白痴 英文版 The Idiot
陀思妥耶夫斯基 Fyodor Dostoyevsky
The Idiot XII.
IT was seven in the evening, and the prince was just preparing togo out for a walk in the park, when suddenly Mrs. Epanchinappeared on the terrace.
"In the first place, don't dare to suppose," she began, "that Iam going to apologize. Nonsense! You were entirely to blame."
The prince remained silent.
"Were you to blame, or not?"
"No, certainly not, no more than yourself, though at first Ithought I was."
"Oh, very well, let's sit down, at all events, for I don't intendto stand up all day. And remember, if you say, one word about'mischievous urchins,' I shall go away and break with youaltogether. Now then, did you, or did you not, send a letter toAglaya, a couple of months or so ago, about Easter-tide?"
"Yes!"
"What for? What was your object? Show me the letter." Mrs.Epanchin's eyes flashed; she was almost trembling withimpatience.
"I have not got the letter," said the prince, timidly, extremelysurprised at the turn the conversation had taken. "If anyone hasit, if it still exists, Aglaya Ivanovna must have it."
"No finessing, please. What did you write about?"
"I am not finessing, and I am not in the least afraid of tellingyou; but I don't see the slightest reason why I should not havewritten."
"Be quiet, you can talk afterwards! What was the letter about?Why are you blushing?"
The prince was silent. At last he spoke.
"I don't understand your thoughts, Lizabetha Prokofievna; but Ican see that the fact of my having written is for some reasonrepugnant to you. You must admit that I have a perfect right torefuse to answer your questions; but, in order to show you that Iam neither ashamed of the letter, nor sorry that I wrote it, andthat I am not in the least inclined to blush about it "(here theprince's blushes redoubled), "I will repeat the substance of myletter, for I think I know it almost by heart."
So saying, the prince repeated the letter almost word for word,as he had written it.
"My goodness, what utter twaddle, and what may all this nonsensehave signified, pray? If it had any meaning at all!" said Mrs.Epanchin, cuttingly, after having listened with great attention.
"I really don't absolutely know myself; I know my feeling wasvery sincere. I had moments at that time full of life and hope."
"What sort of hope?"
"It is difficult to explain, but certainly not the hopes you havein your mind. Hopes--well, in a word, hopes for the future, and afeeling of joy that THERE, at all events, I was not entirely astranger and a foreigner. I felt an ecstasy in being in my nativeland once more; and one sunny morning I took up a pen and wroteher that letter, but why to HER, I don't quite know. Sometimesone longs to have a friend near, and I evidently felt the need ofone then," added the prince, and paused.
"Are you in love with her?"
"N-no! I wrote to her as to a sister; I signed myself herbrother."
"Oh yes, of course, on purpose! I quite understand."
"It is very painful to me to answer these questions, LizabethaProkofievna."
"I dare say it is; but that's no affair of mine. Now then, assureme truly as before Heaven, are you lying to me or not?"
"No, I am not lying."
"Are you telling the truth when you say you are not in love?"
"I believe it is the absolute truth."
"'I believe,' indeed! Did that mischievous urchin give it toher?"
"The urchin! the urchin!" interrupted Lizabetha Prokofievna in anangry voice. "I do not want to know if it were NicolaiArdalionovitch! The urchin!"
"Nicolai Ardalionovitch . . ."
"The urchin, I tell you!"
"No, it was not the urchin: it was Nicolai Ardalionovitch," saidthe prince very firmly, but without raising his voice.
"Well, all right! All right, my dear! I shall put that down toyour account."
She was silent a moment to get breath, and to recover hercomposure.
"Well!--and what's the meaning of the 'poor knight,' eh?"
"I don't know in the least; I wasn't present when the joke wasmade. It IS a joke. I suppose, and that's all."
"Well, that's a comfort, at all events. You don't suppose shecould take any interest in you, do you? Why, she called you an'idiot' herself."
"I think you might have spared me that," murmured the princereproachfully, almost in a whisper.
"Don't be angry; she is a wilful, mad, spoilt girl. If she likesa person she will pitch into him, and chaff him. I used to bejust such another. But for all that you needn't flatter yourself,my boy; she is not for you. I don't believe it, and it is not tobe. I tell you so at once, so that you may take properprecautions. Now, I want to hear you swear that you are notmarried to that woman?"
