The Idiot (76 page)

Read The Idiot Online

Authors: Fyodor Dostoyevsky

‘I really don’t feel like joking with you, Lev Nikolaich. I will see Ippolit; please let him know. But as for you, I think you behave very badly, because it’s very ill-mannered to examine and judge a man’s soul in the way that you judge Ippolit. You have no tenderness: only truth, and so you’re not fair.’
The prince reflected.
‘I think it’s you who are being unfair to me,’ he said. ‘I mean, I don’t see anything bad in him having thought like that, because
everyone’s inclined to think like that; what’s more, it may be that he didn’t think at all, just wanted it ... he wanted to meet
people for the last time, to earn their respect and love; after all, those are very fine feelings, it’s just that it in this case it didn’t work out somehow; there was the fact of his illness, and something else as well! And besides, with some people everything works out fine, while with others it all goes as wrong as it possibly can ...’
‘I suppose you added that last bit about yourself?’ Aglaya remarked.
‘Yes, that’s right,’ replied the prince, not noticing any schadenfreude in the question.
‘But all the same, if I were I in your place I should never have fallen asleep; it’s as though wherever you poke your nose in, you fall asleep; that’s very ill-bred of you.’
‘But you see, I hadn’t slept all night, and then I walked and walked, went to where the music was ...’
‘What music?’
‘Where the band played yesterday, and then I came here, sat down, thought and thought, and fell asleep.’
‘Oh, so that’s how it was, was it? That alters things in your favour ... And why did you go to the music?’
‘I don’t know, I just did ...’
‘All right, all right, later; you keep interrupting me, and what does it matter to me if you went to the music? Who is this woman you were dreaming about?’
‘I was dreaming ... about ... you’ve seen her ...’
‘I understand, I understand perfectly. She’s someone you’re very much in ... What was she like in your dream, what did she look like? Though actually, I don’t want to know,’ she snapped suddenly, with annoyance. ‘Don’t keep interrupting me...’
She waited a little, as though plucking up her courage or trying to drive away her annoyance.
‘This is the reason I asked you to come here: I want to propose that you become my friend. Why did you stare at me like that suddenly?’ she added almost with anger.
The prince really was studying her very closely at that moment, having noticed that she had again begun to blush dreadfully. In such instances, the more she blushed, the more angry she seemed to become with herself, which was plainly expressed in her flashing eyes; usually a moment later she would transfer her anger to the person she was talking to, no matter whether he was to blame or not, and begin to quarrel with him. Aware of her awkwardness and bashfulness, and feeling it, she usually kept her conversation to a minimum and was more taciturn than the other sisters, sometimes even too much so. And when, especially in a ticklish case like this, she really had to speak, she would begin the conversation with extreme hauteur, and as if with a kind of challenge. She could always sense in advance when she was starting to blush, or was on the point of starting to do so.
‘Perhaps you don’t want to accept my proposal?’ she cast a haughty look at the prince.
‘Oh yes, I do, only it’s quite unnecessary ... that is, I never thought it was necessary to make such a proposal,’ the prince said in embarrassment.
‘But what did you think, then? Why would I have asked you to come here? What is on your mind? Actually, I think you probably consider me a silly little fool, as they all do at home?’
‘I didn’t know that they consider you a silly little fool, I ... I don’t.’
‘You don’t? That’s very clever on your part. Very cleverly expressed.’
‘In my opinion you are even, perhaps, very clever sometimes,’ continued the prince, ‘you suddenly said something very clever earlier on. You said of my doubts about Ippolit: “You have only truth, and so you’re unfair.” I shall remember that and think about it.’
Aglaya suddenly flushed with pleasure. All these changes took place in her with extreme frankness and extraordinary rapidity. The prince was also delighted, and even burst out laughing with joy as he looked at her.
‘Then listen,’ she began again. ‘I’ve waited a long time to tell you all this, waited ever since you wrote me that letter, and even earlier ... Half of it you already heard from me yesterday: I consider you a most honest and truthful man, more honest and truthful than anyone else, and if they say of you that your mind ... that is, that you’re sometimes ill in your mind, then that is unfair; I’ve decided that, and have had arguments about it, because although you are indeed ill in your mind (please don’t be angry, I’m speaking from a higher point of view), the part of your mind that’s important is better than any of theirs, and it’s of a sort they’ve never even dreamed of, because there are two parts of the mind: one that’s important and one that’s not important. Isn’t that true? It is, isn’t it?’
