The Adolescent

“What is this?” I yelled almost senselessly at my landlord. “How dared you bring this rascally woman to my room?”

“Tiens!” Alphonsinka cried out, “et les amis?”⁹⁷

“Out!” I bellowed.

“Mais c’est un ours!”⁹⁸ she fluttered out to the corridor, pretending to be frightened, and instantly disappeared into the landlady’s room. Pyotr Ippolitovich, still holding the candle, approached me with a stern look.

“Allow me to observe to you, Arkady Makarovich, that you have grown too hot-tempered; much as we respect you, Mamzelle Alphonsine is not a rascally woman, but even quite the contrary, she is here as a guest, and not yours, but my wife’s, with whom she has been mutually acquainted for some time now.”

“But how dared you bring her to my room?” I repeated, clutching my head, which almost suddenly began to ache terribly.

“By chance, sir. I went in to close the vent window, which I myself had opened for the fresh air; and since Alphonsina Karlovna and I were continuing our previous conversation, in the midst of this conversation she, too, went into your room, solely to accompany me.”

“Not true, Alphonsinka’s a spy, Lambert’s a spy! Maybe you’re a spy yourself! And Alphonsinka came to steal something from me.”

“That’s as you like. Today you’re pleased to say one thing, tomorrow another. And my apartment I’ve rented out for a while, and will move with my wife into the storeroom; so Alphonsina Karlovna is now almost as much of a tenant here as you are, sir.”

“You’ve rented out the apartment to Lambert?” I cried in fear.

“No, sir, not to Lambert,” he smiled his previous long smile, in which, however, firmness could now be seen instead of the morning’s perplexity. “I suppose you’re so good as to know to whom, and are only putting on a vain air of not knowing, solely for the beauty of it, sir, and that’s why you’re angry. Good night, sir!”

“Yes, yes, leave me, leave me in peace!” I waved my hands, all but weeping, so that he suddenly looked at me in surprise; however, he left. I fastened the latch on the door and collapsed on my bed, face to the pillow. And so there passed for me the first terrible day of those three fateful last days with which my notes conclude.

Chapter Ten

I

BUT AGAIN, ANTICIPATING the course of events, I find it necessary to explain at least something to the reader beforehand, for here so many chance things mingled with the logical sequence of this story that it is impossible to make it out without explaining them beforehand. Here the matter consisted in that same “deadly noose” that Tatyana Pavlovna had let on about. The noose consisted in Anna Andreevna risking, finally, the boldest step that could be imagined in her situation. True character! Though the old prince, under the pretext of health, had been opportunely confiscated to Tsarskoe Selo then, so that the news of his marriage to Anna Andreevna might not spread in society and for a time would be snuffed out, so to speak, in the bud, nevertheless, the feeble old man, with whom anything could be done, would not for any reason in the world abandon his idea and betray Anna Andreevna, who had proposed to him. On this account he was chivalrous; so that sooner or later he might suddenly rise up and set about fulfilling his intention with irrepressible force, which is quite, quite likely to happen precisely with weak characters, for they have this limit, to which they ought not to be driven. Besides, he was perfectly aware of all the ticklishness of the position of Anna Andreevna, for whom he had boundless respect, aware of the possibility of society rumors, mockery, and bad fame on her account. The only thing that had restrained and stopped him so far was that in his presence Katerina Nikolaevna had never once, either by a word or a hint, allowed herself to mention Anna Andreevna in a bad sense, or betray anything at all against his intention to marry her. On the contrary, she displayed extreme cordiality and attentiveness towards her father’s fiancee. Thus Anna Andreevna was put in an extremely awkward position, sensing with her subtle feminine flair that the slightest calumny against Katerina Nikolaevna, before whom the prince also stood in awe, and now more than ever, precisely because she so goodnaturedly and respectfully allowed him to marry—the slightest calumny against her would offend all his tender feelings and arouse mistrust of her in him and even, perhaps, indignation. Thus it was in this field that the battle had gone on so far: the two rivals were as if rivaling each other in delicacy and patience, and in the end the prince no longer knew which of them to be more surprised at, and, as is usual with all weak but tenderhearted people, ended by beginning to suffer and blame himself alone for everything. His anguish, they said, reached the point of illness; his nerves were indeed upset, and instead of recovering in Tsarskoe, he was, as they assured me, ready to take to his bed.

Here I’ll note in parenthesis something I learned much later: that Bjoring had supposedly proposed directly to Katerina Nikolaevna that they take the old man abroad, persuading him to go by some sort of deceit, meanwhile make it known privately in society that he had completely lost his reason, and obtain a doctor’s certificate for it abroad. But Katerina Nikolaevna wouldn’t do that for anything—so at least they maintained afterwards. She supposedly rejected the plan with indignation. All this is only the most distant rumor, but I believe it.

And so, when the matter had reached, so to speak, the point of ultimate hopelessness, Anna Andreevna suddenly learns through Lambert that there exists this letter in which the daughter had consulted a lawyer about the means of declaring her father insane. Her vengeful and proud mind was aroused in the highest degree. Remembering her former conversations with me, and grasping a multitude of the tiniest circumstances, she could not doubt the correctness of the information. Then, in that firm, inexorable feminine heart, the plan for a bold stroke ripened irrepressibly. The plan consisted in suddenly telling the prince everything outright, without preliminaries and calumnies, frightening him, shocking him, pointing out that the madhouse inevitably awaited him, and when he resisted, became indignant, refused to believe it—showing him his daughter’s letter, as if to say, “since there once was an intention of declaring him insane, so now it was all the more likely, in order to prevent the marriage.” After which they would take the frightened and crushed old man and move him to Petersburg— straight to my apartment.

This was a terrible risk, but she trusted firmly in her power. Here, departing from my story for a moment, I’ll say, running very far ahead, that she was not deceived in the effect of her stroke; moreover, the effect went beyond all her expectations. The news of this letter affected the old prince maybe several times more strongly than she or any of us had supposed. I never knew until then that the prince had known something about this letter before; but, as is usual with all weak and timid people, he hadn’t believed the rumor and had warded it off with all his might, so as to remain at peace; what’s more, he blamed himself for his ignoble gullibility. I’ll also add that the fact of the letter’s existence affected Katerina Nikolaevna, too, incomparably more strongly than I myself then expected . . . In short, this document turned out to be much more important than I myself, who was carrying it in my pocket, had supposed. But here I’ve run too far ahead.

But why, I’ll be asked, to my apartment? Why move the prince to our pathetic little rooms and maybe frighten him with our pathetic furnishings? If it was impossible to go to his house (because there the whole thing could be hindered at once), then why not to a special “rich” apartment, as Lambert had suggested? But here lay the whole