‘Impossible!’ exclaimed the general, as though firing a shot.
Their mouths all fell open again.
Ptitsyn explained, addressing himself primarily to Ivan Fyodorovich, that five months earlier the death had occurred of the prince’s aunt, whom he had never known personally, his mother’s eldest sister, the daughter of a Moscow merchant of the Third Guild, Papushin by name, who had died in poverty and bankruptcy. But this Papushin’s elder brother, who had also died recently, was a well-known and rich merchant. About a year earlier his only two sons had died, almost within a month of each other. This had been such a shock to the old man that, not long after, he himself fell ill and died. He was a widower, there were no heirs at all apart from the prince’s aunt, his niece, a very poor woman who lived with relatives. At the time she received the inheritance this aunt was almost dying of dropsy, but she had at once begun to seek out the prince, entrusting this to Salazkin, and managed to make a will. It appeared that neither the prince nor the doctor, in whose home he lived in Switzerland, had been willing to wait for official notification or to make inquiries, and the prince, with Salazkin’s letter in his pocket, decided to set off on his own ...
‘There is one thing I can tell you,’ concluded Ptitsyn, turning to the prince, ‘and that is that all this cannot be anything but correct and beyond dispute, and everything that Salazkin writes to you about the indisputability and legality of your case you may take as ready money in your pocket. I congratulate you, Prince! Perhaps you will also get a million and a half, and possibly more. Papushin was a very rich merchant.’
‘Hurrah for the last Prince Myshkin of his line!’ whooped Ferdyshchenko.
‘Hurrah!’ Lebedev wheezed in a drunken little voice.
‘And I lent him twenty-five roubles earlier, the poor fellow, ha-ha-ha! A phantasmagoria, it truly is!’ almost stunned with amazement, the general said. ‘Well, congratulations, congratulations!’ And, rising from his seat, he went over to the prince to embrace him. Others also began to get up, following his example, and also sidled over to the prince. Even those who had retreated behind the door curtain began to appear in the drawing room. There was a vague ripple of talk, there were exclamations, there were even demands for champagne; everyone began to jostle and bustle. For a moment they seemed to have forgotten Nastasya Filippovna, and that she was still the hostess of her own soiree. But little by little, almost at the same ti
me, it dawned on them that the prince had just proposed to her. This made it all seem three times as mad and extraordinary as before. The profoundly amazed Totsky shrugged his shoulders; he was almost the only one still seated, all the rest of the crowd were thronging round the table in disorder. They all maintained afterwards that it was from that moment that Nastasya Filippovna went mad. She continued to sit in her chair and for some time surveyed them all with a strange, astonished look, as though she did not understand and were trying to work something out. Then, suddenly, she turned to the prince and, with a menacing frown, scrutinized him intently; but this was only for a moment; perhaps it suddenly seemed to her that it was all a joke, a piece of mockery; but the prince’s look at once broke the illusion. She began to reflect, then smiled again, as though not clearly aware that she was doing so ...
‘This means I really am a princess!’ she whispered, as if mocking herself, and, as she happened to glance at Darya Alexeyvna, began to laugh. ‘An unexpected dénouement ... I ... didn’t expect this ... But gentlemen, why are you standing, please sit down and congratulate me and the prince! I think someone asked for champagne? Ferdyshchenko, go and tell them to bring some. Katya, Pasha,’ — she suddenly caught sight of her maids in the doorway — ‘come here, I’m going to be married, do you hear? To the prince, he has a million and a half, he’s Prince Myshkin, and he’s marrying me!’
‘And may God bless you, my dear, it’s not before time! Don’t let the opportunity slip!’ cried Darya Alexeyevna, deeply moved by what had taken place.
‘Now, you sit beside me, Prince,’ Nastasya Filippovna went on. ‘That’s right, and here comes the wine. Congratulate us, gentlemen!’
‘Hurrah!’ cried a large number of voices. Many people began to crowd round the wine, including nearly all the Rogozhinites. But although they were shouting and eager to shout, many, in spite of all the strangeness of the circumstances and the surroundings, sensed that the scene was changing. Others were disconcerted, and waiting with mistrust. But many whispered to one another that after all it was a perfectly ordinary occurrence, that princes married all sorts of women, even gypsy girls from encampments. As for Rogozhin, he stood and stared, contorting his features into a rigid smile of bewilderment.
‘Prince, old fellow, think what you’re doing!’ the general whispered in horror, approaching from the side and tugging the prince by the sleeve.
Nastasya Filippovna observed this, and began to laugh out loud.