‘Perhaps it is,’ the prince barely got out; his heart was trembling and thumping dreadfully.
‘I knew you would understand,’ she continued solemnly. ‘Prince Shch. and Yevgeny Pavlych don’t understand anything about those two parts of the mind, and Alexandra doesn’t either, but imagine:
Maman
understood.’
‘You’re very like Lizaveta Prokofyevna.’
‘What? Really?’ Aglaya was astonished.
‘As God is my witness, you are.’
‘I thank you,’ she said, after some thought. ‘I’m very glad I’m like
Maman.
You must respect her very much, then?’ she added, quite unaware of the naivety of the question.
‘Very much, very much, and I’m glad you realized it straight away.’
‘And I’m glad, too, because I have noticed that people sometimes ... laugh at her. But listen, this is the main thing: I’ve thought about it for a long time and have finally chosen you. I don’t want them to laugh at me at home; I don’t want them to consider me a silly little fool; I don’t want them to tease me. I understood all that at once, and rejected Yevgeny Pavlych point-blank, because I don’t want them to keep trying to ma
rry me off! I want ... I want ... well, I want to run away from home, and I’ve chosen you to help me.’
‘Run away from home?’ exclaimed the prince.
‘Yes, yes, yes, run away from home!’ she exclaimed suddenly, burning with extraordinary anger. ‘I don’t want, I don’t want to be made to blush there eternally. I don’t want to blush, either in front of them, or Prince Shch., or Yevgeny Pavlych, or anyone, and I’ve chosen you. To you I want to say everything, everything, even about the most important things, when I want to; for my part, and you must hide nothing from me. I want to talk about everything with at least one human being as I talk to myself. They suddenly began saying that I was waiting for you and that I loved you. That was even before your arrival, and I didn’t show them the letter; but now everyone’s saying it. I want to be bold and not be afraid of anything. I don’t want to go traipsing around their ballrooms, I want to be of some use. I’ve wanted to go away for a long time now. I’ve been corked up with them for twenty years, and all that time they’ve been trying to marry me off. When I was only fourteen I thought of running away, though I was a silly fool. Now I’ve worked it all out and have been waiting for you so I can ask you everything about abroad. I’ve never seen a single Gothic cathedral, I want to stay in Rome, I want to see all the learned cabinets,
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I want to study in Paris; all this last year I’ve been preparing myself and studying and have read an enormous number of books; I’ve read all the forbidden books. Alexandra and Adelaida are always reading books, they’re allowed to, but I’m not given all of them, I’m supervised. I don’t want to quarrel with my sisters, but I told my mother and father long ago that I want to change my social position entirely. I’ve decided to train to be a teacher, and I’m relying on you, because you said you love children. Can we both train to be teachers together, if not now, then in the future? Together we shall be of some use; I don’t want to be a general’s daughter ... Tell me, are you a man of great learning?’
‘Oh, not at all.’
‘That’s a pity, and I thought ... why did I think that, then? But even so, you shall guide me, because I’ve chosen you.’
‘This is absurd, Aglaya Ivanovna.’
‘I want to run away from home, I want to!’ she exclaimed, and again her eyes began to flash. ‘If you won’t agree, I’ll marry Gavrila Ardalionovich. I don’t want to be considered a fallen woman at home and accused of God knows what.’
‘Are you in your right mind?’ the prince nearly leaped up from his seat. ‘What do they accuse you of, who accuses you?’
‘At home, all of them, my mother, my sisters, my father, Prince Shch., even your nasty Kolya! Even if they don’t say it outright, it’s what they think. I said it to their faces, my mother and my father.
Maman
was ill all day; and the next day Alexandra and Papa told me that I didn’t understand that I was talking nonsense and using such words. And
I snapped at them straight that I understand everything now, all the words, that I’m not a little girl now, that two years ago I deliberately read two novels by Paul de Kock,
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in order to find out everything. When she heard that,
Maman
nearly fainted.’
