“Why, who told you?”
“Alyosha, of course, and he had tears in his eyes himself when he told me. That was very nice of him, and I liked him for it. I think he likes you better than you like him, Ivan Petrovitch. It’s in things like that I like him. And another reason why I am so open with you is that you’re a very clever man, and you can give me advice and teach me about a great many things.”
“How do you know that I’m clever enough to teach you?” “Oh, well, you needn’t ask!”
She grew thoughtful.
“I didn’t mean to talk about that really. Let’s talk of what matters most. Tell me, Ivan Petrovitch; here I feel now that I’m Natasha’s rival, I know I am, how am I to act? That’s why I asked you: would they be happy. I think about it day and night. Natasha’s position is awful, awful! He has quite left off loving her, you know, and he loves me more and more. That is so, isn’t it?”
“It seems so.”
“Yet he is not deceiving her. He doesn’t know that he is ceasing to love her, but no doubt she knows it. How miserable she must be!”
“What do you want to do, Katerina Fyodorovna?
“I have a great many plans,” she answered seriously, “and meanwhile I’m all in a muddle. That’s why I’ve been so impatient to see you, for you to make it all clear to me. You know all that so much better than I do. You’re a sort of divinity to me now, you know. Listen, this is what I thought at first: if they love one another they must be happy, and so I ought to sacrifice myself and help them — oughtn’t I?”
“I know you did sacrifice yourself.”
“Yes, I did. But afterwards when he began coming to me and caring more and more for me, I began hesitating, and I’m still hesitating whether I ought to sacrifice myself or not. That’s very wrong, isn’t it?”
“That’s natural,” I answered, “that’s bound to be so and it’s not your fault.”
“I think it is. You say that because you are very kind. I think it is because my heart is not quite pure. If I had a pure heart I should know how to behave. But let us leave that. Afterwards I heard more about their attitude to one another, from the prince, from maman, from Alyosha himself, and guessed they were not suited, and now you’ve confirmed it. I hesitated more than ever, and now I’m uncertain what to do. If they’re going to be unhappy, you know, why, they had better part. And so I made up my mind to ask you more fully about it, and to go myself to Natasha, and to settle it all with her.”
“But settle it how? That’s the question.”
“I shall say to her, ‘You love him more than anything, don’t you, and so you must care more for his happiness than your own, and therefore you must part from him.’”
“Yes, but how will she receive that? And even if she agrees with you will she be strong enough to act on it?”
“That’s what I think about day and night, and . . . and . . . ” And she suddenly burst into tears.
“You don’t know how sorry I am for Natasha,” she whispered, her lips quivering with tears.
There was nothing more to be said. I was silent, and I too felt inclined to cry as I watched her, for no particular reason, from a vague feeling like tenderness. what a charming child she was! I no longer felt it necessary to ask her why she thought she could make Alyosha happy.
“Are you fond of music?” she asked, growing a little calmer, though she was still subdued by her recent tears.
“Yes,” I answered, with some surprise.
“If there were time I’d play you Beethoven’s third concerto. That’s what I’m playing now. All those feelings are in it . . . just as I feel them now. So it seems to me. But that must be another time, now we must talk.”
We began discussing how she could meet Natasha, and how it was all to be arranged. She told me that they kept a watch on her, and though her stepmother was kind and fond of her, she would never allow her to make friends with Natalya Nikolaevna, and so she had decided to have recourse to deception. She sometimes went a drive in the morning, but almost always with the countess. Sometimes the countess didn’t go with her but sent her out alone with a French lady, who was ill just now. Sometimes the countess had headaches, and so she would have to wait until she had one. And meanwhile she would over-persuade her Frenchwoman (an old lady who was some sort of companion), for the latter was very good-natured. The upshot of it was that it was impossible to fix beforehand what day she would be able to visit Natasha.
“You won’t regret making Natasha’s acquaintance,” I said. “She is very anxious to know you too, and she must, if only to know to whom she is giving up Alyosha. Don’t worry too much about it all. Time will settle it all, without your troubling You are going into the country, aren’t you?”
“Quite soon. In another month perhaps,” she answered “And I know the prince is insisting on it.”
“What do you think — will Alyosha go with you?
“I’ve thought about that,” she said, looking intently at me “He will go, won’t he?” “Yes, he will.”
“Good heavens, how it will all end I don’t know. I tell you what, Ivan Petrovitch, I’ll write to you about everything, I’ll write to you often, fully. Now I’m going to worry you,
too. Will you often come and see us?”
“I don’t know, Katerina Fyodorovna. That depends upon circumstances. Perhaps I may not come at all.”
“Why not?”
“It will depend on several considerations, and chiefly what terms I am on with the prince.”
“He’s a dishonest man,” said Katya with decision. “I tell you what, Ivan Petrovitch, how if I should come to see you? Will that be a good thing, or not?”
“What do you think yourself?”
“I think it would be a good thing. In that way I could bring you news,” she added with a smile. “And I say this because I like you very much as well as respect you. And could learn a great deal from you. And I like you. . . . And it’s not disgraceful my speaking of it, is it?”
“Why should it be? You’re as dear to me already as on of my own family.” “Then you want to be my friend?
“Oh yes, yes!” I answered.
“And they would certainly say it was disgraceful and that a young girl ought not to behave like this,” she observed, again indicating the group in conversation at the tea-table.
I may mention here that the prince seemed purposely to leave us alone that we might talk to our heart’s content.
“I know very well,” she added, “that the prince wants my money. They think I’m a perfect baby, and in fact they tell me so openly. But I don’t think so. I’m not a child now. They’re strange people: they’re like children themselves What are they in such a fuss about?”
“Katerina Fyodorovna, I forgot to ask you, who are these Levinka and Borinka whom Alyosha goes to see so often?”
“They’re distant relations. They’re very clever and very honest, but they do a dreadful lot of talking. . . . I know them . . .”
And she smiled.
“Is it true that you mean to give them a million later on?
“Oh, well, you see, what if I do? They chatter so much about that million that it’s
growing quite unbearable. Of course I shall be delighted to contribute to everything useful; what’s the good of such an immense fortune? But what though I am going to give it some day, they’re already dividing it, discussing it, shouting, disputing what’s the best use to make of it, they even quarrel about it, so that it’s quite queer. They’re in too great a hurry. But they’re honest all the same and clever. They are studying. That’s better than going on as other people do. Isn’t it?”
And we talked a great deal more. She told me almost her whole life, and listened eagerly to what I told her. She kept insisting that I should tell her more about Natasha and Alyosha. It was twelve o’clock when Prince Valkovsky came and let me know it was time to take leave. I said good-bye. Katya pressed my hand warmly and looked at me expressively. The countess asked me to come again; the prince and I went out.
I cannot refrain from one strange and perhaps quite inappropriate remark. From my three hours’ conversation with Katya I carried away among other impressions the strange but positive conviction that she was still such a child that she had no idea of the inner significance of the relations of the sexes. This gave an extraordinarily comic flavour to some of her reflections, and in general to the serious tone in which she talked of many very important matters.
CHAPTER X
“I TELL you what,” said Prince Valkovsky, as he seated himself beside me in the carriage, “what if we were to go to supper now, hein? What do you say to that?”
“I don’t know, prince,” I answered, hesitating, “I never eat supper.”
“Well, of course, we’ll have a talk, too, over supper,” he added, looking intently and slyly into my face.
There was no misunderstanding! “He means to speak
