Complete Works of Fyodor Dostoyevsky

by Fyodor Dostoyevsky

  “Oh, Foma, I have been thinking of nothing but that all the time; even now while I have been talking to you I have been thinking of it. I am ready to implore her on my knees till dawn. But only think, Foma, what they are expecting of me.

  Why, you know it’s unjust, Foma, it’s cruel. Be entirely magnanimous, make me completely happy, think a little, decide, and then . . . then ... I swear! . . .”

  “No, Yegor Ilyitch, no, it’s no business of mine,” answered Foma. “You know that I do not meddle in the slightest degree in all that; you may be persuaded that I am at the bottom of it all, but I assure you that from the very beginning I have held entirely aloof from this affair. It is solely the desire of your mother, and she, of course, wishes for nothing but your good. ... Go to her, make haste, fly and rectify the position by your obedience . . . and let not the sun go down upon your wrath; while I ... I shall be all night long praying for you. I have known no sleep for many a night, Yegor Ilyitch. Good night! I forgive you too, old man,” he said, turning to Gavrila. “I know you did not do it of yourself. You forgive me too if I have offended you. . . . Good night, good night, all, and may the Lord bless you.”

  Foma went out. I rushed at once into the room.

  “You’ve been listening!” cried my uncle.

  “Yes, uncle, I have been listening! And you, you could call him ‘your Excellency’?”

  “What could I do, brother? Indeed, I am proud of it. . . . That was no great act of sacrifice. But what a noble, what a disinterested, what a great man! Sergey, why, you heard yourself . . . and how I could, how I could thrust that money on him, I simply don’t understand I My dear, I was carried away, I was in a rage. I did not understand him; I suspected him, I accused him. . . . But no, he could not be antagonistic to me — I see that now . . . and do you remember what a noble expression there was on his face when he was refusing the money?”

  “Very well, uncle, you can be as proud as you like, but I am going; my patience is at an end. For the last time I say it, tell me what you want of me? Why did you send for me, and what do you expect? And if it is all over and I am of no use to you, then I am going. I can’t endure such exhibitions! I am going this very day.”

  “My dear!” My uncle was in a fluster as usual. “Only wait two minutes; I am going now, dear boy, to mamma, to settle there ... a grave, important, immense question! . . . And you meanwhile go to your room. Here, Gavrila will take you to the summer lodge. You know the summer lodge, it is in the garden. I have given orders, and your trunk has been taken there; and I am going in to beg forgiveness and settle one question — I know now what to do — and then I will be with you in a flash, and then I’ll tell you everything, I’ll open my whole soul to you and . . . and . . . happy days will come for us too, some time! Two minutes, only two minutes, Sergey!”

  He pressed my hand and hurriedly went out. There was nothing to be done, I had to go off with Gavrila again.

  CHAPTER X

  MIZINTCHIKOV

  THE lodge to which Gavrila conducted me was called “the new lodge” only from old habit, because it was built long ago in the time of the former owners. It was a pretty little wooden house, standing in the garden a few paces from the old house. It was surrounded on three sides by tall old lime trees which touched the roof with their branches. All the four rooms of this little house were kept ready for visitors, and were not badly furnished. Going into the room assigned me, to which my portmanteau had been already taken, I saw on a little table before the bedstead a sheet of notepaper, covered with magnificent handwriting in various styles framed in garlands and flourishes. The capital letters and the garlands were illuminated in various colours. The whole made a very pretty specimen of calligraphy. From the first words I read I saw that it was a begging letter addressed to me, and that in it I was styled “Enlightened benefactor”. It was headed “The Plaints of Vidoplyasov”. Though I tried with strained attention to make out something of what was written, my efforts were all in vain, it was the most inflated nonsense, written in a high-flown flunkey lingo. I could only surmise that Vidoplyasov was in trouble of some sort, was begging for my assistance, was building great hopes upon me, “by reason of my enlightenment”, and in conclusion begged me to interest myself on his behalf with my uncle and to work upon him with “my machinery”, as he expressed it at the end of this epistle. I was still reading it when the door opened and Mizintchikov walked in.

  “I hope you will allow me to make your acquaintance,” he said in a free and easy way, though with extreme courtesy, offering me his hand. “I could not say two words to you this afternoon, and yet from the first glance I felt a desire to know you better.”

