"But there's the calculation! You don't know everything, Prince . . . here . . . and, besides, she's convinced that I'm madly in love with her, I swear to you, and, you know, I strongly suspect that she also loves me, in her own way, that is, as the saying goes: 'The one I treat, I also beat.' She'll consider me a varlet all her life (that may be what she wants) and love me in her own way even so; she's preparing herself for that, it's her character. She's an extremely Russian woman, I tell you. Well, but I'm preparing my own surprise for her. That scene earlier with Varya happened accidentally, but it was to my profit: now she's seen and been convinced of my devotion and that I'll break all connections for her sake. Meaning we're no fools, rest assured. Incidentally, I hope you don't think I'm such a babbler? Indeed, my dear Prince, perhaps it's a bad thing that I'm confiding in you. I fell upon you precisely because you're the first noble person I've met—I mean, 'fell upon' with no pun intended. You're not angry because of what happened, eh? I'm speaking from the heart maybe for the first time in a whole two years. There are very few honest people here. Ptitsyn's the most honest. It seems you're laughing, or aren't you? Scoundrels love honest people—did you know that? And I'm . . . However, in what way am I a scoundrel? Tell me in all conscience. Why do they repeat after her that I'm a scoundrel? And, you know, I also repeat after them and her that I'm a scoundrel! That's the most scoundrelly thing of all!"
"I'll never consider you a scoundrel now," said the prince. "Earlier I took you altogether for a villain, and suddenly you overjoyed me so—it's a real lesson: not to judge without experience. Now I see that you not only cannot be considered a villain, but that you haven't even gone all that bad. To my mind, you're simply the most ordinary man that could be, only very weak and not the least bit original."
Ganya smiled sarcastically to himself but said nothing. The prince saw that his opinion was not liked, became embarrassed, and also fell silent.
"Did father ask you for money?" Ganya asked suddenly.
"No."
"He will. Don't give him any. And he even used to be a decent man, I remember. He was received by good people. How quickly they all come to an end, all these decent old people! Circumstances need only change, and there's nothing left of the former, it's gone up like a flash of powder. He didn't lie like that before, I assure you; he was just a much too rapturous man before, and—this is what it's come to! Drink's to blame, of course. Do you know that he keeps a mistress? He hasn't stayed simply an innocent little liar. I can't understand my mother's long-suffering. Did he tell you about the siege of Kars? Or how his gray outrunner began to talk? He even goes that far."
And Ganya suddenly rocked with laughter.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked the prince.
"It surprises me that you laugh so genuinely. You really have a childlike laugh. When you came in to make peace with me and said: 'If you want, I'll kiss your hand,' it was like children making peace. Which means you're still capable of such words and gestures. Then suddenly you start reading a whole lecture about all this darkness and the seventy-five thousand. Really, it's all somehow absurd and cannot be."
"What do you want to conclude from that?"
"Mightn't it be that you're acting too light-mindedly, that you ought to look around first? Varvara Ardalionovna may have spoken rightly."
"Ah, morality! That I'm still a little boy, I know myself," Ganya interrupted him hotly, "if only in that I've started such a conversation with you. I'm not going into this darkness out of calculation, Prince," he went on, giving himself away like a young man whose vanity has been wounded. "Out of calculation I'd surely make a mistake, because my head and character aren't strong yet. I'm going out of passion, out of inclination, because I have a major goal. You must think I'll get the seventy-five thousand and right away buy a carriage and pair. No, sir, I'll go on wearing my two-year-old frock coat and drop all my club acquaintances. There are few people of self-control among us, and they're all usurers, but I want to show self-control. The main thing here is to carry it through to
the end—that's the whole task! When he was seventeen, Ptitsyn slept in the street, peddled penknives, and started with a kopeck; now he's got sixty thousand, but after what gymnastics! Well, I'm going to leap over all the gymnastics and start straight off with capital; in fifteen years people will say: 'There goes Ivolgin, the king of the Jews.' 36You tell me I'm an unoriginal man. Note for yourself, dear Prince, that nothing offends a man of our time and tribe more than to be told that he's unoriginal, weak of character, with no special talents, and an ordinary man. You didn't even deign to consider me a good scoundrel, and, you know, I wanted to eat you for that just now! You insulted me more than Epanchin, who considers me (and without any discussion, without any provocation, in the simplicity of his soul, note that) capable of selling him my wife! That, my dear, has long infuriated me, and I want money. Having made money, be it known to you—I'll become an original man in the highest degree. The meanest and most hateful thing about money is that it even gives one talent. And so it will be till the world ends. You'll say it's all childish or maybe poetry—so what, it's the more fun for me, but the main thing will be done all the same. I'll carry it through to the end and show self-control. Rira bien qui rira le dernier*Why does Epanchin offend me so? Out of spite, is it? Never, sir. Simply because I'm so insignificant. Well, sir, but then .. . Enough, however, it's late. Kolya has already poked his nose in twice: he's calling you to dinner. And I'm clearing out. I'll wander in to see you some time. It'll be nice for you here; they'll take you as one of the family now. Watch out, don't give me away. I have a feeling that you and I will either be friends or enemies. And what do you think, Prince, if I had kissed your hand earlier (as I sincerely offered to do), would it have made me your enemy afterwards?"
"It certainly would have, only not forever, later you would have been unable to keep from forgiving me," the prince decided after some reflection, and laughed.
"Aha! One must be more careful with you. Devil knows, you poured in some poison there, too. And, who knows, maybe you are my enemy? Incidentally—ha, ha, ha! I forgot to ask: is my impression right, that you like Nastasya Filippovna a bit too much, eh?"
"Yes ... I like her."
* He who laughs last laughs best.
"In love?"
"N-no!"
"But he turns all red and suffers. Well, all right, all right, I won't laugh. Good-bye. And, you know, she's a virtuous woman, can you believe that? You think she lives with that one, with Totsky? No, no! Not for a long time. And did you notice that she's terribly awkward and was even abashed for a few moments today? Really. There's the kind that loves domination. Well, good-bye!"
Ganechka went out much more casually than he came in, and in good spirits. For about ten minutes the prince remained motionless and pondered.
Kolya again stuck his head in at the door.
"I don't want any dinner, Kolya. I had a good lunch at the Epanchins'."
Kolya came all the way in the door and handed the prince a note. It was from the general, folded and sealed. By Kolya's face it could be seen that it was painful for him to deliver it. The prince read it, got up, and took his hat.
"It's two steps from here," Kolya became embarrassed. "He's sitting there now over a bottle. How he got them to give him credit I can't understand. Prince, dear heart, please don't tell them later that I brought you the note! I've sworn a thousand times not to do it, but I feel sorry for him. Oh, and please don't be ceremonious with him: give him a little something, and there's an end to it."