WHILE he feasted his eyes upon Aglaya, as she talked merrily with Evgenie and Prince N., suddenly the old anglomaniac, who was talking to the dignitary in another corner of the room, apparently telling him a story about something or other--suddenly this gentleman pronounced the name of "Nicolai Andreevitch Pavlicheff" aloud. The prince quickly turned towards him, and listened.
The conversation had been on the subject of land, and the present disorders, and there must have been something amusing said, for the old man had begun to laugh at his companion's heated expressions.
The latter was describing in eloquent words how, in consequence of recent legislation, he was obliged to sell a beautiful estate in the N. province, not because he wanted ready money--in fact, he was obliged to sell it at half its value. "To avoid another lawsuit about the Pavlicheff estate, I ran away," he said. "With a few more inheritances of that kind I should soon be ruined!"
At this point General Epanchin, noticing how interested Muishkin had become in the conversation, said to him, in a low tone:
"That gentleman--Ivan Petrovitch--is a relation of your late friend, Mr. Pavlicheff. You wanted to find some of his relations, did you not?"
The general, who had been talking to his chief up to this moment, had observed the prince's solitude and silence, and was anxious to draw him into the conversation, and so introduce him again to the notice of some of the important personages.
"Lef Nicolaievitch was a ward of Nicolai Andreevitch Pavlicheff, after the death of his own parents," he remarked, meeting Ivan Petrovitch's eye.
"Very happy to meet him, I'm sure," remarked the latter. "I remember Lef Nicolaievitch well. When General Epanchin introduced us just now, I recognized you at once, prince. You are very little changed, though I saw you last as a child of some ten or eleven years old. There was something in your features, I suppose, that--"
"You saw me as a child!" exclaimed the prince, with surprise.
"Oh! yes, long ago," continued Ivan Petrovitch, "while you were living with my cousin at Zlatoverhoff. You don't remember me? No, I dare say you don't; you had some malady at the time, I remember. It was so serious that I was surprised--"
"No; I remember nothing!" said the prince. A few more words of explanation followed, words which were spoken without the smallest excitement by his companion, but which evoked the greatest agitation in the prince; and it was discovered that two old ladies to whose care the prince had been left by Pavlicheff, and who lived at Zlatoverhoff, were also relations of Ivan Petrovitch.
The latter had no idea and could give no information as to why Pavlicheff had taken so great an interest in the little prince, his ward.
"In point of fact I don't think I thought much about it," said the old fellow. He seemed to have a wonderfully good memory, however, for he told the prince all about the two old ladies, Pavlicheff's cousins, who had taken care of him, and whom, he declared, he had taken to task for being too severe with the prince as a small sickly boy--the elder sister, at least; the younger had been kind, he recollected. They both now lived in another province, on a small estate left to them by Pavlicheff. The prince listened to all this with eyes sparkling with emotion and delight.
He declared with unusual warmth that he would never forgive himself for having travelled about in the central provinces during these last six months without having hunted up his two old friends.
He declared, further, that he had intended to go every day, but had always been prevented by circumstances; but that now he would promise himself the pleasure--however far it was, he would find them out. And so Ivan Petrovitch REALLY knew Natalia Nikitishna!- -what a saintly nature was hers!--and Martha Nikitishna! Ivan Petrovitch must excuse him, but really he was not quite fair on dear old Martha. She was severe, perhaps; but then what else could she be with such a little idiot as he was then? (Ha, ha.) He really was an idiot then, Ivan Petrovitch must know, though he might not believe it. (Ha, ha.) So he had really seen him there! Good heavens! And was he really and truly and actually a cousin of Pavlicheff's?
"I assure you of it," laughed Ivan Petrovitch, gazing amusedly at the prince.
"Oh! I didn't say it because I DOUBT the fact, you know. (Ha, ha.) How could I doubt such a thing? (Ha, ha, ha.) I made the remark because--because Nicolai Andreevitch Pavlicheff was such a splendid man, don't you see! Such a high-souled man, he really was, I assure you."
The prince did not exactly pant for breath, but he "seemed almost to CHOKE out of pure simplicity and goodness of heart," as Adelaida expressed it, on talking the party over with her fiance, the Prince S., next morning.
"But, my goodness me," laughed Ivan Petrovitch, "why can't I be cousin to even a splendid man?"
"Oh, dear!" cried the prince, confused, trying to hurry his words out, and growing more and more eager every moment: "I've gone and said another stupid thing. I don't know what to say. I--I didn't mean that, you know--I--I--he really was such a splendid man, wasn't he?"
The prince trembled all over. Why was he so agitated? Why had he flown into such transports of delight without any apparent reason? He had far outshot the measure of joy and emotion consistent with the occasion. Why this was it would be difficult to say.
He seemed to feel warmly and deeply grateful to someone for something or other--perhaps to Ivan Petrovitch; but likely enough to all the guests, individually, and collectively. He was much too happy.
Ivan Petrovitch began to stare at him with some surprise; the dignitary, too, looked at him with considerable attention; Princess Bielokonski glared at him angrily, and compressed her lips. Prince N., Evgenie, Prince S., and the girls, all broke off their own conversations and listened. Aglaya seemed a little startled; as for Lizabetha Prokofievna, her heart sank within her.
This was odd of Lizabetha Prokofievna and her daughters. They had themselves decided that it would be better if the prince did not talk all the evening. Yet seeing him sitting silent and alone, but perfectly happy, they had been on the point of exerting themselves to draw him into one of the groups of talkers around the room. Now that he was in the midst of a talk they became more than ever anxious and perturbed.
"That he was a splendid man is perfectly true; you are quite right," repeated Ivan Petrovitch, but seriously this time. "He was a fine and a worthy fellow--worthy, one may say, of the highest respect," he added, more and more seriously at each pause; " and it is agreeable to see, on your part, such--"
"Wasn't it this same Pavlicheff about whom there was a strange story in connection with some abbot? I don't remember who the abbot was, but I remember at one time everybody was talking about it," remarked the old dignitary.
"Yes--Abbot Gurot, a Jesuit," said Ivan Petrovitch. "Yes, that's the sort of thing our best men are apt to do. A man of rank, too, and rich--a man who, if he had continued to serve, might have done anything; and then to throw up the service and everything else in order to go over to Roman Catholicism and turn Jesuit-- openly, too--almost triumphantly. By Jove! it was positively a mercy that he died when he did--it was indeed--everyone said so at the time."
The prince was beside himself.
"Pavlicheff?--Pavlicheff turned Roman Catholic? Impossible!" he cried, in horror.
