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The neighbours undoubtedly did hear. Varia rushed out of the room.
The prince took it from her hand, but gazed at her in bewilderment.
“Marriage covers everything,” observed a third.

“Come along,” said Aglaya. “Prince, you must walk with me. May he, mother? This
young cavalier, who won’t have me? You said you would _never_ have me, didn’t
you, prince? No--no, not like that; _that’s_ not the way to give your arm. Don’t
you know how to give your arm to a lady yet? There--so. Now, come along, you and
I will lead the way. Would you like to lead the way with me alone, tête-à-tête?”

“Prince,” he began again, “they are rather angry with me, in there, owing to a
circumstance which I need not explain, so that I do not care to go in at present
without an invitation. I particularly wish to speak to Aglaya, but I have
written a few words in case I shall not have the chance of seeing her” (here the
prince observed a small note in his hand), “and I do not know how to get my
communication to her. Don’t you think you could undertake to give it to her at
once, but only to her, mind, and so that no one else should see you give it? It
isn’t much of a secret, but still--Well, will you do it?”
“If that is true,” said he, “I have been deceived, grossly deceived, but not by
Tchebaroff: and for a long time past, a long time. I do not wish for experts,
not I, nor to go to see you. I believe you. I give it up.... But I refuse the
ten thousand roubles. Good-bye.”

“Don’t come with me,” she cried, “_Au revoir_, till the evening--do you hear?
_Au revoir!_”

Observing the prince, whom she evidently did not expect to see there, alone in
the corner, she smiled, and approached him:

Colia was occupied with his father at this time. The old man died during a
second stroke, which took place just eight days after the first. The prince
showed great sympathy in the grief of the family, and during the first days of
their mourning he was at the house a great deal with Nina Alexandrovna. He went
to the funeral, and it was observable that the public assembled in church
greeted his arrival and departure with whisperings, and watched him closely.
“And he won’t go away!” cried Lebedeff. “He has installed himself here, and here
he remains!”

“Quite so, quite so. I only asked for information--excuse the question. Go on.”

“Oh, but it’s only the simple tale of an old soldier who saw the French enter
Moscow. Some of his remarks were wonderfully interesting. Remarks of an
eye-witness are always valuable, whoever he be, don’t you think so?”

“Yes, what is it?” asked others. The packet sealed with red wax seemed to
attract everyone, as though it were a magnet.

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.
“I cannot, I assure you. I confess I do not understand how anyone can play this
game.”
“There was no Eropegoff? Eroshka Eropegoff?” he cried, suddenly, stopping in the
road in a frenzy. “No Eropegoff! And my own son to say it! Eropegoff was in the
place of a brother to me for eleven months. I fought a duel for him. He was
married afterwards, and then killed on the field of battle. The bullet struck
the cross on my breast and glanced off straight into his temple. ‘I’ll never
forget you,’ he cried, and expired. I served my country well and honestly,
Colia, but shame, shame has pursued me! You and Nina will come to my grave,
Colia; poor Nina, I always used to call her Nina in the old days, and how she
loved.... Nina, Nina, oh, Nina. What have I ever done to deserve your
forgiveness and long-suffering? Oh, Colia, your mother has an angelic spirit, an
angelic spirit, Colia!”“Well?” said Mrs. Epanchin angrily, surprised at his
tone; “well, what more?”“He turns people out of a house that isn’t his own,”
muttered Rogojin.“No, no; it’s all right, come in,” said Parfen, recollecting
himself.“Well, how anybody can call you an idiot after that, is more than I can
understand!” cried the boxer.“Very well, gentlemen--very well,” replied the
prince. “At first I received the news with mistrust, then I said to myself that
I might be mistaken, and that Pavlicheff might possibly have had a son. But I
was absolutely amazed at the readiness with which the son had revealed the
secret of his birth at the expense of his mother’s honour. For Tchebaroff had
already menaced me with publicity in our interview....”
“But is it true that I have but a fortnight of life left to me? I know I told
some of my friends that Doctor B. had informed me that this was the case; but I
now confess that I lied; B. has not even seen me. However, a week ago, I called
in a medical student, Kislorodoff, who is a Nationalist, an Atheist, and a
Nihilist, by conviction, and that is why I had him. I needed a man who would
tell me the bare truth without any humbug or ceremony--and so he did--indeed,
almost with pleasure (which I thought was going a little too far).

