Fyodor Dostoyevsky: Complete Novels & Stories (Wisehouse Classics). Fyodor Dostoyevsky

you asked me this evening whether I were not in love with her; had you any idea?”

      “All I saw, uncle, was that you love her as much as anyone can love: you love her and at the same time you don’t know it yourself. Upon my word! You invite me, you want to marry me to her solely in order that she may become your niece, and so you may have her always with you...”

      “But you... you do forgive me, Sergey?”

      “Oh, uncle....”

      And he embraced me again.

      “Mind, uncle, they will all be against you: you must stand up for yourself and resist them, and no later than tomorrow!”

      “Yes... yes, tomorrow...” he repeated somewhat pensively. “And you know we must attack the business with manliness, with true nobility of soul, with strength of will... Yes, with strength of will!”

      “Don’t be frightened, uncle.”

      “I am not frightened, Seryozha! There’s one thing I don’t know how to begin, how to proceed.”

      “Don’t think about it, uncle. Tomorrow will settle everything. Set your mind at rest for to-day. The more you think the worse it will be. And if Foma begins—kick him out of the house at once and pound him to a jelly.”

      “And can’t we avoid kicking him out? What I have decided, my boy, is this. Tomorrow I shall go to him early, at dawn, I shall tell him all about it, just as I have told you here. Surely he cannot but understand me, he is a high-minded man, the most high-minded of men. But I tell you what does worry me: what if mamma speaks to Tatyana Ivanovna to-day of the offer to be made to her tomorrow? That would be unlucky, wouldn’t it?”

      “Don’t worry yourself about Tatyana Ivanovna, uncle.”

      And I told him about the scene in the arbour with Obnoskin. My uncle was extremely surprised. I did not say a word about Mizintchikov.

      “A fantastical person. A really fantastical person!” he cried. “Poor thing! They ingratiate themselves with her and try to take advantage of her simplicity. Was it really Obnoskin? But, you know, he has gone away... Strange, awfully strange! I am astonished, Seryozha... We must look into it tomorrow and take steps... But are you perfectly certain that it was Tatyana Ivanovna?”

      I answered that I had not seen her face, but for certain reasons I was positive that it was Tatyana Ivanovna.

      “H’m. Wasn’t it a little intrigue with one of the servant girls and you fancied it was Tatyana Ivanovna? Wasn’t it Dasha, the gardener’s daughter? A sly hussy! She has been remarked upon, that’s why I say so. Anna Nilovna caught her!... But it wasn’t she, though! He said he meant to marry her. Strange, strange!”

      At last we parted. I embraced my uncle and gave him my blessing.

      “Tomorrow, tomorrow,” he repeated, “it will all be settled; before you are up it will be settled. I shall go to Foma and take a chivalrous line, I will speak frankly as I would to my own brother, I will lay bare the inmost recesses of my heart. Good-bye, Seryozha. You go to bed, you are tired; but I am sure I shan’t shut my eyes all night.”

      He went away. I went to bed at once, tired out and utterly exhausted. It had been a hard day. My nerves were overwrought, and before I fell really asleep I kept starting and waking up again. But strange as my impressions were on going off to sleep, the strangeness of them was as nothing beside the queerness of my awakening next morning.

Part 2

Chapter 1 — The Pursuit

      I slept soundly without dreaming. Suddenly I felt as though a load of some hundredweights was lying on my feet. I cried out and woke up. It was daylight; the sun was peeping brightly into the room. On my bed, or rather on my feet, was sitting Mr. Bahtcheyev.

      It was impossible to doubt that it was he. Managing somehow to release my legs, I sat up in bed and looked at him with the blank amazement of a man just awake.

      “And now he is looking about him,” cried the fat man. “Why are you staring at me? Get up, sir, get up. I have been waking you for the last half-hour; rub away at your eyes!”

      “Why, what has happened? What’s the time?”

      “It’s still early by the clock, but our Fevronya did not wait for dawn, but has given us the slip. Get up, we are going in pursuit!”

      “What Fevronya?”

      “Why, our young lady, the crazy one! She has given us the slip! She was off before dawn. I came to you, sir, only for a minute, to wake you, and here I have been busy with you a couple of hours. Get up, your uncle’s waiting for you. They waited for the festive day!” he added, with a malignant quiver in his voice.

      “But whom and what are you talking about?” I asked impatiently, though I was beginning to guess. “Surely not Tatyana Ivanovna?”

      “To be sure. She it is. I said so, I foretold it; they wouldn’t listen to me. A nice treat she has given us for the festive day now! She is mad on amour, and has amour on the brain. Tfoo! And that fellow, what do you say to that fellow? With his little beard, eh?”

      “Can you mean Mizintchikov?”

      “Tfoo, plague take it! Why, my dear sir, you had better rub your eyes and pull yourself together—if only for the great holy festive day. You must have had a great deal too much at supper last night if you are still hazy this morning! With Mizintchikov! It’s with Obnoskin, not Mizintchikov. Ivan Ivanovitch Mizintchikov is a moral young man and he is coming with us in pursuit.”

      “What are you saying?” I cried, jumping up in bed. “Is it really with Obnoskin?”

      “Tfoo, you annoying person!” answered the fat man, leaping up from his seat. “I come to him as to a man of culture to inform him of what has happened, and he still doubts it. Well, sir, if you want to come with us, get up, shoot into your breeches. It’s no good my spending more words on you; I’ve wasted golden time on you as it is.”

      And he went out in extreme indignation.

      Amazed by the news, I jumped out of bed, hurriedly dressed, and ran downstairs. Thinking to find my uncle in the house, where everyone still seemed asleep and knowing nothing of what had happened, I cautiously mounted the front steps, and in the hall I met Nastenka. She seemed to have dressed hurriedly in some sort of peignoir or schlafrock. Her hair was in disorder; it was evident that she had only just jumped out of bed, and she seemed to be waiting for someone in the hall.

      “Tell me, is it true that Tatyana Ivanovna has run away with Obnoskin?” she asked hurriedly in a breaking voice, looking pale and frightened.

      “I am told it is true. I am looking for my uncle, we want to go after them.”

      “Oh, bring her back, make haste and bring her back. She will be ruined if you don’t fetch her back.”

      “But where is uncle?”

      “Most likely in the stable; they are getting the carriage out. I have been waiting for him here. Listen: tell him from me that I must go home to-day; I have quite made up my mind. My father will take me; I shall go at once if I can. Everything is hopeless now. All is lost!”

      Saying this, she looked at me as though she were utterly lost, and suddenly dissolved into tears. I think she began to be hysterical.

      “Calm yourself,” I besought her. “Why, it’s all for the best —you will see. What is the matter with you, Nastasya Yevgrafovna?”

      “I... I don’t know... what is the matter with me,” she said, sighing and unconsciously squeezing my hands. “Tell him...”

      At that instant there was a sound from the other side of the door on the right.

      She let go of my hand and, panic-stricken, ran away upstairs without finishing her sentence.

      I found the whole party—that