1
He walked along Bogoyavlenskaya Street; finally the road went downhill, he was walking in mud, and suddenly the wide, misty, as it were empty expanse of the river opened up in front of him. Houses gave way to hovels and the street vanished in a multitude of irregular alleys. Nikolai Vsevolodovich made his way along the fences for a while, not straying too far from the river bank, but resolutely finding his way without even thinking much about it. He was preoccupied by something else altogether and looked round in surprise when all of a sudden, coming out of a deep reverie, he found himself almost in the middle of our long, wet pontoon bridge. There wasn’t a soul around, so it struck him as strange suddenly to hear, almost at his very elbow, a politely ingratiating and yet not unpleasant voice, with a saccharine drawl like that affected by our superior tradesmen or our curly-haired young shopkeepers in the Arcade.
‘Would you allow me, kind sir, to share your umbrella?’
And, indeed, a figure of some sort crept, or pretended to creep, under his umbrella. A tramp was walking alongside him, almost ‘rubbing elbows’ as soldiers say. Slowing his pace, Nikolai Vsevolodovich bent over to have a look as best he could in the darkness: the man was not very tall and looked like a tradesman on a binge. He was neither warmly clad nor very well dressed; on his shaggy, curly head perched a soaking-wet cloth cap with its brim half tom off. He seemed to be a strong, lean, dark-haired man, with a swarthy complexion; his eyes were large, definitely black, with a bright gleam and a yellow tinge, like a gypsy’s. This could be divined even in the darkness. He must have been about forty years old and he wasn’t drunk.
‘Do you know me?’ Nikolai Vsevolodovich asked.
‘Mr Stavrogin, Nikolai Vsevolodovich; you was pointed out to me last Sunday at the railway station, just as the p. 273↵train was pulling in. Besides, I’ve heard a lot about you.’
‘From Peter Stepanovich? Are you… are you Fedka the convict?’
‘They baptized me Fyodor Fyodorovich; my mother, she’s still living in these here parts, sir; she’s an old, God-fearing woman, growing more bent over all the time; she prays to God for us every day and night, so she don’t waste her old age lying around on top of a stove.’
‘Are you on the run?’
‘I took fate into my own hands. I gave up books and bells and church affairs, sir, because they sentenced me to life in prison, and that’s too long a time to wait.’
‘What are you doing around here?’
‘Well, day and night—I do the best I can. My uncle died here in the local prison last week, what was in for counterfeiting. So, in his memory, I tossed a few dozen stones at some dogs—that’s all I’ve done so far. Besides, Peter Stepanovich promised to get me a passport, like what a merchant has, good for travel all over Russia, so I’ve been waiting for him to do me that favour. It’s because, he says, his dad lost me in a card game at the English Club; and, he says, I consider that unjust and inhumane. And you, sir, would you be willing to give me three roubles for a little something to warm myself up?’
‘So you’ve been waiting here for me; I don’t like that. On whose orders?’
‘As to whose orders, well, it wasn’t anybody’s; it was just that I knew you was generous, as does everyone else. You know how we get by: an armful of hay or a prod with a pitchfork. Last Friday I stuffed myself with meat pie, like Martin with soap,* but since then I ain’t eaten a thing; next day I fasted, the third day I still had nothing to eat. I’ve had so much water from the river, there’s a school of fish swimming in my belly… So perhaps you could give me something out of your generosity; I have a lady friend what’s waiting for me not too far from here, but I can’t go and see her without no money.’
‘What did Peter Stepanovich promise you’d get from me?’
‘He didn’t promise nothing, sir, but said in so many p. 274↵words, sir, I might be useful to you should occasion arise; but in what way, he didn’t say exactly, because Peter Stepanovich wants to see if I have the patience of a Cossack, and he has no confidence in me at all.’
‘Why not?’
‘Peter Stepanych is an astrologer and knows all God’s planets, but even he’s not above criticism. I stand before you, sir, as before God Himself, because I’ve heard a lot about you. Peter Stepanovich is one thing, but you, sir, are another. When they say a man’s a scoundrel, you know nothing more about him except that he’s a scoundrel. And if they say he’s a fool, then that man has no other calling except that of a fool. I may be just a fool on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, but on Thursdays I’m cleverer than what he is. Well, he knows I’m really looking for a passport now—since there’s no way you’ll get around Russia without documents—so now he thinks he’s got his claws into my soul. Peter Stepanovich, I can tell you, sir, has an easy time of it because first he gets his own picture of a man and then that’s what he always sees. Besides, he’s very stingy. He fancies I won’t dare disturb you without his permission, but I stand before you, sir, as before God Himself—why, I’ve been waiting for your honour on this bridge the last four nights, to show him I can make my own way quietly without the likes of him. After all, I think to myself, better to bow down to a boot than a bast sandal.’
‘And who told you I’d be coming across this bridge at night?’
‘Well, sir, truth be told, that came out by chance, mainly from Captain Lebyadkin’s stupidity because he ain’t got no control of himself… So, be generous and give me three roubles to pay me back for them boring last three days and nights of waiting. As for my soaking-wet clothes, well, that’s a crying shame, but I’ll say no more.’
‘I’m turning to the left and you’re going to the right; here’s the end of the bridge. Listen, Fyodor, I like people to understand what I say once and for all: I won’t give you a kopeck. Don’t ever come to meet me on this bridge or anywhere else. I have no need for you and won’t ever have, p. 275↵and if you don’t listen to me—then I’ll tie you up and take you to the police. Now, march!’
‘Aha! Well, you give me something for my company at least. I’ve cheered you up a bit, ain’t I?’
‘Get away!’
‘Do you know your way around here, sir? There’re all sorts of alleys… I could guide you, for this town’s so confusing, it’s just like the devil had carried it around in a basket and shook it up.’
‘Hey, I’ll tie you up!’ Nikolai Vsevolodovich said, turning threateningly.
‘You might change your mind, sir; you don’t want to harm a poor orphan like me.’
