“I’ve thought about that,” I confirmed again.
“They beat you, and you feel sorry . . .”
“Lambert, you’re a villain, curse you!” I cried out, suddenly somehow understanding and trembling. “I saw it all in a dream, you stood there, and Anna Andreevna . . . Oh, curse you! Did you really think I was such a scoundrel? I saw it in a dream, because I just knew you were going to say it. And, finally, all this can’t be so simple that you’d tell me about it all so simply and directly!”
“Look how angry he is! Tut-tut-tut!” Lambert drawled, laughing and triumphant. “Well, brother Arkashka, now I’ve learned all I needed to know. That’s why I was waiting for you. Listen, it means you love her and want to take revenge on Bjoring—that’s what I needed to know. I suspected it all along, while I was waiting for you. Ceci posé, celà change la question. 91And so much the better, because she loves you herself. So get married, don’t delay, that’s the best. And you can’t possibly do otherwise, you’ve hit on the right thing. And then know, Arkady, that you have a friend—me, that is—whom you can saddle and ride on. This friend will help you and get you married; I’ll leave no stone unturned, Arkasha! And afterwards you can give your old friend thirty thousand for his labors, eh? But I will help you, don’t doubt that. I know all the fine points in these matters, and they’ll give you a whole dowry, and you’ll be a rich man with a career!”
Though my head was spinning, I looked at Lambert in amazement. He was serious, that is, not really serious, but I could see clearly that he fully believed in the possibility of getting me married, and even accepted the idea with rapture. Naturally, I also saw that he was trying to ensnare me like a little boy (I saw it right then for certain), but the thought of marrying her so pierced me through that, though I was astonished at Lambert’s ability to believe in such a fantasy, at the same time I rushed to believe it myself, though without losing even for a moment the awareness that, of course, it couldn’t be realized for anything. It somehow all sank in together.
“Can it be possible?” I babbled.
“Why not? You’ll show her the document—she’ll turn coward and marry you so as not to lose the money.”
I decided not to stop Lambert in his meanness, because he laid it out for me so simpleheartedly that he didn’t even suspect I might suddenly become indignant; but I murmured, nevertheless, that I wouldn’t want to marry only by force.
“Not for anything do I want to use force; how can you be so mean as to suppose that in me?”
“Ehh! She’ll marry you of herself: it won’t be your doing, she’ll get frightened herself and marry you. And she’ll also do it because she loves you,” Lambert caught himself.
“That’s a lie. You’re laughing at me. How do you know she loves me?”
“Absolutely. I know. And Anna Andreevna thinks so, too. I’m telling you seriously and truthfully that Anna Andreevna thinks so. And then I’ll also tell you another thing, when you come to my place, and you’ll see that she loves you. Alphonsine was in Tsarskoe; she also found things out there . . .”
“What could she have found out there?”
“Let’s go to my place. She’ll tell you herself, and you’ll be pleased. What makes you worse than another man? You’re handsome, you’re well bred . . .”
“Yes, I’m well bred,” I whispered, barely pausing for breath. My heart was throbbing and, of course, not from wine alone.
“You’re handsome. You’re well dressed.”
“Yes, I’m well dressed . . .”
“And you’re kind . . .”
“Yes, I’m kind.”
“Then why shouldn’t she agree? After all, Bjoring won’t take her without money, and you can deprive her of money—so she’ll get frightened; you’ll marry her, and that will be your revenge on Bjoring. You told me yourself that night, after you froze, that she was in love with you.”
“Did I tell you that? Surely I didn’t put it that way.”
“No, that way.”
“I was delirious. Surely I must also have told you then about the document?”
“Yes, you said you had this letter, and I thought: since he has such a letter, why should he lose what’s his?”
“This is all fantasy, and I’m by no means so stupid as to believe it,” I muttered. “First, there’s the difference in age, and, second, I have no name.”