"Lizabetha Prokofievna, what are you thinking of?" cried theprince, almost leaping to his feet in amazement.
"Why? You very nearly were, anyhow."
"Yes--I nearly was," whispered the prince, hanging his head.
"Well then, have you come here for HER? Are you in love with HER?With THAT creature?"
"I did not come to marry at all," replied the prince.
"Is there anything you hold sacred?"
"There is."
"Then swear by it that you did not come here to marry HER!"
"I'll swear it by whatever you please."
"I believe you. You may kiss me; I breathe freely at last. Butyou must know, my dear friend, Aglaya does not love you, and sheshall never be your wife while I am out of my grave. So be warnedin time. Do you hear me?"
"Yes, I hear."
The prince flushed up so much that he could not look her in theface.
"I have waited for you with the greatest impatience (not that youwere worth it). Every night I have drenched my pillow with tears,not for you, my friend, not for you, don't flatter yourself! Ihave my own grief, always the same, always the same. But I'lltell you why I have been awaiting you so impatiently, because Ibelieve that Providence itself sent you to be a friend and abrother to me. I haven't a friend in the world except PrincessBielokonski, and she is growing as stupid as a sheep from oldage. Now then, tell me, yes or no? Do you know why she called outfrom her carriage the other night?"
"I give you my word of honour that I had nothing to do with thematter and know nothing about it."
"Very well, I believe you. I have my own ideas about it. Up toyesterday morning I thought it was really Evgenie Pavlovitch whowas to blame; now I cannot help agreeing with the others. But whyhe was made such a fool of I cannot understand. However, he isnot going to marry Aglaya, I can tell you that. He may be a veryexcellent fellow, but--so it shall be. I was not at all sure ofaccepting him before, but now I have quite made up my mind that Iwon't have him. 'Put me in my coffin first and then into mygrave, and then you may marry my daughter to whomsoever youplease,' so I said to the general this very morning. You see howI trust you, my boy."
"Yes, I see and understand."
Mrs. Epanchin gazed keenly into the prince's eyes. She wasanxious to see what impression the news as to Evgenie Pavlovitchhad made upon him.
"Do you know anything about Gavrila Ardalionovitch?" she asked atlast.
"Oh yes, I know a good deal."
"Did you know he had communications with Aglaya?"
"No, I didn't," said the prince, trembling a little, and in greatagitation. "You say Gavrila Ardalionovitch has privatecommunications with Aglaya?--Impossible!"
"Only quite lately. His sister has been working like a rat toclear the way for him all the winter."
"I don't believe it!" said the prince abruptly, after a shortpause. "Had it been so I should have known long ago."
"Oh, of course, yes; he would have come and wept out his secreton your bosom. Oh, you simpleton--you simpleton! Anyone candeceive you and take you in like a--like a,--aren't you ashamedto trust him? Can't you see that he humbugs you just as much asever he pleases?"
"I know very well that he does deceive me occasionally, and heknows that I know it, but--" The prince did not finish hissentence.
"And that's why you trust him, eh? So I should have supposed.Good Lord, was there ever such a man as you? Tfu! and are youaware, sir, that this Gania, or his sister Varia, have broughther into correspondence with Nastasia Philipovna?"
"Brought whom?" cried Muishkin.
"Aglaya."
"I don't believe it! It's impossible! What object could theyhave?" He jumped up from his chair in his excitement.
"Nor do I believe it, in spite of the proofs. The girl is self-willed and fantastic, and insane! She's wicked, wicked! I'llrepeat it for a thousand years that she's wicked; they ALL are,just now, all my daughters, even that 'wet hen' Alexandra. Andyet I don't believe it. Because I don't choose to believe it,perhaps; but I don't. Why haven't you been?" she turned on theprince suddenly. "Why didn't you come near us all these threedays, eh?"
The prince began to give his reasons, but she interrupted himagain.
"Everybody takes you in and deceives you; you went to townyesterday. I dare swear you went down on your knees to thatrogue, and begged him to accept your ten thousand roubles!"