‘Well, you’re certainly sure of yourself!’
‘I’m sure of you, sir, but not too sure of myself.’
‘I said I have no need for you at all!’
‘But I have need of you, sir, that’s what. I’ll wait for you on the way back. That’s all there is to it.’
‘I give you my word of honour: if I meet you here, I’ll tie you up.’
‘Well, then, I’d better get a belt ready for you, sir. All the best, sir. You’ve kept a poor orphan dry under your umbrella, and for that alone I’ll be grateful to you until the day I die.’
He dropped back. Nikolai Vsevolodovich reached his destination feeling very anxious. This man who’d appeared like a bolt from the blue had been absolutely certain he was indispensable to him and altogether too bold in his hasty declaration of that fact. In general he felt people were being a bit casual with him. But it could very well be that the tramp hadn’t been lying altogether, that he really had been trying to force his services on him on his own initiative, without Peter Stepanovich’s knowledge; and that would be even more peculiar.
2
The house Stavrogin arrived at stood in a deserted alley on the very edge of town between fences separating endless allotments. The little wooden house was isolated, newly built p. 276↵and still without cladding. The shutters on one of the windows had been intentionally left open and a lighted candle stood on the window-sill—apparently as a signal to a visitor expected late that night. Some thirty paces away Nikolai Vsevolodovich made out the figure of a tall man, probably the master of the house, standing on the porch; in his impatience he’d come out to look up the road. His voice could be heard as well, impatient and seemingly timid:
‘Is that you, sir? Is it you?’
‘Yes it is,’ replied Nikolai Vsevolodovich, but not before he’d reached the porch and closed his umbrella.
‘At last, sir!’ said Captain Lebyadkin—for it was he—and began stamping his feet and fussing around him. ‘Let me take your umbrella; it’s soaking wet, sir; I’ll open it up and put it here on the floor in the corner. Come in, sir, come in.’
The door was wide open from a passage leading into a room lit by two candles.
‘If you hadn’t given me your word you were definitely coming, I’d have given up hope.’
‘It’s a quarter to one,’ said Nikolai Vsevolodovich, looking at his watch as he entered the room.
‘It’s pouring down, and so far to come… I’ve no watch and all I can see from my window is the allotments so… I lose track of things… but, I’m not really complaining. I wouldn’t dare, I wouldn’t; it’s only because of the impatience that’s been consuming me all week for it… finally to be resolved.’
‘What?’
‘My fate, Nikolai Vsevolodovich. Do come in.’
He bowed and indicated a place on the sofa near the table.
Nikolai Vsevolodovich looked around; the room was tiny with a low ceiling; the furniture consisted exclusively of essentials—wooden chairs and a sofa, also of recent construction without covers or cushions, two lime-wood tables, one near the sofa, the other in the corner covered with a tablecloth, set with dishes on which a clean napkin had been Spread. In fact, the whole room was obviously kept very neat and clean. Captain Lebyadkin hadn’t been drunk for p. 277↵the last eight days; his face looked bloated and bilious, his expression, restless, curious, and obviously bewildered: it was all too evident that he himself didn’t know what tone of voice to use and what approach would be most advantageous.
‘Here, sir,’ he said, indicating his surroundings, ‘I live like some Zosima. Abstinence, solitude, and poverty—the knights’ vows in days of old.’
‘You suppose that knights used to take such vows?’
‘Have I made a mistake? Alas, I lack education! I’ve made a mess of everything! Would you believe, Nikolai Vsevolodovich, here for the first time I’ve recovered from my shameful proclivity—not one glass, not a single drop! I have a place to live and for the last six days I’ve felt the blessing of a clear conscience. Even the walls smell of resin and remind me of nature. What sort of man was I, what was I before?
At night I’d wander without a home, My tongue hanging out by day…*
in the poet’s inspired phrase of a poet! But… you’re soaking wet… Wouldn’t you like some tea?’
‘Don’t trouble.’
‘The samovar’s been boiling since eight o’clock, but… it’s gone out… like everything else in the world. Even the sun, they say, will go out in its turn… But if necessary, I’ll get it going again. Agafya’s not asleep.’
‘Tell me, is Mary a Timofeevna…’
‘She’s here, indeed she is,’ Lebyadkin interrupted him at once in a whisper. ‘Would you like to see her?’ he asked, indicating the closed door to the other room.
‘She’s not asleep?’
‘Oh, no, goodness, no! On the contrary, she’s been expecting you all evening; as soon as she heard you arrive, she went to dress up.’ His mouth nearly twisted into a facetious smile, but he checked himself.
‘How has she been in general?’ Nikolai Vsevolodovich asked, frowning.
‘In general? I don’t have to tell you the answer to that,’ he said with a shrug of pity, ‘but now… now she’s telling her fortune with cards…’
p. 278↵‘All right, later; first let’s finish with you.’
Nikolai Vsevolodovich sat down on a chair.
The captain didn’t dare sit on the sofa, but quickly pulled up another chair, sat down, and leaned forward to listen in agitated expectation.
‘What have you got there in the corner under the cloth?’ Nikolai Vsevolodovich asked, suddenly noticing.
‘That, sir?’ Lebyadkin replied, also turning to look. ‘That comes from your generosity, a sort of housewarming, so to speak, also taking into account the great distance you’ve come and your natural fatigue,’ he said with an affecting snigger; then he got up from his seat and tiptoed over to remove the cloth very carefully and respectfully from the table in the comer. Under it there was an assortment of refreshments: ham, veal, sardines, cheese, a small green carafe and a tall bottle of claret; everything was neatly arranged, expertly, almost fashionably.
‘Did you go to all this trouble?’
‘Yes, sir. Been at it since yesterday, and everything I could, in your honour… Marya Timofeevna, as you know, doesn’t care about this sort of thing. The most important point is, because of your generosity, it’s all yours, since you’re the master of this house, not me; I am, so to speak, your agent, though all the same, all the same, Nikolai Vsevolodovich, all the same, my spirit is still independent! You won’t take that last thing away from me!’ he concluded poignantly.