"H'm! impossible is rather a strong word," said Ivan Petrovitch. "You must allow, my dear prince... However, of course you value the memory of the deceased so very highly; and he certainly was the kindest of men; to which fact, by the way, I ascribe, more than to anything else, the success of the abbot in influencing his religious convictions. But you may ask me, if you please, how much trouble and worry I, personally, had over that business, and especially with this same Gurot! Would you believe it," he continued, addressing the dignitary, "they actually tried to put in a claim under the deceased's will, and I had to resort to the very strongest measures in order to bring them to their senses? I assure you they knew their cue, did these gentlemen-- wonderful! Thank goodness all this was in Moscow, and I got the Court, you know, to help me, and we soon brought them to their senses.
"You wouldn't believe how you have pained and astonished me," cried the prince.
"Very sorry; but in point of fact, you know, it was all nonsense and would have ended in smoke, as usual--I'm sure of that. Last year,"--he turned to the old man again,--"Countess K. joined some Roman Convent abroad. Our people never seem to be able to offer any resistance so soon as they get into the hands of these-- intriguers--especially abroad."
"That is all thanks to our lassitude, I think," replied the old man, with authority. "And then their way of preaching; they have a skilful manner of doing it! And they know how to startle one, too. I got quite a fright myself in '32, in Vienna, I assure you; but I didn't cave in to them, I ran away instead, ha, ha!"
"Come, come, I've always heard that you ran away with the beautiful Countess Levitsky that time--throwing up everything in order to do it--and not from the Jesuits at all," said Princess Bielokonski, suddenly.
"Well, yes--but we call it from the Jesuits, you know; it comes to the same thing," laughed the old fellow, delighted with the pleasant recollection.
"You seem to be very religious," he continued, kindly, addressing the prince," which is a thing one meets so seldom nowadays among young people."
The prince was listening open-mouthed, and still in a condition of excited agitation. The old man was evidently interested in him, and anxious to study him more closely.
"Pavlicheff was a man of bright intellect and a good Christian, a sincere Christian," said the prince, suddenly. "How could he possibly embrace a faith which is unchristian? Roman Catholicism is, so to speak, simply the same thing as unchristianity," he added with flashing eyes, which seemed to take in everybody in the room.
"Come, that's a little TOO strong, isn't it?" murmured the old man, glancing at General Epanchin in surprise.
"How do you make out that the Roman Catholic religion is UNCHRISTIAN? What is it, then?" asked Ivan Petrovitch, turning to the prince.
"It is not a Christian religion, in the first place," said the latter, in extreme agitation, quite out of proportion to the necessity of the moment. "And in the second place, Roman Catholicism is, in my opinion, worse than Atheism itself. Yes-- that is my opinion. Atheism only preaches a negation, but Romanism goes further; it preaches a disfigured, distorted Christ--it preaches Anti-Christ--I assure you, I swear it! This is my own personal conviction, and it has long distressed me. The Roman Catholic believes that the Church on earth cannot stand without universal temporal Power. He cries 'non possumus!' In my opinion the Roman Catholic religion is not a faith at all, but simply a continuation of the Roman Empire, and everything is subordinated to this idea--beginning with faith. The Pope has seized territories and an earthly throne, and has held them with the sword. And so the thing has gone on, only that to the sword they have added lying, intrigue, deceit, fanaticism, superstition, swindling;--they have played fast and loose with the most sacred and sincere feelings of men;--they have exchanged everything--everything for money, for base earthly POWER! And is this not the teaching of Anti-Christ? How could the upshot of all this be other than Atheism? Atheism is the child of Roman Catholicism--it proceeded from these Romans themselves, though perhaps they would not believe it. It grew and fattened on hatred of its parents; it is the progeny of their lies and spiritual feebleness. Atheism! In our country it is only among the upper classes that you find unbelievers; men who have lost the root or spirit of their faith; but abroad whole masses of the people are beginning to profess unbelief--at first because of the darkness and lies by which they were surrounded; but now out of fanaticism, out of loathing for the Church and Christianity!"
The prince paused to get breath. He had spoken with extraordinary rapidity, and was very pale.
All present interchanged glances, but at last the old dignitary burst out laughing frankly. Prince N. took out his eye-glass to have a good look at the speaker. The German poet came out of his corner and crept nearer to the table, with a spiteful smile.
"You exaggerate the matter very much," said Ivan Petrovitch, with rather a bored air. "There are, in the foreign Churches, many representatives of their faith who are worthy of respect and esteem."
"Oh, but I did not speak of individual representatives. I was merely talking about Roman Catholicism, and its essence--of Rome itself. A Church can never entirely disappear; I never hinted at that!"
"Agreed that all this may be true; but we need not discuss a subject which belongs to the domain of theology."
"Oh, no; oh, no! Not to theology alone, I assure you! Why, Socialism is the progeny of Romanism and of the Romanistic spirit. It and its brother Atheism proceed from Despair in opposition to Catholicism. It seeks to replace in itself the moral power of religion, in order to appease the spiritual thirst of parched humanity and save it; not by Christ, but by force. 'Don't dare to believe in God, don't dare to possess any individuality, any property! Fraternite ou la Mort; two million heads. 'By their works ye shall know them'--we are told. And we must not suppose that all this is harmless and without danger to ourselves. Oh, no; we must resist, and quickly, quickly! We must let out Christ shine forth upon the Western nations, our Christ whom we have preserved intact, and whom they have never known. Not as slaves, allowing ourselves to be caught by the hooks of the Jesuits, but carrying our Russian civilization to THEM, we must stand before them, not letting it be said among us that their preaching is 'skilful,' as someone expressed it just now."
"But excuse me, excuse me;" cried Ivan Petrovitch considerably disturbed, and looking around uneasily. "Your ideas are, of course, most praiseworthy, and in the highest degree patriotic; but you exaggerate the matter terribly. It would be better if we dropped the subject."
"No, sir, I do not exaggerate, I understate the matter, if anything, undoubtedly understate it; simply because I cannot express myself as I should like, but--"
"Allow me!"
The prince was silent. He sat straight up in his chair and gazed fervently at Ivan Petrovitch.
"It seems to me that you have been too painfully impressed by the news of what happened to your good benefactor," said the old dignitary, kindly, and with the utmost calmness of demeanour. "You are excitable, perhaps as the result of your solitary life. If you would make up your mind to live more among your fellows in society, I trust, I am sure, that the world would be glad to welcome you, as a remarkable young man; and you would soon find yourself able to look at things more calmly. You would see that all these things are much simpler than you think; and, besides, these rare cases come about, in my opinion, from ennui and from satiety."
