IT was late now, nearly half-past two, and the prince did not find General Epanchin at home. He left a card, and determined to look up Colia, who had a room at a small hotel near. Colia was not in, but he was informed that he might be back shortly, and had left word that if he were not in by half-past three it was to be understood that he had gone to Pavlofsk to General Epanchin's, and would dine there. The prince decided to wait till half-past three, and ordered some dinner. At half-past three there was no sign of Colia. The prince waited until four o'clock, and then strolled off mechanically wherever his feet should carry him.
In early summer there are often magnificent days in St. Petersburg--bright, hot and still. This happened to be such a day.
For some time the prince wandered about without aim or object. He did not know the town well. He stopped to look about him on bridges, at street corners. He entered a confectioner's shop to rest, once. He was in a state of nervous excitement and perturbation; he noticed nothing and no one; and he felt a craving for solitude, to be alone with his thoughts and his emotions, and to give himself up to them passively. He loathed the idea of trying to answer the questions that would rise up in his heart and mind. "I am not to blame for all this," he thought to himself, half unconsciously.
Towards six o'clock he found himself at the station of the Tsarsko-Selski railway.
He was tired of solitude now; a new rush of feeling took hold of him, and a flood of light chased away the gloom, for a moment, from his soul. He took a ticket to Pavlofsk, and determined to get there as fast as he could, but something stopped him; a reality, and not a fantasy, as he was inclined to think it. He was about to take his place in a carriage, when he suddenly threw away his ticket and came out again, disturbed and thoughtful. A few moments later, in the street, he recalled something that had bothered him all the afternoon. He caught himself engaged in a strange occupation which he now recollected he had taken up at odd moments for the last few hours--it was looking about all around him for something, he did not know what. He had forgotten it for a while, half an hour or so, and now, suddenly, the uneasy search had recommenced.
But he had hardly become conscious of this curious phenomenon, when another recollection suddenly swam through his brain, interesting him for the moment, exceedingly. He remembered that the last time he had been engaged in looking around him for the unknown something, he was standing before a cutler's shop, in the window of which were exposed certain goods for sale. He was extremely anxious now to discover whether this shop and these goods really existed, or whether the whole thing had been a hallucination.
He felt in a very curious condition today, a condition similar to that which had preceded his fits in bygone years.
He remembered that at such times he had been particularly absentminded, and could not discriminate between objects and persons unless he concentrated special attention upon them.
He remembered seeing something in the window marked at sixty copecks. Therefore, if the shop existed and if this object were really in the window, it would prove that he had been able to concentrate his attention on this article at a moment when, as a general rule, his absence of mind would have been too great to admit of any such concentration; in fact, very shortly after he had left the railway station in such a state of agitation.
So he walked back looking about him for the shop, and his heart beat with intolerable impatience. Ah! here was the very shop, and there was the article marked 60 cop." "Of course, it's sixty copecks," he thought, and certainly worth no more." This idea amused him and he laughed.
But it was a hysterical laugh; he was feeling terribly oppressed. He remembered clearly that just here, standing before this window, he had suddenly turned round, just as earlier in the day he had turned and found the dreadful eyes of Rogojin fixed upon him. Convinced, therefore, that in this respect at all events he had been under no delusion, he left the shop and went on.
This must be thought out; it was clear that there had been no hallucination at the station then, either; something had actually happened to him, on both occasions; there was no doubt of it. But again a loathing for all mental exertion overmastered him; he would not think it out now, he would put it off and think of something else. He remembered that during his epileptic fits, or rather immediately preceding them, he had always experienced a moment or two when his whole heart, and mind, and body seemed to wake up to vigour and light; when he became filled with joy and hope, and all his anxieties seemed to be swept away for ever; these moments were but presentiments, as it were, of the one final second (it was never more than a second) in which the fit came upon him. That second, of course, was inexpressible. When his attack was over, and the prince reflected on his symptoms, he used to say to himself: "These moments, short as they are, when I feel such extreme consciousness of myself, and consequently more of life than at other times, are due only to the disease--to the sudden rupture of normal conditions. Therefore they are not really a higher kind of life, but a lower." This reasoning, however, seemed to end in a paradox, and lead to the further consideration:--"What matter though it be only disease, an abnormal tension of the brain, if when I recall and analyze the moment, it seems to have been one of harmony and beauty in the highest degree--an instant of deepest sensation, overflowing with unbounded joy and rapture, ecstatic devotion, and completest life?" Vague though this sounds, it was perfectly comprehensible to Muishkin, though he knew that it was but a feeble expression of his sensations.
That there was, indeed, beauty and harmony in those abnormal moments, that they really contained the highest synthesis of life, he could not doubt, nor even admit the possibility of doubt. He felt that they were not analogous to the fantastic and unreal dreams due to intoxication by hashish, opium or wine. Of that he could judge, when the attack was over. These instants were characterized--to define it in a word--by an intense quickening of the sense of personality. Since, in the last conscious moment preceding the attack, he could say to himself, with full understanding of his words: "I would give my whole life for this one instant," then doubtless to him it really was worth a lifetime. For the rest, he thought the dialectical part of his argument of little worth; he saw only too clearly that the result of these ecstatic moments was stupefaction, mental darkness, idiocy. No argument was possible on that point. His conclusion, his estimate of the "moment," doubtless contained some error, yet the reality of the sensation troubled him. What's more unanswerable than a fact? And this fact had occurred. The prince had confessed unreservedly to himself that the feeling of intense beatitude in that crowded moment made the moment worth a lifetime. "I feel then," he said one day to Rogojin in Moscow, "I feel then as if I understood those amazing words--'There shall be no more time.'" And he added with a smile: "No doubt the epileptic Mahomet refers to that same moment when he says that he visited all the dwellings of Allah, in less time than was needed to empty his pitcher of water." Yes, he had often met Rogojin in Moscow, and many were the subjects they discussed. "He told me I had been a brother to him," thought the prince. "He said so today, for the first time."
