IX

Silence immediately fell on the room; all looked at the prince as
though they neither understood, nor hoped to understand. Gania
was motionless with horror.

Nastasia's arrival was a most unexpected and overwhelming event
to all parties. In the first place, she had never been before. Up
to now she had been so haughty that she had never even asked
Gania to introduce her to his parents. Of late she had not so
much as mentioned them. Gania was partly glad of this; but still
he had put it to her debit in the account to be settled after
marriage.

He would have borne anything from her rather than this visit. But
one thing seemed to him quite clear-her visit now, and the
present of her portrait on this particular day, pointed out
plainly enough which way she intended to make her decision!

The incredulous amazement with which all regarded the prince did
not last long, for Nastasia herself appeared at the door and
passed in, pushing by the prince again.

"At last I've stormed the citadel! Why do you tie up your bell?"
she said, merrily, as she pressed Gania's hand, the latter having
rushed up to her as soon as she made her appearance. "What are
you looking so upset about? Introduce me, please!"

The bewildered Gania introduced her first to Varia, and both
women, before shaking hands, exchanged looks of strange import.
Nastasia, however, smiled amiably; but Varia did not try to look
amiable, and kept her gloomy expression. She did not even
vouchsafe the usual courteous smile of etiquette. Gania darted a
terrible glance of wrath at her for this, but Nina Alexandrovna,
mended matters a little when Gania introduced her at last.
Hardly, however, had the old lady begun about her " highly
gratified feelings," and so on, when Nastasia left her, and
flounced into a chair by Gania's side in the corner by the
window, and cried: "Where's your study? and where are the--the
lodgers? You do take in lodgers, don't you?"

Gania looked dreadfully put out, and tried to say something in
reply, but Nastasia interrupted him:

"Why, where are you going to squeeze lodgers in here? Don't you
use a study? Does this sort of thing pay?" she added, turning to
Nina Alexandrovna.

"Well, it is troublesome, rather," said the latter; "but I
suppose it will 'pay' pretty well. We have only just begun,
however--"

Again Nastasia Philipovna did not hear the sentence out. She
glanced at Gania, and cried, laughing, "What a face! My goodness,
what a face you have on at this moment!"

Indeed, Gania did not look in the least like himself. His
bewilderment and his alarmed perplexity passed off, however, and
his lips now twitched with rage as he continued to stare evilly
at his laughing guest, while his countenance became absolutely
livid.

There was another witness, who, though standing at the door
motionless and bewildered himself, still managed to remark
Gania's death-like pallor, and the dreadful change that had come
over his face. This witness was the prince, who now advanced in
alarm and muttered to Gania:

"Drink some water, and don't look like that!"

It was clear that he came out with these words quite
spontaneously, on the spur of the moment. But his speech was
productive of much--for it appeared that all. Gania's rage now
overflowed upon the prince. He seized him by the shoulder and
gazed with an intensity of loathing and revenge at him, but said
nothing--as though his feelings were too strong to permit of
words.

General agitation prevailed. Nina Alexandrovna gave a little cry
of anxiety; Ptitsin took a step forward in alarm; Colia and
Ferdishenko stood stock still at the door in amazement;--only
Varia remained coolly watching the scene from under her
eyelashes. She did not sit down, but stood by her mother with
folded hands. However, Gania recollected himself almost
immediately. He let go of the prince and burst out laughing.

"Why, are you a doctor, prince, or what?" he asked, as naturally
as possible. "I declare you quite frightened me! Nastasia
Philipovna, let me introduce this interesting character to you--
though I have only known him myself since the morning."

Nastasia gazed at the prince in bewilderment. "Prince? He a
Prince? Why, I took him for the footman, just now, and sent him
in to announce me! Ha, ha, ha, isn't that good!"

"Not bad that, not bad at all!" put in Ferdishenko, "se non e
vero--"

"I rather think I pitched into you, too, didn't I? Forgive me--do!
Who is he, did you say? What prince? Muishkin?" she added,
addressing Gania.

"He is a lodger of ours," explained the latter.

"An idiot!"--the prince distinctly heard the word half whispered
from behind him. This was Ferdishenko's voluntary information for
Nastasia's benefit.

"Tell me, why didn't you put me right when I made such a dreadful
mistake just now?" continued the latter, examining the prince
from head to foot without the slightest ceremony. She awaited the
answer as though convinced that it would be so foolish that she
must inevitably fail to restrain her laughter over it.

"I was astonished, seeing you so suddenly--" murmured the prince.

"How did you know who I was? Where had you seen me before? And
why were you so struck dumb at the sight of me? What was there so
overwhelming about me?"

"Oho! ho, ho, ho!" cried Ferdishenko. "NOW then, prince! My
word, what things I would say if I had such a chance as that! My
goodness, prince--go on!"

"So should I, in your place, I've no doubt!" laughed the prince
to Ferdishenko; then continued, addressing Nastasia: "Your
portrait struck me very forcibly this morning; then I was talking
about you to the Epanchins; and then, in the train, before I
reached Petersburg, Parfen Rogojin told me a good deal about you;
and at the very moment that I opened the door to you I happened
to be thinking of you, when--there you stood before me!"

"And how did you recognize me?"

"From the portrait!"

"What else?"

"I seemed to imagine you exactly as you are--I seemed to have
seen you somewhere."

"Where--where?"

"I seem to have seen your eyes somewhere; but it cannot be! I
have not seen you--I never was here before. I may have dreamed of
you, I don't know."

The prince said all this with manifest effort--in broken
sentences, and with many drawings of breath. He was evidently
much agitated. Nastasia Philipovna looked at him inquisitively,
but did not laugh.

"Bravo, prince!" cried Ferdishenko, delighted.

At this moment a loud voice from behind the group which hedged in
the prince and Nastasia Philipovna, divided the crowd, as it
were, and before them stood the head of the family, General
Ivolgin. He was dressed in evening clothes; his moustache was
dyed.

This apparition was too much for Gania. Vain and ambitious almost
to morbidness, he had had much to put up with in the last two
months, and was seeking feverishly for some means of enabling
himself to lead a more presentable kind of existence. At home, he
now adopted an attitude of absolute cynicism, but he could not
keep this up before Nastasia Philipovna, although he had sworn to
make her pay after marriage for all he suffered now. He was
experiencing a last humiliation, the bitterest of all, at this
moment--the humiliation of blushing for his own kindred in his own
house. A question flashed through his mind as to whether the game
was really worth the candle.

For that had happened at this moment, which for two months had
been his nightmare; which had filled his soul with dread and
shame--the meeting between his father and Nastasia Philipovna. He
had often tried to imagine such an event, but had found the
picture too mortifying and exasperating, and had quietly dropped
it. Very likely he anticipated far worse things than was at all
necessary; it is often so with vain persons. He had long since
determined, therefore, to get his father out of the way,
anywhere, before his marriage, in order to avoid such a meeting;
but when Nastasia entered the room just now, he had been so
overwhelmed with astonishment, that he had not thought of his
father, and had made no arrangements to keep him out of the way.
And now it was too late--there he was, and got up, too, in a dress
coat and white tie, and Nastasia in the very humour to heap
ridicule on him and his family circle; of this last fact, he felt
quite persuaded. What else had she come for? There were his
mother and his sister sitting before her, and she seemed to have
forgotten their very existence already; and if she behaved like
that, he thought, she must have some object in view.

Ferdishenko led the general up to Nastasia Philipovna.

"Ardalion Alexandrovitch Ivolgin," said the smiling general, with
a low bow of great dignity, "an old soldier, unfortunate, and the
father of this family; but happy in the hope of including in that
family so exquisite--"

He did not finish his sentence, for at this moment Ferdishenko
pushed a chair up from behind, and the general, not very firm on
his legs, at this post-prandial hour, flopped into it backwards.
It was always a difficult thing to put this warrior to confusion,
and his sudden descent left him as composed as before. He had sat
down just opposite to Nastasia, whose fingers he now took, and
raised to his lips with great elegance, and much courtesy. The
general had once belonged to a very select circle of society, but
he had been turned out of it two or three years since on account
of certain weaknesses, in which he now indulged with all the less
restraint; but his good manners remained with him to this day, in
spite of all.

Nastasia Philipovna seemed delighted at the appearance of this
latest arrival, of whom she had of course heard a good deal by
report.

"I have heard that my son--" began Ardalion Alexandrovitch.

"Your son, indeed! A nice papa you are! YOU might have come to
see me anyhow, without compromising anyone. Do you hide yourself,
or does your son hide you?"

"The children of the nineteenth century, and their parents--"
began the general, again.

"Nastasia Philipovna, will you excuse the general for a moment?
Someone is inquiring for him," said Nina Alexandrovna in a loud
voice, interrupting the conversation.

"Excuse him? Oh no, I have wished to see him too long for that.
Why, what business can he have? He has retired, hasn't he? You
won't leave me, general, will you?"

"I give you my word that he shall come and see you--but he--he
needs rest just now."

"General, they say you require rest," said Nastasia Philipovna,
with the melancholy face of a child whose toy is taken away.

Ardalion Alexandrovitch immediately did his best to make his
foolish position a great deal worse.

"My dear, my dear!" he said, solemnly and reproachfully, looking
at his wife, with one hand on his heart.

"Won't you leave the room, mamma?" asked Varia, aloud.

"No, Varia, I shall sit it out to the end."

Nastasia must have overheard both question and reply, but her
vivacity was not in the least damped. On the contrary, it seemed
to increase. She immediately overwhelmed the general once more
with questions, and within five minutes that gentleman was as
happy as a king, and holding forth at the top of his voice, amid
the laughter of almost all who heard him.

Colia jogged the prince's arm.

"Can't YOU get him out of the room, somehow? DO, please," and
tears of annoyance stood in the boy's eyes. "Curse that Gania!"
he muttered, between his teeth.

"Oh yes, I knew General Epanchin well," General Ivolgin was
saying at this moment; "he and Prince Nicolai Ivanovitch
Muishkin--whose son I have this day embraced after an absence of
twenty years--and I, were three inseparables. Alas  one is in the
grave, torn to pieces by calumnies and bullets; another is now
before you, still battling with calumnies and bullets--"

"Bullets?" cried Nastasia.

"Yes, here in my chest. I received them at the siege of Kars, and
I feel them in bad weather now. And as to the third of our trio,
Epanchin, of course after that little affair with the poodle in
the railway carriage, it was all UP between us."

"Poodle? What was that? And in a railway carriage? Dear me," said
Nastasia, thoughtfully, as though trying to recall something to
mind.

"Oh, just a silly, little occurrence, really not worth telling,
about Princess Bielokonski's governess, Miss Smith, and--oh, it
is really not worth telling!"

"No, no, we must have it!" cried Nastasia merrily.

"Yes, of course," said Ferdishenko. "C'est du nouveau."

"Ardalion," said Nina Alexandrovitch, entreatingly.

"Papa, you are wanted!" cried Colia.

"Well, it is a silly little story, in a few words," began the
delighted general. "A couple of years ago, soon after the new
railway was opened, I had to go somewhere or other on business.
Well, I took a first-class ticket, sat down, and began to smoke,
or rather CONTINUED to smoke, for I had lighted up before. I was
alone in the carriage. Smoking is not allowed, but is not
prohibited either; it is half allowed--so to speak, winked at. I
had the window open."

"Suddenly, just before the whistle, in came two ladies with a
little poodle, and sat down opposite to me; not bad-looking
women; one was in light blue, the other in black silk. The
poodle, a beauty with a silver collar, lay on light blue's knee.
They looked haughtily about, and talked English together. I took
no notice, just went on smoking. I observed that the ladies were
getting angry--over my cigar, doubtless. One looked at me through
her tortoise-shell eyeglass.

"I took no notice, because they never said a word. If they didn't
like the cigar, why couldn't they say so? Not a word, not a hint!
Suddenly, and without the very slightest suspicion of warning,
'light blue' seizes my cigar from between my fingers, and,
wheugh! out of the window with it! Well, on flew the train, and I
sat bewildered, and the young woman, tall and fair, and rather
red in the face, too red, glared at me with flashing eyes.

"I didn't say a word, but with extreme courtesy, I may say with
most refined courtesy, I reached my finger and thumb over towards
the poodle, took it up delicately by the nape of the neck, and
chucked it out of the window, after the cigar. The train went
flying on, and the poodle's yells were lost in the distance."

"Oh, you naughty man!" cried Nastasia, laughing and clapping her
hands like a child.

"Bravo!" said Ferdishenko. Ptitsin laughed too, though he had
been very sorry to see the general appear. Even Colia laughed and
said, "Bravo!"

"And I was right, truly right," cried the general, with warmth
and solemnity, "for if cigars are forbidden in railway carriages,
poodles are much more so."

"Well, and what did the lady do?" asked Nastasia, impatiently.

" She--ah, that's where all the mischief of it lies!" replied
Ivolgin, frowning. "Without a word, as it were, of warning, she
slapped me on the cheek! An extraordinary woman!"

"And you?"

The general dropped his eyes, and elevated his brows; shrugged
his shoulders, tightened his lips, spread his hands, and remained
silent. At last he blurted out:

"I lost my head!"

"Did you hit her?"

"No, oh no!--there was a great flare-up, but I didn't hit her! I
had to struggle a little, purely to defend myself; but the very
devil was in the business. It turned out that 'light blue' was an
Englishwoman, governess or something, at Princess Bielokonski's,
and the other woman was one of the old-maid princesses
Bielokonski. Well, everybody knows what great friends the
princess and Mrs. Epanchin are, so there was a pretty kettle of
fish. All the Bielokonskis went into mourning for the poodle. Six
princesses in tears, and the Englishwoman shrieking!

"Of course I wrote an apology, and called, but they would not
receive either me or my apology, and the Epanchins cut me, too!"

"But wait," said Nastasia. "How is it that, five or six days
since, I read exactly the same story in the paper, as happening
between a Frenchman and an English girl? The cigar was snatched
away exactly as you describe, and the poodle was chucked out of
the window after it. The slapping came off, too, as in your case;
and the girl's dress was light blue!"

The general blushed dreadfully; Colia blushed too; and Ptitsin
turned hastily away. Ferdishenko was the only one who laughed as
gaily as before. As to Gania, I need not say that he was
miserable; he stood dumb and wretched and took no notice of
anybody.

"I assure you," said the general, "that exactly the same thing
happened to myself!"

"I remembered there was some quarrel between father and Miss
Smith, the Bielokonski's governess," said Colia.

"How very curious, point for point the same anecdote, and
happening at different ends of Europe! Even the light blue dress
the same," continued the pitiless Nastasia. "I must really send
you the paper."

"You must observe," insisted the general, "that my experience was
two years earlier."

"Ah! that's it, no doubt!"

Nastasia Philipovna laughed hysterically.

"Father, will you hear a word from me outside!" said Gania, his
voice shaking with agitation, as he seized his father by the
shoulder. His eyes shone with a blaze of hatred.

At this moment there was a terrific bang at the front door,
almost enough to break it down. Some most unusual visitor must
have arrived. Colia ran to open.

X

THE entrance-hall suddenly became full of noise and people. To
judge from the sounds which penetrated to the drawing-room, a
number of people had already come in, and the stampede continued.
Several voices were talking and shouting at once; others were
talking and shouting on the stairs outside; it was evidently a
most extraordinary visit that was about to take place.

Everyone exchanged startled glances. Gania rushed out towards the
dining-room, but a number of men had already made their way in,
and met him.

"Ah! here he is, the Judas!" cried a voice which the prince
recognized at once. "How d'ye do, Gania, you old blackguard?"

"Yes, that's the man!" said another voice.

There was no room for doubt in the prince's mind: one of the
voices was Rogojin's, and the other Lebedeff's.

Gania stood at the door like a block and looked on in silence,
putting no obstacle in the way of their entrance, and ten or a
dozen men marched in behind Parfen Rogojin. They were a decidedly
mixed-looking collection, and some of them came in in their furs
and caps. None of them were quite drunk, but all appeared to De
considerably excited.

They seemed to need each other's support, morally, before they
dared come in; not one of them would have entered alone but with
the rest each one was brave enough. Even Rogojin entered rather
cautiously at the head of his troop; but he was evidently
preoccupied. He appeared to be gloomy and morose, and had clearly
come with some end in view. All the rest were merely chorus,
brought in to support the chief character. Besides Lebedeff there
was the dandy Zalesheff, who came in without his coat and hat,
two or three others followed his example; the rest were more
uncouth. They included a couple of young merchants, a man in a
great-coat, a medical student, a little Pole, a small fat man who
laughed continuously, and an enormously tall stout one who
apparently put great faith in the strength of his fists. A couple
of "ladies" of some sort put their heads in at the front door,
but did not dare come any farther. Colia promptly banged the door
in their faces and locked it.

"Hallo, Gania, you blackguard! You didn't expect Rogojin, eh?"
said the latter, entering the drawing-room, and stopping before
Gania.

But at this moment he saw, seated before him, Nastasia
Philipovna. He had not dreamed of meeting her here, evidently,
for her appearance produced a marvellous effect upon him. He grew
pale, and his lips became actually blue.

"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--"

He panted, and could hardly speak for agitation. He advanced into
the room mechanically; but perceiving Nina Alexandrovna and Varia
he became more or less embarrassed, in spite of his excitement.
His followers entered after him, and all paused a moment at sight
of the ladies. Of course their modesty was not fated to be long-
lived, but for a moment they were abashed. Once let them begin to
shout, however, and nothing on earth should disconcert them.

"What, you here too, prince?" said Rogojin, absently, but a
little surprised all the same " Still in your gaiters, eh?" He
sighed, and forgot the prince next moment, and his wild eyes
wandered over to Nastasia again, as though attracted in that
direction by some magnetic force.

Nastasia looked at the new arrivals with great curiosity. Gania
recollected himself at last.

"Excuse me, sirs," he said, loudly, "but what does all this
mean?" He glared at the advancing crowd generally, but addressed
his remarks especially to their captain, Rogojin. "You are not in
a stable, gentlemen, though you may think it--my mother and
sister are present."

"Yes, I see your mother and sister," muttered Rogojin, through
his teeth; and Lebedeff seemed to feel himself called upon to
second the statement.

"At all events, I must request you to step into the salon," said
Gania, his rage rising quite out of proportion to his words, "and
then I shall inquire--"

"What, he doesn't know me!" said Rogojin, showing his teeth
disagreeably. "He doesn't recognize Rogojin!" He did not move an
inch, however.

"I have met you somewhere, I believe, but--"

"Met me somewhere, pfu! Why, it's only three months since I lost
two hundred roubles of my father's money to you, at cards. The
old fellow died before he found out. Ptitsin knows all about it.
Why, I've only to pull out a three-rouble note and show it to
you, and you'd crawl on your hands and knees to the other end of
the town for it; that's the sort of man you are. Why, I've come
now, at this moment, to buy you up! Oh, you needn't think that
because I wear these boots I have no money. I have lots of money,
my beauty,--enough to buy up you and all yours together. So I
shall, if I like to! I'll buy you up! I will!" he yelled,
apparently growing more and more intoxicated and excited." Oh,
Nastasia Philipovna! don't turn me out! Say one word, do! Are you
going to marry this man, or not?"

Rogojin asked his question like a lost soul appealing to some
divinity, with the reckless daring of one appointed to die, who
has nothing to lose.

He awaited the reply in deadly anxiety.

Nastasia Philipovna gazed at him with a haughty, ironical.
expression of face; but when she glanced at Nina Alexandrovna and
Varia, and from them to Gania, she changed her tone, all of a
sudden.

"Certainly not; what are you thinking of? What could have induced
you to ask such a question?" she replied, quietly and seriously,
and even, apparently, with some astonishment.

"No? No?" shouted Rogojin, almost out of his mind with joy. "You
are not going to, after all? And they told me--oh, Nastasia
Philipovna--they said you had promised to marry him, HIM! As if
you COULD do it!--him--pooh! I don't mind saying it to everyone--
I'd buy him off for a hundred roubles, any day pfu! Give him a
thousand, or three if he likes, poor devil' and he'd cut and run
the day before his wedding, and leave his bride to me! Wouldn't
you, Gania, you blackguard? You'd take three thousand, wouldn't
you? Here's the money! Look, I've come on purpose to pay you off
and get your receipt, formally. I said I'd buy you up, and so I
will."

