So at the risk of missing General Epanchin altogether, and thus postponing his visit to Pavlofsk for a day, at least, the prince decided to go and look for the house he desired to find.
The visit he was about to pay was, in some respects, a risky one. He was in two minds about it, but knowing that the house was in the Gorohovaya, not far from the Sadovaya, he determined to go in that direction, and to try to make up his mind on the way.
Arrived at the point where the Gorohovaya crosses the Sadovaya, he was surprised to find how excessively agitated he was. He had no idea that his heart could beat so painfully.
One house in the Gorohovaya began to attract his attention long before he reached it, and the prince remembered afterwards that he had said to himself: 'That is the house, I'm sure of it.' He came up to it quite curious to discover whether he had guessed right, and felt that he would be disagreeably impressed to find that he had actually done so. The house was a large gloomy- looking structure, without the slightest claim to architectural beauty, in colour a dirty green. There are a few of these old houses, built towards the end of the last century, still standing in that part of St. Petersburg, and showing little change from their original form and colour. They are solidly built, and are remarkable for the thickness of their walls, and for the fewness of their windows, many of which are covered by gratings. On the ground-floor there is usually a money-changer's shop, and the owner lives over it. Without as well as within, the houses seem inhospitable and mysterious--an impression which is difficult to explain, unless it has something to do with the actual architectural style. These houses are almost exclusively inhabited by the merchant class.
Arrived at the gate, the prince looked up at the legend over it, which ran:
'House of Rogojin, hereditary and honourable citizen.'
He hesitated no longer; but opened the glazed door at the bottom of the outer stairs and made his way up to the second storey. The place was dark and gloomy-looking; the walls of the stone staircase were painted a dull red. Rogojin and his mother and brother occupied the whole of the second floor. The servant who opened the door to Muishkin led him, without taking his name, through several rooms and up and down many steps until they arrived at a door, where he knocked.
Parfen Rogojin opened the door himself.
On seeing the prince he became deadly white, and apparently fixed to the ground, so that he was more like a marble statue than a human being. The prince had expected some surprise, but Rogojin evidently considered his visit an impossible and miraculous event. He stared with an expression almost of terror, and his lips twisted into a bewildered smile.
'Parfen! perhaps my visit is ill-timed. I-I can go away again if you like,' said Muishkin at last, rather embarrassed.
'No, no; it's all right, come in,' said Parfen, recollecting himself.
They were evidently on quite familiar terms. In Moscow they had had many occasions of meeting; indeed, some few of those meetings were but too vividly impressed upon their memories. They had not met now, however, for three months.
The deathlike pallor, and a sort of slight convulsion about the lips, had not left Rogojin's face. Though he welcomed his guest, he was still obviously much disturbed. As he invited the prince to sit down near the table, the latter happened to turn towards him, and was startled by the strange expression on his face. A painful recollection flashed into his mind. He stood for a time, looking straight at Rogojin, whose eyes seemed to blaze like fire. At last Rogojin smiled, though he still looked agitated and shaken.
'What are you staring at me like that for?' he muttered. 'Sit down.'
The prince took a chair.
'Parfen,' he said, 'tell me honestly, did you know that I was coming to Petersburg or no?'
'Oh, I supposed you were coming,' the other replied, smiling sarcastically, and I was right in my supposition, you see; but how was I to know that you would come TODAY?'
A certain strangeness and impatience in his manner impressed the prince very forcibly.
'And if you had known that I was coming today, why be so irritated about it?' he asked, in quiet surprise.
'Why did you ask me?'
'Because when I jumped out of the train this morning, two eyes glared at me just as yours did a moment since.'
'Ha! and whose eyes may they have been?' said Rogojin, suspiciously. It seemed to the prince that he was trembling.
'I don't know; I thought it was a hallucination. I often have hallucinations nowadays. I feel just as I did five years ago when my fits were about to come on.'
'Well, perhaps it was a hallucination, I don't know,' said Parfen.
He tried to give the prince an affectionate smile, and it seemed to the latter as though in this smile of his something had broken, and that he could not mend it, try as he would.
'Shall you go abroad again then?' he asked, and suddenly added, 'Do you remember how we came up in the train from Pskoff together? You and your cloak and leggings, eh?'
And Rogojin burst out laughing, this time with unconcealed malice, as though he were glad that he had been able to find an opportunity for giving vent to it.
'Have you quite taken up your quarters here?' asked the prince
'Yes, I'm at home. Where else should I go to?'
'We haven't met for some time. Meanwhile I have heard things about you which I should not have believed to be possible.'
'What of that? People will say anything,' said Rogojin drily.
'At all events, you've disbanded your troop--and you are living in your own house instead of being fast and loose about the place; that's all very good. Is this house all yours, or joint property?'
'It is my mother's. You get to her apartments by that passage.'
'Where's your brother?'
'In the other wing.'
'Is he married?'
'Widower. Why do you want to know all this?'
The prince looked at him, but said nothing. He had suddenly relapsed into musing, and had probably not heard the question at all. Rogojin did not insist upon an answer, and there was silence for a few moments.
'I guessed which was your house from a hundred yards off,' said the prince at last.
'Why so?'
'I don't quite know. Your house has the aspect of yourself and all your family; it bears the stamp of the Rogojin life; but ask me why I think so, and I can tell you nothing. It is nonsense, of course. I am nervous about this kind of thing troubling me so much. I had never before imagined what sort of a house you would live in, and yet no sooner did I set eyes on this one than I said to myself that it must be yours.'
'Really!' said Rogojin vaguely, not taking in what the prince meant by his rather obscure remarks.
The room they were now sitting in was a large one, lofty but dark, well furnished, principally with writing- tables and desks covered with papers and books. A wide sofa covered with red morocco evidently served Rogojin for a bed. On the table beside which the prince had been invited to seat himself lay some books; one containing a marker where the reader had left off, was a volume of Solovieff's History. Some oil-paintings in worn gilded frames hung on the walls, but it was impossible to make out what subjects they represented, so blackened were they by smoke and age. One, a life-sized portrait, attracted the prince's attention. It showed a man of about fifty, wearing a long riding- coat of German cut. He had two medals on his breast; his beard was white, short and thin; his face yellow and wrinkled, with a sly, suspicious expression in the eyes.
'That is your father, is it not?' asked the prince.
'Yes, it is,' replied Rogojin with an unpleasant smile, as if he had expected his guest to ask the question, and then to make some disagreeable remark.
'Was he one of the Old Believers?'
'No, he went to church, but to tell the truth he really preferred the old religion. This was his study and is now mine. Why did you ask if he were an Old Believer?'
'Are you going to be married here?'
