VIII.
The flat occupied by Gania and his family was on the third floor
of the house. It was reached by a clean light staircase, and
consisted of seven rooms, a nice enough lodging, and one would
have thought a little too good for a clerk on two thousand
roubles a year. But it was designed to accommodate a few lodgers
on board terms, and had beer) taken a few months since, much to
the disgust of Gania, at the urgent request of his mother and his
sister, Varvara Ardalionovna, who longed to do something to
increase the family income a little, and fixed their hopes upon
letting lodgings. Gania frowned upon the idea. He thought it
infra dig, and did not quite like appearing in society
afterwards--that society in which he had been accustomed to pose
up to now as a young man of rather brilliant prospects. All these
concessions and rebuffs of fortune, of late, had wounded his
spirit severely, and his temper had become extremely irritable,
his wrath being generally quite out of proportion to the cause.
But if he had made up his mind to put up with this sort of life
for a while, it was only on the plain understanding with his
inner self that he would very soon change it all, and have things
as he chose again. Yet the very means by which he hoped to make
this change threatened to involve him in even greater
difficulties than he had had before.
The flat was divided by a passage which led straight out of the
entrance-hall. Along one side of this corridor lay the three
rooms which were designed for the accommodation of the "highly
recommended" lodgers. Besides these three rooms there was
another small one at the end of the passage, close to the
kitchen, which was allotted to General Ivolgin, the nominal
master of the house, who slept on a wide sofa, and was obliged
to pass into and out of his room through the kitchen, and up
or down the back stairs. Colia, Gania's young brother, a
school-boy of thirteen, shared this room with his father.
He, too, had to sleep on an old sofa, a narrow, uncomfortable
thing with a torn rug over it; his chief duty being to look
after his father, who needed to be watched more and more
every day.
The prince was given the middle room of the three, the first
being occupied by one Ferdishenko, while the third was empty.
But Gania first conducted the prince to the family apartments.
These consisted of a "salon," which became the dining-room when
required; a drawing-room, which was only a drawing-room in the
morning, and became Gania's study in the evening, and his bedroom
at night; and lastly Nina Alexandrovna's and Varvara's bedroom, a
small, close chamber which they shared together.
In a word, the whole place was confined, and a "tight fit" for
the party. Gania used to grind his teeth with rage over the state
of affairs; though he was anxious to be dutiful and polite to his
mother. However, it was very soon apparent to anyone coming into
the house, that Gania was the tyrant of the family.
Nina Alexandrovna and her daughter were both seated in the
drawing-room, engaged in knitting, and talking to a visitor, Ivan
Petrovitch Ptitsin.
The lady of the house appeared to be a woman of about fifty years
of age, thin-faced, and with black lines under the eves. She
looked ill and rather sad; but her face was a pleasant one for
all that; and from the first word that fell from her lips, any
stranger would at once conclude that she was of a serious and
particularly sincere nature. In spite of her sorrowful
expression, she gave the idea of possessing considerable firmness
and decision.
Her dress was modest and simple to a degree, dark and elderly in
style; but both her face and appearance gave evidence that she
had seen better days.
Varvara was a girl of some twenty-three summers, of middle
height, thin, but possessing a face which, without being actually
beautiful, had the rare quality of charm, and might fascinate
even to the extent of passionate regard.
She was very like her mother: she even dressed like her, which
proved that she had no taste for smart clothes. The expression of
her grey eyes was merry and gentle, when it was not, as lately,
too full of thought and anxiety. The same decision and firmness
was to be observed in her face as in her mother's, but her
strength seemed to be more vigorous than that of Nina
Alexandrovna. She was subject to outbursts of temper, of which
even her brother was a little afraid.
The present visitor, Ptitsin, was also afraid of her. This was a
young fellow of something under thirty, dressed plainly, but
neatly. His manners were good, but rather ponderously so. His
dark beard bore evidence to the fact that he was not in any
government employ. He could speak well, but preferred silence. On
the whole he made a decidedly agreeable impression. He was
clearly attracted by Varvara, and made no secret of his feelings.
She trusted him in a friendly way, but had not shown him any
decided encouragement as yet, which fact did not quell his ardour
in the least.
