The Idiot

by Fyodor Dostoyevsky

had never known him--if all this could but prove to be a dream.Perhaps it was a dream!

  Now and then he looked at Aglaya for five minutes at a time, withouttaking his eyes off her face; but his expression was very strange;he would gaze at her as though she were an object a couple of milesdistant, or as though he were looking at her portrait and not at herselfat all.

  “Why do you look at me like that, prince?” she asked suddenly, breakingoff her merry conversation and laughter with those about her. “I’mafraid of you! You look as though you were just going to put outyour hand and touch my face to see if it’s real! Doesn’t he, EvgeniePavlovitch--doesn’t he look like that?”

  The prince seemed surprised that he should have been addressed at all;he reflected a moment, but did not seem to take in what had been saidto him; at all events, he did not answer. But observing that she andthe others had begun to laugh, he too opened his mouth and laughed withthem.

  The laughter became general, and the young officer, who seemed aparticularly lively sort of person, simply shook with mirth.

  Aglaya suddenly whispered angrily to herself the word--

  “Idiot!”

  “My goodness--surely she is not in love with such a--surely she isn’tmad!” groaned Mrs. Epanchin, under her breath.

  “It’s all a joke, mamma; it’s just a joke like the ‘poorknight’--nothing more whatever, I assure you!” Alexandra whisperedin her ear. “She is chaffing him--making a fool of him, after herown private fashion, that’s all! But she carries it just a littletoo far--she is a regular little actress. How she frightened us justnow--didn’t she?--and all for a lark!”

  “Well, it’s lucky she has happened upon an idiot, then, that’s all Ican say!” whispered Lizabetha Prokofievna, who was somewhat comforted,however, by her daughter’s remark.

  The prince had heard himself referred to as “idiot,” and had shudderedat the moment; but his shudder, it so happened, was not caused by theword applied to him. The fact was that in the crowd, not far from wherehe was sitting, a pale familiar face, with curly black hair, and awell-known smile and expression, had flashed across his vision for amoment, and disappeared again. Very likely he had imagined it! Thereonly remained to him the impression of a strange smile, two eyes, anda bright green tie. Whether the man had disappeared among the crowd, orwhether he had turned towards the Vauxhall, the prince could not say.

  But a moment or two afterwards he began to glance keenly about him. Thatfirst vision might only too likely be the forerunner of a second; it wasalmost certain to be so. Surely he had not forgotten the possibilityof such a meeting when he came to the Vauxhall? True enough, he had notremarked where he was coming to when he set out with Aglaya; he had notbeen in a condition to remark anything at all.

  Had he been more careful to observe his companion, he would have seenthat for the last quarter of an hour Aglaya had also been glancingaround in apparent anxiety, as though she expected to see someone, orsomething particular, among the crowd of people. Now, at the moment whenhis own anxiety became so marked, her excitement also increased visibly,and when he looked about him, she did the same.

  The reason for their anxiety soon became apparent. From that very sideentrance to the Vauxhall, near which the prince and all the Epanchinparty were seated, there suddenly appeared quite a large knot ofpersons, at least a dozen.

  Heading this little band walked three ladies, two of whom wereremarkably lovely; and there was nothing surprising in the fact thatthey should have had a large troop of admirers following in their wake.

  But there was something in the appearance of both the ladies and theiradmirers which was peculiar, quite different for that of the rest of thepublic assembled around the orchestra.

  Nearly everyone observed the little band advancing, and all pretendednot to see or notice them, except a few young fellows who exchangedglances and smiled, saying something to one another in whispers.

  It was impossible to avoid noticing them, however, in reality, for theymade their presence only too conspicuous by laughing and talking loudly.It was to be supposed that some of them were more than half drunk,although they were well enough dressed, some even particularly well.There were one or two, however, who were very strange-looking creatures,with flushed faces and extraordinary clothes; some were military men;not all were quite young; one or two were middle-aged gentlemen ofdecidedly disagreeable appearance, men who are avoided in society likethe plague, decked out in large gold studs and rings, and magnificently“got up,” generally.