"Get out of this, you drunken beast!" cried Gania, who was red
and white by turns.

Rogojin's troop, who were only waiting for an excuse, set up a
howl at this. Lebedeff stepped forward and whispered something in
Parfen's ear.

"You're right, clerk," said the latter, "you're right, tipsy
spirit--you're right!--Nastasia Philipovna," he added, looking at
her like some lunatic, harmless generally, but suddenly wound up
to a pitch of audacity, "here are eighteen thousand roubles,
and--and you shall have more--." Here he threw a packet of bank-
notes tied up in white paper, on the table before her, not daring
to say all he wished to say.

"No-no-no!" muttered Lebedeff, clutching at his arm. He was
clearly aghast at the largeness of the sum, and thought a far
smaller amount should have been tried first.

"No, you fool--you don't know whom you are dealing with--and it
appears I am a fool, too!" said Parfen, trembling beneath the
flashing glance of Nastasia. "Oh, curse it all! What a fool I
was to listen to you!" he added, with profound melancholy.

Nastasia Philipovna, observing his woe-begone expression,
suddenly burst out laughing.

"Eighteen thousand roubles, for me? Why, you declare yourself a
fool at once," she said, with impudent familiarity, as she rose
from the sofa and prepared to go. Gania watched the whole scene
with a sinking of the heart.

"Forty thousand, then--forty thousand roubles instead of eighteen!
Ptitsin and another have promised to find me forty thousand
roubles by seven o'clock tonight. Forty thousand roubles--paid
down on the nail!"

The scene was growing more and more disgraceful; but Nastasia
Philipovna continued to laugh and did not go away. Nina
Alexandrovna and Varia had both risen from their places and were
waiting, in silent horror, to see what would happen. Varia's eyes
were all ablaze with anger; but the scene had a different effect
on Nina Alexandrovna. She paled and trembled, and looked more and
more like fainting every moment.

"Very well then, a HUNDRED thousand! a hundred thousand! paid
this very day. Ptitsin! find it for me. A good share shall stick
to your fingers--come!"

"You are mad!" said Ptitsin, coming up quickly and seizing him by
the hand. "You're drunk--the police will be sent for if you don't
look out. Think where you are."

"Yes, he's boasting like a drunkard," added Nastasia, as though
with the sole intention of goading him.

"I do NOT boast! You shall have a hundred thousand, this very
day. Ptitsin, get the money, you gay usurer! Take what you like
for it, but get it by the evening! I'll show that I'm in
earnest!" cried Rogojin, working himself up into a frenzy of
excitement.

"Come, come; what's all this?" cried General Ivolgin, suddenly
and angrily, coming close up to Rogojin. The unexpectedness of
this sally on the part of the hitherto silent old man caused some
laughter among the intruders.

"Halloa! what's this now?" laughed Rogojin. "You come along with
me, old fellow! You shall have as much to drink as you like."

"Oh, it's too horrible!" cried poor Colia, sobbing with shame and
annoyance.

"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.

"That's me, I suppose. I'm the shameless creature!" cried
Nastasia Philipovna, with amused indifference. "Dear me, and I
came--like a fool, as I am--to invite them over to my house for
the evening! Look how your sister treats me, Gavrila
Ardalionovitch."

For some moments Gania stood as if stunned or struck by
lightning, after his sister's speech. But seeing that Nastasia
Philipovna was really about to leave the room this time, he
sprang at Varia and seized her by the arm like a madman.

"What have you done?" he hissed, glaring at her as though he
would like to annihilate her on the spot. He was quite beside
himself, and could hardly articulate his words for rage.

"What have I done? Where are you dragging me to?"

"Do you wish me to beg pardon of this creature because she has
come here to insult our mother and disgrace the whole household,
you low, base wretch?" cried Varia, looking back at her brother
with proud defiance.

A few moments passed as they stood there face to face, Gania
still holding her wrist tightly. Varia struggled once--twice--to
get free; then could restrain herself no longer, and spat in his
face.

"There's a girl for you!" cried Nastasia Philipovna. "Mr.
Ptitsin, I congratulate you on your choice."

Gania lost his head. Forgetful of everything he aimed a blow at
Varia, which would inevitably have laid her low, but suddenly
another hand caught his. Between him and Varia stood the prince.

"Enough--enough!" said the latter, with insistence, but all of a
tremble with excitement.

"Are you going to cross my path for ever, damn you!" cried Gania;
and, loosening his hold on Varia, he slapped the prince's face
with all his force.

Exclamations of horror arose on all sides. The prince grew pale
as death; he gazed into Gania's eyes with a strange, wild,
reproachful look; his lips trembled and vainly endeavoured to
form some words; then his mouth twisted into an incongruous
smile.

"Very well--never mind about me; but I shall not allow you to
strike her!" he said, at last, quietly. Then, suddenly, he could
bear it no longer, and covering his face with his hands, turned
to the wall, and murmured in broken accents:

"Oh! how ashamed you will be of this afterwards!"

Gania certainly did look dreadfully abashed. Colia rushed up to
comfort the prince, and after him crowded Varia, Rogojin and all,
even the general.

"It's nothing, it's nothing!" said the prince, and again he wore
the smile which was so inconsistent with the circumstances.

"Yes, he will be ashamed!" cried Rogojin. "You will be properly
ashamed of yourself for having injured such a--such a sheep" (he
could not find a better word). "Prince, my dear fellow, leave
this and come away with me. I'll show you how Rogojin shows his
affection for his friends."

Nastasia Philipovna was also much impressed, both with Gania's
action and with the prince's reply.

Her usually thoughtful, pale face, which all this while had been
so little in harmony with the jests and laughter which she had
seemed to put on for the occasion, was now evidently agitated by
new feelings, though she tried to conceal the fact and to look as
though she were as ready as ever for jesting and irony.

"I really think I must have seen him somewhere!" she murmured
seriously enough.

"Oh, aren't you ashamed of yourself--aren't you ashamed? Are you
really the sort of woman you are trying to represent yourself to
be? Is it possible?" The prince was now addressing Nastasia, in a
tone of reproach, which evidently came from his very heart.

Nastasia Philipovna looked surprised, and smiled, but evidently
concealed something beneath her smile and with some confusion and
a glance at Gania she left the room.

However, she had not reached the outer hall when she turned
round, walked quickly up to Nina Alexandrovna, seized her hand
and lifted it to her lips.

"He guessed quite right. I am not that sort of woman," she
whispered hurriedly, flushing red all over. Then she turned again
and left the room so quickly that no one could imagine what she
had come back for. All they saw was that she said something to
Nina Alexandrovna in a hurried whisper, and seemed to kiss her
hand. Varia, however, both saw and heard all, and watched
Nastasia out of the room with an expression of wonder.

Gania recollected himself in time to rush after her in order to
show her out, but she had gone. He followed her to the stairs.

"Don't come with me," she cried, "Au revoir, till the evening--do
you hear? Au revoir!"

He returned thoughtful and confused; the riddle lay heavier than
ever on his soul. He was troubled about the prince, too, and so
bewildered that he did not even observe Rogojin's rowdy band
crowd past him and step on his toes, at the door as they went
out. They were all talking at once. Rogojin went ahead of the
others, talking to Ptitsin, and apparently insisting vehemently
upon something very important

"You've lost the game, Gania" he cried, as he passed the latter.

Gania gazed after him uneasily, but said nothing.

XI

THE prince now left the room and shut himself up in his own
chamber. Colia followed him almost at once, anxious to do what he
could to console him. The poor boy seemed to be already so
attached to him that he could hardly leave him.

"You were quite right to go away!" he said. "The row will rage
there worse than ever now; and it's like this every day with us--
and all through that Nastasia Philipovna."

"You have so many sources of trouble here, Colia," said the
prince.

"Yes, indeed, and it is all our own fault. But I have a great
friend who is much worse off even than we are. Would you like to
know him?"

"Yes, very much. Is he one of your school-fellows?"

"Well, not exactly. I will tell you all about him some day. . . .
What do you think of Nastasia Philipovna? She is beautiful, isn't
she? I had never seen her before, though I had a great wish to do
so. She fascinated me. I could forgive Gania if he were to marry
her for love, but for money! Oh dear! that is horrible!"

"Yes, your brother does not attract me much."

"I am not surprised at that. After what you ... But I do hate
that way of looking at things! Because some fool, or a rogue
pretending to be a fool, strikes a man, that man is to be
dishonoured for his whole life, unless he wipes out the disgrace
with blood, or makes his assailant beg forgiveness on his knees!
I think that so very absurd and tyrannical. Lermontoff's Bal
Masque is based on that idea--a stupid and unnatural one, in my
opinion; but he was hardly more than a child when he wrote it."

"I like your sister very much."

"Did you see how she spat in Gania's face! Varia is afraid of no
one. But you did not follow her example, and yet I am sure it was
not through cowardice. Here she comes! Speak of a wolf and you
see his tail! I felt sure that she would come. She is very
generous, though of course she has her faults."

Varia pounced upon her brother.

"This is not the place for you," said she. "Go to father. Is he
plaguing you, prince?"

"Not in the least; on the contrary, he interests me."

"Scolding as usual, Varia! It is the worst thing about her. After
all, I believe father may have started off with Rogojin. No doubt
he is sorry now. Perhaps I had better go and see what he is
doing," added Colia, running off.

"Thank God, I have got mother away, and put her to bed without
another scene! Gania is worried--and ashamed--not without reason!
What a spectacle! I have come to thank you once more, prince, and
to ask you if you knew Nastasia Philipovna before

"No, I have never known her."

"Then what did you mean, when you said straight out to her that
she was not really 'like that'? You guessed right, I fancy. It is
quite possible she was not herself at the moment, though I cannot
fathom her meaning. Evidently she meant to hurt and insult us. I
have heard curious tales about her before now, but if she came to
invite us to her house, why did she behave so to my mother?
Ptitsin knows her very well; he says he could not understand her
today. With Rogojin, too! No one with a spark of self-respect
could have talked like that in the house of her... Mother is
extremely vexed on your account, too...

"That is nothing!" said the prince, waving his hand.

"But how meek she was when you spoke to her!"

"Meek! What do you mean?"

"You told her it was a shame for her to behave so, and her manner
changed at once; she was like another person. You have some
influence over her, prince," added Varia, smiling a little.

The door opened at this point, and in came Gania most
unexpectedly.

He was not in the least disconcerted to see Varia there, but he
stood a moment at the door, and then approached the prince
quietly.

"Prince," he said, with feeling, "I was a blackguard. Forgive
me!" His face gave evidence of suffering. The prince was
considerably amazed, and did not reply at once. "Oh, come,
forgive me, forgive me!" Gania insisted, rather impatiently. "If
you like, I'll kiss your hand. There!"

The prince was touched; he took Gania's hands, and embraced him
heartily, while each kissed the other.

"I never, never thought you were like that," said Muishkin,
drawing a deep breath. "I thought you--you weren't capable of--"

"Of what? Apologizing, eh? And where on earth did I get the idea
that you were an idiot? You always observe what other people pass
by unnoticed; one could talk sense to you, but--"

"Here is another to whom you should apologize," said the prince,
pointing to Varia.

"No, no! they are all enemies! I've tried them often enough,
believe me," and Gania turned his back on Varia with these words.

"But if I beg you to make it up?" said Varia.

"And you'll go to Nastasia Philipovna's this evening--"

"If you insist: but, judge for yourself, can I go, ought I to
go?"

"But she is not that sort of woman, I tell you!" said Gania,
angrily. "She was only acting."

"I know that--I know that; but what a part to play! And think
what she must take YOU for, Gania! I know she kissed mother's
hand, and all that, but she laughed at you, all the same. All
this is not good enough for seventy-five thousand roubles, my
dear boy. You are capable of honourable feelings still, and
that's why I am talking to you so. Oh! DO take care what you are
doing! Don't you know yourself that it will end badly, Gania?"

So saying, and in a state of violent agitation, Varia left the
room.

"There, they are all like that," said Gania, laughing, "just as
if I do not know all about it much better than they do."

He sat down with these words, evidently intending to prolong his
visit.

"If you know it so well," said the prince a little timidly, "why
do you choose all this worry for the sake of the seventy-five
thousand, which, you confess, does not cover it?"

"I didn't mean that," said Gania; "but while we are upon the
subject, let me hear your opinion. Is all this worry worth
seventy-five thousand or not?

"Certainly not."

"Of course! And it would be a disgrace to marry so, eh?"

"A great disgrace."

"Oh, well, then you may know that I shall certainly do it, now. I
shall certainly marry her. I was not quite sure of myself before,
but now I am. Don't say a word: I know what you want to tell me--"

"No. I was only going to say that what surprises me most of all
is your extraordinary confidence."


"How so? What in?"

"That Nastasia Philipovna will accept you, and that the question
is as good as settled; and secondly, that even if she did, you
would be able to pocket the money. Of course, I know very little
about it, but that's my view. When a man marries for money it
often happens that the wife keeps the money in her own hands."

"Of course, you don't know all; but, I assure you, you needn't be
afraid, it won't be like that in our case. There are
circumstances," said Gania, rather excitedly. "And as to her
answer to me, there's no doubt about that. Why should you suppose
she will refuse me?"

"Oh, I only judge by what I see. Varvara Ardalionovna said just
now--"

"Oh she--they don't know anything about it! Nastasia was only
chaffing Rogojin. I was alarmed at first, but I have thought
better of it now; she was simply laughing at him. She looks on me
as a fool because I show that I meant her money, and doesn't
realize that there are other men who would deceive her in far
worse fashion. I'm not going to pretend anything, and you'll see
she'll marry me, all right. If she likes to live quietly, so she
shall; but if she gives me any of her nonsense, I shall leave her
at once, but I shall keep the money. I'm not going to look a
fool; that's the first thing, not to look a fool."

"But Nastasia Philipovna seems to me to be such a SENSIBLE woman,
and, as such, why should she run blindly into this business?
That's what puzzles me so," said the prince.

"You don't know all, you see; I tell you there are things--and
besides, I'm sure that she is persuaded that I love her to
distraction, and I give you my word I have a strong suspicion
that she loves me, too--in her own way, of course. She thinks she
will be able to make a sort of slave of me all my life; but I
shall prepare a little surprise for her. I don't know whether I
ought to be confidential with you, prince; but, I assure you, you
are the only decent fellow I have come across. I have not spoken
so sincerely as I am doing at this moment for years. There are
uncommonly few honest people about, prince; there isn't one
honester than Ptitsin, he's the best of the lot. Are you
laughing? You don't know, perhaps, that blackguards like honest
people, and being one myself I like you. WHY am I a blackguard?
Tell me honestly, now. They all call me a blackguard because of
her, and I have got into the way of thinking myself one. That's
what is so bad about the business."

"I for one shall never think you a blackguard again," said the
prince. "I confess I had a poor opinion of you at first, but I
have been so joyfully surprised about you just now; it's a good
lesson for me. I shall never judge again without a thorough
trial. I see now that you are riot only not a blackguard, but are
not even quite spoiled. I see that you are quite an ordinary man,
not original in the least degree, but rather weak."

Gania laughed sarcastically, but said nothing. The prince, seeing
that he did not quite like the last remark, blushed, and was
silent too.

"Has my father asked you for money?" asked Gania, suddenly.

"No."

"Don't give it to him if he does. Fancy, he was a decent,
respectable man once! He was received in the best society; he was
not always the liar he is now. Of course, wine is at the bottom
of it all; but he is a good deal worse than an innocent liar now.
Do you know that he keeps a mistress? I can't understand how
mother is so long-sufferring. Did he tell you the story of the
siege of Kars? Or perhaps the one about his grey horse that
talked? He loves, to enlarge on these absurd histories." And
Gania burst into a fit of laughter. Suddenly he turned to the
prince and asked: "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I am surprised to see you laugh in that way, like a child. You
came to make friends with me again just now, and you said, 'I
will kiss your hand, if you like,' just as a child would have
said it. And then, all at once you are talking of this mad
project--of these seventy-five thousand roubles! It all seems so
absurd and impossible."

"Well, what conclusion have you reached?"

"That you are rushing madly into the undertaking, and that you
would do well to think it over again. It is more than possible
that Varvara Ardalionovna is right."

"Ah! now you begin to moralize! I know that I am only a child,
very well," replied Gania impatiently. "That is proved by my
having this conversation with you. It is not for money only,
prince, that I am rushing into this affair," he continued, hardly
master of his words, so closely had his vanity been touched. "If
I reckoned on that I should certainly be deceived, for I am still
too weak in mind and character. I am obeying a passion, an
impulse perhaps, because I have but one aim, one that overmasters
all else. You imagine that once I am in possession of these
seventy-five thousand roubles, I shall rush to buy a carriage...
No, I shall go on wearing the old overcoat I have worn for
three years, and I shall give up my club. I shall follow the
example of men who have made their fortunes. When Ptitsin was
seventeen he slept in the street, he sold pen-knives, and began
with a copeck; now he has sixty thousand roubles, but to get
them, what has he not done? Well, I shall be spared such a hard
beginning, and shall start with a little capital. In fifteen
years people will say, 'Look, that's Ivolgin, the king of the
Jews!' You say that I have no originality. Now mark this, prince--
there is nothing so offensive to a man of our time and race than
to be told that he is wanting in originality, that he is weak in
character, has no particular talent, and is, in short, an
ordinary person. You have not even done me the honour of looking
upon me as a rogue. Do you know, I could have knocked you down
for that just now! You wounded me more cruelly than Epanchin,
who thinks me capable of selling him my wife! Observe, it was a
perfectly gratuitous idea on his part, seeing there has never
been any discussion of it between us! This has exasperated me,
and I am determined to make a fortune! I will do it! Once I am
rich, I shall be a genius, an extremely original man. One of the
vilest and most hateful things connected with money is that it
can buy even talent; and will do so as long as the world lasts.
You will say that this is childish--or romantic. Well, that will
be all the better for me, but the thing shall be done. I will
carry it through. He laughs most, who laughs last. Why does
Epanchin insult me? Simply because, socially, I am a nobody.
However, enough for the present. Colia has put his nose in to
tell us dinner is ready, twice. I'm dining out. I shall come and
talk to you now and then; you shall be comfortable enough with
us. They are sure to make you one of the family. I think you and
I will either be great friends or enemies. Look here now,
supposing I had kissed your hand just now, as I offered to do in
all sincerity, should I have hated you for it afterwards?"

"Certainly, but not always. You would not have been able to keep
it up, and would have ended by forgiving me," said the prince,
after a pause for reflection, and with a pleasant smile.

"Oho, how careful one has to be with you, prince! Haven't you put
a drop of poison in that remark now, eh? By the way--ha, ha, ha!--
I forgot to ask, was I right in believing that you were a good
deal struck yourself with Nastasia Philipovna

"Ye-yes."

"Are you in love with her?"

"N-no."

"And yet you flush up as red as a rosebud! Come--it's all right.
I'm not going to laugh at you. Do you know she is a very virtuous
woman? Believe it or not, as you like. You think she and Totski--
not a bit of it, not a bit of it! Not for ever so long! Au
revoir!"

Gania left the room in great good humour. The prince stayed
behind, and meditated alone for a few minutes. At length, Colia
popped his head in once more.

"I don't want any dinner, thanks, Colia. I had too good a lunch
at General Epanchin's."

Colia came into the room and gave the prince a note; it was from
the general and was carefully sealed up. It was clear from
Colia's face how painful it was to him to deliver the missive.
The prince read it, rose, and took his hat.

"It's only a couple of yards," said Colia, blushing.

"He's sitting there over his bottle--and how they can give him
credit, I cannot understand. Don't tell mother I brought you the
note, prince; I have sworn not to do it a thousand times, but I'm
always so sorry for him. Don't stand on ceremony, give him some
trifle, and let that end it."

"Come along, Colia, I want to see your father. I have an idea,"
said the prince.

XII

Colia took the prince to a public-house in the Litaynaya, not far
off. In one of the side rooms there sat at a table--looking like
one of the regular guests of the establishment--Ardalion
Alexandrovitch, with a bottle before him, and a newspaper on his
knee. He was waiting for the prince, and no sooner did the latter
appear than he began a long harangue about something or other;
but so far gone was he that the prince could hardly understand a
word.

"I have not got a ten-rouble note," said the prince; "but here is
a twenty-five. Change it and give me back the fifteen, or I shall
be left without a farthing myself."