Nina Alexandrovna was very fond of him, and had grown quite
confidential with him of late. Ptitsin, as was well known, was
engaged in the business of lending out money on good security,
and at a good rate of interest. He was a great friend of Gania's.
After a formal introduction by Gania (who greeted his mother very
shortly, took no notice of his sister, and immediately marched
Ptitsin out of the room), Nina Alexandrovna addressed a few kind
words to the prince and forthwith requested Colia, who had just
appeared at the door, to show him to the " middle room."
Colia was a nice-looking boy. His expression was simple and
confiding, and his manners were very polite and engaging.
"Where's your luggage?" he asked, as he led the prince away to
his room.
"I had a bundle; it's in the entrance hall."
"I'll bring it you directly. We only have a cook and one maid, so
I have to help as much as I can. Varia looks after things,
generally, and loses her temper over it. Gania says you have only
just arrived from Switzerland? "
"Yes."
"Is it jolly there?"
"Very."
"Mountains?"
"Yes."
"I'll go and get your bundle."
Here Varvara joined them.
"The maid shall bring your bed-linen directly. Have you a
portmanteau?"
"No; a bundle--your brother has just gone to the hall for it."
"There's nothing there except this," said Colia, returning at
this moment. "Where did you put it?"
"Oh! but that's all I have," said the prince, taking it.
"Ah! I thought perhaps Ferdishenko had taken it."
"Don't talk nonsense," said Varia, severely. She seemed put out,
and was only just polite with the prince.
"Oho!" laughed the boy, "you can be nicer than that to ME, you
know--I'm not Ptitsin!"
"You ought to be whipped, Colia, you silly boy. If you want
anything" (to the prince) "please apply to the servant. We dine
at half-past four. You can take your dinner with us, or have it
in your room, just as you please. Come along, Colia, don't
disturb the prince."
At the door they met Gania coming in.
"Is father in?" he asked. Colia whispered something in his ear
and went out.
"Just a couple of words, prince, if you'll excuse me. Don't blab
over THERE about what you may see here, or in this house as to
all that about Aglaya and me, you know. Things are not altogether
pleasant in this establishment--devil take it all! You'll see. At
all events keep your tongue to yourself for TODAY."
"I assure you I 'blabbed' a great deal less than you seem to
suppose," said the prince, with some annoyance. Clearly the
relations between Gania and himself were by no means improving.
"Oh I well; I caught it quite hot enough today, thanks to you.
However, I forgive you."
"I think you might fairly remember that I was not in any way
bound, I had no reason to be silent about that portrait. You
never asked me not to mention it."
"Pfu! what a wretched room this is--dark, and the window looking
into the yard. Your coming to our house is, in no respect,
opportune. However, it's not MY affair. I don't keep the
lodgings."
Ptitsin here looked in and beckoned to Gania, who hastily left
the room, in spite of the fact that he had evidently wished to
say something more and had only made the remark about the room to
gain time. The prince had hardly had time to wash and tidy
himself a little when the door opened once more, and another
figure appeared.
This was a gentleman of about thirty, tall, broadshouldered, and
red-haired; his face was red, too, and he possessed a pair of
thick lips, a wide nose, small eyes, rather bloodshot, and with
an ironical expression in them; as though he were perpetually
winking at someone. His whole appearance gave one the idea of
impudence; his dress was shabby.
He opened the door just enough to let his head in. His head
remained so placed for a few seconds while he quietly scrutinized
the room; the door then opened enough to admit his body; but
still he did not enter. He stood on the threshold and examined
the prince carefully. At last he gave the door a final shove,
entered, approached the prince, took his hand and seated himself
and the owner of the room on two chairs side by side.
"Ferdishenko," he said, gazing intently and inquiringly into the
prince's eyes.
"Very well, what next?" said the latter, almost laughing in his
face.
"A lodger here," continued the other, staring as before.
"Do you wish to make acquaintance?" asked the prince.
"Ah!" said the visitor, passing his fingers through his hair and
sighing. He then looked over to the other side of the room and
around it. "Got any money?" he asked, suddenly.
"Not much."
"How much?"
"Twenty-five roubles."
"Let's see it."
The prince took his banknote out and showed it to Ferdishenko.