A strange thought suddenly fleeted through the prince’s mind. He looked fixedly at Aglaya, and smiled.
He could not believe that before him sat the same haughty girl who had once so proudly and overbearingly read Gavrila Ardalionovich’s letter aloud to him. He could not understand how in such an overbearing, stern beauty, there could be such a child, who perhaps even now really did not understand
all the words.
‘Have you always lived at home, Aglaya Ivanovna?’ he asked. ‘I mean, you’ve never been to school anywhere, haven’t studied at an institute?’
‘I’ve never been anywhere; I’ve stayed at home, corked up as in a bottle, and I shall marry straight from the bottle, too; why are you laughing again? I notice that you also seem to laugh at me and take their side,’ she added, frowning sternly. ‘Don’t make me angry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me as it is ... I’m convinced that you came here in the full certainty that I’m in love with you and have called you to a tryst,’ she snapped irritably.
‘I really was afraid of that yesterday,’ the prince blurted out ingenuously (he was very embarrassed), ‘but today I’m convinced that you ...’
‘What?’ exclaimed Aglaya, and her lower lip suddenly began to tremble. ‘You were afraid that I ... you dared to think that I ... Good Lord! I dare say you thought I summoned you here in order to draw you into my net so that they’d catch us here and force you to marry me ...’ ‘Aglaya Ivanovna! Are you not ashamed? How could such a sordid thought arise in your pure, innocent heart? I bet you don’t believe a single word you are saying and ... don’t even know what you’re saying!’
Aglaya sat with her eyes stubbornly lowered, as though she herself were frightened by what she had said.
‘I’m not ashamed at all,’ she muttered. ‘How do you know that my heart is innocent? How did you dare to send me a love letter that time?’
‘A love letter? My letter - a love letter? That letter was a most respectful one, that letter poured from my heart at the most difficult moment of my life! I remembered you then as a kind of light
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... I ...’
‘Oh, very well, very well,’ she suddenly interrupted, though not in the same tone at all, but in complete remorse and almost fear, even bent forward to him, but trying not to look at him directly, made to touch him on the shoulder, to plead more convincingly with him not to be angry. ‘Very well,’ she added, dreadfully ashamed, ‘I feel that I used a very stupid expression. I just did it ... in order to test you. Pretend I never said it. And if I’ve offended you, then forgive me. You said it was a very sordid thought: I said it on purpose, to wound you. Sometimes I myself am afraid of the things I feel like saying, and then suddenly I say them. You said jus
t now that you wrote that letter at the most difficult moment of your life ... I know what moment it was,’ she said quietly, again looking at the ground.
‘Oh, if you only knew all of it!’
‘I do know all of it!’ she exclaimed, with fresh agitation. ‘You’d been living for a whole month in the same apartment with that fallen woman you ran away with ...’
She did not blush now, but turned pale as she said this, and suddenly got up from her seat, as though in oblivion, but at once, recovering herself, sat down again; her lip continued to tremble for a long time. The silence lasted for about a minute. The prince was dreadfully shocked at the suddenness of her outburst and did not know what to ascribe it to.
‘I don’t love you at all,’ she said suddenly, as though snapping the words out.
The prince did not reply; again they were silent for about a minute.
‘I love Gavrila Ardalionovich ...’ she said rapidly, but so it was hardly audible, and leaning her head forward even more.
‘That isn’t true,’ the prince said, also nearly in a whisper.
‘So I’m lying, am I? It is true; I gave him my word the day before yesterday, on this same bench.’
The prince was alarmed, and reflected for a moment.
‘It isn’t true,’ he repeated, firmly. ‘You’re making it up.’
‘Remarkably polite. You may as well know that he’s mended his ways; he loves me more than his life. He burned his hand in front of me, just to prove to me that he loves me more than his life.’
‘Burned his hand?’
‘Yes, his hand. Believe it or don’t believe it - it’s all the same to me.’
The prince again fell silent. There was no joking in Aglaya’s words; she was angry.
‘What did he do, bring a candle with him, if it happened here? Otherwise I can’t imagine ...’

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