"You're afraid of a million?" Ganya grinned.

"And you're not, of course?"

"How did it seem to you, Prince?" Ganya suddenly turned to him. "Is he a serious man or just a mischief maker? What's your personal opinion?"

Something peculiar took place in Ganya as he was asking this question. It was as if some new and peculiar idea lit up in his brain and glittered impatiently in his eyes. The general, who was genuinely and simple-heartedly worried, also glanced sidelong at the prince, but as if he did not expect much from his reply.

"I don't know, how shall I put it," replied the prince, "only it seemed to me there's a lot of passion in him, and even some sort of sick passion. And he seems to be quite sick himself. It's very possible he'll take to his bed again during his first days in Petersburg, especially if he goes on a spree."

"So? It seemed so to you?" the general latched on to this idea.

"Yes, it did."

"And, anyhow, that kind of anecdote needn't take several days. Something may turn up even today, this same evening," Ganya smiled to the general.

"Hm! . . . Of course ... So it may, and then it all depends on what flashes through her head," said the general.

"And you know how she can be sometimes?"

"How do you mean?" the general, who by now was extremely disturbed, heaved himself up. "Listen, Ganya, please don't contradict her too much tonight, and try, you know, to ... in short, to humor . . . Hm! . . . Why are you twisting your mouth like that? Listen, Gavrila Ardalionych, it would be opportune, even very opportune, to say now: what's all this fuss about? You see, concerning the profit that's in it for me, I've long been secure; one way or another I'll turn it to my benefit. Totsky's decision is firm, and so I, too, am completely assured. And therefore, if there's anything I wish for now, it's your benefit. Judge for yourself—or don't you trust me? Besides, you're a man ... a man ... in short, a man of intelligence, and I've been counting on you . . . and in the present case that is . . . that is . . ."

"That is the main thing," Ganya finished, again helping out the faltering general, and contorting his lips into a most venomous smile, which he no longer cared to hide. He fixed his inflamed gaze directly on the general's eyes, as if he even wished to read the whole of his thought in them. The general turned purple and flared up.

"Well, yes, intelligence is the main thing!" he agreed, looking sharply at Ganya. "And what a funny man you are, Gavrila Ardalionych! You seem to be glad, I notice, of that little merchant, as a way out for yourself. But here you precisely should have gone by intelligence from the very beginning; here precisely one must understand and . . . and act honestly and directly on both sides, or else . . . give a warning beforehand, so as not to compromise others, the more so as there's been plenty of time for that, and even now there's still plenty of time" (the general raised his eyebrows meaningfully), "though there are only a few hours left . . . Do you understand? Do you? Are you willing or are you not, in fact? If you're not, say so and—you're welcome. Nobody's holding you, Gavrila Ardalionych, nobody's dragging you into a trap by force, if you do see this as a trap."

"I'm willing," Ganya said in a low but firm voice, dropped his eyes, and fell gloomily silent.

The general was satisfied. The general had lost his temper, but now apparently regretted having gone so far. He suddenly turned to the prince, and the uneasy thought that the prince was right there and had heard them seemed to pass over his face. But he instantly felt reassured: one glance at the prince was enough for him to be fully reassured.

"Oho!" cried the general, looking at the calligraphy sample the prince presented. "That's a model hand! And a rare one, too! Look here, Ganya, what talent!"

On the thick sheet of vellum the prince had written a phrase in medieval Russian script:

"The humble hegumen Pafnuty here sets his hand to it."