"Exactly, exactly! That is a true thought!" cried the prince. "From ennui, from our ennui but not from satiety! Oh, no, you are wrong there! Say from THIRST if you like; the thirst of fever! And please do not suppose that this is so small a matter that we may have a laugh at it and dismiss it; we must be able to foresee our disasters and arm against them. We Russians no sooner arrive at the brink of the water, and realize that we are really at the brink, than we are so delighted with the outlook that in we plunge and swim to the farthest point we can see. Why is this? You say you are surprised at Pavlicheff's action; you ascribe it to madness, to kindness of heart, and what not, but it is not so.
"Our Russian intensity not only astonishes ourselves; all Europe wonders at our conduct in such cases! For, if one of us goes over to Roman Catholicism, he is sure to become a Jesuit at once, and a rabid one into the bargain. If one of us becomes an Atheist, he must needs begin to insist on the prohibition of faith in God by force, that is, by the sword. Why is this? Why does he then exceed all bounds at once? Because he has found land at last, the fatherland that he sought in vain before; and, because his soul is rejoiced to find it, he throws himself upon it and kisses it! Oh, it is not from vanity alone, it is not from feelings of vanity that Russians become Atheists and Jesuits! But from spiritual thirst, from anguish of longing for higher things, for dry firm land, for foothold on a fatherland which they never believed in because they never knew it. It is easier for a Russian to become an Atheist, than for any other nationality in the world. And not only does a Russian 'become an Atheist,' but he actually BELIEVES IN Atheism, just as though he had found a new faith, not perceiving that he has pinned his faith to a negation. Such is our anguish of thirst! 'Whoso has no country has no God.' That is not my own expression; it is the expression of a merchant, one of the Old Believers, whom I once met while travelling. He did not say exactly these words. I think his expression was:
"'Whoso forsakes his country forsakes his God.'
"But let these thirsty Russian souls find, like Columbus' discoverers, a new world; let them find the Russian world, let them search and discover all the gold and treasure that lies hid in the bosom of their own land! Show them the restitution of lost humanity, in the future, by Russian thought alone, and by means of the God and of the Christ of our Russian faith, and you will see how mighty and just and wise and good a giant will rise up before the eyes of the astonished and frightened world; astonished because they expect nothing but the sword from us, because they think they will get nothing out of us but barbarism. This has been the case up to now, and the longer matters go on as they are now proceeding, the more clear will be the truth of what I say; and I--"
But at this moment something happened which put a most unexpected end to the orator's speech. All this heated tirade, this outflow of passionate words and ecstatic ideas which seemed to hustle and tumble over each other as they fell from his lips, bore evidence of some unusually disturbed mental condition in the young fellow who had "boiled over" in such a remarkable manner, without any apparent reason.
In point of fact it is quite possible that the matter would have ended in a very commonplace and natural way in a few minutes. The undoubtedly astonished, but now more collected, General Epanchin had several times endeavoured to interrupt the prince, and not having succeeded he was now preparing to take firmer and more vigorous measures to attain his end. In another minute or two he would probably have made up his mind to lead the prince quietly out of the room, on the plea of his being ill (and it was more than likely that the general was right in his belief that the prince WAS actually ill), but it so happened that destiny had something different in store.
At the beginning of the evening, when the prince first came into the room, he had sat down as far as possible from the Chinese vase which Aglaya had spoken of the day before.
Will it be believed that, after Aglaya's alarming words, an ineradicable conviction had taken possession of his mind that, however he might try to avoid this vase next day, he must certainly break it? But so it was.
During the evening other impressions began to awaken in his mind, as we have seen, and he forgot his presentiment. But when Pavlicheff was mentioned and the general introduced him to Ivan Petrovitch, he had changed his place, and went over nearer to the table; when, it so happened, he took the chair nearest to the beautiful vase, which stood on a pedestal behind him, just about on a level with his elbow.
As he spoke his last words he had risen suddenly from his seat with a wave of his arm, and there was a general cry of horror.
The huge vase swayed backwards and forwards; it seemed to be uncertain whether or no to topple over on to the head of one of the old men, but eventually determined to go the other way, and came crashing over towards the German poet, who darted out of the way in terror.
The crash, the cry, the sight of the fragments of valuable china covering the carpet, the alarm of the company--what all this meant to the poor prince it would be difficult to convey to the mind of the reader, or for him to imagine.
But one very curious fact was that all the shame and vexation and mortification which he felt over the accident were less powerful than the deep impression of the almost supernatural truth of his premonition. He stood still in alarm--in almost superstitious alarm, for a moment; then all mists seemed to clear away from his eyes; he was conscious of nothing but light and joy and ecstasy; his breath came and went; but the moment passed. Thank God it was not that! He drew a long breath and looked around.
For some minutes he did not seem to comprehend the excitement around him; that is, he comprehended it and saw everything, but he stood aside, as it were, like someone invisible in a fairy tale, as though he had nothing to do with what was going on, though it pleased him to take an interest in it.
He saw them gather up the broken bits of china; he heard the loud talking of the guests and observed how pale Aglaya looked, and how very strangely she was gazing at him. There was no hatred in her expression, and no anger whatever. It was full of alarm for him, and sympathy and affection, while she looked around at the others with flashing, angry eyes. His heart filled with a sweet pain as he gazed at her.
At length he observed, to his amazement, that all had taken their seats again, and were laughing and talking as though nothing had happened. Another minute and the laughter grew louder--they were laughing at him, at his dumb stupor--laughing kindly and merrily. Several of them spoke to him, and spoke so kindly and cordially, especially Lizabetha Prokofievna--she was saying the kindest possible things to him.
Suddenly he became aware that General Epanchin was tapping him on the shoulder; Ivan Petrovitch was laughing too, but still more kind and sympathizing was the old dignitary. He took the prince by the hand and pressed it warmly; then he patted it, and quietly urged him to recollect himself--speaking to him exactly as he would have spoken to a little frightened child, which pleased the prince wonderfully; and next seated him beside himself.
The prince gazed into his face with pleasure, but still seemed to have no power to speak. His breath failed him. The old man's face pleased him greatly.
"Do you really forgive me?" he said at last. "And--and Lizabetha Prokofievna too?" The laugh increased, tears came into the prince's eyes, he could not believe in all this kindness--he was enchanted.
"The vase certainly was a very beautiful one. I remember it here for fifteen years--yes, quite that!" remarked Ivan Petrovitch.
"Oh, what a dreadful calamity! A wretched vase smashed, and a man half dead with remorse about it," said Lizabetha Prokofievna, loudly. "What made you so dreadfully startled, Lef Nicolaievitch?" she added, a little timidly. "Come, my dear boy! cheer up. You really alarm me, taking the accident so to heart."
