Humiliated and Insulted

by Fyodor Dostoevsky

  “Don’t be like that!” She paused to think. “It’s nothing – let’s talk about what really matters. Help me, Ivan Petrovich – you see, I feel now I’m Natasha’s rival. I know I am, so what am I to do? That’s precisely why I asked you if they would be happy. I think about it day and night. Natasha’s situation is awful, simply awful! You see, he’s stopped loving her altogether, whereas he loves me more and more. Isn’t that so?”

  “I suppose it is.”

  “And it’s not that he’s deceiving her. He doesn’t know himself he’s falling out of love with her, but she surely does. What must she be going through!”

  “So what do you want to do, Katerina Fyodorovna?”

  “I’ve lots of plans,” she replied thoughtfully, “yet I’m utterly confused. It’s for this reason that I was looking forward so much for you to come and sort out everything. You know it all much better than I. You’re like some kind of a god to me now. Listen, at first I argued like this: if they love each other, they need to be happy, and therefore it’s up to me to make a sacrifice and help them. Wouldn’t you say so?”

  “I know you have sacrificed yourself already.”

  “Yes, I have, and therefore when he began coming to see me and falling in love with me more and more, I started having my doubts and thinking to myself, should I sacrifice myself or not? That is very bad, isn’t it?”

  “It’s only natural,” I replied, “that’s how it should be… and you’re not to blame.”

  “I don’t think so. You’re only saying so because you’re so kind. The way I see it is like this: my heart is not altogether pure. If it were, I’d have known what to do. But let that be! Later I got to know more about their relationship from the Prince, from Mama, from Alyosha himself, and I realized that they’re not a match. You’ve confirmed it now. That made me think even more – what’s to be done now? If they’re going to be unhappy, surely it would be best for them to part, and so I decided to question you about it all thoroughly, and then go to see Natasha myself to settle the matter with her once and for all.”

  “To settle the matter, but how, that’s the question?”

  “I’ll just say to her, ‘You love him more than anything, therefore you should love his happiness more than anything; consequently you ought to part from him.’”

  “Yes, but how do you expect her to take it? And if she agreed with you, would she have the strength to do it?”

  “That’s just what I’ve been thinking about day and night and… and…” And she suddenly burst into tears.

  “You won’t believe me how sorry I am for Natasha,” she whispered, her lips quivering amid tears.

  There was nothing to add. I looked at her in silence and was on the brink of tears myself, overcome as I was by something akin to love. What a sweet child she was! I did not inquire why she thought herself capable of constituting Alyosha’s happiness.

  “You do like music, don’t you?” she asked, after she had calmed down a little, but still under the effect of her tears.

  “I do,” I replied, somewhat surprised.

  “If there had been time, I’d have played you Beethoven’s Third Piano Concerto. I’m rehearsing it now. It has all the emotions… that I’m experiencing now. That’s how it seems to me. But of that another time – now we must talk.”

  We began discussing how she was to see Natasha and how to arrange a meeting. She told me that she was under surveillance, and though her stepmother was kind and loved her, she would never allow her to make friends with Natalya Nikolayevna, which is why she had decided to resort to subterfuge. Of a morning she sometimes would go riding, almost invariably with the Countess. Occasionally, however, the Countess would have a headache and not accompany her, but let her go with a French lady chaperone, who happened to be ill herself at present. Therefore one only had to wait for one of the Countess’s headaches to come on. In the meantime she’d talk nicely to this chaperone of hers, who is a very sweet old lady. But as a result it was just not possible to fix in advance a particular day for visiting Natasha.

  “You’ll get to know Natasha and there’ll be no need to blame yourself,” I said. “She’s very anxious to get to know you herself, if only to see whom it is she’s surrendering Alyosha to. Don’t let it all get you down too much though. Time will see everything right, no matter what. You’re going to the country, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, quite soon, perhaps in a month’s time,” she replied, “and I know the Prince insists on it.”

  “Do you think Alyosha will go with you?”