The latter unfolded it and looked at it; then he turned it round
and examined the other side; then he held it up to the light.
"How strange that it should have browned so," he said,
reflectively. "These twenty-five rouble notes brown in a most
extraordinary way, while other notes often grow paler. Take it."
The prince took his note. Ferdishenko rose.
"I came here to warn you," he said. "In the first place, don't
lend me any money, for I shall certainly ask you to."
"Very well."
"Shall you pay here?"
"Yes, I intend to."
"Oh! I DON'T intend to. Thanks. I live here, next door to you;
you noticed a room, did you? Don't come to me very often; I shall
see you here quite often enough. Have you seen the general?"
"No."
"Nor heard him?"
"No; of course not."
"Well, you'll both hear and see him soon; he even tries to borrow
money from me. Avis au lecteur. Good-bye; do you think a man can
possibly live with a name like Ferdishenko?"
"Why not?"
"Good-bye."
And so he departed. The prince found out afterwards that this
gentleman made it his business to amaze people with his
originality and wit, but that it did not as a rule "come off." He
even produced a bad impression on some people, which grieved him
sorely; but he did not change his ways for all that.
As he went out of the prince's room, he collided with yet another
visitor coming in. Ferdishenko took the opportunity of making
several warning gestures to the prince from behind the new
arrival's back, and left the room in conscious pride.
This next arrival was a tall red-faced man of about fifty-five,
with greyish hair and whiskers, and large eyes which stood out of
their sockets. His appearance would have been distinguished had
it not been that he gave the idea of being rather dirty. He was
dressed in an old coat, and he smelled of vodka when he came
near. His walk was effective, and he clearly did his best to
appear dignified, and to impress people by his manner.
This gentleman now approached the prince slowly, and with a most
courteous smile; silently took his hand and held it in his own,
as he examined the prince's features as though searching for
familiar traits therein.
"'Tis he, 'tis he!" he said at last, quietly, but with much
solemnity. "As though he were alive once more. I heard the
familiar name-the dear familiar name--and, oh. I how it reminded
me of the irrevocable past--Prince Muishkin, I believe ?"
"Exactly so."
"General Ivolgin--retired and unfortunate. May I ask your
Christian and generic names?"
"Lef Nicolaievitch."
"So, so--the son of my old, I may say my childhood's friend,
Nicolai Petrovitch."
"My father's name was Nicolai Lvovitch."
"Lvovitch," repeated the general without the slightest haste, and
with perfect confidence, just as though he had not committed
himself the least in the world, but merely made a little slip of
the tongue. He sat down, and taking the prince's hand, drew him
to a seat next to himself.
"I carried you in my arms as a baby," he observed.
"Really?" asked the prince. "Why, it's twenty years since my
father died."
"Yes, yes--twenty years and three months. We were educated
together; I went straight into the army, and he--"
"My father went into the army, too. He was a sub-lieutenant in
the Vasiliefsky regiment."
"No, sir--in the Bielomirsky; he changed into the latter shortly
before his death. I was at his bedside when he died, and gave him
my blessing for eternity. Your mother--" The general paused, as
though overcome with emotion.
"She died a few months later, from a cold," said the prince.
"Oh, not cold--believe an old man--not from a cold, but from
grief for her prince. Oh--your mother, your mother! heigh-ho!
Youth--youth! Your father and I--old friends as we were--nearly
murdered each other for her sake."
The prince began to be a little incredulous.
"I was passionately in love with her when she was engaged--
engaged to my friend. The prince noticed the fact and was
furious. He came and woke me at seven o'clock one morning. I rise
and dress in amazement; silence on both sides. I understand it
all. He takes a couple of pistols out of his pocket--across a
handkerchief--without witnesses. Why invite witnesses when both
of us would be walking in eternity in a couple of minutes? The
pistols are loaded; we stretch the handkerchief and stand
opposite one another. We aim the pistols at each other's hearts.
Suddenly tears start to our eyes, our hands shake; we weep, we
embrace--the battle is one of self-sacrifice now! The prince
shouts, 'She is yours;' I cry, 'She is yours--' in a word, in a
word--You've come to live with us, hey?"
"Yes--yes--for a while, I think," stammered the prince.
