白痴 英文版 The Idiot
陀思妥耶夫斯基 Fyodor Dostoyevsky
The Idiot VII. Page 2
The two old gentlemen looked quite alarmed. The old general(Epanchin's chief) sat and glared at the prince in severedispleasure. The colonel sat immovable. Even the German poet grewa little pale, though he wore his usual artificial smile as helooked around to see what the others would do.
In point of fact it is quite possible that the matter would haveended in a very commonplace and natural way in a few minutes. Theundoubtedly astonished, but now more collected, General Epanchinhad several times endeavoured to interrupt the prince, and nothaving succeeded he was now preparing to take firmer and morevigorous measures to attain his end. In another minute or two hewould probably have made up his mind to lead the prince quietlyout of the room, on the plea of his being ill (and it was morethan likely that the general was right in his belief that theprince WAS actually ill), but it so happened that destiny hadsomething different in store.
At the beginning of the evening, when the prince first came intothe room, he had sat down as far as possible from the Chinesevase which Aglaya had spoken of the day before.
Will it be believed that, after Aglaya's alarming words, anineradicable conviction had taken possession of his mind that,however he might try to avoid this vase next day, he mustcertainly break it? But so it was.
During the evening other impressions began to awaken in his mind,as we have seen, and he forgot his presentiment. But whenPavlicheff was mentioned and the general introduced him to IvanPetrovitch, he had changed his place, and went over nearer to thetable; when, it so happened, he took the chair nearest to thebeautiful vase, which stood on a pedestal behind him, just abouton a level with his elbow.
As he spoke his last words he had risen suddenly from his seatwith a wave of his arm, and there was a general cry of horror.
The huge vase swayed backwards and forwards; it seemed to beuncertain whether or no to topple over on to the head of one ofthe old men, but eventually determined to go the other way, andcame crashing over towards the German poet, who darted out of theway in terror.
The crash, the cry, the sight of the fragments of valuable chinacovering the carpet, the alarm of the company--what all thismeant to the poor prince it would be difficult to convey to themind of the reader, or for him to imagine.
But one very curious fact was that all the shame and vexation andmortification which he felt over the accident were less powerfulthan the deep impression of the almost supernatural truth of hispremonition. He stood still in alarm--in almost superstitiousalarm, for a moment; then all mists seemed to clear away from hiseyes; he was conscious of nothing but light and joy and ecstasy;his breath came and went; but the moment passed. Thank God it wasnot that! He drew a long breath and looked around.
For some minutes he did not seem to comprehend the excitementaround him; that is, he comprehended it and saw everything, buthe stood aside, as it were, like someone invisible in a fairytale, as though he had nothing to do with what was going on,though it pleased him to take an interest in it.
He saw them gather up the broken bits of china; he heard the loudtalking of the guests and observed how pale Aglaya looked, andhow very strangely she was gazing at him. There was no hatred inher expression, and no anger whatever. It was full of alarm forhim, and sympathy and affection, while she looked around at theothers with flashing, angry eyes. His heart filled with a sweetpain as he gazed at her.
At length he observed, to his amazement, that all had taken theirseats again, and were laughing and talking as though nothing hadhappened. Another minute and the laughter grew louder--they werelaughing at him, at his dumb stupor--laughing kindly and merrily.Several of them spoke to him, and spoke so kindly and cordially,especially Lizabetha Prokofievna--she was saying the kindestpossible things to him.
Suddenly he became aware that General Epanchin was tapping him onthe shoulder; Ivan Petrovitch was laughing too, but still morekind and sympathizing was the old dignitary. He took the princeby the hand and pressed it warmly; then he patted it, and quietlyurged him to recollect himself--speaking to him exactly as hewould have spoken to a little frightened child, which pleased theprince wonderfully; and next seated him beside himself.
The prince gazed into his face with pleasure, but still seemed tohave no power to speak. His breath failed him. The old man's facepleased him greatly.
"Do you really forgive me?" he said at last. "And--and LizabethaProkofievna too?" The laugh increased, tears came into theprince's eyes, he could not believe in all this kindness--he wasenchanted.
"The vase certainly was a very beautiful one. I remember it herefor fifteen years--yes, quite that!" remarked Ivan Petrovitch.
"Oh, what a dreadful calamity! A wretched vase smashed, and a manhalf dead with remorse about it," said Lizabetha Prokofievna,loudly. "What made you so dreadfully startled, LefNicolaievitch?" she added, a little timidly. "Come, my dear boy!cheer up. You really alarm me, taking the accident so to heart."
