THE COMPLETE WORKS OF FYODOR DOSTOYEVSKY. Федор Достоевский
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it’s a delicate business, dreadfully delicate! H’m… . But do you know, though I was worrying, yet my heart was somehow aching with happiness all night. Well, goodbye, I must fly. They are waiting for me; I am late as it is. I only ran in to have a word with you. Oh, my God!” he cried, coming back, “I have forgotten what is most important! Do you know what? I have written to him, to Foma!”
“When?”
“In the night, and in the morning, at daybreak, I sent the letter by Vidoplyasov. I put it all before him on two sheets of paper, I told him everything truthfully and frankly, in short that I ought, that is, absolutely must — do you understand — make Nastenka an offer. I besought him not to say a word about our meeting in the garden, and I have appealed to all the generosity of his heart to help me with mamma. I wrote a poor letter, of course, my boy, but I wrote it from my heart and, so to say, watered it with my tears. …”
“Well? No answer?”
“So far no; only this morning when we were getting ready to set off, I met him in the hall in night attire, in slippers and nightcap — -he sleeps in a nightcap — he had come out of his room. He didn’t say a word, he didn’t even glance at me. I peeped up into his face, not a sign.”
“Uncle, don’t rely on him; he’ll play you some dirty trick.”
“No, no, my boy, don’t say so!” cried my uncle, gesticulating. “I am sure of him. Besides, you know, it’s my last hope. He will understand, he’ll appreciate it. He’s peevish, he’s capricious, I don’t deny it; but when it comes to a question of nobility, then he shines out like a pearl… . Yes, like a pearl. You think all that, Sergey, because you have never seen him yet when he is most noble … but, my God! if he really does spread abroad my secret of yesterday, then … I don’t know what will happen then, Sergey! What will be left me in the world that I can believe in? But no, he cannot be such a scoundrel. I am not worth the sole of hij shoe. Don’t shake your head, my boy; it’s true — I am not.”
“Yegor Ilyitch! Your mamma is anxious about you.” We hear from below the unpleasant voice of Miss Perepelitsyn, who had probably succeeded in hearing the whole of our conversation from the open window. “They are looking for you all over the house, and cannot find you.”
“Oh, dear, I am late! How dreadful!” cried my uncle in a fluster. “My dear boy, for goodness’ sake dress and come too. Why, it was just for that I ran in, so that we might go together. … I fly, I fly! Anna Nilovna, I fly!”
When I was left alone, I recalled my meeting with Nastenka that morning and was very glad I had not told my uncle of it; I should have upset him even more. I foresaw a great storm, and could not imagine how my uncle would arrange his plans and make an offer to Nastenka. I repeat: in spite of my faith in his honour, I could not help feeling doubtful of his success.
However, I had to make ha^te. I considered myself bound to assist him, and’at once began dressing; but as I wanted to be as well-dressed as possible, I was not very quick in spite of my haste. Mizintchikov walked in.
“I have come for you,” he said. “Yegor Ilyitch begs you to come at once.”
“Let us go!”
I was quite ready, we set off.
“What news there?” I asked on the way.
“They are all in Foma’s room, the whole party,” answered Mizintchikov. “Foma is not in bad humour, but he is somewhat pensive and doesn’t say much, just mutters through his teeth. He even kissed Uyusha, which of course delighted Yegor Ilyitch. He announced beforehand through Miss Perepelitsyn that they were not to congratulate him on the nameday, and that he had only wanted to test them… . Though the old lady keeps sniffing her smelling-salts, she is calm because Foma is calm. Of our adventure no one drops a hint, it is as though it had never happened; they hold their tongues because Foma holds his. He hasn’t let anyone in all the morning, though. While we were away the old lady implored him by all the saints to come that she might consult him, and indeed she hobbled down to the door herself; but he locked himself in and answered that he was praying for the human race, or something of the sort. He has got something up his sleeve, one can see that from his face. But as Yegor Ilyitch is incapable of seeing anything from anyone’s face, he is highly delighted now with Foma’s mildness; he is a regular baby! Ilyusha has prepared some verses, and they have sent me to fetch you.”
“And Tatyana Ivanovna?”
“What about Tatyana Ivanovna?”
“Is she there? With them?”
“No; she is in her own room,” Mizintchikov answered dryly. “She is resting and crying. Perhaps she is ashamed too. I believe that … governess is with her now. I say! surely it is not a storm coming on? Look at the sky!”
“I believe it is a storm,” I answered, glancing at a storm-cloud that looked black on the horizon.
At that moment we went up on to the terrace.
“Tell me, what do you think of Obnoskin, eh?” I went on, not able to refrain from probing Mizintchikov on that point.
“Don’t speak to me of him! Don’t remind me of that blackguard,” he cried, suddenly stopping, flushing red and stamping. “The fool! the fool! to ruin such a splendid plan, such a brilliant idea! Listen: I am an ass, of course, for not having detected what a rogue he is! — I admit that solemnly, and perhaps that admission is just what you want. But I swear if he had known how to carry it through properly, I should perhaps have forgiven him. The fool! the fool! And how can such people be allowed in society, how can they be endured I How is it they are not sent to Siberia, into exile, into prison! But that’s all nonsense, they won’t get over me! Now I have experience anyway, and we shall see who gets the best of it. I am thinking over a new idea now… . You must admit one can’t lose one’s object simply because some outside tool has stolen one’s idea and not known how to set about it. Why, it’s unjust! And, in fact, this Tatyana will inevitably be married, that’s her predestined fate. And if no one has put her into a madhouse up to now, it was just because it is still possible to marry her. I will tell you my new idea. …”
“But afterwards, I suppose,” I interrupted him, “for here we are.”
“Very well, very well, afterwards/’ Mi/intclukov answered, twisting his lips into a spasmodic smile. “And now… . But where are you going? I tell you, stiaight to Foma Fomitch’s room! Follow me; you have not been there yet. You will see another farce… . For it has really come to a farce.”
CHAPTER III
ILYUSHA’S NAMEDAY
FOMA occupied two large and excellent rooms; they were even better decorated than any other of the rooms in the house. The great man was surrounded by perfect comfort. The fresh and handsome wall-paper, the particoloured silk curtains on the windows, the rugs, the pier-glass, the fireplace, the softly upholstered elegant furniture — all testified to the tender solicitude of the family for Foma’s comfort. Pots of flowers stood in the windows and on little marble tables in front of the windows. In the middle of the study stood a large table covered with a red cloth and littered with books and manuscripts. A handsome bronze inkstand and a bunch of pens which Vidoplyasov had to look after — all this was to testify to the severe intellectual labours of Foma Fomiich. I will mention here by the way that though Foma had sat at that table for nearly eight years, he had composed absolutely nothing that was any good. Later on, when he had departed to a better world, we went through his manuscripts; they all turned out to be extraordinary trash. We found, for instance, the beginning of an historical novel, the scene of which was laid in Novgorod, in the seventh century; then a monstrous poem, “An Anchorite in the Churchyard”, written blank verse; then a meaningless meditation on the significance and characteristics of the Russian peasant, and how he should be treated; and finally “The Countess Vlonsky”, a