Needless to say, I was as if in a daze; I was explaining my feelings, and above all—we were waiting for Katerina Nikolaevna, and the thought that in an hour I would finally meet with her, and at such a decisive moment of my life, made me tremble and quake. Finally, when I had drunk two cups, Tatyana Pavlovna suddenly got up, took a pair of scissors from the table, and said:
“Give me your pocket, we must take out the letter—we can’t cut it with her here!”
“Right!” I exclaimed, and unbuttoned my frock coat.
“What’s all this tangle here? Who did the sewing?”
“I did, I did, Tatyana Pavlovna.”
“That’s obvious. Well, here it is . . .”
The letter was taken out; it was the same old envelope, but with a blank piece of paper stuck into it.
“What’s this? . . .” Tatyana Pavlovna exclaimed, turning it over. “What’s got into you?”
But I stood there speechless, pale . . . and suddenly sank strengthlessly onto the chair; truly, I almost fainted away.
“What on earth is this?” Tatyana Pavlovna yelled. “Where is your note?”
“Lambert!” I jumped up suddenly, realizing and slapping myself on the forehead.
Hurrying and breathless, I explained everything to her—the night at Lambert’s, and our conspiracy at the time; however, I had already confessed this conspiracy to her the day before.
“They stole it! They stole it!” I cried, stamping the floor and seizing myself by the hair.
“Trouble!” Tatyana Pavlovna suddenly decided, grasping what it meant. “What time is it?”
It was about eleven.
“Eh, Marya’s not here! . . . Marya, Marya!”
“What is it, ma’am?” Marya suddenly responded from the kitchen.
“You’re here? So what are we to do now? I’ll fly to her . . . Ah, you dodderer, you dodderer!”
“And I’ll go to Lambert!” I yelled. “And I’ll strangle him, if need be!”
“Ma’am!” Marya suddenly squeaked from the kitchen. “There’s some woman here asking for you very much . . .”
But before she finished speaking, the “some woman” herself burst precipitously from the kitchen with cries and screams. It was Alphonsinka. I won’t describe the scene in full detail; the scene was a trick and a fake, but it should be noted that Alphonsinka played it splendidly. With tears of repentance and with violent gestures, she rattled out (in French, naturally) that she herself had cut out the letter then, that it was now with Lambert, and that Lambert, with “that brigand,” cet homme noir,116 wanted to lure madame la générale117 and shoot her, right now, in an hour . . . that she had learned it all from them and had suddenly become terribly frightened, because she saw they had a pistol, le pistolet, and had now rushed to us, so that we could go, save, prevent . . . Cet hommenoir . . .
In short, it was all extremely plausible; the very stupidity of some of Alphonsinka’s explanations even increased the plausibility.
“What homme noir?” cried Tatyana Pavlovna.
“ Tiens, j’ai oublié son nom . . . Un homme a freux . . . Tiens,Versilo f.”118
“Versilov! It can’t be!” I yelled.
“Oh, yes, it can!” shrieked Tatyana Pavlovna. “But speak, dearie, without jumping, without waving your arms. What is it they want? Talk sense, dearie. I refuse to believe they want to shoot her!”
The “dearie” talked the following sense (NB: it was all a lie, I warn you again): Versilo f would sit behind the door, and Lambert, as soon as she came in, would show her cette lettre, here Versilo f would jump out, and they . . . Oh, ils feront leur vengeance!119; That she, Alphonsinka, was afraid of trouble, because she had taken part herself, and cette dame, la générale, was sure to come “right now, right now,” because they had sent her a copy of the letter, and she would see at once that they really had the letter and go to them, and that it was Lambert alone who had written to her, and she knew nothing about Versilov; but Lambert had introduced himself as a visitor from Moscow, from a certain Moscow lady, une damede Moscou (NB: Marya Ivanovna!).
“Ah, I’m sick! I’m sick!” Tatyana Pavlovna kept exclaiming.
“Sauvez-la, sauvez-la!”120 cried Alphonsinka.
Of course, there was something incongruous in this crazy news, even at first glance, but there was no time to think it over, because essentially it was all terribly plausible. It might still be supposed, and with great probability, that Katerina Nikolaevna, having received Lambert’s invitation, would first come to us, to Tatyana Pavlovna, to explain the matter; but, on the other hand, that might well not happen, and she might go directly to them, and then—she was lost! It was also hard to believe that she would just rush to the unknown Lambert at the first summons; but again, it might happen for whatever reason, for instance, seeing the copy and being convinced that they indeed had her letter, and then—the same trouble! Above all, we didn’t have a drop of time left, even in order to consider.
“And Versilov will do her in! If he’s stooped to Lambert, he’ll do her in! It’s the double!” I cried.
“Ah, this ‘double’!” Tatyana Pavlovna wrung her hands. “Well, no help for it,” she suddenly made up her mind, “take your hat and coat and off we go. Take us straight to them, dearie. Ah, it’s so far! Marya, Marya, if Katerina Nikolaevna comes, tell her that I’ll be back presently and that she should sit and wait for me, and if she refuses to wait, lock the door and force her to stay. Tell her I said so! A hundred roubles for you, Marya, if you do me this service.”
We ran out to the stairs. No doubt it would have been impossible to think up anything better, because in all events the main trouble was at Lambert’s apartment, and if Katerina Nikolaevna indeed came to Tatyana Pavlovna first, Marya could always keep her there. And yet, having already hailed a cab, Tatyana Pavlovna suddenly changed her mind.
“You go with her!” she told me, leaving me with Alphonsinka,
“and die there if need be, understand? And I’ll follow you at once, but I’ll swing by her place beforehand, on the chance that I’ll find her, because, say what you will, but I find it suspicious!”
And she flew to Katerina Nikolaevna. Alphonsinka and I set off for Lambert’s. I kept urging the cabbie on, and as we flew, I went on questioning Alphonsinka, but Alphonsinka mostly got off with exclamations, and finally with tears. But God kept and preserved us all, when everything was hanging by a thread. Before we’d gone a quarter of the way, I suddenly heard a shout behind me: someone called my name. I turned to look—Trishatov was overtaking us in a cab.
“Where to?” he shouted in alarm. “And with her, with Alphonsinka!”
“Trishatov!” I cried to him. “What you said is true—bad trouble! I’m going to that scoundrel Lambert! Let’s go together, there’ll be more of us!”
“Turn back, turn back right now!” shouted Trishatov. “Lambert’s deceiving you, and so is Alphonsinka. The pockmarked one sent me. They’re not at home; I’ve just met Versilov and Lambert; they were driving to Tatyana Pavlovna’s . . . they’re there now . . .”
I stopped the cab and jumped over to Trishatov. To this day I don’t understand how I could have decided so suddenly, but I suddenly believed and suddenly decided. Alphonsinka screamed terribly, but we abandoned her, and I don’t know whether she turned to follow us or went home, but anyhow I never saw her again.
In the cab, Trishatov haphazardly and breathlessly told me that there was some machination, that Lambert had come to an agreement with the pockmarked one, but that the pockmarked one had betrayed him at the last minute, and had just sent Trishatov to Tatyana Pavlovna to inform her that she should not believe Lambert and Alphonsinka. Trishatov added that he knew nothing more, because the pockmarked one hadn’t told him any more, because he’d had no time, that he himself had hurried off somewhere, and that it had all been done hastily. “I saw you driving,” Trishatov went on, “and chased after you.” Of course, it was clear that this pockmarked one also knew everything, because he had sent Trishatov straight to Tatyana Pavlovna; but this was a new riddle.