The prince asked Lebedev directly and somewhat irritably what he thought of the general’s present state and why he was in such anxiety. In a few words he recounted that day’s scene for him.
“Everybody has his anxieties, Prince, and … especially in our strange and anxious age, sir; so it is, sir,” Lebedev answered with a certain dryness and fell silent, looking hurt, like a man whose expectations have been badly disappointed.
“What philosophy!” smiled the prince.
“Philosophy’s needed, sir, very much needed in our age, for practical application, sir, but it’s held in disdain, sir, that’s what. For my part, my much-esteemed Prince, though I used to be honored by your trustfulness towards me in a certain point, which is known to you, sir, but only to a certain degree, and by no means further than the circumstances that essentially concern that same point … I realize it and am not complaining in the least.”
“Lebedev, you seem to be angry about something?”
“Not at all, not in the least, my much-esteemed and most radiant Prince, not in the least!” Lebedev cried out ecstatically, putting his hand to his heart. “But, on the contrary, I precisely and immediately comprehended that, neither in worldly position, nor in development of mind and heart, nor in accumulated wealth, nor in my previous behavior, nor yet in learning am I in any way deserving of your honored and lofty trust, which far exceeds my hopes; and that if I may serve you, it is as a slave or a hired servant, not otherwise … I am not angry, but sad, sir.”
“Lukyan Timofeich, for pity’s sake!”
“Not otherwise! And so it is now, so it is in the present case! Meeting you and following you with my heart and thought, I said to myself: I’m unworthy of friendly communications, but in my quality as landlord I may, perhaps, receive orders in due time, by the expected date, so to speak, or at least notification in view of certain forthcoming and expected changes …”
As he uttered this, Lebedev simply riveted his sharp little eyes on the prince, who was staring at him in amazement; he was still hoping to satisfy his curiosity.
“I understand decidedly nothing,” the prince cried all but wrathfully, “and … you are a terrible intriguer!” He suddenly burst into the most genuine laughter.
Lebedev instantly laughed, too, and his brightened eyes showed at once that his hopes had now become clearer and even twice greater.
“And do you know what I shall tell you, Lukyan Timofeich? Only don’t be angry with me, but I’m surprised at your naïvety, and not only yours! You expect something from me with such naïvety, precisely now, at this moment, that I’m even abashed and ashamed before you, because I have nothing to satisfy you with; but I swear to you that there is decidedly nothing, if you can imagine that!”
The prince laughed again.
Lebedev assumed a dignified air. It is true that he was sometimes even too naïve and importunate in his curiosity; but at the same time he was a rather cunning and devious man, and on certain occasions even too insidiously taciturn; by constantly rebuffing him, the prince had almost prepared in him an enemy for himself. But the prince rebuffed him not because he despised him, but because the theme of his curiosity was a delicate one. Only a few days ago the prince had looked upon some of his dreams as upon a crime, but Lukyan Timofeich had taken the prince’s retorts as personal revulsion and suspicion towards himself, had gone away with a wounded heart, and was jealous not only of Kolya and Keller, but even of his own daughter, Vera Lukyanovna. Even at that very moment, he could have informed the prince of a certain piece of news interesting for him in the highest degree, and may have sincerely wished to, but he fell gloomily silent and did not inform him.
“In what, essentially, can I be of service to you, my much-esteemed Prince, since all the same you have now … summoned me?” he said finally, after some silence.
“It was, essentially, about the general,” the prince, who had lapsed into a moment’s thought, roused himself, “and … concerning that theft of yours, which you informed me about …”
“Concerning what, sir?”
“Well, so now it’s as if you don’t understand me! Oh, God, Lukyan Timofeich, what are all these roles of yours! The money, the money, the four hundred roubles you lost then, in your wallet, and came here to tell me about, that morning, before going to Petersburg—do you understand finally?”
“Ah, it’s about those four hundred roubles!” Lebedev drew out, as if he had only just realized. “Thank you, Prince, for your genuine concern; it is only too flattering for me, but … I found the money, sir, a long time ago.”
“Found it! Ah, thank God!”
“A most noble exclamation on your part, for four hundred roubles are a matter of no small importance for a poor man who lives by hard work, with a numerous family of orphans …”
“But I didn’t mean that! Of course, I’m also glad you found it,” the prince quickly corrected his slip, “but … how did you find it?”
“Extremely simply, sir. I found it under the chair on which the frock coat was hanging, which obviously means that the wallet slipped out of the pocket onto the floor.”
“Under the chair? That can’t be, you told me you searched in every corner; how could you have missed it in the most important place?”
“It’s a fact that I looked, sir! I remember very, very well that I looked there, sir! I went down on all fours, felt the place with my hands, moved the chair aside, not believing my own eyes: I saw there was nothing there, an empty and smooth space, like the palm of my hand, sir, and I went on feeling all the same. Such faintheartedness always repeats itself with a man when he wants very much to find something … in the case of a considerable and sad loss, sir: one sees that there’s nothing there, an empty space, and yet one looks fifteen times over.”
