白痴 英文版 The Idiot
陀思妥耶夫斯基 Fyodor Dostoyevsky
The Idiot V. Page 1
IN point of fact, Varia had rather exaggerated the certainty ofher news as to the prince's betrothal to Aglaya. Very likely,with the perspicacity of her sex, she gave out as an accomplishedfact what she felt was pretty sure to become a fact in a fewdays. Perhaps she could not resist the satisfaction of pouringone last drop of bitterness into her brother Gania's cup, inspite of her love for him. At all events, she had been unable toobtain any definite news from the Epanchin girls--the most shecould get out of them being hints and surmises, and so on.Perhaps Aglaya's sisters had merely been pumping Varia for newswhile pretending to impart information; or perhaps, again, theyhad been unable to resist the feminine gratification of teasing afriend--for, after all this time, they could scarcely have helpeddivining the aim of her frequent visits.
On the other hand, the prince, although he had told Lebedeff,--aswe know, that nothing had happened, and that he had nothing toimpart,--the prince may have been in error. Something strangeseemed to have happened, without anything definite havingactually happened. Varia had guessed that with her true feminineinstinct.
How or why it came about that everyone at the Epanchins' becameimbued with one conviction--that something very important hadhappened to Aglaya, and that her fate was in process ofsettlement--it would be very difficult to explain. But no soonerhad this idea taken root, than all at once declared that they hadseen and observed it long ago; that they had remarked it at thetime of the "poor knight" joke, and even before, though they hadbeen unwilling to believe in such nonsense.
So said the sisters. Of course, Lizabetha Prokofievna hadforeseen it long before the rest; her "heart had been sore" for along while, she declared, and it was now so sore that sheappeared to be quite overwhelmed, and the very thought of theprince became distasteful to her.
There was a question to be decided--most important, but mostdifficult; so much so, that Mrs. Epanchin did not even see how toput it into words. Would the prince do or not? Was all this goodor bad? If good (which might be the case, of course), WHY good?If bad (which was hardly doubtful), WHEREIN, especially, bad?Even the general, the paterfamilias, though astonished at first,suddenly declared that, "upon his honour, he really believed hehad fancied something of the kind, after all. At first, it seemeda new idea, and then, somehow, it looked as familiar aspossible." His wife frowned him down there. This was in themorning; but in the evening, alone with his wife, he had giventongue again.
"Well, really, you know"--(silence)--"of course, you know allthis is very strange, if true, which I cannot deny; but"--(silence).--" But, on the other hand, if one looks things in theface, you know--upon my honour, the prince is a rare good fellow--and--and--and--well, his name, you know--your family name--allthis looks well, and perpetuates the name and title and all that--which at this moment is not standing so high as it might--fromone point of view--don't you know? The world, the world is theworld, of course--and people will talk--and--and--the prince hasproperty, you know--if it is not very large--and then he--he--"(Continued silence, and collapse of the general.)
Hearing these words from her husband, Lizabetha Prokofievna wasdriven beside herself.
According to her opinion, the whole thing had been one huge,fantastical, absurd, unpardonable mistake. "First of all, thisprince is an idiot, and, secondly, he is a fool--knows nothing ofthe world, and has no place in it. Whom can he be shown to? Wherecan you take him to? What will old Bielokonski say? We neverthought of such a husband as THAT for our Aglaya!"
Of course, the last argument was the chief one. The maternalheart trembled with indignation to think of such an absurdity,although in that heart there rose another voice, which said: "AndWHY is not the prince such a husband as you would have desiredfor Aglaya?" It was this voice which annoyed LizabethaProkofievna more than anything else.
For some reason or other, the sisters liked the idea of theprince. They did not even consider it very strange; in a word,they might be expected at any moment to range themselves stronglyon his side. But both of them decided to say nothing either way.It had always been noticed in the family that the stronger Mrs.Epanchin's opposition was to any project, the nearer she was, inreality, to giving in.
