'On business?'
'Yes, on business.'
Well, what more was there for me to ask? I did, however, continue walking beside him, but he suddenly turned into the Hotel des Quatre Saisons, nodded to me and vanished. As I walked home I gradually realised that if I had talked to him for a couple of hours I should have learnt absolutely nothing, because. . . I had nothing to ask him! Yes, that was so, of course! I could not possibly foimulate my question.
AH that day Polina spent walking with the children and their nurse in the park, or sitting at home. She had for a long time past avoided the General, and scarcely spoke to him about anything—about anything serious, at any rate. I had noticed that for a long time past. But knowing what a position the General was in to-day, I imagined that he could hardly pass her over— that is, there could not but be an important conversation about family affairs between them. When, however, I returned to the hotel, after my conversation with Mr. Astley, I met Polina with the children. There was an expression of the most unruffled calm on her face, as though she alone had remained untouched by the family tempest. She nodded in response to my bow. I returned home feeling quite malignant.
I had, of course, avoided seeing her and had seen nothing of her since the incident with the Burmerhelms. There was some affectation and pose in this; but as time went on, I felt more and more genuinely indignant. Even if she did not care for me in the least, she should not, I thought, have trampled on my feelings like that and have received my declarations so
contemptuously. She knew that I really loved her; she admitted me, she allowed me to speak like that! It is true that it had begun rather strangely. Some time before, long ago, in fact, two months before, I began to notice that she wanted to make me her friend, her confidant, and indeed was in a way testing me. But somehow this did not come off then; instead of that there remained the strange relations that existed between us; that is how it was I began to speak to her like that. But if my love repelled her, why did she not directly forbid me to speak of it?
She did not forbid me; indeed she sometimes provoked me to talk of it and . . . and, of course, she did this for fun. I know for certain. I noticed it unmistakably—^it was agreeable to her to Usten and to work me up to a state of misery, to woimd me by some display of the utmost contempt and disregard. And, of course, she knew that I could not exist without her. It was three days since the affair with the Baron and I coidd not endure our separation any longer. When I met her just now near the Casino, my heart throbbed so that I turned pale. But she could not get on without me, either! She needed me and— surely, surely not as a buffoon, a clown?
She had a secret—^that was clear! Her conversation with Granny had stabbed my heart. Why, I had urged her a thousand times to be open with me, and she knew 5iat I was ready to give my life for her. But she had alwaj^ put me off, almost with contempt, or had asked of me, instead of the sacrifice of my Ufe, such pranks as the one with the Baron I
Was not that enough to make one indignant? Could that Frenchman be all the world to her? And Mr. Astley? But at that point the position became utterly incomprehensible—and meanwhile, my God I what agonies I went through.
On getting home, in an access of fury I snatched up my pen and scribbled the following letter to her:
'Polina Alexandrovna, I see clearly that the denotement is at hand which will affect you also. I repeat for the last time: do you need my life or not? If I can be of use in any way whatever, dispose of me as you think fit, and I will meanwhile remain in my room and not go out at all. If you need me, write to me or send for me.'
I sealed up this note and sent it off by the corridor attendant,
instructing him to give it into her hands. I expected no answer, but three minutes later the attendant returned with the message that 'she sent her greetings'.
It was past six when I was summoned to the General.
He was in his study, dressed as though he were on the point of going out. His hat and coat were lying on the sofa. It seemed to me as I went in that he was standing in the middle of the room with his legs wide apart and his head hanging, talking aloud to himself. But as soon as he saw me, he ru^ed at me almost crying out, so that I involuntarily stepped back and was almost running away, but he seized me by both hands and drew me to the sofa; sat down on the sofa himself, made me sit down in an armchair just opposite himself, and, keeping tight hold of my hand, with trembling lips and with tears suddenly glistening on his eyelashes, began speaking in an imploring voice.
'Alexey Ivanovitch, save, save me, spare me.'
