The Idiot

by Fyodor Dostoyevsky

and scarcely took hereyes off him.

  “She looked at him, and stared and stared, and hung on every word hesaid,” said Lizabetha afterwards, to her husband, “and yet, tell herthat she loves him, and she is furious!”

  “What’s to be done? It’s fate,” said the general, shrugging hisshoulders, and, for a long while after, he continued to repeat: “It’sfate, it’s fate!”

  We may add that to a business man like General Epanchin the presentposition of affairs was most unsatisfactory. He hated the uncertainty inwhich they had been, perforce, left. However, he decided to say nomore about it, and merely to look on, and take his time and tune fromLizabetha Prokofievna.

  The happy state in which the family had spent the evening, as justrecorded, was not of very long duration. Next day Aglaya quarrelled withthe prince again, and so she continued to behave for the next few days.For whole hours at a time she ridiculed and chaffed the wretched man,and made him almost a laughing-stock.

  It is true that they used to sit in the little summer-house together foran hour or two at a time, very often, but it was observed that onthese occasions the prince would read the paper, or some book, aloud toAglaya.

  “Do you know,” Aglaya said to him once, interrupting the reading, “I’veremarked that you are dreadfully badly educated. You never know anythingthoroughly, if one asks you; neither anyone’s name, nor dates, nor abouttreaties and so on. It’s a great pity, you know!”

  “I told you I had not had much of an education,” replied the prince.

  “How am I to respect you, if that’s the case? Read on now. No--don’t!Stop reading!”

  And once more, that same evening, Aglaya mystified them all. Prince S.had returned, and Aglaya was particularly amiable to him, and asked agreat deal after Evgenie Pavlovitch. (Muishkin had not come in as yet.)

  Suddenly Prince S. hinted something about “a new and approachingchange in the family.” He was led to this remark by a communicationinadvertently made to him by Lizabetha Prokofievna, that Adelaida’smarriage must be postponed a little longer, in order that the twoweddings might come off together.

  It is impossible to describe Aglaya’s irritation. She flared up, andsaid some indignant words about “all these silly insinuations.” She added that “she had no intentions as yet of replacing anybody’smistress.”

  These words painfully impressed the whole party; but especially herparents. Lizabetha Prokofievna summoned a secret council of two, andinsisted upon the general’s demanding from the prince a full explanationof his relations with Nastasia Philipovna. The general argued that itwas only a whim of Aglaya’s; and that, had not Prince S. unfortunatelymade that remark, which had confused the child and made her blush, shenever would have said what she did; and that he was sure Aglaya knewwell that anything she might have heard of the prince and NastasiaPhilipovna was merely the fabrication of malicious tongues, and thatthe woman was going to marry Rogojin. He insisted that the prince hadnothing whatever to do with Nastasia Philipovna, so far as any liaisonwas concerned; and, if the truth were to be told about it, he added,never had had.

  Meanwhile nothing put the prince out, and he continued to be in theseventh heaven of bliss. Of course he could not fail to observe someimpatience and ill-temper in Aglaya now and then; but he believed insomething else, and nothing could now shake his conviction. Besides,Aglaya’s frowns never lasted long; they disappeared of themselves.

  Perhaps he was too easy in his mind. So thought Hippolyte, at allevents, who met him in the park one day.

  “Didn’t I tell you the truth now, when I said you were in love?” hesaid, coming up to Muishkin of his own accord, and stopping him.

  The prince gave him his hand and congratulated him upon “looking sowell.”

  Hippolyte himself seemed to be hopeful about his state of health, as isoften the case with consumptives.

  He had approached the prince with the intention of talking sarcasticallyabout his happy expression of face, but very soon forgot his intentionand began to talk about himself. He began complaining about everything,disconnectedly and endlessly, as was his wont.

  “You wouldn’t believe,” he concluded, “how irritating they all arethere. They are such wretchedly small, vain, egotistical, _commonplace_people! Would you believe it, they invited me there under the expresscondition that I should die quickly, and they are all as wild aspossible with me for not having died yet, and for being, on thecontrary, a good deal better! Isn’t it a comedy? I don’t mind bettingthat you don’t believe me!”

  The prince said nothing.