He was sitting in the Summer Garden on a seat under a tree, and his mind dwelt on the matter. It was about seven o'clock, and the place was empty. The stifling atmosphere foretold a storm, and the prince felt a certain charm in the contemplative mood which possessed him. He found pleasure, too, in gazing at the exterior objects around him. All the time he was trying to forget some thing, to escape from some idea that haunted him; but melancholy thoughts came back, though he would so willingly have escaped from them. He remembered suddenly how he had been talking to the waiter, while he dined, about a recently committed murder which the whole town was discussing, and as he thought of it something strange came over him. He was seized all at once by a violent desire, almost a temptation, against which he strove in vain.
He jumped up and walked off as fast as he could towards the "Petersburg Side." [One of the quarters of St. Petersburg.] He had asked someone, a little while before, to show him which was the Petersburg Side, on the banks of the Neva. He had not gone there, however; and he knew very well that it was of no use to go now, for he would certainly not find Lebedeff's relation at home. He had the address, but she must certainly have gone to Pavlofsk, or Colia would have let him know. If he were to go now, it would merely be out of curiosity, but a sudden, new idea had come into his head.
However, it was something to move on and know where he was going. A minute later he was still moving on, but without knowing anything. He could no longer think out his new idea. He tried to take an interest in all he saw; in the sky, in the Neva. He spoke to some children he met. He felt his epileptic condition becoming more and more developed. The evening was very close; thunder was heard some way off.
The prince was haunted all that day by the face of Lebedeff's nephew whom he had seen for the first time that morning, just as one is haunted at times by some persistent musical refrain. By a curious association of ideas, the young man always appeared as the murderer of whom Lebedeff had spoken when introducing him to Muishkin. Yes, he had read something about the murder, and that quite recently. Since he came to Russia, he had heard many stories of this kind, and was interested in them. His conversation with the waiter, an hour ago, chanced to be on the subject of this murder of the Zemarins, and the latter had agreed with him about it. He thought of the waiter again, and decided that he was no fool, but a steady, intelligent man: though, said he to himself, "God knows what he may really be; in a country with which one is unfamiliar it is difficult to understand the people one meets." He was beginning to have a passionate faith in the Russian soul, however, and what discoveries he had made in the last six months, what unexpected discoveries! But every soul is a mystery, and depths of mystery lie in the soul of a Russian. He had been intimate with Rogojin, for example, and a brotherly friendship had sprung up between them--yet did he really know him? What chaos and ugliness fills the world at times! What a self-satisfied rascal is that nephew of Lebedeff's! "But what am I thinking," continued the prince to himself. "Can he really have committed that crime? Did he kill those six persons? I seem to be confusing things ... how strange it all is.... My head goes round... And Lebedeff's daughter--how sympathetic and charming her face was as she held the child in her arms! What an innocent look and child-like laugh she had! It is curious that I had forgotten her until now. I expect Lebedeff adores her--and I really believe, when I think of it, that as sure as two and two make four, he is fond of that nephew, too!"
Well, why should he judge them so hastily! Could he really say what they were, after one short visit? Even Lebedeff seemed an enigma today. Did he expect to find him so? He had never seen him like that before. Lebedeff and the Comtesse du Barry! Good Heavens! If Rogojin should really kill someone, it would not, at any rate, be such a senseless, chaotic affair. A knife made to a special pattern, and six people killed in a kind of delirium. But Rogojin also had a knife made to a special pattern. Can it be that Rogojin wishes to murder anyone? The prince began to tremble violently. "It is a crime on my part to imagine anything so base, with such cynical frankness." His face reddened with shame at the thought; and then there came across him as in a flash the memory of the incidents at the Pavlofsk station, and at the other station in the morning; and the question asked him by Rogojin about THE EYES and Rogojin's cross, that he was even now wearing; and the benediction of Rogojin's mother; and his embrace on the darkened staircase--that last supreme renunciation--and now, to find himself full of this new "idea," staring into shop-windows, and looking round for things--how base he was!
Despair overmastered his soul; he would not go on, he would go back to his hotel; he even turned and went the other way; but a moment after he changed his mind again and went on in the old direction.
Why, here he was on the Petersburg Side already, quite close to the house! Where was his "idea"? He was marching along without it now. Yes, his malady was coming back, it was clear enough; all this gloom and heaviness, all these "ideas," were nothing more nor less than a fit coming on; perhaps he would have a fit this very day.
But just now all the gloom and darkness had fled, his heart felt full of joy and hope, there was no such thing as doubt. And yes, he hadn't seen her for so long; he really must see her. He wished he could meet Rogojin; he would take his hand, and they would go to her together. His heart was pure, he was no rival of Parfen's. Tomorrow, he would go and tell him that he had seen her. Why, he had only come for the sole purpose of seeing her, all the way from Moscow! Perhaps she might be here still, who knows? She might not have gone away to Pavlofsk yet.
Yes, all this must be put straight and above-board, there must be no more passionate renouncements, such as Rogojin's. It must all be clear as day. Cannot Rogojin's soul bear the light? He said he did not love her with sympathy and pity; true, he added that "your pity is greater than my love," but he was not quite fair on himself there. Kin! Rogojin reading a book--wasn't that sympathy beginning? Did it not show that he comprehended his relations with her? And his story of waiting day and night for her forgiveness? That didn't look quite like passion alone.
And as to her face, could it inspire nothing but passion? Could her face inspire passion at all now? Oh, it inspired suffering, grief, overwhelming grief of the soul! A poignant, agonizing memory swept over the prince's heart.
Yes, agonizing. He remembered how he had suffered that first day when he thought he observed in her the symptoms of madness. He had almost fallen into despair. How could he have lost his hold upon her when she ran away from him to Rogojin? He ought to have run after her himself, rather than wait for news as he had done. Can Rogojin have failed to observe, up to now, that she is mad? Rogojin attributes her strangeness to other causes, to passion! What insane jealousy! What was it he had hinted at in that suggestion of his? The prince suddenly blushed, and shuddered to his very heart.
But why recall all this? There was insanity on both sides. For him, the prince, to love this woman with passion, was unthinkable. It would be cruel and inhuman. Yes. Rogojin is not fair to himself; he has a large heart; he has aptitude for sympathy. When he learns the truth, and finds what a pitiable being is this injured, broken, half-insane creature, he will forgive her all the torment she has caused him. He will become her slave, her brother, her friend. Compassion will teach even Rogojin, it will show him how to reason. Compassion is the chief law of human existence. Oh, how guilty he felt towards Rogojin! And, for a few warm, hasty words spoken in Moscow, Parfen had called him "brother," while he--but no, this was delirium! It would all come right! That gloomy Parfen had implied that his faith was waning; he must suffer dreadfully. He said he liked to look at that picture; it was not that he liked it, but he felt the need of looking at it. Rogojin was not merely a passionate soul; he was a fighter. He was fighting for the restoration of his dying faith. He must have something to hold on to and believe, and someone to believe in. What a strange picture that of Holbein's is! Why, this is the street, and here's the house, No. 16.
