XIV.
"I have no wit, Nastasia Philipovna," began Ferdishenko, "and
therefore I talk too much, perhaps. Were I as witty, now, as Mr.
Totski or the general, I should probably have sat silent all the
evening, as they have. Now, prince, what do you think?--are there
not far more thieves than honest men in this world? Don't you
think we may say there does not exist a single person so honest
that he has never stolen anything whatever in his life?"
"What a silly idea," said the actress. "Of course it is not the
case. I have never stolen anything, for one."
"H'm! very well, Daria Alexeyevna; you have not stolen anything--
agreed. But how about the prince, now--look how he is blushing!"
"I think you are partially right, but you exaggerate," said the
prince, who had certainly blushed up, of a sudden, for some
reason or other.
"Ferdishenko--either tell us your story, or be quiet, and mind
your own business. You exhaust all patience," cuttingly and
irritably remarked Nastasia Philipovna.
"Immediately, immediately! As for my story, gentlemen, it is too
stupid and absurd to tell you.
"I assure you I am not a thief, and yet I have stolen; I cannot
explain why. It was at Semeon Ivanovitch Ishenka's country house,
one Sunday. He had a dinner party. After dinner the men stayed at
the table over their wine. It struck me to ask the daughter of
the house to play something on the piano; so I passed through the
corner room to join the ladies. In that room, on Maria Ivanovna's
writing-table, I observed a three-rouble note. She must have
taken it out for some purpose, and left it lying there. There was
no one about. I took up the note and put it in my pocket; why, I
can't say. I don't know what possessed me to do it, but it was
done, and I went quickly back to the dining-room and reseated
myself at the dinner-table. I sat and waited there in a great
state of excitement. I talked hard, and told lots of stories, and
laughed like mad; then I joined the ladies.
"In half an hour or so the loss was discovered, and the servants
were being put under examination. Daria, the housemaid was
suspected. I exhibited the greatest interest and sympathy, and I
remember that poor Daria quite lost her head, and that I began
assuring her, before everyone, that I would guarantee her
forgiveness on the part of her mistress, if she would confess her
guilt. They all stared at the girl, and I remember a wonderful
attraction in the reflection that here was I sermonizing away,
with the money in my own pocket all the while. I went and spent
the three roubles that very evening at a restaurant. I went in
and asked for a bottle of Lafite, and drank it up; I wanted to be
rid of the money.
"I did not feel much remorse either then or afterwards; but I
would not repeat the performance--believe it or not as you
please. There--that's all."
"Only, of course that's not nearly your worst action," said the
actress, with evident dislike in her face.
"That was a psychological phenomenon, not an action," remarked
Totski.
"And what about the maid?" asked Nastasia Philipovna, with
undisguised contempt.
"Oh, she was turned out next day, of course. It's a very strict
household, there!"
"And you allowed it?"
"I should think so, rather! I was not going to return and confess
next day," laughed Ferdishenko, who seemed a little surprised at
the disagreeable impression which his story had made on all
parties.
"How mean you were!" said Nastasia.
"Bah! you wish to hear a man tell of his worst actions, and you
expect the story to come out goody-goody! One's worst actions
always are mean. We shall see what the general has to say for
himself now. All is not gold that glitters, you know; and because
a man keeps his carriage he need not be specially virtuous, I
assure you, all sorts of people keep carriages. And by what
means?"
In a word, Ferdishenko was very angry and rapidly forgetting
himself; his whole face was drawn with passion. Strange as it may
appear, he had expected much better success for his story. These
little errors of taste on Ferdishenko's part occurred very
frequently. Nastasia trembled with rage, and looked fixedly at
him, whereupon he relapsed into alarmed silence. He realized that
he had gone a little too far.
"Had we not better end this game?" asked Totski.
"It's my turn, but I plead exemption," said Ptitsin.
"You don't care to oblige us?" asked Nastasia.
"I cannot, I assure you. I confess I do not understand how anyone
can play this game."
"Then, general, it's your turn," continued Nastasia Philipovna,
"and if you refuse, the whole game will fall through, which will
disappoint me very much, for I was looking forward to relating a
certain 'page of my own life.' I am only waiting for you and
Afanasy Ivanovitch to have your turns, for I require the support
of your example," she added, smiling.
"Oh, if you put it in that way " cried the general, excitedly,
"I'm ready to tell the whole story of my life, but I must confess
that I prepared a little story in anticipation of my turn."
Nastasia smiled amiably at him; but evidently her depression and
irritability were increasing with every moment. Totski was
dreadfully alarmed to hear her promise a revelation out of her
own life.
