‘I suppose you think you’re the only one who knows?’ the young man muttered derisively, but with reluctance.
‘She was a countess who, risen from disgrace, reigned in place of the queen and to whom a great empress, in a letter in her own hand, wrote
“ma cousine”.
A cardinal, a papal nuncio, offered to pu
t silk stockings on her bare legs at a
levée du roi
(do you know what a
levée du roi
is?) considering it an honour - an exalted and most holy personage like him! Do you know that? By your face I can see that you don’t! Well, how did she die? Answer, if you know?’
‘Clear off! You’re annoying me.’
‘She died in such a manner that after all that honour, this former ruler of the land was dragged to the guillotine by the executioner Samson, innocent as she was, for the entertainment of the Parisian
poissardes,
and she, from terror, didn’t know what was happening to her. When she saw that he was bending her down by the neck under the blade, pushing her under it, kicking her - the others were laughing - she began to shout:
“Encore un moment, monsieur le bourreau, encore un moment!”
Which means: “Wait just one little moment, Mr Executioner, just one!” And for that moment, perhaps, the Lord will forgive her, because a
misère
worse than that is impossible to imagine for a human soul. Do you know what the word
misère
means? Well, that is the very personification of
misère.
That cry of the countess’s, for one little moment, when I read about it, seized my heart with pincers. And what is it to you, you worm, that I, on going to bed for the night, had the notion of mentioning her, great sinner that she was, in a prayer? Perhaps I mentioned her because probably never since the world came into being has anyone ever made the sign of the cross over his forehead for her sake, or thought of her. I think she’ll find it pleasant in the next world to feel that there was a sinner like her who prayed for her at least once on this earth. What are you laughing for? Atheist, you have no faith. Anyway, how do you know? And you were wrong, if you did overhear me: I didn’t just pray for the Countess Du Barry; my prayer went like this: “Grant repose, O Lord, to the soul of the great sinner the Countess Du Barry, and of all those like her,” and that’s quite different; for there are many such great female sinners and examples of the changes of fortune, who have suffered much, who are without rest there now, groaning, and waiting; and at the same time I prayed for you, and for those like you, impudent, offensive boors, if you’d really taken it upon yourself to overhear my prayers ...’
‘Well, that will do, enough, pray to anyone you like, the devil take you, you’ve done enough shouting!’ the nephew interrupted in vexation. ‘Why, he’s very well read, this man of ours, didn’t you know, Prince?’ he added with an awkward, ironic smile. ‘He’s forever reading books and memoirs of that kind nowadays.’
‘All the same, your uncle is ... not a man without a heart,’ the prince observed reluctantly. This young man was becoming quite repugnant to him.
‘Now that’s the way to praise him! You see, he’s already put his hand on his heart, and his mouth’s curled into a smile, he’s got a taste for it at once! He may not lack a heart, perhaps, but he’s a swindler, that’s the trouble; and what’s more, he’s drunk, he’s come completely unhinged, like any man who’s been a drunkard for several years, that’s why everything abou
t him creaks. He loves his children, let’s grant him that, he respected my deceased aunt ... He even loves me, and has left me something in his will, I swear to God ...’
‘N-nothing will I leave you!’ Lebedev exclaimed with frantic energy.
‘Look, Lebedev,’ the prince said firmly, turning away from the young man. ‘I mean, I know from experience that you’re a man of business when you want to be ... I don’t have much time now, and if you ... Forgive me, what are your name and patronymic? I’ve forgotten.’
‘Ti-Ti-Timofei.’
‘And?’
‘Lukyanovich.’
All who were in the room again burst into laughter.
‘He’s lying!’ cried the nephew. ‘He’s even lying about that! Prince, his name isn’t Timofei Lukyanovich at all, but Lukyan Timofeyevich! Well, tell me, why did you lie? Isn’t it all the same to you if it’s Lukyan or Timofei, and what does the prince care about it? I mean, he lies out of sheer habit, I assure you!’
‘Is it so?’ the prince asked in impatience.
‘My name’s really Lukyan Timofeyevich,’ Lebedev agreed, starting to grow embarrassed, lowering his eyes submissively, and putting his hand on his heart again.
‘But why do you do this, for heaven’s sake?’
‘Out of self-depreciation,’ whispered Lebedev, hanging his head more and more submissively.
‘Oh, what self-depreciation is there in that? If only I knew where to find Kolya now!’ said the prince, turning to go.