  Among our suburban resorts there are some which enjoy a speciallyhigh reputation for respectability and fashion; but the most carefulindividual is not absolutely exempt from the danger of a tile fallingsuddenly upon his head from his neighbour’s roof.

  Such a tile was about to descend upon the elegant and decorous publicnow assembled to hear the music.

  In order to pass from the Vauxhall to the band-stand, the visitor hasto descend two or three steps. Just at these steps the group paused, asthough it feared to proceed further; but very quickly one of the threeladies, who formed its apex, stepped forward into the charmed circle,followed by two members of her suite.

  One of these was a middle-aged man of very respectable appearance, butwith the stamp of parvenu upon him, a man whom nobody knew, and whoevidently knew nobody. The other follower was younger and far lessrespectable-looking.

  No one else followed the eccentric lady; but as she descended the stepsshe did not even look behind her, as though it were absolutely the sameto her whether anyone were following or not. She laughed and talkedloudly, however, just as before. She was dressed with great taste, butwith rather more magnificence than was needed for the occasion, perhaps.

  She walked past the orchestra, to where an open carriage was waiting,near the road.

  The prince had not seen _her_ for more than three months. All these dayssince his arrival from Petersburg he had intended to pay her a visit,but some mysterious presentiment had restrained him. He could notpicture to himself what impression this meeting with her would make uponhim, though he had often tried to imagine it, with fear and trembling.One fact was quite certain, and that was that the meeting would bepainful.

  Several times during the last six months he had recalled the effectwhich the first sight of this face had had upon him, when he only sawits portrait. He recollected well that even the portrait face had leftbut too painful an impression.

  That month in the provinces, when he had seen this woman nearly everyday, had affected him so deeply that he could not now look back uponit calmly. In the very look of this woman there was something whichtortured him. In conversation with Rogojin he had attributed thissensation to pity--immeasurable pity, and this was the truth. The sightof the portrait face alone had filled his heart full of the agony ofreal sympathy; and this feeling of sympathy, nay, of actual _suffering_,for her, had never left his heart since that hour, and was still in fullforce. Oh yes, and more powerful than ever!

  But the prince was not satisfied with what he had said to Rogojin. Onlyat this moment, when she suddenly made her appearance before him, didhe realize to the full the exact emotion which she called up in him, andwhich he had not described correctly to Rogojin.

  And, indeed, there were no words in which he could have expressed hishorror, yes, _horror_, for he was now fully convinced from his own privateknowledge of her, that the woman was mad.

  If, loving a woman above everything in the world, or at least having aforetaste of the possibility of such love for her, one were suddenly tobehold her on a chain, behind bars and under the lash of a keeper, onewould feel something like what the poor prince now felt.

  “What’s the matter?” asked Aglaya, in a whisper, giving his sleeve alittle tug.

  He turned his head towards her and glanced at her black and (for somereason) flashing eyes, tried to smile, and then, apparently forgettingher in an instant, turned to the right once more, and continued to watchthe startling apparition before him.

  Nastasia Phili
povna was at this moment passing the young ladies’ chairs.

  Evgenie Pavlovitch continued some apparently extremely funny andinteresting anecdote to Alexandra, speaking quickly and with muchanimation. The prince remembered that at this moment Aglaya remarked ina half-whisper:

  “_What_ a--”

  She did not finish her indefinite sentence; she restrained herself in amoment; but it was enough.

  Nastasia Philipovna, who up to now had been walking along as though shehad not noticed the Epanchin party, suddenly turned her head in theirdirection, as though she had just observed Evgenie Pavlovitch sittingthere for the first time.

  “Why, I declare, here he is!” she cried, stopping suddenly. “The man onecan’t find with all one’s messengers sent about the place, sitting justunder one’s nose, exactly where one never thought of looking! I thoughtyou were sure to be at your uncle’s by this time.”

  Evgenie Pavlovitch flushed up and looked angrily at Nastasia Philipovna,then turned his back on her.

  “What! don’t you know about it yet? He doesn’t know--imagine that! Why,he’s shot