‘Hmmm! I do wish you’d sit down again.’
‘I’m so-o grateful, grateful and independent!’ He sat down. ‘Ah, Nikolai Vsevolodovich, so much has been brewing in this heart of mine I could hardly wait for you! Now you will decide my fate… and the fate of that unfortunate creature, and then… then, I’ll pour my heart out to you, as I used to in the old days, four years ago! You did me the honour of listening then, you read my verses… So what if they called me your Falstaff, from Shakespeare? You meant so much to me in my own life! I’m in great fear now and awaiting advice and illumination from you alone. Peter Stepanovich is treating me abominably!’
p. 279↵Nikolai Vsevolodovich listened to him with interest and looked at him intently. Obviously, even though Captain Lebyadkin had stopped drinking, his state of mind was still far from serene. The speech of such inveterate drunkards always ends up a little incoherent, vague, somehow imperfect or insane, even though they still cheat, scheme, and deceive if necessary no worse than anyone else.
‘I see you haven’t changed in the least, Captain, during the last four years.’ Nikolai Vsevolodovich spoke somewhat more politely. ‘Apparently it’s true that the second half of a man’s life consists entirely of habits acquired during the first half.’
‘Elegant words! You’re solving the mystery of life!’ cried the captain, half bluffing and half in genuine delight because he was a great admirer of clever sayings. ‘Of all your sayings, Nikolai Vsevolodovich, I recall one in particular that you used back in Petersburg: “One must really be a great man to be able to go against common sense.” So there!’
‘Well, or else a fool.’
‘All right then, or else a fool, but you’ve been dropping witticisms all your life, while they…? Let Liputin or Peter Stepanovich just try and say something like that! oh, Peter Stepanovich has treated me so cruelly!’
‘But how about you, Captain, how have you behaved yourself?’
‘It was the drink, and besides, I’ve a whole host of enemies! But now all, all of that’s over with, and I’ve grown a new skin like a snake. Nikolai Vsevolodovich, do you know I’m writing my will and have already finished it?’
‘That’s interesting. What are you planning to leave and to whom?’
‘To my fatherland, to humanity, and to students. Nikolai Vsevolodovich, I read the biography of a certain American in the newspapers. He left his enormous fortune to factories and to the exact sciences, his skeleton to students in the local academy, and his skin was to be made into a drum on which the American national anthem was to be pounded out day and night. Alas, we’re mere pygmies compared to these flights of imagination in the States of North America; Russia p. 280↵is a freak of nature, but not of intellect. If I were to try and leave my skin to be made into a drum, to the Akmolinsky Infantry Regiment for example, in which I had the honour to begin my service, and if I were to specify that every day the Russian national anthem was to played on it in front of the whole regiment, they’d accuse me of liberalism and my skin would be banned… so for that reason I’ve confined myself to students. I want to leave my skeleton to the academy, but on condition, only on condition that a label be stuck on the forehead proclaiming for ever and ever: “Repentant freethinker”. So there!’
The captain spoke heatedly and undoubtedly believed in the beauty of that American legacy; but he was also a rogue and very much wanted to amuse Nikolai Vsevolodovich, whom he’d served for a long time in the capacity of jester. But Stavrogin didn’t even smile; on the contrary he enquired suspiciously:
‘Of course you plan to publish your will during your lifetime and be rewarded for it?’
‘And what if I do, Nikolai Vsevolodovich, what if I do?’ Lebyadkin replied, looking at him closely. ‘What sort of life have I had? I’ve even stopped writing poetry; at one time even you were amused by my verses, Nikolai Vsevolodovich, do you remember, over a bottle? But I’ve put down my pen. I wrote only one poem, like Gogol’s “Last Story”,* you recall, where he proclaims to Russia that the story had “poured forth from his heart like a song”. I’ve sung my song as well and that’s that.’
‘What kind of poem?’
‘It’s called, “If she were to break a leg”!’
‘Wha-at?’
That was just what the captain was waiting for. He had immeasurable respect and admiration for his own poems, but also, because of a certain roguish duplicity in his nature, he also liked the idea that Nikolai Vsevolodovich was always amused by his verses and would laugh at them, sometimes splitting his sides. In this way his two purposes were satisfied—the poetic and the subservient. But now he had yet a third, very delicate purpose in mind: in bringing his p. 281↵verses on to the scene, the captain hoped to justify himself on one point which he’d always felt extremely apprehensive and very guilty about.
‘ “If she were to break a leg”, that is, while out riding. It’s a fantasy, Nikolai Vsevolodovich, a delirium, but the delirium of a poet: once I was struck by meeting a lady on a horse and I posed a fundamental question: “What would happen if?”—I mean, if that happened. The answer’s obvious: all her admirers would scurry away, all her suitors would desert her, saying “Goodbye for ever, my pretty lass.” Only the poet would remain faithful to her, though his heart would be shattered in his breast. Nikolai Vsevolodovich, even a louse can fall in love; there’s no law against it. But the lady was offended by the letter and the verses. They say even you were angry, isn’t that so? That’s sad; I didn’t want to believe it. Well, what harm could I do with my imagination alone? Besides, word of honour, Liputin put me up to it: “Go on, send it. Every man has the right to send a letter.” So I sent it.’
‘Apparently you offered yourself as her suitor?’
‘Enemies, enemies, enemies!’
‘Recite your verse,’ Nikolai Vsevolodovich said, interrupting him sternly.
‘Ravings, it’s ravings more than anything.’
But he stood up straight, stretched out his hand, and began to recite:
‘Now that the fairest has broken her limb, She fascinates twice as much as before, And he whose heart was already a-brim Now twice as much the lady adores.’
‘That’s enough,’ said Nikolai Vsevolodovich with a wave of his hand.
