THE IDIOT & THE GAMBLER. Fyodor Dostoyevsky
to make haste about it. For his excellency might ask for you all of a sudden and you wouldn’t be here. You see the door under the stairs, go in there and there’s a little room on the right; you can smoke there, only you must open the window, for it’s against the rules. .
But Myshkin had not time to go and smoke. A young man with papers in his hands suddenly appeared in the anteroom. The footman began helping him off with his coat. The young man looked askance at Myshkin.
“This gentleman, Gavril Ardalionovitch,” the footman began confidentially and almost familiarly, “announces himself as Prince Myshkin and a relation of the mistress; he has just arrived from abroad with the bundle in his hand, only… .”
Myshkin could not catch the rest. As the footman began to whisper, Gavril Ardalionovitch listened attentively and looked with great interest at the prince. He ceased listening at last and approached him impatiently.
“You are Prince Myshkin?” he asked with extreme politeness and cordiality.
He was a very good-looking, well-built young man, also about eight-and-twenty, of medium height, with fair hair, a small, Napoleonic beard and a clever and very handsome face. Only his smile, with all its affability, was a trifle too subtle; it displayed teeth too pearl-like and even; in spite of his gaiety and apparent goodnature, there was something too intent and searching in his eyes.
“He must look quite different when he is alone and perhaps he never laughs at all,” was what Myshkin felt.
The prince briefly explained all he could, saying almost the same as he had to the footman and before that to Rogozhin. Meanwhile Gavril Ardalionovitch seemed recalling something.
“Was it you,” he asked, “who sent a letter to Lizaveta Prokofyevna a year ago, or even less, from Switzerland, I think?”
“Yes.”
“Then they know about you here and will certainly remember you. You want to see his excellency? I’ll announce you at once… . He will be at liberty directly. Only you ought … you had better step into the waiting-room… . Why is the gentleman here?” he asked the servant sternly.
“I tell you, he wouldn’t himself …”
At that moment the door from the study was thrown open and a military man with a portfolio in his hand bowed himself out, talking loudly.
“You are there, Ganya,” cried a voice from the study, “come here.”
Gavril Ardalionovitch nodded to Myshkin and went hastily into the study.
Two minutes later the door was opened again and the musical and affable voice of Gavril Ardalionovitch was heard:
“Prince, please come in.”
CHAPTER 3
General ivan fyodorcmtch epanchin stood in the middle of the room and looked with extreme curiosity at the young man as he entered. He even took two steps towards him. Myshkin went up to him and introduced himself.
“Quite so,” said the general, “what can I do for you?”
“I have no urgent business, my object is simply to make your acquaintance. I should be sorry to disturb you, as I don’t know your arrangements, or when you see visitors… . But I have only just come from the station… . I’ve come from Switzerland.”
The general was on the point of smiling, but on second thought he checked himself. Then he thought again, screwed up his eyes, scrutinised his visitor again from head to foot, then rapidly motioned him to a chair, sat down himself a little on one side of him, and turned to him in impatient expectation. Ganya was standing in the corner at the bureau, sorting papers.
“I have little time for making acquaintances as a rule,” observed the general, “but as you have no doubt some object… .”
“That’s just what I expected,” Myshkin interrupted, “that you would look for some special object in my visit. But I assure you I have no personal object except the pleasure of making your acquaintance.”
“It is of course a great pleasure to me too, but life is not all play, you know, one has work sometimes as well… . Moreover, so far, I haven’t been able to discover anything in common between us … any reason, so to speak… .”
“There certainly is no reason, and very little in common, of course. For my being Prince Myshkin and Madame Epanchin’s being of the same family is no reason, to be sure. I quite understand that. And yet it’s only that that has brought me. It’s more than four years since I was in Russia, and I left in such a state — almost out of my mind. I knew nothing then and less than ever now. I need to know good people; there is also a matter of business I must attend to, and I don’t know to whom to apply. The thought struck me at Berlin that you were almost relations, and so I would begin with you; we might perhaps be of use to one another — you to me and I to you — if you were good people, and I had heard that you were good people.”
“I am very much obliged to you,” said the general, surprised. “Allow me to inquire where are you staying?”
“I am not staying anywhere as yet.”
“So you’ve come straight from the train to me? And … with luggage?”
“All the luggage I have is a little bundle of my linen, I’ve nothing else; I generally carry it in my hand. I shall have time to take a room this evening.”
“So you still intend to take a room at a hotel?”
“Oh, yes, of course.”
“From your words I was led to suppose that you had come to stay here.”
“That might be, but only on your invitation. I confess, though, I wouldn’t stay even on your invitation, not for any reason, but simply … because I’m like that.”
“Then it’s quite as well that I haven’t invited you, and am not going to invite you. Allow me, prince, so as to make things clear once for all: since we have agreed already that there can be no talk of relationship between us, though it would of course be very flattering for me, there’s nothing but …”
“Nothing but to get up and go?” Myshkin got up, laughing with positive mirthfulness, in spite of all the apparent difficulty of his position. “And would you believe it, general, although I know nothing of practical life, nor of the customs here, yet I felt sure that this was how it was bound to be. Perhaps it is better so. And you didn’t answer my letter, then… . Well, goodbye, and forgive me for troubling you.”
Myshkin’s face was so cordial at that moment, and his smile so free from the slightest shade of anything like concealed ill-will, that the general was suddenly arrested and seemed suddenly to look at his visitor from a different point of view; the change of attitude took place all in a minute.
“But do you know, prince,” he said in a quite different voice, “I don’t know you, after all, and Lizaveta Prokofyevna will perhaps like to have a look at one who bears her name… . Stay a little, if you will, and if you have time.”
“Oh, I’ve plenty of time, my time is entirely my own.” And Myshkin at once laid his soft round hat on the table. “I confess I was expecting that Lizaveta Prokofyevna might remember that I had written to her. Ybur servant, while I was waiting just now, suspected I’d come to beg for assistance. I noticed that, and no doubt you’ve given strict orders on the subject. But I’ve really not come for that, I’ve really only come to get to know people. But I am only afraid I am in your way, and that worries me.”
“Well, prince,” said the general, with a goodhumoured smile, “if you really are the sort of person you seem to be, it will be pleasant to make your acquaintance, only I am a busy man, you see, and I’ll sit down again directly to look through and sign some things,