  I answered at once that I was delighted and so on, though I was, in fact, in an extremely bad temper. We sat down.

  “What have you got here?” he said, glancing at the sheet of paper which I was still holding in my hand. “Not ‘the plaints of Vidoplyasov’? That’s what it is. I was certain that Vidoplyasov was attacking you too. He presented me with just such a document with the same complaints; and he has been expecting you a long time and most likely got ready beforehand. You need not be surprised: there’s a great deal that’s queer here, and really there is plenty to laugh at.”

  “Only to laugh at?”

  “Oh, well, surely not to cry over. If you like I will give you Vidoplyasov’s history, and I am certain that you will laugh.”

  “I confess I am not interested in Vidoplyasov just now,” I answered with vexation.

  It was evident to me that Mr. Mizintchikov’s friendliness and his polite conversation were all assumed by him with some object, and that he was simply trying to get something out of me. He had sat scowling and serious in the afternoon; now he was good-humoured, smiling, and ready to tell me long stories. It was evident from the first glance that the man was perfectly self-possessed, and he seemed to understand human nature.

  “That cursed Foma!” I said, banging my fist on the table with fury. “I am positive that he is at the bottom of every sort of mischief here and mixed up in it all! Cursed brute!”

  “I think your anger is excessive,” Mizintchikov observed.

  “My anger excessive!” I cried, instantly firing up. “I let myself go too far this afternoon, of course, and so gave everyone a right to blame me. I know very well that I plunged in and put my foot in it on every point, and I think there is no need to tell me that! ... I know, too, that that’s not the way to behave in decent society; but how could I help letting myself go? tell me that. Why, this is a madhouse, if you care to know! And . . . and ... in fact ... I am simply going away, so there.”

  “Do you smoke?” Mizintchikov asked calmly.

  “Yes.”

  “Then you will probably allow me to smoke? They won’t let me in there, and I am wretched without it. I agree,” he went on, as he lighted a cigarette, “that all this is like a madhouse; but believe me, I do not venture to criticise you, just because in your place I should perhaps be three times as excited and violent as you.”

  “And why were you not violent if you really were angry too? I remember you very cool, on the contrary, and, I confess, I even thought it strange that you did not stand up for my poor uncle, who is ready to befriend . . . all and everyone!”

  “You are right: he has belriended many people; but I consider it perfectly useless to stand up for him: in the first place it would be useless and even derogatory for him in a way; and in the second I should be kicked out to-morrow. And I tell you frankly my circumstances are such that to be a guest here is a great advantage for me.”

  “But I do not make the slightest claim on your frankness in regard to your circumstances ... I should, however, have liked to ask, since you have been here a month ...”

  “Please, do, ask anything: I am at your service,” Mizintchikov answered, hurriedly moving up a chair.

  “Well, explain this, for instance: Foma Fomitch has just refused fifteen thousand roubles which were in his hands — I saw it with my o
wn eyes.”

  “What? Impossible!” cried Mizintchikov. “Tell me, please.”

  I told him, saying nothing about “your Excellency”, Mizintchikov listened with greedy curiosity. He positively changed countenance when the fifteen thousand were mentioned.

  “That’s smart!” he said, when he heard my story. “I really did not expect it of Foma.”

  “He did refuse the money, though! How do you explain that? Surely not by the nobility of his soul?”

  “He refused fifteen thousand to take thirty later. Though, do you know,” he added after a moment’s thought, “I doubt whether Foma had any mercenary design in it. He is not a practical man; he is a sort of poet, too, in his own way. Fifteen thousand . . . h’m. He would have taken the money, do you see, but he couldn’t resist the temptation to strike an attitude and give himself airs. I tell you he’s a sentimental mush, and the sloppiest old sniveller and all that, with the most unbounded vanity!”

  Mizintchikov was positively roused to anger. It was evident that he was very much annoyed and even envious. I looked at him with curiosity.

  “H’m! We may expect great changes,” he added, musing. “Now Yegor Ilyitch is ready to worship Foma. I shouldn’t wonder if he does get married now that his heart is softened,” he muttered through his teeth.

  “So you think that this abominable, unnatural marriage with that crazy fool really will come off?”