The prince rang the bell, and asked for Nastasia Philipovna. The lady of the house came out, and stated that Nastasia had gone to stay with Daria Alexeyevna at Pavlofsk, and might be there some days.
Madame Filisoff was a little woman of forty, with a cunning face, and crafty, piercing eyes. When, with an air of mystery, she asked her visitor's name, he refused at first to answer, but in a moment he changed his mind, and left strict instructions that it should be given to Nastasia Philipovna. The urgency of his request seemed to impress Madame Filisoff, and she put on a knowing expression, as if to say, "You need not be afraid, I quite understand." The prince's name evidently was a great surprise to her. He stood and looked absently at her for a moment, then turned, and took the road back to his hotel. But he went away not as he came. A great change had suddenly come over him. He went blindly forward; his knees shook under him; he was tormented by "ideas"; his lips were blue, and trembled with a feeble, meaningless smile. His demon was upon him once more.
Was there something in the whole aspect of the man, today, sufficient to justify the prince's terror, and the awful suspicions of his demon? Something seen, but indescribable, which filled him with dreadful presentiments? Yes, he was convinced of it--convinced of what? (Oh, how mean and hideous of him to feel this conviction, this presentiment! How he blamed himself for it!) "Speak if you dare, and tell me, what is the presentiment?" he repeated to himself, over and over again. "Put it into words, speak out clearly and distinctly. Oh, miserable coward that I am!" The prince flushed with shame for his own baseness. "How shall I ever look this man in the face again? My God, what a day! And what a nightmare, what a nightmare!"
There was a moment, during this long, wretched walk back from the Petersburg Side, when the prince felt an irresistible desire to go straight to Rogojin's, wait for him, embrace him with tears of shame and contrition, and tell him of his distrust, and finish with it--once for all.
But here he was back at his hotel.
How often during the day he had thought of this hotel with loathing--its corridor, its rooms, its stairs. How he had dreaded coming back to it, for some reason.
"What a regular old woman I am today," he had said to himself each time, with annoyance. "I believe in every foolish presentiment that comes into my head."
He stopped for a moment at the door; a great flush of shame came over him. "I am a coward, a wretched coward," he said, and moved forward again; but once more he paused.
Among all the incidents of the day, one recurred to his mind to the exclusion of the rest; although now that his self-control was regained, and he was no longer under the influence of a nightmare, he was able to think of it calmly. It concerned the knife on Rogojin's table. "Why should not Rogojin have as many knives on his table as he chooses?" thought the prince, wondering at his suspicions, as he had done when he found himself looking into the cutler's window. "What could it have to do with me?" he said to himself again, and stopped as if rooted to the ground by a kind of paralysis of limb such as attacks people under the stress of some humiliating recollection.
The doorway was dark and gloomy at any time; but just at this moment it was rendered doubly so by the fact that the thunder- storm had just broken, and the rain was coming down in torrents.
And in the semi-darkness the prince distinguished a man standing close to the stairs, apparently waiting.
There was nothing particularly significant in the fact that a man was standing back in the doorway, waiting to come out or go upstairs; but the prince felt an irresistible conviction that he knew this man, and that it was Rogojin. The man moved on up the stairs; a moment later the prince passed up them, too. His heart froze within him. "In a minute or two I shall know all," he thought.
The staircase led to the first and second corridors of the hotel, along which lay the guests' bedrooms. As is often the case in Petersburg houses, it was narrow and very dark, and turned around a massive stone column.
On the first landing, which was as small as the necessary turn of the stairs allowed, there was a niche in the column, about half a yard wide, and in this niche the prince felt convinced that a man stood concealed. He thought he could distinguish a figure standing there. He would pass by quickly and not look. He took a step forward, but could bear the uncertainty no longer and turned his head.
The eyes--the same two eyes--met his! The man concealed in the niche had also taken a step forward. For one second they stood face to face.
Suddenly the prince caught the man by the shoulder and twisted him round towards the light, so that he might see his face more clearly.
Rogojin's eyes flashed, and a smile of insanity distorted his countenance. His right hand was raised, and something glittered in it. The prince did not think of trying to stop it. All he could remember afterwards was that he seemed to have called out:
"Parfen! I won't believe it."
Next moment something appeared to burst open before him: a wonderful inner light illuminated his soul. This lasted perhaps half a second, yet he distinctly remembered hearing the beginning of the wail, the strange, dreadful wail, which burst from his lips of its own accord, and which no effort of will on his part could suppress.
Next moment he was absolutely unconscious; black darkness blotted out everything.
He had fallen in an epileptic fit.
.. . . . . . .
As is well known, these fits occur instantaneously. The face, especially the eyes, become terribly disfigured, convulsions seize the limbs, a terrible cry breaks from the sufferer, a wail from which everything human seems to be blotted out, so that it is impossible to believe that the man who has just fallen is the same who emitted the dreadful cry. It seems more as though some other being, inside the stricken one, had cried. Many people have borne witness to this impression; and many cannot behold an epileptic fit without a feeling of mysterious terror and dread.
Such a feeling, we must suppose, overtook Rogojin at this moment, and saved the prince's life. Not knowing that it was a fit, and seeing his victim disappear head foremost into the darkness, hearing his head strike the stone steps below with a crash, Rogojin rushed downstairs, skirting the body, and flung himself headlong out of the hotel, like a raving madman.
The prince's body slipped convulsively down the steps till it rested at the bottom. Very soon, in five minutes or so, he was discovered, and a crowd collected around him.