"Oh, of course, of course; and you quite understand that I--"

"Yes; and I have another request to make, general. Have you ever
been at Nastasia Philipovna's?"

"I? I? Do you mean me? Often, my friend, often! I only pretended
I had not in order to avoid a painful subject. You saw today,
you were a witness, that I did all that a kind, an indulgent
father could do. Now a father of altogether another type shall
step into the scene. You shall see; the old soldier shall lay
bare this intrigue, or a shameless woman will force her way into
a respectable and noble family."

"Yes, quite so. I wished to ask you whether you could show me the
way to Nastasia Philipovna's tonight. I must go; I have business
with her; I was not invited but I was introduced. Anyhow I am
ready to trespass the laws of propriety if only I can get in
somehow or other."

"My dear young friend, you have hit on my very idea. It was not
for this rubbish I asked you to come over here" (he pocketed the
money, however, at this point), "it was to invite your alliance
in the campaign against Nastasia Philipovna tonight. How well it
sounds, 'General Ivolgin and Prince Muishkin.' That'll fetch her,
I think, eh? Capital! We'll go at nine; there's time yet."

"Where does she live?"

"Oh, a long way off, near the Great Theatre, just in the square
there--It won't be a large party."

The general sat on and on. He had ordered a fresh bottle when the
prince arrived; this took him an hour to drink, and then he had
another, and another, during the consumption of which he told
pretty nearly the whole story of his life. The prince was in
despair. He felt that though he had but applied to this miserable
old drunkard because he saw no other way of getting to Nastasia
Philipovna's, yet he had been very wrong to put the slightest
confidence in such a man.

At last he rose and declared that he would wait no longer. The
general rose too, drank the last drops that he could squeeze out
of the bottle, and staggered into the street.

Muishkin began to despair. He could not imagine how he had been
so foolish as to trust this man. He only wanted one thing, and
that was to get to Nastasia Philipovna's, even at the cost of a
certain amount of impropriety. But now the scandal threatened to
be more than he had bargained for. By this time Ardalion
Alexandrovitch was quite intoxicated, and he kept his companion
listening while he discoursed eloquently and pathetically on
subjects of all kinds, interspersed with torrents of
recrimination against the members of his family. He insisted that
all his troubles were caused by their bad conduct, and time alone
would put an end to them.

At last they reached the Litaynaya. The thaw increased steadily,
a warm, unhealthy wind blew through the streets, vehicles
splashed through the mud, and the iron shoes of horses and mules
rang on the paving stones. Crowds of melancholy people plodded
wearily along the footpaths, with here and there a drunken man
among them.

"Do you see those brightly-lighted windows?" said the general.
"Many of my old comrades-in-arms live about here, and I, who
served longer, and suffered more than any of them, am walking on
foot to the house of a woman of rather questionable reputation!
A man, look you, who has thirteen bullets on his breast! ... You
don't believe it? Well, I can assure you it was entirely on my
account that Pirogoff telegraphed to Paris, and left Sebastopol
at the greatest risk during the siege. Nelaton, the Tuileries
surgeon, demanded a safe conduct, in the name of science, into
the besieged city in order to attend my wounds. The government
knows all about it. 'That's the Ivolgin with thirteen bullets in
him!' That's how they speak of me.... Do you see that house,
prince? One of my old friends lives on the first floor, with his
large family. In this and five other houses, three overlooking
Nevsky, two in the Morskaya, are all that remain of my personal
friends. Nina Alexandrovna gave them up long ago, but I keep in
touch with them still... I may say I find refreshment in this
little coterie, in thus meeting my old acquaintances and
subordinates, who worship me still, in spite of all. General
Sokolovitch (by the way, I have not called on him lately, or seen
Anna Fedorovna)... You know, my dear prince, when a person does
not receive company himself, he gives up going to other people's
houses involuntarily. And yet ... well ... you look as if you
didn't believe me.... Well now, why should I not present the son
of my old friend and companion to this delightful family--General
Ivolgin and Prince Muishkin? You will see a lovely girl--what am
I saying--a lovely girl? No, indeed, two, three! Ornaments of
this city and of society: beauty, education, culture--the woman
question--poetry--everything! Added to which is the fact that
each one will have a dot of at least eighty thousand roubles. No
bad thing, eh? ... In a word I absolutely must introduce you to
them: it is a duty, an obligation. General Ivolgin and Prince
Muishkin. Tableau!"

"At once? Now? You must have forgotten ... " began the prince.

"No, I have forgotten nothing. Come! This is the house--up this
magnificent staircase. I am surprised not to see the porter, but
.... it is a holiday ... and the man has gone off ... Drunken
fool! Why have they not got rid of him? Sokolovitch owes all the
happiness he has had in the service and in his private life to
me, and me alone, but ... here we are."

The prince followed quietly, making no further objection for fear
of irritating the old man. At the same time he fervently hoped
that General Sokolovitch and his family would fade away like a
mirage in the desert, so that the visitors could escape, by
merely returning downstairs. But to his horror he saw that
General Ivolgin was quite familiar with the house, and really
seemed to have friends there. At every step he named some
topographical or biographical detail that left nothing to be
desired on the score of accuracy. When they arrived at last, on
the first floor, and the general turned to ring the bell to the
right, the prince decided to run away, but a curious incident
stopped him momentarily.

"You have made a mistake, general," said he. " The name on the
door is Koulakoff, and you were going to see General
Sokolovitch."

"Koulakoff ... Koulakoff means nothing. This is Sokolovitch's
flat, and I am ringing at his door.... What do I care for
Koulakoff? ... Here comes someone to open."

In fact, the door opened directly, and the footman in formed the
visitors that the family were all away.

"What a pity! What a pity! It's just my luck!" repeated Ardalion
Alexandrovitch over and over again, in regretful tones. " When
your master and mistress return, my man, tell them that General
Ivolgin and Prince Muishkin desired to present themselves, and
that they were extremely sorry, excessively grieved ..."

Just then another person belonging to the household was seen at
the back of the hall. It was a woman of some forty years, dressed
in sombre colours, probably a housekeeper or a governess. Hearing
the names she came forward with a look of suspicion on her face.

"Marie Alexandrovna is not at home," said she, staring hard at
the general. "She has gone to her mother's, with Alexandra
Michailovna."

"Alexandra Michailovna out, too! How disappointing! Would you
believe it, I am always so unfortunate! May I most respectfully
ask you to present my compliments to Alexandra Michailovna, and
remind her ... tell her, that with my whole heart I wish for
her what she wished for herself on Thursday evening, while she
was listening to Chopin's Ballade. She will remember. I wish it
with all sincerity. General Ivolgin and Prince Muishkin!"

The woman's face changed; she lost her suspicious expression.

"I will not fail to deliver your message," she replied, and bowed
them out.

As they went downstairs the general regretted repeatedly that he
had failed to introduce the prince to his friends.

"You know I am a bit of a poet," said he. "Have you noticed it?
The poetic soul, you know." Then he added suddenly--"But after
all ... after all I believe we made a mistake this time! I
remember that the Sokolovitch's live in another house, and what
is more, they are just now in Moscow. Yes, I certainly was at
fault. However, it is of no consequence."

"Just tell me," said the prince in reply, "may I count still on
your assistance? Or shall I go on alone to see Nastasia
Philipovna?"

"Count on my assistance? Go alone? How can you ask me that
question, when it is a matter on which the fate of my family so
largely depends? You don't know Ivolgin, my friend. To trust
Ivolgin is to trust a rock; that's how the first squadron I
commanded spoke of me. 'Depend upon Ivolgin,' said they all, 'he
is as steady as a rock.' But, excuse me, I must just call at a
house on our way, a house where I have found consolation and help
in all my trials for years."

"You are going home?"

"No ... I wish ... to visit Madame Terentieff, the widow of
Captain Terentieff, my old subordinate and friend. She helps me
to keep up my courage, and to bear the trials of my domestic
life, and as I have an extra burden on my mind today ..."

"It seems to me," interrupted the prince, "that I was foolish to
trouble you just now. However, at present you ... Good-bye!"

"Indeed, you must not go away like that, young man, you must
not!" cried the general. "My friend here is a widow, the mother
of a family; her words come straight from her heart, and find an
echo in mine. A visit to her is merely an affair of a few
minutes; I am quite at home in her house. I will have a wash, and
dress, and then we can drive to the Grand Theatre. Make up your
mind to spend the evening with me.... We are just there--that's
the house...  Why, Colia! you here! Well, is Marfa Borisovna
at home or have you only just come?"

"Oh no! I have been here a long while," replied Colia, who was at
the front door when the general met him. "I am keeping Hippolyte
company. He is worse, and has been in bed all day. I came down to
buy some cards. Marfa Borisovna expects you. But what a state you
are in, father!" added the boy, noticing his father's unsteady
gait. "Well, let us go in."

On meeting Colia the prince determined to accompany the general,
though he made up his mind to stay as short a time as possible.
He wanted Colia, but firmly resolved to leave the general behind.
He could not forgive himself for being so simple as to imagine
that Ivolgin would be of any use. The three climbed up the long
staircase until they reached the fourth floor where Madame
Terentieff lived.

"You intend to introduce the prince?" asked Colia, as they went
up.

"Yes, my boy. I wish to present him: General Ivolgin and Prince
Muishkin! But what's the matter? ... what? ... How is Marfa
Borisovna?"

"You know, father, you would have done much better not to come
at all! She is ready to eat you up! You have not shown yourself
since the day before yesterday and she is expecting the money.
Why did you promise her any? You are always the same! Well, now
you will have to get out of it as best you can."

They stopped before a somewhat low doorway on the fourth floor.
Ardalion Alexandrovitch, evidently much out of countenance,
pushed Muishkin in front.

"I will wait here," he stammered. "I should like to surprise her.
...."

Colia entered first, and as the door stood open, the mistress of
the house peeped out. The surprise of the general's imagination
fell very flat, for she at once began to address him in terms of
reproach.

Marfa Borisovna was about forty years of age. She wore a
dressing-jacket, her feet were in slippers, her face painted, and
her hair was in dozens of small plaits. No sooner did she catch
sight of Ardalion Alexandrovitch than she screamed:

"There he is, that wicked, mean wretch! I knew it was he! My
heart misgave me!"

The old man tried to put a good face on the affair.

"Come, let us go in--it's all right," he whispered in the
prince's ear.

But it was more serious than he wished to think. As soon as the
visitors had crossed the low dark hall, and entered the narrow
reception-room, furnished with half a dozen cane chairs, and two
small card-tables, Madame Terentieff, in the shrill tones
habitual to her, continued her stream of invectives.

"Are you not ashamed? Are you not ashamed? You barbarian! You
tyrant! You have robbed me of all I possessed--you have sucked my
bones to the marrow. How long shall I be your victim? Shameless,
dishonourable man!"

"Marfa Borisovna! Marfa Borisovna! Here is ... the Prince
Muishkin! General Ivolgin and Prince Muishkin," stammered the
disconcerted old man.

"Would you believe," said the mistress of the house, suddenly
addressing the prince, "would you believe that that man has not
even spared my orphan children? He has stolen everything I
possessed, sold everything, pawned everything; he has left me
nothing--nothing! What am I to do with your IOU's, you cunning,
unscrupulous rogue? Answer, devourer I answer, heart of stone!
How shall I feed my orphans? with what shall I nourish them? And
now he has come, he is drunk! He can scarcely stand. How, oh how,
have I offended the Almighty, that He should bring this curse
upon me! Answer, you worthless villain, answer!"

But this was too much for the general.

"Here are twenty-five roubles, Marfa Borisovna ... it is all
that I can give ... and I owe even these to the prince's
generosity--my noble friend. I have been cruelly deceived. Such
is ... life ... Now ... Excuse me, I am very weak," he
continued, standing in the centre of the room, and bowing to all
sides. "I am faint; excuse me! Lenotchka ... a cushion ... my
dear!"

Lenotchka, a little girl of eight, ran to fetch the cushion at
once, and placed it on the rickety old sofa. The general meant to
have said much more, but as soon as he had stretched himself out,
he turned his face to the wall, and slept the sleep of the just.

With a grave and ceremonious air, Marfa Borisovna motioned the
prince to a chair at one of the card-tables. She seated herself
opposite, leaned her right cheek on her hand, and sat in silence,
her eyes fixed on Muishkin, now and again sighing deeply. The
three children, two little girls and a boy, Lenotchka being the
eldest, came and leant on the table and also stared steadily at
him. Presently Colia appeared from the adjoining room.

"I am very glad indeed to have met you here, Colia," said the
prince. "Can you do something for me? I must see Nastasia
Philipovna, and I asked Ardalion Alexandrovitch just now to take
me to her house, but he has gone to sleep, as you see. Will you
show me the way, for I do not know the street? I have the
address, though; it is close to the Grand Theatre."

"Nastasia Philipovna? She does not live there, and to tell you
the truth my father has never been to her house! It is strange
that you should have depended on him! She lives near Wladimir
Street, at the Five Corners, and it is quite close by. Will you
go directly? It is just half-past nine. I will show you the way
with pleasure."

Colia and the prince went off together. Alas! the latter had no
money to pay for a cab, so they were obliged to walk.

"I should have liked to have taken you to see Hippolyte," said
Colia. "He is the eldest son of the lady you met just now, and
was in the next room. He is ill, and has been in bed all day. But
he is rather strange, and extremely sensitive, and I thought he
might be upset considering the circumstances in which you
came ... Somehow it touches me less, as it concerns my father,
while it is HIS mother. That, of course, makes a great
difference. What is a terrible disgrace to a woman, does not
disgrace a man, at least not in the same way. Perhaps public
opinion is wrong in condemning one sex, and excusing the other.
Hippolyte is an extremely clever boy, but so prejudiced. He is
really a slave to his opinions."

"Do you say he is consumptive?"

"Yes. It really would be happier for him to die young. If I were
in his place I should certainly long for death. He is unhappy
about his brother and sisters, the children you saw. If it were
possible, if we only had a little money, we should leave our
respective families, and live together in a little apartment of
our own. It is our dream. But, do you know, when I was talking
over your affair with him, he was angry, and said that anyone who
did not call out a man who had given him a blow was a coward. He
is very irritable to-day, and I left off arguing the matter with
him. So Nastasia Philipovna has invited you to go and see her?"

"To tell the truth, she has not."

"Then how do you come to be going there?" cried Colia, so much
astonished that he stopped short in the middle of the pavement.
"And ... and are you going to her At Home in that costume?"

"I don't know, really, whether I shall be allowed in at all. If
she will receive me, so much the better. If not, the matter is
ended. As to my clothes--what can I do?"

"Are you going there for some particular reason, or only as a way
of getting into her society, and that of her friends?"

"No, I have really an object in going ... That is, I am going
on business it is difficult to explain, but..."

"Well, whether you go on business or not is your affair,
I do not want to know. The only important thing, in my eyes, is
that you should not be going there simply for the pleasure of
spending your evening in such company--cocottes, generals,
usurers! If that were the case I should despise and laugh at you.
There are terribly few honest people here, and hardly any whom
one can respect, although people put on airs--Varia especially!
Have you noticed, prince, how many adventurers there are
nowadays? Especially here, in our dear Russia. How it has
happened I never can understand. There used to be a certain
amount of solidity in all things, but now what happens?
Everything is exposed to the public gaze, veils are thrown back,
every wound is probed by careless fingers. We are for ever
present at an orgy of scandalous revelations. Parents blush when
they remember their old-fashioned morality. At Moscow lately a
father was heard urging his son to stop at nothing--at nothing,
mind you!--to get money! The press seized upon the story, of
course, and now it is public property. Look at my father, the
general! See what he is, and yet, I assure you, he is an honest
man! Only ... he drinks too much, and his morals are not all we
could desire. Yes, that's true! I pity him, to tell the truth,
but I dare not say so, because everybody would laugh at me--but I
do pity him! And who are the really clever men, after all? Money-
grubbers, every one of them, from the first to the last.
Hippolyte finds excuses for money-lending, and says it is a
necessity. He talks about the economic movement, and the ebb and
flow of capital; the devil knows what he means. It makes me angry
to hear him talk so, but he is soured by his troubles. Just
imagine-the general keeps his mother-but she lends him money! She
lends it for a week or ten days at very high interest! Isn't it
disgusting? And then, you would hardly believe it, but my mother--
Nina Alexandrovna--helps Hippolyte in all sorts of ways, sends
him money and clothes. She even goes as far as helping the
children, through Hippolyte, because their mother cares nothing
about them, and Varia does the same."

"Well, just now you said there were no honest nor good people
about, that there were only money-grubbers--and here they are
quite close at hand, these honest and good people, your mother
and Varia! I think there is a good deal of moral strength in
helping people in suchcircum stances."

"Varia does it from pride, and likes showing off, and giving
herself airs. As to my mother, I really do admire her--yes, and
honour her. Hippolyte, hardened as he is, feels it. He laughed at
first, and thought it vulgar of her--but now, he is sometimes
quite touched and overcome by her kindness. H'm! You call that
being strong and good? I will remember that! Gania knows nothing
about it. He would say that it was encouraging vice."

"Ah, Gania knows nothing about it? It seems there are many things
that Gania does not know," exclaimed the prince, as he considered
Colia's last words.

"Do you know, I like you very much indeed, prince? I shall never
forget about this afternoon."

"I like you too, Colia."

"Listen to me! You are going to live here, are you not?" said
Colia. "I mean to get something to do directly, and earn money.
Then shall we three live together? You, and I, and Hippolyte? We
will hire a flat, and let the general come and visit us. What do
you say?"

"It would be very pleasant," returned the prince. "But we must see.
I am really rather worried just now. What! are we there already?
Is that the house? What a long flight of steps! And there's a
porter! Well, Colia I don't know what will come of it all."

The prince seemed quite distracted for the moment.

"You must tell me all about it tomorrow! Don't be afraid. I wish
you success; we agree so entirely I that can do so, although I do
not understand why you are here. Good-bye!" cried Colia excitedly.
"Now I will rush back and tell Hippolyte all about our plans and
proposals! But as to your getting in--don't be in the least
afraid. You will see her. She is so original about everything. It's
the first floor. The porter will show you."

XIII

THE prince was very nervous as he reached the outer door; but he
did his best to encourage himself with the reflection that the
worst thing that could happen to him would be that he would not
be received, or, perhaps, received, then laughed at for coming.

But there was another question, which terrified him considerably,
and that was: what was he going to do when he DID get in? And to
this question he could fashion no satisfactory reply.

If only he could find an opportunity of coming close up to
Nastasia Philipovna and saying to her: "Don't ruin yourself by
marrying this man. He does not love you, he only loves your
money. He told me so himself, and so did Aglaya Ivanovna, and I
have come on purpose to warn you"--but even that did not seem
quite a legitimate or practicable thing to do. Then, again, there
was another delicate question, to which he could not find an
answer; dared not, in fact, think of it; but at the very idea of
which he trembled and blushed. However, in spite of all his fears
and heart-quakings he went in, and asked for Nastasia Philipovna.

Nastasia occupied a medium-sized, but distinctly tasteful, flat,
beautifully furnished and arranged. At one period of these five
years of Petersburg life, Totski had certainly not spared his
expenditure upon her. He had calculated upon her eventual love,
and tried to tempt her with a lavish outlay upon comforts and
luxuries, knowing too well how easily the heart accustoms itself
to comforts, and how difficult it is to tear one's self away from
luxuries which have become habitual and, little by little,
indispensable.

Nastasia did not reject all this, she even loved her comforts and
luxuries, but, strangely enough, never became, in the least
degree, dependent upon them, and always gave the impression that
she could do just as well without them. In fact, she went so far
as to inform Totski on several occasions that such was the case,
which the latter gentleman considered a very unpleasant
communication indeed.

But, of late, Totski had observed many strange and original
features and characteristics in Nastasia, which he had neither
known nor reckoned upon in former times, and some of these
fascinated him, even now, in spite of the fact that all his old
calculations with regard to her were long ago cast to the winds.

A maid opened the door for the prince (Nastasia's servants were
all females) and, to his surprise, received his request to
announce him to her mistress without any astonishment. Neither
his dirty boots, nor his wide-brimmed hat, nor his sleeveless
cloak, nor his evident confusion of manner, produced the least
impression upon her. She helped him off with his cloak, and
begged him to wait a moment in the ante-room while she announced
him.

