IX.
A FORTNIGHT had passed since the events recorded in the last
chapter, and the position of the actors in our story had become
so changed that it is almost impossible for us to continue the
tale without some few explanations. Yet we feel that we ought to
limit ourselves to the simple record of facts, without much
attempt at explanation, for a very patent reason: because we
ourselves have the greatest possible difficulty in accounting for
the facts to be recorded. Such a statement on our part may appear
strange to the reader. How is anyone to tell a story which he
cannot understand himself? In order to keep clear of a false
position, we had perhaps better give an example of what we mean;
and probably the intelligent reader will soon understand the
difficulty. More especially are we inclined to take this course
since the example will constitute a distinct march forward of our
story, and will not hinder the progress of the events remaining
to be recorded.
During the next fortnight--that is, through the early part of
July--the history of our hero was circulated in the form of
strange, diverting, most unlikely-sounding stories, which passed
from mouth to mouth, through the streets and villas adjoining
those inhabited by Lebedeff, Ptitsin, Nastasia Philipovna and the
Epanchins; in fact, pretty well through the whole town and its
environs. All society--both the inhabitants of the place and
those who came down of an evening for the music--had got hold of
one and the same story, in a thousand varieties of detail--as to
how a certain young prince had raised a terrible scandal in a
most respectable household, had thrown over a daughter of the
family, to whom he was engaged, and had been captured by a woman
of shady reputation whom he was determined to marry at once--
breaking off all old ties for the satisfaction of his insane
idea; and, in spite of the public indignation roused by his
action, the marriage was to take place in Pavlofsk openly and
publicly, and the prince had announced his intention of going
through with it with head erect and looking the whole world in
the face. The story was so artfully adorned with scandalous
details, and persons of so great eminence and importance were
apparently mixed up in it, while, at the same time, the evidence
was so circumstantial, that it was no wonder the matter gave food
for plenty of curiosity and gossip.
According to the reports of the most talented gossip-mongers--
those who, in every class of society, are always in haste to
explain every event to their neighbours--the young gentleman
concerned was of good family--a prince--fairly rich--weak of
intellect, but a democrat and a dabbler in the Nihilism of the
period, as exposed by Mr. Turgenieff. He could hardly talk
Russian, but had fallen in love with one of the Miss Epanchins,
and his suit met with so much encouragement that he had been
received in the house as the recognized bridegroom-to-be of the
young lady. But like the Frenchman of whom the story is told that
he studied for holy orders, took all the oaths, was ordained
priest, and next morning wrote to his bishop informing him that,
as he did not believe in God and considered it wrong to deceive
the people and live upon their pockets, he begged to surrender
the orders conferred upon him the day before, and to inform his
lordship that he was sending this letter to the public press,--
like this Frenchman, the prince played a false game. It was
rumoured that he had purposely waited for the solemn occasion of
a large evening party at the house of his future bride, at which
he was introduced to several eminent persons, in order publicly
to make known his ideas and opinions, and thereby insult the
"big-wigs," and to throw over his bride as offensively as
possible; and that, resisting the servants who were told off to
turn him out of the house, he had seized and thrown down a
magnificent china vase. As a characteristic addition to the
above, it was currently reported that the young prince really
loved the lady to whom he was engaged, and had thrown her over
out of purely Nihilistic motives, with the intention of giving
himself the satisfaction of marrying a fallen woman in the face
of all the world, thereby publishing his opinion that there is no
distinction between virtuous and disreputable women, but that all
women are alike, free; and a "fallen" woman, indeed, somewhat
superior to a virtuous one.
It was declared that he believed in no classes or anything else,
excepting "the woman question."
All this looked likely enough, and was accepted as fact by most
of the inhabitants of the place, especially as it was borne out,
more or less, by daily occurrences.
Of course much was said that could not be determined absolutely.