  Mizintchikov looked at me searchingly.

  “The scoundrels!” I cried emphatically.

  “There is a fairly sound idea at the back of it, though. They maintain that he ought to do something for his family.”

  “As though he hadn’t done enough for them,” I cried indignantly. “And you, you talk of there being a sound idea in marrying a vulgar fool!”

  “Of course I agree with you that she is a fool. . . . H’m! It’s a good thing that you are so fond of your uncle; I sympathise with him myself . . . though he could round off his estate finely with her fortune! They have other reasons, though; they are afraid that Yegor Ilyitch may marry that governess ... do you remember, an attractive girl?”

  “But is that likely to be true? ...” I asked in agitation. “It seems to me that it’s spiteful gossip. Tell me, for goodness’ sake, it interests me extremely. ...”

  “Oh, he is head over ears in love with her! Only, of course, he conceals it.”

  “He conceals it? You think that he is concealing it? And she? Does she love him?’’

  “It is very likely she does. It is all to her advantage to marry him, though; she is very poor.”

  “But what grounds have you for your supposition that they love each other?”

  “Oh, you know, you can’t help seeing it; besides, I believe they meet in secret. They do say that she has illicit relations with him, in fact. Only, please, don’t repeat that. I tell you as a secret.”

  “Is it possible to believe that?” I cried. “And you, you acknowledge that you believe it?”

  “Of course I do not fully believe it, I wasn’t there. But it’s very possible, though.”

  “Very possible? Think of my uncle’s sense of honour, his noble character.”

  “I agree; but one may be carried away, with a conviction that one is going to make it right with matrimony afterwards. People often are. But, I repeat, I don’t insist on the absolute certainty of the facts, especially as they have blackened her character in all sorts of ways here; they even say that she had an intrigue with Vidoplyasov.”

  “There, you see,” I cried, “with Vidoplyasov. Why, as though it were possible! Isn’t it revolting even to listen to such a thing? Surely you can’t believe it?”

  “I tell you that I do not quite believe it,” answered Mizintchikov calmly, “but it might happen. Anything may happen in this world. I was not there, and besides, I consider it not my business. But as I see you take great interest in all this, I feel I ought to add that I really don’t put much faith in the story about Vidoplyasov. It’s all the invention of Anna Nilovna, that Miss Perepelitsyn; it’s she who has set those rumours going here out of envy because she dreamed in the past of marrying Yegor Ilyitch herself — yes, by Jove, on the ground that she is a major’s daughter. Now she is disappointed and awfully furious. But I believe I have told you all about that business now, and I confess I greatly dislike gossip, especially as we are losing precious time. I have come to ask you a trifling favour, you see.”

  “A favour? Certainly; any way in which I can be of use to you.”

  “I understand, and indeed I hope to interest you, for I see you love your uncle and take great interest in his fate in the matrimonial line; but before I ask you that favour I will ask you another, a preliminary one.”

  “What is that?”

  “I’ll tell you; perhaps you will consent to grant my chief request, and perhaps not; but in any case, before telling it you I will humbly ask you to grant one great favour, to give me your word of honour as a nobleman and a gentleman that all you hear from me shall remain a dead secret, and that you will not betray the secret in any case or for the sake of any person, and will not take advantage for your own benefit of the idea which I now find it necessary to communicate to you. Do you agree or not?”

  It was a solemn introduction. I gave my assent.

  “Well?” ... I said.

  “It is really a very simple matter,” Mizintchikov began. “I want to elope with Tatyana Ivanovna and to marry her;

  in short, there is to be something in the Gretna Green style, do you understand?”

  I stared Mizintchikov straight in the face, and for some time I could not utter a word.

  “I confess I don’t understand at all,” I brought out at last; “and what’s more,” I went on, “expecting that I had to do with a sensible man, I did not in the least expect ...”

  “Expecting you did not expect,” interrupted Mizintchikov; “which may be translated, that I and my project are stupicU-that’s so, isn’t it?”

  “Oh, not at all . . . but . . .”

  “Oh, please, don’t mind speaking plainly! Don’t be uneasy; you will do me a great pleasure by plain speaking, in fact, for so we shall get nearer our object. I agree with you, though, that all this must seem somewhat strange at the first glance. But I venture to assure you that so far from being foolish, my project is extremely sensible; and if you will be so good as to listen to all the circumstances ...”

