The possessed or, The devils
a detachment of men and the keys and ordered the cell to be opened
that they might rush in and bind the maniac, it appeared that he was
suffering from acute brain fever. He was taken home to his mother.
Everything was explained at once. All our three doctors gave it as their
opinion that the patient might well have been in a delirious state for
three days before, and that though he might have apparently been in
possession of full consciousness and cunning, yet he might have been
deprived of common sense and will, which was indeed borne out by the
facts. So it turned out that Liputin had guessed the truth sooner than
any one. Ivan Ossipovitch, who was a man of delicacy and feeling,
was completely abashed. But what was striking was that he, too, had
considered Nikolay Vsyevolodovitch capable of any mad action even when
in the full possession of his faculties. At the club, too, people were
ashamed and wondered how it was they had failed to "see the elephant"
and had missed the only explanation of all these marvels: there were,
of course, sceptics among them, but they could not long maintain their
position.
Nikolay was in bed for more than two months. A famous doctor was
summoned from Moscow for a consultation; the whole town called on
Varvara Petrovna. She forgave them. When in the spring Nikolay had
completely recovered and assented without discussion to his mother's
proposal that he should go for a tour to Italy, she begged him further
to pay visits of farewell to all the neighbours, and so far as possible
to apologise where necessary. Nikolay agreed with great alacrity. It
became known at the club that he had had a most delicate explanation
with Pyotr Pavlovitch Gaganov, at the house of the latter, who had been
completely satisfied with his apology. As he went round to pay these
calls Nikolay was very grave and even gloomy. Every one appeared to
receive him sympathetically, but everybody seemed embarrassed and glad
that he was going to Italy. Ivan Ossipovitch was positively tearful, but
was, for some reason, unable to bring himself to embrace him, even
at the final leave-taking. It is true that some of us retained the
conviction that the scamp had simply been making fun of us, and that the
illness was neither here nor there. He went to see Liputin too.
"Tell me," he said, "how could you guess beforehand what I should say
about your sense and prime Agafya with an answer to it?"
"Why," laughed Liputin, "it was because I recognised that you were a
clever man, and so I foresaw what your answer would be."
"Anyway, it was a remarkable coincidence. But, excuse me, did you
consider me a sensible man and not insane when you sent Agafya?"
"For the cleverest and most rational, and I only pretended to believe
that you were insane.... And you guessed at once what was in my mind,
and sent a testimonial to my wit through Agafya."
"Well, there you're a little mistaken. I really was... unwell..."
muttered Nikolay Vsyevolodovitch, frowning. "Bah!" he cried, "do you
suppose I'm capable of attacking people when I'm in my senses? What
object would there be in it?"
Liputin shrank together and didn't know what to answer. Nikolay turned
pale or, at least, so it seemed to Liputin.
"You have a very peculiar way of looking at things, anyhow," Nikolay
went on, "but as for Agafya, I understand, of course, that you simply
sent her to be rude to me."
"I couldn't challenge you to a duel, could I?"
"Oh, no, of course! I seem to have heard that you're not fond of
duels...."
"Why borrow from the French?" said Liputin, doubling up again.
"You're for nationalism, then?"
Liputin shrank into himself more than ever.
"Bah, bah! What do I see?" cried Nicolas, noticing a volume of Considérant
in the most conspicuous place on the table. "You don't mean to say
you're a Fourierist! I'm afraid you must be! And isn't this too
borrowing from the French?" he laughed, tapping the book with his
finger.
"No, that's not taken from the French," Liputin cried with positive
fury, jumping up from his chair. "That is taken from the universal
language of humanity, not simply from the French. From the language of
the universal social republic and harmony of mankind, let me tell you!
Not simply from the French!"
"Foo! hang it all! There's no such language!" laughed Nikolay.
Sometimes a trifle will catch the attention and exclusively absorb it
for a time. Most of what I have to tell of young Stavrogin will come
later. But I will note now as a curious fact that of all the impressions
made on him by his stay in our town, the one most sharply imprinted
on his memory was the unsightly and almost abject figure of the little
provincial official, the coarse and jealous family despot, the miserly
money-lender who picked up the candle-ends and scraps left from dinner,
and was at the same time a passionate believer in some visionary future
"social harmony," who at night gloated in ecstasies over fantastic
pictures of a future phalanstery, in the approaching realisation of
which, in Russia, and in our province, he believed as firmly as in his
own existence. And that in the very place where he had saved up to
buy himself a "little home," where he had married for the second time,
getting a dowry with his bride, where perhaps, for a hundred miles round
there was not one man, himself included, who was the very least like a
future member "of the universal human republic and social harmony."
"God knows how these people come to exist!" Nikolay wondered, recalling
sometimes the unlooked-for Fourierist.