"Prince, mother begs you to come to her," said Colia, appearing
at the door.
The prince rose to go, but the general once more laid his hand in
a friendly manner on his shoulder, and dragged him down on to the
sofa.
"As the true friend of your father, I wish to say a few words to
you," he began. "I have suffered--there was a catastrophe. I
suffered without a trial; I had no trial. Nina Alexandrovna my
wife, is an excellent woman, so is my daughter Varvara. We have
to let lodgings because we are poor--a dreadful, unheard-of come-
down for us--for me, who should have been a governor-general; but
we are very glad to have YOU, at all events. Meanwhile there is a
tragedy in the house."
The prince looked inquiringly at the other.
"Yes, a marriage is being arranged--a marriage between a
questionable woman and a young fellow who might be a flunkey.
They wish to bring this woman into the house where my wife and
daughter reside, but while I live and breathe she shall never
enter my doors. I shall lie at the threshold, and she shall
trample me underfoot if she does. I hardly talk to Gania now, and
avoid him as much as I can. I warn you of this beforehand, but
you cannot fail to observe it. But you are the son of my old
friend, and I hope--"
"Prince, be so kind as to come to me for a moment in the drawing-
room," said Nina Alexandrovna herself, appearing at the door.
"Imagine, my dear," cried the general, "it turns out that I have
nursed the prince on my knee in the old days." His wife looked
searchingly at him, and glanced at the prince, but said nothing.
The prince rose and followed her; but hardly had they reached the
drawing-room, and Nina Alexandrovna had begun to talk hurriedly,
when in came the general. She immediately relapsed into silence.
The master of the house may have observed this, but at all events
he did not take any notice of it; he was in high good humour.
"A son of my old friend, dear," he cried; "surely you must
remember Prince Nicolai Lvovitch? You saw him at--at Tver."
"I don't remember any Nicolai Lvovitch, Was that your father?"
she inquired of the prince.
"Yes, but he died at Elizabethgrad, not at Tver," said the
prince, rather timidly. "So Pavlicheff told me."
"No, Tver," insisted the general; "he removed just before his
death. You were very small and cannot remember; and Pavlicheff,
though an excellent fellow, may have made a mistake."
"You knew Pavlicheff then?"
"Oh, yes--a wonderful fellow; but I was present myself. I gave
him my blessing."
"My father was just about to be tried when he died," said the
prince, "although I never knew of what he was accused. He died in
hospital."
"Oh! it was the Kolpakoff business, and of course he would have
been acquitted."
"Yes? Do you know that for a fact?" asked the prince, whose
curiosity was aroused by the general's words.
"I should think so indeed!" cried the latter. "The court-martial
came to no decision. It was a mysterious, an impossible business,
one might say! Captain Larionoff, commander of the company, had
died; his command was handed over to the prince for the moment.
Very well. This soldier, Kolpakoff, stole some leather from one
of his comrades, intending to sell it, and spent the money on
drink. Well! The prince--you understand that what follows took
place in the presence of the sergeant-major, and a corporal--the
prince rated Kolpakoff soundly, and threatened to have him
flogged. Well, Kolpakoff went back to the barracks, lay down on a
camp bedstead, and in a quarter of an hour was dead: you quite
understand? It was, as I said, a strange, almost impossible,
affair. In due course Kolpakoff was buried; the prince wrote his
report, the deceased's name was removed from the roll. All as it
should be, is it not? But exactly three months later at the
inspection of the brigade, the man Kolpakoff was found in the
third company of the second battalion of infantry, Novozemlianski
division, just as if nothing had happened!"
"What?" said the prince, much astonished.
"It did not occur--it's a mistake!" said Nina Alexandrovna
quickly, looking, at the prince rather anxiously. "Mon mari se
trompe," she added, speaking in French.
"My dear, 'se trompe' is easily said. Do you remember any case at
all like it? Everybody was at their wits' end. I should be the
first to say 'qu'on se trompe,' but unfortunately I was an eye-
witness, and was also on the commission of inquiry. Everything
proved that it was really he, the very same soldier Kolpakoff who
had been given the usual military funeral to the sound of the
drum. It is of course a most curious case--nearly an impossible
one. I recognize that ... but--"
"Father, your dinner is ready," said Varvara at this point,
putting her head in at the door.
