‘What on earth is one to make of a girl like that?’ said Varia.
Gania, little as he felt inclined for swagger at this mo-ment, could not avoid showing his triumph, especially just after such humiliating remarks as those of Hippolyte. A smile of selfsatisfaction beamed on his face, and Varia too was brimming over with delight.
‘And this is the very day that they were to announce the engagement! What will she do next?’
‘What do you suppose she wants to talk about tomorrow?’ asked Gania.
‘Oh, THAT’S all the same! The chief thing is that she wants to see you after six months’ absence. Look here, Ga-nia, this is a SERIOUS business. Don’t swagger again and lose the game—play carefully, but don’t funk, do you un-derstand? As if she could possibly avoid seeing what I have been working for all this last six months! And just imag-ine, I was there this morning and not a word of this! I was there, you know, on the sly. The old lady did not know, or she would have kicked me out. I ran some risk for you, you see. I did so want to find out, at all hazards.’
Here there was a frantic noise upstairs once more; sev-eral people seemed to be rushing downstairs at once.
‘Now, Gania,’ cried Varia, frightened, ‘we can’t let him go out! We can’t afford to have a breath of scandal about
the town at this moment. Run after him and beg his par-don—quick.’
But the father of the family was out in the road already. Colia was carrying his bag for him; Nina Alexandrovna stood and cried on the doorstep; she wanted to run after the general, but Ptitsin kept her back.
‘You will only excite him more,’ he said. ‘He has nowhere else to go to—he’ll be back here in half an hour. I’ve talked it all over with Colia; let him play the fool a bit, it will do him good.’
‘What are you up to? Where are you off to? You’ve no-where to go to, you know,’ cried Gania, out of the window.
‘Come back, father; the neighbours will hear!’ cried Var-ia.
The general stopped, turned round, raised his hands and remarked: ‘My curse be upon this house!’
‘Which observation should always be made in as theatri-cal a tone as possible,’ muttered Gania, shutting the window with a bang.
The neighbours undoubtedly did hear. Varia rushed out of the room.
No sooner had his sister left him alone, than Gania took the note out of his pocket, kissed it, and pirouetted around.
III
As a general rule, old General Ivolgin’s paroxysms ended in smoke. He had before this experienced fits of sud-
den fury, but not very often, because he was really a man of peaceful and kindly disposition. He had tried hundreds of times to overcome the dissolute habits which he had con-tracted of late years. He would suddenly remember that he was ‘a father,’ would be reconciled with his wife, and shed genuine tears. His feeling for Nina Alexandrovna amounted almost to adoration; she had pardoned so much in silence, and loved him still in spite of the state of degradation into which he had fallen. But the general’s struggles with his own weakness never lasted very long. He was, in his way, an impetuous man, and a quiet life of repentance in the bosom of his family soon became insupportable to him. In the end he rebelled, and flew into rages which he regretted, perhaps, even as he gave way to them, but which were beyond his control. He picked quarrels with everyone, began to hold forth eloquently, exacted unlimited respect, and at last dis-appeared from the house, and sometimes did not return for a long time. He had given up interfering in the affairs of his family for two years now, and knew nothing about them but what he gathered from hearsay.
But on this occasion there was something more serious than usual. Everyone seemed to know something, but to be
afraid to talk about it.
The general had turned up in the bosom of his family two or three days before, but not, as usual, with the olive branch of peace in his hand, not in the garb of penitence—in which he was usually clad on such occasions—but, on the contrary, in an uncommonly bad temper. He had arrived in a quar-relsome mood, pitching into everyone he came across, and talking about all sorts and kinds of subjects in the most un-expected manner, so that it was impossible to discover what it was that was really putting him out. At moments he would be apparently quite bright and happy; but as a rule he would sit moody and thoughtful. He would abruptly commence to hold forth about the Epanchins, about Lebedeff, or the prince, and equally abruptly would stop short and refuse to speak another word, answering all further questions with a stupid smile, unconscious that he was smiling, or that he had been asked a question. The whole of the previous night he had spent tossing about and groaning, and poor Nina Alexandrovna had been busy making cold compresses and warm fomentations and so on, without being very clear how to apply them. He had fallen asleep after a while, but not for long, and had awaked in a state of violent hypochondria which had ended in his quarrel with Hippolyte, and the sol-emn cursing of Ptitsin’s establishment generally. It was also observed during those two or three days that he was in a state of morbid self-esteem, and was specially touchy on all points of honour. Colia insisted, in discussing the matter with his mother, that all this was but the outcome of absti-nence from drink, or perhaps of pining after Lebedeff, with
whom up to this time the general had been upon terms of the greatest friendship; but with whom, for some reason or other, he had quarrelled a few days since, parting from him in great wrath. There had also been a scene with the prince. Colia had asked an explanation of the latter, but had been forced to conclude that he was not told the whole truth.
If Hippolyte and Nina Alexandrovna had, as Gania sus-pected, had some special conversation about the general’s actions, it was strange that the malicious youth, whom Ga-nia had called a scandal-monger to his face, had not allowed himself a similar satisfaction with Colia.
The fact is that probably Hippolyte was not quite so black as Gania painted him; and it was hardly likely that he had informed Nina Alexandrovna of certain events, of which we know, for the mere pleasure of giving her pain. We must never forget that human motives are generally far more complicated than we are apt to suppose, and that we can very rarely accurately describe the motives of another. It is much better for the writer, as a rule, to content himself with the bare statement of events; and we shall take this line with regard to the catastrophe recorded above, and shall state the remaining events connected with the general’s trouble shortly, because we feel that we have already given to this secondary character in our story more attention than we originally intended.
The course of events had marched in the following or-der. When Lebedeff returned, in company with the general, after their expedition to town a few days since, for the pur-pose of investigation, he brought the prince no information
whatever. If the latter had not himself been occupied with other thoughts and impressions at the time, he must have observed that Lebedeff not only was very uncommunica-tive, but even appeared anxious to avoid him.
When the prince did give the matter a little attention, he recalled the fact that during these days he had always found Lebedeff to be in radiantly good spirits, when they hap-pened to meet; and further, that the general and Lebedeff were always together. The two friends did not seem ever to be parted for a moment.
Occasionally the prince heard loud talking and laughing upstairs, and once he detected the sound of a jolly soldier’s song going on above, and recognized the unmistakable bass of the general’s voice. But the sudden outbreak of song did not last; and for an hour afterwards the animated sound of apparently drunken conversation continued to be heard from above. At length there was the clearest evidence of a grand mutual embracing, and someone burst into tears. Shortly after this, however, there was a violent but short-lived quarrel, with loud talking on both sides.
All these days Colia had been in a state of great mental preoccupation. Muishkin was usually out all day, and only came home late at night. On his return he was invariably informed that Colia had been looking for him. However, when they did meet, Colia never had anything particular to tell him, excepting that he was highly dissatisfied with the general and his present condition of mind and behaviour.
‘They drag each other about the place,’ he said, and get drunk together at the pub close by here, and quarrel in the
street on the way home, and embrace one another after it, and don’t seem to part for a moment.’
When the prince pointed out that there was nothing new about that, for that they had always behaved in this manner together, Colia did not know what to say; in fact he could not explain what it was that specially worried him, just now, about his father.
On the morning following the bacchanalian songs and quarrels recorded above, as the prince stepped out of the house at about eleven o’clock, the general suddenly ap-peared before him, much agitated.
‘I have long sought the honour
