The possessed or, The devils
officer who had sat the whole evening at Virginsky's with a pencil in
his hand and a notebook before him. He had not long been in the town;
he lodged alone with two old women, sisters, in a secluded by-street and
was shortly to leave the town; a meeting at his house was less likely
to attract notice than anywhere. This strange boy was distinguished by
extreme taciturnity: he was capable of sitting for a dozen evenings in
succession in noisy company, with the most extraordinary conversation
going on around him, without uttering a word, though he listened with
extreme attention, watching the speakers with his childlike eyes. His
face was very pretty and even had a certain look of cleverness. He did
not belong to the quintet; it was supposed that he had some special job
of a purely practical character. It is known now that he had nothing of
the sort and probably did not understand his position himself. It was
simply that he was filled with hero-worship for Pyotr Stepanovitch,
whom he had only lately met. If he had met a monster of iniquity who had
incited him to found a band of brigands on the pretext of some romantic
and socialistic object, and as a test had bidden him rob and murder the
first peasant he met, he would certainly have obeyed and done it. He had
an invalid mother to whom he sent half of his scanty pay--and how
she must have kissed that poor little flaxen head, how she must have
trembled and prayed over it! I go into these details about him because I
feel very sorry for him.
"Our fellows" were excited. The events of the previous night had made a
great impression on them, and I fancy they were in a panic. The simple
disorderliness in which they had so zealously and systematically taken
part had ended in a way they had not expected. The fire in the night,
the murder of the Lebyadkins, the savage brutality of the crowd with
Liza, had been a series of surprises which they had not anticipated in
their programme. They hotly accused the hand that had guided them of
despotism and duplicity. In fact, while they were waiting for Pyotr
Stepanovitch they worked each other up to such a point that they
resolved again to ask him for a definite explanation, and if he evaded
again, as he had done before, to dissolve the quintet and to found
instead a new secret society "for the propaganda of ideas" and on
their own initiative on the basis of democracy and equality. Liputin,
Shigalov, and the authority on the peasantry supported this plan;
Lyamshin said nothing, though he looked approving. Virginsky hesitated
and wanted to hear Pyotr Stepanovitch first. It was decided to hear
Pyotr Stepanovitch, but still he did not come; such casualness added
fuel to the flames. Erkel was absolutely silent and did nothing but
order the tea, which he brought from his landladies in glasses on a
tray, not bringing in the samovar nor allowing the servant to enter.
Pyotr Stepanovitch did not turn up till half-past eight. With rapid
steps he went up to the circular table before the sofa round which the
company were seated; he kept his cap in his hand and refused tea. He
looked angry, severe, and supercilious. He must have observed at once
from their faces that they were "mutinous."
"Before I open my mouth, you've got something hidden; out with it."
Liputin began "in the name of all," and declared in a voice quivering
with resentment "that if things were going on like that they might as
well blow their brains out." Oh, they were not at all afraid to blow
their brains out, they were quite ready to, in fact, but only to serve
the common cause (a general movement of approbation). So he must be more
open with them so that they might always know beforehand, "or else what
would things be coming to?" (Again a stir and some guttural sounds.) To
behave like this was humiliating and dangerous. "We don't say so because
we are afraid, but if one acts and the rest are only pawns, then one
would blunder and all would be lost." (Exclamations. "Yes, yes." General
approval.)
"Damn it all, what do you want?"
"What connection is there between the common cause and the petty
intrigues of Mr. Stavrogin?" cried Liputin, boiling over. "Suppose he
is in some mysterious relation to the centre, if that legendary centre
really exists at all, it's no concern of ours. And meantime a murder has
been committed, the police have been roused; if they follow the thread
they may find what it starts from."
"If Stavrogin and you are caught, we shall be caught too," added the
authority on the peasantry.
"And to no good purpose for the common cause," Virginsky concluded
despondently.
"What nonsense! The murder is a chance crime; it was committed by Fedka
for the sake of robbery."
"H'm! Strange coincidence, though," said Liputin, wriggling.
"And if you will have it, it's all through you."
"Through us?"
"In the first place, you, Liputin, had a share in the intrigue yourself;
and the second chief point is, you were ordered to get Lebyadkin away
and given money to do it; and what did you do? If you'd got him away
nothing would have happened."
"But wasn't it you yourself who suggested the idea that it would be a
good thing to set him on to read his verses?"
"An idea is not a command. The command was to get him away."
"Command! Rather a queer word.... On the contrary, your orders were to
delay sending him off."
"You made a mistake and showed your foolishness and self-will. The
murder was the work of Fedka, and he carried it out alone for the sake
of robbery. You heard the gossip and believed it. You were scared.
Stavrogin is not such a fool, and the proof of that is he left the town
at twelve o'clock after an interview with the vice-governor; if there
were anything in it they would not let him go to Petersburg in broad
daylight."
"But we are not making out that Mr. Stavrogin committed the murder
himself," Liputin rejoined spitefully and unceremoniously. "He may have
known nothing about it, like me; and you know very well that I knew
nothing about it, though I am mixed up in it like mutton in a hash."