"Very glad, I'm particularly hungry. Yes, yes, a strange
coincidence--almost a psychological--"
"Your soup'll be cold; do come."
"Coming, coming " said the general. "Son of my old friend--" he
was heard muttering as he went down the passage.
"You will have to excuse very much in my husband, if you stay
with us," said Nina Alexandrovna; "but he will not disturb you
often. He dines alone. Everyone has his little peculiarities, you
know, and some people perhaps have more than those who are most
pointed at and laughed at. One thing I must beg of you-if my
husband applies to you for payment for board and lodging, tell
him that you have already paid me. Of course anything paid by you
to the general would be as fully settled as if paid to me, so far
as you are concerned; but I wish it to be so, if you please, for
convenience' sake. What is it, Varia?"
Varia had quietly entered the room, and was holding out the
portrait of Nastasia Philipovna to her mother.
Nina Alexandrovna started, and examined the photograph intently,
gazing at it long and sadly. At last she looked up inquiringly at
Varia.
"It's a present from herself to him," said Varia; "the question
is to be finally decided this evening."
"This evening!" repeated her mother in a tone of despair, but
softly, as though to herself. "Then it's all settled, of course,
and there's no hope left to us. She has anticipated her answer by
the present of her portrait. Did he show it you himself?" she
added, in some surprise.
"You know we have hardly spoken to each other for a whole month.
Ptitsin told me all about it; and the photo was lying under the
table, and I picked it up."
"Prince," asked Nina Alexandrovna, "I wanted to inquire whether
you have known my son long? I think he said that you had only
arrived today from somewhere."
The prince gave a short narrative of what we have heard before,
leaving out the greater part. The two ladies listened intently.
"I did not ask about Gania out of curiosity," said the elder, at
last. "I wish to know how much you know about him, because he
said just now that we need not stand on ceremony with you. What,
exactly, does that mean?"
At this moment Gania and Ptitsin entered the room together, and
Nina Alexandrovna immediately became silent again. The prince
remained seated next to her, but Varia moved to the other end of
the room; the portrait of Nastasia Philipovna remained lying as
before on the work-table. Gania observed it there, and with a
frown of annoyance snatched it up and threw it across to his
writing-table, which stood at the other end of the room.
"Is it today, Gania?" asked Nina Alexandrovna, at last.
"Is what today?" cried the former. Then suddenly recollecting
himself, he turned sharply on the prince. "Oh," he growled, "I
see, you are here, that explains it! Is it a disease, or what,
that you can't hold your tongue? Look here, understand once for
all, prince--"
"I am to blame in this, Gania--no one else," said Ptitsin.
Gania glanced inquiringly at the speaker.
"It's better so, you know, Gania--especially as, from one point
of view, the matter may be considered as settled," said Ptitsin;
and sitting down a little way from the table he began to study a
paper covered with pencil writing.
Gania stood and frowned, he expected a family scene. He never
thought of apologizing to the prince, however.
"If it's all settled, Gania, then of course Mr. Ptitsin is
right," said Nina Alexandrovna. "Don't frown. You need not worry
yourself, Gania; I shall ask you no questions. You need not tell
me anything you don't like. I assure you I have quite submitted
to your will." She said all this, knitting away the while as
though perfectly calm and composed.
Gania was surprised, but cautiously kept silence and looked at
his mother, hoping that she would express herself more clearly.
Nina Alexandrovna observed his cautiousness and added, with a
bitter smile:
"You are still suspicious, I see, and do not believe me; but you
may be quite at your ease. There shall be no more tears, nor
questions--not from my side, at all events. All I wish is that
you may be happy, you know that. I have submitted to my fate; but
my heart will always be with you, whether we remain united, or
whether we part. Of course I only answer for myself--you can
hardly expect your sister--"
"My sister again," cried Gania, looking at her with contempt and
almost hate. "Look here, mother, I have already given you my word
that I shall always respect you fully and absolutely, and so
shall everyone else in this house, be it who it may, who shall
cross this threshold."
Gania was so much relieved that he gazed at his mother almost
affectionately.