"Do you forgive me all--ALL, besides the vase, I mean?" said the prince, rising from his seat once more, but the old gentleman caught his hand and drew him down again--he seemed unwilling to let him go.
"C'est tres-curieux et c'est tres-serieux," he whispered across the table to Ivan Petrovitch, rather loudly. Probably the prince heard him.
"So that I have not offended any of you? You will not believe how happy I am to be able to think so. It is as it should be. As if I COULD offend anyone here! I should offend you again by even suggesting such a thing."
"Calm yourself, my dear fellow. You are exaggerating again; you really have no occasion to be so grateful to us. It is a feeling which does you great credit, but an exaggeration, for all that."
"I am not exactly thanking you, I am only feeling a growing admiration for you--it makes me happy to look at you. I dare say I am speaking very foolishly, but I must speak--I must explain, if it be out of nothing better than self-respect."
All he said and did was abrupt, confused, feverish--very likely the words he spoke, as often as not, were not those he wished to say. He seemed to inquire whether he MIGHT speak. His eyes lighted on Princess Bielokonski.
"All right, my friend, talk away, talk away!" she remarked. "Only don't lose your breath; you were in such a hurry when you began, and look what you've come to now! Don't be afraid of speaking-- all these ladies and gentlemen have seen far stranger people than yourself; you don't astonish THEM. You are nothing out-of-the-way remarkable, you know. You've done nothing but break a vase, and give us all a fright."
The prince listened, smiling.
"Wasn't it you," he said, suddenly turning to the old gentleman, "who saved the student Porkunoff and a clerk called Shoabrin from being sent to Siberia, two or three months since?"
The old dignitary blushed a little, and murmured that the prince had better not excite himself further.
"And I have heard of YOU," continued the prince, addressing Ivan Petrovitch, "that when some of your villagers were burned out you gave them wood to build up their houses again, though they were no longer your serfs and had behaved badly towards you."
"Oh, come, come! You are exaggerating," said Ivan Petrovitch, beaming with satisfaction, all the same. He was right, however, in this instance, for the report had reached the prince's ears in an incorrect form.
"And you, princess," he went on, addressing Princess Bielokonski, "was it not you who received me in Moscow, six months since, as kindly as though I had been your own son, in response to a letter from Lizabetha Prokofievna; and gave me one piece of advice, again as to your own son, which I shall never forget? Do you remember?"
"What are you making such a fuss about?" said the old lady, with annoyance. "You are a good fellow, but very silly. One gives you a halfpenny, and you are as grateful as though one had saved your life. You think this is praiseworthy on your part, but it is not --it is not, indeed."
She seemed to be very angry, but suddenly burst out laughing, quite good-humouredly.
Lizabetha Prokofievna's face brightened up, too; so did that of General Epanchin.
"I told you Lef Nicolaievitch was a man--a man--if only he would not be in such a hurry, as the princess remarked," said the latter, with delight.
Aglaya alone seemed sad and depressed; her face was flushed, perhaps with indignation.
"He really is very charming," whispered the old dignitary to Ivan Petrovitch.
"I came into this room with anguish in my heart," continued the prince, with ever-growing agitation, speaking quicker and quicker, and with increasing strangeness. "I--I was afraid of you all, and afraid of myself. I was most afraid of myself. When I returned to Petersburg, I promised myself to make a point of seeing our greatest men, and members of our oldest families--the old families like my own. I am now among princes like myself, am I not? I wished to know you, and it was necessary, very, very necessary. I had always heard so much that was evil said of you all--more evil than good; as to how small and petty were your interests, how absurd your habits, how shallow your education, and so on. There is so much written and said about you! I came here today with anxious curiosity; I wished to see for myself and form my own convictions as to whether it were true that the whole of this upper stratum of Russian society is WORTHLESS, has outlived its time, has existed too long, and is only fit to die-- and yet is dying with petty, spiteful warring against that which is destined to supersede it and take its place--hindering the Coming Men, and knowing not that itself is in a dying condition. I did not fully believe in this view even before, for there never was such a class among us--excepting perhaps at court, by accident--or by uniform; but now there is not even that, is there? It has vanished, has it not?"
"No, not a bit of it," said Ivan Petrovitch, with a sarcastic laugh.
"Good Lord, he's off again!" said Princess Bielokonski, impatiently.
"Laissez-le dire! He is trembling all over," said the old man, in a warning whisper.
The prince certainly was beside himself.
"Well? What have I seen?" he continued. "I have seen men of graceful simplicity of intellect; I have seen an old man who is not above speaking kindly and even LISTENING to a boy like myself; I see before me persons who can understand, who can forgive--kind, good Russian hearts--hearts almost as kind and cordial as I met abroad. Imagine how delighted I must have been, and how surprised! Oh, let me express this feeling! I have so often heard, and I have even believed, that in society there was nothing but empty forms, and that reality had vanished; but I now see for myself that this can never be the case HERE, among us--it may be the order elsewhere, but not in Russia. Surely you are not all Jesuits and deceivers! I heard Prince N.'s story just now. Was it not simple-minded, spontaneous humour? Could such words come from the lips of a man who is dead?--a man whose heart and talents are dried up? Could dead men and women have treated me so kindly as you have all been treating me to-day? Is there not material for the future in all this--for hope? Can such people fail to UNDERSTAND? Can such men fall away from reality?"
"Once more let us beg you to be calm, my dear boy. We'll talk of all this another time--I shall do so with the greatest pleasure, for one," said the old dignitary, with a smile.
Ivan Petrovitch grunted and twisted round in his chair. General Epanchin moved nervously. The latter's chief had started a conversation with the wife of the dignitary, and took no notice whatever of the prince, but the old lady very often glanced at him, and listened to what he was saying.
"No, I had better speak," continued the prince, with a new outburst of feverish emotion, and turning towards the old man with an air of confidential trustfulness." Yesterday, Aglaya Ivanovna forbade me to talk, and even specified the particular subjects I must not touch upon--she knows well enough that I am odd when I get upon these matters. I am nearly twenty-seven years old, and yet I know I am little better than a child. I have no right to express my ideas, and said so long ago. Only in Moscow, with Rogojin, did I ever speak absolutely freely! He and I read Pushkin together--all his works. Rogojin knew nothing of Pushkin, had not even heard his name. I am always afraid of spoiling a great Thought or Idea by my absurd manner. I have no eloquence, I know. I always make the wrong gestures-- inappropriate gestures--and therefore I degrade the Thought, and raise a laugh instead of doing my subject justice. I have no sense of proportion either, and that is the chief thing. I know it would be much better if I were always to sit still and say nothing. When I do so, I appear to be quite a sensible sort of a person, and what's more, I think about things. But now I must speak; it is better that I should. I began to speak because you looked so kindly at me; you have such a beautiful face. I promised Aglaya Ivanovna yesterday that I would not speak all the evening."