"Whom are you accusing?" said Pyotr Stepanovitch, looking at him darkly.
"Those whose interest it is to burn down towns."
"You make matters worse by wriggling out of it. However, won't you read
this and pass it to the others, simply as a fact of interest?"
He pulled out of his pocket Lebyadkin's anonymous letter to Lembke and
handed it to Liputin. The latter read it, was evidently surprised, and
passed it thoughtfully to his neighbour; the letter quickly went the
round.
"Is that really Lebyadkin's handwriting?" observed Shigalov.
"It is," answered Liputin and Tolkatchenko (the authority on the
peasantry).
"I simply brought it as a fact of interest and because I knew you were
so sentimental over Lebyadkin," repeated Pyotr Stepanovitch, taking the
letter back. "So it turns out, gentlemen, that a stray Fedka relieves us
quite by chance of a dangerous man. That's what chance does sometimes!
It's instructive, isn't it?"
The members exchanged rapid glances.
"And now, gentlemen, it's my turn to ask questions," said Pyotr
Stepanovitch, assuming an air of dignity. "Let me know what business you
had to set fire to the town without permission."
"What's this! We, we set fire to the town? That is laying the blame on
others!" they exclaimed.
"I quite understand that you carried the game too far," Pyotr
Stepanovitch persisted stubbornly, "but it's not a matter of petty
scandals with Yulia Mihailovna. I've brought you here gentlemen,
to explain to you the greatness of the danger you have so stupidly
incurred, which is a menace to much besides yourselves."
"Excuse me, we, on the contrary, were intending just now to point out
to you the greatness of the despotism and unfairness you have shown
in taking such a serious and also strange step without consulting the
members," Virginsky, who had been hitherto silent, protested, almost
with indignation.
"And so you deny it? But I maintain that you set fire to the town, you
and none but you. Gentlemen, don't tell lies! I have good evidence. By
your rashness you exposed the common cause to danger. You are only one
knot in an endless network of knots--and your duty is blind obedience to
the centre. Yet three men of you incited the Shpigulin men to set fire
to the town without the least instruction to do so, and the fire has
taken place."
"What three? What three of us?"
"The day before yesterday, at three o'clock in the night, you,
Tolkatchenko, were inciting Fomka Zavyalov at the 'Forget-me-not.'"
"Upon my word!" cried the latter, jumping up, "I scarcely said a word
to him, and what I did say was without intention, simply because he had
been flogged that morning. And I dropped it at once; I saw he was too
drunk. If you had not referred to it I should not have thought of it
again. A word could not set the place on fire."
"You are like a man who should be surprised that a tiny spark could blow
a whole powder magazine into the air."
"I spoke in a whisper in his ear, in a corner; how could you have heard
of it?"
Tolkatchenko reflected suddenly.
"I was sitting there under the table. Don't disturb yourselves,
gentlemen; I know every step you take. You smile sarcastically, Mr.
Liputin? But I know, for instance, that you pinched your wife black and
blue at midnight, three days ago, in your bedroom as you were going to
bed."
Liputin's mouth fell open and he turned pale. (It was afterwards found
out that he knew of this exploit of Liputin's from Agafya, Liputin's
servant, whom he had paid from the beginning to spy on him; this only
came out later.)
"May I state a fact?" said Shigalov, getting up.
"State it."
Shigalov sat down and pulled himself together.
"So far as I understand--and it's impossible not to understand it--you
yourself at first and a second time later, drew with great eloquence,
but too theoretically, a picture of Russia covered with an endless
network of knots. Each of these centres of activity, proselytising
and ramifying endlessly, aims by systematic denunciation to injure the
prestige of local authority, to reduce the villages to confusion,
to spread cynicism and scandals, together with complete disbelief in
everything and an eagerness for something better, and finally, by means
of fires, as a pre-eminently national method, to reduce the country at
a given moment, if need be, to desperation. Are those your words which
I tried to remember accurately? Is that the programme you gave us as the
authorised representative of the central committee, which is to this day
utterly unknown to us and almost like a myth?"
"It's correct, only you are very tedious."
"Every one has a right to express himself in his own way. Giving us
to understand that the separate knots of the general network already
covering Russia number by now several hundred, and propounding the
theory that if every one does his work successfully, all Russia at a
given moment, at a signal..."
"Ah, damn it all, I have enough to do without you!" cried Pyotr
Stepanovitch, twisting in his chair.
"Very well, I'll cut it short and I'll end simply by asking if we've
seen the disorderly scenes, we've seen the discontent of the people,
we've seen and taken part in the downfall of local administration, and
finally, we've seen with our own eyes the town on fire? What do you find
amiss? Isn't that your programme? What can you blame us for?"
"Acting on your own initiative!" Pyotr Stepanovitch cried furiously.
"While I am here you ought not to have dared to act without my
permission. Enough. We are on the eve of betrayal, and perhaps to-morrow
or to-night you'll be seized. So there. I have authentic information."
At this all were agape with astonishment.