"I never thought of doing any such thing. I have not seen him,and he is not a rogue, in my opinion. I have had a letter fromhim."
"Show it me!"
The prince took a paper from his pocket-book, and handed it toLizabetha Prokofievna. It ran as follows:
"SIR,
"In the eyes of the world I am sure that I have nocause for pride or self-esteem. I am much too insignificantfor that. But what may be so to other men's eyes is notso to yours. I am convinced that you are better than otherpeople. Doktorenko disagrees with me, but I am contentto differ from him on this point. I will never accept onesingle copeck from you, but you have helped my mother,and I am bound to be grateful to you for that, howeverweak it may seem. At any rate, I have changed myopinion about you, and I think right to inform you of thefact; but I also suppose that there can be no further intercourse between us " ANTIP BURDOVSKY.
"P.S.--The two hundred roubles I owe you shall certainly berepaid in time."
"How extremely stupid!" cried Mrs. Epanchin, giving back theletter abruptly. "It was not worth the trouble of reading. Whyare you smiling?"
"Confess that you are pleased to have read it."
"What! Pleased with all that nonsense! Why, cannot you see thatthey are all infatuated with pride and vanity?"
"He has acknowledged himself to be in the wrong. Don't you seethat the greater his vanity, the more difficult this admissionmust have been on his part? Oh, what a little child you are,Lizabetha Prokofievna!"
"Are you tempting me to box your ears for you, or what?"
"Not at all. I am only proving that you are glad about theletter. Why conceal your real feelings? You always like to doit."
"Never come near my house again!" cried Mrs. Epanchin, pale withrage. "Don't let me see as much as a SHADOW of you about theplace! Do you hear?"
"Oh yes, and in three days you'll come and invite me yourself.Aren't you ashamed now? These are your best feelings; you areonly tormenting yourself."
"I'll die before I invite you! I shall forget your very name!I've forgotten it already!"
She marched towards the door.
"But I'm forbidden your house as it is, without your addedthreats!" cried the prince after her.
"What? Who forbade you?"
She turned round so suddenly that one might have supposed aneedle had been stuck into her.
The prince hesitated. He perceived that he had said too much now.
"WHO forbade you?" cried Mrs. Epanchin once more.
"Aglaya Ivanovna told me--"
"When? Speak--quick!"
"She sent to say, yesterday morning, that I was never to dare tocome near the house again."
Lizabetha Prokofievna stood like a stone.
"What did she send? Whom? Was it that boy? Was it a message?-quick!"
"I had a note," said the prince.
"Where is it? Give it here, at once."
The prince thought a moment. Then he pulled out of his waistcoatpocket an untidy slip of paper, on which was scrawled:
"PRINCE LEF NICOLAIEVITCH,--If you think fit, after all that haspassed, to honour our house with a visit, I can assure you youwill not find me among the number of those who are in any waydelighted to see you.
"AGLAYA EPANCHIN."
Mrs. Epanchin reflected a moment. The next minute she flew at theprince, seized his hand, and dragged him after her to the door.
"Quick--come along!" she cried, breathless with agitation andimpatience. "Come along with me this moment!"
"But you declared I wasn't--"
"Don't be a simpleton. You behave just as though you weren't aman at all. Come on! I shall see, now, with my own eyes. I shallsee all."
"Well, let me get my hat, at least."
"Here's your miserable hat He couldn't even choose a respectableshape for his hat! Come on! She did that because I took your partand said you ought to have come--little vixen!--else she wouldnever have sent you that silly note. It's a most improper note, Icall it; most improper for such an intelligent, well-brought-upgirl to write. H'm! I dare say she was annoyed that you didn'tcome; but she ought to have known that one can't write like thatto an idiot like you, for you'd be sure to take it literally."Mrs. Epanchin was dragging the prince along with her all thetime, and never let go of his hand for an instant. "What are youlistening for?" she added, seeing that she had committed herselfa little. "She wants a clown like you--she hasn't seen one forsome time--to play with. That's why she is anxious for you tocome to the house. And right glad I am that she'll make athorough good fool of you. You deserve it; and she can do it--oh!she can, indeed!--as well as most people."