Текст книги "The Idiot"
Автор книги: Федор Достоевский
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Текущая страница: 47 (всего у книги 51 страниц)
The prince did not know yet that the Epanchins had left; he was struck, turned pale; but a moment later he shook his head, embarrassed and pensive, and admitted that "it had to be so"; after which he quickly asked "where did they go?"
Evgeny Pavlovich meanwhile watched him intently, and all of it —that is, the quickness of the questions, their simple-heartedness, the embarrassment, and at the same time some strange frankness, anxiousness, and agitation—all of it surprised him not a little. He, however, told the prince about everything courteously and in detail: there were many things the prince still did not know, and this was his first news from that house. He confirmed that Aglaya had indeed been sick, in a fever, and had hardly slept for three nights; that she was better now and out of all danger, but in a nervous, hysterical condition . . . "It's already a good thing that there is perfect peace in the house! They try not to allude to what happened, even among themselves, not only in front of Aglaya. The parents have discussed between them the possibility of going abroad in the autumn, right after Adelaida's wedding; Aglaya received the first mention of it in silence." He, Evgeny Pavlovich, might also go abroad. Even Prince Shch. might decide to go, for a couple of months, with Adelaida, if his affairs permitted. The general himself would stay. They had now all moved to Kolmino, their estate, about twenty miles from Petersburg, where they had a roomy mansion. Princess Belokonsky had not yet gone to Moscow and, it seemed, was even staying on purpose. Lizaveta Prokofyevna had strongly insisted that it was impossible to remain in Pavlovsk after all that had happened; he, Evgeny Pavlovich, had informed her every day of the rumors going around town. They also had not found it possible to settle in their dacha on Elagin Island.
"Well, yes, and in fact," Evgeny Pavlovich added, "you'll agree yourself, how could they stand it . . . especially knowing all that goes on here every hour, in your house, Prince, and after your daily visits there, despite the refusals . . ."
"Yes, yes, yes, you're right, I wanted to see Aglaya Ivanovna . . ." The prince again began shaking his head.
"Ah, my dear Prince," Evgeny Pavlovich exclaimed suddenly, with animation and sadness, "how could you have allowed ... all
that to happen? Of course, of course, it was all so unexpected for you ... I agree that you were bound to be at a loss and . . . you couldn't have stopped the crazy girl, that was beyond your power! But you ought to have understood how serious and strong the girl's . . . attitude towards you was. She didn't want to share with the other one, and you . . . and you could abandon and break such a treasure!"
"Yes, yes, you're right; yes, I'm to blame," the prince said again in terrible anguish, "and you know: only she, only Aglaya, looked at Nastasya Filippovna that way . . . No one else looked at her that way."
"But that's what makes it so outrageous, that there was nothing serious in it!" cried Evgeny Pavlovich, decidedly carried away. "Forgive me, Prince, but . . . I . . . I've thought about it, Prince; I've thought a lot about it; I know everything that happened before, I know everything that happened half a year ago, everything, and– it was all not serious! It was all only a cerebral infatuation, a picture, a fantasy, smoke, and only the frightened jealousy of a totally inexperienced girl could have taken it for something serious!"
Here Evgeny Pavlovich, now completely without ceremony, gave free rein to all his indignation. Sensibly and clearly and, we repeat, even extremely psychologically, he unfolded before the prince the picture of all the prince's relations with Nastasya Filippovna. Evgeny Pavlovich had always had a gift for speaking; now he even attained to eloquence. "From the very beginning," he pronounced, "you began with a lie; what began with a lie was bound to end with a lie; that is a law of nature. I don't agree and even feel indignant when they—well, whoever—call you an idiot; you're too intelligent to be called that; but you're strange enough not to be like all other people, you'll agree. I've decided that the foundation of all that has happened was composed, first, of your, so to speak, innate inexperience (note that word, Prince: 'innate'), then of your extraordinary simple-heartedness; further, of a phenomenal lack of the sense of measure (which you've admitted several times)—and, finally, of an enormous, flooding mass of cerebral convictions, which you, with all your extraordinary honesty, have taken all along for genuine, natural, and immediate convictions! You yourself will agree, Prince, that your relations with Nastasya Filippovna from the very beginning had something conventionally democraticabout them (I put it that way for the sake of brevity), the charm, so to speak, of the 'woman question' (to put it still more briefly). I know
in exact detail that whole strange, scandalous scene that took place at Nastasya Filippovna's when Rogozhin brought his money. If you like, I'll analyze you for yourself, counting off on my fingers; I'll show you to yourself as in a mirror, so exactly do I know what it was about and why it turned out that way! You, a young man, longed for your native land in Switzerland, you strained towards Russia as towards a promised but unknown land; you read a lot of books about Russia, excellent books, perhaps, but harmful for you; you arrived with the initial fervor of the desire to act, you, so to speak, fell upon action! And so, on that same day they tell you a sad, heart-stirring story about an offended woman, they tell you, that is, a knight, a virgin, about a woman! On that same day you meet the woman; you're enchanted by her beauty, her fantastic, demonic beauty (I do agree that she's a beauty). Add nerves, add your falling sickness, add our nerve-shattering Petersburg thaw; add that whole day in an unknown and almost fantastic city, a day of encounters and scenes, a day of unexpected acquaintances, a day of the most unexpected reality, a day of the three Epanchin beauties, and Aglaya among them; add fatigue, dizziness; add Nastasya Filippovna's drawing room and the tone of that drawing room, and . . . what do you think you could have expected of yourself at that moment?"