"Do you forgive me all--ALL, besides the vase, I mean?" said theprince, rising from his seat once more, but the old gentlemancaught his hand and drew him down again--he seemed unwilling tolet him go.
"C'est tres-curieux et c'est tres-serieux," he whispered acrossthe table to Ivan Petrovitch, rather loudly. Probably the princeheard him.
"So that I have not offended any of you? You will not believe howhappy I am to be able to think so. It is as it should be. As if ICOULD offend anyone here! I should offend you again by evensuggesting such a thing."
"Calm yourself, my dear fellow. You are exaggerating again; youreally have no occasion to be so grateful to us. It is a feelingwhich does you great credit, but an exaggeration, for all that."
"I am not exactly thanking you, I am only feeling a growingadmiration for you--it makes me happy to look at you. I dare sayI am speaking very foolishly, but I must speak--I must explain,if it be out of nothing better than self-respect."
All he said and did was abrupt, confused, feverish--very likelythe words he spoke, as often as not, were not those he wished tosay. He seemed to inquire whether he MIGHT speak. His eyeslighted on Princess Bielokonski.
"All right, my friend, talk away, talk away!" she remarked. "Onlydon't lose your breath; you were in such a hurry when you began,and look what you've come to now! Don't be afraid of speaking--all these ladies and gentlemen have seen far stranger people thanyourself; you don't astonish THEM. You are nothing out-of-the-wayremarkable, you know. You've done nothing but break a vase, andgive us all a fright."
The prince listened, smiling.
"Wasn't it you," he said, suddenly turning to the old gentleman,"who saved the student Porkunoff and a clerk called Shoabrin frombeing sent to Siberia, two or three months since?"
The old dignitary blushed a little, and murmured that the princehad better not excite himself further.
"And I have heard of YOU," continued the prince, addressing IvanPetrovitch, "that when some of your villagers were burned out yougave them wood to build up their houses again, though they wereno longer your serfs and had behaved badly towards you."
"Oh, come, come! You are exaggerating," said Ivan Petrovitch,beaming with satisfaction, all the same. He was right, however,in this instance, for the report had reached the prince's ears inan incorrect form.
"And you, princess," he went on, addressing Princess Bielokonski,"was it not you who received me in Moscow, six months since, askindly as though I had been your own son, in response to a letterfrom Lizabetha Prokofievna; and gave me one piece of advice,again as to your own son, which I shall never forget? Do youremember?"
"What are you making such a fuss about?" said the old lady, withannoyance. "You are a good fellow, but very silly. One gives youa halfpenny, and you are as grateful as though one had saved yourlife. You think this is praiseworthy on your part, but it is not--it is not, indeed."
She seemed to be very angry, but suddenly burst out laughing,quite good-humouredly.
Lizabetha Prokofievna's face brightened up, too; so did that ofGeneral Epanchin.
"I told you Lef Nicolaievitch was a man--a man--if only he wouldnot be in such a hurry, as the princess remarked," said thelatter, with delight.
Aglaya alone seemed sad and depressed; her face was flushed,perhaps with indignation.
"He really is very charming," whispered the old dignitary to IvanPetrovitch.
"I came into this room with anguish in my heart," continued theprince, with ever-growing agitation, speaking quicker andquicker, and with increasing strangeness. "I--I was afraid of youall, and afraid of myself. I was most afraid of myself. When Ireturned to Petersburg, I promised myself to make a point ofseeing our greatest men, and members of our oldest families--theold families like my own. I am now among princes like myself, amI not? I wished to know you, and it was necessary, very, verynecessary. I had always heard so much that was evil said of youall--more evil than good; as to how small and petty were yourinterests, how absurd your habits, how shallow your education,and so on. There is so much written and said about you! I camehere today with anxious curiosity; I wished to see for myselfand form my own convictions as to whether it were true that thewhole of this upper stratum of Russian society is WORTHLESS, hasoutlived its time, has existed too long, and is only fit to die--and yet is dying with petty, spiteful warring against that whichis destined to supersede it and take its place--hindering theComing Men, and knowing not that itself is in a dying condition.I did not fully believe in this view even before, for there neverwas such a class among us--excepting perhaps at court, byaccident--or by uniform; but now there is not even that, isthere? It has vanished, has it not?"
"No, not a bit of it," said Ivan Petrovitch, with a sarcasticlaugh.
"Good Lord, he's off again!" said Princess Bielokonski,impatiently.