“I suppose it is true, then!” he muttered to himself, and his face took on an
expression of despair. “So that’s the end of it! Now you, sir, will you answer
me or not?” he went on suddenly, gazing at Gania with ineffable malice. “Now
then, you--”

“Yes, or even if they had! But who did sleep with you?”
“General Ivolgin--retired and unfortunate. May I ask your Christian and generic
names?”
“It was, I assure you, and if not to her then to Rogojin, which is the same
thing. Mr. Hippolyte has had letters, too, and all from the individual whose
name begins with an A.,” smirked Lebedeff, with a hideous grin.

“It’s so dark,” he said.

“Come, speak out! Don’t lie, for once in your life--speak out!” continued
Hippolyte, quivering with agitation.
There are certain people of whom it is difficult to say anything which will at
once throw them into relief--in other words, describe them graphically in their
typical characteristics. These are they who are generally known as “commonplace
people,” and this class comprises, of course, the immense majority of mankind.
Authors, as a rule, attempt to select and portray types rarely met with in their
entirety, but these types are nevertheless more real than real life itself.

“Soon?”

“Yes, I do think so!”
This confidence of a stupid man in his own talents has been wonderfully depicted
by Gogol in the amazing character of Pirogoff. Pirogoff has not the slightest
doubt of his own genius,--nay, of his _superiority_ of genius,--so certain is he
of it that he never questions it. How many Pirogoffs have there not been among
our writers--scholars, propagandists? I say “have been,” but indeed there are
plenty of them at this very day.
“The sun is rising,” he cried, seeing the gilded tops of the trees, and pointing
to them as to a miracle. “See, it is rising now!”
“Aglaya Ivanovna...” began Lebedeff, promptly.

“I didn’t come here for that purpose, Parfen. That was not in my mind--”

“No, he has not.”“Who could have told her?”“Seeking?”“‘Nurse, where is your
tomb?’
But he had hardly become conscious of this curious phenomenon, when another
recollection suddenly swam through his brain, interesting him for the moment,
exceedingly. He remembered that the last time he had been engaged in looking
around him for the unknown something, he was standing before a cutler’s shop, in
the window of which were exposed certain goods for sale. He was extremely
anxious now to discover whether this shop and these goods really existed, or
whether the whole thing had been a hallucination.

“Not bad that, not bad at all!” put in Ferdishenko, “_se non è vero_--”

“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.

He sat down on the edge of his chair, smiling and making faces, and rubbing his
hands, and looking as though he were in delighted expectation of hearing some
important communication, which had been long guessed by all.

“Oh! it was the Kolpakoff business, and of course he would have been acquitted.”

“Vladimir Doktorenko,” said Lebedeff’s nephew briskly, and with a certain pride,
as if he boasted of his name.

Here is the article.
“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 did not intend to come back
here for two or three years--”
He took up the portrait, and went out of the room.
But by this time they had reached Gania’s house.

“Then how did they--look here! Did Aglaya show my letter to the old lady?”

“I don’t know--I dreamed last night that I was being suffocated with a wet cloth
by--somebody. I’ll tell you who it was--Rogojin! What do you think, can a man be
suffocated with a wet cloth?”

The deathlike pallor, and a sort of slight convulsion about the lips, had not
left Rogojin’s face. Though he welcomed his guest, he was still obviously much
disturbed. As he invited the prince to sit down near the table, the latter
happened to turn towards him, and was startled by the strange expression on his
face. A painful recollection flashed into his mind. He stood for a time, looking
straight at Rogojin, whose eyes seemed to blaze like fire. At last Rogojin
smiled, though he still looked agitated and shaken.