“Yes, granted; only how can it be, though?… I still don’t understand,” the prince muttered confusedly. “You say it wasn’t there before, that you searched in that spot, and suddenly it turned up there?”
“And suddenly it turned up there, sir!”
The prince gave Lebedev a strange look.
“And the general?” he asked suddenly.
“What about the general, sir?” Lebedev again did not understand.
“Ah, my God! I’m asking you, what did the general say when you found the wallet under the chair? Didn’t you look for it together before?”
“Together before, sir. But this time, I confess, sir, I said nothing and preferred not to tell him I found the wallet all by myself.”
“Wh … why so? Is the money all there?”
“I opened the wallet; the money was all there, even to the last rouble, sir.”
“You might at least have come and told me,” the prince observed pensively.
“I was afraid to disturb you personally, Prince, considering your personal and, perhaps, extraordinary, so to speak, impressions; besides, I myself made it look as if I hadn’t found anything. I opened the wallet, examined it, then closed it and put it back under the chair.”
“What on earth for?”
“Just so, sir; out of further curiosity, sir,” Lebedev suddenly tittered, rubbing his hands.
“So it’s lying there now, for the third day?”
“Oh, no, sir; it lay there only one day. You see, I partly wanted the general to find it, too, sir. Because if I finally found it, why shouldn’t the general also find an object sticking out from under the chair and, so to speak, striking the eye? I took that chair several times and moved it, so that the wallet wound up in full view, but the general never noticed it at all, and so it went on for the whole day. He’s obviously very absentminded now, and hard to make out; he talks, tells stories, laughs, guffaws, then suddenly gets terribly angry with me, I don’t know why, sir. As we were finally going out of the room, I purposely left the door open; he hesitated, was about to say something, probably afraid for the wallet with so much money in it, then suddenly became terribly angry and said nothing, sir; before we’d gone two steps down th
e street, he abandoned me and went the other way. We came together only that evening in the tavern.”
“But did you finally take the wallet from under the chair?”
“No, sir; that same night it disappeared from under the chair, sir.”
“So where is it now?”
“Here, sir,” Lebedev suddenly laughed, rising from the chair to his full height and looking pleasantly at the prince. “It suddenly turned up here, in the skirt of my own frock coat. Here, kindly look for yourself, feel it, sir.”
Indeed, it was as if a whole pouch had been formed in the left skirt of the frock coat, right in front, in full view, and by feeling it one could tell at once that it was a leather wallet, which had fallen there through a torn pocket.
“I took it out and looked, it’s all there, sir. I put it back and since yesterday morning I’ve been walking around like that, carrying it in my skirt, it even hits against my legs.”
“And you don’t notice it?”
“And I don’t notice it, heh, heh! And imagine, my much-esteemed Prince—though the subject is unworthy of such special attention from you—my pockets are always in good condition, and now suddenly, in one night, such a hole! I started examining it curiously—as if somebody had cut it with a penknife; it’s almost incredible, sir!”
“And … the general?”
“He was angry all day yesterday and today; he’s terribly displeased, sir; first he’s joyful and bacchic even to the point of flattery, then he’s sentimental to the point of tears, then he suddenly gets so angry that I even turn coward, by God; I’m not a military man after all, sir. Yesterday we’re sitting in the tavern, and, as if by accident, my skirt is exposed to view, a big bump; he looks askance, gets angry. He hasn’t looked me straight in the eye for a long time, sir, except when he’s very drunk or waxes sentimental; but yesterday a couple of times he gave me such a look that a chill ran down my spine. Anyhow, I intend to find the wallet tomorrow, but before tomorrow I’ll spend another little evening having fun with him.”
“But why do you torment him so?” cried the prince.
“I’m not tormenting him, Prince, I’m not,” Lebedev picked up hotly, “I love him sincerely, sir, and … I respect him; and now, believe it or not, sir, he’s become even dearer to me; I’ve come to appreciate him still more, sir!”
Lebedev said it all so seriously and sincerely that the prince even became indignant.
“You love him, yet you torment him so! For pity’s sake, by the fact alone that he put what you lost in full view like that, under the table and then in your frock coat, by that alone he shows you directly that he doesn’t want to dodge with you, but is simple-heartedly asking your forgiveness. Do you hear: he’s asking your forgiveness! That means he’s relying on the delicacy of your feelings; which means he trusts in your friendship for him. And you drive such a … a most honest man to such humiliation!”
“A most honest man, Prince, most honest!” Lebedev picked up, his eyes flashing. “And precisely you alone, most noble Prince, are able to speak such a just word! For that I am devoted to you even to the point of adoration, sir, though I am rotten with various vices! It’s decided! I shall find the wallet right now, at once, not tomorrow; here, I take it out before your eyes, sir; here it is; and all the money’s in it; here, take it, most noble Prince, take it and keep it till tomorrow. Tomorrow or the day after I’ll take it, sir; and you know, Prince, it obviously lay somewhere in my garden, under a stone, the first night it was lost, sir; what do you think?”