"Laissez-le dire! He is trembling all over," said the old man, ina warning whisper.
The prince certainly was beside himself.
"Well? What have I seen?" he continued. "I have seen men ofgraceful simplicity of intellect; I have seen an old man who isnot above speaking kindly and even LISTENING to a boy likemyself; I see before me persons who can understand, who canforgive--kind, good Russian hearts--hearts almost as kind andcordial as I met abroad. Imagine how delighted I must have been,and how surprised! Oh, let me express this feeling! I have sooften heard, and I have even believed, that in society there wasnothing but empty forms, and that reality had vanished; but I nowsee for myself that this can never be the case HERE, among us--itmay be the order elsewhere, but not in Russia. Surely you are notall Jesuits and deceivers! I heard Prince N.'s story just now.Was it not simple-minded, spontaneous humour? Could such wordscome from the lips of a man who is dead?--a man whose heart andtalents are dried up? Could dead men and women have treated me sokindly as you have all been treating me to-day? Is there notmaterial for the future in all this--for hope? Can such peoplefail to UNDERSTAND? Can such men fall away from reality?"
"Once more let us beg you to be calm, my dear boy. We'll talk ofall this another time--I shall do so with the greatest pleasure,for one," said the old dignitary, with a smile.
Ivan Petrovitch grunted and twisted round in his chair. GeneralEpanchin moved nervously. The latter's chief had started aconversation with the wife of the dignitary, and took no noticewhatever of the prince, but the old lady very often glanced athim, and listened to what he was saying.
"No, I had better speak," continued the prince, with a newoutburst of feverish emotion, and turning towards the old manwith an air of confidential trustfulness." Yesterday, AglayaIvanovna forbade me to talk, and even specified the particularsubjects I must not touch upon--she knows well enough that I amodd when I get upon these matters. I am nearly twenty-seven yearsold, and yet I know I am little better than a child. I have noright to express my ideas, and said so long ago. Only in Moscow,with Rogojin, did I ever speak absolutely freely! He and I readPushkin together--all his works. Rogojin knew nothing ofPushkin, had not even heard his name. I am always afraid ofspoiling a great Thought or Idea by my absurd manner. I have noeloquence, I know. I always make the wrong gestures--inappropriate gestures--and therefore I degrade the Thought, andraise a laugh instead of doing my subject justice. I have nosense of proportion either, and that is the chief thing. I knowit would be much better if I were always to sit still and saynothing. When I do so, I appear to be quite a sensible sort of aperson, and what's more, I think about things. But now I mustspeak; it is better that I should. I began to speak because youlooked so kindly at me; you have such a beautiful face. Ipromised Aglaya Ivanovna yesterday that I would not speak all theevening."
"Really?" said the old man, smiling.
"But, at times, I can't help thinking that I am. wrong in feelingso about it, you know. Sincerity is more important thanelocution, isn't it?"
"Sometimes."
"I want to explain all to you--everything--everything! I know youthink me Utopian, don't you--an idealist? Oh, no! I'm not,indeed--my ideas are all so simple. You don't believe me? You aresmiling. Do you know, I am sometimes very wicked--for I lose myfaith? This evening as I came here, I thought to myself, 'Whatshall I talk about? How am I to begin, so that they may be ableto understand partially, at all events?' How afraid I was--dreadfully afraid! And yet, how COULD I be afraid--was it notshameful of me? Was I afraid of finding a bottomless abyss ofempty selfishness? Ah! that's why I am so happy at this moment,because I find there is no bottomless abyss at all--but good,healthy material, full of life.
"It is not such a very dreadful circumstance that we are oddpeople, is it? For we really are odd, you know--careless,reckless, easily wearied of anything. We don't look thoroughlyinto matters--don't care to understand things. We are all likethis--you and I, and all of them! Why, here are you, now--you arenot a bit angry with me for calling you odd,' are you? And, ifso, surely there is good material in you? Do you know, Isometimes think it is a good thing to be odd. We can forgive oneanother more easily, and be more humble. No one can begin bybeing perfect--there is much one cannot understand in life atfirst. In order to attain to perfection, one must begin byfailing to understand much. And if we take in knowledge tooquickly, we very likely are not taking it in at all. I say allthis to you--you who by this time understand so much--anddoubtless have failed to understand so much, also. I am notafraid of you any longer. You are not angry that a mere boyshould say such words to you, are you? Of course not! You knowhow to forget and to forgive. You are laughing, Ivan Petrovitch?You think I am a champion of other classes of people--that I amTHEIR advocate, a democrat, and an orator of Equality?" Theprince laughed hysterically; he had several times burst intothese little, short nervous laughs. "Oh, no--it is for you, formyself, and for all of us together, that I am alarmed. I am aprince of an old family myself, and I am sitting among my peers;and I am talking like this in the hope of saving us all; in thehope that our class will not disappear altogether--into thedarkness--unguessing its danger--blaming everything around it,and losing ground every day. Why should we disappear and giveplace to others, when we may still, if we choose, remain in thefront rank and lead the battle? Let us be servants, that we maybecome lords in due season!"