“What did I want? Well, to begin with, it is good to meet a man like you. It is
a pleasure to talk over my faults with you. I know you for one of the best of
men... and then... then...”
“I know nothing about Evgenie Pavlovitch!” said the prince.

“I thought you would. ‘They’ll talk about it,’ I thought; so I determined to go
and fetch you to spend the night here--‘We will be together,’ I thought, ‘for
this one night--’”

“Why? Because you have suffered more than we have?”

It would be difficult to describe the pitiable scene that now followed. The
first sensation of alarm soon gave place to amusement; some burst out laughing
loud and heartily, and seemed to find a malicious satisfaction in the joke. Poor
Hippolyte sobbed hysterically; he wrung his hands; he approached everyone in
turn--even Ferdishenko--and took them by both hands, and swore solemnly that he
had forgotten--absolutely forgotten--“accidentally, and not on purpose,”--to put
a cap in--that he “had ten of them, at least, in his pocket.” He pulled them out
and showed them to everyone; he protested that he had not liked to put one in
beforehand for fear of an accidental explosion in his pocket. That he had
thought he would have lots of time to put it in afterwards--when required--and,
that, in the heat of the moment, he had forgotten all about it. He threw himself
upon the prince, then on Evgenie Pavlovitch. He entreated Keller to give him
back the pistol, and he’d soon show them all that “his honour--his honour,”--but
he was “dishonoured, now, for ever!”

“At all events, I shall not interfere with you!” he murmured, as though making
answer to some secret thought of his own.
The general flushed with indignation as he spoke.“You are not angry with me?” he
asked suddenly, and with a kind of nervous hurry, although he looked them
straight in the face.“Rogojin and his hundred thousand roubles, no doubt of it,”
muttered Ptitsin to himself.
“Yes--I have it still,” the prince replied.

“I love these arguments, prince,” said Keller, also more than half intoxicated,
moving restlessly in his chair. “Scientific and political.” Then, turning
suddenly towards Evgenie Pavlovitch, who was seated near him: “Do you know, I
simply adore reading the accounts of the debates in the English parliament. Not
that the discussions themselves interest me; I am not a politician, you know;
but it delights me to see how they address each other ‘the noble lord who agrees
with me,’ ‘my honourable opponent who astonished Europe with his proposal,’ ‘the
noble viscount sitting opposite’--all these expressions, all this
parliamentarism of a free people, has an enormous attraction for me. It
fascinates me, prince. I have always been an artist in the depths of my soul, I
assure you, Evgenie Pavlovitch.”

“As to faith,” he said, smiling, and evidently unwilling to leave Rogojin in
this state--“as to faith, I had four curious conversations in two days, a week
or so ago. One morning I met a man in the train, and made acquaintance with him
at once. I had often heard of him as a very learned man, but an atheist; and I
was very glad of the opportunity of conversing with so eminent and clever a
person. He doesn’t believe in God, and he talked a good deal about it, but all
the while it appeared to me that he was speaking _outside the subject_. And it
has always struck me, both in speaking to such men and in reading their books,
that they do not seem really to be touching on that at all, though on the
surface they may appear to do so. I told him this, but I dare say I did not
clearly express what I meant, for he could not understand me.
“I go to see her every day, every day.”

Gania’s voice was full of the most uncontrolled and uncontrollable irritation.

“Don’t they heat them at all?”
“Why do you look at me like that, prince?” she asked suddenly, breaking off her
merry conversation and laughter with those about her. “I’m afraid of you! You
look as though you were just going to put out your hand and touch my face to see
if it’s real! Doesn’t he, Evgenie Pavlovitch--doesn’t he look like that?”
“I think I may have offended him by saying nothing just now. I am afraid he may
suspect that I doubted his good faith,--about shooting himself, you know. What
do you think, Evgenie Pavlovitch?”
“Well, as you like, just as you like,” said Evgenie Pavlovitch, irritably. “Only
you are such a plucky fellow, take care you don’t get included among the ten
victims!”
“H’m!” grunted the astonished servant.
The prince did not answer, and there was silence again. “I love Gavrila
Ardalionovitch,” she said, quickly; but hardly audibly, and with her head bent
lower than ever.
“And now you’ll have a million roubles, at least--goodness gracious me!”
exclaimed the clerk, rubbing his hands.

