Humiliated and Insulted

by Fyodor Dostoevsky

  He was very charming, extraordinarily affectionate with Natasha and even cheered up on my arrival. Though Natasha tried to put a brave face on it, it was clear this was an effort for her. Her face looked pale and wan. She had clearly had a bad night’s sleep. She appeared to be going out of her way to be nice to Alyosha.

  Though Alyosha himself talked a great deal and had lots to say in an effort to cheer her up and bring a smile to her face, her lips remained involuntarily pursed in sadness, and he steered clear of mentioning either Katya or his father. Apparently his attempt at reconciliation the previous day had not come off.

  “Do you know what? He’s dying to get away from me now,” Natasha whispered hurriedly when he had gone out briefly to say something to Mavra, “but he hasn’t got the courage. I too can’t bring myself to tell him to go, else he’ll very likely stay in spite of himself, but the thing I’m afraid of most of all is that he’ll get bored and turn completely cold towards me! What am I to do?”

  “My God, you have got yourselves into a mess! And how mistrustful you both are; neither of you misses a thing the other one does! Why don’t you just have it out with him and be done with it! As things stand, he’s more than ever liable to get bored.”

  “So what’s to be done?” she exclaimed in a panic.

  “Wait, leave it to me…” and I went into the kitchen on the pretext of asking Mavra to give one of my galoshes that had some mud on it a good wipe.

  “Be careful, Vanya!” she called after me.

  No sooner had I entered than Alyosha simply rushed towards me, as though he had been expecting me.

  “Ivan Petrovich, my friend, what am I to do? Help me. I promised Katya yesterday to be at her place today, as a matter of fact – now. I can’t possibly let her down! I love Natasha to distraction, I’d do anything for her, but you must agree it wouldn’t do to turn my back on everything there—”

  “What’s the problem, just go…”

  “What about Natasha? She’ll be hurt, don’t you think! Do something, Ivan Petrovich!”

  “In my opinion, just go. You know how much she loves you. She won’t be able to help thinking how bored you are with her and that you’re simply forcing yourself to stay with her. Think nothing of it – that’s the best policy. I tell you what, come with me, I’ll help you.”

  “That’s really nice of you, Ivan Petrovich! You’re so kind!”

  We entered. A short while later I said to him, “You know, I’ve just seen your father.”

  “Where?” he exclaimed in a panic.

  “In the street, quite by chance. He stopped for a minute, and again suggested the two of us should meet. He enquired after you and asked if I knew where you were. He was dying to see you, to tell you something.”

  “Oh, Alyosha, why don’t you go and show yourself to him,” Natasha joined in, catching my drift.

  “But… where shall I find him now? Is he at home?”

  “No, I seem to remember he said he’d be at the Countess’s.”

  “So what shall I do then?…” Alyosha asked naively, looking at Natasha despondently.

  “Come, come, Alyosha!” she said. “Do you really want to break off that relationship just to put my mind at rest? That’s childish, if you ask me. First, it can’t be done, and secondly, it would be the height of churlishness towards Katya. You’re friends, and you can’t just cut all ties so rudely. In fact, you offend me by supposing that I might be jealous. Go, go immediately, I beg you! It’ll put your father’s mind at rest too.”

  “Natasha, you’re an angel, and I’m not worth your little finger!” Alyosha exclaimed with excitement and contrition. “You’re so kind, whereas I… I… well, I might as well tell you! I had just asked Ivan Petrovich there in the kitchen to help me get away from you. It was his idea really. But don’t be too hard on me, my angel Natasha! I’m not altogether to blame, because I love you a thousand times more than anything else in the whole world and that’s why I had a new thought – to confide in Katya completely and tell her everything how things stand between us, and everything that happened yesterday. She’s bound to think of something to get us back on an even keel; she’s devoted to us heart and soul—”

  “Well, off you go then,” Natasha replied, smiling, “and there’s one other thing, my dearest: I’d like to meet Katya myself. I wonder how that could be arranged?”

