The Idiot
Page 78
note in her hand, therefore she musthave known that I was sitting there. So why was she surprised? Ha, ha,ha!”
He pulled the note out and kissed it; then paused and reflected. “Howstrange it all is! how strange!” he muttered, melancholy enough now. Inmoments of great joy, he invariably felt a sensation of melancholy comeover him--he could not tell why.
He looked intently around him, and wondered why he had come here; he wasvery tired, so he approached the bench and sat down on it. Around himwas profound silence; the music in the Vauxhall was over. The parkseemed quite empty, though it was not, in reality, later than half-pasteleven. It was a quiet, warm, clear night--a real Petersburg night ofearly June; but in the dense avenue, where he was sitting, it was almostpitch dark.
If anyone had come up at this moment and told him that he was in love,passionately in love, he would have rejected the idea with astonishment,and, perhaps, with irritation. And if anyone had added that Aglaya’snote was a love-letter, and that it contained an appointment to alover’s rendezvous, he would have blushed with shame for the speaker,and, probably, have challenged him to a duel.
All this would have been perfectly sincere on his part. He had neverfor a moment entertained the idea of the possibility of this girl lovinghim, or even of such a thing as himself falling in love with her. Thepossibility of being loved himself, “a man like me,” as he put it, heranked among ridiculous suppositions. It appeared to him that it wassimply a joke on Aglaya’s part, if there really were anything in it atall; but that seemed to him quite natural. His preoccupation was causedby something different.
As to the few words which the general had let slip about Aglaya laughingat everybody, and at himself most of all--he entirely believed them. Hedid not feel the slightest sensation of offence; on the contrary, he wasquite certain that it was as it should be.
His whole thoughts were now as to next morning early; he would seeher; he would sit by her on that little green bench, and listen to howpistols were loaded, and look at her. He wanted nothing more.
The question as to what she might have to say of special interest tohimself occurred to him once or twice. He did not doubt, for a moment,that she really had some such subject of conversation in store, but sovery little interested in the matter was he that it did not strike himto wonder what it could be. The crunch of gravel on the path suddenlycaused him to raise his head.
A man, whose face it was difficult to see in the gloom, approached thebench, and sat down beside him. The prince peered into his face, andrecognized the livid features of Rogojin.
“I knew you’d be wandering about somewhere here. I didn’t have to lookfor you very long,” muttered the latter between his teeth.
It was the first time they had met since the encounter on the staircaseat the hotel.
Painfully surprised as he was at this sudden apparition of Rogojin,the prince, for some little while, was unable to collect his thoughts.Rogojin, evidently, saw and understood the impression he had made; andthough he seemed more or less confused at first, yet he began talkingwith what looked like assumed ease and freedom. However, the prince soonchanged his mind on this score, and thought that there was not only noaffectation of indifference, but that Rogojin was not even particularlyagitated. If there were a little apparent awkwardness, it was only inhis words and gestures. The man could not change his heart.
“How did you--find me here?” asked the prince for the sake of sayingsomething.
“Keller told me (I found him at your place) that you were in the park.‘Of course he is!’ I thought.”
“Why so?” asked the prince uneasily.
Rogojin smiled, but did not explain.
“I received your letter, Lef Nicolaievitch--what’s the good of allthat?--It’s no use, you know. I’ve come to you from _her_,--she bade metell you that she must see you, she has something to say to you. Shetold me to find you today.”
“I’ll come tomorrow. Now I’m going home--are you coming to my house?”
“Why should I? I’ve given you the message.--Goodbye!”
“Won’t you come?” asked the prince in a gentle voice.
“What an extraordinary man you are! I wonder at you!” Rogojin laughedsarcastically.