For instance, it was reported that the poor girl had so loved her
future husband that she had followed him to the house of the
other woman, the day after she had been thrown over; others said
that he had insisted on her coming, himself, in order to shame
and insult her by his taunts and Nihilistic confessions when she
reached the house. However all these things might be, the public
interest in the matter grew daily, especially as it became clear
that the scandalous wedding was undoubtedly to take place.
So that if our readers were to ask an explanation, not of the
wild reports about the prince's Nihilistic opinions, but simply
as to how such a marriage could possibly satisfy his real
aspirations, or as to the spiritual condition of our hero at this
time, we confess that we should have great difficulty in giving
the required information.
All we know is, that the marriage really was arranged, and that
the prince had commissioned Lebedeff and Keller to look after all
the necessary business connected with it; that he had requested
them to spare no expense; that Nastasia herself was hurrying on
the wedding; that Keller was to be the prince's best man, at his
own earnest request; and that Burdovsky was to give Nastasia
away, to his great delight. The wedding was to take place before
the middle of July.
But, besides the above, we are cognizant of certain other
undoubted facts, which puzzle us a good deal because they seem
flatly to contradict the foregoing.
We suspect, for instance, that having commissioned Lebedeff and
the others, as above, the prince immediately forgot all about
masters of ceremonies and even the ceremony itself; and we feel
quite certain that in making these arrangements he did so in
order that he might absolutely escape all thought of the wedding,
and even forget its approach if he could, by detailing all
business concerning it to others.
What did he think of all this time, then? What did he wish for?
There is no doubt that he was a perfectly free agent all through,
and that as far as Nastasia was concerned, there was no force of
any kind brought to bear on him. Nastasia wished for a speedy
marriage, true!--but the prince agreed at once to her proposals;
he agreed, in fact, so casually that anyone might suppose he was
but acceding to the most simple and ordinary suggestion.
There are many strange circumstances such as this before us; but
in our opinion they do but deepen the mystery, and do not in the
smallest degree help us to understand the case.
However, let us take one more example. Thus, we know for a fact
that during the whole of this fortnight the prince spent all his
days and evenings with Nastasia; he walked with her, drove with
her; he began to be restless whenever he passed an hour without
seeing her--in fact, to all appearances, he sincerely loved her.
He would listen to her for hours at a time with a quiet smile on
his face, scarcely saying a word himself. And yet we know,
equally certainly, that during this period he several times set
off, suddenly, to the Epanchins', not concealing the fact from
Nastasia Philipovna, and driving the latter to absolute despair.
We know also that he was not received at the Epanchins' so long
as they remained at Pavlofsk, and that he was not allowed an
interview with Aglaya;--but next day he would set off once more
on the same errand, apparently quite oblivious of the fact of
yesterday's visit having been a failure,--and, of course, meeting
with another refusal. We know, too, that exactly an hour after
Aglaya had fled from Nastasia Philipovna's house on that fateful
evening, the prince was at the Epanchins',--and that his
appearance there had been the cause of the greatest consternation
and dismay; for Aglaya had not been home, and the family only
discovered then, for the first time, that the two of them had
been to Nastasia's house together.
It was said that Elizabetha Prokofievna and her daughters had
there and then denounced the prince in the strongest terms, and
had refused any further acquaintance and friendship with him;
their rage and denunciations being redoubled when Varia
Ardalionovna suddenly arrived and stated that Aglaya had been at
her house in a terrible state of mind for the last hour, and that
she refused to come home.
This last item of news, which disturbed Lizabetha Prokofievna
more than anything else, was perfectly true. On leaving
Nastasia's, Aglaya had felt that she would rather die than face
her people, and had therefore gone straight to Nina
Alexandrovna's. On receiving the news, Lizabetha and her
daughters and the general all rushed off to Aglaya, followed by
Prince Lef Nicolaievitch--undeterred by his recent dismissal; but
through Varia he was refused a sight of Aglaya here also. The end
of the episode was that when Aglaya saw her mother and sisters
crying over her and not uttering a word of reproach, she had
flung herself into their arms and gone straight home with them.