"Yes, yes; yes, yes," the prince was shaking his head and beginning to blush, "yes, it was almost so; and, you know, I actually hardly slept all the previous night, on the train, or the night before, and I was very disconcerted ..."
"Well, of course, that's what I'm driving at," Evgeny Pavlovich went on vehemently. "It's clear that, drunk with rapture, you fell upon the opportunity of publicly proclaiming the magnanimous thought that you, a born prince and a pure man, did not find dishonorable a woman who had been disgraced through no fault of her own, but through the fault of a loathsome high-society debaucher. Oh, Lord, it's so understandable! But that's not the point, my dear Prince, the point is whether there was truth here, whether your feeling was genuine, was it natural, or was it only a cerebral rapture? What do you think: a woman was forgiven in the Temple, 46the same sort of woman, but was she told that she had done well and was worthy of all honor and respect? Didn't common sense whisper to you, after three months, telling you what it was about? Let her be innocent now—I don't insist, because I have no wish to—but can all her adventures justify such unbearable
demonic pride as hers, such insolent, such greedy egoism? Forgive me, Prince, I'm getting carried away, but . . ."
"Yes, that all may be; it may be that you're right . . ." the prince began to murmur again, "she really is very edgy, and you're right, of course, but ..."
"She deserves compassion? Is that what you want to say, my good Prince? But for the sake of compassion and for the sake of her good pleasure, was it possible to disgrace this other, this lofty and pure girl, to humiliate her before thosearrogant, before those hateful eyes? How far can compassion go, then? That is an incredible exaggeration! Is it possible, while loving a girl, to humiliate her so before her rival, to abandon her for the other one, right in front of that other one, after making her an honorable proposal yourself. . . and you did make her a proposal, you said it to her in front of her parents and sisters! Are you an honorable man after that, Prince, may I ask? And . . . and didn't you deceive a divine girl, after assuring her that you loved her?"
"Yes, yes, you're right, ah, I feel I'm to blame!" the prince said in inexpressible anguish.
"But is that enough?" Evgeny Pavlovich cried in indignation. "Is it sufficient merely to cry out: 'I'm to blame!' You're to blame, and yet you persist! And where was your heart then, your 'Christian' heart! You saw her face at that moment: tell me, did she suffer less than thatone, than yourother one, her rival? How could you see it and allow it? How?"
"But ... I didn't allow it . . ." murmured the unhappy prince.
"What do you mean you didn't?"
"By God, I didn't allow anything. I still don't understand how it all came about . . . I—I ran after Aglaya Ivanovna then, and Nastasya Filippovna fainted; and since then I haven't been allowed to see Aglaya Ivanovna."
"All the same! You should have run after Aglaya, even though the other one fainted!"
"Yes . . . yes, I should have . . . but she would have died! She would have killed herself, you don't know her, and ... all the same, I'd have told everything to Aglaya Ivanovna afterwards, and . . . You see, Evgeny Pavlych, I can see that you don't seem to know everything. Tell me, why won't they let me see Aglaya Ivanovna? I'd have explained everything to her. You see: neither of them talked about the right thing, not about the right thing at all, that's why it turned out like this . . . There's no way I can explain it to
you; but I might be able to explain it to Aglaya . . . Ah, my God, my God! You speak of her face at the moment she ran out. . . oh, my God, I remember! Let's go, let's go!" he suddenly pulled Evgeny Pavlovich's sleeve, hurriedly jumping up from his seat.
