Read Ebook: Uncle's Dream; and The Permanent Husband by Dostoyevsky Fyodor Whishaw Frederick Translator

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Ebook has 783 lines and 99566 words, and 16 pages

"Dear me, how very long he is coming out," said Maria Alexandrovna, impatiently rising from her chair; "it really is quite strange!"

"Strange! what, of uncle? Oh dear, no! he'll probably be another five hours or so putting himself together; besides, since he has no memory whatever, he has very likely quite forgotten that he has come to your house! Why, he's a most extraordinary man, Maria Alexandrovna."

"Oh don't, don't! Don't talk like that!"

"Why not, Maria Alexandrovna? He is a lump of composition, not a man at all! Remember, you haven't seen him for six years, and I saw him half an hour ago. He is half a corpse; he's only the memory of a man; they've forgotten to bury him! Why, his eye is made of glass, and his leg of cork, and he goes on wires; he even talks on wires!"

Maria Alexandrovna's face took a serious expression. "What nonsense you talk," she said; "and aren't you ashamed of yourself, you, a young man and a relation too--to talk like that of a most honourable old nobleman! not to mention his incomparable personal goodness and kindness" . "He is a relic, a chip, so to speak, of our old aristocracy. I know, my dear young friend, that all this flightiness on your part, proceeds from those 'new ideas' of which you are so fond of talking; but, goodness me, I've seen a good deal more of life than you have: I'm a mother; and though I see the greatness and nobleness, if you like, of these 'new ideas,' yet I can understand the practical side of things too! Now, this gentleman is an old man, and that is quite enough to render him ridiculous in your eyes. You, who talk of emancipating your serfs, and 'doing something for posterity,' indeed! I tell you what it is, it's your Shakespeare! You stuff yourself full of Shakespeare, who has long ago outlived his time, my dear Paul; and who, if he lived now, with all his wisdom, would never make head or tail of our way of life!"

"Maria Alexandrovna seems highly delighted that Mrs. Antipova, who thinks so much of herself, did not get hold of the prince!" remarked the widow; "Mrs. Antipova must be gnashing her teeth with annoyance just now! She's a relation, too, as I've been pointing out to Maria Alexandrovna."

Observing that no one answered her, and casting her eyes on Zina and Mosgliakoff, the widow suddenly recollected herself, and discreetly left the room, as though to fetch something. However, she rewarded herself for her discretion, by putting her ear to the keyhole, as soon as she had closed the door after her.

Pavel Alexandrovitch immediately turned to Zina. He was in a state of great agitation; his voice shook.

"Zenaida Afanassievna, are you angry with me?" he began, in a timid, beseechful tone.

"With you? Why?" asked Zina, blushing a little, and raising her magnificent eyes to his face.

"For coming earlier. I couldn't help it; I couldn't wait another fortnight; I dreamed of you every night; so I flew off to learn my fate. But you are frowning, you are angry;--oh; am I really not to hear anything definite, even now?"

Zina distinctly and decidedly frowned.

"Oh, but--but--what's the use of that? What hope am I to get out of that, Zina?" cried Mosgliakoff in piteous tones.

"Recollect what I have said, and draw whatever you please from the words; that's your business. I shall add nothing. I do not refuse you; I merely say--wait! And I repeat, I reserve the free right of rejecting you afterwards if I choose so to do. Just one more word: if you come here before the fixed time relying on outside protection, or even on my mother's influence to help you gain your end, let me tell you, you make a great mistake; if you worry me now, I shall refuse you outright. I hope we understand each other now, and that I shall hear no more of this, until the period I named to you for my decision." All this was said quietly and drily, and without a pause, as if learnt by rote. Paul felt foolish; but just at this moment Maria Alexandrovna entered the room, and the widow after her.

"I think he's just coming, Zina! Nastasia Petrovna, make some new tea quick, please!" The good lady was considerably agitated.

"Mrs. Antipova has sent her maid over to inquire about the prince already. How angry she must be feeling just now," remarked the widow, as she commenced to pass over the tea-urn.

At first sight you would not take this prince for an old man at all, and it is only when you come near and take a good look at him, that you see he is merely a dead man working on wires. All the resources of science are brought to bear upon this mummy, in order to give it the appearance of life and youth. A marvellous wig, glorious whiskers, moustache and napoleon--all of the most raven black--cover half his face. He is painted and powdered with very great skill, so much so that one can hardly detect any wrinkles. What has become of them, goodness only knows.

He was soaked with scent. His speech and manner of pronouncing certain syllables was full of affectation; and this was, perhaps, all that he retained of the mannerisms and tricks of his younger days. For if the prince had not quite lost his wits as yet, he had certainly parted with nearly every vestige of his memory, which--alas!--is a thing which no amount of perfumeries and wigs and rouge and tight-lacing will renovate. He continually forgets words in the midst of conversation, and loses his way, which makes it a matter of some difficulty to carry on a conversation with him. However, Maria Alexandrovna has confidence in her inborn dexterity, and at sight of the prince she flies into a condition of unspeakable rapture.

"Th--thanks, thanks; I'm very s--orry!" stammered the old man . "Very s--sorry; fancy, I--I wanted to co--come last year, but they t--told me there was cho--cho--cholera here."

"There was foot and mouth disease here, uncle," put in Mosgliakoff, by way of distinguishing himself. Maria Alexandrovna gave him a severe look.

"Ye--yes, foot and mouth disease, or something of that s--sort," said the prince; "so I st--stayed at home. Well, and how's your h--husband, my dear Anna Nic--Nicolaevna? Still at his proc--procuror's work?"