  “I was wondering about that!” she said, looking at me intently. “I suppose he will.”

  “There you are.”

  “My God, what will come of all this – I really don’t know. Listen, Ivan Petrovich, I’ll write to you about everything. I’ll write often and at length. You’ll have no peace from me now. Are you going to come to see us often?”

  “I don’t know, Katerina Fyodorovna – it depends on circumstances. Perhaps I shan’t come at all.”

  “Why is that?”

  “It’ll depend on various things, but mainly on my relationship with the Prince.”

  “I don’t trust him,” Katya said resolutely. “Listen, Ivan Petrovich, how about if I were to come to see you! Would that be good or not?”

  “What do you think yourself?”

  “I think, it would be good. I’d just pay you a visit…” she added, smiling. “I’m saying this because quite apart from respecting you, I like you very much… And I could learn from you a great deal. I like you… I ought to be ashamed for telling you all this, oughtn’t I?”

  “What’s there to be ashamed of? You’re very dear to me already, as a sister.”

  “You do want to be my friend?”

  “Oh yes, of course!” I replied.

  “Well, but they’d surely say it isn’t the done thing, and a young girl ought not to behave like that,” she remarked, motioning again at the group round the tea table. I will point out here that it appeared the Prince had deliberately left us alone to talk our hearts out.

  “It’s quite clear to me,” she added, “the Prince is after my money. They think of me as a complete child, and will say as much openly to me. I don’t think I am though. I’m no longer a child. They are odd – they’re just like children themselves. Why are they so bothered, I wonder?”

  “Katerina Fyodorovna, I forgot to ask, who are Levenka and Borenka, whom Alyosha calls on so often?”

  “They’re distant relations of mine. They’re very clever and honest, but they do talk a lot… I know them…” and she smiled.

  “Is it true you want to give them a million roubles eventually?”

  “There you are, this is what I mean, they will go on about that million! I can’t stand it! Of course I’d be only too glad to support any worthy cause – what would I need such a huge sum of money for, I ask you? But the point is I’m still not at all sure when I’ll give it, whereas they’re already sharing it out, conferring, shouting, arguing how best to spend it, even squabbling over it – which seems very odd. They’re too eager. Nevertheless they’re very sincere and… clever. They study. Which is better than how some other people carry on. Wouldn’t you say?”

  We went on talking like this for a long time yet. She told me nearly her whole life story and listened avidly to what I had to say. She insisted I speak mostly about Natasha and Alyosha. It was already twelve o’clock when the Prince came up and informed me that it was time for us to take our leave. I said goodbye. Katya shook my hand warmly and looked at me significantly. The Countess invited me to call on them again; the Prince and I left together.

  I cannot help making a strange and perhaps totally irrelevant observation. During the course of my three-hour long conversation with Katya, I came, amongst other things, to the odd but nevertheless firm conviction that in her childishness she was not eve
n aware of the facts of life. This could not but lend an extraordinarily comic touch to some of her arguments and to the overall serious tone with which she discussed a great number of very important matters…

  10

  “I tell you what,” the prince said, getting into the calash with me, “why don’t we go and have supper, eh? What do you say?”

  “I really don’t know, Prince,” I replied, hesitating, “I never have supper…”

  “Well, we could have our talk over supper,” he added, looking straight at me with a sly glint in his eye.

  It was obvious what he was after! “He’s dying to talk to me,” I thought, “and that suits me down to the ground.” I agreed.

  “That’s settled then. To Borel’s on Bolshaya Morskaya.”

  “To a restaurant?” I asked, somewhat perplexed.

  “Yes. What’s wrong? I seldom have supper at home. Surely you’ll accept my invitation?”

  “But I told you already, I never have supper.”