"Where?"
"Let's go to Aglaya Ivanovna, let's go right now! . . ."
"But I told you, she's not in Pavlovsk, and why go?"
"She'll understand, she'll understand!" the prince murmured, pressing his hands together in entreaty. "She'll understand that it's all not that,but something completely, completely different!"
"How is it completely different? Aren't you getting married all the same? That means you persist . . . Are you getting married or not?"
"Well, yes ... I am; yes, I am getting married!"
"Then how is it not that?"
"Oh, no, not that, not that! It makes no difference that I'm getting married, it doesn't matter!"
"It makes no difference and doesn't matter? It's not a trifling thing, is it? You're marrying a woman you love in order to make her happiness, and Aglaya Ivanovna sees and knows it, so how does it make no difference?"
"Happiness? Oh, no! I'm simply getting married; she wants it; and so what if I'm getting married, I . . . Well, it makes no difference! Only she would certainly have died. I see now that this marriage to Rogozhin was madness! I now understand everything I didn't understand before, and you see: when the two of them stood facing each other, I couldn't bear Nastasya Filippovna's face then . . . You don't know, Evgeny Pavlych" (he lowered his voice mysteriously), "I've never spoken to anyone about this, not even Aglaya, but I can't bear Nastasya Filippovna's face . . . You spoke the truth earlier about that evening at Nastasya Filippovna's; but there was one thing you left out, because you don't know it: I was looking at her face!That morning, in her portrait, I already couldn't bear it . . . Take Vera, Vera Lebedev, she has completely different eyes; I . . . I'm afraid of her face!" he added with extreme fear.
"Afraid?"
"Yes; she's—mad!" he whispered, turning pale.
"You know that for certain?" Evgeny Pavlovich asked with extreme curiosity.
"Yes, for certain; now it's certain; now, in these days, I've learned it quite certainly!"
"But what are you doing to yourself?" Evgeny Pavlovich cried out in alarm. "It means you're marrying out of some sort of fear? It's impossible to understand anything here . . . Even without loving her, perhaps?"
"Oh, no, I love her with all my soul! She's ... a child; now she's a child, a complete child! Oh, you don't know anything!"
"And at the same time you assured Aglaya Ivanovna of your love?"
"Oh, yes, yes!"
"How's that? So you want to love them both?"
"Oh, yes, yes!"
"Good heavens, Prince, what are you saying? Come to your senses!"
"Without Aglaya I ... I absolutely must see her! I . . . I'll soon die in my sleep; I thought last night that I was going to die in my sleep. Oh, if Aglaya knew, knew everything . . . that is, absolutely everything. Because here you have to know everything, that's the first thing! Why can we never know everythingabout another person when it's necessary, when the person is to blame! . . . However, I don't know what I'm saying, I'm confused; you struck me terribly . . . Can she really still have the same face as when she ran out? Oh, yes, I'm to blame! Most likely I'm to blame for everything! I still don't know precisely for what, but I'm to blame . . . There's something in it that I can't explain to you, Evgeny Pavlych, I lack the words, but.. . Aglaya Ivanovna will understand! Oh, I've always believed she would understand."
"No, Prince, she won't understand! Aglaya Ivanovna loved as a woman, as a human being, not as ... an abstract spirit. You know, my poor Prince: most likely you never loved either of them!"
"I don't know. .. maybe, maybe; you're right about many things, Evgeny Pavlych. You're extremely intelligent, Evgeny Pavlych; ah, my head's beginning to ache again, let's go to her! For God's sake, for God's sake!"
"I tell you, she's not in Pavlovsk, she's in Kolmino."
"Let's go to Kolmino, let's go now!"
"That is im-pos-sible!" Evgeny Pavlovich drew out, getting up.
"Listen, I'll write a letter; take a letter to her!"
"No, Prince, no! Spare me such errands, I cannot!"
They parted. Evgeny Pavlovich left with some strange convictions: and, in his opinion, it came out that the prince was slightly out of his mind. And what was the meaning of this facethat he
was afraid of and that he loved so much! And at the same time he might actually die without Aglaya, so that Aglaya might never know he loved her so much! Ha, ha! And what was this about loving two women? With two different loves of some sort? That's interesting . . . the poor idiot! And what will become of him now?