‘I dream of Petersburg.’ Lebyadkin switched to another subject as if no poem had ever existed. ‘I dream of regeneration… Oh, my benefactor! Can I count on you not to refuse me money for the journey? I’ve waited for you all week as one waits for the sun.’
‘No, I’m sorry, I have hardly any money left at all. p. 282↵Besides, why should I give you any?’
Nikolai Vsevolodovich suddenly seemed to lose his temper. In dry, curt tones he enumerated all the captain’s crimes: drunkenness, lying, wasting the money intended for Marya Timofeevna, taking her away from the convent, sending insolent letters threatening to reveal the secret, behaving badly with Darya Pavlovna, and so on and so forth. The captain cringed, gesticulated, began to object, but each time Nikolai Vsevolodovich stopped him peremptorily.
‘And one more thing,’ he said at last. ‘You keep writing about “family disgrace”. What kind of disgrace is it for your sister to be Stavrogin’s lawful spouse?’
‘But the marriage is kept secret, Nikolai Vsevolodovich, it’s a secret, a fateful secret. I get money from you and all of a sudden I’m asked: what’s this money for? I’m in a bind and unable to reply for fear of harming my sister or the honour of my family.’
The captain raised his voice: he loved this subject and relied upon it heavily. Alas, he didn’t anticipate the blow in store for him. Serenely and precisely, as if he were talking about the most ordinary domestic arrangements, Nikolai Vsevolodovich informed him that in several days, perhaps as soon as tomorrow or the day after tomorrow, he was intending to announce his marriage publicly, “to the police, as well as to society”, and by so doing, the question of his family honour would be laid to rest, likewise the question of any subsidies. The captain’s eyes bulged; he didn’t even understand; it was necessary to explain it all to him.
‘But she’s… a half-wit!’
‘I’ll make suitable arrangements.’
‘But… what about your mother?’
‘Well, she can do as she likes.’
‘But will you bring your wife into your house?’
‘Perhaps. But that’s not really your business and it doesn’t concern you.’
‘What do you mean, it doesn’t concern me?’ the captain cried. ‘What about me?’
‘Well, you won’t be brought into the house, of course.’
‘But I’m your relative.’
p. 283↵‘People flee from relatives like you. Why should I provide you with money, can you tell me?’
‘Nikolai Vsevolodovich, this won’t do, Nikolai Vsevolodovich. Perhaps you should think more about it. You don’t want to lay hands upon… What will people think? What will they say in society?’
‘Do you think I’m afraid of your society? I married your sister when I felt like it, after a drunken dinner, in a bet over a bottle of wine, and now I’ll declare it all publicly… if it amuses me to do so now.’
He said this with particular irritation so the horrified Lebyadkin began to believe him.
‘But what about me? Me? I’m the point here!… Maybe you’re joking, Nikolai Vsevolodovich?’
‘No, I’m not.’
‘As you like, Nikolai Vsevolodovich, but I still don’t believe you… If you do it, I’ll lodge a formal complaint.’
‘You’re awfully stupid, Captain.’
‘Maybe so, but it’s all I have left!’ the captain said, completely at a loss. ‘Previously at least we used to get free lodging in exchange for housework my sister did in those places. But what will happen to us now if you just throw me out altogether?’
‘You want to go to Petersburg and find a new career, don’t you? By the way, is it true what I’ve heard, that you plan to inform on all the others in the hope of obtaining a pardon for yourself?’
The captain’s mouth gaped wide open, his eyes bulged, and he made no reply.
‘Listen, Captain,’ Stavrogin suddenly began with utmost seriousness, bending close to the table. Up to now what he said had been as it were ambiguous, so Lebyadkin, who was used to playing the role of jester, was a little uncertain right up to the last moment: was his master really angry or merely fooling? Did he really have the crazy idea of announcing his marriage, or was he only teasing? Now Nikolai Vsevolodovich’s unusually stern expression was so convincing that a shiver ran up and down the captain’s back. ‘Listen to me and tell me the truth, Lebyadkin: have you informed about p. 284↵something or not? Have you really managed to do anything? Have you sent off some stupid letter?’
‘No, sir, I haven’t done anything and… haven’t even thought about it,’ the captain replied, staring at him without moving.
‘Well, you’re lying when you say you haven’t even thought about it. That’s why you’re wanting to go to Petersburg. If you didn’t write anything, did you blurt anything out to someone around here? Tell me the truth; I’ve heard something about it.’
‘When I was drunk I said something to Liputin. Liputin’s a traitor. I opened up my heart to him,’ whispered the poor captain.
‘Opening your heart is one thing, but there’s no reason to be an idiot. If you had an idea, you should have kept it to yourself; nowadays people with sense keep silent and don’t talk.’
‘Nikolai Vsevolodovich!’ said the captain with a shudder. ‘You’ve had no part in any of it, so it’s not against you that I…’
‘Surely you wouldn’t inform against the cow that gives you milk?’
‘Judge for yourself, Nikolai Vsevolodovich, judge for yourself!’ And in despair, weeping, the captain began a hasty account of his life over the last four years. It was an idiotic tale of a fool who meddled in other people’s affairs, the importance of which he hardly understood until the last moment because of his drunkenness and debauchery. He told how, while still in Petersburg, ‘he’d been drawn in, at first simply out of friendship, like a true student, even though he wasn’t really a student’, and how, not knowing anything, ‘not guilty of anything’, he distributed various leaflets on staircases, left dozens of them on doorsteps and bell-handles, stuck them into letter-boxes instead of newspapers, brought them to the theatre, left them in people’s hats, slipped them into pockets. Then he started to receive money from them, ‘because I was hard up, sir, very hard up!’ He distributed ‘all sorts of rubbish’ around districts in two different provinces.