It was a long while before I could understand. He kept talking and talking and talking, continually repeating, 'Spare me, spare me!' At last I guessed that he expected something in the way of advice from me; or rather, abandoned by all in his misery and anxiety, he had thought of me and had sent for me, simply to talk and talk and taBc to me.
He was mad, or at any rate utterly distraught. He clasped his hands and was on the point of dropping on his knees before me to implore me (what do you suppose?) to go at once to Mile. Blanche and to beseech, to urge her to return to him and marry him.
'Upon my word. General,' I cried; 'why, Mile. Blanche is perhaps scarcely aware of my existence. What can I do?'
But it was vain to protest; he didn't imderstand what was said to him. He fell to talking about Granny, too, but with terrible incoherence; he was still harping on the idea of sending for the poUce.
'Among us, among us,' he began, suddenly boiling over with indignation; 'among us, in a well-ordered state, in fact, where there is a Government in control of things, such old women would have been put under guardianship at once! Yes, my dear sir, yes,' he went on, suddenly dropping into a scolding tone, jumping up from his chair and pacing about the room; 'you may not be aware of the fact, honoured sir,' he said, addressing some imaginary 'honoured sir' in the comer, 'so let me tell you . . . yes . . . among us such old women
are kept in order, kept in order; yes, indeed. . . . Oh, damn it all!'
And he flung himself on the sofa again, and a minute later, almost sobbing, gasping for breath, hastened to tell me that Mile. Blanche would not marry him because Granny had come instead of the telegram, and that now it was clear he would not come into the inheritance. He imagined that I knew nothing of this till then. I began to speak of De Grieux; he waved his hand: 'He has gone awayl Everj^ing of mine he has in pawn; I'm stripped of everything! That money you brought . . . that money—I don't know how much there is, I thmk seven hundred francs are left and that's enough, that's all and what's to come—I don't know, I don't know! . . .'
'How will you pay your hotel bill?' I cried in alarm; 'and . . . afterwards what will you do?'
He looked at me pensively, but I fancy he did not understand and perhaps did not hear what I said. I tried to speak of Polina Alexandrovna, of the children; he hurriedly answered: 'Yes! yes!' but at once feU to talking of the Prince again, sa5dng tiiat Blanche would go away with him now and 'then . . . then, what am I to do, Alexey Ivanovitch?' he asked, addressing me suddenly. 'I vow, by God! I don't know what to do; tell me, isn't this ingratitude? Isn't this ingratitude?'
Finally he dissolved into floods of tears.
There was no doing anything with such a man; it would be dangerous to leave him alone, too—something might happen to him. I got rid of him somehow, but let nurse know she must look in upon him pretty frequently, and also spoke to the corridor attendant, a very sensible fellow; he, too, promised me to keep an eye on the General.
I had hardly left the General when Potapitch came to summon me to Granny. It was eight o'clock and she had only just come back from the Casino after losing everj^thing. I went to her; the old lady was sitting in an armchair, utterly worn out and evidently ill. Marfa was giving her a cup of tea and almost forcing her to drink it. And Graimy's tone and voice were utterly dianged.
'Good-day, Alexey Ivanovitch, my good sir,' she said, bending her head slowly, and with dignity; 'excuse me for troubling you once more, you must excuse an old woman. 1 have left everything behind there, my friend, nearly a hundred thousand roubles. You did well not to come with me yesterday. Now I have no money, not a farthing. I don't want to delay
a moment, at half-past nine I'm setting off. I have sent to that Englishman of yours—^what's his name, Astley—I want to ask him to lend me three thousand francs for a week. So you must persuade him not to take it amiss and refuse. I am still fairly well off, my friend. I have still three villages and two houses. And there is still some money. I didn't bring it all with me. I tell you this that he may not feel any doubts . . . Ah, here he isl One can see he is a nice man.'
Mr. Astley had hastened to come at Granny's first summons. With no hesitation and without wasting words
