Pyotr Stepanovich

“ If you have guessed that I am going to Petersburg you can realise that I couldn’t tell them yesterday, at that moment, that I was going so far for fear of frightening them. You saw for yourself what a state they were in. But you understand that I am going for the cause, for work of the first importance, for the common cause, and not to save my skin, as Liputin imagines.”
“Pyotr Stepanovitch, what if you were going abroad? I should understand ... I should understand that you must be careful of yourself because you are everything and we are nothing. I shall understand, Pyotr Stepanovitch.” ”

“ It turned out later that Pyotr Stepanovitch had come to us with a very influential letter of recommendation, that he had, at any rate, brought one to the governor’s wife from a very important old lady in Petersburg, whose husband was one of the most distinguished old dignitaries in the capital. This old lady, who was Yulia Mihailovna’s godmother, mentioned in her letter that Count K. knew Pyotr Stepanovitch very well through Nikolay Vsyevolodovitch, made much of him, and thought him “a very excellent young man in spite of his former errors.” ”

“ Yes, of course,” faltered Pyotr Stepanovitch, seeming disconcerted. “There are rumours of her engagement, you know. It’s true, too. But you’re right, she’d run from under the wedding crown, you’ve only to call to her. You’re not angry at my saying so?”
“No, I’m not angry.”
“I notice it’s awfully hard to make you angry to-day, and I begin to be afraid of you. I’m awfully curious to know how you’ll appear to-morrow. I expect you’ve got a lot of things ready. You’re not angry at my saying so?”
Nikolay Vsyevolodovitch made no answer at all, which completed Pyotr Stepanovitch’s irritation. ”

“ Kirillov vouchsafed suddenly.
Pyotr Stepanovitch did not answer at once. “Damn it all, what is it now?” he thought again.
“I assure you, Kirillov, I have nothing against you personally as a man, and always ...”
“You are a scoundrel and a false intellect. But I am just the same as you are, and I will shoot myself while you will remain living.” ”

“ Stepan Trofimovitch, with a look of suffering on his face, began trying to catch my eye, but I turned away in time.
“... And only lately, only lately—oh, how unjust I’ve been to Nicolas! ... You would not believe how they have been worrying me on all sides, all, all, enemies, and rascals, and friends, friends perhaps more than enemies. When the first contemptible anonymous letter was sent to me, Pyotr Stepanovitch, you’ll hardly believe it, but I had not strength enough to treat all this wickedness with contempt.... I shall never, never forgive myself for my weakness.” ”

“ Pyotr Stepanovitch muttered jerkily.
“You’ll understand then the impulse which leads one in the blindness of generous feeling to take up a man who is unworthy of one in every respect, a man who utterly fails to understand one, who is ready to torture one at every opportunity and, in contradiction to everything, to exalt such a man into a sort of ideal, into a dream. To concentrate in him all one’s hopes, to bow down before him; to love him all one’s life, absolutely without knowing why—perhaps just because he was unworthy of it.... Oh, how I’ve suffered all my life, Pyotr Stepanovitch!” ”

“ Pyotr Stepanovitch looked at him intently, still not recognising him; but seeing Liputin peeping in from the kitchen, he smiled his hateful smile and suddenly got up, picking up his revolver from the floor.
“If you take it into your head to run away to-morrow like that scoundrel Stavrogin,” he cried, pouncing furiously on Kirillov, pale, stammering, and hardly able to articulate his words, “I’ll hang you ... like a fly ... or crush you ... if it’s at the other end of the world ... do you understand!” ”

“ How is Andrey Antonovitch?”
“Oh, how unjustly, how untruly, how cruelly you have always judged that angelic man!” Yulia Mihailovna cried in a sudden, outburst, almost with tears, putting her handkerchief to her eyes.
Pyotr Stepanovitch was positively taken aback for the moment. “Good heavens! I.... What have I said? I’ve always ...”
“You never have, never! You have never done him justice.”
“There’s no understanding a woman,” grumbled Pyotr Stepanovitch, with a wry smile.
“He is the most sincere, the most delicate, the most angelic of men! The most kind-hearted of men!” ”