  “Oh, certainly! I am listening eagerly.”

  “There is scarcely anything to tell, though. You see, I am in debt and haven’t a farthing. I have, besides, a sister, a girl of nineteen, fatherless and motherless, living in a family and entirely without means, you know. For that I am partly to blame. We inherited a property of forty serfs. Just at that time I was promoted to be a cornet. Well, at first, of course, I mortgaged, and then I squandered our money in other ways too. I lived like a fool, set the fashion, gave myself airs, gambled, drank — it was idiotic, in fact, and I am ashamed to remember it. Now I have come to my senses and want to change my manner of life completely. But to do so it is absolutely essential to have a hundred thousand roubles. As I shall never get anything in the service, since I am not qualified for anything and have scarcely any education, there are, of course, only two resources left to me: to steal or to marry a rich wife. I came here almost without boots to my feet, I walked, I could not drive. My sister gave me her last three roubles when I set off from Moscow. Here I saw Tatyana Ivanovna, and at once the idea dawned upon me. I immediately resolved to sacrifice myself and marry her. You will agree that all that is nothing but good sense. Besides, I am doing it more for my sister’s sake . . . though, of course, for my own too.”

  “But allow me to ask, do you mean to make a formal pro-

  posal to Tatyana Ivanovna? ...”

  “God forbid, they would kick me out at once; but if I suggest an elopement, a runaway match, she will marry me at once. That’s the whole point, that there should be something romantic and sensational
about it. Of course it would all immediately end in legal matrimony. If only I can allure her away from here!”

  “But why are you so sure that she will elope with you?”

  “Oh, don’t trouble about that! I am perfectly sure of that. The whole plan rests on the idea that Tatyana Ivanovna is ready to carry on an intrigue with anyone she meets, with anyone, in fact, to whom it occurs to respond to her. That is why I first asked you to give me your word of honour that you would not take advantage of the idea. You will understand, of course, that it would be positively wicked of me not to take advantage of such an opportunity, especially in my circumstances.”

  “So then she is quite mad. ... Oh, I beg your pardon,” I added, catching myself up. “Since you now have intentions. . . .”

  “Please don’t mind speaking out, as I have asked you already. You ask, is she quite mad? What shall I tell you? Of course she is not mad, since she is not yet in a madhouse; besides, I really don’t see anything particularly mad in this mania for love affairs. She is a respectable girl in spite of everything. You see, till a year ago she was horribly poor, and from her birth up has lived in bondage to the ladies who befriended her. Her heart is exreptionally susceptible; no one has asked her in marriage. . . . Well, you understand: dreams, desires, hopes, the fervour of feelings which she has always had to conceal, perpetual agonies at the hands of the ladies who befriended her — all that of course might well drive a sensitive character to derangement. And all at once she comes in for a fortune; you’ll allow that is enough to upset anyone. Well, now of course people make up to her and hang about her, and all her hopes have risen up. She told us this afternoon about a dandy in a white waistcoat; that’s a lact which happened literally as she described. From that fact you can judge of the rest. With sighs, notes, verses you can inveigle her at once; and if with all that you hint at a silken rope ladder, a Spanish serenade and all that nonsense, you can do what you like with her. I have put it to the test, and at once obtained a secret interview. But meanwhile I have put it off till the right moment. But I must carry her off within four days. The evening before I shall begin to make tender speeches, to sigh: I can sing and play the guitar pretty well. At night there will be a meeting in the arbour, and at dawn the coach will be in readiness; I shall entice her away, we shall get into the coach and drive off. You understand that there is no risk about it whatever; she is of age, and what’s more, completely her own mistress. And if once she ran away with me she would, of course, be bound to me. I should take her to a poor but respectable family, thirty miles away, who would look after her, and not let anyone come near her till the wedding; and meanwhile I shan’t lose time, we’ll get married within three days — it can be done. Of course, first of all, money is needed; but I have reckoned that I shall not need more than five hundred roubles for the whole business, and for that I rely on Yegor Ilyitch. He will give it, of course, without knowing what is up. Do you understand now?”