"I was not at all afraid for myself, Gania, as you know well. It
was not for my own sake that I have been so anxious and worried
all this time! They say it is all to be settled to-day. What is
to be settled?"
"She has promised to tell me tonight at her own house whether
she consents or not," replied Gania.
"We have been silent on this subject for three weeks," said his
mother, "and it was better so; and now I will only ask you one
question. How can she give her consent and make you a present of
her portrait when you do not love her? How can such a--such a--"
"Practised hand--eh?"
"I was not going to express myself so. But how could you so blind
her?"
Nina Alexandrovna's question betrayed intense annoyance. Gania
waited a moment and then said, without taking the trouble to
conceal the irony of his tone:
"There you are, mother, you are always like that. You begin by
promising that there are to be no reproaches or insinuations or
questions, and here you are beginning them at once. We had better
drop the subject--we had, really. I shall never leave you,
mother; any other man would cut and run from such a sister as
this. See how she is looking at me at this moment! Besides, how
do you know that I am blinding Nastasia Philipovna? As for Varia,
I don't care--she can do just as she pleases. There, that's quite
enough!"
Gania's irritation increased with every word he uttered, as he
walked up and down the room. These conversations always touched
the family sores before long.
"I have said already that the moment she comes in I go out, and I
shall keep my word," remarked Varia.
"Out of obstinacy" shouted Gania. "You haven't married, either,
thanks to your obstinacy. Oh, you needn't frown at me, Varvara!
You can go at once for all I care; I am sick enough of your
company. What, you are going to leave us are you, too?" he cried,
turning to the prince, who was rising from his chair.
Gania's voice was full of the most uncontrolled and
uncontrollable irritation.
The prince turned at the door to say something, but perceiving in
Gania's expression that there was but that one drop wanting to
make the cup overflow, he changed his mind and left the room
without a word. A few minutes later he was aware from the noisy
voices in the drawing room, that the conversation had become more
quarrelsome than ever after his departure.
He crossed the salon and the entrance-hall, so as to pass down
the corridor into his own room. As he came near the front door he
heard someone outside vainly endeavouring to ring the bell, which
was evidently broken, and only shook a little, without emitting
any sound.
The prince took down the chain and opened the door. He started
back in amazement--for there stood Nastasia Philipovna. He knew
her at once from her photograph. Her eyes blazed with anger as
she looked at him. She quickly pushed by him into the hall,
shouldering him out of her way, and said, furiously, as she threw
off her fur cloak:
"If you are too lazy to mend your bell, you should at least wait
in the hall to let people in when they rattle the bell handle.
There, now, you've dropped my fur cloak--dummy!"
Sure enough the cloak was lying on the ground. Nastasia had
thrown it off her towards the prince, expecting him to catch it,
but the prince had missed it.
"Now then--announce me, quick!"
The prince wanted to say something, but was so confused and
astonished that he could not. However, he moved off towards the
drawing-room with the cloak over his arm.
"Now then, where are you taking my cloak to? Ha, ha, ha! Are you
mad?"
The prince turned and came back, more confused than ever. When
she burst out laughing, he smiled, but his tongue could not form
a word as yet. At first, when he had opened the door and saw her
standing before him, he had become as pale as death; but now the
red blood had rushed back to his cheeks in a torrent.
"Why, what an idiot it is!" cried Nastasia, stamping her foot
with irritation. "Go on, do! Whom are you going to announce?"
"Nastasia Philipovna," murmured the prince.
"And how do you know that?" she asked him, sharply.
"I have never seen you before!"
"Go on, announce me--what's that noise?"
"They are quarrelling," said the prince, and entered the drawing-
room, just as matters in there had almost reached a crisis. Nina
Alexandrovna had forgotten that she had "submitted to
everything!" She was defending Varia. Ptitsin was taking her
part, too. Not that Varia was afraid of standing up for herself.
She was by no means that sort of a girl; but her brother was
becoming ruder and more intolerable every moment. Her usual
practice in such cases as the present was to say nothing, but
stare at him, without taking her eyes off his face for an
instant. This manoeuvre, as she well knew, could drive Gania
distracted.
Just at this moment the door opened and the prince entered,
announcing:
"Nastasia Philipovna!"