‘No, General! I’m a princess now, do you hear — the prince won’t allow me to be insulted! Afanasy Ivanovich, you congratulate me, too; now I shall sit next to your wife everywhere; what do you think, does it pay to have a husband like that? A million and a half, and a prince, too, and, they say, an idiot into the bargain, what more could one want? Real li
fe is only beginning! You’re too late, Rogozhin! Take your parcel of money away, I’m marrying the prince and am richer than you!’
But Rogozhin had grasped what was happening. Inexpressible suffering left its imprint on his face. He clasped his hands, as a groan burst from his chest.
‘Give her up!’ he shouted to the prince.
There was laughter all around.
‘Is it you he’s to give her up for?’ Darya Alexeyevna chimed in, triumphantly. ‘We all saw the way you dumped your money on the table, muzhik! The prince is going to take her in marriage, but you’ve just come to make a nuisance of yourself!’
‘I’ll marry her, too! I’ll marry her now, this very minute! I’ll give anything.’
‘Look at you, a drunkard from a tavern, you ought to be shown the door!’ Darya Alexeyevna repeated in indignation.
The laughter grew louder.
‘Listen, Prince,’ Nastasya Filippovna addressed him, ‘there’s the muzhik bargaining for your bride.’
‘He’s drunk,’ said the prince. ‘He loves you very much.’
‘But won’t you feel ashamed later on that your bride nearly went away with Rogozhin?’
‘You were in a fever, and you’re still in a fever, you are almost delirious.’
‘And you won’t feel ashamed when they tell you later on that your wife was kept by Totsky?’
‘No, I won’t ... You were with Totsky against your will.’
‘And you’ll never reproach me?’
‘I won’t reproach you.’
‘Well, be careful you don’t swear your whole life on it!’
‘Nastasya Filippovna,’ the prince said quietly, and as if with compassion, ‘I told you earlier that I would take your consent as an honour and that it is you who are doing me an honour, and not I you. You smiled at those words, and I also heard laughter around us. Perhaps I expressed myself too absurdly and was myself absurd, but it still seemed to me that I ... understood what the honour was, and am certain that I told the truth. You were on the point of ruining yourself just now, irrevocably, because you would never have forgiven yourself for it later: but you’re not guilty of anything. It cannot be that your life should be completely ruined. What does it matter that Rogozhin came to see you, and Gavrila Ardalionovich tried to deceive you? Why do you constantly mention that? What you have done, few people are capable of doing, I repeat that to you again, and your wanting to go away with Rogozhin was something you decided in a morbid fit. You are in a fit even now, and would do better to go to bed. Tomorrow you’d have gone and become a washerwoman, and you wouldn’t have stayed with Rogozhin. You are proud, Nastasya Filippovna, bu
t perhaps you’re now so happy that you really do consider yourself guilty. You need much looking after, Nastasya Filippovna. I will look after you. I saw your portrait earlier, and it was as if I recognized a familiar face. It seemed to me at once that you were already somehow calling me ... I ... will respect you all my life, Nastasya Filippovna,’ the prince concluded suddenly, as though suddenly remembering where he was, blushing and realizing the kind of people in front of whom he was saying this.
Ptitsyn even went so far as to chastely incline his head and look at the floor. Totsky thought to himself: ‘An idiot, but he knows that flattery is the best policy; it’s second nature to him!’ The prince also began to notice Ganya’s flashing gaze from the corner, a gaze with which the latter seemed to be trying to reduce him to ashes.
‘What a kind man!’ Darya Alexeyevna proclaimed, touched.
‘An educated man, but a ruined one!’ the general whispered in an undertone.
Totsky picked up his hat and prepared to get to his feet in order to quietly make himself scarce. He and the general exchanged glances, as a sign they were going to leave together.
‘Thank you, Prince, no one has spoken to me like that before,’ said Nastasya Filippovna. ‘They’re always bargaining for me, but no decent man has ever sought my hand in marriage. Did you hear, Afanasy Ivanovich? What do you think of all the things the prince was saying? I mean, it’s almost indecent ... Rogozhin! Wait a while, don’t go yet. And you’re not going anyway, I can see. Perhaps I may come with you after all. Where were you going to take me?’
‘To Yekaterinhof,’ Lebedev said from the corner, while Rogozhin merely started, and stared with all his might, as though he could not believe his ears. He was completely stupefied, as from a terrible blow to the head.
‘But what are you thinking of, my dear! You really are in a fit: have you gone mad?’ cried the frightened Darya Alexeyevna.