"Really?" said the old man, smiling.
"But, at times, I can't help thinking that I am. wrong in feeling so about it, you know. Sincerity is more important than elocution, isn't it?"
"Sometimes."
"I want to explain all to you--everything--everything! I know you think me Utopian, don't you--an idealist? Oh, no! I'm not, indeed--my ideas are all so simple. You don't believe me? You are smiling. Do you know, I am sometimes very wicked--for I lose my faith? This evening as I came here, I thought to myself, 'What shall I talk about? How am I to begin, so that they may be able to understand partially, at all events?' How afraid I was-- dreadfully afraid! And yet, how COULD I be afraid--was it not shameful of me? Was I afraid of finding a bottomless abyss of empty selfishness? Ah! that's why I am so happy at this moment, because I find there is no bottomless abyss at all--but good, healthy material, full of life.
"It is not such a very dreadful circumstance that we are odd people, is it? For we really are odd, you know--careless, reckless, easily wearied of anything. We don't look thoroughly into matters--don't care to understand things. We are all like this--you and I, and all of them! Why, here are you, now--you are not a bit angry with me for calling you odd,' are you? And, if so, surely there is good material in you? Do you know, I sometimes think it is a good thing to be odd. We can forgive one another more easily, and be more humble. No one can begin by being perfect--there is much one cannot understand in life at first. In order to attain to perfection, one must begin by failing to understand much. And if we take in knowledge too quickly, we very likely are not taking it in at all. I say all this to you--you who by this time understand so much--and doubtless have failed to understand so much, also. I am not afraid of you any longer. You are not angry that a mere boy should say such words to you, are you? Of course not! You know how to forget and to forgive. You are laughing, Ivan Petrovitch? You think I am a champion of other classes of people--that I am THEIR advocate, a democrat, and an orator of Equality?" The prince laughed hysterically; he had several times burst into these little, short nervous laughs. "Oh, no--it is for you, for myself, and for all of us together, that I am alarmed. I am a prince of an old family myself, and I am sitting among my peers; and I am talking like this in the hope of saving us all; in the hope that our class will not disappear altogether--into the darkness--unguessing its danger--blaming everything around it, and losing ground every day. Why should we disappear and give place to others, when we may still, if we choose, remain in the front rank and lead the battle? Let us be servants, that we may become lords in due season!"
He tried to get upon his feet again, but the old man still restrained him, gazing at him with increasing perturbation as he went on.
"Listen--I know it is best not to speak! It is best simply to give a good example--simply to begin the work. I have done this-- I have begun, and--and--oh! CAN anyone be unhappy, really? Oh! what does grief matter--what does misfortune matter, if one knows how to be happy? Do you know, I cannot understand how anyone can pass by a green tree, and not feel happy only to look at it! How anyone can talk to a man and not feel happy in loving him! Oh, it is my own fault that I cannot express myself well enough! But there are lovely things at every step I take--things which even the most miserable man must recognize as beautiful. Look at a little child--look at God's day-dawn--look at the grass growing-- look at the eyes that love you, as they gaze back into your eyes!"
He had risen, and was speaking standing up. The old gentleman was looking at him now in unconcealed alarm. Lizabetha Prokofievna wrung her hands. "Oh, my God!" she cried. She had guessed the state of the case before anyone else.
Aglaya rushed quickly up to him, and was just in time to receive him in her arms, and to hear with dread and horror that awful, wild cry as he fell writhing to the ground.
There he lay on the carpet, and someone quickly placed a cushion under his head.
No one had expected this.
In a quarter of an hour or so Prince N. and Evgenie Pavlovitch and the old dignitary were hard at work endeavouring to restore the harmony of the evening, but it was of no avail, and very soon after the guests separated and went their ways.
A great deal of sympathy was expressed; a considerable amount of advice was volunteered; Ivan Petrovitch expressed his opinion that the young man was "a Slavophile, or something of that sort"; but that it was not a dangerous development. The old dignitary said nothing.
True enough, most of the guests, next day and the day after, were not in very good humour. Ivan Petrovitch was a little offended, but not seriously so. General Epanchin's chief was rather cool towards him for some while after the occurrence. The old dignitary, as patron of the family, took the opportunity of murmuring some kind of admonition to the general, and added, in flattering terms, that he was most interested in Aglaya's future. He was a man who really did possess a kind heart, although his interest in the prince, in the earlier part of the evening, was due, among other reasons, to the latter's connection with Nastasia Philipovna, according to popular report. He had heard a good deal of this story here and there, and was greatly interested in it, so much so that he longed to ask further questions about it.
Princess Bielokonski, as she drove away on this eventful evening, took occasion to say to Lizabetha Prokofievna:
"Well--he's a good match--and a bad one; and if you want my opinion, more bad than good. You can see for yourself the man is an invalid."
Lizabetha therefore decided that the prince was impossible as a husband for Aglaya; and during the ensuing night she made a vow that never while she lived should he marry Aglaya. With this resolve firmly impressed upon her mind, she awoke next day; but during the morning, after her early lunch, she fell into a condition of remarkable inconsistency.
In reply to a very guarded question of her sisters', Aglaya had answered coldly, but exceedingly haughtily:
"I have never given him my word at all, nor have I ever counted him as my future husband--never in my life. He is just as little to me as all the rest."
Lizabetha Prokofievna suddenly flared up.
"I did not expect that of you, Aglaya," she said. "He is an impossible husband for you,--I know it; and thank God that we agree upon that point; but I did not expect to hear such words from you. I thought I should hear a very different tone from you. I would have turned out everyone who was in the room last night and kept him,--that's the sort of man he is, in my opinion!"
Here she suddenly paused, afraid of what she had just said. But she little knew how unfair she was to her daughter at that moment. It was all settled in Aglaya's mind. She was only waiting for the hour that would bring the matter to a final climax; and every hint, every careless probing of her wound, did but further lacerate her heart.
