“God forbid! “ Natasha exclaimed. “I’m quite convinced that what you say is true.” And she laughed again, right in Prince Valkovsky’s face, so that he almost winced. “Explain yourself!” he said in confusion.
“Why, there’s nothing to explain. I speak very simply. You know how heedless and forgetful he is. And now that he has been given complete liberty he is carried away.”
“But to be carried away like that is impossible. There something behind it, and as soon as he comes in I’ll make him explain what it is. But what surprises me most of all is that you seem to think me somehow to blame, when I’ve not even been here. But I see, Natalya Nikolaevna, that you are very angry with him-and I can quite understand. You’ve every right to be so, and of course I’m the first person to blame if only that I’m the first to turn up. That’s how it is, isn’t it?” went on, turning to me, with angry derision.
Natasha flushed red.
“Certainly, Natalya Nikolaevna,” he continued with dignity
“I’ll admit I am to blame, but only for going away the day after I made your acquaintance; so with the suspiciousness of character I observe in you, you have already changed your opinion of me circumstances, of course, have given some grounds for this. Had I not gone away, you would have known me better, and Alyosha would not have been so heedless with me to look after him. You shall hear yourself what I say to him this evening.”
“That is, you’ll manage to make him begin to feel me a burden. Surely, with your cleverness, you can’t imagine that that would be any help to me.”
“Do you mean to hint that I would intentionally try to make him feel you a burden? You insult me, Natalya Nikolaevna.”
“I try to speak without hints when I can, whoever the person may be I am speaking to,” answered Natasha. “I always try, on the contrary, to be as open as I can, and you will perhaps be convinced of that this evening. I don’t wish to insult you and there’s no reason I should; if only because you won’t be insulted by my words, whatever I may say. Of that I am quite certain, for I quite realize the relation in which we stand to one another. You can’t take it seriously, can you? But if I really have been rude to you, I am ready to ask your pardon that I may not be lacking in any of the obligations of . . . hospitality.”
In spite of the light and even jesting tone with which she uttered these words, and the smile on her lips, I had never seen Natasha so intensely irritated. It was only now that I realized what her heartache must have been during those three days. Her enigmatic saying that she knew everything now and that she guessed it all frightened me; it referred directly to Prince Valkovsky. She had changed her opinion of him and looked upon him as her enemy; that was evident. She apparently attributed her discomfiture with Alyosha to his influence and had perhaps some grounds for this belief. I was afraid there might be a scene between them at any moment. Her mocking tone was too manifest, too undisguised. Her last words to the prince that he could not take their relations seriously, the phrase about the obligations of hospitality, her promise, that looked like a threat, to show him that she knew how to be open — all this was so biting, so unmistakable, that it was impossible that the prince should not understand it. I saw his face change, but he was well able to control himself. He at once pretended not to have noticed these words, not to have seen their significance, and took refuge course in raillery.
“God forbid I should ask for apologies!” he cried, laughing. That’s not at all what I wanted, and indeed it’s against my rules to ask apologies from a woman. At our first interview I warned you what I was like, so you’re not likely to be angry with me for one observation, especially as it applies to all women. You probably agree with this remark,” he went on, politely turning to me. “I have noticed as a trait in the female character that if woman is in fault in any way, she will sooner smooth over her offence with a thousand caresses later on than admit her fault and ask forgiveness at the moment when she is confronted with it. And so, supposing even that I have been insulted by you, I am not anxious for an apology. It will be all the better for me later on when you own your mistake and want to make it up to me . . . with a thousand caresses. And you are so sweet, so pure, so fresh, so open, that the moment of your penitence will, I foresee, be enchanting. You had better, instead of apologizing, tell me now whether I cannot do something this evening to show you that I am behaving much more sincerely and straight-forwardly than you suppose.”
Natasha flushed. I, too, fancied that there was somewhat too flippant, even too casual, a tone in Prince Valkovsky’s answer, a rather unseemly jocosity.
“You want to prove that you are simple and straightforward with me?” asked Natasha, looking at him with a challenging air.
“Yes.”
“If so, do what I ask.”
“I promise beforehand.”
“And that is, not by one word, one hint, to worry Alyosha about me, either today or tomorrow. No reproof for having forgotten me; no remonstrance. I want to meet him as though nothing had happened, so that he may notice nothing. That’s what I want. Will you make me such a promise?”
“With the greatest pleasure,” answered Prince Valkovsky and allow me to add with all my heart that I have rarely met more sensible and clear-sighted attitude in such
circumstances . . . But I believe this is Alyosha.”
A sound was in fact heard in the passage. Natasha started and seemed to prepare herself for something, Prince Valkovsky sat with a serious face waiting to see what would happen. He watching Natasha intently. But the door opened and Alyosha flew in.
CHAPTER II
HE literally flew in with a beaming face, gay and joyous. It was evident that he had spent those four days gaily and happily. One could see from his face that he had something he was longing to tell us.
“Here I am!” he cried out, addressing us all, “I, who ought to have been here before anyone. But I’ll tell you everything directly, everything, everything! I hadn’t time to say two words to you this morning, daddy, and I had so much to say to you. It’s only in his sweet moments he lets me speak to him like that,” he interrupted himself, addressing me. “I assure you at other times he forbids it! And I’ll tell you what he does. He begins to use my full name. But from this day I want him always to have good minutes, and I shall manage it! I’ve become quite a different person in these last four days, utterly, utterly different, and I’ll tell you all about it. But that will be presently. The great thing now is that she’s here. Her she is! Again! Natasha, darling, how are you, my angel!” he said, sitting down beside her and greedily kissing her hand. How I’ve been missing you all this time! But there it is! I couldn’t help it! I wasn’t able to manage it, my darling! You look a little thinner, you’ve grown so pale . . .”
He rapturously covered her hands with kisses, and looked eagerly at her with his beautiful eyes, as though he could never look enough. I glanced at Natasha, and from her face I guessed that our thoughts were the same: he was absolutely innocent. And indeed when and how could this innocent be to blame? A bright flush suddenly overspread Natasha’s pale cheeks, as though all the blood had suddenly rushed from her heart to her head. Her eyes flashed and she looked proudly at Prince Valkovsky.
“But where . . . have you been so many days?” she said in a suppressed and breaking voice. She was breathing in hard uneven gasps. My God, how she loved him!”
“To be sure I must have seemed to blame, and it’s not only seeming, indeed! Of course I’ve been to blame, and I know it myself, and I’ve come knowing it. Katya told me yesterday today that no woman could forgive such negligence (she knows all that happened here on Tuesday; I told her next day): I argued with her, I maintained that there is such a woman and her name is Natasha, and that perhaps there was only one other woman equal to her in the world and that was Katya; and I came here of course knowing I’d won the day. Could an angel like you refuse to forgive? ‘He’s not come, so something must have kept him. It’s not that he doesn’t love me!’ — that’s what my Natasha will think! As though one could leave off loving you! As though it were possible! My whole heart has been aching for you. I’m to blame all the same. But when you know all