It was said that Gania managed to make a fool of himself even on
this occasion; for, finding himself alone with Aglaya for a
minute or two when Varia had gone to the Epanchins', he had
thought it a fitting opportunity to make a declaration of his
love, and on hearing this Aglaya, in spite of her state of mind
at the time, had suddenly burst out laughing, and had put a
strange question to him. She asked him whether he would consent
to hold his finger to a lighted candle in proof of his devotion!
Gania--it was said--looked so comically bewildered that Aglaya
had almost laughed herself into hysterics, and had rushed out of
the room and upstairs,--where her parents had found her.
Hippolyte told the prince this last story, sending for him on
purpose. When Muishkin heard about the candle and Gania's finger
he had laughed so that he had quite astonished Hippolyte,--and
then shuddered and burst into tears. The prince's condition
during those days was strange and perturbed. Hippolyte plainly
declared that he thought he was out of his mind;--this, however,
was hardly to be relied upon.
Offering all these facts to our readers and refusing to explain
them, we do not for a moment desire to justify our hero's
conduct. On the contrary, we are quite prepared to feel our share
of the indignation which his behaviour aroused in the hearts of
his friends. Even Vera Lebedeff was angry with him for a while;
so was Colia; so was Keller, until he was selected for best man;
so was Lebedeff himself,--who began to intrigue against him out
of pure irritation;--but of this anon. In fact we are in full
accord with certain forcible words spoken to the prince by
Evgenie Pavlovitch, quite unceremoniously, during the course of a
friendly conversation, six or seven days after the events at
Nastasia Philipovna's house.
We may remark here that not only the Epanchins themselves, but
all who had anything to do with them, thought it right to break
with the prince in consequence of his conduct. Prince S. even
went so far as to turn away and cut him dead in the street. But
Evgenie Pavlovitch was not afraid to compromise himself by paying
the prince a visit, and did so, in spite of the fact that he had
recommenced to visit at the Epanchins', where he was received
with redoubled hospitality and kindness after the temporary
estrangement.
Evgenie called upon the prince the day after that on which the
Epanchins left Pavlofsk. He knew of all the current rumours,--in
fact, he had probably contributed to them himself. The prince was
delighted to see him, and immediately began to speak of the
Epanchins;--which simple and straightforward opening quite took
Evgenie's fancy, so that he melted at once, and plunged in medias
res without ceremony.
The prince did not know, up to this, that the Epanchins had left
the place. He grew very pale on hearing the news; but a moment
later he nodded his head, and said thoughtfully:
"I knew it was bound to be so." Then he added quickly:
"Where have they gone to?"
Evgenie meanwhile observed him attentively, and the rapidity of
the questions, their, simplicity, the prince's candour, and at
the same time, his evident perplexity and mental agitation,
surprised him considerably. However, he told Muishkin all he
could, kindly and in detail. The prince hardly knew anything, for
this was the first informant from the household whom he had met
since the estrangement.
Evgenie reported that Aglaya had been really ill, and that for
two nights she had not slept at all, owing to high fever; that
now she was better and out of serious danger, but still in a
nervous, hysterical state.
"It's a good thing that there is peace in the house, at all
events," he continued. "They never utter a hint about the past,
not only in Aglaya's presence, but even among themselves. The old
people are talking of a trip abroad in the autumn, immediately
after Adelaida's wedding; Aglaya received the news in silence."
Evgenie himself was very likely going abroad also; so were Prince
S. and his wife, if affairs allowed of it; the general was to
stay at home. They were all at their estate of Colmina now, about
twenty miles or so from St. Petersburg. Princess Bielokonski had
not returned to Moscow yet, and was apparently staying on for
reasons of her own. Lizabetha Prokofievna had insisted that it
was quite impossible to remain in Pavlofsk after what had
happened. Evgenie had told her of all the rumours current in town
about the affair; so that there could be no talk of their going
to their house on the Yelagin as yet.