IV
Our prince travelled for over three years, so that he was almost
forgotten in the town. We learned from Stepan Trofimovitch that he
had travelled all over Europe, that he had even been in Egypt and had
visited Jerusalem, and then had joined some scientific expedition to
Iceland, and he actually did go to Iceland. It was reported too that he
had spent one winter attending lectures in a German university. He did
not write often to his mother, twice a year, or even less, but Varvara
Petrovna was not angry or offended at this. She accepted submissively
and without repining the relations that had been established once for
all between her son and herself. She fretted for her "Nicolas" and
dreamed of him continually. She kept her dreams and lamentations to
herself. She seemed to have become less intimate even with Stepan
Trofimovitch. She was forming secret projects, and seemed to have become
more careful about money than ever. She was more than ever given to
saving money and being angry at Stepan Trofimovitch's losses at cards.
At last, in the April of this year, she received a letter from Paris
from Praskovya Ivanovna Drozdov, the widow of the general and the
friend of Varvara Petrovna's childhood. Praskovya Ivanovna, whom Varvara
Petrovna had not seen or corresponded with for eight years, wrote,
informing her that Nikolay Vsyevolodovitch had become very intimate
with them and a great friend of her only daughter, Liza, and that he was
intending to accompany them to Switzerland, to Verney-Montreux,
though in the household of Count K. (a very influential personage in
Petersburg), who was now staying in Paris. He was received like a son
of the family, so that he almost lived at the count's. The letter was
brief, and the object of it was perfectly clear, though it contained
only a plain statement of the above-mentioned facts without drawing any
inferences from them. Varvara Petrovna did not pause long to consider;
she made up her mind instantly, made her preparations, and taking with
her her protégée, Dasha (Shatov's sister), she set off in the middle of
April for Paris, and from there went on to Switzerland. She returned in
July, alone, leaving Dasha with the Drozdovs. She brought us the news
that the Drozdovs themselves had promised to arrive among us by the end
of August.
The Drozdovs, too, were landowners of our province, but the official
duties of General Ivan Ivanovitch Drozdov (who had been a friend
of Varvara Petrovna's and a colleague of her husband's) had always
prevented them from visiting their magnificent estate. On the death of
the general, which had taken place the year before, the inconsolable
widow had gone abroad with her daughter, partly in order to try the
grape-cure which she proposed to carry out at Verney-Montreux during the
latter half of the summer. On their return to Russia they intended to
settle in our province for good. She had a large house in the town which
had stood empty for many years with the windows nailed up. They were
wealthy people. Praskovya Ivanovna had been, in her first marriage, a
Madame Tushin, and like her school-friend, Varvara Petrovna, was the
daughter of a government contractor of the old school, and she too had
been an heiress at her marriage. Tushin, a retired cavalry captain, was
also a man of means, and of some ability. At his death he left a snug
fortune to his only daughter Liza, a child of seven. Now that Lizaveta
Nikolaevna was twenty-two her private fortune might confidently be
reckoned at 200,000 roubles, to say nothing of the property--which was
bound to come to her at the death of her mother, who had no children by
her second marriage. Varvara Petrovna seemed to be very well satisfied
with her expedition. In her own opinion she had succeeded in coming to
a satisfactory understanding with Praskovya Ivanovna, and immediately
on her arrival she confided everything to Stepan Trofimovitch. She was
positively effusive with him as she had not been for a very long time.
"Hurrah!" cried Stepan Trofimovitch, and snapped his fingers.
He was in a perfect rapture, especially as he had spent the whole time
of his friend's absence in extreme dejection. On setting off she had not
even taken leave of him properly, and had said nothing of her plan to
"that old woman," dreading, perhaps, that he might chatter about it.
She was cross with him at the time on account of a considerable gambling
debt which she had suddenly discovered. But before she left Switzerland
she had felt that on her return she must make up for it to her forsaken
friend, especially as she had treated him very curtly for a long time
past. Her abrupt and mysterious departure had made a profound and
poignant impression on the timid heart of Stepan Trofimovitch, and to
make matters worse he was beset with other difficulties at the same
time. He was worried by a very considerable money obligation, which had
weighed upon him for a long time and which he could never hope to meet
without Varvara Petrovna's assistance. Moreover, in the May of this
year, the term of office of our mild and gentle Ivan Ossipovitch came to
an end. He was superseded under rather unpleasant circumstances. Then,
while Varvara Petrovna was still away, there followed the arrival of
our new governor, Andrey Antonovitch von Lembke, and with that a change
began at once to be perceptible in the attitude of almost the whole
of our provincial society towards Varvara Petrovna, and consequently
towards Stepan Trofimovitch. He had already had time anyway to make some
disagreeable though valuable observations, and seemed very apprehensive
alone without Varvara Petrovna. He had an agitating suspicion that he
had already been mentioned to the governor as a dangerous man. He knew
for a fact that some of our ladies meant to give up calling on Varvara
Petrovna. Of our governor's wife (who was only expected to arrive in the
autumn) it was reported that though she was, so it was heard, proud,
she was a real aristocrat, and "not like that poor Varvara Petrovna."
Everybody seemed to know for a fact, and in the greatest detail, that
our governor's wife and Varvara Petrovna had met already in society and
had parted enemies, so that the mere mention of Madame von Lembke's name