Switzerland, from a Mr. Salaskin, and he acquaints me with the fact that I
am entitled to a very large inheritance. This letter—”
The prince pulled a letter out of his pocket.
“Is he raving?” said the general. “Are we really in a mad-house?”
There was silence for a moment. Then Ptitsin spoke.
“I think you said, prince, that your letter was from Salaskin? Salaskin is a
very eminent man, indeed, in his own world; he is a wonderfully clever
solicitor, and if he really tells you this, I think you may be pretty sure that
he is right. It so happens, luckily, that I know his handwriting, for I have
lately had business with him. If you would allow me to see it, I should
perhaps be able to tell you.”
The prince held out the letter silently, but with a shaking hand.
“What, what?” said the general, much agitated.
“What’s all this? Is he really heir to anything?”
All present concentrated their attention upon Ptitsin, reading the prince’s
letter. The general curiosity had received a new fillip. Ferdishenko could
not sit still. Rogojin fixed his eyes first on the prince, and then on Ptitsin,
and then back again; he was extremely agitated. Lebedeff could not stand it.
He crept up and read over Ptitsin’s shoulder, with the air of a naughty boy
who expects a box on the ear every moment for his indiscretion.
XVI.
“It’s good business,” said Ptitsin, at last, folding the letter and handing it
back to the prince. “You will receive, without the slightest trouble, by the
last will and testament of your aunt, a very large sum of money indeed.”
“Impossible!” cried the general, starting up as if he had been shot.
Ptitsin explained, for the benefit of the company, that the prince’s aunt
had died five months since. He had never known her, but she was his
mother’s own sister, the daughter of a Moscow merchant, one Paparchin,
who had died a bankrupt. But the elder brother of this same Paparchin, had
been an eminent and very rich merchant. A year since it had so happened
that his only two sons had both died within the same month. This sad event
had so affected the old man that he, too, had died very shortly after. He was
a widower, and had no relations left, excepting the prince’s aunt, a poor
woman living on charity, who was herself at the point of death from dropsy;
but who had time, before she died, to set Salaskin to work to find her
nephew, and to make her will bequeathing her newly-acquired fortune to
him.
It appeared that neither the prince, nor the doctor with whom he lived in
Switzerland, had thought of waiting for further communications; but the
prince had started straight away with Salaskin’s letter in his pocket.
“One thing I may tell you, for certain,” concluded Ptitsin, addressing the
prince, “that there is no question about the authenticity of this matter.
Anything that Salaskin writes you as regards your unquestionable right to
this inheritance, you may look upon as so much money in your pocket. I
congratulate you, prince; you may receive a million and a half of roubles,
perhaps more; I don’t know. All I do know is that Paparchin was a very rich
merchant indeed.”
“Hurrah!” cried Lebedeff, in a drunken voice. “Hurrah for the last of the
Muishkins!”
“My goodness me! and I gave him twenty-five roubles this morning as
though he were a beggar,” blurted out the general, half senseless with
amazement. “Well, I congratulate you, I congratulate you!” And the general
rose from his seat and solemnly embraced the prince. All came forward
with congratulations; even those of Rogojin’s party who had retreated into
the next room, now crept softly back to look on. For the moment even
Nastasia Philipovna was forgotten.
But gradually the consciousness crept back into the minds of each one
present that the prince had just made her an offer of marriage. The situation
had, therefore, become three times as fantastic as before.
Totski sat and shrugged his shoulders, bewildered. He was the only guest
left sitting at this time; the others had thronged round the table in disorder,
and were all talking at once.
It was generally agreed, afterwards, in recalling that evening, that from
this moment Nastasia Philipovna seemed entirely to lose her senses. She
continued to sit still in her place, looking around at her guests with a
strange, bewildered expression, as though she were trying to collect her
thoughts, and could not. Then she suddenly turned to the prince, and glared
at him with frowning brows; but this only lasted one moment. Perhaps it
suddenly struck her that all this was a jest, but his face seemed to reassure
her. She reflected, and smiled again, vaguely.
“So I am really a princess,” she whispered to herself, ironically, and
glancing accidentally at Daria Alexeyevna’s face, she burst out laughing.
