STAVROGIN: And then . . .
PETER: We shall bring forth the new Tsar. (STAVROGIN looks at him and moves slowly away from him.)
STAVROGIN: I see. An impostor.
PETER: Yes. We’ll say that he £ hiding but that he is about to appear. He exists, but no one has seen him. Just imagine the force of that idea— «He is is hiding»! He can be shown perhaps to one out of a hundred thousand. And the rumor will spread over the whole country. «He has been seen.» Will you accept?
STAVROGIN: Accept what?
PETER: Why, being the new Tsar. STAVROGIN: Ah! So that’s your plan!
PETER: Yes. Just listen. With you it will be possible to build up a legend. You will have only to appear and you will be triumphant. At first, «he is hiding, he is hiding,» and we shall pronounce in your name two or three judgments of Solomon. If one request out of ten thousand is satisfied, all will turn to you. In every village each peasant will know that somewhere there is a box in which he can put his request. And throughout the country the rumor will spread! «A new law has been passed, a just law.» The seas will rise up and the old wooden hulk will sink. And then we can think of building in steel. Well? (STAVROGIN laughs in scorn.)
Oh, Stavrogin, don’t leave me alone. Without you I am like Columbus without America. Can you imagine Columbus without America? I, in turn, can help you. I’ll fix everything for you. Tomorrow I’ll bring you Lisa.
You want her; you want Lisa dreadfully, I know. Just one word and I’ll fix up everything. STAVROGIN (turning toward the window): And afterward, of course, you will have a hold on me. . . .
PETER: What does that matter? You will have a hold on Lisa. She is young and pure. . . . STAVROGIN (with an odd expression, as if fascinated): She is pure. . . . (PETER VERKHOVENSKY whistles piercingly.) What are you doing? (FEDKA appears.)
PETER: Here is a friend who can help us. Just say yes, Stavrogin—a simple yes—and Lisa is yours, and the world is ours.
STAVROGIN turns toward FEDKA, who is smiling calmly. From another room DASHA screams, bursts in, and throws herself on STAVROGIN.)
DASHA: Oh, Nicholas, I beg you, don’t stay with these men. Go and see Tihon—yes, Tihon, as I have already told you. Go and see Tihon. PETER: Tihon? Who is that?
FEDKA: A holy man. Don’t say anything bad about him, you little sneak; I forbid you.
PETER: Why? Did he help you kill someone? Does he too belong to the Church of Blood?
FEDKA: NO. / kill. But he forgives crime.
BLACKOUT
THE NARRATOR: Personally, I didn’t know Tihon.
I simply knew what was said of him in our town. The humble people attributed great holiness to him. But the authorities disapproved of his library, in which works of piety stood side by
side with plays and perhaps even worse. Offhand, I’d say there was no chance Stavrogin would pay him a visit.
SCENE 14
Tihon’s cell in the Convent of the Virgin, TIHON and STAVROGIN are standing.
STAVROGIN: Did my mother tell you I was mad? TIHON: NO. She didn’t talk of you exactly as of a madman. But she told me of a slap you received and of a duel. . . . (He sits down with a groan.) STAVROGIN: Are you ill?
TIHON: I have pains in my legs. And I don’t sleep very well.
STAVROGIN: Do you want me to leave you? TIHON: NO. Sit down! (STAVROGIN sits down with his hat in his hand, like a man observing ceremony. But he seems to have trouble breathing.) You too look ill.
STAVROGIN (with the same manner): I am. You see, I have hallucinations. I often see or feel near me a sort of creature who is mocking, wicked, rational, and who takes on different aspects. But it’s always the same creature. He drives me wild. I shall have to consult a doctor.
TIHON: Yes. Do so.
STAVROGIN: No, it’s useless. I know who it is. And you do too.
TIHON: You mean the Devil?
STAVROGIN: Yes. You believe in him, don’t you? A man of your calling is obliged to believe in him.
TIHON: Well, I’d say that in your case it is more probably an ailment.
STAVROGIN: You are skeptical, I see. Do you at least believe in God?
TIHON: I believe in God.
STAVROGIN: It is written: «If you believe and if you command the mountain to be removed, you shall be obeyed.» Can you move a mountain? TIHON: Perhaps. With the help of God. STAVROGIN: Why «perhaps»? If you believe, you must say yes.