The company assembled at Nastasia Philipovna's consisted of none
but her most intimate friends, and formed a very small party in
comparison with her usual gatherings on this anniversary.

In the first place there were present Totski, and General
Epanchin. They were both highly amiable, but both appeared to be
labouring under a half-hidden feeling of anxiety as to the result
of Nastasia's deliberations with regard to Gania, which result
was to be made public this evening.

Then, of course, there was Gania who was by no means so amiable
as his elders, but stood apart, gloomy, and miserable, and
silent. He had determined not to bring Varia with him; but
Nastasia had not even asked after her, though no sooner had he
arrived than she had reminded him of the episode between himself
and the prince. The general, who had heard nothing of it before,
began to listen with some interest, while Gania, drily, but with
perfect candour, went through the whole history, including the
fact of his apology to the prince. He finished by declaring that
the prince was a most extraordinary man, and goodness knows why
he had been considered an idiot hitherto, for he was very far
from being one.

Nastasia listened to all this with great interest; but the
conversation soon turned to Rogojin and his visit, and this theme
proved of the greatest attraction to both Totski and the general.

Ptitsin was able to afford some particulars as to Rogojin's
conduct since the afternoon. He declared that he had been busy
finding money for the latter ever since, and up to nine o'clock,
Rogojin having declared that he must absolutely have a hundred
thousand roubles by the evening. He added that Rogojin was drunk,
of course; but that he thought the money would be forthcoming,
for the excited and intoxicated rapture of the fellow impelled
him to give any interest or premium that was asked of him, and
there were several others engaged in beating up the money, also.

All this news was received by the company with somewhat gloomy
interest. Nastasia was silent, and would not say what she thought
about it. Gania was equally uncommunicative. The general seemed
the most anxious of all, and decidedly uneasy. The present of
pearls which he had prepared with so much joy in the morning had
been accepted but coldly, and Nastasia had smiled rather
disagreeably as she took it from him. Ferdishenko was the only
person present in good spirits.

Totski himself, who had the reputation of being a capital talker,
and was usually the life and soul of these entertainments, was as
silent as any on this occasion, and sat in a state of, for him,
most uncommon perturbation.

The rest of the guests (an old tutor or schoolmaster, goodness
knows why invited; a young man, very timid, and shy and silent; a
rather loud woman of about forty, apparently an actress; and a
very pretty, well-dressed German lady who hardly said a word all
the evening) not only had no gift for enlivening the proceedings,
but hardly knew what to say for themselves when addressed. Under
these circumstances the arrival of the prince came almost as a
godsend.

The announcement of his name gave rise to some surprise and to
some smiles, especially when it became evident, from Nastasia's
astonished look, that she had not thought of inviting him. But
her astonishment once over, Nastasia showed such satisfaction
that all prepared to greet the prince with cordial smiles of
welcome.

"Of course," remarked General Epanchin, "he does this out of pure
innocence. It's a little dangerous, perhaps, to encourage this
sort of freedom; but it is rather a good thing that he has
arrived just at this moment. He may enliven us a little with his
originalities."

"Especially as he asked himself," said Ferdishenko.

"What's that got to do with it?" asked the general, who loathed
Ferdishenko.

"Why, he must pay toll for his entrance," explained the latter.

"H'm! Prince Muishkin is not Ferdishenko," said the general,
impatiently. This worthy gentleman could never quite reconcile
himself to the idea of meeting Ferdishenko in society, and on an
equal footing.

"Oh general, spare Ferdishenko!" replied the other, smiling. "I
have special privileges."

"What do you mean by special privileges?"

"Once before I had the honour of stating them to the company. I
will repeat the explanation to-day for your excellency's benefit.
You see, excellency, all the world is witty and clever except
myself. I am neither. As a kind of compensation I am allowed to
tell the truth, for it is a well-known fact that only stupid
people tell 'the truth. Added to this, I am a spiteful man, just
because I am not clever. If I am offended or injured I bear it
quite patiently until the man injuring me meets with some
misfortune. Then I remember, and take my revenge. I return the
injury sevenfold, as Ivan Petrovitch Ptitsin says. (Of course he
never does so himself.) Excellency, no doubt you recollect
Kryloff's fable, 'The Lion and the Ass'? Well now, that's you and
I. That fable was written precisely for us."

"You seem to be talking nonsense again, Ferdishenko," growled the
general.

"What is the matter, excellency? I know how to keep my place.
When I said just now that we, you and I, were the lion and the
ass of Kryloff's fable, of course it is understood that I take
the role of the ass. Your excellency is the lion of which the
fable remarks:

'A mighty lion, terror of the woods,
Was shorn of his great prowess by old age.'

And I, your excellency, am the ass."

"I am of your opinion on that last point," said Ivan Fedorovitch,
with ill-concealed irritation.

All this was no doubt extremely coarse, and moreover it was
premeditated, but after all Ferdishenko had persuaded everyone to
accept him as a buffoon.

"If I am admitted and tolerated here," he had said one day, "it
is simply because I talk in this way. How can anyone possibly
receive such a man as I am? I quite understand. Now, could I, a
Ferdishenko, be allowed to sit shoulder to shoulder with a clever
man like Afanasy Ivanovitch? There is one explanation, only one.
I am given the position because it is so entirely inconceivable!"

But these vulgarities seemed to please Nastasia Philipovna,
although too often they were both rude and offensive. Those who
wished to go to her house were forced to put up with Ferdishenko.
Possibly the latter was not mistaken in imagining that he was
received simply in order to annoy Totski, who disliked him
extremely. Gania also was often made the butt of the jester's
sarcasms, who used this method of keeping in Nastasia
Philipovna's good graces.

"The prince will begin by singing us a fashionable ditty,"
remarked Ferdishenko, and looked at the mistress of the house, to
see what she would say.

"I don't think so, Ferdishenko; please be quiet," answered
Nastasia Philipovna dryly.

"A-ah! if he is to be under special patronage, I withdraw my
claws."

But Nastasia Philipovna had now risen and advanced to meet the
prince.

"I was so sorry to have forgotten to ask you to come, when I saw
you," she said, "and I am delighted to be able to thank you
personally now, and to express my pleasure at your resolution."

So saying she gazed into his eyes, longing to see whether she
could make any guess as to the explanation of his motive in
coming to her house. The prince would very likely have made some
reply to her kind words, but he was so dazzled by her appearance
that he could not speak.

Nastasia noticed this with satisfaction. She was in full dress
this evening; and her appearance was certainly calculated to
impress all beholders. She took his hand and led him towards her
other guests. But just before they reached the drawing-room door,
the prince stopped her, and hurriedly and in great agitation
whispered to her:

"You are altogether perfection; even your pallor and thinness are
perfect; one could not wish you otherwise. I did so wish to come
and see you. I--forgive me, please--"

"Don't apologize," said Nastasia, laughing; "you spoil the whole
originality of the thing. I think what they say about you must be
true, that you are so original.--So you think me perfection, do
you?"

"Yes."

"H'm! Well, you may be a good reader of riddles but you are wrong
THERE, at all events. I'll remind you of this, tonight."

Nastasia introduced the prince to her guests, to most of whom he
was already known.

Totski immediately made some amiable remark. Al seemed to
brighten up at once, and the conversation became general.
Nastasia made the prince sit down next to herself.

"Dear me, there's nothing so very curious about the prince
dropping in, after all," remarked Ferdishenko.

"It's quite a clear case," said the hitherto silent Gania. I have
watched the prince almost all day, ever since the moment when he
first saw Nastasia Philipovna's portrait, at General Epanchin's.
I remember thinking at the time what I am now pretty sure of; and
what, I may say in passing, the prince confessed to myself."

Gania said all this perfectly seriously, and without the
slightest appearance of joking; indeed, he seemed strangely
gloomy.

"I did not confess anything to you," said the prince, blushing.
"I only answered your question."

"Bravo! That's frank, at any rate!" shouted Ferdishenko, and
there was general laughter.

"Oh prince, prince! I never should have thought it of you;" said
General Epanchin. "And I imagined you a philosopher! Oh, you
silent fellows!"

"Judging from the fact that the prince blushed at this innocent
joke, like a young girl, I should think that he must, as an
honourable man, harbour the noblest intentions," said the old
toothless schoolmaster, most unexpectedly; he had not so much as
opened his mouth before. This remark provoked general mirth, and
the old fellow himself laughed loudest of the lot, but ended with
a stupendous fit of coughing.

Nastasia Philipovna, who loved originality and drollery of all
kinds, was apparently very fond of this old man, and rang the
bell for more tea to stop his coughing. It was now half-past ten
o'clock.

"Gentlemen, wouldn't you like a little champagne now?" she asked.
"I have it all ready; it will cheer us up--do now--no ceremony!"

This invitation to drink, couched, as it was, in such informal
terms, came very strangely from Nastasia Philipovna. Her usual
entertainments were not quite like this; there was more style
about them. However, the wine was not refused; each guest took a
glass excepting Gania, who drank nothing.

It was extremely difficult to account for Nastasia's strange
condition of mind, which became more evident each moment, and
which none could avoid noticing.

She took her glass, and vowed she would empty it three times that
evening. She was hysterical, and laughed aloud every other minute
with no apparent reason--the next moment relapsing into gloom and
thoughtfulness.

Some of her guests suspected that she must be ill; but concluded
at last that she was expecting something, for she continued to
look at her watch impatiently and unceasingly; she was most
absent and strange.

"You seem to be a little feverish tonight," said the actress.

"Yes; I feel quite ill. I have been obliged to put on this shawl
--I feel so cold," replied Nastasia. She certainly had grown very
pale, and every now and then she tried to suppress a trembling in
her limbs.

"Had we not better allow our hostess to retire?" asked Totski of
the general.

"Not at all, gentlemen, not at all! Your presence is absolutely
necessary to me tonight," said Nastasia, significantly.

As most of those present were aware that this evening a certain
very important decision was to be taken, these words of Nastasia
Philipovna's appeared to be fraught with much hidden interest.
The general and Totski exchanged looks; Gania fidgeted
convulsively in his chair.

"Let's play at some game!" suggested the actress.

"I know a new and most delightful game, added Ferdishenko.

"What is it?" asked the actress.

"Well, when we tried it we were a party of people, like this, for
instance; and somebody proposed that each of us, without leaving
his place at the table, should relate something about himself. It
had to be something that he really and honestly considered the
very worst action he had ever committed in his life. But he was
to be honest--that was the chief point! He wasn't to be allowed
to lie."

"What an extraordinary idea!" said the general.

"That's the beauty of it, general!"

"It's a funny notion," said Totski, "and yet quite natural--it's
only a new way of boasting."

"Perhaps that is just what was so fascinating about it."

"Why, it would be a game to cry over--not to laugh at!" said the
actress.

"Did it succeed?" asked Nastasia Philipovna. "Come, let's try it,
let's try it; we really are not quite so jolly as we might be--
let's try it! We may like it; it's original, at all events!"

"Yes," said Ferdishenko; "it's a good idea--come along--the men
begin. Of course no one need tell a story if he prefers to be
disobliging. We must draw lots! Throw your slips of paper,
gentlemen, into this hat, and the prince shall draw for turns.
It's a very simple game; all you have to do is to tell the story
of the worst action of your life. It's as simple as anything.
I'll prompt anyone who forgets the rules!"

No one liked the idea much. Some smiled, some frowned some
objected, but faintly, not wishing to oppose Nastasia's wishes;
for this new idea seemed to be rather well received by her. She
was still in an excited, hysterical state, laughing convulsively
at nothing and everything. Her eyes were blazing, and her cheeks
showed two bright red spots against the white. The melancholy
appearance of some of her guests seemed to add to her sarcastic
humour, and perhaps the very cynicism and cruelty of the game
proposed by Ferdishenko pleased her. At all events she was
attracted by the idea, and gradually her guests came round to her
side; the thing was original, at least, and might turn out to be
amusing. "And supposing it's something that one--one can't speak
about before ladies?" asked the timid and silent young man.

"Why, then of course, you won't say anything about it. As if
there are not plenty of sins to your score without the need of
those!" said Ferdishenko.

"But I really don't know which of my actions is the worst," said
the lively actress.

"Ladies are exempted if they like."

"And how are you to know that one isn't lying? And if one lies
the whole point of the game is lost," said Gania.

"Oh, but think how delightful to hear how one's friends lie!
Besides you needn't be afraid, Gania; everybody knows what your
worst action is without the need of any lying on your part. Only
think, gentlemen,"--and Ferdishenko here grew quite enthusiastic,
"only think with what eyes we shall observe one another tomorrow,
after our tales have been told!"

"But surely this is a joke, Nastasia Philipovna?" asked Totski.
"You don't really mean us to play this game."

"Whoever is afraid of wolves had better not go into the wood,"
said Nastasia, smiling.

"But, pardon me, Mr. Ferdishenko, is it possible to make a game
out of this kind of thing?" persisted Totski, growing more and
more uneasy. "I assure you it can't be a success."

"And why not? Why, the last time I simply told straight off about
how I stole three roubles."

"Perhaps so; but it is hardly possible that you told it so that
it seemed like truth, or so that you were believed. And, as
Gavrila Ardalionovitch has said, the least suggestion of a
falsehood takes all point out of the game. It seems to me that
sincerity, on the other hand, is only possible if combined with a
kind of bad taste that would be utterly out of place here."

"How subtle you are, Afanasy Ivanovitch! You astonish me," cried
Ferdishenko. "You will remark, gentleman, that in saying that I
could not recount the story of my theft so as to be believed,
Afanasy Ivanovitch has very ingeniously implied that I am not
capable of thieving--(it would have been bad taste to say so
openly); and all the time he is probably firmly convinced, in his
own mind, that I am very well capable of it! But now, gentlemen,
to business! Put in your slips, ladies and gentlemen--is yours in,
Mr. Totski? So--then we are all ready; now prince, draw, please."
The prince silently put his hand into the hat, and drew the
names. Ferdishenko was first, then Ptitsin, then the general,
Totski next, his own fifth, then Gania, and so on; the ladies did
not draw.

"Oh, dear! oh, dear!" cried Ferdishenko. "I did so hope the
prince would come out first, and then the general. Well,
gentlemen, I suppose I must set a good example! What vexes me
much is that I am such an insignificant creature that it matters
nothing to anybody whether I have done bad actions or not!
Besides, which am I to choose? It's an embarras de richesse.
Shall I tell how I became a thief on one occasion only, to
convince Afanasy Ivanovitch that it is possible to steal without
being a thief?"

"Do go on, Ferdishenko, and don't make unnecessary preface, or
you'll never finish," said Nastasia Philipovna. All observed how
irritable and cross she had become since her last burst of
laughter; but none the less obstinately did she stick to her
absurd whim about this new game. Totski sat looking miserable
enough. The general lingered over his champagne, and seemed to be
thinking of some story for the time when his turn should come.

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.

XV

Katia, the maid-servant, made her appearance, terribly
frightened.

"Goodness knows what it means, ma'am," she said. "There is a
whole collection of men come--all tipsy--and want to see you. They
say that 'it's Rogojin, and she knows all about it.'"

"It's all right, Katia, let them all in at once."

"Surely not ALL, ma'am? They seem so disorderly--it's dreadful to
see them."

"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."

The guests exchanged glances; they were annoyed and bewildered by
the episode; but it was clear enough that all this had been pre-
arranged and expected by Nastasia Philipovna, and that there was
no use in trying to stop her now--for she was little short of
insane.

Besides, they were naturally inquisitive to see what was to
happen. There was nobody who would be likely to feel much alarm.
There were but two ladies present; one of whom was the lively
actress, who was not easily frightened, and the other the silent
German beauty who, it turned out, did not understand a word of
Russian, and seemed to be as stupid as she was lovely.

Her acquaintances invited her to their "At Homes" because she was
so decorative. She was exhibited to their guests like a valuable
picture, or vase, or statue, or firescreen. As for the men,
Ptitsin was one of Rogojin's friends; Ferdishenko was as much at
home as a fish in the sea, Gania, not yet recovered from his
amazement, appeared to be chained to a pillory. The old professor
did not in the least understand what was happening; but when he
noticed how extremely agitated the mistress of the house, and her
friends, seemed, he nearly wept, and trembled with fright: but he
would rather have died than leave Nastasia Philipovna at such a
crisis, for he loved her as if she were his own granddaughter.
Afanasy Ivanovitch greatly disliked having anything to do with
the affair, but he was too much interested to leave, in spite of
the mad turn things had taken; and a few words that had dropped
from the lips of Nastasia puzzled him so much, that he felt he
could not go without an explanation. He resolved therefore, to
see it out, and to adopt the attitude of silent spectator, as
most suited to his dignity. Genera Epanchin alone determined to
depart. He was annoyed at the manner in which his gift had been
returned, an though he had condescended, under the influence of
passion, to place himself on a level with Ptitsin and
Ferdishenko, his self-respect and sense of duty now returned
together with a consciousness of what was due to his social rank
and official importance. In short, he plainly showed his
conviction that a man in his position could have nothing to do
with Rogojin and his companions. But Nastasia interrupted him at
his first words.

"Ah, general!" she cried, "I was forgetting! If I had only
foreseen this unpleasantness! I won't insist on keeping you
against your will, although I should have liked you to be beside
me now. In any case, I am most grateful to you for your visit,
and flattering attention . . . but if you are afraid . . ."

"Excuse me, Nastasia Philipovna," interrupted the general, with
chivalric generosity. "To whom are you speaking? I have remained
until now simply because of my devotion to you, and as for danger,
I am only afraid that the carpets may be ruined, and the furniture
smashed! . . . You should shut the door on the lot, in my opinion.
But I confess that I am extremely curious to see how it ends."

"Rogojin!" announced Ferdishenko.

"What do you think about it?" said the general in a low voice to
Totski. "Is she mad? I mean mad in the medical sense of the word
.. . . eh?"

"I've always said she was predisposed to it," whispered Afanasy
Ivanovitch slyly. "Perhaps it is a fever!"

Since their visit to Gania's home, Rogojin's followers had been
increased by two new recruits--a dissolute old man, the hero of
some ancient scandal, and a retired sub-lieutenant. A laughable
story was told of the former. He possessed, it was said, a set of
false teeth, and one day when he wanted money for a drinking
orgy, he pawned them, and was never able to reclaim them! The
officer appeared to be a rival of the gentleman who was so proud
of his fists. He was known to none of Rogojin's followers, but as
they passed by the Nevsky, where he stood begging, he had joined
their ranks. His claim for the charity he desired seemed based on
the fact that in the days of his prosperity he had given away as
much as fifteen roubles at a time. The rivals seemed more than a
little jealous of one another. The athlete appeared injured at
the admission of the "beggar" into the company. By nature
taciturn, he now merely growled occasionally like a bear, and
glared contemptuously upon the "beggar," who, being somewhat of a
man of the world, and a diplomatist, tried to insinuate himself
into the bear's good graces. He was a much smaller man than the
athlete, and doubtless was conscious that he must tread warily.
Gently and without argument he alluded to the advantages of the
English style in boxing, and showed himself a firm believer in
Western institutions. The athlete's lips curled disdainfully, and
without honouring his adversary with a formal denial, he
exhibited, as if by accident, that peculiarly Russian object--an
enormous fist, clenched, muscular, and covered with red hairs!
The sight of this pre-eminently national attribute was enough to
convince anybody, without words, that it was a serious matter for
those who should happen to come into contact with it.

None of the band were very drunk, for the leader had kept his
intended visit to Nastasia in view all day, and had done his best
to prevent his followers from drinking too much. He was sober
himself, but the excitement of this chaotic day--the strangest day
of his life--had affected him so that he was in a dazed, wild
condition, which almost resembled drunkenness.

He had kept but one idea before him all day, and for that he had
worked in an agony of anxiety and a fever of suspense. His
lieutenants had worked so hard from five o'clock until eleven,
that they actually had collected a hundred thousand roubles for
him, but at such terrific expense, that the rate of interest was
only mentioned among them in whispers and with bated breath.

As before, Rogojin walked in advance of his troop, who followed
him with mingled self-assertion and timidity. They were specially
frightened of Nastasia Philipovna herself, for some reason.