“ If you stopped yourself, you become God; that’s it, isn’t it?”
“Yes, I become God.”
Pyotr Stepanovitch did not even smile; he waited. Kirillov looked at him subtly.
“You are a political impostor and intriguer. You want to lead me on into philosophy and enthusiasm and to bring about a reconciliation so as to disperse my anger, and then, when I am reconciled with you, beg from me a note to say I killed Shatov.”
Pyotr Stepanovitch answered with almost natural frankness.
“Well, supposing I am such a scoundrel. But at the last moments does that matter to you, Kirillov? ”

“ Pyotr Stepanovitch thought to himself, “and this very evening, in fact. You go too far.”
This or something like this must have been Pyotr Stepanovitch’s reflection. They were approaching Virginsky’s house.
“You’ve represented me, no doubt, as a member from abroad, an inspector in connection with the Internationale?” Stavrogin asked suddenly.
“No, not an inspector; you won’t be an inspector; but you are one of the original members from abroad, who knows the most important secrets—that’s your rôle. You are going to speak, of course?” ”

“ Karmazinov pronounced in a voice saturated with feeling, pressing his hands.
“You will have time to get out of the ship, you rat,” Pyotr Stepanovitch was thinking as he went out into the street. “Well, if that ‘imperial intellect’ inquires so confidently of the day and the hour and thanks me so respectfully for the information I have given, we mustn’t doubt of ourselves. [He grinned.] H’m! But he really isn’t stupid ... and he is simply a rat escaping; men like that don’t tell tales!”
He ran to Filipov’s house in Bogoyavlensky Street.
VI
Pyotr Stepanovitch went first to Kirillov’s. ”

“ And with the same minuteness he told them about Kirillov, of his intention to shoot himself, and of his promise to wait for a signal from them and to leave a letter behind him taking on himself anything they dictated to him (all of which the reader knows already) .
“His determination to take his own life—a philosophic, or as I should call it, insane decision—has become known there” Pyotr Stepanovitch went on to explain. “There not a thread, not a grain of dust is overlooked; everything is turned to the service of the cause. ”

“ I was sitting on a sofa in the corner.
Pyotr Stepanovitch quickly explained the reason of his coming. Of course, Stepan Trofimovitch was absolutely staggered, and he listened in alarm, which was mixed with extreme indignation.
“And that Yulia Mihailovna counts on my coming to read for her!”
“Well, they’re by no means in such need of you. On the contrary, it’s by way of an attention to you, so as to make up to Varvara Petrovna. But, of course, you won’t dare to refuse, and I expect you want to yourself,” he added with a grin. “You old fogies are all so devilishly ambitious. ”

“ Kirillov was sitting on his leather sofa drinking tea, as he always was at that hour. He did not get up to meet them, but gave a sort of start and looked at the new-comers anxiously.
“You are not mistaken,” said Pyotr Stepanovitch, “it’s just that I’ve come about.”
“To-day?”
“No, no, to-morrow ... about this time.” And he hurriedly sat down at the table, watching Kirillov’s agitation with some uneasiness. But the latter had already regained his composure and looked as usual.
“These people still refuse to believe in you. You are not vexed at my bringing Liputin?” ”

“ Pyotr Stepanovitch controlled himself and changed the subject.
“To speak of something else,” he began, “will you be with us this evening? It’s Virginsky’s name-day; that’s the pretext for our meeting.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Do me a favour. Do come. You must. We must impress them by our number and our looks. You have a face ... well, in one word, you have a fateful face.”
“You think so?” laughed Kirillov. “Very well, I’ll come, but not for the sake of my face. What time is it?” ”

“ “‘Vive la république démocratique sociale et universelle ou la mort!’ No, no, that’s not it. ‘Liberté, égalité, fraternité ou la mort.’ There, that’s better, that’s better.” He wrote it gleefully under his signature.
“Enough, enough,” repeated Pyotr Stepanovitch.
“Stay, a little more. I’ll sign it again in French, you know. ‘De Kirillov, gentilhomme russe et citoyen du monde.’ Ha ha!” ”

“ Pyotr Stepanovitch walked off alone, going round by the farther side of the pond, skirting the park. This was the longest way. To his surprise Liputin overtook him before he got half-way home.
“Pyotr Stepanovitch! Pyotr Stepanovitch! Lyamshin will give information!”
“No, he will come to his senses and realise that he will be the first to go to Siberia if he did. No one will betray us now. Even you won’t.” ”