TIHON: My faith is imperfect.
STAVROGIN: Well, it’s a pity. Do you know the answer that a certain bishop made? With the knife at his throat, a barbarian asked him if he believed in God. «Very little, very little,» the
bishop replied. That’s not worthy, is it? TIHON: His faith was imperfect.
STAVROGIN (smiling): Yes, yes. But, in my opinion, faith must be perfect or there is no faith. That’s why I’m an atheist.
TIHON: The complete atheist is more respectable than the man who is indifferent. He is on the last rung preceding perfect faith.
STAVROGIN: I know it. Do you remember the passage from the Apocalypse about the lukewarm? TIHON: Yes. «I know thy works, that thou art neither cold nor hot: I would thou wert cold or hot. So then because thou art lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I will spew thee out of my mouth. Because thou sayest . . .»
STAVROGIN: That will do. (A silence. Without looking at him) You know, I like you very much.
TIHON (in a whisper): I like you too. (Rather long silence. Stroking Stavrogin’s elbow ivith his finger) Don’t be annoyed.
STAVROGIN (giving a start): How did you know . . . (He resumes his normal tone of voice.) Indeed, yes, I was annoyed because I told you that I liked you.
TIHON (firmly): Don’t be annoyed, and tell me everything.
STAVROGIN: So you are sure that I came with an ulterior motive?
TIHON (lowering his eyes): I read it on your face when you came in.
(STAVROGIN is pale and his hands tremble. He takes several sheets of paper out of his pocket.) STAVROGIN: All right. I wrote a story about myself which I am going to publish. Whatever you may say to me about it won’t change my decision in any way. However, I should like you to be the first to know this story, and I’m going to tell it to you. (TIHON slowly nods his head.) Stop up your ears. Promise not to listen to me and I shall speak, (TIHON doesn’t answer.) From 1861 to 1863 I lived in Petersburg indulging in debaucheries that provided no pleasure. I was living with nihilist comrades who adored me because of my money. I was dreadfully bored. So much so that I might have hanged myself. [The reason that I didn’t hang myself then is that I was hoping for something, I didn’t know just what.] (TIHON says nothing.) I had three apartments. TIHON : Three?
STAVROGIN: Yes. One in which I had set up Maria Lebyatkin, who later became my legitimate wife.
And two others in which I used to receive my mistresses. One of them was rented to me by shopkeepers who occupied the rest of the apartment and worked elsewhere. Hence I was alone there, rather often, with their twelveyearold daughter named Matriocha. (He stops.)
TIHON : Do you want to go on or stop there? STAVROGIN: I’ll go on. She was a very gentle and calm child, pale blonde and freckled. One day I couldn’t find my pocket knife. I mentioned it to the mother, who accused her daughter and beat her, in my presence, until she bled. That evening I found the pocket knife in the folds of my blanket. I put it into my waistcoat pocket and, once outside, threw it away in the street so that no one would know about it. Three days later I went back to Matriocha’s house. (He stops.)
TIHON: Did you tell her parents?
STAVROGIN: NO. They weren’t there. Matriocha was alone.
TIHON: Ah!
STAVROGIN: Yes. Alone. She was sitting in a corner on a little bench. She had her back turned. For some time I watched her from my room. Suddenly she began to sing softly, very softly. My heart began beating violently. I got up and slowly approached Matriocha. [The windows were decorated with geraniums; the sun was hot.] I sat down silently beside her on the floor. She was frightened and suddenly stood up. I took her hand and kissed it; she laughed like a child; I made her sit down again, but she again got up with a frightened look. I kissed her hand again. I drew her onto my lap. She withdrew a bit and smiled again. I «was laughing too. Then she threw her arms around my neck and kissed me. . . .
(He stops, TIHON looks at him. STAVROGIN stares hack at him and then, showing a blank sheet) At this point in my story I left a blank.
TIHON: Are you going to tell me what followed? STAVROGIN (laughing awkwardly, his face distorted) . No, no. Later on. When you become worthy of it . . . (TIHON stares at him.) But nothing happened at all; what are you thinking? Nothing at ail . . . It would be better if you didn’t look at me. (In a whisper) And don’t try my