“Ha, ha, ha!” she cried, “this is an unexpected climax, after all. I didn’t
expect this. What are you all standing up for, gentlemen? Sit down;
congratulate me and the prince! Ferdishenko, just step out and order some
more champagne, will you? Katia, Pasha,” she added suddenly, seeing the
servants at the door, “come here! I’m going to be married, did you hear? To
the prince. He has a million and a half of roubles; he is Prince Muishkin,
and has asked me to marry him. Here, prince, come and sit by me; and here
comes the wine. Now then, ladies and gentlemen, where are your
congratulations?”
“Hurrah!” cried a number of voices. A rush was made for the wine by
Rogojin’s followers, though, even among them, there seemed some sort of
realization that the situation had changed. Rogojin stood and looked on,
with an incredulous smile, screwing up one side of his mouth.
“Prince, my dear fellow, do remember what you are about,” said the
general, approaching Muishkin, and pulling him by the coat sleeve.
Nastasia Philipovna overheard the remark, and burst out laughing.
“No, no, general!” she cried. “You had better look out! I am the princess
now, you know. The prince won’t let you insult me. Afanasy Ivanovitch,
why don’t you congratulate me? I shall be able to sit at table with your new
wife, now. Aha! you see what I gain by marrying a prince! A million and a
half, and a prince, and an idiot into the bargain, they say. What better could
I wish for? Life is only just about to commence for me in earnest. Rogojin,
you are a little too late. Away with your paper parcel! I’m going to marry
the prince; I’m richer than you are now.”
But Rogojin understood how things were tending, at last. An
inexpressibly painful expression came over his face. He wrung his hands; a
groan made its way up from the depths of his soul.
“Surrender her, for God’s sake!” he said to the prince.
All around burst out laughing.
“What? Surrender her to you?” cried Daria Alexeyevna. “To a fellow
who comes and bargains for a wife like a moujik! The prince wishes to
marry her, and you—”
“So do I, so do I! This moment, if I could! I’d give every farthing I have
to do it.”
“You drunken moujik,” said Daria Alexeyevna, once more. “You ought to
be kicked out of the place.”
The laughter became louder than ever.
“Do you hear, prince?” said Nastasia Philipovna. “Do you hear how this
moujik of a fellow goes on bargaining for your bride?”
“He is drunk,” said the prince, quietly, “and he loves you very much.”
“Won’t you be ashamed, afterwards, to reflect that your wife very nearly
ran away with Rogojin?”
“Oh, you were raving, you were in a fever; you are still half delirious.”
“And won’t you be ashamed when they tell you, afterwards, that your
wife lived at Totski’s expense so many years?”
“No; I shall not be ashamed of that. You did not so live by your own
will.”
“And you’ll never reproach me with it?”
“Never.”
“Take care, don’t commit yourself for a whole lifetime.”
“Nastasia Philipovna.” said the prince, quietly, and with deep emotion, “I
said before that I shall esteem your consent to be my wife as a great honour
to myself, and shall consider that it is you who will honour me, not I you,
by our marriage. You laughed at these words, and others around us laughed
as well; I heard them. Very likely I expressed myself funnily, and I may
have looked funny, but, for all that, I believe I understand where honour
lies, and what I said was but the literal truth. You were about to ruin
yourself just now, irrevocably; you would never have forgiven yourself for
so doing afterwards; and yet, you are absolutely blameless. It is impossible
that your life should be altogether ruined at your age. What matter that
Rogojin came bargaining here, and that Gavrila Ardalionovitch would have
deceived you if he could? Why do you continually remind us of these facts?
I assure you once more that very few could find it in them to act as you
have acted this day. As for your wish to go with Rogojin, that was simply
the idea of a delirious and suffering brain. You are still quite feverish; you
ought to be in bed, not here. You know quite well that if you had gone with
Rogojin, you would have become a washer-woman next day, rather than
stay with him. You are proud, Nastasia Philipovna, and perhaps you have
really suffered so much that you imagine yourself to be a desperately guilty
woman. You require a great deal of petting and looking after, Nastasia
Philipovna, and I will do this. I saw your portrait this morning, and it
seemed quite a familiar face to me; it seemed to me that the portrait-face
was calling to me for help. I—I shall respect you all my life, Nastasia
Philipovna,” concluded the prince, as though suddenly recollecting himself,
and blushing to think of the sort of company before whom he had said all
this.