"This," the prince explained with great pleasure and animation, "this is the actual signature of the hegumen Pafnuty, copied from a fourteenth-century manuscript. They had superb signatures, all those old Russian hegumens and metropolitans, and sometimes so tasteful, so careful! Can it be you don't have Pogodin's book,¹⁶ General? Then here I've written in a different script: it's the big, round French script of the last century; some letters are even written

differently; it's a marketplace script, a public scrivener's script, borrowed from their samples (I had one)—you must agree, it's not without virtue. Look at these round d's and a's. I've transposed the French characters into Russian letters, which is very difficult, but it came out well. Here's another beautiful and original script, this phrase here: 'Zeal overcometh all.'¹⁷ This is a Russian script—a scrivener's, or military scrivener's, if you wish. It's an example of an official address to an important person, also a rounded script, nice and black, the writing is black, but remarkably tasteful. A calligrapher wouldn't have permitted these flourishes, or, better to say, these attempts at flourishes, these unfinished half-tails here—you notice—but on the whole, you see, it adds up to character, and, really, the whole military scrivener's soul is peeking out of it: he'd like to break loose, his talent yearns for it, but his military collar is tightly hooked, and discipline shows in the writing—lovely! I was recently struck by a sample of it I found—and where? in Switzerland! Now, here is a simple, ordinary English script of the purest sort: elegance can go no further, everything here is lovely, a jewel, a pearl; this is perfection; but here is a variation, again a French one, I borrowed it from a French traveling salesman: this is the same English script, but the black line is slightly blacker and thicker than in the English, and see—the proportion of light is violated; and notice also that the ovals are altered, they're slightly rounder, and what's more, flourishes are permitted, and a flourish is a most dangerous thing! A flourish calls for extraordinary taste; but if it succeeds, if the right proportion is found, a script like this is incomparable, you can even fall in love with it."

"Oho! What subtleties you go into!" the general laughed. "You're not simply a calligrapher, my dear fellow, you're an artist—eh, Ganya?"

"Astonishing," said Ganya, "and even with a consciousness of his purpose," he added with a mocking laugh.

"You may laugh, you may laugh, but there's a career here," said the general. "Do you know, Prince, which person we'll have you write documents to? I could offer you thirty-five roubles a month straight off, from the first step. However, it's already half-past twelve," he concluded, glancing at the clock. "To business, Prince, because I must hurry and we probably won't meet again today! Sit down for a moment. I've already explained to you that I cannot receive you very often; but I sincerely wish to help you a bit, only a bit, naturally, that is, with regard to the most necessary, and for

the rest it will be as you please. I'll find you a little post in the chancellery, not a difficult one, but requiring accuracy. Now, as concerns other things, sir: in the home, that is, in the family of Gavrila Ardalionych Ivolgin, this young friend of mine here, whose acquaintance I beg you to make, there are two or three furnished rooms which his mother and sister have vacated and rent out to highly recommended lodgers, with board and maid services. I'm sure Nina Alexandrovna will accept my recommendation. And for you, Prince, this is even more than a find, first, because you won't be alone, but, so to speak, in the bosom of a family, and, as far as I can see, it's impossible for you to take your first steps on your own in a capital like Petersburg. Nina Alexandrovna, Gavrila Ardalionych's mother, and Varvara Ardalionovna, his sister, are ladies whom I respect exceedingly. Nina Alexandrovna is the wife of Ardalion Alexandrovich, a retired general, my former comrade from when I entered the service, but with whom, owing to certain circumstances, I have ceased all contact, though that does not prevent my having a sort of respect for him. I'm explaining all this to you, Prince, so that you will understand that I am, so to speak, recommending you personally, consequently it's as if I'm vouching for you. The rent is the most moderate, and soon enough, I hope, your salary will be quite sufficient for that. True, a man also needs pocket money, at least a small amount, but you won't be angry, Prince, if I point out to you that it would be better for you to avoid pocket money and generally carrying money in your pocket. I say it just from looking at you. But since your purse is quite empty now, allow me to offer you these twenty-five roubles to begin with. We'll settle accounts, of course, and if you're as candid and genuine a man as your words make you seem, there can be no difficulties between us. And if I take such an interest in you, it's because I even have some intention concerning you; you'll learn what it is later. You see, I'm being quite plain with you. Ganya, I hope you have nothing against putting the prince up in your apartment?"