Many of them expected to be thrown downstairs at once, without
further ceremony, the elegant arid irresistible Zaleshoff among
them. But the party led by the athlete, without openly showing
their hostile intentions, silently nursed contempt and even
hatred for Nastasia Philipovna, and marched into her house as
they would have marched into an enemy's fortress. Arrived there,
the luxury of the rooms seemed to inspire them with a kind of
respect, not unmixed with alarm. So many things were entirely new
to their experience--the choice furniture, the pictures, the
great statue of Venus. They followed their chief into the salon,
however, with a kind of impudent curiosity. There, the sight of
General Epanchin among the guests, caused many of them to beat a
hasty retreat into the adjoining room, the "boxer" and "beggar"
being among the first to go. A few only, of whom Lebedeff made
one, stood their ground; he had contrived to walk side by side
with Rogojin, for he quite understood the importance of a man who
had a fortune of a million odd roubles, and who at this moment
carried a hundred thousand in his hand. It may be added that the
whole company, not excepting Lebedeff, had the vaguest idea of
the extent of their powers, and of how far they could safely go.
At some moments Lebedeff was sure that right was on their side;
at others he tried uneasily to remember various cheering and
reassuring articles of the Civil Code.

Rogojin, when he stepped into the room, and his eyes fell upon
Nastasia, stopped short, grew white as a sheet, and stood
staring; it was clear that his heart was beating painfully. So he
stood, gazing intently, but timidly, for a few seconds. Suddenly,
as though bereft of his senses, he moved forward, staggering
helplessly, towards the table. On his way he collided against
Ptitsin's chair, and put his dirty foot on the lace skirt of the
silent lady's dress; but he neither apologized for this, nor even
noticed it.

On reaching the table, he placed upon it a strange-looking
object, which he had carried with him into the drawing-room. This
was a paper packet, some six or seven inches thick, and eight or
nine in length, wrapped in an old newspaper, and tied round three
or four times with string.

Having placed this before her, he stood with drooped arms and
head, as though awaiting his sentence.

His costume was the same as it had been in the morning, except
for a new silk handkerchief round his neck, bright green and red,
fastened with a huge diamond pin, and an enormous diamond ring on
his dirty forefinger.

Lebedeff stood two or three paces behind his chief; and the rest
of the band waited about near the door.

The two maid-servants were both peeping in, frightened and amazed
at this unusual and disorderly scene.

"What is that?" asked Nastasia Philipovna, gazing intently at
Rogojin, and indicating the paper packet.

"A hundred thousand," replied the latter, almost in a whisper.

"Oh! so he kept his word--there's a man for you! Well, sit down,
please--take that chair. I shall have something to say to you
presently. Who are all these with you? The same party? Let them
come in and sit down. There's room on that sofa, there are some
chairs and there's another sofa! Well, why don't they sit down?"

Sure enough, some of the brave fellows entirely lost their heads
at this point, and retreated into the next room. Others, however,
took the hint and sat down, as far as they could from the table,
however; feeling braver in proportion to their distance from
Nastasia.

Rogojin took the chair offered him, but he did not sit long; he
soon stood up again, and did not reseat himself. Little by little
he began to look around him and discern the other guests. Seeing
Gania, he smiled venomously and muttered to himself, "Look at that!"

He gazed at Totski and the general with no apparent confusion, and
with very little curiosity. But when he observed that the prince was
seated beside Nastasia Philipovna, he could not take his eyes off him
for a long while, and was clearly amazed. He could not account
for the prince's presence there. It was not in the least
surprising that Rogojin should be, at this time, in a more or
less delirious condition; for not to speak of the excitements of
the day, he had spent the night before in the train, and had not
slept more than a wink for forty-eight hours.

"This, gentlemen, is a hundred thousand roubles," said Nastasia
Philipovna, addressing the company in general, "here, in this
dirty parcel. This afternoon Rogojin yelled, like a madman, that
he would bring me a hundred thousand in the evening, and I have
been waiting for him all the while. He was bargaining for me, you
know; first he offered me eighteen thousand; then he rose to
forty, and then to a hundred thousand. And he has kept his word,
see! My goodness, how white he is! All this happened this
afternoon, at Gania's. I had gone to pay his mother a visit--my
future family, you know! And his sister said to my very face,
surely somebody will turn this shameless creature out. After which
she spat in her brother Gania's face--a girl of character, that!"

"Nastasia Philipovna!" began the general, reproachfully. He was
beginning to put his own interpretation on the affair.

"Well, what, general? Not quite good form, eh? Oh, nonsense! Here
have I been sitting in my box at the French theatre for the last
five years like a statue of inaccessible virtue, and kept out of
the way of all admirers, like a silly little idiot! Now, there's
this man, who comes and pays down his hundred thousand on the
table, before you all, in spite of my five years of innocence and
proud virtue, and I dare be sworn he has his sledge outside
waiting to carry me off. He values me at a hundred thousand! I see
you are still angry with me, Gania! Why, surely you never really
wished to take ME into your family? ME, Rogojin's mistress! What
did the prince say just now?"

"I never said you were Rogojin's mistress--you are NOT!" said the
prince, in trembling accents.

"Nastasia Philipovna, dear soul!" cried the actress, impatiently,
"do be calm, dear! If it annoys you so--all this--do go away and
rest! Of course you would never go with this wretched fellow, in
spite of his hundred thousand roubles! Take his money and kick
him out of the house; that's the way to treat him and the likes
of him! Upon my word, if it were my business, I'd soon clear them
all out!"

The actress was a kind-hearted woman, and highly impressionable.
She was very angry now.

"Don't be cross, Daria Alexeyevna!" laughed Nastasia. "I was not
angry when I spoke; I wasn't reproaching Gania. I don't know how
it was that I ever could have indulged the whim of entering an
honest family like his. I saw his mother--and kissed her hand,
too. I came and stirred up all that fuss, Gania, this afternoon,
on purpose to see how much you could swallow--you surprised me,
my friend--you did, indeed. Surely you could not marry a woman
who accepts pearls like those you knew the general was going to
give me, on the very eve of her marriage? And Rogojin! Why, in
your own house and before your own brother and sister, he
bargained with me! Yet you could come here and expect to be
betrothed to me before you left the house! You almost brought
your sister, too. Surely what Rogojin said about you is not
really true: that you would crawl all the way to the other end of
the town, on hands and knees, for three roubles?"

"Yes, he would!" said Rogojin, quietly, but with an air of
absolute conviction.

"H'm! and he receives a good salary, I'm told. Well, what should
you get but disgrace and misery if you took a wife you hated into
your family (for I know very well that you do hate me)? No, no! I
believe now that a man like you would murder anyone for money--
sharpen a razor and come up behind his best friend and cut his
throat like a sheep--I've read of such people. Everyone seems
money-mad nowadays. No, no! I may be shameless, but you are far
worse. I don't say a word about that other--"

"Nastasia Philipovna, is this really you? You, once so refined
and delicate of speech. Oh, what a tongue! What dreadful things
you are saying," cried the general, wringing his hands in real
grief.

"I am intoxicated, general. I am having a day out, you know--it's
my birthday! I have long looked forward to this happy occasion.
Daria Alexeyevna, you see that nosegay-man, that Monsieur aux
Camelias, sitting there laughing at us?"

"I am not laughing, Nastasia Philipovna; I am only listening with
all my attention," said Totski, with dignity.

"Well, why have I worried him, for five years, and never let him
go free? Is he worth it? He is only just what he ought to be--
nothing particular. He thinks I am to blame, too. He gave me my
education, kept me like a countess. Money--my word! What a lot of
money he spent over me! And he tried to find me an honest husband
first, and then this Gania, here. And what do you think? All
these five years I did not live with him, and yet I took his
money, and considered I was quite justified.

"You say, take the hundred thousand and kick that man out. It is
true, it is an abominable business, as you say. I might have
married long ago, not Gania--Oh, no!--but that would have been
abominable too.

"Would you believe it, I had some thoughts of marrying Totski,
four years ago! I meant mischief, I confess--but I could have had
him, I give you my word; he asked me himself. But I thought, no!
it's not worthwhile to take such advantage of him. No! I had
better go on to the streets, or accept Rogojin, or become a
washerwoman or something--for I have nothing of my own, you know.
I shall go away and leave everything behind, to the last rag--he
shall have it all back. And who would take me without anything?
Ask Gania, there, whether he would. Why, even Ferdishenko
wouldn't have me!"

"No, Ferdishenko would not; he is a candid fellow, Nastasia
Philipovna," said that worthy. "But the prince would. You sit
here making complaints, but just look at the prince. I've been
observing him for a long while."

Nastasia Philipovna looked keenly round at the prince.

"Is that true?" she asked.

"Quite true," whispered the prince.

"You'll take me as I am, with nothing?"

"I will, Nastasia Philipovna."

"Here's a pretty business!" cried the general. "However, it might
have been expected of him."

The prince continued to regard Nastasia with a sorrowful, but
intent and piercing, gaze.

"Here's another alternative for me," said Nastasia, turning
once more to the actress; "and he does it out of pure
kindness of heart. I know him. I've found a benefactor. Perhaps,
though, what they say about him may be true--that he's an--we
know what. And what shall you live on, if you are really so madly
in love with Rogojin's mistress, that you are ready to marry her
--eh?"

"I take you as a good, honest woman, Nastasia Philipovna--not as
Rogojin's mistress."

"Who? I?--good and honest?"

"Yes, you."

"Oh, you get those ideas out of novels, you know. Times are
changed now, dear prince; the world sees things as they really
are. That's all nonsense. Besides, how can you marry? You need a
nurse, not a wife."

The prince rose and began to speak in a trembling, timid tone,
but with the air of a man absolutely sure of the truth of his
words.

"I know nothing, Nastasia Philipovna. I have seen nothing. You
are right so far; but I consider that you would be honouring me,
and not I you. I am a nobody. You have suffered, you have passed
through hell and emerged pure, and that is very much. Why do you
shame yourself by desiring to go with Rogojin? You are delirious.
You have returned to Mr. Totski his seventy-five thousand
roubles, and declared that you will leave this house and all that
is in it, which is a line of conduct that not one person here
would imitate. Nastasia Philipovna, I love you! I would die for
you. I shall never let any man say one word against you, Nastasia
Philipovna! and if we are poor, I can work for both."

As the prince spoke these last words a titter was heard from
Ferdishenko; Lebedeff laughed too. The general grunted with
irritation; Ptitsin and Totski barely restrained their smiles.
The rest all sat listening, open-mouthed with wonder.

"But perhaps we shall not be poor; we may be very rich, Nastasia
Philipovna." continued the prince, in the same timid, quivering
tones. "I don't know for certain, and I'm sorry to say I haven't
had an opportunity of finding out all day; but I received a
letter from Moscow, while I was in Switzerland, from a Mr.
Salaskin, and he acquaints me with the fact that I am entitled to
a very large inheritance. This letter--"

The prince pulled a letter out of his pocket.

"Is he raving?" said the general. "Are we really in a mad-house?"

There was silence for a moment. Then Ptitsin spoke.

"I think you said, prince, that your letter was from Salaskin?
Salaskin is a very eminent man, indeed, in his own world; he is a
wonderfully clever solicitor, and if he really tells you this, I
think you may be pretty sure that he is right. It so happens,
luckily, that I know his handwriting, for I have lately had
business with him. If you would allow me to see it, I should
perhaps be able to tell you."

The prince held out the letter silently, but with a shaking hand.

"What, what?" said the general, much agitated.

"What's all this? Is he really heir to anything?"

All present concentrated their attention upon Ptitsin, reading
the prince's letter. The general curiosity had received a new
fillip. Ferdishenko could not sit still. Rogojin fixed his eyes
first on the prince, and then on Ptitsin, and then back again; he
was extremely agitated. Lebedeff could not stand it. He crept up
and read over Ptitsin's shoulder, with the air of a naughty boy
who expects a box on the ear every moment for his indiscretion.

XVI

"It's good business," said Ptitsin, at last, folding the letter
and handing it back to the prince. "You will receive, without the
slightest trouble, by the last will and testament of your aunt, a
very large sum of money indeed."

"Impossible!" cried the general, starting up as if he had been
shot.

Ptitsin explained, for the benefit of the company, that the
prince's aunt had died five months since. He had never known her,
but she was his mother's own sister, the daughter of a Moscow
merchant, one Paparchin, who had died a bankrupt. But the elder
brother of this same Paparchin, had been an eminent and very rich
merchant. A year since it had so happened that his only two sons
had both died within the same month. This sad event had so
affected the old man that he, too, had died very shortly after.
He was a widower, and had no relations left, excepting the
prince's aunt, a poor woman living on charity, who was herself
at the point of death from dropsy; but who had
time, before she died, to set Salaskin to work to find her
nephew, and to make her will bequeathing her newly-acquired
fortune to him.

It appeared that neither the prince, nor the doctor with whom he
lived in Switzerland, had thought of waiting for further
communications; but the prince had started straight away with
Salaskin's letter in his pocket.

"One thing I may tell you, for certain," concluded Ptitsin,
addressing the prince, "that there is no question about the
authenticity of this matter. Anything that Salaskin writes you as
regards your unquestionable right to this inheritance, you may
look upon as so much money in your pocket. I congratulate you,
prince; you may receive a million and a half of roubles, perhaps
more; I don't know. All I DO know is that Paparchin was a very
rich merchant indeed."

"Hurrah!" cried Lebedeff, in a drunken voice. "Hurrah for the
last of the Muishkins!"

"My goodness me! and I gave him twenty-five roubles this morning
as though he were a beggar," blurted out the general, half
senseless with amazement. "Well, I congratulate you, I
congratulate you!" And the general rose from his seat and
solemnly embraced the prince. All came forward with
congratulations; even those of Rogojin's party who had retreated
into the next room, now crept softly back to look on. For the
moment even Nastasia Philipovna was forgotten.

But gradually the consciousness crept back into the minds of each
one present that the prince had just made her an offer of
marriage. The situation had, therefore, become three times as
fantastic as before.

Totski sat and shrugged his shoulders, bewildered. He was the
only guest left sitting at this time; the others had thronged
round the table in disorder, and were all talking at once.

It was generally agreed, afterwards, in recalling that evening,
that from this moment Nastasia Philipovna seemed entirely to lose
her senses. She continued to sit still in her place, looking
around at her guests with a strange, bewildered expression, as
though she were trying to collect her thoughts, and could not.
Then she suddenly turned to the prince, and glared at him with
frowning brows; but this only lasted one moment. Perhaps it
suddenly struck her that all this was a jest, but his face seemed
to reassure her. She reflected, and smiled again, vaguely.

"So I am really a princess," she whispered to herself,
ironically, and glancing accidentally at Daria Alexeyevna's face,
she burst out laughing.

"Ha, ha, ha!" she cried, "this is an unexpected climax, after
all. I didn't expect this. What are you all standing up for,
gentlemen? Sit down; congratulate me and the prince! Ferdishenko,
just step out and order some more champagne, will you? Katia,
Pasha," she added suddenly, seeing the servants at the door,
"come here! I'm going to be married, did you hear? To the prince.
He has a million and a half of roubles; he is Prince Muishkin,
and has asked me to marry him. Here, prince, come and sit by me;
and here comes the wine. Now then, ladies and gentlemen, where
are your congratulations?"

"Hurrah!" cried a number of voices. A rush was made for the wine
by Rogojin's followers, though, even among them, there seemed
some sort of realization that the situation had changed. Rogojin
stood and looked on, with an incredulous smile, screwing up one
side of his mouth.

"Prince, my dear fellow, do remember what you are about," said
the general, approaching Muishkin, and pulling him by the coat
sleeve.

Nastasia Philipovna overheard the remark, and burst out laughing.

"No, no, general!" she cried. "You had better look out! I am the
princess now, you know. The prince won't let you insult me.
Afanasy Ivanovitch, why don't you congratulate me? I shall be
able to sit at table with your new wife, now. Aha! you see what I
gain by marrying a prince! A million and a half, and a prince,
and an idiot into the bargain, they say. What better could I wish
for? Life is only just about to commence for me in earnest.
Rogojin, you are a little too late. Away with your paper parcel!
I'm going to marry the prince; I'm richer than you are now."

But Rogojin understood how things were tending, at last. An
inexpressibly painful expression came over his face. He wrung his
hands; a groan made its way up from the depths of his soul.

"Surrender her, for God's sake!" he said to the prince.

All around burst out laughing.

"What? Surrender her to YOU?" cried Daria Alexeyevna. "To a
fellow who comes and bargains for a wife like a moujik! The
prince wishes to marry her, and you--"

"So do I, so do I! This moment, if I could! I'd give every
farthing I have to do it."

"You drunken moujik," said Daria Alexeyevna, once more. "You
ought to be kicked out of the place."

The laughter became louder than ever.

"Do you hear, prince?" said Nastasia Philipovna. "Do you hear how
this moujik of a fellow goes on bargaining for your bride?"

"He is drunk," said the prince, quietly, "and he loves you very
much."

"Won't you be ashamed, afterwards, to reflect that your wife very
nearly ran away with Rogojin?"

"Oh, you were raving, you were in a fever; you are still half
delirious."

"And won't you be ashamed when they tell you, afterwards, that
your wife lived at Totski's expense so many years?"

"No; I shall not be ashamed of that. You did not so live by your
own will."

"And you'll never reproach me with it?"

"Never."

"Take care, don't commit yourself for a whole lifetime."

"Nastasia Philipovna." said the prince, quietly, and with deep
emotion, "I said before that I shall esteem your consent to be my
wife as a great honour to myself, and shall consider that it is
you who will honour me, not I you, by our marriage. You laughed
at these words, and others around us laughed as well; I heard
them. Very likely I expressed myself funnily, and I may have
looked funny, but, for all that, I believe I understand where
honour lies, and what I said was but the literal truth. You were
about to ruin yourself just now, irrevocably; you would never
have forgiven yourself for so doing afterwards; and yet, you are
absolutely blameless. It is impossible that your life should be
altogether ruined at your age. What matter that Rogojin came
bargaining here, and that Gavrila Ardalionovitch would have
deceived you if he could? Why do you continually remind us of
these facts? I assure you once more that very few could find it
in them to act as you have acted this day. As for your wish to go
with Rogojin, that was simply the idea of a delirious and
suffering brain. You are still quite feverish; you ought to be in
bed, not here. You know quite well that if you had gone with
Rogojin, you would have become a washer-woman next day, rather
than stay with him. You are proud, Nastasia Philipovna, and
perhaps you have really suffered so much that you imagine
yourself to be a desperately guilty woman. You require a great
deal of petting and looking after, Nastasia Philipovna, and I
will do this. I saw your portrait this morning, and it seemed
quite a familiar face to me; it seemed to me that the portrait-
face was calling to me for help. I-I shall respect you all my
life, Nastasia Philipovna," concluded the prince, as though
suddenly recollecting himself, and blushing to think of the sort
of company before whom he had said all this.

Ptitsin bowed his head and looked at the ground, overcome by a
mixture of feelings. Totski muttered to himself: "He may be an
idiot, but he knows that flattery is the best road to success
here."

The prince observed Gania's eyes flashing at him, as though they
would gladly annihilate him then and there.

"That's a kind-hearted man, if you like," said Daria Alexeyevna,
whose wrath was quickly evaporating.

"A refined man, but--lost," murmured the general.

Totski took his hat and rose to go. He and the general exchanged
glances, making a private arrangement, thereby, to leave the
house together.

"Thank you, prince; no one has ever spoken to me like that
before," began Nastasia Philipovna. "Men have always bargained
for me, before this; and not a single respectable man has ever
proposed to marry me. Do you hear, Afanasy Ivanovitch? What do
YOU think of what the prince has just been saying? It was almost
immodest, wasn't it? You, Rogojin, wait a moment, don't go yet! I
see you don't intend to move however. Perhaps I may go with you
yet. Where did you mean to take me to?"

"To Ekaterinhof," replied Lebedeff. Rogojin simply stood staring,
with trembling lips, not daring to believe his ears. He was
stunned, as though from a blow on the head.

"What are you thinking of, my dear Nastasia?" said Daria
Alexeyevna in alarm. "What are you saying?" "You are not going
mad, are you?"

Nastasia Philipovna burst out laughing and jumped up from the
sofa.