A pool of blood on the steps near his head gave rise to grave fears. Was it a case of accident, or had there been a crime? It was, however, soon recognized as a case of epilepsy, and identification and proper measures for restoration followed one another, owing to a fortunate circumstance. Colia Ivolgin had come back to his hotel about seven o'clock, owing to a sudden impulse which made him refuse to dine at the Epanchins', and, finding a note from the prince awaiting him, had sped away to the latter's address. Arrived there, he ordered a cup of tea and sat sipping it in the coffee-room. While there he heard excited whispers of someone just found at the bottom of the stairs in a fit; upon which he had hurried to the spot, with a presentiment of evil, and at once recognized the prince.
The sufferer was immediately taken to his room, and though he partially regained consciousness, he lay long in a semi-dazed condition.
The doctor stated that there was no danger to be apprehended from the wound on the head, and as soon as the prince could understand what was going on around him, Colia hired a carriage and took him away to Lebedeff's. There he was received with much cordiality, and the departure to the country was hastened on his account. Three days later they were all at Pavlofsk.
已经很晚了，差不多是两点半的时候，公爵在叶潘钦家没有遇上将军。他留下名片后，决定去一趟《天平旅馆》问问科利亚；如果他不在那里，就给他留张字条。在《天平旅馆》人家对他说，“尼古拉·阿尔达利翁诺维奇还是一大早时就出去了，但是走的时候预先关照了，万一有人来找他，那么就告诉人家，他大概在３点钟左右回来。如果到３点半他还不回来，那就是坐火车去帕夫洛夫斯克叶潘钦将军夫人的别墅了，而且也就在那儿用饭了。”公爵便坐下等待，顺便就给自己要了午餐。
到了３点半甚至４点钟科利亚还没有来。公爵走到外面，无意识地随意走着。夏初，彼得堡有时偶而会有一些美妙的日子--明媚，炎热，宁静，好像故意似的，这一天就是这种难得的好天气。公爵漫无目的地闲逛了一阵。他对这个城市不大熟悉。他不时地在街道的十字路口，有陌生的房量前，在广场上，在桥上停步驻足；有一次还顺便走进了一家点心店休息了一下。有时他怀着极大的好奇心开始观察过往行人，但是往往既没有注意行人，也没有注意自己究竟在什么地方走，他处于痛苦的紧张和不安之中，同时又感到非常需要独自呆着。他很想就只有他一个人，完全消极地顺从这种令人痛苦的紧张而不去寻求出路。他怀着厌恶的心情不想去解决涌向他心头的一连串问题。“怎么，难道这一切是我错了？”他暗自嘀咕着，但又几乎意识到自已去那里；但是，无疑地，有什么东西总是使他心绪不宁，这就是现实，而不是如他所喜欢想的那种幻想。他几乎已经在车厢里坐了下来，又突然把刚刚买的车票丢到地上，重又从车站走了儿来，一副窘困和沉思的神态。过了一会儿，在街上，他似乎忽然想起了什么，似乎猛然揣度到什么很奇怪的，久久使他不得安宁的事情。突然他不由地意识到自己在做的一件事已经持续很久了，可是直到此刻他却一直没有关注这件事：已经有汗几个小时了，甚至还是在《天平旅馆》时，好像还是在抵达《天平旅馆》之前，他间或突然会开始在自己周围似乎寻找什么。随后就忘了，忘的时间还挺长，有半小时，接着又怀着不安的心态四面环顾，在周围寻觅着。