‘I can tell you where Kolya is,’ the young man volunteered again.
‘No, no, no!’ Lebedev jumped up and began to bustle about.
‘Kolya spent the night here, but this morning he went to look for his general, whom you, Prince, bailed out of prison, Lord knows why. Yesterday the general promised to come and spend the night here, but he never turned up. He most likely spent the night at the “Scales” Hotel, very near here. Kolya must either be there or in Pavlovsk, at the Yepanchins’. He had money, he wanted to go there yesterday. So he must either be at the “Scales” or in Pavlovsk.’
‘Pavlovsk, Pavlovsk! ... But let’s go outside, out to the garden and ... have coffee ...’
And Lebedev pulled the prince by the arm. They emerged from the room, walked across the small courtyard and went in at the wicker gate. Here there really was a very small and very charming little garden, in which thanks to the good weather all the trees had already opened their leaves. Lebedev showed the prince to a green wooden bench, at a green table set into the ground, and himself sat opposite him. A moment later the coffee really did appear. The prince did not refuse. Lebedev continued to gaze obsequiously and avidly into his eyes.
‘I didn’t know you had a place like this,’ said the prince with the look of a man who was thinking about something else entirely.
‘O-orphans,’ Lebedev began, wriggling into life, but stopped: the prince was gazing distractedly in front of him and had, of course, forgotten his own question. Another minute or so passed; Lebedev watched and waited.
‘Well, where was I?’ said the prince, as though waking up. ‘Ah yes! Why, you yourself know what our business is, Lebedev: I’ve come in response to your letter. So tell me all about it.’
Lebedev grew embarrassed, was about to say something, but merely stammered: no words came out. The prince waited and sadly smiled.
‘I think I understand you very well, Lukyan Timofeyevich: you probably weren’t expecting me. You thought I wouldn’t emerge from my backwoods the first time you notified me, and wrote to me in order to clear your conscience. But here I am. Well, enough, don’t try to deceive me. Enough of serving two masters. Rogozhin’s already been here for three weeks, I know it all. Have you managed to sell her to him, as you did last time, or not? Tell the truth, now.’
‘The monster found out by himself, all by himself.’
‘Don’t call him names; he behaved badly to you, of
course ...’
‘He thrashed me, thrashed me!’ Lebedev retorted with the most frightful intensity. ‘And set his dog on me in Moscow, all the way down the street, his borzoi bitch. A horrible bitch.’
‘You take me for a child, Lebedev. Tell me, has she seriously left him now, in Moscow, that is?’
‘Seriously, seriously, right at the altar again. He was already counting the minutes, but she came here to St Petersburg and straight to me: “Save me, preserve me, Lukyan, and don’t tell the prince ...” Prince, she’s more afraid of you than of him, and therein lies an enigma!’
And Lebedev slyly put a finger to his forehead.
‘And now you’ve brought them together again?’
‘Most illustrious Prince, how could ... how could I have not allowed it?’
‘Well, enough, I’ll find it all out for myself. Just tell me, where is she now? At his house?’
‘Oh no! No, no! Still by herself. I’m free, she says, and you know, Prince, she insists on it, I’m still completely free, she says! She is still living on the St Petersburg Side, in the house of my wife’s sister, as I wrote to you.’
‘And she’s there now?’
‘Yes, if she’s not in Pavlovsk, on account of the good weather, staying with Darya Alexeyevna at her dacha. I’m completely free, she says; just yesterday she was boasting a lot to Nikolai Ardalionovich about her freedom. A bad sign, sir!’
And Lebedev showed his teeth in a grin.
‘Is Kolya often at her house?’
‘He’s flippant and unfathomable, but not secretive.’
‘Have you been there recently?’
‘Every day, every day.’
‘Yesterday, then?’
‘N-no; three days ago, sir.’
‘What a pity you’ve been drinking, Lebedev! Otherwise there is something I would have asked you.’
‘No, no, no, not a drop!’
Lebedev fairly stared at him.
‘Tell me, how was she when you left her?’
‘S-seeking...’
‘Seeking?’
‘As though she were in search of something, something she’d lost. Even the thought of the forthcoming marriage revolts her, she sees it as an insult. She thinks no more of him than of an orange peel, or rather more, with fear and terror, even forbids anyone to talk about it, and they only see each other if it’s absolutely necessary ... and he feels it all too keenly! But there’s no way round it, sir! ... She’s restless, mocking, double-tongued and snipey ...’