Ptitsin bowed his head and looked at the ground, overcome by a mixture
of feelings. Totski muttered to himself: “He may be an idiot, but he knows
that flattery is the best road to success here.”
The prince observed Gania’s eyes flashing at him, as though they would
gladly annihilate him then and there.
“That’s a kind-hearted man, if you like,” said Daria Alexeyevna, whose
wrath was quickly evaporating.
“A refined man, but—lost,” murmured the general.
Totski took his hat and rose to go. He and the general exchanged glances,
making a private arrangement, thereby, to leave the house together.
“Thank you, prince; no one has ever spoken to me like that before,”
began Nastasia Philipovna. “Men have always bargained for me, before
this; and not a single respectable man has ever proposed to marry me. Do
you hear, Afanasy Ivanovitch? What do you think of what the prince has
just been saying? It was almost immodest, wasn’t it? You, Rogojin, wait a
moment, don’t go yet! I see you don’t intend to move however. Perhaps I
may go with you yet. Where did you mean to take me to?”
“To Ekaterinhof,” replied Lebedeff. Rogojin simply stood staring, with
trembling lips, not daring to believe his ears. He was stunned, as though
from a blow on the head.
“What are you thinking of, my dear Nastasia?” said Daria Alexeyevna in
alarm. “What are you saying?” “You are not going mad, are you?”
Nastasia Philipovna burst out laughing and jumped up from the sofa.
“You thought I should accept this good child’s invitation to ruin him, did
you?” she cried. “That’s Totski’s way, not mine. He’s fond of children.
Come along, Rogojin, get your money ready! We won’t talk about marrying
just at this moment, but let’s see the money at all events. Come! I may not
marry you, either. I don’t know. I suppose you thought you’d keep the
money, if I did! Ha, ha, ha! nonsense! I have no sense of shame left. I tell
you I have been Totski’s concubine. Prince, you must marry Aglaya
Ivanovna, not Nastasia Philipovna, or this fellow Ferdishenko will always
be pointing the finger of scorn at you. You aren’t afraid, I know; but I
should always be afraid that I had ruined you, and that you would reproach
me for it. As for what you say about my doing you honour by marrying you
—well, Totski can tell you all about that. You had your eye on Aglaya,
Gania, you know you had; and you might have married her if you had not
come bargaining. You are all like this. You should choose, once for all,
between disreputable women, and respectable ones, or you are sure to get
mixed. Look at the general, how he’s staring at me!”
“This is too horrible,” said the general, starting to his feet. All were
standing up now. Nastasia was absolutely beside herself.
“I am very proud, in spite of what I am,” she continued. “You called me
‘perfection’ just now, prince. A nice sort of perfection to throw up a prince
and a million and a half of roubles in order to be able to boast of the fact
afterwards! What sort of a wife should I make for you, after all I have said?
Afanasy Ivanovitch, do you observe I have really and truly thrown away a
million of roubles? And you thought that I should consider your wretched
seventy-five thousand, with Gania thrown in for a husband, a paradise of
bliss! Take your seventy-five thousand back, sir; you did not reach the
hundred thousand. Rogojin cut a better dash than you did. I’ll console
Gania myself; I have an idea about that. But now I must be off! I’ve been in
prison for ten years. I’m free at last! Well, Rogojin, what are you waiting
for? Let’s get ready and go.”
“Come along!” shouted Rogojin, beside himself with joy. “Hey! all of
you fellows! Wine! Round with it! Fill the glasses!”
“Get away!” he shouted frantically, observing that Daria Alexeyevna was
approaching to protest against Nastasia’s conduct. “Get away, she’s mine,
everything’s mine! She’s a queen, get away!”
He was panting with ecstasy. He walked round and round Nastasia
Philipovna and told everybody to “keep their distance.”
All the Rogojin company were now collected in the drawing-room; some
were drinking, some laughed and talked: all were in the highest and wildest
spirits. Ferdishenko was doing his best to unite himself to them; the general
and Totski again made an attempt to go. Gania, too stood hat in hand ready
to go; but seemed to be unable to tear his eyes away from the scene before
him.