"And in point of fact, prince," added Evgenie Pavlovitch, "you
must allow that they could hardly have stayed here, considering
that they knew of all that went on at your place, and in the face
of your daily visits to their house, visits which you insisted
upon making in spite of their refusal to see you."
"Yes--yes, quite so; you are quite right. I wished to see Aglaya
Ivanovna, you know!" said the prince, nodding his head.
"Oh, my dear fellow," cried Evgenie, warmly, with real sorrow in
his voice, "how could you permit all that to come about as it
has? Of course, of course, I know it was all so unexpected. I
admit that you, only naturally, lost your head, and--and could
not stop the foolish girl; that was not in your power. I quite
see so much; but you really should have understood how seriously
she cared for you. She could not bear to share you with another;
and you could bring yourself to throw away and shatter such a
treasure! Oh, prince, prince!"
"Yes, yes, you are quite right again," said the poor prince, in
anguish of mind. "I was wrong, I know. But it was only Aglaya who
looked on Nastasia Philipovna so; no one else did, you know."
"But that's just the worst of it all, don't you see, that there
was absolutely nothing serious about the matter in reality!"
cried Evgenie, beside himself: "Excuse me, prince, but I have
thought over all this; I have thought a great deal over it; I
know all that had happened before; I know all that took place six
months since; and I know there was NOTHING serious about the
matter, it was but fancy, smoke, fantasy, distorted by agitation,
and only the alarmed jealousy of an absolutely inexperienced girl
could possibly have mistaken it for serious reality."
Here Evgenie Pavlovitch quite let himself go, and gave the reins
to his indignation.
Clearly and reasonably, and with great psychological insight, he
drew a picture of the prince's past relations with Nastasia
Philipovna. Evgenie Pavlovitch always had a ready tongue, but on
this occasion his eloquence, surprised himself. "From the very
beginning," he said, "you began with a lie; what began with a lie
was bound to end with a lie; such is the law of nature. I do not
agree, in fact I am angry, when I hear you called an idiot; you
are far too intelligent to deserve such an epithet; but you are
so far STRANGE as to be unlike others; that you must allow,
yourself. Now, I have come to the conclusion that the basis of
all that has happened, has been first of all your innate
inexperience (remark the expression 'innate,' prince). Then
follows your unheard-of simplicity of heart; then comes your
absolute want of sense of proportion (to this want you have
several times confessed); and lastly, a mass, an accumulation, of
intellectual convictions which you, in your unexampled honesty of
soul, accept unquestionably as also innate and natural and true.
Admit, prince, that in your relations with Nastasia Philipovna
there has existed, from the very first, something democratic, and
the fascination, so to speak, of the 'woman question'? I know all
about that scandalous scene at Nastasia Philipovna's house when
Rogojin brought the money, six months ago. I'll show you yourself
as in a looking-glass, if you like. I know exactly all that went
on, in every detail, and why things have turned out as they have.
You thirsted, while in Switzerland, for your home-country, for
Russia; you read, doubtless, many books about Russia, excellent
books, I dare say, but hurtful to YOU; and you arrived here; as
it were, on fire with the longing to be of service. Then, on the
very day of your arrival, they tell you a sad story of an ill-
used woman; they tell YOU, a knight, pure and without reproach,
this tale of a poor woman! The same day you actually SEE her; you
are attracted by her beauty, her fantastic, almost demoniacal,
beauty--(I admit her beauty, of course).
"Add to all this your nervous nature, your epilepsy, and your
sudden arrival in a strange town--the day of meetings and of
exciting scenes, the day of unexpected acquaintanceships, the day
of sudden actions, the day of meeting with the three lovely
Epanchin girls, and among them Aglaya--add your fatigue, your
excitement; add Nastasia' s evening party, and the tone of that
party, and--what were you to expect of yourself at such a moment
as that?"
"Yes, yes, yes!" said the prince, once more, nodding his head,
and blushing slightly. "Yes, it was so, or nearly so--I know it.
And besides, you see, I had not slept the night before, in the
train, or the night before that, either, and I was very tired."
