Pyotr Stepanovitch

“ 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 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 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!” ”

“ 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.” ”

“ 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.” ”

“ 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?” ”

“ You don’t mean to say it’s come to that,” laughed Nicolas. “However, I’m very grateful to Pyotr Stepanovitch for being in such a hurry this time.” He exchanged a rapid glance with the latter. “You must know, maman, that Pyotr Stepanovitch is the universal peacemaker; that’s his part in life, his weakness, his hobby, and I particularly recommend him to you from that point of view. I can guess what a yarn he’s been spinning. He’s a great hand at spinning them; he has a perfect record-office in his head. ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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?” ”

“ 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!” ”

“ 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! ”

“ 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? ”

“ Stepan Trofimovitch made her a very, very low bow.
“It’s for you to decide, Darya Pavlovna; you know that you are perfectly free in the whole matter! You have been, and you are now, and you always will be,” Varvara Petrovna concluded impressively.
“Bah! Now I understand it all!” cried Pyotr Stepanovitch, slapping himself on the forehead. “But ... but what a position I am put in by all this! Darya Pavlovna, please forgive me!... What do you call your treatment of me, eh?” ”

“ But to do it without any cause at all, simply for self-will, I am the only one.”
“He won’t shoot himself,” flashed across Pyotr Stepanovitch’s mind again.
“Do you know,” he observed irritably, “if I were in your place I should kill someone else to show my self-will, not myself. You might be of use. I’ll tell you whom, if you are not afraid. Then you needn’t shoot yourself to-day, perhaps. We may come to terms.”
“To kill someone would be the lowest point of self-will, and you show your whole soul in that. I am not you: I want the highest point and I’ll kill myself.” ”

“ Pyotr Stepanovitch is treating me abominably!”
Nikolay Vsyevolodovitch listened with interest, and looked at him attentively. It was evident that though Captain Lebyadkin had left off drinking he was far from being in a harmonious state of mind. Drunkards of many years’ standing, like Lebyadkin, often show traces of incoherence, of mental cloudiness, of something, as it were, damaged, and crazy, though they may deceive, cheat, and swindle, almost as well as anybody if occasion arises. ”

“ I speak to you, sir, as to my father, or my own brother; for Pyotr Stepanovitch will never learn that from me, and not a soul in the world. So won’t your excellency spare me three roubles in your kindness? You might set my mind at rest, so that I might know the real truth; for we can’t get on without assistance.”
Nikolay Vsyevolodovitch laughed aloud, and taking out his purse, in which he had as much as fifty roubles, in small notes, threw him one note out of the bundle, then a second, a third, a fourth. Fedka flew to catch them in the air. ”

“ 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?” ”

“ 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.” ”

“ 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. ”

“ Pyotr Stepanovitch started up apprehensively, putting out his hand.
Kirillov subsided and began walking up and down again.
“I won’t put it off; I want to kill myself now: all are scoundrels.”
“Well, that’s an idea; of course all are scoundrels; and since life is a beastly thing for a decent man ...”
“Fool, I am just such a scoundrel as you, as all, not a decent man. There’s never been a decent man anywhere.” ”

“ Pyotr Stepanovitch whispered to him mysteriously. “I am going with letters from Yulia Mihailovna and have to call on three or four personages, as you can imagine—bother them all, to speak candidly. It’s a beastly job!”
“But why is she in such a panic? Tell me,” the young man whispered too. “She wouldn’t see even me yesterday. I don’t think she has anything to fear for her husband, quite the contrary; he fell down so creditably at the fire—ready to sacrifice his life, so to speak.” ”

“ 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. ”

“ Pyotr Stepanovitch firmly and accurately put his revolver to Shatov’s forehead, pressed it to it, and pulled the trigger. The shot seems not to have been loud; nothing was heard at Skvoreshniki, anyway. Shigalov, who was scarcely three paces away, of course heard it—he heard the shout and the shot, but, as he testified afterwards, he did not turn nor even stop. Death was almost instantaneous. Pyotr Stepanovitch was the only one who preserved all his faculties, but I don’t think he was quite cool. Squatting on his heels, he searched the murdered man’s pockets hastily, though with steady hand. ”

“ That’s very bad.”
“Stavrogin, too, is consumed by an idea,” Kirillov said gloomily, pacing up and down the room. He had not noticed the previous remark.
“What?” Pyotr Stepanovitch pricked up his ears. “What idea? Did he tell you something himself?”
“No, I guessed it myself: if Stavrogin has faith, he does not believe that he has faith. If he hasn’t faith, he does not believe that he hasn’t.”
“Well, Stavrogin has got something else worse than that in his head,” Pyotr Stepanovitch muttered peevishly, uneasily watching the turn the conversation had taken and the pallor of Kirillov. ”

“ 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.” ”

“ Why should we lose it?” said Pyotr Stepanovitch, lifting the lantern to his face. “But, you see, we all agreed yesterday that it was not really necessary to take it. He need only show you the exact spot where it’s buried; we can dig it up afterwards for ourselves. I know that it’s somewhere ten paces from a corner of this grotto. But, damn it all! how could you have forgotten, Liputin? ”