“Get out, keep your distance!” shouted Rogojin.
“What are you shouting about there!” cried Nastasia “I’m not yours yet. I
may kick you out for all you know I haven’t taken your money yet; there it
all is on the table. Here, give me over that packet! Is there a hundred
thousand roubles in that one packet? Pfu! what abominable stuff it looks!
Oh! nonsense, Daria Alexeyevna; you surely did not expect me to ruin
him?” (indicating the prince). “Fancy him nursing me! Why, he needs a
nurse himself! The general, there, will be his nurse now, you’ll see. Here,
prince, look here! Your bride is accepting money. What a disreputable
woman she must be! And you wished to marry her! What are you crying
about? Is it a bitter dose? Never mind, you shall laugh yet. Trust to time.”
(In spite of these words there were two large tears rolling down Nastasia’s
own cheeks.) “It’s far better to think twice of it now than afterwards. Oh!
you mustn’t cry like that! There’s Katia crying, too. What is it, Katia, dear?
I shall leave you and Pasha a lot of things, I’ve laid them out for you
already; but good-bye, now. I made an honest girl like you serve a low
woman like myself. It’s better so, prince, it is indeed. You’d begin to
despise me afterwards—we should never be happy. Oh! you needn’t swear,
prince, I shan’t believe you, you know. How foolish it would be, too! No,
no; we’d better say good-bye and part friends. I am a bit of a dreamer
myself, and I used to dream of you once. Very often during those five years
down at his estate I used to dream and think, and I always imagined just
such a good, honest, foolish fellow as you, one who should come and say to
me: ‘You are an innocent woman, Nastasia Philipovna, and I adore you.’ I
dreamt of you often. I used to think so much down there that I nearly went
mad; and then this fellow here would come down. He would stay a couple
of months out of the twelve, and disgrace and insult and deprave me, and
then go; so that I longed to drown myself in the pond a thousand times over;
but I did not dare do it. I hadn’t the heart, and now—well, are you ready,
Rogojin?”
“Ready—keep your distance, all of you!”
“We’re all ready,” said several of his friends. “The troikas [Sledges
drawn by three horses abreast.] are at the door, bells and all.”
Nastasia Philipovna seized the packet of bank-notes.
“Gania, I have an idea. I wish to recompense you—why should you lose
all? Rogojin, would he crawl for three roubles as far as the Vassiliostrof?”
“Oh, wouldn’t he just!”
“Well, look here, Gania. I wish to look into your heart once more, for the
last time. You’ve worried me for the last three months—now it’s my turn.
Do you see this packet? It contains a hundred thousand roubles. Now, I’m
going to throw it into the fire, here—before all these witnesses. As soon as
the fire catches hold of it, you put your hands into the fire and pick it out—
without gloves, you know. You must have bare hands, and you must turn
your sleeves up. Pull it out, I say, and it’s all yours. You may burn your
fingers a little, of course; but then it’s a hundred thousand roubles,
remember—it won’t take you long to lay hold of it and snatch it out. I shall
so much admire you if you put your hands into the fire for my money. All
here present may be witnesses that the whole packet of money is yours if
you get it out. If you don’t get it out, it shall burn. I will let no one else
come; away—get away, all of you—it’s my money! Rogojin has bought me
with it. Is it my money, Rogojin?”
“Yes, my queen; it’s your own money, my joy.”
“Get away then, all of you. I shall do as I like with my own—don’t
meddle! Ferdishenko, make up the fire, quick!”
“Nastasia Philipovna, I can’t; my hands won’t obey me,” said
Ferdishenko, astounded and helpless with bewilderment.
“Nonsense,” cried Nastasia Philipovna, seizing the poker and raking a
couple of logs together. No sooner did a tongue of flame burst out than she
threw the packet of notes upon it.
Everyone gasped; some even crossed themselves.
“She’s mad—she’s mad!” was the cry.
“Oughtn’t-oughtn’t we to secure her?” asked the general of Ptitsin, in a
whisper; “or shall we send for the authorities? Why, she’s mad, isn’t she—
isn’t she, eh?”