‘Did you think I meant it?’ Nastasya Filippovna jumped up from the sofa in loud laughter. ‘Do you think I would ruin a baby like him? That’s more in Afanasy Ivanovich’s line: he’s the one who’s fond of children! Let’s be off, Rogozhin! Get your parcel ready! It doesn’t matter if you don’t want to get married, but let’s have the money all the same. I may not marry you anyway, perhaps. Did you think that if you decided to get married you could keep the parcel? You were wrong! I have no shame! I was Totsky’s concubine ... Prince! You need Aglaya Yepanchina now, not Nastasya Filippovna, or else — Ferdyshchenko will be pointing his finger! You’re not afraid, but I’ll be afraid that I’ve ruined you and that you’ll reproach me for it later! And as for your declaring that I’m doing you an honour, Totsky knows about that. But Ganechka, you’ve missed Aglaya Yepanchina; did you know that? If you hadn’t bargained with her she would have married you instantly! That applies to all of you: either go around with women who are honourable or with those who are dishonourable — there’
s only one choice. Otherwise you will certainly get confused ... Look at the general staring, his mouth is open ...’
‘This is a Sodom, a Sodom!’ the general repeated, shrugging his shoulders. He had also got up from the sofa; they were all on their feet again. Nastasya Filippovna was almost in a frenzy.
‘Is it possible?’ the prince groaned, wringing his hands.
‘Did you think it wasn’t? Perhaps I am proud in my own way, whether I’m a shameless hussy or not! You called me perfection earlier; well, it’s a nice kind of perfection to go slumming just in order to be able to boast of having spurned a million and a princess’s title! Well, what sort of a wife am I for you after that? Afanasy Ivanovich, I really have thrown a million out of the window, you know! What did you think, that I’d consider myself lucky to marry Ganechka on your seventy-five thousand? You may keep your seventy-five thousand, Afanasy Ivanovich (you didn’t even go up to a hundred, Rogozhin outdid you!); as for Ganechka, I’ll console him, I’ve had an idea. But now I want to enjoy myself, I’m a woman of the streets, after all! I’ve spent ten years in prison, now my happiness has arrived! What’s wrong with you, Rogozhin? Get ready, let’s be off!’
‘Let’s be off!’ roared Rogozhin, almost in a frenzy of joy. ‘Hey, you there ... wine! ... lots of it ... Hah! ...’
‘Let’s have lots of wine, I want to drink. And will there be music?’
‘There will, there will! Keep away!’ Rogozhin howled in a frenzy, seeing Darya Alexeyevna going up to Nastasya Filippovna. ‘She’s mine! It’s all mine! The queen! That’s the end of it!’
He was panting with joy; he walked round Nastasya Filippovna, shouting at them all: ‘Keep away!’ The whole company was now jammed into the drawing room. Some were drinking, others shouting and laughing loudly, they were all in a most excited and unrestrained frame of mind. Ferdyshchenko was making efforts to join them. The general and Totsky again moved to get out as quickly as possible. Ganya also had his hat in his hand, but he stood silently, as if still unable to tear himself away from the scene that was unfolding before him.
‘Keep away!’ Rogozhin kept shouting.
‘What are you bawling like that for?’ Nastasya Filippovna laughed at him: ‘I’m still the hostess here; if I want, I can throw you out. I haven’t taken your money yet, look, it’s over there; give it to me, the whole parcel! This is the parcel that contains a hundred thousand? Ugh, how loathsome! What’s wrong, Darya Alexeyevna? But should I really have ruined him?’ (She pointed at the prince.) ‘What’s the point of him marrying, he still needs a nanny; the general there can be his nanny — look how he hangs around him! Look, Prince, your bride-to-be has taken the money because she’s a loose woman, and you wanted to take her in marriage! But why are you crying? Does it leave a bitter taste? But in my opinion you ought to be laughing,’ continued Nastasya Filippovna, on whose cheeks two large tears had begun to glisten. ‘Trust in time — all things will pass! B
etter safe than sorry ... But why are you all crying? There’s Katya crying! I’m leaving a lot to you and Pasha, I’ve already made the arrangements, but now farewell! I’ve forced you, a decent girl, to look after me, a loose woman ... It’s better like this, Prince, truly it’s better, later you would have begun to despise me, and there’d have been no happiness for us! Don’t swear it’s not true, I don’t believe you! And how stupid it would have been! ... No, it’s better that we say farewell on friendly terms, I mean, I myself am a dreamer, and no good would have come of it. Haven’t I dreamed about you? You’re right, I did, a long time ago, in the house on his estate, for five years I lived there all on my own; one thinks and thinks, I used to dream and dream — and always imagining someone like you, kind, honest, good and a bit stupid, that you would suddenly arrive and say: “You bear no guilt, Nastasya Filippovna, and I adore you!” And I used to get so lost in daydreams that I nearly went mad ... And then that man over there would arrive: he would stay for a couple of months of the year, to disgrace, outrage, infuriate, deprave, and leave — so that a thousand times I wanted to hurl myself into the pond, but I was base, I didn’t have the courage; well, and now ... Rogozhin, are you ready?’ ‘It’s all ready! Keep away!’