I’ve heard; if there are rumours they have not been of my spreading.”
“I did not mean it for you!” I answered quickly, but Stebelkov had burst into an outrageous roar of laughter, caused as he explained afterwards by Darzan’s having addressed me as prince. My diabolical surname had got me into a mess again. Even now I blush at the thought that I had not the courage — through shame, of course — to set right this blunder and to protest aloud that I was “simply Dolgoruky.” It was the first time in my life I had let it pass. Darzan looked in perplexity at me and at Stebelkov’s laughter.
“Ah yes! Who was the pretty girl I met on the stairs just now, a slim, fair little thing?” he suddenly asked Prince Sergay.
“I really don’t know,” the latter answered quickly, reddening.
“How should you?” laughed Darzan.
“Though . . . it . . . it might have been. . . .” Prince Sergay faltered oddly.
“It was . . . this gentleman’s sister, Lizaveta Makarovna!” said Stebelkov suddenly pointing to me, “for I met her just now too. . . .”
“Ah indeed!” Prince Sergay put in quickly, speaking this time, however, with an extremely grave and dignified expression, “it must have been Lizaveta Makarovna, who is a great friend of Anna Fyodorovna Stolbyeev, in whose flat I am staying; she must have come to-day to see Darya Onisimovna, another of Anna Fyodorovna’s great friends, whom she left in charge of the house when she went away. . . .”
This was all true. Darya Onisimovna was the mother of poor Olya, whose story I have told already. Tatyana Pavlovna had found a refuge for the poor woman at last with Mme. Stolbyeev. I know very well that Liza had been sometimes at Mme. Stolbyeev’s, and had lately visited there Darya Onisimovna, of whom every one at home was very fond; but after this statement by Prince Sergay — sensible as it was, however — and still more Stebelkov’s stupid outburst, and perhaps because I had been called prince, I suddenly flushed all over. Luckily at that very instant Nastchokin stood up to take leave; he offered his hand to Darzan also. At the moment Stebelkov and I were left alone; he nodded his head to me in the direction of Darzan, who was standing in the doorway with his back to us; I shook my fist at Stebelkov.
A minute later Darzan, too, got up to go, after arranging with Prince Sergay to meet him next day at some place, a gambling house, I believe. As he went out he shouted something to Stebelkov, and made me a slight bow. Hardly had he gone out when Stebelkov jumped up and stood in the middle of the room, pointing to the ceiling with his finger:
“I’ll tell you the trick that fine young gentleman played last week. He gave an IOU to Averyanov and signed a false name to it. That IOU is still in existence, but it’s not been honoured! It’s criminal! Eight thousand!”
“And no doubt that IOU is in your hands?” I cried, glaring at him savagely.
“I have a bank, I have a mont-de-piete, I am not a broker. Have you heard that there is a mont-de-piete in Paris? Bread and benevolence for the poor; I have a mont-de-piete. . . .”
Prince Sergay rudely and angrily cut him short.
“What are you doing here? What are you staying for?”
“But,” Stebelkov blinked rapidly, “what about that? Won’t it do?”
“No, no, no,” Prince Sergay shouted, stamping; “I’ve said so.”
“Well, if so . . . that’s so. . . . But that’s a mistake. . . .”
He turned abruptly and with bowed head and bent spine went quickly out of the room. Prince Sergay called after him when he was in the doorway:
“You may as well know, sir, that I am not in the least afraid of you.”
He was very much irritated, he was about to sit down, but glancing at me, remained standing. His eyes seemed to say to me also, “Why are you hanging about here too?”
“Prince, I . . .” I was beginning.
“I’ve really no time to listen, Arkady Makarovitch, I’m just going out.”
“One minute, prince, it’s very important; and, to begin with, take back your three hundred.”
“What’s this now?”
He was walking up and down, but he stopped short.
“This now is that after all that has passed . . . and what you’ve said about Versilov . . . that he was dishonourable, and in fact your tone all the time. . . . In short, I can’t possibly take it.”
“You’ve been TAKING it for the last month, though.”
He suddenly sat down on the chair. I was standing at the table, and with one hand I patted the volume of Byelinsky, while I held my hat in the other.
“I had different feelings, prince . . . and, in fact, I would never have brought it to such a sum . . . it was the gambling . . . in short, I can’t!”
“You have not distinguished yourself to-day, and so you are in a rage; I’ll ask you to leave that book alone.”
“What does that mean: ‘not distinguished myself’? And, in fact, before your visitors you almost put me on a level with Stebelkov.”
“So that’s the key to the riddle!” he said with a biting smile. “You were abashed by Darzan’s calling you prince, too.”
He laughed spitefully. I flared up.
“I simply don’t understand; I wouldn’t take your title as a gift.”
“I know your character. How absurdly you cried out in defence of Mme. Ahmakov . . . let that book alone!”
“What’s the meaning of it?” I cried.
“L-l-let the book alone!” he yelled suddenly, drawing himself up in the low chair, with a ferocious movement, as though about to spring at me.
“This is beyond all limits,” I said, and I walked quickly out of the room, but before I had reached the end of the drawing-room, he shouted to me from the study:
“Arkady Makarovitch, come back! Co-ome ba-ack! Co-ome ba-ack!”
I went on without heeding. He hastily overtook me, seized me by the arm, and dragged me back into the study. I did not resist.
“Take it,” he said, pale with excitement, handing me the three hundred roubles I had thrown on the table. “You must take it . . . or else we . . . you must!”
“Prince, how can I take it?”
“Oh, I’ll beg your pardon . . . if you like . . . all right, forgive me! . . .”
“I have always liked you, prince, and if you feel the same . . .”
“I do; take it. . . .”
I took the money. His lips were trembling.
“I can understand, prince, that you are exasperated by that scoundrel . . . but I won’t take it, prince, unless we kiss each other, as we have done when we’ve quarrelled before.”
I was trembling, too, as I said this.
“Now for sentimentality,” muttered Prince Sergay, with an embarrassed smile, but he bent down and kissed me. I shuddered; at the instant he kissed me I caught on his face an unmistakable look of aversion.
“Did he bring you the money, anyway? . . .”
“Aie, never mind.”
“I was asking on your account. . . .”
“Yes he did, he did.”
“Prince, we have been friends . . . and in fact, Versilov. . . .”
“Yes, yes. That’s all right!”
“And in fact . . . I really don’t know . . . about this three hundred. . . .”
I was holding the money in my hand.
“Take it, ta-ake it!” he smiled again, but there was something very vicious in his smile.
I took the money.
Last updated on Wed Jan 12 09:26:22 2011 for eBooks@Adelaide.