“Why do you hate me so?” asked the prince, sadly. “You know yourselfthat all you suspected is quite unfounded. I felt you were still angrywith me, though. Do you know why? Because you tried to kill me--that’swhy you can’t shake off your wrath against me. I tell you that I onlyremember the Parfen Rogojin with whom I exchanged crosses, and vowedbrotherhood. I wrote you this in yesterday’s letter, in order that youmight forget all that madness on your part, and that you might not feelcalled to talk about it when we met. Why do you avoid me? Why do youhold your hand back from me? I tell you again, I consider all that haspassed a delirium, an insane dream. I can understand all you did,and all you felt that day, as if it were myself. What you were thenimagining was not the case, and could never be the case. Why, then,should there be anger between us?”
“You don’t know what anger is!” laughed Rogojin, in reply to theprince’s heated words.
He had moved a pace or two away, and was hiding his hands behind him.
“No, it is impossible for me to come to your house again,” he addedslowly.
“Why? Do you hate me so much as all that?”
“I don’t love you, Lef Nicolaievitch, and, therefore, what would bethe use of my coming to see you? You are just like a child--you want aplaything, and it must be taken out and given you--and then you don’tknow how to work it. You are simply repeating all you said in yourletter, and what’s the use? Of course I believe every word you say, andI know perfectly well that you neither did or ever can deceive me inany way, and yet, I don’t love you. You write that you’ve forgotteneverything, and only remember your brother Parfen, with whom youexchanged crosses, and that you don’t remember anything about theRogojin who aimed a knife at your throat. What do you know about myfeelings, eh?” (Rogojin laughed disagreeably.) “Here you are holding outyour brotherly forgiveness to me for a thing that I have perhaps neverrepented of in the slightest degree. I did not think of it again allthat evening; all my thoughts were centred on something else--”
“Not think of it again? Of course you didn’t!” cried the prince. “And Idare swear that you came straight away down here to Pavlofsk to listento the music and dog her about in the crowd, and stare at her, just asyou did today. There’s nothing surprising in that! If you hadn’t been inthat condition of mind that you could think of nothing but one subject,you would, probably, never have raised your knife against me. I had apresentiment of what you would do, that day, ever since I saw you firstin the morning. Do you know yourself what you looked like? I knewyou would try to murder me even at the very moment when we exchangedcrosses. What did you take me to your mother for? Did you think to stayyour hand by doing so? Perhaps you did not put your thoughts into words,but you and I were thinking the same thing, or feeling the same thinglooming over us, at the same moment. What should you think of me now ifyou had not raised your knife to me--the knife which God averted from mythroat? I would have been guilty of suspecting you all the same--and youwould have intended the murder all the same; therefore we should havebeen mutually guilty in any case. Come, don’t frown; you needn’t laughat me, either. You say you haven’t ‘repented.’ Repented! You probablycouldn’t, if you were to try; you dislike me too much for that. Why,if I were an angel of light, and as innocent before you as a babe, youwould still loathe me if you believed that _she_ loved me, instead ofloving yourself. That’s jealousy--that is the real jealousy.
“But do you know what I have been thinking out during this last week,Parfen? I’ll tell you. What if she loves you now better than anyone? Andwhat if she torments you _because_ she loves you, and in proportion to herlove for you, so she torments you the more? She won’t tell you this, ofcourse; you must have eyes to see. Why do you suppose she consents tomarry you? She must have a reason, and that reason she will tell
yousome day. Some women desire the kind of love you give her, and she isprobably one of these. Your love and your wild nature impress her. Doyou know that a woman is capable of driving a man crazy almost, withher cruelties and mockeries, and feels not one single pang of regret,because she looks at him and says to herself, ‘There! I’ll torment thisman nearly into his grave, and then, oh! how I’ll compensate him for itall with my love!’”
Rogojin listened to the end, and then burst out laughing:
“Why, prince, I declare you must have had a taste of this sort of thingyourself--haven’t you? I have heard tell of something of the kind, youknow; is it true?”
“What? What can you have heard?” said the prince, stammering.
Rogojin continued to laugh loudly. He had listened to the prince’sspeech with curiosity and some satisfaction. The speaker’s impulsivewarmth had surprised and even comforted him.
“Why, I’ve not only heard of it; I see it for myself,” he said. “Whenhave you ever spoken like that before? It wasn’t like yourself, prince.Why, if I hadn’t heard this