X
The prince, however, did not die before his wedding, either awake or "in his sleep," as he had predicted to Evgeny Pavlovich. He may indeed have slept poorly and had bad dreams, but in the daytime, with people, he seemed kind and even content, only sometimes very pensive, but that was when he was alone. They were hurrying the wedding; it was to take place about a week after Evgeny Pavlovich's call. Given such haste, even the prince's best friends, if he had any, were bound to be disappointed in their efforts to "save" the unfortunate madcap. There was a rumor that General Ivan Fyodorovich and his wife Lizaveta Prokofyevna were partly responsible for Evgeny Pavlovich's visit. But even if the two of them, in the immeasurable goodness of their hearts, might have wanted to save the pathetic madman from the abyss, they had, of course, to limit themselves to this one feeble attempt; neither their position, nor even, perhaps, the disposition of their hearts (as was natural) could correspond to more serious efforts. We have mentioned that even those around the prince partly rose up against him. Vera Lebedev, however, limited herself only to solitary tears and to staying home more and looking in on the prince less often than before. Kolya was burying his father at that time; the old man died of a second stroke eight days after the first. The prince shared greatly in the family's grief and in the first days spent several hours a day at Nina Alexandrovna's; he attended the burial and the church service. Many noticed that the public in the church met the prince and saw him off with involuntary whispers; the same thing happened in the streets and in the garden: when he walked or drove by, people talked, spoke his name, pointed at him, mentioned Nastasya Filippovna's name. She was looked for at the burial, but she was not at the burial. Neither was the captain's widow, whom Lebedev had managed to stop and cancel in time. The burial service made a strong and painful impression on the prince; he whispered to Lebedev, still in church, in reply to some
question, that it was the first time he had attended an Orthodox burial service and only from childhood did he remember one other burial in some village church.
"Yes, sir, it's as if it's not the same man lying there in the coffin, sir, as the one we set up so recently to preside over us, remember, sir?" Lebedev whispered to the prince. "Who are you looking for, sir?"
"Never mind, I just imagined . . ."
"Not Rogozhin?"
"Is he here?"
"In the church, sir."
"That's why it seemed I saw his eyes," the prince murmured in embarrassment. "And what . . . why is he here? Was he invited?"
"Never thought of it, sir. They don't know him at all, sir. There are all sorts of people here, the public, sir. Why are you so amazed? I often meet him now; this past week I met him some four times here in Pavlovsk."
"I haven't seen him once . . . since that time," the prince murmured.
Because Nastasya Filippovna had also never once told him that she had met him "since that time," the prince now concluded that Rogozhin was deliberately keeping out of sight for some reason. That whole day he was in great pensiveness; but Nastasya Filippovna was extraordinarily merry all day and all evening.
Kolya, who had made peace with the prince before his father's death, suggested (since it was an essential and urgent matter) inviting Keller and Burdovsky to be his groomsmen. He guaranteed that Keller would behave properly and might even "be of use," and for Burdovsky it went without saying, he was a quiet and modest man. Nina Alexandrovna and Lebedev pointed out to the prince that if the wedding was already decided on, why have it in Pavlovsk of all places, and during the fashionable summer season, why so publicly? Would it not be better in Petersburg and even at home? It was only too clear to the prince what all these fears were driving at; but he replied briefly and simply that such was the absolute wish of Nastasya Filippovna.
The next day Keller also came to see the prince, having been informed that he was a groomsman. Before coming in, he stopped in the doorway and, as soon as he saw the prince, held up his right hand with the index finger extended and cried out by way of an oath:
"I don't drink!"
Then he went up to the prince, firmly pressed and shook both his hands, and declared that, of course, at first, when he heard, he was against it, which he announced over the billiard table, and for no other reason than that he had intentions for the prince and was waiting every day, with the impatience of a friend, to see him married to none other than the Princess de Rohan; 47but now he could see for himself that the prince was thinking at least ten times more nobly than all of them "taken together!" For he wanted not brilliance, not riches, and not even honor, but only—truth! The sympathies of exalted persons were all too well known, and the prince was too exalted by his education not to be an exalted person, generally speaking! "But scum and all sorts of riffraff judge differently; in town, in the houses, at gatherings, in dachas, at concerts, in bars, over billiards, there was no other talk, no other cry than about the impending event. I hear they even want to organize a charivari under your windows, and that, so to speak, on the first night! If you need the pistol of an honest man, Prince, I'm ready to exchange a half-dozen noble shots, even before you get up the next morning from your honey bed." He also advised having a fire hose ready in the yard, in anticipation of a big influx of thirsty people at the church door; but Lebedev objected: "They'll smash the house to splinters," he said, "if there's a fire hose."