“N-no, I hardly think she is actually mad,” whispered Ptitsin, who was as
white as his handkerchief, and trembling like a leaf. He could not take his
eyes off the smouldering packet.
“She’s mad surely, isn’t she?” the general appealed to Totski.
“I told you she wasn’t an ordinary woman,” replied the latter, who was as
pale as anyone.
“Oh, but, positively, you know—a hundred thousand roubles!”
“Goodness gracious! good heavens!” came from all quarters of the room.
All now crowded round the fire and thronged to see what was going on;
everyone lamented and gave vent to exclamations of horror and woe. Some
jumped up on chairs in order to get a better view. Daria Alexeyevna ran into
the next room and whispered excitedly to Katia and Pasha. The beautiful
German disappeared altogether.
“My lady! my sovereign!” lamented Lebedeff, falling on his knees before
Nastasia Philipovna, and stretching out his hands towards the fire; “it’s a
hundred thousand roubles, it is indeed, I packed it up myself, I saw the
money! My queen, let me get into the fire after it—say the word—I’ll put
my whole grey head into the fire for it! I have a poor lame wife and thirteen
children. My father died of starvation last week. Nastasia Philipovna,
Nastasia Philipovna!” The wretched little man wept, and groaned, and
crawled towards the fire.
“Away, out of the way!” cried Nastasia. “Make room, all of you! Gania,
what are you standing there for? Don’t stand on ceremony. Put in your
hand! There’s your whole happiness smouldering away, look! Quick!”
But Gania had borne too much that day, and especially this evening, and
he was not prepared for this last, quite unexpected trial.
The crowd parted on each side of him and he was left face to face with
Nastasia Philipovna, three paces from her. She stood by the fire and waited,
with her intent gaze fixed upon him.
Gania stood before her, in his evening clothes, holding his white gloves
and hat in his hand, speechless and motionless, with arms folded and eyes
fixed on the fire.
A silly, meaningless smile played on his white, death-like lips. He could
not take his eyes off the smouldering packet; but it appeared that something
new had come to birth in his soul—as though he were vowing to himself
that he would bear this trial. He did not move from his place. In a few
seconds it became evident to all that he did not intend to rescue the money.
“Hey! look at it, it’ll burn in another minute or two!” cried Nastasia
Philipovna. “You’ll hang yourself afterwards, you know, if it does! I’m not
joking.”
The fire, choked between a couple of smouldering pieces of wood, had
died down for the first few moments after the packet was thrown upon it.
But a little tongue of fire now began to lick the paper from below, and soon,
gathering courage, mounted the sides of the parcel, and crept around it. In
another moment, the whole of it burst into flames, and the exclamations of
woe and horror were redoubled.
“Nastasia Philipovna!” lamented Lebedeff again, straining towards the
fireplace; but Rogojin dragged him away, and pushed him to the rear once
more.
The whole of Rogojin’s being was concentrated in one rapturous gaze of
ecstasy. He could not take his eyes off Nastasia. He stood drinking her in, as
it were. He was in the seventh heaven of delight.
“Oh, what a queen she is!” he ejaculated, every other minute, throwing
out the remark for anyone who liked to catch it. “That’s the sort of woman
for me! Which of you would think of doing a thing like that, you
blackguards, eh?” he yelled. He was hopelessly and wildly beside himself
with ecstasy.
The prince watched the whole scene, silent and dejected.
“I’ll pull it out with my teeth for one thousand,” said Ferdishenko.
“So would I,” said another, from behind, “with pleasure. Devil take the
thing!” he added, in a tempest of despair, “it will all be burnt up in a minute
—It’s burning, it’s burning!”
“It’s burning, it’s burning!” cried all, thronging nearer and nearer to the
fire in their excitement.
“Gania, don’t be a fool! I tell you for the last time.”
“Get on, quick!” shrieked Ferdishenko, rushing wildly up to Gania, and
trying to drag him to the fire by the sleeve of his coat. “Get it, you dummy,
it’s burning away fast! Oh—damn the thing!”
Gania hurled Ferdishenko from him; then he turned sharp round and
made for the door. But he had not gone a couple of steps when he tottered
and fell to the ground.
“He’s fainted!” the cry went round.
“And the money’s burning still,” Lebedeff lamented.