"Of course, of course, quite so; that's what I am driving at!"
continued Evgenie, excitedly. "It is as clear as possible, and
most comprehensible, that you, in your enthusiasm, should plunge
headlong into the first chance that came of publicly airing your
great idea that you, a prince, and a pure-living man, did not
consider a woman disgraced if the sin were not her own, but that
of a disgusting social libertine! Oh, heavens! it's
comprehensible enough, my dear prince, but that is not the
question, unfortunately! The question is, was there any reality
and truth in your feelings? Was it nature, or nothing but
intellectual enthusiasm? What do you think yourself? We are told,
of course, that a far worse woman was FORGIVEN, but we don't find
that she was told that she had done well, or that she was worthy
of honour and respect! Did not your common-sense show you what
was the real state of the case, a few months later? The question
is now, not whether she is an innocent woman (I do not insist one
way or the other--I do not wish to); but can her whole career
justify such intolerable pride, such insolent, rapacious egotism
as she has shown? Forgive me, I am too violent, perhaps, but--"
"Yes--I dare say it is all as you say; I dare say you are quite
right," muttered the prince once more. "She is very sensitive and
easily put out, of course; but still, she..."
"She is worthy of sympathy? Is that what you wished to say, my
good fellow? But then, for the mere sake of vindicating her
worthiness of sympathy, you should not have insulted and offended
a noble and generous girl in her presence! This is a terrible
exaggeration of sympathy! How can you love a girl, and yet so
humiliate her as to throw her over for the sake of another woman,
before the very eyes of that other woman, when you have already
made her a formal proposal of marriage? And you DID propose to
her, you know; you did so before her parents and sisters. Can you
be an honest man, prince, if you act so? I ask you! And did you
not deceive that beautiful girl when you assured her of your
love?"
"Yes, you are quite right. Oh! I feel that I am very guilty!"
said Muishkin, in deepest distress.
"But as if that is enough!" cried Evgenie, indignantly. "As if it
is enough simply to say: 'I know I am very guilty!' You are to
blame, and yet you persevere in evil-doing. Where was your heart,
I should like to know, your CHRISTIAN HEART, all that time? Did
she look as though she were suffering less, at that moment? You
saw her face--was she suffering less than the other woman? How
could you see her suffering and allow it to continue? How could
you?"
"But I did not allow it," murmured the wretched prince.
"How--what do you mean you didn't allow?"
"Upon my word, I didn't! To this moment I don't know how it all
happened. I--I ran after Aglaya Ivanovna, but Nastasia Philipovna
fell down in a faint; and since that day they won't let me see
Aglaya--that's all I know."
"It's all the same; you ought to have run after Aglaya though the
other was fainting."
"Yes, yes, I ought--but I couldn't! She would have died--she
would have killed herself. You don't know her; and I should have
told Aglaya everything afterwards--but I see, Evgenie Pavlovitch,
you don't know all. Tell me now, why am I not allowed to see
Aglaya? I should have cleared it all up, you know. Neither
of them kept to the real point, you see. I could never explain
what I mean to you, but I think I could to Aglaya. Oh! my God, my
God! You spoke just now of Aglaya's face at the moment when she
ran away. Oh, my God! I remember it! Come along, come along--
quick!" He pulled at Evgenie's coat-sleeve nervously and
excitedly, and rose from his chair.
"Where to?"
"Come to Aglaya--quick, quick!"
"But I told you she is not at Pavlofsk. And what would be the use
if she were?"
"Oh, she'll understand, she'll understand!" cried the prince,
clasping his hands. "She would understand that all this is not
the point--not a bit the real point--it is quite foreign to the
real question."
"How can it be foreign? You ARE going to be married, are you not?
Very well, then you are persisting in your course. ARE you going
to marry her or not?"
"Yes, I shall marry her--yes."
"Then why is it 'not the point'?"
"Oh, no, it is not the point, not a bit. It makes no difference,
my marrying her--it means nothing."