  Alyosha’s excitement knew no bounds. He immediately launched into surmises of how that could be done. In his opinion it would be very simple – Katya would see to it. He enlarged upon his plan with enthusiasm and ardour. He promised to be back with an answer that same day, within a couple of hours, and to spend the rest of the evening with Natasha.

  “Are you really going to come?” Natasha asked, seeing him off.

  “Don’t you trust me? Bye Natasha, goodbye, my beloved – my beloved for ever more! Goodbye, Vanya. Oh, goodness, I called you Vanya inadvertently. Listen, Ivan Petrovich, I’m so fond of you – why aren’t we on first-name terms? Let’s be on first names!”

  “Let’s.”

  “Thank God! I thought of it a hundred times if I thought of it once. But I just couldn’t bring myself to say it. It’s not so easy. I think Tolstoy depicts it really well somewhere – there are these two characters who want to be on first-name terms and neither dares to be the first. Oh, Natasha! Let’s read Childhood and Youth* again some time – it’s such a treat!”

  “Be off with you now, go on,” Natasha urged him on, laughing. “You’re talking too much in your excitement…”

  “Bye! I’ll be back with you in two hours!”

  He kissed her hand and hurried out.

  “Did you see, did you see that, Vanya?” she said and burst into tears.

  I stayed with her for about two hours and managed to put her mind at rest. Of course she was perfectly right in all her apprehensions. My heart ached with anxiety when I thought of her present situation. I was afraid for her. But what was to be done?

  I could not fathom out Alyosha either – his love for her was undiminished, perhaps it was even stronger than previously, more intense, more arduous in its remorse and sense of gratitude. But at the same time his new passion was taking deep root in his heart. How that would end it was impossible to predict. I myself was most curious to meet Katya. I again promised Natasha I would get to know her.

  Towards the end she even managed to cheer up a little. Amongst other things, I told her everything about Nelly, about Masloboyev, about Bubnova, about today’s meeting with the Prince at Masloboyev’s and about the appointed meeting at seven. She found all this quite fascinating. As for her parents, I tried to be brief, and for the present made no mention of her father’s visit to me at all; Nikolai Sergeich’s proposed duel with the Prince would more than likely have scared her to death. She too thought it very strange that Masloboyev and the Prince were involved in something together and that the latter should be so eager to see me, although it could all be accounted for in the light of the present circumstances…

  I returned home at about three to be greeted by Nelly’s radiant face…

  6

  At seven o’clock sharp that evening I was at Masloboyev’s. He met me with loud cheers and open arms. Needless to say he was in his cups. But what surprised me most of all were the extraordinary preparations for my visit. It was clear that I was expected. A pretty tombac samovar stood boiling away on a little round table covered with a beautiful expensive tablecloth. The tea service glittered with crystal, silver and porcelain. On another table, covered with a different but no less expensive tablecloth, stood bowls of sweets, mouth-watering Kiev candied fruits and preserves, jam, pastilles, jelly, French confitures, oranges, apples and three or four different kinds of nuts – in a word, a veritable sweet shop. On a third table covered with a snow-white tablecloth were the most sumptuous zakuski – caviar, cheese, pâté, cured sausages, a joint of smok
ed ham, fish – and a range of exquisite crystal decanters with different types of vodka infusions in a variety of attractive colours – green, ruby, tawny and golden. Finally, on a little side table, also covered with a white tablecloth, stood two ice buckets with bottles of champagne, while on a table in front of the couch were three more bottles on show – Sauternes, Lafitte and a bottle of excellent brandy, all from Yeliseyev’s and costing the earth. At the tea table sat Alexandra Semyonovna, and though dressed plainly and without frills, it was with the utmost care and in exquisite good taste. She was well aware what suited her and took full pride in this; as I entered, she got up with some ceremony to greet me. Her fresh complexion radiated cheerful gratification. Masloboyev wore a pair of splendid Chinese slippers, a magnificent dressing gown and a freshly laundered elegant shirt, which was adorned all over with fashionable studs and tassels. His hair was combed flat, pomaded and with a slanted parting, according to the latest fashion.

