“But what? What did you tell him exactly?” Natasha asked anxiously.
“Why, that I don’t want any other fiancee, and that I have one already — you. That is, I didn’t tell him that straight out, but I prepared him for it, and I shall tell him tomorrow.
I’ve made up my mind. To begin with I said that to marry for money was shameful and ignoble, and that for us to consider ourselves aristocrats was simply stupid (I talk perfectly openly to him as though he were my brother). Then I explained to him that I belonged to the tiers etat, and that the tiers etat c’est l’essentiel, that I am proud of being just like everybody else, and that I don’t want to be distinguished in any way; in fact, I laid all those sound ideas before him. . . . I talked warmly, convincingly. I was surprised at myself. I proved it to him, even from his own point of view. . . . I said to him straight out — how can we call ourselves princes? It’s simply a matter of birth; for what is there princely about us? We’re not particularly wealthy, and wealth’s the chief point. The greatest prince nowadays is Rothschild. And secondly, it’s a long time since anything has been heard of us in real society. The last was Uncle Semyon Valkovsky, and he was only known in Moscow, and he was only famous for squandering his last three hundred serfs, and if father hadn’t made money for himself, his grandsons might have been ploughing the land themselves. There are princes like that. We’ve nothing to be stuck-up over. In short, I told him everything that I was brimming over with — everything, warmly and openly; in fact, I said something more. He did not even answer me, but simply began blaming me for having given up going to Count Nainsky’s, and then told me I must try and keep in the good graces of Princess K., my godmother, and that if Princess K. welcomes me then I shall be received everywhere, and my career is assured, and he went on and on about that! It was all hinting at my having given up everyone since I’ve been with you, Natasha, and that’s being all your influence. But he hasn’t spoken about you directly so far. In fact he evidently avoids it. We’re both fencing, waiting, catching one another, and you may be sure that our side will come off best.”
“Well, that’s all right. But how did it end, what has he decided? That’s what matters. And what a chatterbox you are, Alyosha!”
“Goodness only knows. There’s no telling what he’s decided. But I’m not a chatterbox at all; I’m talking sense. He didn’t settle anything, but only smiled at all my arguments; and such a smile, as though he were sorry for me. I know it’s humiliating, but I’m not ashamed of it. ‘I quite agree with you,’ he said, ‘but let’s go to Count Nainsky’s, and mind you don’t say anything there. I understand you, but they won’t.’ I believe he’s not very well received everywhere himself; people are angry with him about something. He seems to be disliked in society now. The count at first received me very majestically, quite superciliously, as though he had quite forgotten I grew up in his house; he began trying to remember, he did, really. He’s simply angry with me for ingratitude, though really there was no sort of ingratitude on my part. It was horribly dull in his house, so I simply gave up going. He gave my father a very casual reception, too; so casual that I can’t understand why he goes there. It all revolted me. Poor father almost has to eat humble pie before him. I understand that it’s all for my sake, but I don’t want anything. I wanted to tell my father what I felt about it, afterwards, but I restrained myself. And, indeed, what would be the good? I shan’t change his convictions, I shall only make him angry, and he is having a bad time as it is. Well, I thought, I’ll take to cunning and I’ll outdo them all — I’ll make the count respect me — and what do you think? I at once gained my object, everything was changed in a single day, Count Nainsky can’t make enough of me now, and that was all my doing, only mine, it was all through my cunning, so that my father was quite astonished!”
“Listen, Alyosha, you’d better keep to the point!” Natasha cried impatiently. “I thought you would tell me something about us, and you only want to tell us how you distinguished yourself at Count Nainsky’s. Your count is no concern of mine!”
“No concern! Do you hear, Ivan Petrovitch, she says it’s no concern of hers! Why, it’s the greatest concern! You’ll see it is yourself, it will all be explained in the end. Only let me tell you about it. And in fact (why not be open about it?) I’ll. tell you what, Natasha, and you, too, Ivan Petrovitch, perhaps I really am sometimes very, very injudicious, granted even I’m sometimes stupid (for I know it is so at times). But in this case, I assure you, I showed a great deal of cunning . . . in fact . . . of cleverness, so that I thought you’d be quite pleased that I’m not always so . . . stupid.”
“What are you saying, Alyosha? Nonsense, dear!”
Natasha couldn’t bear Alyosha to be considered stupid. How often she pouted at me, though she said nothing when I proved to Alyosha without ceremony that he had done something stupid it was a sore spot in her heart. She could not bear to see Alyosha humiliated, and probably felt it the more, the more she recognized his limitations. But she didn’t give him a hint of her opinion for fear of wounding his vanity. He was particularly sensitive on this point, and always knew exactly what she was secretly thinking. Natasha saw this and was very sorry, and she at once tried to flatter and soothe him. That is why his words now raised painful echoes in her heart.
“Nonsense, Alyosha, you’re only thoughtless. You’re not at all like that,” she added. “Why do you run yourself down?”
“Well, that’s all right. So let me prove it to you. Father was quite angry with me after the reception at the count’s. I thought, ‘wait a bit.’ We were driving then to the princess’s.
I heard long ago that she was so old that she was almost doting, and deaf besides, and awfully fond of little dogs. She has a perfect pack of them, and adores them. In spite of all that, she has an immense influence in society, so that even Count Nainsky, le superbe, does l’antichambre to her. So I hatched a complete plan of future action on the way. And what do you think I built it all on? Why, on the fact that dogs always like me. Yes, really; I have noticed it. Either there’s some magnetism in me, or else it’s because I’m fond of all animals, I don’t know. Dogs do like me, anyway. And, by the way, talking of magnetism, I haven’t told you, Natasha, we called up spirits the other day; I was at a spiritualist’s. It’s awfully curious, Ivan Petrovitch; it really, impressed me. I called up Julius Caesar.”
“My goodness! What did you want with Julius Caesar?” cried Natasha, going off into a peal of laughter. “That’s the last straw!”
“Why not . . . as though I were such a . . . why shouldn’t I call up Julius Caesar? What does it matter to him? Now she’s laughing!”
“Of course it wouldn’t matter to him at all . . . oh, you dear! Well, what did Julius Caesar say to you?”
“Oh, he didn’t say anything. I simply held the pencil and the pencil moved over the paper and wrote of itself. They said it was Julius Caesar writing. I don’t believe in it.”
“But what did he write, then?”
“Why, he wrote something like the ‘dip it in’ in Gogol. Do leave oft laughing!” “Oh, tell me about the princess, then.”
“Well, you keep interrupting me. We arrived at the princess’s and I began by making love to Mimi. Mimi is a most disgusting, horrid old dog, obstinate, too, and fond of biting. The princess dotes on her, she simply worships her, I believe they are the same age. I began by feeding Mimi with sweetmeats, and in about ten minutes I had taught her to shake hands, which they had never been able to teach her before. The princess was in a perfect ecstasy, she almost cried with joy.
“‘Mimi! Mimi! Mimi is shaking hands’ “Someone came in.
“‘Mimi shakes