他们讲的是如今的世道以及某省地主庄园里的混乱情况，英国迷的叙述想必也包含着某些快活的内容，因为最终老头开始对叙述者那种尖酸刻薄的激昂佯子感到好笑了。他有点抱怨地拉长了声调，柔和地重读着元音，从容不迫地叙述着，为什么他被迫（正是被目前的时世所迫）卖掉在某省的一处绝好的庄园，甚至在并不特别需要钱的情况下只卖了个半价，而同时还不得下保留一个面临破产、亏损累累、正打官司的庄园，甚至还得为它贴钱。“为了避免为帕夫利谢夫的一块领地再打官司，我索性逃之夭夭。还有一两处这样的遗产，我可要破产了。不过，那边留给我的是三千公顷上好的土地！”
“要知道……伊万。彼得罗维奇是已故尼古拉·安德列耶维奇·帕夫利谢夫的亲戚……你不是好像寻找过他的亲戚吗？”注意到公爵对他们的谈话异常关注，伊万· 费奥多罗维奇便突然来到他身旁，轻声对他说。在此之前伊万·费奥多罗维奇一直陪着自己的将军上司说话，但他早就发现列夫·尼古拉耶维奇落落寡言的样子，便开始为他感到不安。他想使公爵在一走程度上介入谈话，从而把他第二次展示和介绍给“贵人们”。
“列夫·尼古拉耶维奇在自己父母去世后是尼古拉·安德列伊奇·帕夫利谢夫抚养的，”他乘与伊万·彼得罗维奇目光相遇时插话说。
“非－常－高－兴，”那人说，“我甚至记得很清楚，刚才伊万·费奥多罗维奇介绍我们认识时，我马上就认出您了，甚至是从面相上认出的，说真的您长相变得很少，虽然我过去看见您时，您还只是个１０岁或１１岁的孩子。您的五官有某种东西使人想得起……”
“我小时候您见过我？”公爵异常惊讶地问。
“哦，那已经是很久以前了，”伊万·彼得罗维奇继续说，“在兹拉托维尔霍沃，当时您住在我的表姐妹那里。我过去经常去兹拉托维尔霍沃，您不记得我吗？很可能不记得了……您那时……患什么病，有一次我甚至对您感到很奇怪……”
“一点也记不得了！”公爵急切地承认道。
又作了一番解释。就伊万·彼得罗维奇来说是极为平静的，而对公爵来说却激动得惊人。原来，注在兹拉托维尔霍沃庄园里的两位女地主，上了年纪的老姑娘是已故帕夫利谢夫的亲戚，公爵就被托付给她们培养，而她们又是伊万·彼得罗维奇的表姐妹。伊万·波得罗维奇也像其他人一样，几乎一点也不能解释帕夫利谢夫如此关怀自己的养子小公爵的原因。“当时忘了询问一下这件事，”但毕竟他有卓绝的记忆力，因为他甚至记起了他表姐玛尔法·尼基季什娜对这个小养子有多严厉，“有一次我甚至为教育方法跟她吵了一架，因为对一个患病的孩子老是体罚，体罚……这可是……您自己也会同意的……”－－相反，表妹纳塔莉娅·尼基季什娜对病孩却非常温柔……“她们俩现在已经住在某省了（只是我不知道，现在是否还活着？），”他继续说明着，“在那里她们从帕夫利谢夫那儿得到了一处相当不错的小庄园。玛尔法·尼基季什娜好像想进修道院；不过我不能肯定；也许我听说的是另一个人……对了，不久前听说是大夫的太太要进修道院……”
公爵听完这一切时，眼睛里闪现出欢喜和感动的神情。他异常急切地声称，永远也不能原谅自己，在自己去内地省份的六个月中他竟没有找出机会寻找和探访自己过去的养育者。“我每天都想去，可老是因为各种各样的事务脱不开身……但现在我保证……一定要去……哪怕是在某省……这么说您是了解纳培莉娅·尼基季什娜的喏？她有一颗多么美好、多么神圣的心灵啊！玛尔法·厄基季什娜也是……请原谅，您好像错怪了玛尔法·尼基季什娜！她是严厉，但是……要知道，对于当时我这么一个白痴（嘻－嘻！）……确实不能不失去耐心。您不会相信，我那时可完全是个白痴（哈－哈！）不过……不过您那时看见过我，而且……请问，我怎么会不记得您？这么说，您……啊，我的上帝，难道您真的是尼古拉·安德列伊奇·帕夫利谢夫的亲戚？”
“我－请－您－相－信，”伊万。彼得罗维奇打量着公爵，莞尔一笑说。
“哦，我可不是因为我……怀疑……才这么说……再说，难道可以怀疑这种事吗？（嘻－嘻！）……哪怕只是怀疑一点点！……也就是说甚至哪怕一点儿也不行！（嘻－嘻！）但我是想说，已故的尼古拉·安德列伊奇·帕夫利谢夫是个非常好的人，一个极为豁达慷慨的人，真的，我请您相信！”
公爵并非是喘不上气来，可以说，是“心里美得噎住了”，这是第二天上午阿杰莱达在跟自己的未婚夫ω公爵谈话时形容的。
“啊，我的天哪！”伊万·彼得罗维奇大笑着说，“为什么我就不能是一个豁达慷慨的人，真的，我请您相信！”
“啊，我的上帝！”公爵喊了起来。他又窘又急，越来越亢奋。“我……我又说了蠢话，但是……这是必然的，因为我……我……我，不过我又不该说这些！再说怀着这样的兴趣……怀着这么巨大的兴趣……请说，我现在能做什么！而且跟这么豁达慷慨的人相比，——因为，真的，他可是个豁达慷慨的人，不对吗？不对吗？”
公爵甚至全身打颤。为什么他忽然这么惶恐不安？为什么有这种大受感动的狂热？这种狂热完全无缘无故，好像与谈话的内容也丝毫不相适宜——这是很难解答的。他就是这么一种心态，在此刻对某人和某事甚至怀着最热烈和衷心的感激之情，——也许，甚至是对伊万·彼得罗维奇，几乎是对所有的宾客。他是“太幸福了”。终于伊万·彼得罗维奇开始对他仔细打量起来，比原先要专注得多；那位“达官显要老头”也凝神端详起他来。别洛孔斯卡娅紧闭嘴唇，用一种忿忿的目光盯着公爵。Ｎ公爵，叶甫盖尼·帕夫洛维奇，ω公爵，小姐们全部停止了谈话，听着他讲。阿格拉娅似乎谅恐不已，叶莉扎维塔·普罗科菲耶夫娜简直害怕极了。这母女们也令人奇怪：是她们事先认为并决定整个晚上公爵最好坐着不开口；但是刚才看见他完全孤零零、恬然自得地呆在角落里时，她们又立即不放心起来。亚历山德拉于是想走到他那儿去，她小心翼翼地穿过整个房间，参加到他们那一伙人中去，也就是在别洛孔斯卡娅旁边的Ｎ公爵那一群人，而公爵自己刚开始说话，她们便更加惶惶不安。