"This Lebedev is intriguing against you, Prince, by God! They want to put you into government custody, if you can imagine that, with everything, with your free will and your money, that is, with the two things that distinguish each of us from the quadrupeds! I've heard it, indeed I have! It's the real, whole truth!"
The prince remembered that he seemed to have heard something of the kind himself, but, naturally, he had paid no attention to it. This time, too, he only laughed and forgot it again at once, Lebedev actually was bustling about for a time; the man's calculations were always conceived as if by inspiration and, from excessive zeal, grew more complex, branched out, and moved away from their starting point in all directions; that was why he had succeeded so little in life. When afterwards, almost on the day of the wedding, he came to the prince with his repentance (he had an unfailing habit of always coming with his repentance to those he had intrigued against, especially if he had not succeeded), he announced to him that he was born a Talleyrand 48and in some unknown way had remained a mere Lebedev. Then he laid out his whole game before
him, which interested the prince enormously. By his own admission, he began by seeking the protection of exalted persons, in whom he might find support in case of need, and went to General Ivan Fyodorovich. General Ivan Fyodorovich was perplexed, very much wished the "young man" well, but declared that "for all his desire to save him, it was improper for him to act here." Lizaveta Prokofyevna did not want either to see or to hear him; Evgeny Pavlovich and Prince Shch. only waved him away. But he, Lebedev, did not lose heart and consulted a clever lawyer, a venerable old man, his great friend and almost his benefactor; the man concluded that the business was perfectly possible as long as there were competent witnesses to his derangement and total insanity, and with that, above all, the patronage of exalted persons. Lebedev did not despond here either, and once even brought a doctor to see the prince, also a venerable old man, a summer person, with an Anna on his neck, 49solely in order to reconnoiter the terrain, so to speak, to get acquainted with the prince and, not yet officially but, so to speak, in a friendly way, to inform him of his conclusions. The prince remembered the doctor calling on him; he remembered that the day before Lebedev had been nagging him about his being unwell, and when the prince resolutely rejected medicine, he suddenly showed up with the doctor, under the pretext that the two of them were just coming from Mr. Terentyev, who was very sick, and the doctor had something to tell the prince about the patient. The prince praised Lebedev and received the doctor with extreme cordiality. They at once got to talking about the sick Ippolit; the doctor asked for a more detailed account of the scene of the suicide, and the prince absolutely fascinated him with his story and his explanation of the event. They talked about the Petersburg climate, about the prince's own illness, about Switzerland, about Schneider. The doctor was so interested in the prince's stories and his account of Schneider's system of treatment that he stayed for two hours; he smoked the prince's excellent cigars all the while, and from Lebedev's side a most tasty liqueur appeared, brought by Vera, and the doctor, a married and family man, let himself go into particular compliments before Vera, which aroused profound indignation in her. They parted friends. Having left the prince, the doctor said to Lebedev that if all such people were taken into custody, who then would be the custodians? To the tragic account, on Lebedev's part, of the impending event, the doctor shook his head slyly and insidiously, and finally observed that, not to mention the fact that
"men marry all kinds of women," "this seductive individual, at least as far as he had heard, besides her immeasurable beauty, which in itself could attract a man of wealth, also possesses capital from Totsky and from Rogozhin, pearls and diamonds, shawls and furniture, and therefore the impending choice not only does not show any, so to speak, especially eye-striking stupidity on the dear prince's part, but even testifies to the cleverness of a subtle, worldly intelligence and calculation, and therefore contributes to the opposite conclusion, quite favorable to the prince .. ." This thought struck Lebedev as well; he stayed with that, and now, he added to the prince, "now you won't see anything from me but devotion and the shedding of blood; that's what I've come to say."
