The Idiot

by Fyodor Dostoevsky

  “And who told you not to understand things? Learn your lesson now from intelligent people!” Darya Alexeevna (an old and trusty friend and accomplice of Totsky’s) snapped out to him all but triumphantly.

  “You’re right, Afanasy Ivanovich, this petit jeu is very boring, and we must end it quickly,” Nastasya Filippovna offered casually. “I’ll tell what I promised, and then let’s all play cards.”

  “But the promised anecdote before all!” the general warmly approved.

  “Prince,” Nastasya Filippovna suddenly addressed him sharply and unexpectedly, “these old friends of mine, the general and Afanasy Ivanovich, keep wanting to get me married. Tell me what you think: should I get married or not? I’ll do as you say.”

  Afanasy Ivanovich turned pale, the general was dumbfounded; everyone stared and thrust their heads forward. Ganya froze in his place.

  “To … to whom?” asked the prince in a sinking voice.

  “To Gavrila Ardalionovich Ivolgin,” Nastasya Filippovna went on as sharply, firmly, and distinctly as before.

  Several moments passed in silence; the prince seemed to be trying hard but could not utter a word, as if a terrible weight were pressing on his chest.

  “N-no … don’t!” he whispered at last and tensely drew his breath.

  “And so it will be! Gavrila Ardalionovich!” she addressed him imperiously and as if solemnly, “did you hear what the prince decided? Well, so that is my answer; and let this business be concluded once and for all!”

  “Nastasya Filippovna!” Afanasy Ivanovich said in a trembling voice.

  “Nastasya Filippovna!” the general uttered in a persuading and startled voice.

  Everyone stirred and started.

  “What’s wrong, gentlemen?” she went on, peering at her guests as if in amazement. “Why are you all so aflutter? And what faces you all have!”

  “But … remember, Nastasya Filippovna,” Totsky murmured, faltering, “you gave your promise, quite voluntarily, and you might be a little sparing … I’m at a loss and … certainly embarrassed, but … In short, now, at such a moment, and in front … infront of people, just like that … to end a serious matter with this petit jeu, a matter of honor and of the heart … on which depends …”

  “I don’t understand you, Afanasy Ivanovich; you’re really quite confused. In the first place, what is this ‘in front of people’? Aren’t we in wonderfully intimate company? And why a petit jeu? I really wanted to tell my anecdote, and so I told it; is it no good? And why do you say it’s ‘not serious’? Isn’t it serious? You heard me say to the prince: ‘It will be as you say.’ If he had said ‘yes,’ I would have consented at once; but he said ‘no,’ and I refused. My whole life was hanging by a hair—what could be more serious?”

  “But the prince, why involve the prince? And what, finally, is the prince?” muttered the general, now almost unable to hold back his indignation at such even offensive authority granted to the prince.

  “The prince is this for me, that I believe in him as the first truly devoted man in my whole life. He believed in me from the first glance, and I trust him.”

  “It only remains for me to thank Nastasya Filippovna for the extreme delicacy with which she has … treated me,” the pale Ganya finally uttered in a trembling voice and with twisted lips. “This is, of course, as it ought to be … But … the prince … In this affair, the prince …”

  “Is trying to get at the seventy-five thousand, is that it?” Nastasya Filippovna suddenly cut him off. “Is that what you wanted to say? Don’t deny it, you certainly wanted to say that! Afanasy Ivanovich, I forgot to add: you can keep the seventy-five thousand for yourself and know that I’ve set you free gratis. Enough! You, too, need to breathe! Nine years and three months! Tomorrow—all anew, but today is my birthday and I’m on my own for the first time in my whole life! General, you can also take your pearls and give them to your wife—here they are; and tomorrow I’ll vacate this apartment entirely. And there will be no more evenings, ladies and gentlemen!”

  Having said this, she suddenly stood up as if wishing to leave.

  “Nastasya Filippovna! Nastasya Filippovna!” came from all sides. Everyone stirred, everyone got up from their chairs; everyone surrounded her, everyone listened uneasily to these impulsive, feverish, frenzied words; everyone sensed some disorder, no one could make any sense of it, no one could understand anything. At that moment the doorbell rang loudly, strongly, just as earlier that day in Ganechka’s apartment.