  “Just this once won’t hurt. Besides, you are my guest…”

  Meaning, I’ll pay for you. I was sure he added this deliberately. I allowed him to take me, but at the restaurant I decided to pay for myself. We arrived. The Prince took a private room, and with taste and discernment chose two or three dishes from the menu. They were expensive, as was the bottle of a fine table wine that he ordered. It was all more than I could afford. I looked at the menu and ordered half a hazel hen and a glass of Lafitte. The Prince protested.

  “So you won’t have supper with me, but this is just ridiculous! Pardon, mon ami,* but you’re… this is fastidiousness of the worst possible kind. Shallow, overweening pride. This is inverted class snobbery, if you ask me. I don’t mind telling you – I’m offended.”

  But I stuck to my guns.

  “As you please,” he added. “I’m not forcing you… tell me, Ivan Petrovich, do you think we could have a perfectly friendly dis­cussion?”

  “I’d insist on nothing less.”

  “Well then, stand-offishness like this will be your own undoing, as has already been the case with all those of your ilk. You’re a man of letters, you need to know the world, and yet you shy away from everything. I’m not talking of hazel hens now, but you seem bent on cutting all ties with our circle, which augurs nothing good. Quite apart from the fact that you stand to lose a great deal – well, in a word, damage your career prospects – you really ought to know at first hand what it is you’re writing about in your novels, which feature dukes and princes and boudoirs… it’s my world, damnit! But all you care to go on about is destitution, lost overcoats, government inspectors, hot-tempered army officers, clerks, tales of yesteryear and religious dissent – I know it all too well?”

  “But you’re mistaken, Prince. If I don’t move in your so-called ‘high society’, it’s because firstly, it bores me, and secondly, because there’s nothing it can offer me! As a matter of fact, however, I do go to…”

  “I know, to Prince R.’s, once in a blue moon. To be sure, that’s where I met you. But for the rest of the time you and your lot simply puff yourselves up with democratic pride as you languish in your garrets, though this doesn’t apply to all of your ilk of course. Still, one does come across the odd hothead who’d turn even my stomach…”

  “I would beg you, Prince, to change the subject and not concern yourself with us and our garrets.”

  “Dear me, how sensitive you are! But then you did give me leave to speak with you as a friend. I beg your pardon though, I’ve done nothing yet to deserve your friendship. The wine’s not bad. Try some.”

  He poured me half a glass from his bottle.

  “You see, my dear Ivan Petrovich, I’m fully aware that it’s not the done thing to foist one’s friendship upon anyone. After all, we’re not all as uncouth and arrogant towards you as you like to portray us. Besides, I understand perfectly well too it’s not out of predilection for me that you’re sitting here now, rather because I promised to have a talk with you. Is that not so?”

  He burst out laughing.

  “And since you’re looking after the interests of a certain person, you’re eager to hear what I have to say. Am I right?” he added with a sinister smile.

  “You are quite right,” I interrupted brusquely. I could see he was one of those who, on seeing someone the least bit under his influence, would immediately take advantage of the fact. I certainly was under his influence; I could not leave without hearing all he intended to say, and he knew that very well. His tone of voice suddenly changed, inclining more and more towards the arrogantly familiar and taunting. “You’re quite right, Prince. That’s precisely why I came, otherwise, take my word for it, I wouldn’t have agreed to sit here… at this hour.”

  I would have liked to say “otherwise I’d never have agreed to come with you in the first place”, but I did not, and said something else, not out of fear, but out of that confounded weakness and reserve of mine. Indeed, how could one be offensive to someone’s face, even though that person deserved it and I was bent on offending him! I fancied the Prince noticed this by the look in my eyes and he regarded me with derision, as though delighting in my faint-heartedness and challenging me with his gaze: “There now, you lost your nerve, you flinched – never mind, old chap!” This was surely the case, because after I finished, he roared with laughter and patted me on the knee with a kind of patronizing bonhomie.

  “You do make me laugh, young fellow,” I read in his eyes. “Steady on!” I thought to myself.