但是他刚刚发现自己这种病态的，至今还完全是不自觉的、却又早已左右看他的行动，突然在他眼前闪过了另一个回忆，引起他莫大的注意。他回想起，就在他发觉自己老是在周围寻找什么的那一刻，他曾站在人行道上一家店铺的窗前，并以很大的好奇仔细打量着陈列在橱窗里的商品，现在他想一定要检验一下：他刚才是否真的在那里站过，大概就只是在５分钟前，就在这家店铺的橱窗前，莫不是他的幻觉，莫不是他搞混了？这家店铺和这种面品是否真的存在？因为他确实感到的，今天他自己的情绪特别不正常，差不多就跟过去毛病要开始发作时的情况一样，他知道，在病要发作的前期他总是异常心不在焉，如果不加特别高度的注意去看人和物，甚至常常会弄错。为什么他这么想检验一“下自己当时是否曾经站在店铺的橱窗前，是有特殊原因的：在店铺橱窗里陈列的许多东西中，有一件他曾看过，而且还估价６０个银戈比，尽管他完全漫不经心和忐忑不安，可是他记得有这么回事。因此，如果这家店铺是存在的，这件东西真的陈列在商品之中，那么，也就是说，他确实曾经为了这件东西而停留。这么说，这件东西包含着他的强烈兴趣，以致在他刚走出火车站、心情那样沉重惶惑的时候，竟还吸引了他的注意。他走着，几乎烦恼地朝右边望着，他的心因为焦躁的迫不及待而激烈地跳动着。但是，这就是店铺，他终于找到了它！当他突然想要往回走时，他距它已经只有五百步光景了。这就是值６０个银戈比的东西，“当然，就值６０戈比，不会更多！”他现在证实着，笑了起来，但他的笑是歇斯底里的，他觉得非常难受。他现在清楚地回想起，正是在这里，他站在这橱窗前的时候，曾经突然转过身来，就像下火车时捕捉到罗戈任的目光射在自己身上一样，他确信他没有错（其实，就是在检验以前他也完全是有把握的），他撇下了店铺，并且尽快离开它。所有这一切应该快点好好思考一下，一定要好好想想。现在很清楚，在车站上他见到的并不是幻觉，他所发生的一切一定是确有其事的，也一定是与他过去所有的不安相联系的。、但是一种发自内心的不可抗拒的厌恶又占了上风：他什么也不想考虑，他也下去思考，他开始思忖的完全是另一回事。
顺便说，他想的是，在他处于癫痫状态时几乎就在发病前有那个一个阶段（如果不是梦中发作的话），在忧郁、压抑和精神上的黑暗之中他的大脑经常会突发性地振奋起来，嗽如燃起火焰瞬息即逝一般，而他的全部生命力也会以不同寻常的冲动一下子鼓舞起来。在闪电一般短促的这些瞬间，生命的感受、自我的意识几乎增长十倍。智慧、心灵都被异常的光芒照得透亮；他所有的激动，所有的怀疑，所有的不安仿佛一下子都平息了下来，化成一种最高级的宁睁，充满着明朗、和谐的欢欣和希望，充满着理智和最终的缘由。但是这些时刻，这些闪光还只是那最后一秒钟（从来也不超过一秒钟）的预感，而发作本身就是从那时开始的。这一秒钟自然是难以忍受的。当后来处于健康状况下再来思考这些瞬间的，他常常自己对自己说，所有这些最高级的自我感受和自我意识亦即“最高级存在”的闪电和闪光不是别的，而正是疾病，是对正常状态的一种破坏，如果是这样的话，那么这就根本不是最高级存在，相反，应该列为最低级。然而，最后他还是得出了一个颇为离奇的想法。“这是病又怎么样？”他最后认为，“如果结果本身，如果已经是在健康状况下想起来的和弄明白的那一刻感受，是处于最高级的和谐和美之中，是能赋予至今尚闻所未闻，料想不到的充实感、分寸感，是能在充满激情的虔诚中同最高级的生命综合体调和与融合，那么这种不正常的亢奋又有什么相干呢。”这些模模糊糊的话语虽然表达得含混不清，但是他自己心中是明白的。对于这确实是“美和虔诚”，这确实是“最高级的生命综合体”，他不能怀疑，也不容许怀疑。在这种时刻他如做梦一般看见的是不是由大麻膏、鸦片或酒所引起的什么幻象、这种不正常的、不存在的幻象损害理智，扭曲灵魂。在病态状况结束后，他能正确地对此作出判断。这些瞬间恰恰仅仅是自我意识的非同一般的强化一一如果要用一个词来表达这种状态的话，那就是自我意识，同时也是最高级的直接的自我感受。如果在那一秒钟，也就是在发病前有意识的最后一刻，他还来得及清晰而自觉地对自己说：“是啊，为了这一瞬间是可以献出整个生命的。”，那么，这一瞬间本身当然是值全部生命的。不过，他并不坚持自己这一结论的辩证部分：神志不清、精神愚钝、麻木痴呆是这些“最高级瞬间”的明显的后果，当然，他不会认真地进行争论。在这个结论中，也就是在他对这一瞬间的评价中，毫无疑问，包含着错误，但是感受的真实性毕竟使他有点困惑。实际上对这种真实性又有什么办法呢？要知道这本身就是这样，他可是来得及就在那一瞬间自己对自己说，这一秒使他完全能感觉到无限的幸福，凭这一点，这一瞬间大概也是值整个生命的“在这一瞬间，”在莫斯科他与罗戈任经常碰头，有一次他对他说，“在这一日问我似乎明白了一句不平常的话：‘不再有时间。’”“大概，”他笑着补充说“这正是患癫癞的穆罕默德打翻了盛水的瓦罐、水还没来得及流淌的那一霎问，可是他却来得及在这一刹那一览无余地观察了安拉的住处。”是的，在莫斯科他经常跟罗戈任聚会，谈的也不只是这一点。“罗戈任刚才说，那时对他来说我即是他兄弟；今天他是第一次这么说，”公爵暗自思忖着。
他坐在夏园一棵树下的长椅上想着这件事。已经７点钟左右了。夏园里空荡荡的，夕阳有一瞬间被阴暗遮掩了，空气很是窒闷，就像预告遥远的下雨即将来临。此刻他这种沉思默想状态对他来说有某种诱惑。他的回忆和天智包含了外部的每一件事物，他也喜欢这样：他始终想忘掉什么真正的重要的事情，但只要看一眼自己周围，他马上就又意识到自己的阴暗的念头，他又非常想摆脱这种念头。他本来己回想起刚才在小饭馆里用餐时跟跑堂说起的不久前发生的异常奇特的杀人案，这件案子曾闹得满城风雨，流言四起。但是他刚一想起这件事，他又突然发生了某种特别的情况。
一种异常的不可抗拒的愿望，近乎是诱惑，突然使他的全部意志都麻木了。他从长倚上站起来，从夏园径直朝彼得堡岛方向走去。刚才在涅瓦河滨他曾请一位过路人隔着涅瓦河指给他看彼得堡岛的方向。人家指给他看了；但是当时他没有朝那里走。再说不论怎么样今天是不必要去了。他知道这一带地址他早就有了；他很容易就找到了列别杰夫亲戚家的屋子；但他几乎肯定地知道，他不会在家里碰上她。“她一定去帕夫洛夫斯克了，不然的话，照约定的办法，科利亚会在《天平旅馆》留下什么活的。”因此，如果他现在在，那么当然不是为了见到她，另一种阴暗的折磨人的好奇心诱惑着他。他的头脑里冒出一个新的突如其来的念头……