p. 285↵‘Oh, Nikolai Vsevolodovich,’ he cried, ‘what troubled me most was that it went against all civil laws and especially the laws of the fatherland! All of a sudden they printed that peasants should take up their pitchforks and march, bearing in mind that he who sallied forth poor in the morning might return home rich in the evening. Just think, sir! It made me shudder, but I kept distributing the stuff. Or else, suddenly five or six lines addressed to all Russia, without rhyme or reason: “Close down your churches at once, abolish God, dispense with marriage, do away with inheritance rights, take up your knives”, and that’s that, the devil only knows what else. With that scrap of paper, with its five lines, I was almost caught; the officers in the regiment gave me a beating, and then, God bless them, they let me go. Last year I was almost arrested again for passing off counterfeit fifty-rouble notes made in France on Korovaev; but, thank God, Korovaev was drunk and drowned in a pond just in time, and they didn’t ever convict me. Here at Virginsky’s house I proclaimed the freedom of a socialist wife. In June again I was distributing leaflets in a certain district. They say I’ll have to do it again… Peter Stepanovich suddenly declares that I have to obey them; he’s been threatening me for some time. You saw how he treated me that Sunday! Nikolai Vsevolodovich, I’m a slave, a worm, not God; that’s what distinguishes me from Derzhavin.* I’m hard up, sir, very hard up!’
Nikolai Vsevolodovich listened to all this with interest.
‘Much of what you say I didn’t know,’ he replied, ‘of course, anything could’ve happened to you… Listen,’ he said after a moment’s thought, ‘Tell them, if you like, well, you know who, that Liputin was lying and you were only trying to scare me by planning to inform, assuming that I was compromised too, and that you might’ve been able to get more money out of me that way. Do you understand?’
‘Nikolai Vsevolodovich, my dear friend, do you really think I’m in such great danger? I’ve been waiting to ask you that question.’
Nikolai Vsevolodovich laughed.
‘They wouldn’t let you go to Petersburg, of course, even p. 286↵if I gave you money for the trip… but now it’s time I saw Marya Timofeevna,’ he said and got up from his chair.
‘Nikolai Vsevolodovich, what about Marya Timofeevna?’
‘Like I told you.’
‘Is it really true?’
‘You still don’t believe me?’
‘Would you really cast me aside like an old, worn-out boot?’
‘I’ll see,’ said Nikolai Vsevolodovich with a laugh. ‘Well, let me go through.’
‘If you wish, sir, I’ll go and stand on the steps… so I don’t overhear anything accidentally… the rooms are so tiny.’
‘Fine; go and stand on the steps. Take my umbrella.’
‘Your umbrella… do I deserve it, sir?’ the captain asked in an ingratiating way.
‘Everyone deserves an umbrella.’
‘In one little phrase you’ve defined the minimum of human rights…’
But by now he was muttering automatically; he was too crushed by the news and completely at a loss. Moreover, almost as soon as he went out on to the steps and put up the umbrella, the usual reassuring thought that he was being deceived and lied to entered his frivolous, scheming head, and, if that was so, then he had nothing to fear since they were so afraid of him.
‘If they’re lying and deceiving me, what’s the real point of it?’ he wondered, and the thought gnawed away at him. The proclamation of the marriage seemed ridiculous to him: ‘It’s true this miracle-worker can make anything happen; he lives to harm other people. Well, and what if he’s afraid himself since last Sunday’s affront, more afraid than ever before? Now he’s come to say that he’ll announce it himself, because he’s afraid I’ll do it first. Hey, don’t blow it, Lebyadkin! Why come at night, like a sneak, if he plans to make it public? And if he’s afraid, it means he’s afraid right now, this very minute, and has been for the last few days… Hey, don’t mess it up, Lebyadkin!…
‘He’s using Peter Stepanovich to frighten me. Oh, this is scary, very scary; yes, it really is scary! Whatever possessed p. 287↵me to blurt it all out to Liputin? The devil knows what these devils are up to, I can’t work it out. They’re getting busy again, just as they were five years ago. Honestly, who could I have denounced them to? “Did I write anyone a stupid letter?” Hmmm. Maybe I could write as if I was just being stupid? Is he giving me advice? “That’s why you’re going to Petersburg.” The scoundrel—I’ve only dreamed about it, while he’s already planned it all! It’s like he’s urging me to go. There’s one of two things going on here: either he’s afraid himself again because he’s been playing tricks, or… or he’s not afraid of anything and is merely urging me to inform on all of them! Oh, Lebyadkin, it’s scary. Oh, don’t mess it up!…’
He was so absorbed in thought he forgot to eavesdrop. However, it was hard to listen at the door; it was solid, made of one thick piece of wood, and they were speaking softly; only muffled sounds could be heard. The captain actually spat in disgust and went out again, lost in thought, to whistle on the steps.
3
Marya Timofeevna’s room was twice the size of the one occupied by her brother and was furnished in the same rough style; but the table in front of the sofa was covered with a pretty, colourful tablecloth; a lighted lamp stood on it; there was a handsome carpet on the floor; the bed was separated off by a long green curtain going right across the room; in addition, there was one large, soft armchair near the table, in which, however, Marya Timofeevna never sat. In the comer, as in the previous apartment, there was an icon with a lighted lamp hanging in front of it; on the table the same essential articles were laid out: a deck of cards, a small mirror, a song-book, even a bread roll. Moreover, there were two small books with coloured illustrations, one excerpts from a popular travel book adapted for young people, the other a collection of light, edifying stories, for the most part set in the age of chivalry, intended as a Christmas present or for schoolchildren. There was also an album of photographs. Of course Marya Timofeevna was expecting a visitor, p. 288↵since the captain had warned her; but when Nikolai Vsevolodovich entered, she was asleep, half-reclining on the sofa, her head resting on an embroidered worsted cushion. The guest quietly closed the door behind him, and from where he stood began to examine the sleeping woman.