"I, like everyone else," began the general, "have committed
certain not altogether graceful actions, so to speak, during the
course of my life. But the strangest thing of all in my case is,
that I should consider the little anecdote which I am now about
to give you as a confession of the worst of my 'bad actions.' It
is thirty-five years since it all happened, and yet I cannot to
this very day recall the circumstances without, as it were, a
sudden pang at the heart.
"It was a silly affair--I was an ensign at the time. You know
ensigns--their blood is boiling water, their circumstances
generally penurious. Well, I had a servant Nikifor who used to do
everything for me in my quarters, economized and managed for me,
and even laid hands on anything he could find (belonging to other
people), in order to augment our household goods; but a faithful,
honest fellow all the same.
"I was strict, but just by nature. At that time we were stationed
in a small town. I was quartered at an old widow's house, a
lieutenant's widow of eighty years of age. She lived in a
wretched little wooden house, and had not even a servant, so poor
was she.
"Her relations had all died off--her husband was dead and buried
forty years since; and a niece, who had lived with her and
bullied her up to three years ago, was dead too; so that she was
quite alone.
"Well, I was precious dull with her, especially as she was so
childish that there was nothing to be got out of her. Eventually,
she stole a fowl of mine; the business is a mystery to this day;
but it could have been no one but herself. I requested to be
quartered somewhere else, and was shifted to the other end of the
town, to the house of a merchant with a large family, and a long
beard, as I remember him. Nikifor and I were delighted to go; but
the old lady was not pleased at our departure.
"Well, a day or two afterwards, when I returned from drill,
Nikifor says to me: 'We oughtn't to have left our tureen with the
old lady, I've nothing to serve the soup in.'
"I asked how it came about that the tureen had been left. Nikifor
explained that the old lady refused to give it up, because, she
said, we had broken her bowl, and she must have our tureen in
place of it; she had declared that I had so arranged the matter
with herself.
"This baseness on her part of course aroused my young blood to
fever heat; I jumped up, and away I flew.
"I arrived at the old woman's house beside myself. She was
sitting in a corner all alone, leaning her face on her hand. I
fell on her like a clap of thunder. 'You old wretch!' I yelled
and all that sort of thing, in real Russian style. Well, when I
began cursing at her, a strange thing happened. I looked at her,
and she stared back with her eyes starting out of her head, but
she did not say a word. She seemed to sway about as she sat, and
looked and looked at me in the strangest way. Well, I soon
stopped swearing and looked closer at her, asked her questions,
but not a word could I get out of her. The flies were buzzing
about the room and only this sound broke the silence; the sun was
setting outside; I didn't know what to make of it, so I went
away.
"Before I reached home I was met and summoned to the major's, so
that it was some while before I actually got there. When I came
in, Nikifor met me. 'Have you heard, sir, that our old lady is
dead?' 'DEAD, when?' 'Oh, an hour and a half ago.' That meant
nothing more nor less than that she was dying at the moment when
I pounced on her and began abusing her.
"This produced a great effect upon me. I used to dream of the
poor old woman at nights. I really am not superstitious, but two
days after, I went to her funeral, and as time went on I thought
more and more about her. I said to myself, 'This woman, this
human being, lived to a great age. She had children, a husband
and family, friends and relations; her household was busy and
cheerful; she was surrounded by smiling faces; and then suddenly
they are gone, and she is left alone like a solitary fly ... like
a fly, cursed with the burden of her age. At last, God calls her
to Himself. At sunset, on a lovely summer's evening, my little
old woman passes away--a thought, you will notice, which offers
much food for reflection--and behold! instead of tears and
prayers to start her on her last journey, she has insults and
jeers from a young ensign, who stands before her with his hands
in his pockets, making a terrible row about a soup tureen!' Of
course I was to blame, and even now that I have time to look back
at it calmly, I pity the poor old thing no less. I repeat that I
wonder at myself, for after all I was not really responsible. Why
did she take it into her head to die at that moment? But the more
I thought of it, the more I felt the weight of it upon my mind;
and I never got quite rid of the impression until I put a couple
of old women into an almshouse and kept them there at my own
expense. There, that's all. I repeat I dare say I have committed
many a grievous sin in my day; but I cannot help always looking
back upon this as the worst action I have ever perpetrated."
"H'm! and instead of a bad action, your excellency has detailed
one of your noblest deeds," said Ferdishenko. "Ferdishenko is
'done.'"
"Dear me, general," said Nastasia Philipovna, absently, "I really
never imagined you had such a good heart."
The general laughed with great satisfaction, and applied himself
once more to the champagne.