“说到他是非常好的人：您是对的，”伊万·彼得罗维奇已经不再微笑，威严地说，“是的，是的……这是个很好的人！很好的和可敬的人！”停了一会他补充说，“甚至可以说他无愧受到各种尊敬！”在第三次停顿以后，他更威严地说，“我……我很愉快看到您对他……”
“是不是这个帕夫利谢夫出过一桩……怪事……跟一个天主教神父……跟一个天主教神父……我忘了，是跟哪一个天主教神父，只不过当时大家都议论看什么，”“达官显贵”似乎一边回忆一边说。
“跟古罗神父，耶稣会教上！”伊万·彼得罗维奇提醒说，“是啊，这就是我们的非常好的和可敬的人！因为他毕竟是望族，有财产，宫廷高级侍从，如果……继续任职的话……他却忽然抛弃了职务和一切，要改信天主教，做一名耶稣会教徒，而且还几乎是公开的，带着一股狂热。说真的，恰好他死了……是啊，当时大家都在谈论……”
公爵失去自控了。
“帕夫利谢夫……帕夫利谢夫改信天主教，这不可能！”他惊骇地喊了起来。
“嘿，‘不可能’。”伊万·彼得罗维奇庄重又含混下清地说，“这就说得过分了，我亲爱的公爵，您自己也会同意的……下过，您对死者这么敬重……确实，这是个十分善良的人，我认为，古罗这个奸滑之徒所以能成功主要的原因也正在于此。但是您应该问问我，问问我，后来为这件事我遭到了多少麻烦和周折……正是跟这个古罗打交道！您想想，”他忽然转向老显贵说，“他们竟然想提出遗产要求，当时我甚至不得不采取最有力的措施……要他们放明白些……因为那都是些老手！惊－人－的老手！但是，上帝保佑，这事发生在莫斯科，我马上去找伯爵，我们终于使他们……明白过来了……”
“您不相信，您的话使我多么伤心和震惊！”公爵又大声说。
“我很遗憾；但是实际上这一切其实都是微不足道的，而且就像平常那样会以不值一提而告终；我深信这点。去年夏天，”他又转向显贵老头说，“据说，Ｋ伯爵夫人在国外也进了某座天主教的修道院；我们有些人一旦受到这些……刁滑之徒……的蛊惑……尤其是在国外，便不知怎么地坚持不住了。”
“我想，这全都是因为我们……疲劳的缘故，”老显贵摆出一副权威的口气懒洋洋地说，“嘿，他们那一套传道的方式……也很讲究，自有特色……还善于吓唬人。１８３２年在维也纳时也有人吓唬过我，请你们相信，不过我没有受诱惑，从他那里逃跑了，哈！哈！”
“我听说，老爷，您那时是跟美人列维茨卡娅伯爵夫人一起从维也纳逃到巴黎去的，抛弃了自己的职务，而不是逃避耶稣会，”突然别洛孔斯卡娅插嘴说。
“哎，要知道是逃避耶稣会，反正就是逃避耶稣会。”显贵老头因为愉快的回忆而放声笑着，接过话茬说，“您好像是很虔诚的，现在在年轻人中是很少能见到的，”他亲切地转向列夫·尼古拉耶维奇公爵，后者正张大了嘴巴听着，仍然显得非常惊愕；显贵老头显然想进一步了解公爵，出于某些原因他对公爵很感兴趣。
“帕夫利谢夫是个头脑清醒的人，是基督教徒，真诚的基督教徒，”公爵突然说，“他怎么会服从非基督教的……信仰？天主教反正是一种非基督教的信仰！”他忽然补充说。他双眼闪闪有神，望着前面，似乎是扫视着所有在场的人。
“咳，这就过分了，”显贵老头喃喃地说，同时惊讶地看了一眼伊万·费奥多罗维奇。
“天主教怎么是非基督教信仰？”伊万·彼得罗维奇在椅子上转过身来说，“那么是什么信仰？”
“首先是非基督教信仰！”公爵异常激动并又生硬得失去分寸地说，“这是第一；第二，罗马的天主教甚至比无神论还坏，这就是我的意见！是的，这就是我的意见！无神论仅仅是宣传没有上帝，而天主教走得更远：它宣传的是歪曲了的基督，被它诬蔑和凌辱了的基督，是反面的基督！它宣传的是反基督，我向你们起音，请你们相信！这是我个人早已持有的信念，而它却使我自己深为苦恼……罗马天主教认为，没有全世界的国家政权，教会就站不住脚，并高喊： Ｎｏｎ ｐＯｓｓｕｍｕｓ！＊据我看，罗马天主教甚至不是一种信仰，而完全是西罗马帝国的继续，它里面的一切，从信仰开始，都服从于这一思想。教皇占领了土地、尘世间的王位并拿起了剑；从那时起一切就是这样发展的，只是除了剑还加上了谎言、诡计、欺骗、狂热、迷信、凶恶，他们玩弄人民最神圣、最真实、最纯朴、最炽烈的感情，把一切一切都拿去换取金钱，换取卑劣的尘世的权力。这难道不是反基督吗？怎么会不从他们那里冒出无神论来呢？无神论就是从他们那里来的，就是从罗马天主教来的！无神论首先是从他们自己开始的：他们是否能自己信仰自己？无神论是从厌恶他们中得到加强的：它是他们的谎言和精神贫乏的产物！这就是无神论！在我们这儿不信宗教的还只是少数特殊的阶层，刚才叶甫盖尼·帕夫洛维奇说得很好，他们是失去了根的阶层；而在欧洲那边已经有人数多得可怕的人民群众开始不信教了，——起先是由于愚昧无知，由于受谎言的欺骗，而现在已经是出于狂热，出于对教会和基督教的憎恨！”
公爵停下来喘口气。他说得快得不得了。他脸色苍白，气喘吁吁。大家都彼此交换着眼色；但最后显贵老头公然放声大笑了。Ｎ公爵掏出带柄眼镜，目不转睛地端详起公爵来。日耳曼血统诗人从角落里走出来，移步走近桌子，露出不祥的微笑。
“您太夸－大－了，”伊万·彼得罗维奇带着一丝苦恼甚至似乎有点不好意思，拖长了声调说，“在那边的教会里也有一些值得尊敬和道德高尚的代表。”
“我决不是说教会的个别代表。我说的是罗马天主教的实质，我说的是罗马。难道教会会完全消失吗？我从来没有这么说过。”
“我同意，但这一切都是众所周知的，甚至——不需要……这是属于神学……”
＊拉丁语：我们不能。