Alexandra, however, found it difficult to keep absolute silenceon the subject. Long since holding, as she did, the post of"confidential adviser to mamma," she was now perpetually calledin council, and asked her opinion, and especially her assistance,in order to recollect "how on earth all this happened?" Why didno one see it? Why did no one say anything about it? What did allthat wretched "poor knight" joke mean? Why was she, LizabethaProkofievna, driven to think, and foresee, and worry foreverybody, while they all sucked their thumbs, and counted thecrows in the garden, and did nothing? At first, Alexandra hadbeen very careful, and had merely replied that perhaps herfather's remark was not so far out: that, in the eyes of theworld, probably the choice of the prince as a husband for one ofthe Epanchin girls would be considered a very wise one. Warmingup, however, she added that the prince was by no means a fool,and never had been; and that as to "place in the world," no oneknew what the position of a respectable person in Russia wouldimply in a few years--whether it would depend on successes in thegovernment service, on the old system, or what.
To all this her mother replied that Alexandra was a freethinker,and that all this was due to that "cursed woman's rightsquestion."
Half an hour after this conversation, she went off to town, andthence to the Kammenny Ostrof, ["Stone Island," a suburb and parkof St. Petersburg] to see Princess Bielokonski, who had justarrived from Moscow on a short visit. The princess was Aglaya'sgodmother.
"Old Bielokonski"listened to all the fevered and despairinglamentations of Lizabetha Prokofievna without the least emotion;the tears of this sorrowful mother did not evoke answering sighs--in fact, she laughed at her. She was a dreadful old despot, thisprincess; she could not allow equality in anything, not even infriendship of the oldest standing, and she insisted on treatingMrs. Epanchin as her protegee, as she had been thirty-five yearsago. She could never put up with the independence and energy ofLizabetha's character. She observed that, as usual, the wholefamily had gone much too far ahead, and had converted a fly intoan elephant; that, so far as she had heard their story, she waspersuaded that nothing of any seriousness had occurred; that itwould surely be better to wait until something DID happen; thatthe prince, in her opinion, was a very decent young fellow,though perhaps a little eccentric, through illness, and not quiteas weighty in the world as one could wish. The worst feature was,she said, Nastasia Philipovna.
Lizabetha Prokofievna well understood that the old lady was angryat the failure of Evgenie Pavlovitch--her own recommendation. Shereturned home to Pavlofsk in a worse humour than when she left,and of course everybody in the house suffered. She pitched intoeveryone, because, she declared, they had 'gone mad.' Why werethings always mismanaged in her house? Why had everybody been insuch a frantic hurry in this matter? So far as she could see,nothing whatever had happened. Surely they had better wait andsee what was to happen, instead of making mountains out ofmolehills.
And so the conclusion of the matter was that it would be farbetter to take it quietly, and wait coolly to see what would turnup. But, alas! peace did not reign for more than ten minutes. Thefirst blow dealt to its power was in certain news communicated toLizabetha Prokofievna as to events which bad happened during hertrip to see the princess. (This trip had taken place the dayafter that on which the prince had turned up at the Epanchins atnearly one o'clock at night, thinking it was nine.)
The sisters replied candidly and fully enough to their mother'simpatient questions on her return. They said, in the first place,that nothing particular had happened since her departure; thatthe prince had been, and that Aglaya had kept him waiting a longwhile before she appeared--half an hour, at least; that she hadthen come in, and immediately asked the prince to have a game ofchess; that the prince did not know the game, and Aglaya hadbeaten him easily; that she had been in a wonderfully merry mood,and had laughed at the prince, and chaffed him so unmercifullythat one was quite sorry to see his wretched expression.
She had then asked him to play cards--the game called "littlefools." At this game the tables were turned completely, for theprince had shown himself a master at it. Aglaya had cheated andchanged cards, and stolen others, in the most bare-faced way,but, in spite of everything the prince had beaten her hopelesslyfive times running, and she had been left "little fool" eachtime.
Aglaya then lost her temper, and began to say such awful thingsto the prince that he laughed no more, but grew dreadfully pale,especially when she said that she should not remain in the housewith him, and that he ought to be ashamed of coming to theirhouse at all, especially at night, "AFTER ALL THAT HAD HAPPENED."
So saying, she had left the room, banging the door after her, andthe prince went off, looking as though he were on his way to afuneral, in spite of all their attempts at consolation.