“Burning for nothing,” shouted others.
“Katia-Pasha! Bring him some water!” cried Nastasia Philipovna. Then
she took the tongs and fished out the packet.
Nearly the whole of the outer covering was burned away, but it was soon
evident that the contents were hardly touched. The packet had been
wrapped in a threefold covering of newspaper, and the notes were safe. All
breathed more freely.
“Some dirty little thousand or so may be touched,” said Lebedeff,
immensely relieved, “but there’s very little harm done, after all.”
“It’s all his—the whole packet is for him, do you hear—all of you?” cried
Nastasia Philipovna, placing the packet by the side of Gania. “He restrained
himself, and didn’t go after it; so his self-respect is greater than his thirst for
money. All right—he’ll come to directly—he must have the packet or he’ll
cut his throat afterwards. There! He’s coming to himself. General, Totski,
all of you, did you hear me? The money is all Gania’s. I give it to him, fully
conscious of my action, as recompense for—well, for anything he thinks
best. Tell him so. Let it lie here beside him. Off we go, Rogojin! Goodbye,
prince. I have seen a man for the first time in my life. Goodbye, Afanasy
Ivanovitch—and thanks!”
The Rogojin gang followed their leader and Nastasia Philipovna to the
entrance-hall, laughing and shouting and whistling.
In the hall the servants were waiting, and handed her her fur cloak.
Martha, the cook, ran in from the kitchen. Nastasia kissed them all round.
“Are you really throwing us all over, little mother? Where, where are you
going to? And on your birthday, too!” cried the four girls, crying over her
and kissing her hands.
“I am going out into the world, Katia; perhaps I shall be a laundress. I
don’t know. No more of Afanasy Ivanovitch, anyhow. Give him my
respects. Don’t think badly of me, girls.”
The prince hurried down to the front gate where the party were settling
into the troikas, all the bells tinkling a merry accompaniment the while. The
general caught him up on the stairs:
“Prince, prince!” he cried, seizing hold of his arm, “recollect yourself!
Drop her, prince! You see what sort of a woman she is. I am speaking to
you like a father.”
The prince glanced at him, but said nothing. He shook himself free, and
rushed on downstairs.
The general was just in time to see the prince take the first sledge he
could get, and, giving the order to Ekaterinhof, start off in pursuit of the
troikas. Then the general’s fine grey horse dragged that worthy home, with
some new thoughts, and some new hopes and calculations developing in his
brain, and with the pearls in his pocket, for he had not forgotten to bring
them along with him, being a man of business. Amid his new thoughts and
ideas there came, once or twice, the image of Nastasia Philipovna. The
general sighed.
“I’m sorry, really sorry,” he muttered. “She’s a ruined woman. Mad!
mad! However, the prince is not for Nastasia Philipovna now,—perhaps it’s
as well.”
Two more of Nastasia’s guests, who walked a short distance together,
indulged in high moral sentiments of a similar nature.
“Do you know, Totski, this is all very like what they say goes on among
the Japanese?” said Ptitsin. “The offended party there, they say, marches off
to his insulter and says to him, ‘You insulted me, so I have come to rip
myself open before your eyes;’ and with these words he does actually rip
his stomach open before his enemy, and considers, doubtless, that he is
having all possible and necessary satisfaction and revenge. There are
strange characters in the world, sir!”
“H’m! and you think there was something of this sort here, do you? Dear
me—a very remarkable comparison, you know! But you must have
observed, my dear Ptitsin, that I did all I possibly could. I could do no more
than I did. And you must admit that there are some rare qualities in this
woman. I felt I could not speak in that Bedlam, or I should have been
tempted to cry out, when she reproached me, that she herself was my best
justification. Such a woman could make anyone forget all reason—
everything! Even that moujik, Rogojin, you saw, brought her a hundred
thousand roubles! Of course, all that happened tonight was ephemeral,
fantastic, unseemly—yet it lacked neither colour nor originality. My God!
What might not have been made of such a character combined with such
beauty! Yet in spite of all efforts—in spite of all education, even—all those
gifts are wasted! She is an uncut diamond…. I have often said so.”
And Afanasy Ivanovitch heaved a deep sigh.