“ Pyotr Stepanovitch looked at him with a strange, prolonged smile. It all lasted only one moment. Nikolay Vsyevolodovitch walked on.
II
He went to the “old man” straight from Varvara Petrovna’s, and he was in such haste simply from spite, that he might revenge himself for an insult of which I had no idea at that time. The fact is that at their last interview on the Thursday of the previous week, Stepan Trofimovitch, though the dispute was one of his own beginning, had ended by turning Pyotr Stepanovitch out with his stick. ”

“ Kirillov scanned him contemptuously.
“You see,” Pyotr Stepanovitch went on, getting angrier and angrier, and unable to take the right tone, “you want me to go away, to be alone, to concentrate yourself, but all that’s a bad sign for you—for you above all. You want to think a great deal. ”

“ Erkel brought out resolutely.
“Liputin?”
“None of them, Pyotr Stepanovitch.”
“Nonsense! they are all bound by what happened yesterday. There isn’t one who would turn traitor. People won’t go to certain destruction unless they’ve lost their reason.”
“Pyotr Stepanovitch, but they will lose their reason.” Evidently that idea had already occurred to Pyotr Stepanovitch too, and so Erkel’s observation irritated him the more. ”

“ Kirillov stood firmly before him.
“No, that’s impossible.” Pyotr Stepanovitch took up his revolver again. “Now in your spite and cowardice you may think fit to put it off and to turn traitor to-morrow, so as to get money again; they’ll pay you for that, of course. Damn it all, fellows like you are capable of anything! Only don’t trouble yourself; I’ve provided for all contingencies: I am not going till I’ve dashed your brains out with this revolver, as I did to that scoundrel Shatov, if you are afraid to do it yourself and put off your intention, damn you!” ”

“ You know, she would like to astonish Petersburg. No, she’s too hot-headed, she really is.”
“Yes, she has something of that fougue,” Andrey Antonovitch muttered with some satisfaction, though at the same time he resented this unmannerly fellow’s daring to express himself rather freely about Yulia Mihailovna. But Pyotr Stepanovitch probably imagined that he had not gone far enough and that he must exert himself further to flatter Lembke and make a complete conquest of him.
“Fougue is just it,” he assented. “She may be a woman of genius, a literary woman, but she would scare our sparrows. ”

“ Erkel evidently wanted to speak of something of importance in the last moments, though possibly he did not himself know exactly of what, but he could not bring himself to begin! He kept fancying that Pyotr Stepanovitch seemed anxious to get rid of him and was impatient for the last bell.
“You look at every one so openly,” he observed with some timidity, as though he would have warned him.
“Why not? It would not do for me to conceal myself at present. It’s too soon. Don’t be uneasy. All I am afraid of is that the devil might send Liputin this way; he might scent me out and race off here.” ”

“ I’m not Varvara Petrovna, mind you.”
He got up and took his hat.
“I curse you henceforth!”
Stepan Trofimovitch, as pale as death, stretched out his hand above him.
“Ach, what folly a man will descend to!” cried Pyotr Stepanovitch, actually surprised. “Well, good-bye, old fellow, I shall never come and see you again. Send me the article beforehand, don’t forget, and try and let it be free from nonsense. Facts, facts, facts. And above all, let it be short. Good-bye.” ”

“ Why Fedka? And what about the fire? I want it all and I want to be abusive in tone, too, in tone!”
“Enough, Kirillov, I assure you it’s enough,” cried Pyotr Stepanovitch almost imploringly, trembling lest he should tear up the paper; “that they may believe you, you must say it as obscurely as possible, just like that, simply in hints. You must only give them a peep of the truth, just enough to tantalise them. They’ll tell a story better than ours, and of course they’ll believe themselves more than they would us; and you know, it’s better than anything—better than anything! ”

“ You have put yourself in a position in which you know too much. If you are an ass and go off to-morrow to inform the police, that would be rather a disadvantage to us; what do you think about it? Yes, you’ve bound yourself; you’ve given your word, you’ve taken money. That you can’t deny....”
Pyotr Stepanovitch was much excited, but for some time past Kirillov had not been listening. He paced up and down the room, lost in thought again.
“I am sorry for Shatov,” he said, stopping before Pyotr Stepanovitch again. ”