Suddenly, a quarter of an hour after the prince's departure,Aglaya had rushed out of her room in such a hurry that she hadnot even wiped her eyes, which were full of tears. She came backbecause Colia had brought a hedgehog. Everybody came in to seethe hedgehog. In answer to their questions Colia explained thatthe hedgehog was not his, and that he had left another boy,Kostia Lebedeff, waiting for him outside. Kostia was too shy tocome in, because he was carrying a hatchet; they had bought thehedgehog and the hatchet from a peasant whom they had met on theroad. He had offered to sell them the hedgehog, and they had paidfifty copecks for it; and the hatchet had so taken their fancythat they had made up their minds to buy it of their own accord.On hearing this, Aglaya urged Colia to sell her the hedgehog; sheeven called him "dear Colia," in trying to coax him. He refusedfor a long time, but at last he could hold out no more, and wentto fetch Kostia Lebedeff. The latter appeared, carrying hishatchet, and covered with confusion. Then it came out that thehedgehog was not theirs, but the property of a schoolmate, onePetroff, who had given them some money to buy Schlosser's Historyfor him, from another schoolfellow who at that moment was drivento raising money by the sale of his books. Colia and Kostia wereabout to make this purchase for their friend when chance broughtthe hedgehog to their notice, and they had succumbed to thetemptation of buying it. They were now taking Petroff thehedgehog and hatchet which they had bought with his money,instead of Schiosser's History. But Aglaya so entreated them thatat last they consented to sell her the hedgehog. As soon as shehad got possession of it, she put it in a wicker basket withColia's help, and covered it with a napkin. Then she said toColia: "Go and take this hedgehog to the prince from me, and askhim to accept it as a token of my profound respect." Coliajoyfully promised to do the errand, but he demanded explanations."What does the hedgehog mean? What is the meaning of such apresent?" Aglaya replied that it was none of his business. " I amsure that there is some allegory about it," Colia persisted.Aglaya grew angry, and called him "a silly boy." "If I did notrespect all women in your person," replied Colia, "and if my ownprinciples would permit it, I would soon prove to you, that Iknow how to answer such an insult!" But, in the end, Colia wentoff with the hedgehog in great delight, followed by KostiaLebedeff. Aglaya's annoyance was soon over, and seeing that Coliawas swinging the hedgehog's basket violently to and fro, shecalled out to him from the verandah, as if they had neverquarrelled: "Colia, dear, please take care not to drop him!"Colia appeared to have no grudge against her, either, for hestopped, and answered most cordially: "No, I will not drop him!Don't be afraid, Aglaya Ivanovna!" After which he went on hisway. Aglaya burst out laughing and ran up to her room, highlydelighted. Her good spirits lasted the whole day.
All this filled poor Lizabetha's mind with chaotic confusion.What on earth did it all mean? The most disturbing feature wasthe hedgehog. What was the symbolic signification of a hedgehog?What did they understand by it? What underlay it? Was it acryptic message?
Poor General Epanchin "put his foot in it" by answering the abovequestions in his own way. He said there was no cryptic message atall. As for the hedgehog, it was just a hedgehog, which meantnothing--unless, indeed, it was a pledge of friendship,--the signof forgetting of offences and so on. At all events, it was ajoke, and, of course, a most pardonable and innocent one.
We may as well remark that the general had guessed perfectlyaccurately.
The prince, returning home from the interview with Aglaya, hadsat gloomy and depressed for half an hour. He was almost indespair when Colia arrived with the hedgehog.
Then the sky cleared in a moment. The prince seemed to arise fromthe dead; he asked Colia all about it, made him repeat the storyover and over again, and laughed and shook hands with the boys inhis delight.
It seemed clear to the prince that Aglaya forgave him, and thathe might go there again this very evening; and in his eyes thatwas not only the main thing, but everything in the world.
"What children we are still, Colia!" he cried at last,enthusiastically,--"and how delightful it is that we can bechildren still!"
"Simply--my dear prince,--simply she is in love with you,--that'sthe whole of the secret!" replied Colia, with authority.
The prince blushed, but this time he said nothing. Colia burstout laughing and clapped his hands. A minute later the princelaughed too, and from this moment until the evening he looked athis watch every other minute to see how much time he had to waitbefore evening came.