  “Ahh! Here’s the denouement! At last! It’s half-past eleven!” Nastasya Filippovna cried. “Please be seated, ladies and gentlemen, this is the denouement!”

  Having said this, she sat down herself. Strange laughter trembled on her lips. She sat silently, in feverish expectation, looking at the door.

  “Rogozhin and the hundred thousand, no doubt,” Ptitsyn murmured to himself.

  XV

  THE MAID KATYA came in, badly frightened.

  “God knows what it is, Nastasya Filippovna, about a dozen men barged in, and they’re all drunk, they want to come here, they say it’s Rogozhin and that you know.”

  “That’s right, Katya, let them all in at once.”

  “You mean … all, Nastasya Filippovna? They’re quite outrageous. Frightful!”

  “All, let them all in, Katya, don’t be afraid, all of them to a man, or else they’ll come in without you. Hear how noisy they are, just like the other time. Ladies and gentlemen, perhaps you’re offended,” she addressed her guests, “that I should receive such company in your presence? I’m very sorry and beg your pardon, but it must be so, and I wish very, very much that you will agree to be my witnesses in this denouement, though, incidentally, you may do as you please …”

  The guests went on being amazed, whispering and exchanging glances, but it became perfectly clear that it had all been calculated and arranged beforehand, and that now Nastasya Filippovna—though she was, of course, out of her mind—would not be thrown off. They all suffered terribly from curiosity. Besides, there was really no one to be frightened. There were only two ladies: Darya Alexeevna, the sprightly lady, who had seen everything and whom it would have been very hard to put out, and the beautiful but silent stranger. But the silent stranger was scarcely able to understand anything: she was a traveling German lady and did not know a word of Russian; besides that, it seems she was as stupid as she was beautiful. She was a novelty, and it was an accepted thing to invite her to certain evenings, in magnificent costume, her hair done up as if for an exhibition, and to sit her there like a lovely picture to adorn the evening, just as some people, for their evenings, borrow some painting, vase, statue, or screen from their friends for one time only. As far as the men were concerned, Ptitsyn, for instance, was friends with Rogozhin; Ferdyshchenko was like a fish in water; Ganechka had not yet come to his senses, but felt vaguely yet irresistibly the feverish need to stand in this pillory to the end; the old schoolteacher, who had little grasp of what was going on, all but wept and literally trembled with fear, noticing some sort of extraordinary alarm around him and in Nastasya Filippovna, whom he doted on like a granddaughter; but he would sooner have died than abandon her at such a moment. As for Afanasy Ivanovich, he, of course, could not compromise himself in such adventures; but he was much too interested in the affair, even if it had taken such a crazy turn; then, too, Nastasya Filippovna had dropped two or three such little phrases on his account, that he could by no means leave without clarifying the matter definitively. He resolved to sit it out to the end and now to be completely silent and remain only as an observer, which, of course, his dignity demanded. General Epanchin alone, thoroughly offended as he had just been by such an unceremonious and ridiculous return of his present, could, of course, be still more offended now by all these extraordinary eccentricities or, for instance, by the appearance of Rogozhin; then, too, even without that, a man like him had already condescended too much by resolving to sit down beside Ptitsyn and Ferdyshchenko; bu
t what the power of passion could do, could also be overcome in the end by a feeling of responsibility, a sense of duty, rank, and importance, and generally of self-respect, so that Rogozhin and his company, in his excellency’s presence at any rate, were impossible.

  “Ah, General,” Nastasya Filippovna interrupted him as soon as he turned to her with this announcement, “I forgot! But you may be sure that I foresaw your reaction. If it’s offensive to you, I won’t insist on keeping you, though I’d like very much to see precisely you at my side now. In any case, I thank you very much for your acquaintance and flattering attention, but if you’re afraid …”

  “Excuse me, Nastasya Filippovna,” the general cried in a fit of chivalrous magnanimity, “to whom are you talking? I’ll stay beside you now out of devotion alone, and if, for instance, there is any danger … What’s more, I confess, I’m extremely curious. My only concern was that they might ruin the rugs or break something … And we could do very well without them, in my opinion, Nastasya Filippovna!”

  “Rogozhin himself!” announced Ferdyshchenko.