"You thought I should accept this good child's invitation to ruin
him, did you?" she cried. "That's Totski's way, not mine. He's
fond of children. Come along, Rogojin, get your money ready! We
won't talk about marrying just at this moment, but let's see the
money at all events. Come! I may not marry you, either. I don't
know. I suppose you thought you'd keep the money, if I did! Ha,
ha, ha! nonsense! I have no sense of shame left. I tell you I
have been Totski's concubine. Prince, you must marry Aglaya
Ivanovna, not Nastasia Philipovna, or this fellow Ferdishenko
will always be pointing the finger of scorn at you. You aren't
afraid, I know; but I should always be afraid that I had ruined
you, and that you would reproach me for it. As for what you say
about my doing you honour by marrying you-well, Totski can tell
you all about that. You had your eye on Aglaya, Gania, you know
you had; and you might have married her if you had not come
bargaining. You are all like this. You should choose, once for
all, between disreputable women, and respectable ones, or you are
sure to get mixed. Look at the general, how he's staring at me!"

"This is too horrible," said the general, starting to his feet.
All were standing up now. Nastasia was absolutely beside herself.

"I am very proud, in spite of what I am," she continued. "You
called me 'perfection' just now, prince. A nice sort of
perfection to throw up a prince and a million and a half of
roubles in order to be able to boast of the fact afterwards! What
sort of a wife should I make for you, after all I have said?
Afanasy Ivanovitch, do you observe I have really and truly thrown
away a million of roubles? And you thought that I should consider
your wretched seventy-five thousand, with Gania thrown in for a
husband, a paradise of bliss! Take your seventy-five thousand
back, sir; you did not reach the hundred thousand. Rogojin cut a
better dash than you did. I'll console Gania myself; I have an
idea about that. But now I must be off! I've been in prison for
ten years. I'm free at last! Well, Rogojin, what are you waiting
for? Let's get ready and go."

"Come along!" shouted Rogojin, beside himself with joy. "Hey! all
of you fellows! Wine! Round with it! Fill the glasses!"

"Get away!" he shouted frantically, observing that Daria
Alexeyevna was approaching to protest against Nastasia's conduct.
"Get away, she's mine, everything's mine! She's a queen, get
away!"

He was panting with ecstasy. He walked round and round Nastasia
Philipovna and told everybody to "keep their distance."

All the Rogojin company were now collected in the drawing-room;
some were drinking, some laughed and talked: all were in the
highest and wildest spirits. Ferdishenko was doing his best to
unite himself to them; the general and Totski again made an
attempt to go. Gania, too stood hat in hand ready to go; but
seemed to be unable to tear his eyes away from the scene before
him

"Get out, keep your distance!" shouted Rogojin.

"What are you shouting about there!" cried Nastasia "I'm not
yours yet. I may kick you out for all you know I haven't taken
your money yet; there it all is on the table Here, give me over
that packet! Is there a hundred thousand roubles in that one
packet? Pfu! what abominable stuff it looks! Oh! nonsense, Daria
Alexeyevna; you surely did not expect me to ruin HIM?"
(indicating the prince). "Fancy him nursing me! Why, he needs a
nurse himself! The general, there, will be his nurse now, you'll
see. Here, prince, look here! Your bride is accepting money. What
a disreputable woman she must be! And you wished to marry her!
What are you crying about? Is it a bitter dose? Never mind, you
shall laugh yet. Trust to time." (In spite of these words there
were two large tears rolling down Nastasia's own cheeks.) "It's
far better to think twice of it now than afterwards. Oh! you
mustn't cry like that! There's Katia crying, too. What is it,
Katia, dear? I shall leave you and Pasha a lot of things, I've
laid them out for you already; but good-bye, now. I made an
honest girl like you serve a low woman like myself. It's better
so, prince, it is indeed. You'd begin to despise me afterwards--
we should never be happy. Oh! you needn't swear, prince, I shan't
believe you, you know. How foolish it would be, too! No, no; we'd
better say good-bye and part friends. I am a bit of a dreamer
myself, and I used to dream of you once. Very often during those
five years down at his estate I used to dream and think, and I
always imagined just such a good, honest, foolish fellow as you,
one who should come and say to me: 'You are an innocent woman,
Nastasia Philipovna, and I adore you.' I dreamt of you often. I
used to think so much down there that I nearly went mad; and then
this fellow here would come down. He would stay a couple of
months out of the twelve, and disgrace and insult and deprave me,
and then go; so that I longed to drown myself in the pond a
thousand times over; but I did not dare do it. I hadn't the
heart, and now--well, are you ready, Rogojin?"

"Ready--keep your distance, all of you!"

"We're all ready," said several of his friends. "The troikas
[Sledges drawn by three horses abreast.] are at the door, bells
and all."

Nastasia Philipovna seized the packet of bank-notes.

"Gania, I have an idea. I wish to recompense you--why should you
lose all? Rogojin, would he crawl for three roubles as far as the
Vassiliostrof?

"Oh, wouldn't he just!"

"Well, look here, Gania. I wish to look into your heart once
more, for the last time. You've worried me for the last three
months--now it's my turn. Do you see this packet? It contains a
hundred thousand roubles. Now, I'm going to throw it into the
fire, here--before all these witnesses. As soon as the fire
catches hold of it, you put your hands into the fire and pick it
out--without gloves, you know. You must have bare hands, and you
must turn your sleeves up. Pull it out, I say, and it's all
yours. You may burn your fingers a little, of course; but then
it's a hundred thousand roubles, remember--it won't take you long
to lay hold of it and snatch it out. I shall so much admire you
if you put your hands into the fire for my money. All here
present may be witnesses that the whole packet of money is yours
if you get it out. If you don't get it out, it shall burn. I will
let no one else come; away--get away, all of you--it's my money!
Rogojin has bought me with it. Is it my money, Rogojin?"

"Yes, my queen; it's your own money, my joy."

"Get away then, all of you. I shall do as I like with my own--
don't meddle! Ferdishenko, make up the fire, quick!"

"Nastasia Philipovna, I can't; my hands won't obey me," said
Ferdishenko, astounded and helpless with bewilderment.

"Nonsense," cried Nastasia Philipovna, seizing the poker and
raking a couple of logs together. No sooner did a tongue of flame
burst out than she threw the packet of notes upon it.

Everyone gasped; some even crossed themselves.

"She's mad--she's mad!" was the cry.

"Oughtn't-oughtn't we to secure her?" asked the general of
Ptitsin, in a whisper; "or shall we send for the authorities?
Why, she's mad, isn't she--isn't she, eh?"

"N-no, I hardly think she is actually mad," whispered Ptitsin,
who was as white as his handkerchief, and trembling like a leaf.
He could not take his eyes off the smouldering packet.

"She's mad surely, isn't she?" the general appealed to Totski.

"I told you she wasn't an ordinary woman," replied the latter,
who was as pale as anyone.

"Oh, but, positively, you know--a hundred thousand roubles!"

"Goodness gracious! good heavens!" came from all quarters of the
room.

All now crowded round the fire and thronged to see what was going
on; everyone lamented and gave vent to exclamations of horror and
woe. Some jumped up on chairs in order to get a better view.
Daria Alexeyevna ran into the next room and whispered excitedly
to Katia and Pasha. The beautiful German disappeared altogether.

"My lady! my sovereign!" lamented Lebedeff, falling on his knees
before Nastasia Philipovna, and stretching out his hands towards
the fire; "it's a hundred thousand roubles, it is indeed, I
packed it up myself, I saw the money! My queen, let me get into
the fire after it--say the word-I'll put my whole grey head into
the fire for it! I have a poor lame wife and thirteen children.
My father died of starvation last week. Nastasia Philipovna,
Nastasia Philipovna!" The wretched little man wept, and groaned,
and crawled towards the fire.

"Away, out of the way!" cried Nastasia. "Make room, all of you!
Gania, what are you standing there for? Don't stand on ceremony.
Put in your hand! There's your whole happiness smouldering away,
look! Quick!"

But Gania had borne too much that day, and especially this
evening, and he was not prepared for this last, quite unexpected
trial.

The crowd parted on each side of him and he was left face to face
with Nastasia Philipovna, three paces from her. She stood by the
fire and waited, with her intent gaze fixed upon him.

Gania stood before her, in his evening clothes, holding his white
gloves and hat in his hand, speechless and motionless, with arms
folded and eyes fixed on the fire.

A silly, meaningless smile played on his white, death-like lips.
He could not take his eyes off the smouldering packet; but it
appeared that something new had come to birth in his soul--as
though he were vowing to himself that he would bear this trial.
He did not move from his place. In a few seconds it became
evident to all that he did not intend to rescue the money.

"Hey! look at it, it'll burn in another minute or two!" cried
Nastasia Philipovna. "You'll hang yourself afterwards, you know,
if it does! I'm not joking."

The fire, choked between a couple of smouldering pieces of wood,
had died down for the first few moments after the packet was
thrown upon it. But a little tongue of fire now began to lick the
paper from below, and soon, gathering courage, mounted the sides
of the parcel, and crept around it. In another moment, the whole
of it burst into flames, and the exclamations of woe and horror
were redoubled.

"Nastasia Philipovna!" lamented Lebedeff again, straining towards
the fireplace; but Rogojin dragged him away, and pushed him to
the rear once more.

The whole of Regojin's being was concentrated in one rapturous
gaze of ecstasy. He could not take his eyes off Nastasia. He
stood drinking her in, as it were. He was in the seventh heaven
of delight.

"Oh, what a queen she is!" he ejaculated, every other minute,
throwing out the remark for anyone who liked to catch it. "That's
the sort of woman for me! Which of you would think of doing a
thing like that, you blackguards, eh?" he yelled. He was
hopelessly and wildly beside himself with ecstasy.

The prince watched the whole scene, silent and dejected.

"I'll pull it out with my teeth for one thousand," said
Ferdishenko.

"So would I," said another, from behind, "with pleasure. Devil
take the thing!" he added, in a tempest of despair, "it will all
be burnt up in a minute--It's burning, it's burning!"

"It's burning, it's burning!" cried all, thronging nearer and
nearer to the fire in their excitement.

"Gania, don't be a fool! I tell you for the last time."

"Get on, quick!" shrieked Ferdishenko, rushing wildly up to
Gania, and trying to drag him to the fire by the sleeve of his
coat. "Get it, you dummy, it's burning away fast! Oh--DAMN the
thing!"

Gania hurled Ferdishenko from him; then he turned sharp round and
made for the door. But he had not gone a couple of steps when he
tottered and fell to the ground.

"He's fainted!" the cry went round.

"And the money's burning still," Lebedeff lamented.

"Burning for nothing," shouted others.

"Katia-Pasha! Bring him some water!" cried Nastasia Philipovna.
Then she took the tongs and fished out the packet.

Nearly the whole of the outer covering was burned away, but it
was soon evident that the contents were hardly touched. The
packet had been wrapped in a threefold covering of newspaper, and
the, notes were safe. All breathed more freely.

"Some dirty little thousand or so may be touched," said Lebedeff,
immensely relieved, "but there's very little harm done, after
all."

"It's all his--the whole packet is for him, do you hear--all of
you?" cried Nastasia Philipovna, placing the packet by the side
of Gania.  "He restrained himself, and didn't go after it; so his
self-respect is greater than his thirst for money. All right--
he'll come to directly--he must have the packet or he'll cut his
throat afterwards. There! He's coming to himself. General,
Totski, all of you, did you hear me? The money is all Gania's. I
give it to him, fully conscious of my action, as recompense for--
well, for anything he thinks best. Tell him so. Let it lie here
beside him. Off we go, Rogojin! Goodbye, prince. I have seen a
man for the first time in my life. Goodbye, Afanasy Ivanovitch--
and thanks!"

The Rogojin gang followed their leader and Nastasia Philipovna to
the entrance-hall, laughing and shouting and whistling.

In the hall the servants were waiting, and handed her her fur
cloak. Martha, the cook, ran in from the kitchen. Nastasia kissed
them all round.

"Are you really throwing us all over, little mother? Where, where
are you going to? And on your birthday, too!" cried the four
girls, crying over her and kissing her hands.

"I am going out into the world, Katia; perhaps I shall be a
laundress. I don't know. No more of Afanasy Ivanovitch, anyhow.
Give him my respects. Don't think badly of me, girls."

The prince hurried down to the front gate where the party were
settling into the troikas, all the bells tinkling a merry
accompaniment the while. The general caught him up on the stairs:

"Prince, prince!" he cried, seizing hold of his arm, "recollect
yourself! Drop her, prince! You see what sort of a woman she is.
I am speaking to you like a father."

The prince glanced at him, but said nothing. He shook himself
free, and rushed on downstairs.

The general was just in time to see the prince take the first
sledge he could get, and, giving the order to Ekaterinhof, start
off in pursuit of the troikas. Then the general's fine grey horse
dragged that worthy home, with some new thoughts, and some new
hopes and calculations developing in his brain, and with the
pearls in his pocket, for he had not forgotten to bring them
along with him, being a man of business. Amid his new thoughts
and ideas there came, once or twice, the image of Nastasia
Philipovna. The general sighed.

"I'm sorry, really sorry," he muttered. "She's a ruined woman.
Mad! mad! However, the prince is not for Nastasia Philipovna
now,--perhaps it's as well."

Two more of Nastasia's guests, who walked a short distance
together, indulged in high moral sentiments of a similar nature.

"Do you know, Totski, this is all very like what they say goes on
among the Japanese?" said Ptitsin. "The offended party there,
they say, marches off to his insulter and says to him, 'You
insulted me, so I have come to rip myself open before your eyes;'
and with these words he does actually rip his stomach open before
his enemy, and considers, doubtless, that he is having all
possible and necessary satisfaction and revenge. There are
strange characters in the world, sir!"

"H'm! and you think there was something of this sort here, do
you? Dear me--a very remarkable comparison, you know! But you
must have observed, my dear Ptitsin, that I did all I possibly
could. I could do no more than I did. And you must admit that
there are some rare qualities in this woman. I felt I could not
speak in that Bedlam, or I should have been tempted to cry out,
when she reproached me, that she herself was my best
justification. Such a woman could make anyone forget all reason--
everything! Even that moujik, Rogojin, you saw, brought her a
hundred thousand roubles! Of course, all that happened tonight
was ephemeral, fantastic, unseemly--yet it lacked neither colour
nor originality. My God! What might not have been made of such a
character combined with such beauty! Yet in spite of all efforts
--in spite of all education, even--all those gifts are wasted! She
is an uncut diamond.... I have often said so."

And Afanasy Ivanovitch heaved a deep sigh.

 PART I




CHAPTER I

On an exceptionally hot evening early in July a young man came out of the garret in which he lodged in S. Place and walked slowly, as though in hesitation, towards K. bridge.

He had successfully avoided meeting his landlady on the staircase. His garret was under the roof of a high, five-storied house and was more like a cupboard than a room. The landlady who provided him with garret, dinners, and attendance, lived on the floor below, and every time he went out he was obliged to pass her kitchen, the door of which invariably stood open. And each time he passed, the young man had a sick, frightened feeling, which made him scowl and feel ashamed. He was hopelessly in debt to his landlady, and was afraid of meeting her.

This was not because he was cowardly and abject, quite the contrary; but for some time past he had been in an overstrained irritable condition, verging on hypochondria. He had become so completely absorbed in himself, and isolated from his fellows that he dreaded meeting, not only his landlady, but anyone at all. He was crushed by poverty, but the anxieties of his position had of late ceased to weigh upon him. He had given up attending to matters of practical importance; he had lost all desire to do so. Nothing that any landlady could do had a real terror for him. But to be stopped on the stairs, to be forced to listen to her trivial, irrelevant gossip, to pestering demands for payment, threats and complaints, and to rack his brains for excuses, to prevaricate, to lie—no, rather than that, he would creep down the stairs like a cat and slip out unseen.

This evening, however, on coming out into the street, he became acutely aware of his fears.

"I want to attempt a thing like that and am frightened by these trifles," he thought, with an odd smile. "Hm... yes, all is in a man's hands and he lets it all slip from cowardice, that's an axiom. It would be interesting to know what it is men are most afraid of. Taking a new step, uttering a new word is what they fear most.... But I am talking too much. It's because I chatter that I do nothing. Or perhaps it is that I chatter because I do nothing. I've learned to chatter this last month, lying for days together in my den thinking... of Jack the Giant-killer. Why am I going there now? Am I capable of that? Is that serious? It is not serious at all. It's simply a fantasy to amuse myself; a plaything! Yes, maybe it is a plaything."

The heat in the street was terrible: and the airlessness, the bustle and the plaster, scaffolding, bricks, and dust all about him, and that special Petersburg stench, so familiar to all who are unable to get out of town in summer—all worked painfully upon the young man's already overwrought nerves. The insufferable stench from the pot-houses, which are particularly numerous in that part of the town, and the drunken men whom he met continually, although it was a working day, completed the revolting misery of the picture. An expression of the profoundest disgust gleamed for a moment in the young man's refined face. He was, by the way, exceptionally handsome, above the average in height, slim, well-built, with beautiful dark eyes and dark brown hair. Soon he sank into deep thought, or more accurately speaking into a complete blankness of mind; he walked along not observing what was about him and not caring to observe it. From time to time, he would mutter something, from the habit of talking to himself, to which he had just confessed. At these moments he would become conscious that his ideas were sometimes in a tangle and that he was very weak; for two days he had scarcely tasted food.

He was so badly dressed that even a man accustomed to shabbiness would have been ashamed to be seen in the street in such rags. In that quarter of the town, however, scarcely any shortcoming in dress would have created surprise. Owing to the proximity of the Hay Market, the number of establishments of bad character, the preponderance of the trading and working class population crowded in these streets and alleys in the heart of Petersburg, types so various were to be seen in the streets that no figure, however queer, would have caused surprise. But there was such accumulated bitterness and contempt in the young man's heart, that, in spite of all the fastidiousness of youth, he minded his rags least of all in the street. It was a different matter when he met with acquaintances or with former fellow students, whom, indeed, he disliked meeting at any time. And yet when a drunken man who, for some unknown reason, was being taken somewhere in a huge waggon dragged by a heavy dray horse, suddenly shouted at him as he drove past: "Hey there, German hatter" bawling at the top of his voice and pointing at him—the young man stopped suddenly and clutched tremulously at his hat. It was a tall round hat from Zimmerman's, but completely worn out, rusty with age, all torn and bespattered, brimless and bent on one side in a most unseemly fashion. Not shame, however, but quite another feeling akin to terror had overtaken him.

"I knew it," he muttered in confusion, "I thought so! That's the worst of all! Why, a stupid thing like this, the most trivial detail might spoil the whole plan. Yes, my hat is too noticeable.... It looks absurd and that makes it noticeable.... With my rags I ought to wear a cap, any sort of old pancake, but not this grotesque thing. Nobody wears such a hat, it would be noticed a mile off, it would be remembered.... What matters is that people would remember it, and that would give them a clue. For this business one should be as little conspicuous as possible.... Trifles, trifles are what matter! Why, it's just such trifles that always ruin everything...."

He had not far to go; he knew indeed how many steps it was from the gate of his lodging house: exactly seven hundred and thirty. He had counted them once when he had been lost in dreams. At the time he had put no faith in those dreams and was only tantalising himself by their hideous but daring recklessness. Now, a month later, he had begun to look upon them differently, and, in spite of the monologues in which he jeered at his own impotence and indecision, he had involuntarily come to regard this "hideous" dream as an exploit to be attempted, although he still did not realise this himself. He was positively going now for a "rehearsal" of his project, and at every step his excitement grew more and more violent.

With a sinking heart and a nervous tremor, he went up to a huge house which on one side looked on to the canal, and on the other into the street. This house was let out in tiny tenements and was inhabited by working people of all kinds—tailors, locksmiths, cooks, Germans of sorts, girls picking up a living as best they could, petty clerks, etc. There was a continual coming and going through the two gates and in the two courtyards of the house. Three or four door-keepers were employed on the building. The young man was very glad to meet none of them, and at once slipped unnoticed through the door on the right, and up the staircase. It was a back staircase, dark and narrow, but he was familiar with it already, and knew his way, and he liked all these surroundings: in such darkness even the most inquisitive eyes were not to be dreaded.