  “I’m in a very good mood today!” he exclaimed, “and I’m damned if I know why. Yes, yes, my friend, yes! That’s just the person I wanted to talk about. After all, we need to bring things out into the open, come to some kind of an understanding, and I hope that this time you’ll see my point entirely. Back then I started talking to you about the money and that old duffer of a father, that senile innocent… Well, who cares now! I wasn’t serious, really! Hahaha, let’s face it, you’re a writer, you should have guessed…”

  I watched him with consternation. I didn’t think he was quite drunk yet.

  “Well, as for that girl, frankly, I respect her, I even like her, I assure you. She’s a bit capricious but ‘what rose is without thorns?’ as they used to say in the olden days, and they were right – thorns are prickly, but that’s the attraction, and though my Alexei is a fool, I’ve already forgiven him in part – for his good taste. To cut a long story, I find these girls attractive, and I even have,” he pursed his lips with deliberation, “certain plans up my sleeve… But of that later—”

  “Prince! Please listen to me!” I exclaimed. “I don’t understand this sudden transformation in you, but… let’s change the subject, if you don’t mind!”

  “You’re getting excited again! Well… fine, fine! I just want to ask you this, my good friend – do you respect her a lot?”

  “That goes without saying,” I replied with unconcealed impatience.

  “And, well, you love her too, don’t you?” he continued, baring his teeth loathsomely and screwing up his eyes.

  “You’re forgetting yourself!” I exclaimed.

  “There, there! Calm down! I’m in a most amazing humour tonight. I’ve never felt so cheerful for ages. Let’s have some champagne! What say you, my poet?”

  “I shan’t drink any, I don’t feel like it!”

  “I won’t have it! You must definitely be my guest tonight. I feel on top of the world, and since I’m good-natured to the point of sentimentality, I can’t be happy on my own. Who knows, we may yet end up drinking to eternal friendship, hahaha! Yes, my young friend, you still don’t know me! I’m certain you’ll grow to like me. I want you to share my sorrow and happiness with me tonight, my joy and my tears, though I hope I won’t shed any. Well, how about it, Ivan Petrovich? You must realize above all that if things don’t turn out the way I want them to, all my good
will shall pass, vanish, dissipate, and you’ll not learn anything, whereas you came here solely in order to find out something. Tell me if I’m not right!” he added, winking at me brazenly again. “Well, the choice is yours.”

  The threat was real. I agreed. “He’s not trying to get me drunk by any chance, is he?” I thought to myself. Incidentally, it might be appropriate at this stage to mention a certain rumour about the Prince that had reached me some time ago. It was said that – correct and well got up though he always was in public – in private, of a night-time, he was wont to get blind drunk and secretly indulge in obscene debauchery, in clandestine, unspeakable debauchery… I had heard terrible rumours about him… People said Alyosha was aware that his father used to drink heavily at times, and that he tried to conceal it from everyone, especially Natasha. Once he nearly let the cat out of the bag in my presence, but dropped the subject immediately and would not respond to any of my questions. In fairness, it was not from him that I originally learnt about it, and I confess I refused to believe it at first; now I just waited to see what would happen next.

  Wine was served; the Prince filled two glasses, one for himself and one for me.

  “Sweet, precious girl, never mind the ticking off she gave me!” he continued, savouring the wine with relish. “But it’s precisely at mo­ments like that that these sweet things come into their own… And she probably thought she’d shown me up that night, you remember, that she’d made mincemeat of me! Hahaha! And how that blush becomes her! Are you a connoisseur of women? Sometimes a sudden blush goes well on a pale cheek, have you noticed? Good Heavens! You’re not getting angry with me again, are you?”

  “Yes, I am!” I exclaimed, no longer restraining myself. “And I don’t want you to talk about Natalya Nikolayevna now… not in that kind of tone anyway. I… I shan’t let you!”

  “Tut-tut! Well, as you wish, anything to please you, I’ll change the subject. I’m compliant and soft as putty, you know. Let’s talk about you. I like you, Ivan Petrovich, if only you knew how dearly, how sincerely concerned I am for you—”