但是，对他来说，他开始走并且知道往何处走，这已经足够了！过了１分钟他又已经走路了，甚至几乎没有去注意自己走的哪条路，继续去想那如其来的念头，使他立即感到万分厌恶，甚至是不可能的。他带着折磨人的紧张的注意去观察映人眼帘的一切，仰望天空，俯视涅瓦河。他本想与遇到的一个小孩子讲话。大概，他那癫痫状态越来越严重了。雷雨好像真的临了，虽然来得很慢，远处的雷声已经开始滚来。空气变得非常窒闷……
不知为什么，现在他老是想起刚才见到的列别杰夫的外甥，就像有时想起缠绵不休、无聊到让人厌烦的曲调一样，奇怪的是，他老是把他想成别杰夫本人刚才向他介绍外甥时提到的那个杀人凶手的形象。确实，有关那个杀人犯的事他还是不久前在报上看到过报导。自从他来到俄国以后，他看到和听到过许多这一类事情，他也执著地注视着这一切。刚才他跟跑堂谈的也正是热马林一家破杀的案件，他甚至表现出过分强烈的兴趣。跑堂的同意他的看法，他记得这一点，他也想起了这个跑堂，这个小伙子并不蠢，稳重和谨慎，“不过，天知道他究竟是个什么样的人，在陌生的地方要看透陌生人是很困难的。”不过，他开始满怀热情地相信俄罗斯的心灵，呵，这六个夕中他经历了多多少少对他来说是完全新鲜的、始料不及的，闻所未闻的，出人意外的事啊！但是，知人知面不知心，俄罗斯的心灵也是深不可测的，对许多人来说是不可理解的。就说他与罗戈任吧，他们来往很久，交往甚密，“像兄弟般”相处，可是他了解罗戈任吗？其实，在这方面，在所有这一切中有时是多么乱，多么冗杂，多么纷坛呀！但是，方才列别杰夫的这个外甥又是个多么事事如意的坏东西！不过；我在干什么呀？（公爵继续遐想着）难道是他杀死了这几条命，这六个人？我似乎搞混了……这多么奇怪！我好累，有点头晕……列别杰夫的大女儿，就是抱着小孩站在那里的那个姑娘，一张多么讨人喜的可爱的脸蛋呀！多么天真无邪！几乎是孩子一般的表情，几乎是孩子一般的笑声！奇怪的是，他几乎忘记了这张脸，现在才想起它来。列别杰夫虽然朝他跺脚，大概，对他们一个个还是非常宠爱的。但最没有疑问的，就像二乘二等于四一佯，这便是列别杰夫也十分宠爱自己的外甥。
不过，干什么他要对他们做这样的最终审判，他今天初来乍到，干嘛要做这样的判决呢？是的，列别杰夫就给了他难堪：嘿，他料到列别杰夫是这样的吗？难道他过去了解列别杰夫是这样的，列别杰夫和杜巴里夫人，--我的天哪！不过，罗戈任如果要杀人。那么至少也不会这样胡乱杀人，不会弄得这么乱糟糟的，凶器是按图样定制的，把六个人完全置于死地！难道罗戈任有按图样定制的凶器……他有……但是……难道能断定罗戈任要杀人？公爵突然打了个寒颤。“我这样恬不知耻、毫无顾忌地做这样的猜测，岂不是犯罪行为，岂不是卑劣行径！”他失声呼叫起来，羞涩的红晕一下子涌上了他的颜面。他惊愕了，纹丝不动地站在路中。他一下子又想起了刚才经过的帕夫洛夫斯克车站和尼古拉耶夫车站，想起了向罗戈任当面直截了当提出的既睛的问题，想起了现在戴在他身上的罗戈任的十字架；想起了罗戈任亲自带他去见母亲以及她的祝福，想起了刚才在楼梯口罗戈任的最后一次神经质的拥抱和最后放弃纳斯塔西娅·费利帕夫娜的声明。还想起了在这一切以后他发现自己在周围不断寻找着什么，想起了这家店铺，这件东西……这是多么卑鄙呀！这一切以后，现在他带昏“特别的目的”，特别的“意想不到的念头”正在走去！绝望和痛苦袭住了他的整个灵魂。公爵立即就想转身回自己的旅馆去，他甚至已经转过身去走了；但是过了１分钟他又停下来了，思考了一阵，又转回身朝原先的路走去。
他已经在彼得堡岛上了，离那幢屋子很近。但现在他去那里已经不是抱着原先的目的，不是带着“特别的念头”！刚才怎么会是这样！是啊，他的毛病正在复发，这是肯定无疑的；也许，今天就一定要发作。由于发病才有这精神上的愚钝黑暗，由于发病才有“念头”！现在黑暗已经消散，魔鬼已被驱除，怀疑已下存在，欢悦留在心问！还有，他已经很久没有见到她了，他需要见到她，还有……对了，他现在很希望能遇见罗戈任，他就会挽起他的手，他们就一起去……他的心地是纯洁的，难道他是罗戈任的情敌吗？明天他将自己去对罗戈任说，他看到她了，正如刚才罗戈任说的，他飞一般地赶到彼得堡来，就是为了见到她！也许，他真会遇上她，因为她不一走就在帕夫洛夫斯克！
是啊，应该在现在使这一切都摊明，使彼此都明白对方的全部心思，免得再有这些阴郁而又激狂的放弃声明，就像刚才罗戈任宣布放弃一样，要让这一切做得轻松畅快和……光明磊落，难道罗戈任就不能光明磊落？他说，他不像我那样爱她，他没有同情心，没有“丝毫这样的怜悯”。确实，他后来补充说，“也许，你的怜悯比我的爱情更强烈，”但他是在诽谤自己，嗯，罗戈任在读书，难道这不是“怜悯”，不是“怜悯”的开端、难道光有这本书还不能证明他是完全意识到自己对她的态度吗？还有他刚才讲的故事？不，这比光有情欲要深刻得多。难道她的脸只会激起情欲？再说这张脸现在难道能激起情欲、它只会唤起痛苦，’它Ｒ会令人揪心，它……一阵的痛、苦涩的回忆突然掠过公爵的心头。
是啊，是痛苦的回忆。他回想起，还是不久前，当他第一次发现她有失去理智的征兆时，他是多么痛苦。当时他几乎感到绝望了。当她那时从他这里逃到罗戈任那儿去时，他怎么能撇下她不管呢？他应该亲自去追她，而不是等消息，但是……难道到目前为止罗戈任还没有发觉她身上的疯狂？……嗯……罗戈任在所有的事情上看到的是别的原因，情欲的原因！他又有多么疯狂的嫉妒呀！不久前他做的推测又想说明什么呢？”公爵突然脸红了，仿佛有什么东西在他心间颤粟了一下。）