  “What do you think, Afanasy Ivanovich,” the general managed to whisper quickly, “hasn’t she gone out of her mind? Without any allegory, that is, in a real, medical sense, eh?”

  “I told you, she has always been inclined to it,” Afanasy Ivanovich slyly whispered back.

  “And the fever along with it …”

  Rogozhin’s company was almost the same as earlier that day; the only additions were some little old libertine, once the editor of a disreputable scandal sheet, of whom the anecdote went around that he had pawned and drunk up his gold teeth, and a retired lieutenant—decidedly the rival and competitor, in his trade and purpose, of the gentleman with the fists earlier—who was totally unknown to any of Rogozhin’s people, but who had been picked up in the street, on the sunny side of Nevsky Prospect, where he was stopping passersby and asking, in Marlinsky’s style,f for financial assistance, under the perfidious pretext that “in his time he himself used to give petitioners fifteen roubles.” The two competitors had immediately become hostile to each other. The earlier gentleman with the fists even considered himself offended, once the “petitioner” was accepted into the company and, being taciturn by nature, merely growled now and then like a bear and looked with profound scorn upon the fawning and facetiousness of the “petitioner,” who turned out to be a worldly and politic man. By the looks of him, the lieutenant promised to succeed in “the business” more by adroitness and dodging than by strength, being also of smaller stature than the fist gentleman. Delicately, without getting into an obvious argument, but boasting terribly, he had already hinted more than once at the advantages of English boxing; in short, he turned out to be a pure Westernizer.43 At the word “boxing,” the fist gentleman merely smiled scornfully and touchily, and without condescending, for his part, to an obvious debate with his rival, displayed now and then, silently, as if accidentally, or, better to say, exposed to view now and then, a perfectly national thing—a huge fist, sinewy, gnarled, overgrown with a sort of reddish fuzz—and everyone could see clearly that if this profoundly national thing were aptly brought down on some object, there would be nothing left but a wet spot.

  Again, as earlier, none of them was “loaded” to the utmost degree, thanks to the efforts of Rogozhin himself, who all day had kept in view his visit to Nastasya Filippovna. He himself had managed to sober up almost completely, but on the other hand he was nearly befuddled from all the impressions he had endured on that outrageous day, unlike any other day in his life. Only one thing remained constantly in view for him, in his memory and in his heart, every minute, every moment. For this one thing he had spent the whole time from five o’clock in the afternoon till eleven, in boundless anguish and anxiety, dealing with the Kinders and Biskups, who also nearly went out of their minds, rushing about like mad on his business. And yet, all the same, they had managed to raise the hundred thousand in cash, which Nastasya Filippovna had hinted at in passing, mockingly and quite vaguely, at an interest which even Biskup himself, out of modesty, discussed with Kinder not aloud but only in a whisper.

  As earlier, Rogozhin marched in ahead of them all, the rest advancing behind him, fully aware of their advantages, but still somewhat cowardly. Above all, and God knows why, they felt cowardly towards Nastasya Filippovna. Some of them even thought they would immediately be “chucked down the stairs.” Among those who thought so, incidentally, was that fop and heartbreaker Zalyozhev. But the others, and most of all the fist gentleman, not aloud but in their hearts, regarded Nastasya Filippovna with the profoundest contempt and even hatred, and went to her as to a siege. But the magnificent décor of the first two rooms, things they had never seen or heard of, rare furniture, paintings, an enormous statue of Venus—all this produced in them an irresistible impression of respect and even almost of fear. This, of course, prevented none of them from squeezing gradually and with insolent curiosity, despite their fear, into the drawing room behind Rogozhin; but when the fist gentleman, the “petitioner,” and some of the others noticed General Epanchin among the guests, they were at first so taken aback that they even began retreating slowly into the first room. Lebedev alone was among the most emboldened and convinced, and marched in almost on a par with Rogozhin, having grasped the actual meaning of one million four hundred thousand in capital and of a hundred thousand now, right here, in the hand. It must be noted, however, that none of them, not even the allknowing Lebedev, were quite certain in their knowledge of the extent and limits of their power and whether indeed everything was now permitted them or not. There were moments when Lebedev could have sworn it was everything, but at other moments he felt an uneasy need to remind himself, just in case, of certain encouraging and reassuring articles of the legal code.