“She’ll marry you; she can’t do otherwise when so much money’s to be lost—I’ll arrange that. And besides, she loves you. You know, that old prince is quite well disposed towards you; through his patronage you know what sort of connections you could make; and as for the fact that you have no name, nowadays that’s all unnecessary: once you’ve grabbed the money, you’ll get on, you’ll get on, and in ten years you’ll be such a millionaire that all Russia will be talking, and what name do you need then? You can buy up a baron in Austria. But once you marry her, you’ll have to keep her in hand. They need it good and proper. A woman, if she’s in love, likes to be kept in a tight fist. A woman likes character in a man. But once you frighten her with the letter, from that time on you’ll also show her your character. ‘Ah,’ she’ll say, ‘so young, but he’s got character.’”
I was sitting there as if bemused. Never would I have stooped to such a stupid conversation with anyone else. But here some sweet longing drew me into continuing it. Besides, Lambert was so stupid and mean that it was impossible to be ashamed before him.
“No, Lambert, you know,” I said suddenly, “as you like, but there’s a lot of nonsense here; I’m talking to you because we’re comrades, and there’s nothing for us to be ashamed of; but with anyone else I wouldn’t have demeaned myself for anything. And, above all, why do you insist so much that she loves me? You spoke very well about capital just now, but you see, Lambert, you don’t know high society: with them it all rests on the most patriarchal, familial, so to speak, relations, so that now, when she still doesn’t know my abilities and how far I may get in life—now in any case she’ll be ashamed. But I won’t conceal from you, Lambert, that there is indeed one point here which may give hope. You see: she might marry me out of gratitude, because then I’d rid her of a certain man’s hatred. And she’s afraid of that man.”
“Ah, you mean your father? And what, does he love her very much?” Lambert suddenly roused himself with extraordinary curiosity.
“Oh, no!” I cried. “And how frightening you are, and at the same time how stupid, Lambert! I mean, if he was in love with her, how could I want to marry her? After all, a son and a father—that would be shameful. It’s mama he loves, mama, and I saw him embrace her, and before that I myself thought he loved Katerina Nikolaevna, but now I know clearly that he maybe loved her once, but for a long time now he’s hated her . . . and wanted revenge, and she’s afraid, because, I’ll tell you, Lambert, he’s terribly frightening once he starts on revenge. He almost turns into a madman. When he’s angry with her, he can go to any lengths. It’s an enmity of the old kind over lofty principles. In our time we spit on all general principles; in our time it’s not general principles, it’s only special cases. Ah, Lambert, you understand nothing, you’re as stupid as my big toe: I’m talking to you about these principles, but you surely understand none of it. You’re terribly uneducated. Do you remember beating me? I’m now stronger than you—do you know that?”
“Arkashka, let’s go to my place! We’ll spend the evening and drink another bottle, and Alphonsine will play the guitar and sing.”
“No, I won’t go. Listen, Lambert, I have an ‘idea.’ If things don’t work out and I don’t get married, then I’ll go into my idea; but you have no idea.”
“All right, all right, you’ll tell me, let’s go.”
“I’m not going!” I got up. “I don’t want to and I won’t. I’ll come to see you, but you’re a scoundrel. I’ll give you the thirty thousand—so be it, but I’m purer and higher than you . . . I can see that you want to deceive me in everything. And about her I even forbid you to think: she’s higher than everyone, and your plans are so base that I’m even surprised at you, Lambert. I want to get married—that’s another matter, but I don’t need capital, I despise capital. If she gives me her capital on her knees, I won’t take it . . . But getting married, getting married, that’s—another matter. And you know, you said it well about keeping her in a tight fist. To love, to love passionately, with all a man’s magnanimity, which can never be found in a woman, but also to be despotic—that’s a good thing. Because, Lambert, you know what—women love despotism. You know women, Lambert. But you’re astonishingly stupid in everything else. And, you know, Lambert, you’re not at all as vile as you seem, you’re—simple. I like you. Ah, Lambert, why are you such a knave? Otherwise we could live so merrily! You know, Trishatov’s a dear man.”