不过，回忆这个干什么？这件事上双方都有疯狂。而对于他公爵来说，若是以情欲去爱这个女人，几乎是不可思议的，几乎是残酷的、没有人性的。是个多么可怜的人，难道到那时他还不原谅她的全部过去，不记掉自己的所有的痛苦？滩道他不会成为她的奴仆、兄长、朋友、神明？同情会使罗戈任自己明白事理，会使他得到教育。同情是全人类生活的最主要的法则，也许，也是唯一的法宝贝！哦，他在罗戈任面前是有过错的，这是多么不可原谅，多么不光彩呵！不，不是“俄罗斯的心灵深不可测”，既然他能想象出这么可怕的情景，那也就是他自己的心灵深不可测。在莫斯科时就因为他讲了几句热情诚挚的话，罗戈任已经把他称为自己的兄弟，而他……但这是疾病和谑妄：这一切都会得到解释的！……刚才罗戈任多么深沉地说，他“正在失去信仰”。这个人一定十分痛苦。他说，“他喜欢看这幅画；而实际上并不喜欢，只是感到需要。”罗戈任光是一颗有情欲的灵魂，也毕竟是个斗士：他想努力恢复自己失去的信仰。现在他非常需要信仰，甚至到了万般痛苦的地步……是的，是应该信仰什么！是应该信仰什么！可是，霍尔拜因这幅画是多么奇怪呀……啊，就是这条街！大概，就是这幢房子，正是这样，十六号，《十级文官之妻费利索娃宅》，就在这里！公爵打了铃，询问纳斯塔西娅·费利帕夫娜是否住这里。
这幢房屋的女主人亲自回答他说，纳斯塔西娅·费利帕夫娜还是早晨就去帕夫洛夫斯克达里娅·阿列克谢耶夫娜家了，“甚至可能在那里留几天，费利索娃是个个子矮小、尖眼尖脸的女人，４０岁光景，看起人来既狡黯又专注。对于她问姓名（她似乎有意让这个问题带有神秘色彩），公爵起先不想回答，但马上回转来并坚决请求把他的名字转告给纳斯塔西娅·费利帕夫娜。费利索娃接受了这一坚决的请求，并表现出一种常用心专注和异常神秘的样子，看来是想以此表明：“请放心，我明白了。”公爵的名字显然给他产生了强烈的印象。公爵心不在焉地瞥了她一眼，转过身，就回自己的旅馆去了。但是他从费利索娃家走出来时的神情已经不是打铃叫她时那种样子了，仿佛霎时间在他身上又发生了异常的变化：他走着，又变得脸色苍白，身体虚弱，内心痛苦，心情激动；他的双膝打着回，一丝淡淡的忧愁的微笑在他那发青的嘴唇上游移：他那“突如其来的念头”忽然得到了证实，并且证明是正确的，可是--他又相信自己的魔鬼了！”
但是真的得到证实了吗？真的证明是正确的吗？为什么他又会有这种打颤，这种冷汗，这种精神上的黑暗和冷漠？是因为他现在又看见这双眼睛了吗？但是，他从夏园到这儿来唯一的目的不正是为了见到这双眼睛吗？他的“突如其来的念头，不也正在于此吗？他执意想要看见这双“刚才见过的眼睛”是为了最终能确信，他一定会在这幢房子附近遇到这双眼睛。这是使他焦躁不安的愿望。，现在他真的见到了这双眼睛，又为什么这样压抑和震惊？仿佛完全出乎意料一般！是的，这正是那双眼睛（正是那双眼睛，这一点现在已经没有丝毫怀疑！），早晨当他从尼古拉耶夫斯卡亚铁路站下火车时，正是那双眼睛在人群中朝他闪了一下；后来，就刚才坐在罗戈任的椅子上时，他曾捕捉到自己肩后那一双眼睛的目光（绝对就是那双眼睛！）。罗戈任刚才否认了，他歪着嘴，冷冰冰地笑着问：“到底是谁的眼睛呢。”不久前在皇村车站上，当他坐进车厢要去阿格拉娅那里时，突然又看见了这双眼睛，这已经是这一天里的第三次了，公爵当时非常想走至罗戈任跟前，对他说，“这是谁的眼睛？”但他逃出了车站，只是当他站在刀剪铺前并对有鹿角柄的一件东西估价６０戈比那一会儿，他才神智清醒过来。奇怪和可怕的魔鬼终于缠住了他，已经再也不想离开他了。当他坐在夏园的菩提树下沉思遐想的时候，这个魔鬼对他悄声低语说，既然罗戈任从一早起就这样盯他的梢，每一步都不放过他，那么，当他知道他没有去帕夫洛夫斯克（当然，这对罗戈任来说已经是不幸的消息了），罗戈任一定会去那里，即彼得堡岛上的那所屋子，也一定会在那里伺守着他，而他在早晨还发誓说“不去见她”，“不是为了她才到彼得堡来的。”现在公爵却慌急慌忙地赶到那所屋子来，在那里他真的遇上了罗戈任又怎么样”？他看见的只是一个不幸的人，他心绪阴郁，但又很可以理解。这个不幸的人现在甚至不再躲躲闪闪。确实，罗戈任刚才不知为什么矢口抵赖和撒谎，但是在车站上他几乎不加躲闪地站在那里。倒不如说公爵他自己在躲藏，而不是罗戈任。现在他就站在街的另一面，距离５０步左右的斜对面人行道上，交叉着双手，在屋子旁等着。这一次他完全暴露无遗，而且好像故意想让人家看到似的。他站在那里就像个揭发者，像个法官，而不是……不是什么呢？
可是为什么公爵他自己现在不向罗戈任走去？虽然他们的目光相遇了，他又为什么似乎什么也没看见似的，转身离开他呢？（真的，他们的目光相遇了！他们还彼此望了一会。）刚才他自己不是还想挽着他的手，跟他一起去那里吗？他自己不是还想明天去他那里并对他说自己曾经在她那里吗？还在去那里的途中，当时欢悦突然充溢心间，他自己不是已经否决了自己的魔鬼了吗？要不，要罗戈任身上真的有什么东西，也就是说，在这个人今天的整个形象中，在他的言语、动作、行为、目光的整个总体中真有什么能证实公爵那可怕的预感和他的魔鬼所说的纷扰人的低语？有某种东西本身能被看见，但是很难分析和叙述，也不可能用充分的理由来解释，但是，尽管有这样的困难和不可能，它还是能产生十分完整和不可抗拒的强烈印象，这种印象不知不觉地转变为完全的确信，是什么东西呢？……