“哦，不，哦，不！不光是属于神学，请您相信，不光是！它关系到我们，比您想象的要密切得多。我们还不能看到这件了绝不只是神学，这正是我们的错误所在！要知道社会主义也是天主教和天主教本质的产物！它就像它的兄弟无神论一样也来自于绝望，在道德意义上是与天主教背道而驰的，它是要取代宗教失去的道德权力，要满足切盼着的人类的精神渴望，不是用基督而是用暴力来拯救他们。这也是一种通过暴力的自由，这也是一种通过剑和血的联合！‘不许信奉上帝，不许有私有财产，不许有个性， ｆrａｔｅrｎｉｔ ｏｕ ｌａｍｏrｔ＊，两百万颗脑袋！’根据他们的所作所为你们将能了解他们——这点已经说过了！别以为这一切对于我们都是无害的，并不可怕；哦，我们需要反击，而且要尽快、尽快！应该使我们的基督发出光芒给西方以反击！我们保留的基督，他们是不知道的！我们现在应该站在他们面前，不是盲从地上耶稣会教士的钩，而应该把我们俄罗斯的文明带给他们，但愿我们的人不要说他们的传教方式很讲究，就像刚才谁说的那样……”
“但是对不起，对不起，”伊万·彼得罗维奇万分不安地说，他环顾着周围，甚至开始害怕起来，“所有您的这些想法当然是应该受到赞扬的，它们充满了爱国主义，但是这一切是极为夸大了的……甚至最好还是不对这个……”
“不，没有夸大，不如说是缩小了；恰恰是缩小了，因为我不会表达，但是……”
“对－不－起！”
公爵闭口不说了。他挺直身子坐在椅子上，火一般的炽热目光一动不动地望着伊万·彼得罗维奇。
“我觉得，您恩人的事已经使您过分受震惊了，”显贵老头亲切而不失平静地指出，“您现在很激昂……也许，是因为孤独的缘故。倘若您多与人们交往，而在上流社会里，我希望，人们将会乐于接待您这么一位优秀的年轻人，那么，当然，你将会使您的激奋平静下来并会看到，所有这一切简单得多。何况，之所以发生……这样一些罕见的事例，据我看，部分地是由于我们的饱食厌足，部分是由于……百无聊赖。”
“正是这样，正是这样，”公爵大声嚷道，“绝妙的思想！正是‘由于百无聊赖，由于我们的百无聊赖’，不是由于饱食厌足，相反，是由于饥渴……不是由于饱食厌足，这一点您弄错了！不仅仅是由于饥渴，甚至是由于炽热的激情，由于热切的饥渴！而且……而且您别认为这是没什么大不了的，可以一笑了之；请原谅，应该善于预感！我们的人只是到了岸才相信，这就是岸，于是高兴得马上就要走到最终极限；这是为什么？你们对帕夫利谢夫感到惊讶，你们一切都归咎于他的疯狂或善良，但这不是这么回事！在这种情况下我们俄罗斯的强烈激情不光使我们也使整个欧洲惊讶。如果我们这里有人改信天主教，那么他一定会成为耶稣会教徒，而且还是最秘密的；如果有人成为无神论者，那么一定会开始要求用暴力来铲除对上帝的信仰，也就是用剑！这是为什么，为什么一下子这么狂暴？难道你们不知道？这是因为他发现了过去在这里忽略了的祖国，因此十分高兴；他发现了岸，土地，便扑下去吻它！俄国无神论者的产生可并不光是因为虚荣心，可并不全是因为可恶的虚荣感，而是因为精神痛苦，因为精神饥渴，因为向往崇高的事业、怀念坚实的岸、怀念他们原来不再相信的祖国，因为他们从来也没有了解过它！俄国人成为无神论者太容易了，比全世界其他各国人更容易！并且，我们的人不光是做一个无神论者，而且还一定信奉无神论，把它作为一种新的信仰，却丝毫没有发现他们信奉的是虚无。我们的人的饥渴就是这样的！‘谁脚下没有立足点，谁也就没有上帝！’这不是我的话，这是我在旅途中遇到的一个旧派教徒商人说的。说真的，他原活不是这么说的，他说：‘谁放弃了故土，谁也就放弃了自己的上帝。’只要想一想，我们一些最有文化教养的人居然也会加入鞭身派……不过，在这种情况下，鞭身派有什么比虚无主义、耶稣会、无神论更不好呢？甚至，也许还更深刻些：但是可见苦闷达到了什么地步！……为那些饥渴的和饥渴得发狂的哥仑布们去发现‘新大陆’之岸吧，为俄国人去发现俄国的‘新大陆’吧，让我们去为他们寻找不为他们所知、隐藏在地下的这金矿、这宝库吧：请向他们展示，将来也许唯有俄国的思想、俄国的上帝和基督才能使上人类复活和复兴，你们将会看到．一个多么强大和真实、英明和温顺的巨人将在惊讶的世界面前成长，在惊讶的和恐惧的世界面前成长，因为他们期待着我们的就只是剑，剑和暴力，因为他们以己度人，不能想象我们可以没有野蛮。迄今为止就是这样，而且越来越厉害！而且……”
＊法语：博爱或死亡。
但是这时忽然发生了一件事，因而演说者的话也就极为出人意料地被中断了。
整个这一篇激昂的长篇大论，整个这一堆仿佛乱糟糟拥积在一起、一句超越另一句的热烈不安的言辞和激越亢奋的思想，这一切预示着这个显然无缘无故突然谈兴勃发的年轻人正处于某种危险的特殊的心态之中。客厅里在场的人中所有了解公爵的人都提心吊胆地（有的还羞愧地）对他的牵动感到惊讶，因为这不符合他往昔的举止，平时他拘谨得甚至羞法，在别的场合他表现出少有的和特别的分寸和对上等礼仪的本能的敏感。人们无法理解，为什么会是这样：关于帕夫利谢夫的消息并不是原因。女客们从她们的角落里望着他，把他看作是疯子，而别洛孔斯卡娅后来承认“再过１分钟，她已经想溜之大吉了”。“达官显贵”老头由于最初的惊讶而几乎不知所措；叶潘钦的将军上司在自己的椅子上不满而严厉地望着。上校工程师坐着一动不动。德裔诗人甚至脸色都发白了，但仍然虚假地微笑看望着别人，看人家怎么反应？不过，所有这一切以及整个这件丑事，甚至也许只要再过１分钟，就可以以最平常自然的方式得到解决；异常吃惊，但比别人更早醒悟的伊万·费奥多罗维奇已经几次试图去制止公爵，没有成功，现在他怀着坚定果断的目的朝公爵走去，再过１分钟，如果需要这样做的话，他大概会下决心客客气气地把公爵带走，就借口说他有病，也许，情况确实是这样，伊万·费奥多罗维奇暗自也非常相信是这样……但是事态却以另一种方式发展着。
还在刚走进客厅之初，公爵就尽可能坐得离阿格拉娅用来吓唬他的那只中