"If I am so scared now, what would it be if it somehow came to pass that I were really going to do it?" he could not help asking himself as he reached the fourth storey. There his progress was barred by some porters who were engaged in moving furniture out of a flat. He knew that the flat had been occupied by a German clerk in the civil service, and his family. This German was moving out then, and so the fourth floor on this staircase would be untenanted except by the old woman. "That's a good thing anyway," he thought to himself, as he rang the bell of the old woman's flat. The bell gave a faint tinkle as though it were made of tin and not of copper. The little flats in such houses always have bells that ring like that. He had forgotten the note of that bell, and now its peculiar tinkle seemed to remind him of something and to bring it clearly before him.... He started, his nerves were terribly overstrained by now. In a little while, the door was opened a tiny crack: the old woman eyed her visitor with evident distrust through the crack, and nothing could be seen but her little eyes, glittering in the darkness. But, seeing a number of people on the landing, she grew bolder, and opened the door wide. The young man stepped into the dark entry, which was partitioned off from the tiny kitchen. The old woman stood facing him in silence and looking inquiringly at him. She was a diminutive, withered up old woman of sixty, with sharp malignant eyes and a sharp little nose. Her colourless, somewhat grizzled hair was thickly smeared with oil, and she wore no kerchief over it. Round her thin long neck, which looked like a hen's leg, was knotted some sort of flannel rag, and, in spite of the heat, there hung flapping on her shoulders, a mangy fur cape, yellow with age. The old woman coughed and groaned at every instant. The young man must have looked at her with a rather peculiar expression, for a gleam of mistrust came into her eyes again.

"Raskolnikov, a student, I came here a month ago," the young man made haste to mutter, with a half bow, remembering that he ought to be more polite.

"I remember, my good sir, I remember quite well your coming here," the old woman said distinctly, still keeping her inquiring eyes on his face.

"And here... I am again on the same errand," Raskolnikov continued, a little disconcerted and surprised at the old woman's mistrust. "Perhaps she is always like that though, only I did not notice it the other time," he thought with an uneasy feeling.

The old woman paused, as though hesitating; then stepped on one side, and pointing to the door of the room, she said, letting her visitor pass in front of her:

"Step in, my good sir."

The little room into which the young man walked, with yellow paper on the walls, geraniums and muslin curtains in the windows, was brightly lighted up at that moment by the setting sun.

"So the sun will shine like this then too!" flashed as it were by chance through Raskolnikov's mind, and with a rapid glance he scanned everything in the room, trying as far as possible to notice and remember its arrangement. But there was nothing special in the room. The furniture, all very old and of yellow wood, consisted of a sofa with a huge bent wooden back, an oval table in front of the sofa, a dressing-table with a looking-glass fixed on it between the windows, chairs along the walls and two or three half-penny prints in yellow frames, representing German damsels with birds in their hands—that was all. In the corner a light was burning before a small ikon. Everything was very clean; the floor and the furniture were brightly polished; everything shone.

"Lizaveta's work," thought the young man. There was not a speck of dust to be seen in the whole flat.

"It's in the houses of spiteful old widows that one finds such cleanliness," Raskolnikov thought again, and he stole a curious glance at the cotton curtain over the door leading into another tiny room, in which stood the old woman's bed and chest of drawers and into which he had never looked before. These two rooms made up the whole flat.

"What do you want?" the old woman said severely, coming into the room and, as before, standing in front of him so as to look him straight in the face.

"I've brought something to pawn here," and he drew out of his pocket an old-fashioned flat silver watch, on the back of which was engraved a globe; the chain was of steel.

"But the time is up for your last pledge. The month was up the day before yesterday."

"I will bring you the interest for another month; wait a little."

"But that's for me to do as I please, my good sir, to wait or to sell your pledge at once."

"How much will you give me for the watch, Alyona Ivanovna?"

"You come with such trifles, my good sir, it's scarcely worth anything. I gave you two roubles last time for your ring and one could buy it quite new at a jeweler's for a rouble and a half."

"Give me four roubles for it, I shall redeem it, it was my father's. I shall be getting some money soon."

"A rouble and a half, and interest in advance, if you like!"

"A rouble and a half!" cried the young man.

"Please yourself"—and the old woman handed him back the watch. The young man took it, and was so angry that he was on the point of going away; but checked himself at once, remembering that there was nowhere else he could go, and that he had had another object also in coming.

"Hand it over," he said roughly.

The old woman fumbled in her pocket for her keys, and disappeared behind the curtain into the other room. The young man, left standing alone in the middle of the room, listened inquisitively, thinking. He could hear her unlocking the chest of drawers.

"It must be the top drawer," he reflected. "So she carries the keys in a pocket on the right. All in one bunch on a steel ring.... And there's one key there, three times as big as all the others, with deep notches; that can't be the key of the chest of drawers... then there must be some other chest or strong-box... that's worth knowing. Strong-boxes always have keys like that... but how degrading it all is."

The old woman came back.

"Here, sir: as we say ten copecks the rouble a month, so I must take fifteen copecks from a rouble and a half for the month in advance. But for the two roubles I lent you before, you owe me now twenty copecks on the same reckoning in advance. That makes thirty-five copecks altogether. So I must give you a rouble and fifteen copecks for the watch. Here it is."

"What! only a rouble and fifteen copecks now!"

"Just so."

The young man did not dispute it and took the money. He looked at the old woman, and was in no hurry to get away, as though there was still something he wanted to say or to do, but he did not himself quite know what.

"I may be bringing you something else in a day or two, Alyona Ivanovna—a valuable thing—silver—a cigarette-box, as soon as I get it back from a friend..." he broke off in confusion.

"Well, we will talk about it then, sir."

"Good-bye—are you always at home alone, your sister is not here with you?" He asked her as casually as possible as he went out into the passage.

"What business is she of yours, my good sir?"

"Oh, nothing particular, I simply asked. You are too quick.... Good-day, Alyona Ivanovna."

Raskolnikov went out in complete confusion. This confusion became more and more intense. As he went down the stairs, he even stopped short, two or three times, as though suddenly struck by some thought. When he was in the street he cried out, "Oh, God, how loathsome it all is! and can I, can I possibly.... No, it's nonsense, it's rubbish!" he added resolutely. "And how could such an atrocious thing come into my head? What filthy things my heart is capable of. Yes, filthy above all, disgusting, loathsome, loathsome!—and for a whole month I've been...." But no words, no exclamations, could express his agitation. The feeling of intense repulsion, which had begun to oppress and torture his heart while he was on his way to the old woman, had by now reached such a pitch and had taken such a definite form that he did not know what to do with himself to escape from his wretchedness. He walked along the pavement like a drunken man, regardless of the passers-by, and jostling against them, and only came to his senses when he was in the next street. Looking round, he noticed that he was standing close to a tavern which was entered by steps leading from the pavement to the basement. At that instant two drunken men came out at the door, and abusing and supporting one another, they mounted the steps. Without stopping to think, Raskolnikov went down the steps at once. Till that moment he had never been into a tavern, but now he felt giddy and was tormented by a burning thirst. He longed for a drink of cold beer, and attributed his sudden weakness to the want of food. He sat down at a sticky little table in a dark and dirty corner; ordered some beer, and eagerly drank off the first glassful. At once he felt easier; and his thoughts became clear.

"All that's nonsense," he said hopefully, "and there is nothing in it all to worry about! It's simply physical derangement. Just a glass of beer, a piece of dry bread—and in one moment the brain is stronger, the mind is clearer and the will is firm! Phew, how utterly petty it all is!"

But in spite of this scornful reflection, he was by now looking cheerful as though he were suddenly set free from a terrible burden: and he gazed round in a friendly way at the people in the room. But even at that moment he had a dim foreboding that this happier frame of mind was also not normal.

There were few people at the time in the tavern. Besides the two drunken men he had met on the steps, a group consisting of about five men and a girl with a concertina had gone out at the same time. Their departure left the room quiet and rather empty. The persons still in the tavern were a man who appeared to be an artisan, drunk, but not extremely so, sitting before a pot of beer, and his companion, a huge, stout man with a grey beard, in a short full-skirted coat. He was very drunk: and had dropped asleep on the bench; every now and then, he began as though in his sleep, cracking his fingers, with his arms wide apart and the upper part of his body bounding about on the bench, while he hummed some meaningless refrain, trying to recall some such lines as these:

"His wife a year he fondly loved His wife a—a year he—fondly loved."

Or suddenly waking up again:

"Walking along the crowded row He met the one he used to know."

But no one shared his enjoyment: his silent companion looked with positive hostility and mistrust at all these manifestations. There was another man in the room who looked somewhat like a retired government clerk. He was sitting apart, now and then sipping from his pot and looking round at the company. He, too, appeared to be in some agitation.

 CHAPTER II

Raskolnikov was not used to crowds, and, as we said before, he avoided society of every sort, more especially of late. But now all at once he felt a desire to be with other people. Something new seemed to be taking place within him, and with it he felt a sort of thirst for company. He was so weary after a whole month of concentrated wretchedness and gloomy excitement that he longed to rest, if only for a moment, in some other world, whatever it might be; and, in spite of the filthiness of the surroundings, he was glad now to stay in the tavern.

The master of the establishment was in another room, but he frequently came down some steps into the main room, his jaunty, tarred boots with red turn-over tops coming into view each time before the rest of his person. He wore a full coat and a horribly greasy black satin waistcoat, with no cravat, and his whole face seemed smeared with oil like an iron lock. At the counter stood a boy of about fourteen, and there was another boy somewhat younger who handed whatever was wanted. On the counter lay some sliced cucumber, some pieces of dried black bread, and some fish, chopped up small, all smelling very bad. It was insufferably close, and so heavy with the fumes of spirits that five minutes in such an atmosphere might well make a man drunk.

There are chance meetings with strangers that interest us from the first moment, before a word is spoken. Such was the impression made on Raskolnikov by the person sitting a little distance from him, who looked like a retired clerk. The young man often recalled this impression afterwards, and even ascribed it to presentiment. He looked repeatedly at the clerk, partly no doubt because the latter was staring persistently at him, obviously anxious to enter into conversation. At the other persons in the room, including the tavern-keeper, the clerk looked as though he were used to their company, and weary of it, showing a shade of condescending contempt for them as persons of station and culture inferior to his own, with whom it would be useless for him to converse. He was a man over fifty, bald and grizzled, of medium height, and stoutly built. His face, bloated from continual drinking, was of a yellow, even greenish, tinge, with swollen eyelids out of which keen reddish eyes gleamed like little chinks. But there was something very strange in him; there was a light in his eyes as though of intense feeling—perhaps there were even thought and intelligence, but at the same time there was a gleam of something like madness. He was wearing an old and hopelessly ragged black dress coat, with all its buttons missing except one, and that one he had buttoned, evidently clinging to this last trace of respectability. A crumpled shirt front, covered with spots and stains, protruded from his canvas waistcoat. Like a clerk, he wore no beard, nor moustache, but had been so long unshaven that his chin looked like a stiff greyish brush. And there was something respectable and like an official about his manner too. But he was restless; he ruffled up his hair and from time to time let his head drop into his hands dejectedly resting his ragged elbows on the stained and sticky table. At last he looked straight at Raskolnikov, and said loudly and resolutely:

"May I venture, honoured sir, to engage you in polite conversation? Forasmuch as, though your exterior would not command respect, my experience admonishes me that you are a man of education and not accustomed to drinking. I have always respected education when in conjunction with genuine sentiments, and I am besides a titular counsellor in rank. Marmeladov—such is my name; titular counsellor. I make bold to inquire—have you been in the service?"

"No, I am studying," answered the young man, somewhat surprised at the grandiloquent style of the speaker and also at being so directly addressed. In spite of the momentary desire he had just been feeling for company of any sort, on being actually spoken to he felt immediately his habitual irritable and uneasy aversion for any stranger who approached or attempted to approach him.

"A student then, or formerly a student," cried the clerk. "Just what I thought! I'm a man of experience, immense experience, sir," and he tapped his forehead with his fingers in self-approval. "You've been a student or have attended some learned institution!... But allow me...." He got up, staggered, took up his jug and glass, and sat down beside the young man, facing him a little sideways. He was drunk, but spoke fluently and boldly, only occasionally losing the thread of his sentences and drawling his words. He pounced upon Raskolnikov as greedily as though he too had not spoken to a soul for a month.

"Honoured sir," he began almost with solemnity, "poverty is not a vice, that's a true saying. Yet I know too that drunkenness is not a virtue, and that that's even truer. But beggary, honoured sir, beggary is a vice. In poverty you may still retain your innate nobility of soul, but in beggary—never—no one. For beggary a man is not chased out of human society with a stick, he is swept out with a broom, so as to make it as humiliating as possible; and quite right, too, forasmuch as in beggary I am ready to be the first to humiliate myself. Hence the pot-house! Honoured sir, a month ago Mr. Lebeziatnikov gave my wife a beating, and my wife is a very different matter from me! Do you understand? Allow me to ask you another question out of simple curiosity: have you ever spent a night on a hay barge, on the Neva?"

"No, I have not happened to," answered Raskolnikov. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I've just come from one and it's the fifth night I've slept so...." He filled his glass, emptied it and paused. Bits of hay were in fact clinging to his clothes and sticking to his hair. It seemed quite probable that he had not undressed or washed for the last five days. His hands, particularly, were filthy. They were fat and red, with black nails.

His conversation seemed to excite a general though languid interest. The boys at the counter fell to sniggering. The innkeeper came down from the upper room, apparently on purpose to listen to the "funny fellow" and sat down at a little distance, yawning lazily, but with dignity. Evidently Marmeladov was a familiar figure here, and he had most likely acquired his weakness for high-flown speeches from the habit of frequently entering into conversation with strangers of all sorts in the tavern. This habit develops into a necessity in some drunkards, and especially in those who are looked after sharply and kept in order at home. Hence in the company of other drinkers they try to justify themselves and even if possible obtain consideration.

"Funny fellow!" pronounced the innkeeper. "And why don't you work, why aren't you at your duty, if you are in the service?"

"Why am I not at my duty, honoured sir," Marmeladov went on, addressing himself exclusively to Raskolnikov, as though it had been he who put that question to him. "Why am I not at my duty? Does not my heart ache to think what a useless worm I am? A month ago when Mr. Lebeziatnikov beat my wife with his own hands, and I lay drunk, didn't I suffer? Excuse me, young man, has it ever happened to you... hm... well, to petition hopelessly for a loan?"

"Yes, it has. But what do you mean by hopelessly?"

"Hopelessly in the fullest sense, when you know beforehand that you will get nothing by it. You know, for instance, beforehand with positive certainty that this man, this most reputable and exemplary citizen, will on no consideration give you money; and indeed I ask you why should he? For he knows of course that I shan't pay it back. From compassion? But Mr. Lebeziatnikov who keeps up with modern ideas explained the other day that compassion is forbidden nowadays by science itself, and that that's what is done now in England, where there is political economy. Why, I ask you, should he give it to me? And yet though I know beforehand that he won't, I set off to him and..."

"Why do you go?" put in Raskolnikov.

"Well, when one has no one, nowhere else one can go! For every man must have somewhere to go. Since there are times when one absolutely must go somewhere! When my own daughter first went out with a yellow ticket, then I had to go... (for my daughter has a yellow passport)," he added in parenthesis, looking with a certain uneasiness at the young man. "No matter, sir, no matter!" he went on hurriedly and with apparent composure when both the boys at the counter guffawed and even the innkeeper smiled—"No matter, I am not confounded by the wagging of their heads; for everyone knows everything about it already, and all that is secret is made open. And I accept it all, not with contempt, but with humility. So be it! So be it! 'Behold the man!' Excuse me, young man, can you.... No, to put it more strongly and more distinctly; not can you but dare you, looking upon me, assert that I am not a pig?"

The young man did not answer a word.

"Well," the orator began again stolidly and with even increased dignity, after waiting for the laughter in the room to subside. "Well, so be it, I am a pig, but she is a lady! I have the semblance of a beast, but Katerina Ivanovna, my spouse, is a person of education and an officer's daughter. Granted, granted, I am a scoundrel, but she is a woman of a noble heart, full of sentiments, refined by education. And yet... oh, if only she felt for me! Honoured sir, honoured sir, you know every man ought to have at least one place where people feel for him! But Katerina Ivanovna, though she is magnanimous, she is unjust.... And yet, although I realise that when she pulls my hair she only does it out of pity—for I repeat without being ashamed, she pulls my hair, young man," he declared with redoubled dignity, hearing the sniggering again—"but, my God, if she would but once.... But no, no! It's all in vain and it's no use talking! No use talking! For more than once, my wish did come true and more than once she has felt for me but... such is my fate and I am a beast by nature!"

"Rather!" assented the innkeeper yawning. Marmeladov struck his fist resolutely on the table.

"Such is my fate! Do you know, sir, do you know, I have sold her very stockings for drink? Not her shoes—that would be more or less in the order of things, but her stockings, her stockings I have sold for drink! Her mohair shawl I sold for drink, a present to her long ago, her own property, not mine; and we live in a cold room and she caught cold this winter and has begun coughing and spitting blood too. We have three little children and Katerina Ivanovna is at work from morning till night; she is scrubbing and cleaning and washing the children, for she's been used to cleanliness from a child. But her chest is weak and she has a tendency to consumption and I feel it! Do you suppose I don't feel it? And the more I drink the more I feel it. That's why I drink too. I try to find sympathy and feeling in drink.... I drink so that I may suffer twice as much!" And as though in despair he laid his head down on the table.

"Young man," he went on, raising his head again, "in your face I seem to read some trouble of mind. When you came in I read it, and that was why I addressed you at once. For in unfolding to you the story of my life, I do not wish to make myself a laughing-stock before these idle listeners, who indeed know all about it already, but I am looking for a man of feeling and education. Know then that my wife was educated in a high-class school for the daughters of noblemen, and on leaving she danced the shawl dance before the governor and other personages for which she was presented with a gold medal and a certificate of merit. The medal... well, the medal of course was sold—long ago, hm... but the certificate of merit is in her trunk still and not long ago she showed it to our landlady. And although she is most continually on bad terms with the landlady, yet she wanted to tell someone or other of her past honours and of the happy days that are gone. I don't condemn her for it, I don't blame her, for the one thing left her is recollection of the past, and all the rest is dust and ashes. Yes, yes, she is a lady of spirit, proud and determined. She scrubs the floors herself and has nothing but black bread to eat, but won't allow herself to be treated with disrespect. That's why she would not overlook Mr. Lebeziatnikov's rudeness to her, and so when he gave her a beating for it, she took to her bed more from the hurt to her feelings than from the blows. She was a widow when I married her, with three children, one smaller than the other. She married her first husband, an infantry officer, for love, and ran away with him from her father's house. She was exceedingly fond of her husband; but he gave way to cards, got into trouble and with that he died. He used to beat her at the end: and although she paid him back, of which I have authentic documentary evidence, to this day she speaks of him with tears and she throws him up to me; and I am glad, I am glad that, though only in imagination, she should think of herself as having once been happy.... And she was left at his death with three children in a wild and remote district where I happened to be at the time; and she was left in such hopeless poverty that, although I have seen many ups and downs of all sort, I don't feel equal to describing it even. Her relations had all thrown her off. And she was proud, too, excessively proud.... And then, honoured sir, and then, I, being at the time a widower, with a daughter of fourteen left me by my first wife, offered her my hand, for I could not bear the sight of such suffering. You can judge the extremity of her calamities, that she, a woman of education and culture and distinguished family, should have consented to be my wife. But she did! Weeping and sobbing and wringing her hands, she married me! For she had nowhere to turn! Do you understand, sir, do you understand what it means when you have absolutely nowhere to turn? No, that you don't understand yet.... And for a whole year, I performed my duties conscientiously and faithfully, and did not touch this" (he tapped the jug with his finger), "for I have feelings. But even so, I could not please her; and then I lost my place too, and that through no fault of mine but through changes in the office; and then I did touch it!... It will be a year and a half ago soon since we found ourselves at last after many wanderings and numerous calamities in this magnificent capital, adorned with innumerable monuments. Here I obtained a situation.... I obtained it and I lost it again. Do you understand? This time it was through my own fault I lost it: for my weakness had come out.... We have now part of a room at Amalia Fyodorovna Lippevechsel's; and what we live upon and what we pay our rent with, I could not say. There are a lot of people living there besides ourselves. Dirt and disorder, a perfect Bedlam... hm... yes... And meanwhile my daughter by my first wife has grown up; and what my daughter has had to put up with from her step-mother whilst she was growing up, I won't speak of. For, though Katerina Ivanovna is full of generous feelings, she is a spirited lady, irritable and short—tempered.... Yes. But it's no use going over that! Sonia, as you may well fancy, has had no education. I did make an effort four years ago to give her a course of geography and universal history, but as I was not very well up in those subjects myself and we had no suitable books, and what books we had... hm, anyway we have not even those now, so all our instruction came to an end. We stopped at Cyrus of Persia. Since she has attained years of maturity, she has read other books of romantic tendency and of late she had read with great interest a book she got through Mr. Lebeziatnikov, Lewes' Physiology—do you know it?—and even recounted extracts from it to us: and that's the whole of her education. And now may I venture to address you, honoured sir, on my own account with a private question. Do you suppose that a respectable poor girl can earn much by honest work? Not fifteen farthings a day can she earn, if she is respectable and has no special talent and that without putting her work down for an instant! And what's more, Ivan Ivanitch Klopstock the civil counsellor—have you heard of him?—has not to this day paid her for the half-dozen linen shirts she made him and drove her roughly away, stamping and reviling her, on the pretext that the shirt collars were not made like the pattern and were put in askew. And there are the little ones hungry.... And Katerina Ivanovna walking up and down and wringing her hands, her cheeks flushed red, as they always are in that disease: 'Here you live with us,' says she, 'you eat and drink and are kept warm and you do nothing to help.' And much she gets to eat and drink when there is not a crust for the little ones for three days! I was lying at the time... well, what of it! I was lying drunk and I heard my Sonia speaking (she is a gentle creature with a soft little voice... fair hair and such a pale, thin little face). She said: 'Katerina Ivanovna, am I really to do a thing like that?' And Darya Frantsovna, a woman of evil character and very well known to the police, had two or three times tried to get at her through the landlady. 'And why not?' said Katerina Ivanovna with a jeer, 'you are something mighty precious to be so careful of!' But don't blame her, don't blame her, honoured sir, don't blame her! She was not herself when she spoke, but driven to distraction by her illness and the crying of the hungry children; and it was said more to wound her than anything else.... For that's Katerina Ivanovna's character, and when children cry, even from hunger, she falls to beating them at once. At six o'clock I saw Sonia get up, put on her kerchief and her cape, and go out of the room and about nine o'clock she came back. She walked straight up to Katerina Ivanovna and she laid thirty roubles on the table before her in silence. She did not utter a word, she did not even look at her, she simply picked up our big green drap de dames shawl (we have a shawl, made of drap de dames), put it over her head and face and lay down on the bed with her face to the wall; only her little shoulders and her body kept shuddering.... And I went on lying there, just as before.... And then I saw, young man, I saw Katerina Ivanovna, in the same silence go up to Sonia's little bed; she was on her knees all the evening kissing Sonia's feet, and would not get up, and then they both fell asleep in each other's arms... together, together... yes... and I... lay drunk."