  “I sometimes think of coming over to you again,” said Hippolyte,carelessly. “So you _don’t_ think them capable of inviting a man onthe condition that he is to look sharp and die?”

  “I certainly thought they invited you with quite other views.”

  “Ho, ho! you are not nearly so simple as they try to make you out! Thisis not the time for it, or I would tell you a thing or two about thatbeauty, Gania, and his hopes. You are being undermined, pitilesslyundermined, and--and it is really melancholy to see you so calm aboutit. But alas! it’s your nature--you can’t help it!”

  “My word! what a thing to be melancholy about! Why, do you think Ishould be any happier if I were to feel disturbed about the excavationsyou tell me of?”

  “It is better to be unhappy and know the worst, than to be happy in afool’s paradise! I suppose you don’t believe that you have a rival inthat quarter?”

  “Your insinuations as to rivalry are rather cynical, Hippolyte. I’msorry to say I have no right to answer you! As for Gania, I put it toyou, _can_ any man have a happy mind after passing through what he has hadto suffer? I think that is the best way to look at it. He willchange yet, he has lots of time before him, and life is rich;besides--besides...” the prince hesitated. “As to being undermined, Idon’t know what in the world you are driving at, Hippolyte. I think wehad better drop the subject!”

  “Very well, we’ll drop it for a while. You can’t look at anything butin your exalted, generous way. You must put out your finger and touch athing before you’ll believe it, eh? Ha! ha! ha! I suppose you despise medreadfully, prince, eh? What do you think?”

  “Why? Because you have suffered more than we have?”

  “No; because I am unworthy of my sufferings, if you like!”

  “Whoever _can_ suffer is worthy to suffer, I should think. Aglaya Ivanovnawished to see you, after she had read your confession, but--”

  “She postponed the pleasure--I see--I quite understand!” said Hippolyte,hurriedly, as though he wished to banish the subject. “I hear--theytell me--that you read her all that nonsense aloud? Stupid bosh itwas--written in delirium. And I can’t understand how anyone can be so--Iwon’t say _cruel_, because the word would be humiliating to myself, butwe’ll say childishly vain and revengeful, as to _reproach_ me with thisconfession, and use it as a weapon against me. Don’t be afraid, I’m notreferring to yourself.”

  “Oh, but I’m sorry you repudiate the confession, Hippolyte--it issincere; and, do you know, even the absurd parts of it--and these aremany” (here Hippolyte frowned savagely) “are, as it were, redeemed bysuffering--for it must have cost you something to admit what you theresay--great torture, perhaps, for all I know. Your motive must havebeen a very noble one all through. Whatever may have appeared to thecontrary, I give you my word, I see this more plainly every day. I donot judge you; I merely say this to have it off my mind, and I am onlysorry that I did not say it all _then_--”

  Hippolyte flushed hotly. He had thought at first that the princewas “humbugging” him; but on looking at his face he saw that he wasabsolutely serious, and had no thought of any deception. Hippolytebeamed with gratification.

  “And yet I must die,” he said, and almost added: “a man like me!

  “And imagine how that Gania annoys me! He has developed the idea--orpretends to believe--that in all probability three or four others whoheard my confession will die before I do. There’s an idea for you--andall this
by way of _consoling_ me! Ha! ha! ha! In the first place theyhaven’t died yet; and in the second, if they _did_ die--all of them--whatwould be the satisfaction to me in that? He judges me by himself. But hegoes further, he actually pitches into me because, as he declares, ‘anydecent fellow’ would die quietly, and that ‘all this’ is mere egotismon my part. He doesn’t see what refinement of egotism it is on his ownpart--and at the same time, what ox-like coarseness! Have you ever readof the death of one Stepan Gleboff, in the eighteenth century? I read ofit yesterday by chance.”

  “Who was he?”

  “He was impaled on a stake in the time of Peter.”

  “I know, I know! He lay there fifteen hours in the hard frost, and diedwith the most extraordinary fortitude--I know--what of him?”

  “Only that God gives that sort of dying to some, and not to others.Perhaps you think, though, that I could not die like Gleboff?”

  “Not at all!” said the prince, blushing. “I was only going to say thatyou--not that you could not be like Gleboff--but that you would havebeen more like--”

  “I guess what you mean--I