  I was so astonished that I stopped in the middle of the room, staring open-mouthed now at Masloboyev, now at Alexandra Semyonovna, who was bursting with contentment bordering on bliss.

  “What’s all this, Masloboyev?” I finally exclaimed in surprise. “Are you having a grand party tonight?”

  “No, just you,” he replied with a flourish.

  “But look, this is enough to feed an army,” I said, pointing at all the comestibles.

  “And to get it drunk – you’ve forgotten the main thing – to get it drunk!” Masloboyev added.

  “And all this just for me?”

  “And for Alexandra Semyonovna. It was all her grand idea.”

  “There you go again! I should have known!” Alexandra Semyonovna exclaimed, blushing, but her look of contentment remaining undi­minished. “Can’t even entertain a visitor properly – I’m immediately to blame!”

  “Since early morning, can you imagine, since early in the morning, the minute she found out you were coming tonight, she started fussing. You should have seen her—”

  “Again not true! Not at all since morning, more like since yesterday evening. As soon as you came in last night, you said to me, the gentleman’s coming to visit us for the whole evening—”

  “You misheard me, Madam.”

  “Didn’t mishear you at all, it’s the honest truth. I never lie. And why not give a guest a treat? There we are the two of us, but no one ever comes to see us, and it’s not as if we’re short of anything. It’s only right and proper people should see we can put on as good a show as anybody.”

  “And, what’s more to the point, find out what an excellent housewife and hostess you are,” Masloboyev added. “And ask yourself, my dear chap, why should I, why should I have been made to suffer! This fancy linen shirt she’s crammed me into, studs all over the place, shoes, Chinese dressing gown, the way she’s done and oiled my hair – bergamot, yes sir! Wanted to sprinkle me with some kind of perfume – crème brûlée or what not, well that’s where I dug my heels in, and asserted my conjugal authority—”

  “Wasn’t bergamot at all, but the best French pomatum there is – comes in a little decorated porcelain jar!” Alexandra Semyonovna interjected, all flushed. “What can I do, Ivan Petrovich, he won’t ever take me to the theatre, or dancing, or anywhere – just brings me dresses, and what’s the good of dresses? All I can do is put one on and walk around the room by myself. The other day I thought I’d talked him round and we were just about ready to go to the theatre. I merely turned my back on him to fasten a brooch and he’s already at the drinks cabinet – one, two down the hatch, and before I knew it he was legless. Didn’t go anywhere after that. Nobody, but nobody, nobody at all ever comes to see us. Only in the mornings people sometimes turn up on business, and I’m not wanted then. And yet we’ve samovars, and a tea service, nice drinking cups too – the lot, all gifts. They bring food along too; wine’s about the only thing we buy, and pomade maybe… well, some food too. Actually the pâté, ham and sweets we bought for you ourselves… If only people would come and see how we live! I spent a whole year thinking – wait till a visitor calls, a proper guest, we’ll show him the whole works and lay on a feast for him. That way we’d all have fun. But what’s the good doing that fool’s hair, he’s not worth it. He loves walking around like a tramp. Look at that dressing gown he’s got on, a gift too, but completely wasted on him! All he thinks of is getting sloshed before he does anything else. Mark my words, he’ll be treating you to vodka before he offers tea.”

  “I say, what a good idea, Vanya! A gold one and a silver one first, and then, suitably oiled, we can get down to sampling the rest.”

  “Just as I thought!”

  “Not to worry, my angel, there’ll be plenty of time for tea… to wash down the brandy, to your health!”

  “There we go!” she exclaimed, throwing up her hands. “Best China tea, six roubles a go, a dealer brought it the other day, and he wants to drink it with brandy. Don’t listen to him, Ivan Petrovich, I’ll pour you a glass in a moment… you’ll see for yourself what the tea’s like!”

  And she began to fuss over the samovar.

  It was clear the object of the exercise was to detain me for the whole evening. Alexandra Semyonovna, who had been waiting a whole year for a visitor, now wanted to get her fill of me. This was not at all what I had in mind.