"No, prince!" said Maria Alexandrovna, a little disconcerted. "My husband is not a procurer."

"I'll bet anything that uncle has mixed you up with Anna Nicolaevna Antipova," said Mosgliakoff, but stopped suddenly on observing the look on Maria Alexandrovna's face.

"Ye--yes, of course, Anna Nicolaevna. A--An. What the deuce! I'm always f--forgetting; Antipova, Antipova, of course," continued the prince.

"No, prince, you have made a great mistake," remarked Maria Alexandrovna, with a bitter smile. "I am not Anna Nicolaevna at all, and I confess I should never have believed that you would not recognise me. You have astonished me, prince. I am your old friend, Maria Alexandrovna Moskaloff. Don't you remember Maria Alexandrovna?"

"Ye--es! ye--yes! best friend; best friend, for--forgive me!" stammered the old man, staring at Zina.

"Tea! prince," remarked Maria Alexandrovna, directing his attention to the page standing before him with the tray. The prince took a cup, and examined the boy, who had a nice fresh face of his own.

"Ah! this is your l--little boy? Wh--what a charming little b--boy! and does he be--behave nicely?"

"Upset, upset; the c--coachman upset me!" cried the prince, with unwonted vivacity. "I thought it was the end of the world, and I was fri--frightened out of my wits. I didn't expect it; I didn't, indeed! and my co--oachman is to blame for it all. I trust you, my friend, to lo--ok into the matter well. I feel sure he was making an attempt on my life!"

"All right, all right, uncle," said Paul; "I'll see about it. But look here--forgive him, just this once, uncle; just this once, won't you?"

"N--not I! Not for anything! I'm sure he wants my life, he and Lavrenty too. It's--it's the 'new ideas;' it's Com--Communism, in the fullest sense of the word. I daren't meet them anywhere."

"Ye--yes! quite so!" said the prince, delighted--as all old men are whose senile chatter is listened to with servility. "But I like a fl--flunky to look stupid; it gives them presence. There's my Terenty, now. You remember Terenty, my friend? Well, the f--first time I ever looked at him I said, 'You shall be my ha--hall porter.' He's stupid, phen--phen--omenally stupid, he looks like a she--sheep; but his dig--dignity and majesty are wonderful. When I look at him he seems to be composing some l--learned dis--sertation. He's just like the German philosopher, Kant, or like some fa--fat old turkey, and that's just what one wants in a serving-man."

Maria Alexandrovna laughed, and clapped her hands in the highest state of ecstasy; Paul supported her with all his might; Nastasia Petrovna laughed too; and even Zina smiled.

"Ye--yes! ye--yes!" said the delighted prince. "I can reproduce things I see, very well. And, do you know, I used to be a very wi--witty fellow indeed, some time ago. I even wrote a play once. There were some very smart couplets, I remember; but it was never acted."

"Certainly, certainly. I--I would even write you another. I think I've quite forgotten the old one. I remember there were two or three such epigrams that I recollect when I was abroad I made a real furore. I remember Lord Byron well; we were great friends; you should have seen him dance the mazurka one day during the Vienna Congress."

"Lord Byron, uncle?--Surely not!"

"Ye--yes, Lord Byron. Perhaps it was not Lord Byron, though, perhaps it was someone else; no, it wasn't Lord Byron, it was some Pole; I remember now. A won--der-ful fellow that Pole was! He said he was a C--Count, and he turned out to be a c--cook--shop man! But he danced the mazurka won--der--fully, and broke his leg at last. I recollect I wrote some lines at the time:--

"Our little Pole Danced like blazes."

--How did it go on, now? Wait a minute! No, I can't remember."

"I'll tell you, uncle. It must have been like this," said Paul, becoming more and more inspired:--

"But he tripped in a hole, Which stopped his crazes."

"Ye--yes, that was it, I think, or something very like it. I don't know, though--perhaps it wasn't. Anyhow, the lines were very sm--art. I forget a good deal of what I have seen and done. I'm so b--busy now!"

"But do let me hear how you have employed your time in your solitude, dear prince," said Maria Alexandrovna. "I must confess that I have thought of you so often, and often, that I am burning with impatience to hear more about you and your doings."

"Employed my time? Oh, very busy; very busy, ge--generally. One rests, you see, part of the day; and then I imagine a good many things."

"I should think you have a very strong imagination, haven't you, uncle?" remarked Paul.

"Exceptionally so, my dear fellow. I sometimes imagine things which amaze even myself! When I was at Kadueff,--by-the-by, you were vice-governor of Kadueff, weren't you?"

"I, uncle! Why, what are you thinking of?"

"No? Just fancy, my dear fellow! and I've been thinking all this time how f--funny that the vice-governor of Kadueff should be here with quite a different face: he had a fine intelligent, dig--dignified face, you know. A wo--wonderful fellow! Always writing verses, too; he was rather like the Ki--King of Diamonds from the side view, but--"

"No, prince," interrupted Maria Alexandrovna. "I assure you, you'll ruin yourself with the life you are leading! To make a hermit of oneself for five years, and see no one, and hear no one: you're a lost man, dear prince! Ask any one of those who love you, they'll all tell you the same; you're a lost man!"

"No," cried the prince, "really?"

"Yes, I assure you of it! I am speaking to you as a sister--as a friend! I am telling you this because you are very dear to me, and because the memory of the past is sacred to me. No, no! You must change your way of living; otherwise you will fall ill, and break up, and die!"

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