It was now Totski's turn, and his story was awaited with great
curiosity--while all eyes turned on Nastasia Philipovna, as
though anticipating that his revelation must be connected somehow
with her. Nastasia, during the whole of his story, pulled at the
lace trimming of her sleeve, and never once glanced at the
speaker. Totski was a handsome man, rather stout, with a very
polite and dignified manner. He was always well dressed, and his
linen was exquisite. He had plump white hands, and wore a
magnificent diamond ring on one finger.
"What simplifies the duty before me considerably, in my opinion,"
he began, "is that I am bound to recall and relate the very worst
action of my life. In such circumstances there can, of course, be
no doubt. One's conscience very soon informs one what is the
proper narrative to tell. I admit, that among the many silly and
thoughtless actions of my life, the memory of one comes
prominently forward and reminds me that it lay long like a stone
on my heart. Some twenty years since, I paid a visit to Platon
Ordintzeff at his country-house. He had just been elected marshal
of the nobility, and had come there with his young wife for the
winter holidays. Anfisa Alexeyevna's birthday came off just then,
too, and there were two balls arranged. At that time Dumas-fils'
beautiful work, La Dame aux Camelias--a novel which I consider
imperishable--had just come into fashion. In the provinces all the
ladies were in raptures over it, those who had read it, at least.
Camellias were all the fashion. Everyone inquired for them,
everybody wanted them; and a grand lot of camellias are to be got
in a country town--as you all know--and two balls to provide for!
"Poor Peter Volhofskoi was desperately in love with Anfisa
Alexeyevna. I don't know whether there was anything--I mean I
don't know whether he could possibly have indulged in any hope.
The poor fellow was beside himself to get her a bouquet of
camellias. Countess Sotski and Sophia Bespalova, as everyone
knew, were coming with white camellia bouquets. Anfisa wished for
red ones, for effect. Well, her husband Platon was driven
desperate to find some. And the day before the ball, Anfisa's
rival snapped up the only red camellias to be had in the place,
from under Platon's nose, and Platon--wretched man--was done for.
Now if Peter had only been able to step in at this moment with a
red bouquet, his little hopes might have made gigantic strides. A
woman's gratitude under such circumstances would have been
boundless--but it was practically an impossibility.
"The night before the ball I met Peter, looking radiant. 'What is
it?' I ask. 'I've found them, Eureka!" 'No! where, where?' 'At
Ekshaisk (a little town fifteen miles off) there's a rich old
merchant, who keeps a lot of canaries, has no children, and he
and his wife are devoted to flowers. He's got some camellias.'
'And what if he won't let you have them?' 'I'll go on my knees
and implore till I get them. I won't go away.' 'When shall you
start?' 'Tomorrow morning at five o'clock.' 'Go on,' I said,
'and good luck to you.'
"I was glad for the poor fellow, and went home. But an idea got
hold of me somehow. I don't know how. It was nearly two in the
morning. I rang the bell and ordered the coachman to be waked up
and sent to me. He came. I gave him a tip of fifteen roubles, and
told him to get the carriage ready at once. In half an hour it
was at the door. I got in and off we went.
"By five I drew up at the Ekshaisky inn. I waited there till
dawn, and soon after six I was off, and at the old merchant
Trepalaf's.
"'Camellias!' I said, 'father, save me, save me, let me have some
camellias!' He was a tall, grey old man--a terrible-looking old
gentleman. 'Not a bit of it,' he says. 'I won't.' Down I went on
my knees. 'Don't say so, don't--think what you're doing!' I
cried; 'it's a matter of life and death!' 'If that's the case,
take them,' says he. So up I get, and cut such a bouquet of red
camellias! He had a whole greenhouse full of them--lovely ones.
The old fellow sighs. I pull out a hundred roubles. 'No, no!'
says he, 'don't insult me that way.' 'Oh, if that's the case,
give it to the village hospital,' I say. 'Ah,' he says, 'that's
quite a different matter; that's good of you and generous. I'll
pay it in there for you with pleasure.' I liked that old fellow,
Russian to the core, de la vraie souche. I went home in raptures,
but took another road in order to avoid Peter. Immediately on
arriving I sent up the bouquet for Anfisa to see when she awoke.
"You may imagine her ecstasy, her gratitude. The wretched Platon,
who had almost died since yesterday of the reproaches showered
upon him, wept on my shoulder. Of course poor Peter had no chance
after this.
"I thought he would cut my throat at first, and went about armed
ready to meet him. But he took it differently; he fainted, and
had brain fever and convulsions. A month after, when he had
hardly recovered, he went off to the Crimea, and there he was
shot.
"I assure you this business left me no peace for many a long
year. Why did I do it? I was not in love with her myself; I'm
afraid it was simply mischief--pure 'cussedness' on my part.