  “Listen, Masloboyev,” I said, taking a seat, “I haven’t come on a social call at all. I’ve come on business. You yourself asked me to come because you had something to tell me—”

  “Business is business, but a friendly chat is something else again.”

  “No, old friend, count me out. Half-past eight and – bye-bye. I’ve got an appointment. I promised—”

  “Out of the question. You can’t do that to me! Look what you’re doing to Alexandra Semyonovna! Take a look at her – she’s going to faint. What was the point of oiling my hair then? I’ve essence of bergamot on me – don’t forget that!”

  “You’re turning it into a joke, Masloboyev. Alexandra Semyonovna, I swear to you that next week, Friday if you like, I’ll come to you for dinner. As for now, old chap, I’ve promised or, to put it another way, I simply have to be somewhere else. Why don’t you just tell me what it is you wanted to say to me?”

  “Are you really staying only till half-past eight!” Alexandra Semyonovna exclaimed in a meek and plaintive voice and almost in tears, as she passed me a cup of excellent tea.

  “Don’t worry, darling, this is all rubbish!” Masloboyev interjected. “He’s staying. It’s utter rubbish. And how about if you told me, Vanya, where it is you keep going? What business could you be plying, if I may be so bold as to ask? You’re off somewhere every day, and don’t get any work done—”

  “Why do you want to know? On second thoughts, I might very well tell you later. But I’d much rather if you explained why it is you called on me yesterday, after I told you myself, remember, that I was going to be out?

  “I remembered later, but yesterday I’d forgotten all about it. There was something I wanted to talk over with you, but the main thing was to butter up my Alexandra Semyonovna. ‘There,’ she says, ‘you’ve found yourself a decent person, a friend, so why not invite him round?’ And I’d already had an earful of this these past four days. This essence of bergamot, of course, will be enough to expiate forty of my sins in the next world, but that apart, I thought to myself, why not spend a pleasant evening with a pal? So I devised this stratagem – I left you a note to the effect that unless you came to see me, all our plans would go up in smoke.”

  I asked him not to do this sort of thing in future, but to inform me of his intentions frankly. That said, his explanation left me somewhat unconvinced.

  “Well, and why then did you run away from me the other day?”

  “The other day I really had an important appointment, and that’s telling you the honest truth.”

  “It wo
uldn’t have been with the Prince, would it?”

  “What do you think of our tea?” Alexandra Semyonovna asked in a honeyed voice.

  She had been waiting a full five minutes for me to commend her tea, and I just had not twigged.

  “Excellent, Alexandra Semyonovna, absolutely delicious! I’ve never tasted anything like it.”

  Alexandra Semyonovna’s face simply beamed with pleasure, and she rushed to pour me some more.

  “The Prince!” Masloboyev exclaimed. “This Prince, my old chap, is a nasty piece of work, a real con man… well! I tell you this much, my dear fellow, even though I’m a con man myself, I swear out of common decency I wouldn’t do the things he gets up to! But enough! Mum’s the word! That’s all I’m going to say about him.”

  “And he’s the very man I came to question you about amongst other things. But of that later. Tell me though, why did you give my Yelena sweets yesterday in my absence and cavort in front of her? And what could you have been talking about with her for an hour and a half!”

  “Yelena’s a little girl, about eleven or twelve, lives with Ivan Petrovich temporarily,” Masloboyev explained, suddenly turning to Alexandra Semyonovna. “Look, Vanya, look,” he continued, pointing his finger at her, “the way she just flushed when she heard I gave bonbons to some girl; she’s gone all red and started as though we’d fired a gun… look at those eyes blazing like hot charcoal. Jealousy will get you nowhere, Alexandra Semyonovna! My word, aren’t we jealous! If I hadn’t made it clear that it was an eleven-year-old, she’d have had me by the short hairs, bergamot or no bergamot!”

  “You said it!”

  With these words Alexandra Semyonovna fairly bounded from behind the tea table, and before Masloboyev had a chance to shield his head, she had grabbed a tuft of his hair and tugged it with all her might.

  “That’ll teach you, that’ll teach you! Don’t you dare say in front of guests that I’m jealous, never, never, never!”