The captain had been lying when he said she was dressing up. She was wearing the same dark dress she had had on that Sunday at Varvara Petrovna’s house. Her hair was arranged in exactly the same way, gathered into a small knot on her nape; her long, thin neck was just as bare. The black shawl Varvara Petrovna had given her lay on the sofa, carefully folded. Just as before she was wearing too much powder and rouge. Nikolai Vsevolodovich hadn’t stood there for more than a minute when she suddenly woke up, as if she’d felt his gaze fixed upon her; she opened her eyes and sat up quickly. But something strange must have happened to the visitor: he stayed standing on the same spot near the door; without moving, he continued staring into her face silently and steadily with his penetrating gaze. Perhaps his gaze was too severe; perhaps it expressed aversion, even a malicious pleasure in her fear—perhaps that was only the way it seemed to Marya Timofeevna as she emerged from her dream. But all of a sudden, after almost a minute’s wait, a look of absolute terror came over the poor young woman’s face; she shuddered, stood up, raised her trembling hands, and suddenly burst into tears, just like a frightened child; a moment longer and she’d have screamed. But the guest regained his composure; in an instant his face changed and he went over to the table with a most pleasant and affectionate smile.
‘I’m sorry I frightened you, Marya Timofeevna, by arriving unexpectedly while you were asleep,’ he said, extending his hand to her.
The sound of his affectionate words produced their intended effect; her fear vanished, although she continued to regard him apprehensively, obviously making an effort to understand something. Fearfully she extended her own hand. At last a timid smile appeared on her lips.
‘Hello, Prince,’ she whispered, looking at him strangely.
p. 289↵‘You must have been having a bad dream,’ he went on, smiling even more pleasantly and affectionately.
‘How did you know I was dreaming about that…?’
Suddenly she began trembling again and took a step back, holding her hand up as though trying to protect herself, and about to cry once again.
‘Calm down; that’s enough. What are you afraid of? Don’t you recognize me?’ Nikolai Vsevolodovich asked, reassuring her, but this time it took much longer; she looked at him in silence with the same agonizing bewilderment, with some distressing thought in her poor head, desperately trying to grasp something. First she lowered her eyes, then suddenly threw him a swift, comprehensive glance. Finally, although she didn’t really calm down, she seemed to have arrived at some conclusion.
‘Sit down, please, here next to me, so I can get a good look at you later,’ she said rather firmly, obviously with some new aim in mind. ‘But as for now, don’t worry, I won’t look at you; I’ll look down. And don’t you look at me either until I ask you to. Sit down,’ she added, even rather impatiently.
Some new feeling was evidently taking increasing possession of her.
Nikolai Vsevolodovich sat down and waited; a long silence followed.
‘Hmmm. This is all very strange,’ she mumbled suddenly, almost in distaste. ‘Of course I was haunted by bad dreams; but why did I dream about you like that?’
‘Well, let’s leave your dreams alone for now,’ he said impatiently, turning to look at her in spite of the prohibition, and for a moment that same expression may have come back into his eyes. He noticed she wanted to look at him several times, very much so, but she stubbornly restrained herself and kept looking down.
‘Listen, Prince,’ she said, suddenly raising her voice. ‘Listen, Prince…’
‘Why have you turned away? Why don’t you look at me? What’s this comedy all about?’ he cried, unable to control himself.
But it was as if she didn’t hear him at all.
p. 290↵‘Listen, Prince,’ she repeated a third time in a firm voice, with an unpleasant, troubled expression on her face. ‘When you told me the other day in the carriage that our marriage would be announced, I was afraid because our secret would be out. Now I’m not sure any more; I’ve thought about it and I can see I’m not good enough. I’d manage dressing up, and might even be able to receive guests: it’s no trouble inviting people in for a cup of tea, especially if you have servants. All the same, what will people say? That day, last Sunday, I noticed a great many things in your house. That pretty young lady was looking at me all the time, especially when you came in. It was you who came in then, wasn’t it? Her mother is just a silly old society lady. My Lebyadkin also distinguished himself; I kept staring at the ceiling so I wouldn’t laugh, they have a beautifully decorated ceiling there. His mother should really have been a Mother Superior; I’m afraid of her, even though she gave me the black shawl. All those people must have seen an unexpected side of me then. I wasn’t angry, but I sat there thinking: what relation am I to them? Of course, only spiritual qualities are demanded of a countess—because she has so many servants to perform domestic tasks—and some social coquetry as well to be able to receive foreign visitors. Nevertheless, that Sunday they looked at me with despair. Dasha alone was an angel. I’m terribly afraid they might upset him by some careless remark about me.’
‘Don’t be afraid and don’t worry,’ Nikolai Vsevolodovich said, making a wry face.
‘However, it doesn’t matter to me if he’s a little ashamed of me, because there’s always more pity than shame, depending on the person, of course. He knows, after all, I should pity them more than they should pity me.’
‘It seems you were really offended by them, Marya Timofeevna.’
‘Who, me? Oh, no,’ she said with a good-natured laugh. ‘Not at all. I looked around at you all: you were all so angry and quarrelling with each other; you get together, but don’t know how to have a good laugh. So much wealth, but so little mirth—I find it all so depressing. But I don’t feel p. 291↵sorry for anyone now, except for myself.’
‘I’ve heard you had a hard time with your brother when I wasn’t there.’
‘Who told you that? Nonsense; it’s much worse now. Now I’m having bad dreams. I started having bad dreams because you came. I’d like to know why you’ve come. Tell me, please.’
‘Don’t you want to go back to the convent?’
‘Oh, I just knew they’d suggest I go back to the convent! That monastery of yours is nothing special, you know! Why should I go back? What would I go back there with now? I’m completely alone! It’s late for me to start a third life.’
‘You’re very angry about something. Could it be you’re afraid I don’t love you any more?’
‘I’m not worried about you at all. I’m afraid I might fall out of love with someone.’
She laughed scornfully.
‘I must have done him some great wrong,’ she added suddenly, as if to herself. ‘But I don’t know what it is; that’s always been my trouble. Always, always, these last five years, day and night I was afraid I had done him some wrong. I’ve prayed and prayed, and think constantly about the great wrong I’ve done him. Now it turns out it was true.’
‘What turns out?’