“Watch out, don’t tell him right to his face that you found the wallet. Let him simply see that there’s nothing in the skirt anymore, and he’ll understand.”
“Is that so, sir? Wouldn’t it be better to tell him I found it, sir, and pretend that till now I never guessed?”
“N-no,” the prince reflected, “n-no, it’s too late now; it’s more dangerous; really, you’d better not say it! And be gentle with him, but … don’t let it show too much, and … and … you know …”
“I know, Prince, I know—that is, I know that I probably won’t do it; for here one must have a heart like yours. And besides, he’s irritable and moody himself, he’s started treating me sometimes much too haughtily now; first he whimpers and wants to embrace me, then he suddenly begins to humiliate me and scornfully jeer at me; well, then I’ll deliberately stick my skirt out, heh, heh! Good-bye, Prince, for I am obviously keeping you and interfering, so to speak, in your most interesting feelings …”
“But, for God’s sake, keep it a secret!”
“With quiet steps, sir, with quiet steps!”
But though the matter was ended, the prince was left almost more preoccupied than before. He waited impatiently for tomorrow’s meeting with the general.
IV
THE APPOINTED HOUR was twelve, but the prince was quite unexpectedly late. Returning home, he found the general there waiting for him. He noticed at first glance that he was displeased, perhaps precisely at being forced to wait. Apologizing, the prince hastened to sit down, but somehow with a strange timidity, as if his visitor were made of porcelain and he was in constant fear of breaking him. He had never felt timid with the general before, and it had not occurred to him to feel timid. The prince soon discerned that this was now a completely different man than the day before: instead of perturbation and absentmindedness, he showed a sort of extraordinary restraint; one might have concluded that this was a man who was ultimately resolved on something. His composure, however, was more ostensible than real. But in any case the visitor was nobly casual, though with restrained dignity; at first he even treated the prince as if with an air of some condescension—precisely the way certain proud but unjustly offended people are sometimes nobly casual. He spoke gently, though not without a certain ruefulness in his speech.
“Your book, which I borrowed from you the other day,” he nodded significantly at the book he had brought with him, which lay on the table. “Many thanks.”
“Ah, yes; you read that article, General? How did you like it? Curious, isn’t it?” The prince was glad of the possibility of quickly beginning a somewhat extraneous conversation.
“Curious, perhaps, but crude and, of course, absurd. And maybe a lie at every step.”
The general spoke with aplomb and even drew the words out slightly.
“Ah, it’s such a simple-hearted story; the story of an old soldier, an eyewitness to the French occupation of Moscow; there are charming things in it. Besides, any memoirs by eyewitnesses are precious, whoever the eyewitness may be. Isn’t it true?”
“In the editor’s place, I wouldn’t have published it; as for memoirs by eyewitnesses in general, people sooner believe a crude liar, but an amusing one, than a man of dignity and merit. I know certain memoirs about the year twelve7 that … I’ve taken a decision, Prince, I am leaving this house—the house of Mr. Lebedev.”
The general gave the prince a meaningful look.
“You have your own quarters in Pavlovsk, at … at your daughter’s …” said the prince, not knowing what to say. He remembered that the general had come for advice about a matter of extreme importance on which his destiny depended.
“At my wife’s; in other words, my home and that of my daughter.”
“Forgive me, I …”
“I am leaving Lebedev’s house, my dear Prince, because I have broken with that man; I broke with him yesterday evening, with regret that it was not sooner. I demand respect, Prince, and I wish to receive it even from those persons to whom I have, so to speak, given my heart. I often give my heart to people, Prince, and I am almost always deceived. That man was unworthy of my gift.”
“There is much disorder in him,” the prince observed with restraint, “and certain traits … but amidst all that one notices a heart, and a cunning, but sometimes also amusing, mind.”
The refinement of the expressions and the deferential tone obviously flattered the general, though he still sometimes glanced around with unexpected mis
trust. But the prince’s tone was so natural and sincere that it was impossible to doubt it.
“That there are also good qualities in him,” the general picked up, “I was the first to proclaim, on the point of granting that individual my friendship. I do not need his home and his hospitality, because I have a family of my own. I do not justify my vices; I am intemperate; I drank with him, and now perhaps I lament it. But it was not for the drinking alone (forgive me, Prince, the crude candor of an irritated man), not for the drinking alone that I became connected with him. I was precisely charmed by his qualities, as you say. But all things have their limits, even qualities; and if he is suddenly bold enough to assure me to my face that in the year twelve, while still a child, he lost his left leg and buried it in the Vagankovsky Cemetery in Moscow, that goes over the line, that reveals disrespect, that shows insolence …”
“Maybe it was only a joke for the sake of a merry laugh.”
“I understand, sir. An innocent lie for the sake of a merry laugh, even a crude one, is not offensive to the human heart. A man may lie, if you wish, out of friendship alone, to give pleasure to his interlocutor; but if disrespect shows through it, if that disrespect is precisely meant to indicate that the connection is burdensome, then the only thing that remains for a noble man is to turn away and break off the connection, showing the offender his true place.”
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