He tried to get upon his feet again, but the old man stillrestrained him, gazing at him with increasing perturbation as hewent on.
"Listen--I know it is best not to speak! It is best simply togive a good example--simply to begin the work. I have done this--I have begun, and--and--oh! CAN anyone be unhappy, really? Oh!what does grief matter--what does misfortune matter, if one knowshow to be happy? Do you know, I cannot understand how anyone canpass by a green tree, and not feel happy only to look at it! Howanyone can talk to a man and not feel happy in loving him! Oh, itis my own fault that I cannot express myself well enough! Butthere are lovely things at every step I take--things which eventhe most miserable man must recognize as beautiful. Look at alittle child--look at God's day-dawn--look at the grass growing--look at the eyes that love you, as they gaze back into youreyes!"
He had risen, and was speaking standing up. The old gentleman waslooking at him now in unconcealed alarm. Lizabetha Prokofievnawrung her hands. "Oh, my God!" she cried. She had guessed thestate of the case before anyone else.
Aglaya rushed quickly up to him, and was just in time to receivehim in her arms, and to hear with dread and horror that awful,wild cry as he fell writhing to the ground.
There he lay on the carpet, and someone quickly placed a cushionunder his head.
No one had expected this.
In a quarter of an hour or so Prince N. and Evgenie Pavlovitchand the old dignitary were hard at work endeavouring to restorethe harmony of the evening, but it was of no avail, and very soonafter the guests separated and went their ways.
A great deal of sympathy was expressed; a considerable amount ofadvice was volunteered; Ivan Petrovitch expressed his opinionthat the young man was "a Slavophile, or something of that sort";but that it was not a dangerous development. The old dignitarysaid nothing.
burst out laughing,quite good-humouredly. horror!
True enough, most of the guests, next day and the day after, werenot in very good humour. Ivan Petrovitch was a little offended,but not seriously so. General Epanchin's chief was rather cooltowards him for some while after the occurrence. The olddignitary, as patron of the family, took the opportunity ofmurmuring some kind of admonition to the general, and added, inflattering terms, that he was most interested in Aglaya's future.He was a man who really did possess a kind heart, although hisinterest in the prince, in the earlier part of the evening, wasdue, among other reasons, to the latter's connection withNastasia Philipovna, according to popular report. He had heard agood deal of this story here and there, and was greatlyinterested in it, so much so that he longed to ask furtherquestions about it.
Princess Bielokonski, as she drove away on this eventful evening,took occasion to say to Lizabetha Prokofievna:
"Well--he's a good match--and a bad one; and if you want myopinion, more bad than good. You can see for yourself the man isan invalid."
Lizabetha therefore decided that the prince was impossible as ahusband for Aglaya; and during the ensuing night she made a vowthat never while she lived should he marry Aglaya. With thisresolve firmly impressed upon her mind, she awoke next day; butduring the morning, after her early lunch, she fell into acondition of remarkable inconsistency.
In reply to a very guarded question of her sisters', Aglaya hadanswered coldly, but exceedingly haughtily:
"I have never given him my word at all, nor have I ever countedhim as my future husband--never in my life. He is just as littleto me as all the rest."
Lizabetha Prokofievna suddenly flared up.
"I did not expect that of you, Aglaya," she said. "He is animpossible husband for you,--I know it; and thank God that weagree upon that point; but I did not expect to hear such wordsfrom you. I thought I should hear a very different tone from you.I would have turned out everyone who was in the room last nightand kept him,--that's the sort of man he is, in my opinion!"
Here she suddenly paused, afraid of what she had just said. Butshe little knew how unfair she was to her daughter at thatmoment. It was all settled in Aglaya's mind. She was only waitingfor the hour that would bring the matter to a final climax; andevery hint, every careless probing of her wound, did but furtherlacerate her heart.