"How 'means nothing'? You are talking nonsense, my friend. You
are marrying the woman you love in order to secure her happiness,
and Aglaya sees and knows it. How can you say that it's 'not the
point'?"
"Her happiness? Oh, no! I am only marrying her--well, because she
wished it. It means nothing--it's all the same. She would
certainly have died. I see now that that marriage with Rogojin
was an insane idea. I understand all now that I did not
understand before; and, do you know, when those two stood
opposite to one another, I could not bear Nastasia Philipovna's
face! You must know, Evgenie Pavlovitch, I have never told anyone
before--not even Aglaya--that I cannot bear Nastasia Philipovna's
face." (He lowered his voice mysteriously as he said this.) You
described that evening at Nastasia Philipovna's (six months
since) very accurately just now; but there is one thing which you
did not mention, and of which you took no account, because you do
not know. I mean her FACE--I looked at her face, you see. Even in
the morning when I saw her portrait, I felt that I could not BEAR
to look at it. Now, there's Vera Lebedeff, for instance, her eyes
are quite different, you know. I'm AFRAID of her face!" he added,
with real alarm.
"You are AFRAID of it?"
"Yes--she's mad!" he whispered, growing pale.
"Do you know this for certain?" asked Evgenie, with the greatest
curiosity.
"Yes, for certain--quite for certain, now! I have discovered it
ABSOLUTELY for certain, these last few days."
"What are you doing, then?" cried Evgenie, in horror. "You must
be marrying her solely out of FEAR, then! I can't make head or
tail of it, prince. Perhaps you don't even love her?"
"Oh, no; I love her with all my soul. Why, she is a child! She's
a child now--a real child. Oh! you know nothing about it at all,
I see."
"And are you assured, at the same time, that you love Aglaya
too?"
"Yes--yes--oh; yes!"
"How so? Do you want to make out that you love them BOTH?"
"Yes--yes--both! I do!"
"Excuse me, prince, but think what you are saying! Recollect
yourself!"
"Without Aglaya--I--I MUST see Aglaya!--I shall die in my sleep
very soon--I thought I was dying in my sleep last night. Oh! if
Aglaya only knew all--I mean really, REALLY all! Because she must
know ALL--that's the first condition towards understanding. Why
cannot we ever know all about another, especially when that other
has been guilty? But I don't know what I'm talking about--I'm so
confused. You pained me so dreadfully. Surely--surely Aglaya has
not the same expression now as she had at the moment when she ran
away? Oh, yes! I am guilty and I know it--I know it! Probably I
am in fault all round--I don't quite know how--but I am in fault,
no doubt. There is something else, but I cannot explain it to
you, Evgenie Pavlovitch. I have no words; but Aglaya will
understand. I have always believed Aglaya will understand--I am
assured she will."
"No, prince, she will not. Aglaya loved like a woman, like a
human being, not like an abstract spirit. Do you know what, my
poor prince? The most probable explanation of the matter is that
you never loved either the one or the other in reality."
"I don't know--perhaps you are right in much that you have said,
Evgenie Pavlovitch. You are very wise, Evgenie Pavlovitch--oh!
how my head is beginning to ache again! Come to her, quick--for
God's sake, come!"
"But I tell you she is not in Pavlofsk! She's in Colmina."
"Oh, come to Colmina, then! Come--let us go at once!"
"No--no, impossible!" said Evgenie, rising.
"Look here--I'll write a letter--take a letter for me!"
"No--no, prince; you must forgive me, but I can't undertake any
such commissions! I really can't."
And so they parted.
Evgenie Pavlovitch left the house with strange convictions. He,
too, felt that the prince must be out of his mind.
"And what did he mean by that FACE--a face which he so fears, and
yet so loves? And meanwhile he really may die, as he says,
without seeing Aglaya, and she will never know how devotedly he
loves her! Ha, ha, ha! How does the fellow manage to love two of
them? Two different kinds of love, I suppose! This is very
interesting--poor idiot! What on earth will become of him now?"