‘I’m only afraid there might be something on his side,’ she went on, not answering the question, not even hearing it. ‘And then again, he couldn’t get along with such awful people. The countess would be glad to devour me, even though she let me ride in her carriage. Everyone’s involved in a conspiracy—perhaps he is, too. Has he really betrayed me?’ (Her chin and lips trembled.) ‘You listen to me: have you ever read about Grishka Otrepiev* who was damned in seven cathedrals?’
Nikolai Vsevolodovich remained silent.
‘Well, now I’ll turn around and look at you,’ she said, as if deciding suddenly. ‘You turn around and look at me, too, but carefully. I want to make sure for the last time.’
‘I’ve been looking at you for a while.’
p. 292↵‘Hmmm,’ Marya Timofeevna said, examining him closely. ‘You’ve put on some weight…’
She was going to say more, but all of a sudden, for the third time, the earlier terror momentarily distorted her features; she took another step backwards, raising her arm to protect herself.
‘What’s wrong with you?’ Nikolai Vsevolodovich cried, almost in a rage.
But her terror lasted only a moment; her face twisted into a strange, suspicious, unpleasant grin.
‘I would ask you, Prince,’ she said suddenly in a firm, insistent voice, ‘to get up and come in.’
‘Come in? Come in where?’
‘For five years I’ve been imagining how he would come in. Now get up and go out of the door into the other room. I’ll sit here, as if expecting nothing. I’ll pick up a book. And all of a sudden you’ll come in, after five years of travelling. I want to see what it’ll be like.’
Nikolai Vsevolodovich ground his teeth and muttered something unintelligible.
‘Enough!’ he said, slapping his hand on the table. ‘I want you to listen to me, Marya Timofeevna. Do me a favour, focus your entire attention, if you can. After all, you’re not completely crazy!’ he blurted out in impatience. ‘Tomorrow I plan to announce our marriage publicly. You’ll never get to live in a palace, rest assured. Would you like to spend the rest of your life with me, living far away from here? There’s a place in the mountains in Switzerland… Don’t worry, I’ll never leave you and won’t put you in a madhouse. We’ll have enough money to live, without asking anyone’s help. You’ll have a servant; you won’t have to work. Everything you desire that’s possible you shall have. You’ll say your prayers, go where you like, do what you wish. I won’t touch you. I shan’t go away anywhere for the rest of my life either. If you want, I won’t even speak to you for the rest of my life; or, if you like, every evening you can tell me stories as you did in Petersburg in those places you lived. I’ll read books to you, if you like. But only if you agree to spend your whole life in one place, and it’s a grim p. 293↵place. Do you want to? Have you decided? You won’t regret it, will you, or torment me with tears and curses?’
She listened to him with extraordinary interest and sat thinking in silence for a long time.
‘It all seems so incredible to me,’ she said at last ironically and with distaste. ‘So I might spend forty years in those mountains.’ She gave a laugh.
‘So, we’ll spend forty years there,’ Nikolai Vsevolodovich said, frowning heavily.
‘Hmmm. I won’t go there for anything.’
‘Not even with me?’
‘Who are you that I should go there with you? Forty years sitting with him on top of a mountain—what a life! How very patient people have all become nowadays! No, a falcon can’t have turned into an owl. My prince isn’t like that!’ she said proudly and triumphantly lifting her head.
An idea seemed to dawn upon him.
‘Why do you call me “Prince” and… whom do you take me for?’ he asked her hurriedly.
‘What? Aren’t you a prince?’
‘I’ve never been one.’
‘So then, you yourself admit, right to my face, you’re not a prince!’
‘I tell you I never was.’
‘Good Lord!’ she cried, clasping her hands. ‘I expected anything from his enemies, but such insolence—never! Is he still alive?’ she cried in a frenzy, turning on Nikolai Vsevolodovich. ‘Have you killed him or not? Confess!’
‘Whom do you take me for?’ he cried, jumping up from his place, his face distorted. But it was no longer easy to frighten her. She said triumphantly:
‘Who knows who you are and where you’ve come from! Only my heart, during these last five years, only my heart’s been aware of the whole intrigue! I’ve been sitting here wondering, what kind of blind owl is this who’s calling on me? No, my dear, you’re a bad actor, even worse than Lebyadkin. Give my regards to the countess and tell her to send a better man than you. Tell me, did she hire you? Has she let you work in her kitchen out of charity? I can see p. 294↵right through your whole deception. I understand all of you, to the last man!’
He took firm hold of her arm just above the elbow; she laughed in his face:
‘You look like him, very much like him; perhaps you’re related to him—what a cunning lot! But my fellow is a bright falcon and a prince, while you’re an owl and a shopkeeper! My man will bow down to God if he wants to and if he doesn’t want to he won’t, while Shatushka (he’s my dear, sweet, darling!), slapped you across the face, so my Lebyadkin told me. And what were you so afraid of when you came in? Who was it who made you so scared then? When I saw your nasty face after I fell and you picked me up—it was as if a worm had crawled into my heart: it’s not he, I thought, not he! My falcon would never have been ashamed of me in front of any society lady! Good Lord! The only thing that’s kept me happy the last five years was the thought that my falcon was alive somewhere, beyond the mountains, soaring, gazing at the sun… Tell me, you impostor, how much are you getting for it? Was it for a great deal of money you agreed to do it? I wouldn’t have given you half a kopeck. Ha, ha, ha!, Ha, ha, ha!’
‘Oh, what an idiot!’ Nikolai Vsevolodovich said, gnashing his teeth, still keeping firm hold of her arm.
‘Go away, you impostor!’ she cried imperiously. ‘I’m my prince’s wife. I’m not afraid of your knife!’
‘My knife?’
‘Yes, your knife! You have a knife in your pocket. You thought I was asleep, but I saw it: when you came in just now you took out your knife!’
