The Idiot

“t’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.