“But there is no necessity for you to retire at all,” complained the general,
“as far as I know.”

“Be quiet! How dare they laugh at me in your house?” said Aglaya, turning
sharply on her mother in that hysterical frame of mind that rides recklessly
over every obstacle and plunges blindly through proprieties. “Why does everyone,
everyone worry and torment me? Why have they all been bullying me these three
days about you, prince? I will not marry you--never, and under no circumstances!
Know that once and for all; as if anyone could marry an absurd creature like
you! Just look in the glass and see what you look like, this very moment! Why,
_why_ do they torment me and say I am going to marry you? You must know it; you
are in the plot with them!”

“Oh, I supposed you were coming,” the other replied, smiling sarcastically, “and
I was right in my supposition, you see; but how was I to know that you would
come _today?_”

“Quite likely, though I bought it here. Gania, give the prince some paper. Here
are pens and paper; now then, take this table. What’s this?” the general
continued to Gania, who had that moment taken a large photograph out of his
portfolio, and shown it to his senior. “Halloa! Nastasia Philipovna! Did she
send it you herself? Herself?” he inquired, with much curiosity and great
animation.

Burdovsky silently resumed his seat, and bent his head as though in profound
thought. His friend, Lebedeff’s nephew, who had risen to accompany him, also sat
down again. He seemed much disappointed, though as self-confident as ever.
Hippolyte looked dejected and sulky, as well as surprised. He had just been
attacked by a violent fit of coughing, so that his handkerchief was stained with
blood. The boxer looked thoroughly frightened.

He himself, when relating the circumstances of the general’s illness to
Lizabetha Prokofievna, “spoke beautifully,” as Aglaya’s sisters declared
afterwards--“modestly, quietly, without gestures or too many words, and with
great dignity.” He had entered the room with propriety and grace, and he was
perfectly dressed; he not only did not “fall down on the slippery floor,” as he
had expressed it, but evidently made a very favourable impression upon the
assembled guests.

“You may smile,--but there’s a career in this,” said the general. “You don’t
know what a great personage I shall show this to, prince. Why, you can command a
situation at thirty-five roubles per month to start with. However, it’s
half-past twelve,” he concluded, looking at his watch; “so to business, prince,
for I must be setting to work and shall not see you again today. Sit down a
minute. I have told you that I cannot receive you myself very often, but I
should like to be of some assistance to you, some small assistance, of a kind
that would give you satisfaction. I shall find you a place in one of the State
departments, an easy place--but you will require to be accurate. Now, as to your
plans--in the house, or rather in the family of Gania here--my young friend,
whom I hope you will know better--his mother and sister have prepared two or
three rooms for lodgers, and let them to highly recommended young fellows, with
board and attendance. I am sure Nina Alexandrovna will take you in on my
recommendation. There you will be comfortable and well taken care of; for I do
not think, prince, that you are the sort of man to be left to the mercy of Fate
in a town like Petersburg. Nina Alexandrovna, Gania’s mother, and Varvara
Alexandrovna, are ladies for whom I have the highest possible esteem and
respect. Nina Alexandrovna is the wife of General Ardalion Alexandrovitch, my
old brother in arms, with whom, I regret to say, on account of certain
circumstances, I am no longer acquainted. I give you all this information,
prince, in order to make it clear to you that I am personally recommending you
to this family, and that in so doing, I am more or less taking upon myself to
answer for you. The terms are most reasonable, and I trust that your salary will
very shortly prove amply sufficient for your expenditure. Of course pocket-money
is a necessity, if only a little; do not be angry, prince, if I strongly
recommend you to avoid carrying money in your pocket. But as your purse is quite
empty at the present moment, you must allow me to press these twenty-five
roubles upon your acceptance, as something to begin with. Of course we will
settle this little matter another time, and if you are the upright, honest man
you look, I anticipate very little trouble between us on that score. Taking so
much interest in you as you may perceive I do, I am not without my object, and
you shall know it in good time. You see, I am perfectly candid with you. I hope,
Gania, you have nothing to say against the prince’s taking up his abode in your
house?”
The general grew purple with anger.
“Why not?”
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.