Marmeladov stopped short, as though his voice had failed him. Then he hurriedly filled his glass, drank, and cleared his throat.

"Since then, sir," he went on after a brief pause—"Since then, owing to an unfortunate occurrence and through information given by evil-intentioned persons—in all which Darya Frantsovna took a leading part on the pretext that she had been treated with want of respect—since then my daughter Sofya Semyonovna has been forced to take a yellow ticket, and owing to that she is unable to go on living with us. For our landlady, Amalia Fyodorovna would not hear of it (though she had backed up Darya Frantsovna before) and Mr. Lebeziatnikov too... hm.... All the trouble between him and Katerina Ivanovna was on Sonia's account. At first he was for making up to Sonia himself and then all of a sudden he stood on his dignity: 'how,' said he, 'can a highly educated man like me live in the same rooms with a girl like that?' And Katerina Ivanovna would not let it pass, she stood up for her... and so that's how it happened. And Sonia comes to us now, mostly after dark; she comforts Katerina Ivanovna and gives her all she can.... She has a room at the Kapernaumovs' the tailors, she lodges with them; Kapernaumov is a lame man with a cleft palate and all of his numerous family have cleft palates too. And his wife, too, has a cleft palate. They all live in one room, but Sonia has her own, partitioned off.... Hm... yes... very poor people and all with cleft palates... yes. Then I got up in the morning, and put on my rags, lifted up my hands to heaven and set off to his excellency Ivan Afanasyvitch. His excellency Ivan Afanasyvitch, do you know him? No? Well, then, it's a man of God you don't know. He is wax... wax before the face of the Lord; even as wax melteth!... His eyes were dim when he heard my story. 'Marmeladov, once already you have deceived my expectations... I'll take you once more on my own responsibility'—that's what he said, 'remember,' he said, 'and now you can go.' I kissed the dust at his feet—in thought only, for in reality he would not have allowed me to do it, being a statesman and a man of modern political and enlightened ideas. I returned home, and when I announced that I'd been taken back into the service and should receive a salary, heavens, what a to-do there was!..."

Marmeladov stopped again in violent excitement. At that moment a whole party of revellers already drunk came in from the street, and the sounds of a hired concertina and the cracked piping voice of a child of seven singing "The Hamlet" were heard in the entry. The room was filled with noise. The tavern-keeper and the boys were busy with the new-comers. Marmeladov paying no attention to the new arrivals continued his story. He appeared by now to be extremely weak, but as he became more and more drunk, he became more and more talkative. The recollection of his recent success in getting the situation seemed to revive him, and was positively reflected in a sort of radiance on his face. Raskolnikov listened attentively.

"That was five weeks ago, sir. Yes.... As soon as Katerina Ivanovna and Sonia heard of it, mercy on us, it was as though I stepped into the kingdom of Heaven. It used to be: you can lie like a beast, nothing but abuse. Now they were walking on tiptoe, hushing the children. 'Semyon Zaharovitch is tired with his work at the office, he is resting, shh!' They made me coffee before I went to work and boiled cream for me! They began to get real cream for me, do you hear that? And how they managed to get together the money for a decent outfit—eleven roubles, fifty copecks, I can't guess. Boots, cotton shirt-fronts—most magnificent, a uniform, they got up all in splendid style, for eleven roubles and a half. The first morning I came back from the office I found Katerina Ivanovna had cooked two courses for dinner—soup and salt meat with horse radish—which we had never dreamed of till then. She had not any dresses... none at all, but she got herself up as though she were going on a visit; and not that she'd anything to do it with, she smartened herself up with nothing at all, she'd done her hair nicely, put on a clean collar of some sort, cuffs, and there she was, quite a different person, she was younger and better looking. Sonia, my little darling, had only helped with money 'for the time,' she said, 'it won't do for me to come and see you too often. After dark maybe when no one can see.' Do you hear, do you hear? I lay down for a nap after dinner and what do you think: though Katerina Ivanovna had quarrelled to the last degree with our landlady Amalia Fyodorovna only a week before, she could not resist then asking her in to coffee. For two hours they were sitting, whispering together. 'Semyon Zaharovitch is in the service again, now, and receiving a salary,' says she, 'and he went himself to his excellency and his excellency himself came out to him, made all the others wait and led Semyon Zaharovitch by the hand before everybody into his study.' Do you hear, do you hear? 'To be sure,' says he, 'Semyon Zaharovitch, remembering your past services,' says he, 'and in spite of your propensity to that foolish weakness, since you promise now and since moreover we've got on badly without you,' (do you hear, do you hear;) 'and so,' says he, 'I rely now on your word as a gentleman.' And all that, let me tell you, she has simply made up for herself, and not simply out of wantonness, for the sake of bragging; no, she believes it all herself, she amuses herself with her own fancies, upon my word she does! And I don't blame her for it, no, I don't blame her!... Six days ago when I brought her my first earnings in full—twenty-three roubles forty copecks altogether—she called me her poppet: 'poppet,' said she, 'my little poppet.' And when we were by ourselves, you understand? You would not think me a beauty, you would not think much of me as a husband, would you?... Well, she pinched my cheek, 'my little poppet,' said she."

Marmeladov broke off, tried to smile, but suddenly his chin began to twitch. He controlled himself however. The tavern, the degraded appearance of the man, the five nights in the hay barge, and the pot of spirits, and yet this poignant love for his wife and children bewildered his listener. Raskolnikov listened intently but with a sick sensation. He felt vexed that he had come here.

"Honoured sir, honoured sir," cried Marmeladov recovering himself—"Oh, sir, perhaps all this seems a laughing matter to you, as it does to others, and perhaps I am only worrying you with the stupidity of all the trivial details of my home life, but it is not a laughing matter to me. For I can feel it all.... And the whole of that heavenly day of my life and the whole of that evening I passed in fleeting dreams of how I would arrange it all, and how I would dress all the children, and how I should give her rest, and how I should rescue my own daughter from dishonour and restore her to the bosom of her family.... And a great deal more.... Quite excusable, sir. Well, then, sir" (Marmeladov suddenly gave a sort of start, raised his head and gazed intently at his listener) "well, on the very next day after all those dreams, that is to say, exactly five days ago, in the evening, by a cunning trick, like a thief in the night, I stole from Katerina Ivanovna the key of her box, took out what was left of my earnings, how much it was I have forgotten, and now look at me, all of you! It's the fifth day since I left home, and they are looking for me there and it's the end of my employment, and my uniform is lying in a tavern on the Egyptian bridge. I exchanged it for the garments I have on... and it's the end of everything!"

Marmeladov struck his forehead with his fist, clenched his teeth, closed his eyes and leaned heavily with his elbow on the table. But a minute later his face suddenly changed and with a certain assumed slyness and affectation of bravado, he glanced at Raskolnikov, laughed and said:

"This morning I went to see Sonia, I went to ask her for a pick-me-up! He-he-he!"

"You don't say she gave it to you?" cried one of the new-comers; he shouted the words and went off into a guffaw.

"This very quart was bought with her money," Marmeladov declared, addressing himself exclusively to Raskolnikov. "Thirty copecks she gave me with her own hands, her last, all she had, as I saw.... She said nothing, she only looked at me without a word.... Not on earth, but up yonder... they grieve over men, they weep, but they don't blame them, they don't blame them! But it hurts more, it hurts more when they don't blame! Thirty copecks yes! And maybe she needs them now, eh? What do you think, my dear sir? For now she's got to keep up her appearance. It costs money, that smartness, that special smartness, you know? Do you understand? And there's pomatum, too, you see, she must have things; petticoats, starched ones, shoes, too, real jaunty ones to show off her foot when she has to step over a puddle. Do you understand, sir, do you understand what all that smartness means? And here I, her own father, here I took thirty copecks of that money for a drink! And I am drinking it! And I have already drunk it! Come, who will have pity on a man like me, eh? Are you sorry for me, sir, or not? Tell me, sir, are you sorry or not? He-he-he!"

He would have filled his glass, but there was no drink left. The pot was empty.

"What are you to be pitied for?" shouted the tavern-keeper who was again near them.

Shouts of laughter and even oaths followed. The laughter and the oaths came from those who were listening and also from those who had heard nothing but were simply looking at the figure of the discharged government clerk.

"To be pitied! Why am I to be pitied?" Marmeladov suddenly declaimed, standing up with his arm outstretched, as though he had been only waiting for that question.

"Why am I to be pitied, you say? Yes! there's nothing to pity me for! I ought to be crucified, crucified on a cross, not pitied! Crucify me, oh judge, crucify me but pity me! And then I will go of myself to be crucified, for it's not merry-making I seek but tears and tribulation!... Do you suppose, you that sell, that this pint of yours has been sweet to me? It was tribulation I sought at the bottom of it, tears and tribulation, and have found it, and I have tasted it; but He will pity us Who has had pity on all men, Who has understood all men and all things, He is the One, He too is the judge. He will come in that day and He will ask: 'Where is the daughter who gave herself for her cross, consumptive step-mother and for the little children of another? Where is the daughter who had pity upon the filthy drunkard, her earthly father, undismayed by his beastliness?' And He will say, 'Come to me! I have already forgiven thee once.... I have forgiven thee once.... Thy sins which are many are forgiven thee for thou hast loved much....' And he will forgive my Sonia, He will forgive, I know it... I felt it in my heart when I was with her just now! And He will judge and will forgive all, the good and the evil, the wise and the meek.... And when He has done with all of them, then He will summon us. 'You too come forth,' He will say, 'Come forth ye drunkards, come forth, ye weak ones, come forth, ye children of shame!' And we shall all come forth, without shame and shall stand before him. And He will say unto us, 'Ye are swine, made in the Image of the Beast and with his mark; but come ye also!' And the wise ones and those of understanding will say, 'Oh Lord, why dost Thou receive these men?' And He will say, 'This is why I receive them, oh ye wise, this is why I receive them, oh ye of understanding, that not one of them believed himself to be worthy of this.' And He will hold out His hands to us and we shall fall down before him... and we shall weep... and we shall understand all things! Then we shall understand all!... and all will understand, Katerina Ivanovna even... she will understand.... Lord, Thy kingdom come!" And he sank down on the bench exhausted, and helpless, looking at no one, apparently oblivious of his surroundings and plunged in deep thought. His words had created a certain impression; there was a moment of silence; but soon laughter and oaths were heard again.

"That's his notion!"

"Talked himself silly!"

"A fine clerk he is!"

And so on, and so on.

"Let us go, sir," said Marmeladov all at once, raising his head and addressing Raskolnikov—"come along with me... Kozel's house, looking into the yard. I'm going to Katerina Ivanovna—time I did."

Raskolnikov had for some time been wanting to go and he had meant to help him. Marmeladov was much unsteadier on his legs than in his speech and leaned heavily on the young man. They had two or three hundred paces to go. The drunken man was more and more overcome by dismay and confusion as they drew nearer the house.

"It's not Katerina Ivanovna I am afraid of now," he muttered in agitation—"and that she will begin pulling my hair. What does my hair matter! Bother my hair! That's what I say! Indeed it will be better if she does begin pulling it, that's not what I am afraid of... it's her eyes I am afraid of... yes, her eyes... the red on her cheeks, too, frightens me... and her breathing too.... Have you noticed how people in that disease breathe... when they are excited? I am frightened of the children's crying, too.... For if Sonia has not taken them food... I don't know what's happened! I don't know! But blows I am not afraid of.... Know, sir, that such blows are not a pain to me, but even an enjoyment. In fact I can't get on without it.... It's better so. Let her strike me, it relieves her heart... it's better so... There is the house. The house of Kozel, the cabinet-maker... a German, well-to-do. Lead the way!"

They went in from the yard and up to the fourth storey. The staircase got darker and darker as they went up. It was nearly eleven o'clock and although in summer in Petersburg there is no real night, yet it was quite dark at the top of the stairs.

A grimy little door at the very top of the stairs stood ajar. A very poor-looking room about ten paces long was lighted up by a candle-end; the whole of it was visible from the entrance. It was all in disorder, littered up with rags of all sorts, especially children's garments. Across the furthest corner was stretched a ragged sheet. Behind it probably was the bed. There was nothing in the room except two chairs and a sofa covered with American leather, full of holes, before which stood an old deal kitchen-table, unpainted and uncovered. At the edge of the table stood a smoldering tallow-candle in an iron candlestick. It appeared that the family had a room to themselves, not part of a room, but their room was practically a passage. The door leading to the other rooms, or rather cupboards, into which Amalia Lippevechsel's flat was divided stood half open, and there was shouting, uproar and laughter within. People seemed to be playing cards and drinking tea there. Words of the most unceremonious kind flew out from time to time.

Raskolnikov recognised Katerina Ivanovna at once. She was a rather tall, slim and graceful woman, terribly emaciated, with magnificent dark brown hair and with a hectic flush in her cheeks. She was pacing up and down in her little room, pressing her hands against her chest; her lips were parched and her breathing came in nervous broken gasps. Her eyes glittered as in fever and looked about with a harsh immovable stare. And that consumptive and excited face with the last flickering light of the candle-end playing upon it made a sickening impression. She seemed to Raskolnikov about thirty years old and was certainly a strange wife for Marmeladov.... She had not heard them and did not notice them coming in. She seemed to be lost in thought, hearing and seeing nothing. The room was close, but she had not opened the window; a stench rose from the staircase, but the door on to the stairs was not closed. From the inner rooms clouds of tobacco smoke floated in, she kept coughing, but did not close the door. The youngest child, a girl of six, was asleep, sitting curled up on the floor with her head on the sofa. A boy a year older stood crying and shaking in the corner, probably he had just had a beating. Beside him stood a girl of nine years old, tall and thin, wearing a thin and ragged chemise with an ancient cashmere pelisse flung over her bare shoulders, long outgrown and barely reaching her knees. Her arm, as thin as a stick, was round her brother's neck. She was trying to comfort him, whispering something to him, and doing all she could to keep him from whimpering again. At the same time her large dark eyes, which looked larger still from the thinness of her frightened face, were watching her mother with alarm. Marmeladov did not enter the door, but dropped on his knees in the very doorway, pushing Raskolnikov in front of him. The woman seeing a stranger stopped indifferently facing him, coming to herself for a moment and apparently wondering what he had come for. But evidently she decided that he was going into the next room, as he had to pass through hers to get there. Taking no further notice of him, she walked towards the outer door to close it and uttered a sudden scream on seeing her husband on his knees in the doorway.

"Ah!" she cried out in a frenzy, "he has come back! The criminal! the monster!... And where is the money? What's in your pocket, show me! And your clothes are all different! Where are your clothes? Where is the money! Speak!"

And she fell to searching him. Marmeladov submissively and obediently held up both arms to facilitate the search. Not a farthing was there.

"Where is the money?" she cried—"Mercy on us, can he have drunk it all? There were twelve silver roubles left in the chest!" and in a fury she seized him by the hair and dragged him into the room. Marmeladov seconded her efforts by meekly crawling along on his knees.

"And this is a consolation to me! This does not hurt me, but is a positive con-so-la-tion, ho-nou-red sir," he called out, shaken to and fro by his hair and even once striking the ground with his forehead. The child asleep on the floor woke up, and began to cry. The boy in the corner losing all control began trembling and screaming and rushed to his sister in violent terror, almost in a fit. The eldest girl was shaking like a leaf.

"He's drunk it! he's drunk it all," the poor woman screamed in despair—"and his clothes are gone! And they are hungry, hungry!"—and wringing her hands she pointed to the children. "Oh, accursed life! And you, are you not ashamed?"—she pounced all at once upon Raskolnikov—"from the tavern! Have you been drinking with him? You have been drinking with him, too! Go away!"

The young man was hastening away without uttering a word. The inner door was thrown wide open and inquisitive faces were peering in at it. Coarse laughing faces with pipes and cigarettes and heads wearing caps thrust themselves in at the doorway. Further in could be seen figures in dressing gowns flung open, in costumes of unseemly scantiness, some of them with cards in their hands. They were particularly diverted, when Marmeladov, dragged about by his hair, shouted that it was a consolation to him. They even began to come into the room; at last a sinister shrill outcry was heard: this came from Amalia Lippevechsel herself pushing her way amongst them and trying to restore order after her own fashion and for the hundredth time to frighten the poor woman by ordering her with coarse abuse to clear out of the room next day. As he went out, Raskolnikov had time to put his hand into his pocket, to snatch up the coppers he had received in exchange for his rouble in the tavern and to lay them unnoticed on the window. Afterwards on the stairs, he changed his mind and would have gone back.

"What a stupid thing I've done," he thought to himself, "they have Sonia and I want it myself." But reflecting that it would be impossible to take it back now and that in any case he would not have taken it, he dismissed it with a wave of his hand and went back to his lodging. "Sonia wants pomatum too," he said as he walked along the street, and he laughed malignantly—"such smartness costs money.... Hm! And maybe Sonia herself will be bankrupt to-day, for there is always a risk, hunting big game... digging for gold... then they would all be without a crust to-morrow except for my money. Hurrah for Sonia! What a mine they've dug there! And they're making the most of it! Yes, they are making the most of it! They've wept over it and grown used to it. Man grows used to everything, the scoundrel!"

He sank into thought.

"And what if I am wrong," he cried suddenly after a moment's thought. "What if man is not really a scoundrel, man in general, I mean, the whole race of mankind—then all the rest is prejudice, simply artificial terrors and there are no barriers and it's all as it should be."