‘What are you talking about, you wretched creature? What kind of dreams are you having?’ he cried and pushed her away from him with such force that she banged her shoulder and head against the sofa. He rushed out of the room, but she ran after him, limping and hopping, trying to catch up with him, and from the staircase, although the frightened Lebyadkin was restraining her with all his might, she managed to shout after him into the darkness, shrieking and laughing:
‘Grisha O-tre-piev—a-na-the-ma on you!’
p. 2954
‘A knife, a knife!’ he repeated in unquenchable rage, striding through mud and puddles, making no attempt to find the road. It’s true that now and then he felt terribly like laughing, loudly and insanely; but for some reason he controlled himself and restrained his laughter. He came to his senses only on the bridge, on the very spot where he’d met Fedka earlier; the same Fedka was still there waiting for him now, and, upon seeing him, doffed his cap, grinned cheerfully, and began chattering boldly and merrily about something or other. At first Nikolai Vsevolodovich went on without stopping, for some time not even listening to this tramp who’d latched on to him again. He was suddenly struck by the thought that he’d forgotten all about him, forgotten him precisely as he was muttering under his breath, ‘A knife, a knife.’ He seized the tramp by the collar and, with all the force of his pent-up rage, hurled him against the bridge. For a moment Fedka thought of fighting back, but realizing almost at once that compared to his adversary, who had moreover caught him unawares, he was no more than a wisp of straw, he calmed down and fell silent, without resisting in the least. On his knees, pinned to the ground, his elbows twisted behind his back, the sly tramp serenely waited to see what would happen next, apparently without the least sense of danger.
He was right. With his left hand Nikolai Vsevolodovich had already removed his thick scarf to bind the prisoner’s hands; but for some reason he suddenly released him and pushed him away. Fedka jumped to his feet at once, turned around, and a short, broad cobbler’s knife, which seemed to appear from nowhere, gleamed in his hand.
‘Away with that knife, put it away, put it away at once!’ Nikolai Vsevolodovich commanded him with an impatient gesture, and the knife disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.
Nikolai Vsevolodovich resumed his way in silence, without turning round; but the persistent scoundrel kept after him, though, it’s true, no longer chattering; he’d even dropped back one whole pace to maintain a respectful distance. They p. 296↵both crossed the bridge over to the other bank, this time turning to the left, and into a long, deserted lane that was a shorter route to the centre of town than the previous way along Bogoyavlenskaya Street.
‘Is it true what they say, that you robbed a church somewhere in this district just the other day?’ Nikolai Vsevolodovich asked suddenly.
‘Well, I mean like, I first dropped in to say a few prayers, sir,’ the tramp replied gravely and politely, as if nothing untoward had happened; his manner was not so much grave as almost dignified. There wasn’t the least trace of his earlier ‘friendly’ familiarity. Here obviously was a serious and businesslike man, one who’d been gratuitously insulted, but who was capable of overlooking such insults.
‘And when the good Lord led me there’, he continued, ‘I thought to myself, hey, what heavenly abundance! It all came about because of my helpless poverty, since the way we live, there’s no way to get along without a little help from somewhere. And so, as God’s my witness, sir, it was a total loss for me. The Lord punished me for my sins: for the censer, the pyx, and the deacon’s strap I got all of twelve roubles. And for the chin-setting of St Nikolai, pure silver though it was, I got almost nothing: they said it was a fake.’
‘Did you slit the watchman’s throat?’
‘Well, the watchman and I worked together to clean the place out, but later, the next morning, by the river, we had a little argument about who was going to carry the sack. There I did sin and lightened his load.’
‘Go on killing, go on stealing.’
‘That’s just like what Peter Stepanovich advised me, the same thing, word for word, because he’s ever so stingy and hard-hearted when it comes to helping out his fellow man, sir. Besides, he don’t give a damn about the heavenly Creator what made us all out of earthly clay; he says it was nature alone what made us all, even down to the last of the beasts; and then, he don’t understand that, our life being what it is, we can’t possibly get along without some charitable assistance, sir. You try to tell him and he looks like a sheep staring at the water; you can’t help but wonder. Now, p. 297↵believe me, sir, that Captain Lebyadkin, sir, where you just paid a visit, sir, when he was still living at Filippov’s house, sir, once when the door stood wide open the whole night, sir, he lay asleep, dead drunk, with money spilling out of his pockets all over the floor. I got to see it with my own eyes, because, the way we live, we can’t get along without some assistance, sir…’
‘With your own eyes? Did you go there at night, or what?’
‘Maybe I did, but nobody knows about it.’
‘Why didn’t you slit his throat?’
‘I made some calculations, sir, and steadied myself. Once I made sure I could always steal a hundred and fifty roubles, why should I do a thing like that, when I could wait a bit, and pick up fifteen hundred roubles? Because Captain Lebyadkin (I heard it with my own ears, sir) has always relied on you, sir, when he was drunk, and there’s not one drinking place around here, not even the lowest tavern, sir, where he ain’t boasted about it when he was in that state, sir. So, having heard it said by lots of different people, I too decided to put all my hopes in your excellency. I’m speaking to you, sir, like you was my own father, my own brother, because Peter Stepanovich will never find out about it from me, nor will any other living soul. So, your excellency, will you let me have three roubles or not, sir? You might put my mind at ease, sir, so I’d know the real truth, like, because we can’t get along without some assistance, sir.’
Nikolai Vsevolodovich laughed out loud; taking out his wallet, in which there were about fifty roubles in small bills, he tossed him one bill from a bundle, then another, a third, and a fourth. Fedka tried to catch them in mid-air, flinging himself forward, but the bills fluttered down into the mud. Fedka grabbed them and shouted, ‘Oy, oy!’ Finally Nikolai Vsevolodovich threw the whole bundle at him and walked on down the alley still laughing, this time alone. The tramp remained behind to hunt for the money, crawling around on his knees in the mud to retrieve the bills that were blowing away in the wind or sinking into puddles, and for an hour afterwards one could still hear through the darkness his fitful cries of, ‘Oy, oy!’