XII.

“Surely there must be someone among all of you here who will turn this shameless
creature out of the room?” cried Varia, suddenly. She was shaking and trembling
with rage.

Nastasia Philipovna looked keenly round at the prince.

Mrs. Epanchin had approached Hippolyte and seized him firmly by the arm, while
her eyes, blazing with fury, were fixed upon his face.

“What is it?” demanded the lady.
“Do you mean to say,” cried Gania, from the other corner, “do you mean to say
that railways are accursed inventions, that they are a source of ruin to
humanity, a poison poured upon the earth to corrupt the springs of life?”

Five years of this Petersburg life went by, and, of course, during that time a
great deal happened. Totski’s position was very uncomfortable; having “funked”
once, he could not totally regain his ease. He was afraid, he did not know why,
but he was simply _afraid_ of Nastasia Philipovna. For the first two years or so
he had suspected that she wished to marry him herself, and that only her vanity
prevented her telling him so. He thought that she wanted him to approach her
with a humble proposal from his own side. But to his great, and not entirely
pleasurable amazement, he discovered that this was by no means the case, and
that were he to offer himself he would be refused. He could not understand such
a state of things, and was obliged to conclude that it was pride, the pride of
an injured and imaginative woman, which had gone to such lengths that it
preferred to sit and nurse its contempt and hatred in solitude rather than mount
to heights of hitherto unattainable splendour. To make matters worse, she was
quite impervious to mercenary considerations, and could not be bribed in any
way.

“Yes _all_, Katia, all--every one of them. Let them in, or they’ll come in
whether you like or no. Listen! what a noise they are making! Perhaps you are
offended, gentlemen, that I should receive such guests in your presence? I am
very sorry, and ask your forgiveness, but it cannot be helped--and I should be
very grateful if you could all stay and witness this climax. However, just as
you please, of course.”

“But, gentlemen, I assure you that you are quite astray,” exclaimed the prince.
“You have published this article upon the supposition that I would never consent
to satisfy Mr. Burdovsky. Acting on that conviction, you have tried to
intimidate me by this publication and to be revenged for my supposed refusal.
But what did you know of my intentions? It may be that I have resolved to
satisfy Mr. Burdovsky’s claim. I now declare openly, in the presence of these
witnesses, that I will do so.”

“There is much suffering in this face,” murmured the prince, more as though
talking to himself than answering the question.

At the beginning of the evening, when the prince first came into the room, he
had sat down as far as possible from the Chinese vase which Aglaya had spoken of
the day before.
Nastasia Philipovna was quite capable of ruining herself, and even of
perpetrating something which would send her to Siberia, for the mere pleasure of
injuring a man for whom she had developed so inhuman a sense of loathing and
contempt. He had sufficient insight to understand that she valued nothing in the
world--herself least of all--and he made no attempt to conceal the fact that he
was a coward in some respects. For instance, if he had been told that he would
be stabbed at the altar, or publicly insulted, he would undoubtedly have been
frightened; but not so much at the idea of being murdered, or wounded, or
insulted, as at the thought that if such things were to happen he would be made
to look ridiculous in the eyes of society.

The general very nearly smiled, but thought better of it and kept his smile
back. Then he reflected, blinked his eyes, stared at his guest once more from
head to foot; then abruptly motioned him to a chair, sat down himself, and
waited with some impatience for the prince to speak.