确信--什么呢？（哦，这种确信、“这种卑鄙的预感”的荒唐性、“侮辱性”使公爵多么痛苦，他又多么强烈地谴责自己！）“如果有勇气，你就说，到底确信什么？”他带着责备和挑战的心理不断对自己说，“说出来，勇于把自己的全部思想明白、确切、毫不犹豫地表达出来！哦，我真是个无耻的人！”他满脸红晕，忿忿地重复着，“现在我这辈于还能用什么眼睛去瞧这个人！哎，这算是什么样的一天！上帝啊，多么可怕呀！”
在从波得堡岛回去的这条漫长而痛苦道路快要走完的时候，曾经有一刻一种强烈的愿望忽然袭往了公爵：“马上到罗戈任那儿去，等到他，带着羞愧。眼泪拥抱他，告诉他”然后一下子了结一切。但是他已经站在自己住的旅馆面前了……刚才他是多么不喜欢这家旅馆，这些走廊，整个这幢房屋，他的房间，从看第一眼起就不喜欢；这一天里他怀着特别厌恶的心情曾经好几次想起必须回到这里来……“我这是怎么啦，像个生病的女人似的，今天对所有的预感都相信起来了！”他停在门口，以自嘲的态度生气地想。一阵难以忍受的新的羞愧感，几乎是绝望感涌上心头，使得他凝立在原地，就在大门口，他呆了一会儿。何时候人们常常是这样的：难以忍受的突如其来的回忆，特别是交织着羞愧的回忆，通常总会使入在原地停下来一会儿，“是的，我是个没有心肝的人，胆小鬼。”他阴郁地重夏说，急速地朝前走，但是……又停了下来……
大门里本来就幽暗，此刻更是黑乎乎的：即将来临的雷雨前的乌云吞噬了日暮时分的微明，就在公爵走近屋子的那一划，乌云突然散开了，下起了倾盆大雨。在他停了一会以后争促地离开原地这个时候，他正站在大门口，就在从街上进门的入口处。突然他在问洞的深处，在昏暗的通向楼梯口的地方，看见了一个人。这个人仿佛在等待什么，但是很快地闪现一下就消失了。公爵未能看清楚这个人，当然，怎么也不能肯定：他是什么人？何况这里过往的行人又这么多；这里是旅馆，不停地有人走出走进，在走廊里跑来跑去。但他忽然感到能够最充分地。不容反驳地确信：他认识这个人，而且这个人一定是罗戈任，过了一瞬间公爵便紧跟着他奔上楼梯。他的心都屏息不跳了。
“马上一切都会得到解决了！”带着一种奇怪的信念，他暗自说着。
公爵从大门口奔上去的楼梯通问一楼和二楼的走厩，旅馆的房间就设在这两层楼面上。正像所有年代久远建造的房屋一样，这座楼梯是石砌的，又窄又暗，绕着一根粗石柱盘旋而上。在楼梯第一个拐弯的平台处，这根石往上有一个像壁龛那样的凹进去的地方，一步宽，半步深，可是这里能容纳一个人，不论光线多么暗，公爵跑上平台后就分辨出，在这个壁龛里不知为什么有人躲在这里。公爵忽然想不朝右边看，就这么从旁边走过去，他已经跨出了一步，但克制不住，还是转过身来。
刚才那两只眼睛，就是那双眼睛，突然与他的目光相遇了。躲在壁龛里人也已经从里面跨出了一步。两个人面对面，几乎是紧贴着站了有一秒钟，公爵忽然抓住了他的肩膀，朝楼梯这边折回去，靠明处近些：他想看清楚这张脸。
罗戈任的眼睛闪闪发光，狂笑使他的脸都变了样。他的右手举了起来，手中什么东西亮晃晃闪了一下。公爵没有想去阻挡这只手。他只记得，他好像喊：
“帕尔芬，我不相信！……”
接着，仿佛有什么东西忽然在他面前裂开了：一股非同寻常的内心的光芒照亮了他的灵魂，这一瞬间持续了大概半秒种；但是他却清楚和有意识地记住了这开端，这可怕的号叫的第一声，它是自然而然地从胸中迸发出来，他用任何力量都无法遏止住。接着他的意识霎那间消失了，笼罩着一片漆黑。
他的癫痫病发作了，这病已有很久没有复发了。大家都知道，癫痫病，亦即是羊癫疯，是一瞬间突然发作的。在这一瞬间突然脸变得十分异样，特别是眼光。抽搐和痉挛遍及全身和面目五官。难以想象的、跟什么都不一样的可怕的号叫从胸口迸发出来；在这声号叫里似乎一切人性的东西都骤然消失了，旁观者无论怎样也不可能，至少是非常困难想象和假设，喊出这声音的就是眼前这个人。甚至使人觉得，仿佛在这个人的身体里面另外有一个什么人在喊叫。至少有许多人是这样说明自己的印象的，癫痫病人发作的样子引起许多人肯定无疑和难以忍受的恐怖，甚至还包含着某种神秘。应该推测到，那一刻突如其来的恐怖感觉再夹杂着所有其他可怕的印象猛地使罗戈任在原地怔住了，因而也就使公爵幸免于本来已经朝他戳下来的不可避免的一刀。罗戈任还没来得及想到这是癫痫发作，看到公爵身子离开他一晃，突然在楼梯上直挺挺仰面朝下倒去，后脑重重地撞在石级上，他就拼命朝下奔去，绕过躺着的病人，几乎丧魂落魄地逃出了旅馆。
抽搐、扭动、痉挛使病人的身体顺着不少于十五级的搂梯一直滚到楼梯末端。很快，不超过五分钟就有人发现了躺在地上的人，一群人围拢了来，一旁的一汪血引起人们的困惑：“是这个人自己撞破的，还是有人作了什么孽”，但是很快就有些人看出是羊癫疯；一名侍者认出公爵是刚来的住客。一个侥幸的情况终于使这一场慌乱解决得相当顺利。
原来允诺四点钟左右回到《天平旅馆》、结果却去了帕夫洛夫斯克的科利亚·伊沃尔京突发了一个念头，因此没有在叶潘钦将军夫人那里“用饭”而回到了彼得堡，并急匆匆赶往《天平旅馆》，到那里时已是晚上七点钟左右根据留给他的字条，他知道公爵在城里，于是急忙向字条里告知的地址赶紧找他，在旅馆里他了解到公爵出去了，就到下面小吃部，一边喝茶听管风琴一边等待。偶然听到人家谈论有人羊癫疯发作，他凭准确的预感奔向出事地点，便认出了公爵。立即就采取了必要的措施。人们把公爵抬到他的房间里，他虽然已经醒了过来，可是相当长时间都不能完全恢复意识。被请来检查面部损伤的医生给他作了湿敷并告知，碰伤没有丝毫危险。过了一小时，当公爵已经非常清楚地明白身边发生的一切时，科利亚就用马车把他从旅馆转送到列别杰夫那儿去。列别杰夫以非凡的热情和恭敬接待了病人。为了公爵，他还加快了搬去别墅的准备：第三天所有的人已经在帕夫洛夫斯克了。