"This Lebedev is intriguing against you, Prince, by God! They want to put you into government custody, if you can imagine that, with everything, with your free will and your money, that is, with the two things that distinguish each of us from the quadrupeds! I've heard it, indeed I have! It's the real, whole truth!"

The prince remembered that he seemed to have heard something of the kind himself, but, naturally, he had paid no attention to it. This time, too, he only laughed and forgot it again at once, Lebedev actually was bustling about for a time; the man's calculations were always conceived as if by inspiration and, from excessive zeal, grew more complex, branched out, and moved away from their starting point in all directions; that was why he had succeeded so little in life. When afterwards, almost on the day of the wedding, he came to the prince with his repentance (he had an unfailing habit of always coming with his repentance to those he had intrigued against, especially if he had not succeeded), he announced to him that he was born a Talleyrand⁴⁸ and in some unknown way had remained a mere Lebedev. Then he laid out his whole game before

him, which interested the prince enormously. By his own admission, he began by seeking the protection of exalted persons, in whom he might find support in case of need, and went to General Ivan Fyodorovich. General Ivan Fyodorovich was perplexed, very much wished the "young man" well, but declared that "for all his desire to save him, it was improper for him to act here." Lizaveta Prokofyevna did not want either to see or to hear him; Evgeny Pavlovich and Prince Shch. only waved him away. But he, Lebedev, did not lose heart and consulted a clever lawyer, a venerable old man, his great friend and almost his benefactor; the man concluded that the business was perfectly possible as long as there were competent witnesses to his derangement and total insanity, and with that, above all, the patronage of exalted persons. Lebedev did not despond here either, and once even brought a doctor to see the prince, also a venerable old man, a summer person, with an Anna on his neck,⁴⁹ solely in order to reconnoiter the terrain, so to speak, to get acquainted with the prince and, not yet officially but, so to speak, in a friendly way, to inform him of his conclusions. The prince remembered the doctor calling on him; he remembered that the day before Lebedev had been nagging him about his being unwell, and when the prince resolutely rejected medicine, he suddenly showed up with the doctor, under the pretext that the two of them were just coming from Mr. Terentyev, who was very sick, and the doctor had something to tell the prince about the patient. The prince praised Lebedev and received the doctor with extreme cordiality. They at once got to talking about the sick Ippolit; the doctor asked for a more detailed account of the scene of the suicide, and the prince absolutely fascinated him with his story and his explanation of the event. They talked about the Petersburg climate, about the prince's own illness, about Switzerland, about Schneider. The doctor was so interested in the prince's stories and his account of Schneider's system of treatment that he stayed for two hours; he smoked the prince's excellent cigars all the while, and from Lebedev's side a most tasty liqueur appeared, brought by Vera, and the doctor, a married and family man, let himself go into particular compliments before Vera, which aroused profound indignation in her. They parted friends. Having left the prince, the doctor said to Lebedev that if all such people were taken into custody, who then would be the custodians? To the tragic account, on Lebedev's part, of the impending event, the doctor shook his head slyly and insidiously, and finally observed that, not to mention the fact that

"men marry all kinds of women," "this seductive individual, at least as far as he had heard, besides her immeasurable beauty, which in itself could attract a man of wealth, also possesses capital from Totsky and from Rogozhin, pearls and diamonds, shawls and furniture, and therefore the impending choice not only does not show any, so to speak, especially eye-striking stupidity on the dear prince's part, but even testifies to the cleverness of a subtle, worldly intelligence and calculation, and therefore contributes to the opposite conclusion, quite favorable to the prince .. ." This thought struck Lebedev as well; he stayed with that, and now, he added to the prince, "now you won't see anything from me but devotion and the shedding of blood; that's what I've come to say."

Ippolit, too, diverted the prince during those last days; he sent for him quite often. They lived nearby, in a small house; the little children, Ippolit's brother and sister, were glad of the dacha, because they could at least go to the garden to escape the sick boy; but the poor captain's widow remained entirely under his will and was wholly his victim; the prince had to separate and arbitrate between them every day, and the sick boy continued to call him his "nanny," at the same time not daring, as it were, not to despise him for his role as conciliator. He bore a big grudge against Kolya for hardly visiting him at all, staying first with his dying father and then with his widowed mother. He finally set up as the target of his mockery the impending marriage of the prince and Nastasya Filippovna, and ended by offending the prince and making him finally lose his temper: the prince stopped visiting him. Two days later the captain's widow came trudging in the morning and tearfully begged the prince please to come, otherwise that one would eat her alive. She added that he wanted to reveal a big secret. The prince went. Ippolit wanted to make peace, wept, and after his tears, naturally, became still more spiteful, only he was afraid to show his spite. He was very sick, and everything indicated that he would now die soon. There was no secret, except for certain extreme entreaties, breathless, so to speak, from excitement (perhaps affected), to "beware of Rogozhin." "He's a man who won't give up what's his; he's not like you and me, Prince; if he wants to, he won't flinch at . . ." etc., etc. The prince began to inquire in more detail, wanting to obtain some facts; but there were no facts, except for Ippolit's personal feelings and impressions. To his extreme satisfaction, Ippolit ended by finally frightening the prince terribly. At first the prince did not want to answer certain particular

questions of his and only smiled at his advice "to run away, even abroad; there are Russian priests everywhere, you can be married there." But, finally, Ippolit ended with the following thought: "I'm only afraid for Aglaya Ivanovna: Rogozhin knows how much you love her; love for love; you've taken Nastasya Filippovna from him, he'll kill Aglaya Ivanovna; though she's not yours now, all the same it will be hard for you, won't it?" He achieved his goal; the prince went away no longer himself.

These warnings about Rogozhin came on the eve of the wedding. That same evening the prince saw Nastasya Filippovna for the last time before their marriage; but Nastasya Filippovna was unable to calm him down, and recently, on the contrary, had even increased his confusion still more. Before, that is, several days earlier, at her meetings with him, she had made every effort to divert him, and was terribly afraid of his sad look: she had even tried to sing for him; most often she told him all the funny things she could remember. The prince almost always pretended to laugh very much, and sometimes did in fact laugh at the brilliant intelligence and bright feeling with which she sometimes told a story, when she got carried away, and she often got carried away. Seeing the prince laugh, seeing the impression she made on him, she was delighted and felt proud of herself. But now her sadness and pensiveness grew with almost every hour. His opinion of Nastasya Filippovna was settled, otherwise, naturally, everything in her would now have seemed mysterious and incomprehensible. But he sincerely believed that she could still rise. He had said quite correctly to Evgeny Pavlovich that he sincerely and fully loved her, and his love for her indeed consisted in being drawn, as it were, towards some pitiful and sick child whom it was difficult and even impossible to abandon to its own will. He did not explain his feelings for her to anyone and even did not like talking about it, if it was impossible to avoid talking; and when he and Nastasya Filippovna sat together, they never discussed "feelings," as if they had both promised not to. Anyone could take part in their ordinary, cheerful, and animated conversation. Darya Alexeevna said afterwards that she had simply admired and rejoiced looking at them all that while.