But the situation was becoming rapidly critical.
Mrs. Epanchin could bear her suspense no longer, and in spite ofthe opposition of husband and daughters, she sent for Aglaya,determined to get a straightforward answer out of her, once forall.
"Otherwise," she observed hysterically, "I shall die beforeevening."
It was only now that everyone realized to what a ridiculous dead-lock the whole matter had been brought. Excepting feignedsurprise, indignation, laughter, and jeering--both at the princeand at everyone who asked her questions,--nothing could be gotout of Aglaya.
Lizabetha Prokofievna went to bed and only rose again in time fortea, when the prince might be expected.
She awaited him in trembling agitation; and when he at lastarrived she nearly went off into hysterics.
Muishkin himself came in very timidly. He seemed to feel his way,and looked in each person's eyes in a questioning way,--forAglaya was absent, which fact alarmed him at once.
This evening there were no strangers present--no one but theimmediate members of the family. Prince S. was still in town,occupied with the affairs of Evgenie Pavlovitch's uncle.
"I wish at least HE would come and say something!" complainedpoor Lizabetha Prokofievna.
The general sat still with a most preoccupied air. The sisterswere looking very serious and did not speak a word, and LizabethaProkofievna did not know how to commence the conversation.
At length she plunged into an energetic and hostile criticism ofrailways, and glared at the prince defiantly.
Alas Aglaya still did not come--and the prince was quite lost. Hehad the greatest difficulty in expressing his opinion thatrailways were most useful institutions,--and in the middle of hisspeech Adelaida laughed, which threw him into a still worse stateof confusion.
At this moment in marched Aglaya, as calm and collected as couldbe. She gave the prince a ceremonious bow and solemnly took up aprominent position near the big round table. She looked at theprince questioningly.
All present realized that the moment for the settlement ofperplexities had arrived.
"Did you get my hedgehog?" she inquired, firmly and almostangrily.
Yes, I got it," said the prince, blushing.
"Look here, Aglaya--" began the general.
"This--this is going beyond all limits!" said LizabethaProkofievna, suddenly alarmed.
"It is not in the least beyond all limits, mamma!" said herdaughter, firmly. "I sent the prince a hedgehog this morning, andI wish to hear his opinion of it. Go on, prince."
"What--what sort of opinion, Aglaya Ivanovna?"
"About the hedgehog."
"That is--I suppose you wish to know how I received the hedgehog,Aglaya Ivanovna,--or, I should say, how I regarded your sendinghim to me? In that case, I may tell you--in a word--that I--infact--"
He paused, breathless.
"Come--you haven't told us much!" said Aglaya, after waiting somefive seconds. "Very well, I am ready to drop the hedgehog, if youlike; but I am anxious to be able to clear up this accumulationof misunderstandings. Allow me to ask you, prince,--I wish tohear from you, personally--are you making me an offer, or not?"
"Gracious heavens!" exclaimed Lizabetha Prokofievna. The princestarted. The general stiffened in his chair; the sisters frowned.
"Don't deceive me now, prince--tell the truth. All these peoplepersecute me with astounding questions--about you. Is there anyground for all these questions, or not? Come!"
"I have not asked you to marry me yet, Aglaya Ivanovna," said theprince, becoming suddenly animated; "but you know yourself howmuch I love you and trust you."
"No--I asked you this--answer this! Do you intend to ask for myband, or not?"
"Yes--I do ask for it!" said the prince, more dead than alivenow.
There was a general stir in the room.
"No--no--my dear girl," began the general. "You cannot proceedlike this, Aglaya, if that's how the matter stands. It'simpossible. Prince, forgive it, my dear fellow, but--LizabethaProkofievna!"--he appealed to his spouse for help--"you mustreally--"
"Not I--not I! I retire from all responsibility," said LizabethaProkofievna, with a wave of the hand.
"Allow me to speak, please, mamma," said Aglaya. "I think I oughtto have something to say in the matter. An important moment of mydestiny is about to be decided"--(this is how Aglaya expressedherself)--"and I wish to find out how the matter stands, for myown sake, though I am glad you are all here. Allow me to ask you,prince, since you cherish those intentions, how you consider thatyou will provide for my happiness?"