘It is the HEART which is the best teacher of
refinement and dignity, not the dancing-master,’ said her
mother, sententiously, and departed upstairs to her own
room, not so much as glancing at Aglaya.
When the prince reached home, about nine o’clock, he
found Vera Lebedeff and the maid on the verandah. They
were both busy trying to tidy up the place after last night’s
disorderly party.
‘Thank goodness, we’ve just managed to finish it before
you came in!’ said Vera, joyfully.
‘Good-morning! My head whirls so; I didn’t sleep all
night. I should like to have a nap now.’
‘Here, on the verandah? Very well, I’ll tell them all not
to come and wake you. Papa has gone out somewhere.’
The servant left the room. Vera was about to follow
her, but returned and approached the prince with a
preoccupied air. The Idiot
814 of 1149
‘Prince!’ she said, ‘have pity on that poor boy; don’t
turn him out today.’
‘Not for the world; he shall do just as he likes.’
‘He won’t do any harm now; and—and don’t be too
severe with him,’
‘Oh dear no! Why—‘
‘And—and you won’t LAUGH at him? That’s the
chief thing.’
‘Oh no! Never.’
‘How foolish I am to speak of such things to a man like
you,’ said Vera, blushing. ‘Though you DO look tired,’
she added, half turning away,’ your eyes are so splendid at
this moment—so full of happiness.’
‘Really?’ asked the prince, gleefully, and he laughed in
delight.
But Vera, simple-minded little girl that she was (just
like a boy, in fact), here became dreadfully confused, of a
sudden, and ran hastily out of the room, laughing and
blushing.
‘What a dear little thing she is,’ thought the prince, and
immediately forgot all about her.
He walked to the far end of the verandah, where the
sofa stood, with a table in front of it. Here he sat down
and covered his face with his hands, and so remained for The Idiot
815 of 1149
ten minutes. Suddenly he put his hand in his coat-pocket