Ippolit, too, diverted the prince during those last days; he sent for him quite often. They lived nearby, in a small house; the little children, Ippolit's brother and sister, were glad of the dacha, because they could at least go to the garden to escape the sick boy; but the poor captain's widow remained entirely under his will and was wholly his victim; the prince had to separate and arbitrate between them every day, and the sick boy continued to call him his "nanny," at the same time not daring, as it were, not to despise him for his role as conciliator. He bore a big grudge against Kolya for hardly visiting him at all, staying first with his dying father and then with his widowed mother. He finally set up as the target of his mockery the impending marriage of the prince and Nastasya Filippovna, and ended by offending the prince and making him finally lose his temper: the prince stopped visiting him. Two days later the captain's widow came trudging in the morning and tearfully begged the prince please to come, otherwise that onewould eat her alive. She added that he wanted to reveal a big secret. The prince went. Ippolit wanted to make peace, wept, and after his tears, naturally, became still more spiteful, only he was afraid to show his spite. He was very sick, and everything indicated that he would now die soon. There was no secret, except for certain extreme entreaties, breathless, so to speak, from excitement (perhaps affected), to "beware of Rogozhin." "He's a man who won't give up what's his; he's not like you and me, Prince; if he wants to, he won't flinch at . . ." etc., etc. The prince began to inquire in more detail, wanting to obtain some facts; but there were no facts, except for Ippolit's personal feelings and impressions. To his extreme satisfaction, Ippolit ended by finally frightening the prince terribly. At first the prince did not want to answer certain particular
questions of his and only smiled at his advice "to run away, even abroad; there are Russian priests everywhere, you can be married there." But, finally, Ippolit ended with the following thought: "I'm only afraid for Aglaya Ivanovna: Rogozhin knows how much you love her; love for love; you've taken Nastasya Filippovna from him, he'll kill Aglaya Ivanovna; though she's not yours now, all the same it will be hard for you, won't it?" He achieved his goal; the prince went away no longer himself.
These warnings about Rogozhin came on the eve of the wedding. That same evening the prince saw Nastasya Filippovna for the last time before their marriage; but Nastasya Filippovna was unable to calm him down, and recently, on the contrary, had even increased his confusion still more. Before, that is, several days earlier, at her meetings with him, she had made every effort to divert him, and was terribly afraid of his sad look: she had even tried to sing for him; most often she told him all the funny things she could remember. The prince almost always pretended to laugh very much, and sometimes did in fact laugh at the brilliant intelligence and bright feeling with which she sometimes told a story, when she got carried away, and she often got carried away. Seeing the prince laugh, seeing the impression she made on him, she was delighted and felt proud of herself. But now her sadness and pensiveness grew with almost every hour. His opinion of Nastasya Filippovna was settled, otherwise, naturally, everything in her would now have seemed mysterious and incomprehensible. But he sincerely believed that she could still rise. He had said quite correctly to Evgeny Pavlovich that he sincerely and fully loved her, and his love for her indeed consisted in being drawn, as it were, towards some pitiful and sick child whom it was difficult and even impossible to abandon to its own will. He did not explain his feelings for her to anyone and even did not like talking about it, if it was impossible to avoid talking; and when he and Nastasya Filippovna sat together, they never discussed "feelings," as if they had both promised not to. Anyone could take part in their ordinary, cheerful, and animated conversation. Darya Alexeevna said afterwards that she had simply admired and rejoiced looking at them all that while.
But this view he had of the state of Nastasya Filippovna's soul and mind delivered him in part from many other perplexities. This was now a completely different woman from the one he had known some three months earlier. He did not brood, for instance, on why
she had run away from marrying him then, with tears, curses, and reproaches, but now insisted herself on a speedy marriage. "It means she's not afraid, as she was then, that marrying her would be his unhappiness," thought the prince. Such quickly reborn self-assurance could not, in his view, be natural to her. Nor, again, could this assurance come only from hatred of Aglaya: Nastasya Filippovna was capable of somewhat deeper feelings. Nor from fear of facing her life with Rogozhin. In short, all these reasons, together with the rest, might have had a share in it; but the clearest thing of all for him was that it was precisely what he had long suspected, and that the poor, sick soul had been unable to endure. All this, though it delivered him, in a way, from perplexities, could not give him either peace or rest all that time. Sometimes he tried not to think about anything; it did seem, in fact, that he looked upon marriage as some sort of unimportant formality; he valued his own fate much too cheaply. With regard to objections, to conversations, such as the one with Evgeny Pavlovich, here he could say decidedly nothing in reply and felt himself totally incompetent, and therefore he avoided all conversations of that sort.