‘Double-tongued and snipey?’
‘Snipey: for last time she nearly grabbed me by the hair because of something I said. I’d begun to lecture her from Revelation.’
‘How’s that again?’ the prince asked, thinking he had misheard.
‘I was reading Revelation. A lady with a restless imagination, heh-heh! And what’s more, I’ve deduced the observation that she’s excessively inclined to serious topics, even though they’re strange ones. She likes them, she likes them and even takes them as a mark of particular respect for her. Yes, sir. I’m good at interpreting Revelation, and I’ve been doing it for fifteen years. She agreed with me that we’re at the third horse, the black one, and the horseman who has the pair of balances in his hand, as in the present age everything is by measure and agreement, and all men seek nothing but their own right: “A measure of wheat for a penny, and three measures of barley for a penny”
7
... and also a free spirit and a pure heart, and at the same time they want to preserve all God’s gifts. But they can’t preserve these things by right alone, and after this will follow the pale horse and the one whose name is Death, and after him Hell ... Whenever we meet we discuss this, and - it’s had a powerful effect on her.’
‘Do you believe it yourself?’ asked the prince, surveying Lebedev with an odd look.
‘I believe it and interpret it. For I am destitute and naked, and an atom in the cycle of mankind. And who will respect Lebedev? Everyone falls over backwards to mock him, and everyone more or less sees him off with a kick. Here, on the other hand, in this interpretation, I’m equal to a high official. For I have intellect! And a high official trembled before me ... in his armchair, as his intellect grasped it. Two years ago, before Holy Week, his exalted excellency, Nil Alexeyevich, heard about me - while I was still working in his department - and specially asked me, t
hrough Pyotr Zakharych, to come from the orderly office to see him in his study and when we were alone asked me: “Is it true that you’re a professor of the Antichrist?” And I didn’t hide it: “I am,” I said, and expounded, and presented, and didn’t tone down the horror, but even deliberately heightened it, unfolding the allegorical scroll, and adducing the figures. And he laughed, but at the figures and analogies he began to tremble, and asked me to close the book and leave, and saw to it that by Holy Week I received promotion, and then at the Feast of St Thomas he gave up his soul to God.’
‘Surely not, Lebedev?’
‘It’s true. He fell out of his carriage after a dinner ... hit his temple on a post and, like a little child, like a little child, instantly departed this world. Seventy-three years old according to his record of service; somewhat red in complexion, somewhat grey-haired, sprinkled all over with scent, and always smiling, smiling, like a little child. Pyotr Zakharych recalled at the time: “It was you who foretold it,” he said.’
The prince began to get up. Lebedev was surprised, and even puzzled, that the prince was already getting up.
‘You’ve become very indifferent, sir, heh-heh!’ he ventured to comment, obsequiously.
‘It’s true, I don’t feel very well, I have a headache from the journey, I suppose,’ the prince replied, frowning.
‘You should go to a country dacha, sir,’ Lebedev timidly suggested.
The prince stood lost in reflection.
‘In another three days I’m going to a dacha myself, with all my family, in order to look after the health of the newborn chick and at t
he same time have the house put in order. And I’m also going to Pavlovsk.’
8
‘You, too?’ asked the prince, suddenly. ‘But what is all this, is everyone here going to Pavlovsk? And you say you have your own dacha there?’
‘Not everyone’s going to Pavlovsk, sir. But Ivan Petrovich Ptitsyn let me have cheaply one of the dachas he’s acquired. It’s pleasant, and high up, and leafy, and cheap, and bon ton, and musical, and that’s why everyone goes to Pavlovsk. Actually, I’m in a small wing, and the dacha itself ...’
‘You’ve rented it out?’
‘N-n-no. Not ... not quite, sir.’
‘Rent it to me,’ the prince suggested suddenly.
This was apparently what Lebedev had been leading up to. This idea had flashed through his mind three minutes earlier. And yet he was in no need of a tenant now; he already had a prospective tenant for the dacha who had told him he might perhaps take it. Lebedev knew for a fact, however, that it was not merely ‘perhaps’, and that the man would take it. But suddenly a very promising idea, as he saw it, occurred to him: he could rent the dacha to the prince, taking advantage of the fact that the previous applicant had expressed himself only in vague terms. ‘A real collision and a whole new turn of events,’ suddenly presented itself to his imaginat
ion. He accepted the prince’s offer almost with delight, so that in response to his direct question about the terms he simply waved his arms.