  On Rogozhin himself Nastasya Filippovna’s drawing room made the opposite impression from that of all his companions. As soon as the door curtain was raised and he saw Nastasya Filippovna—all the rest ceased to exist for him, as it had in the afternoon, even more powerfully than in the afternoon. He turned pale and stopped for a moment; one could surmise that his heart was pounding terribly. Timidly and like a lost man he gazed at Nastasya Filippovna for several seconds, not taking his eyes off her. Suddenly, as if he had lost all reason and nearly staggering, he went up to the table; on his way he bumped into Ptitsyn’s chair and stepped with his huge, dirty boots on the lace trimming of the silent German beauty’s magnificent light blue dress; he did not apologize and did not notice. Having gone up to the table, he placed on it a strange object, with which he had also entered the drawing room, holding it out in front of him with both hands. It was a big stack of paper, about five inches high and seven inches long, wrapped firmly and closely in The Stock Market Gazette, and tied very tightly on all sides and twice crisscross with the kind of string used for tying sugar loaves. Then he stood without saying a word, his arms hanging down, as if awaiting his sentence. He was dressed exactly as earlier, except for the brand-new silk scarf on his neck, bright green and red, with an enormous diamond pin shaped like a beetle, and the huge diamond ring on the dirty finger of his right hand. Lebedev stopped within three steps of the table; the rest, as was said, gradually accumulated in the drawing room. Katya and Pasha, Nastasya Filippovna’s maids, also came running and watched from under the raised door curtain with deep amazement and fear.

  “What is this?” asked Nastasya Filippovna, looking Rogozhin over intently and curiously, and indicating the “object” with her eyes.

  “The hundred thousand!” he replied almost in a whisper.

  “Ah, so he’s kept his word, just look! Sit down, please, here, right here on this chair; I’ll tell you something later. Who is with you? The whole company from before? Well, let them come and sit down; there on the sofa is fine, and on the other sofa. The two armchairs there … what’s the matter with them, don’t they want to?”

  Indeed, some were positively abashed, retreated, and sat down to wait in the othe
r room, but others stayed and seated themselves as they were invited to do, only further away from the table, more in the corners, some still wishing to efface themselves somewhat, others taking heart somehow unnaturally quickly, and the more so the further it went. Rogozhin also sat down on the chair shown him, but did not sit for long; he soon stood up and did not sit down again. He gradually began to make out the guests and look around at them. Seeing Ganya, he smiled venomously and whispered to himself: “So there!” He looked without embarrassment and even without any special curiosity at the general and Afanasy Ivanovich, but when he noticed the prince beside Nastasya Filippovna, he could not tear his eyes from him for a long time, being extremely astonished and as if unable to explain this encounter to himself. One might have suspected that there were moments when he was actually delirious. Besides the shocks of that day, he had spent the whole previous night on the train and had not slept for almost two days.

  “This, ladies and gentlemen, is a hundred thousand,” said Nastasya Filippovna, addressing them all with some sort of feverishly impatient defiance, “here in this dirty packet. Earlier today he shouted like a madman that he would bring me a hundred thousand in the evening, and I’ve been waiting for him. He was bargaining for me: he started at eighteen thousand, then suddenly jumped to forty, and then to this hundred here. He has kept his word! Pah, how pale he is!… It happened at Ganechka’s today: I went to call on his mother, on my future family, and there his sister shouted right in my face: ‘Why don’t they throw this shameless woman out of here!’ and spat in her brother Ganechka’s face. A hot-tempered girl!”

  “Nastasya Filippovna!” the general said reproachfully. He was beginning to take his own view of the situation.

  “What is it, General? Indecent or something? Enough of this showing off! So I sat like some sort of dress-circle virtue in a box at the French Theater, and fled like a wild thing from all the men who chased after me in these five years, and had the look of proud innocence, all because my foolishness ran away with me! Look, right in front of you he has come and put a hundred thousand on the table, after these five years of innocence, and they probably have troikas standing out there waiting for me. He’s priced me at a hundred thousand! Ganechka, I see you’re still angry with me? Did you really want to take me into your family? Me, Rogozhin’s kind of woman! What was it the prince said earlier?”