"If I hadn't seized that bouquet from under his nose he might
have been alive now, and a happy man. He might have been
successful in life, and never have gone to fight the Turks."
Totski ended his tale with the same dignity that had
characterized its commencement.
Nastasia Philipovna's eyes were flashing in a most unmistakable
way, now; and her lips were all a-quiver by the time Totski
finished his story.
All present watched both of them with curiosity.
"You were right, Totski," said Nastasia, "it is a dull game and a
stupid one. I'll just tell my story, as I promised, and then
we'll play cards."
"Yes, but let's have the story first!" cried the general.
"Prince," said Nastasia Philipovna, unexpectedly turning to
Muishkin, "here are my old friends, Totski and General Epanchin,
who wish to marry me off. Tell me what you think. Shall I marry
or not? As you decide, so shall it be."
Totski grew white as a sheet. The general was struck dumb. All
present started and listened intently. Gania sat rooted to his
chair.
"Marry whom?" asked the prince, faintly.
"Gavrila Ardalionovitch Ivolgin," said Nastasia, firmly and
evenly.
There were a few seconds of dead silence.
The prince tried to speak, but could not form his words; a great
weight seemed to lie upon his breast and suffocate him.
"N-no! don't marry him!" he whispered at last, drawing his breath
with an effort.
"So be it, then. Gavrila Ardalionovitch," she spoke solemnly and
forcibly, "you hear the prince's decision? Take it as my
decision; and let that be the end of the matter for good and
all."
"Nastasia Philipovna!" cried Totski, in a quaking voice.
"Nastasia Philipovna!" said the general, in persuasive but
agitated tones.
Everyone in the room fidgeted in their places, and waited to see
what was coming next.
"Well, gentlemen!" she continued, gazing around in apparent
astonishment; "what do you all look so alarmed about? Why are you
so upset?"
"But--recollect, Nastasia Philipovna." stammered Totski, "you
gave a promise, quite a free one, and--and you might have spared
us this. I am confused and bewildered, I know; but, in a word, at
such a moment, and before company, and all so-so-irregular,
finishing off a game with a serious matter like this, a matter of
honour, and of heart, and--"
"I don't follow you, Afanasy Ivanovitch; you are losing your
head. In the first place, what do you mean by 'before company'?
Isn't the company good enough for you? And what's all that about
'a game'? I wished to tell my little story, and I told it! Don't
you like it? You heard what I said to the prince? 'As you decide,
so it shall be!' If he had said 'yes,' I should have given my
consent! But he said 'no,' so I refused. Here was my whole life
hanging on his one word! Surely I was serious enough?"
"The prince! What on earth has the prince got to do with it? Who
the deuce is the prince?" cried the general, who could conceal
his wrath no longer.
"The prince has this to do with it--that I see in him. for the
first time in all my life, a man endowed with real truthfulness
of spirit, and I trust him. He trusted me at first sight, and I
trust him!"
"It only remains for me, then, to thank Nastasia Philipovna for
the great delicacy with which she has treated me," said Gania, as
pale as death, and with quivering lips. "That is my plain duty,
of course; but the prince--what has he to do in the matter?"
"I see what you are driving at," said Nastasia Philipovna. "You
imply that the prince is after the seventy-five thousand roubles
--I quite understand you. Mr. Totski, I forgot to say, 'Take your
seventy-five thousand roubles'--I don't want them. I let you go
free for nothing take your freedom! You must need it. Nine years
and three months' captivity is enough for anybody. Tomorrow I
shall start afresh--today I am a free agent for the first time in
my life.
"General, you must take your pearls back, too--give them to your
wife--here they are! Tomorrow I shall leave this flat altogether,
and then there'll be no more of these pleasant little social
gatherings, ladies and gentlemen."
So saying, she scornfully rose from her seat as though to depart.
"Nastasia Philipovna! Nastasia Philipovna!"
The words burst involuntarily from every mouth. All present
started up in bewildered excitement; all surrounded her; all had
listened uneasily to her wild, disconnected sentences. All felt
that something had happened, something had gone very far wrong
indeed, but no one could make head or tail of the matter.
At this moment there was a furious ring at the bell, and a great
knock at the door--exactly similar to the one which had startled
the company at Gania's house in the afternoon.
"Ah, ah! here's the climax at last, at half-past twelve!" cried
Nastasia Philipovna. "Sit down, gentlemen, I beg you. Something
is about to happen."
So saying, she reseated herself; a strange smile played on her
lips. She sat quite still, but watched the door in a fever of
impatience.
"Rogojin and his hundred thousand roubles, no doubt of it,"
muttered Ptitsin to himself.
