Selected Works of Fyodor Dostoyevsky — The Idiot (Book Two of a Two Books Novel)

599.006,499.00

FREE SHIPMENT FOR ORDER ABOVE Rs.149/- FREE BY REGD. BOOK POST

Language: English
Pages: 352
Book Dimension: 5.5″ x 8.5″

Amazon : Buy Link

Flipkart : Buy Link

Kindle : Buy Link

NotNul : Buy Link

The Idiot
(Book Two of a Two Books Novel)

Translated by
Julius Katzer

Series Editor
Roli Jain

….. Lebedev, Keller, Ganya, Ptitsyn and many others in our story continue to live much as previously and have changed but little, so that there is little we can say about them. Ippolit died in a state of dreadful agitation and somewhat sooner than he had expected to, about a fortnight after Nastasia Philippovna’s death. Kolya has been deeply affected by all the happenings in our story and has drawn very close to his mother. Nina Alexandrovna feels anxious about him, for he is thoughtful beyond his years. He has the makings of a fine man. Incidentally, he was partly responsible for the arrangements made for the prince’s future. Kolya had long singled out Yevgeni Pavlovich Radomsky from among all those he had recently met. He was the first to approach the latter and inform him in detail of everything he knew of what had happened and of the prince’s present condition. He was not mistaken: Yevgeni Pavlovich took the warmest interest in the fate of the unfortunate “idiot” and, thanks to his efforts and concern, the prince was taken back to Dr. Schneider’s institution in Switzerland. Yevgeni Pavlovich, who has gone abroad and intends to spend a long time in Europe because he frankly confesses to being “quite superfluous in Russia”, visits his sick friend at Schneider’s fairly frequently, at least once every few months. But Schneider frowns more and more and shakes his head; he hints at a complete derangement of the prince’s brain; he does not yet positively say that his patient is incurable, but permits himself the most melancholy hints. Yevgeni Pavlovich takes this very much to heart. He has a heart, which he has proved by his getting letters from Kolya and even answering them sometimes.

Moreover, another unusual trait in him has come to light, and since this is a kindly trait, we hasten to reveal it. After every visit to Dr. Schneider’s establishment, Yevgeni Pavlovich, besides writing to Kolya, sends off a letter to another person in St. Petersburg, containing a most detailed and sympathetic account of the state of the prince’s malady. Apart from the most respectful expression of esteem these letters sometimes (and ever more frequently of late) contain certain frank statements of views, ideas and sentiments–in short, something resembling a feeling of warm friendship. The correspondent (though not so frequent), who has won so much attention and respect from him, is Vera Lebedev. We have not been able to establish with any degree of certainty how such a relationship could have come into being; it must have arisen, of course, during the happenings with the prince, which so distressed Vera Lebedev that she even fell ill. However, we do not know exactly in what manner this acquaintance and friendship arose.

We have mentioned these letters more for the reason that some of them have contained news of the Yepanchin family, and especially of Aglaia Ivanovna Yepanchin. Of her Yevgeni Pavlovich wrote, in a somewhat incoherent letter from Paris, that after a short and extraordinary attachment to a Polish count, an émigré, she suddenly married him, against her parents’ wishes. If they had ultimately given their consent, it had been only because of the threat of a terrific scandal. Then, after a silence of almost six months, Yevgeni Pavlovich informed his correspondent, in a long and detailed letter, that, during his latest visit to Professor Schneider in Switzerland, he had met all the Yepanchins there (except, of course, Ivan Fyodorovich, who had remained in St. Petersburg on business) and Prince S. It was a strange encounter. They all greeted him with effusive delight. For some reason, Adelaida and Alexandra considered themselves even obliged to him for his “angelic concern for the unfortunate prince”. Lizaveta Prokofievna broke down when she saw the prince in his affliction. Everything had apparently been forgiven him. Prince S. voiced a number of felicitous and clever truths. Yevgeni Pavlovich gained the impression that he and Adelaida had not yet achieved complete harmony, but that the future would inevitably see the impulsive Adelaida place herself, voluntarily and from the heart, under the guidance of Prince S.’s good sense and experience. Besides, the recent trials undergone by the family had had a painful impact on her, especially Aglaia’s recent experience with the émigré count. Everything the family had dreaded from her marriage to the Polish count came true within six months, with the addition of surprises they had never even imagined. It appeared that the count was not even a count, and if he was an exile it was the result of some dark and dubious business. He had captivated Aglaia by the extraordinary loftiness of his noble heart, which was torn with anguish for his homeland; she had been so fascinated that even before she married him she joined a committee abroad for the restoration of Poland, and had, moreover, taken to attending the confessional of a celebrated Catholic priest, who had gained an absolute ascendancy over her mind to the extent of making a fanatic of her. The count’s vast fortune, of which he had provided Lizaveta Prokofievna and Prince S. with almost irrefutable evidence, proved quite non-existent. Moreover, within six months of the marriage, the count and his friend, the renowned confessor, had managed to embroil Aglaia completely with her family, so that they had not seen her for several months– In short, there was so much they could tell him, but Lizaveta Prokofievna, her daughters, and even Prince S. had become so deeply distressed by all that “reign of terror” that they were even afraid to allude to certain things in their conversation with Yevgeni Pavlovich, though they were aware that he knew very well of the story of Aglaia Ivanovna’s latest infatuations. Poor Lizaveta Prokofievna was most anxious to get home to Russia and, according to Yevgeni Pavlovich, she was acrimonious and prejudiced in her criticism of everything she saw abroad.

“They can’t bake bread properly anywhere, and in winter they freeze like mice in a cellar,” she said. “Here, at least, I can have a good Russian cry over this poor fellow,” she added, pointing in distress to the prince, who had not even recognised her. “Enough of all these whims. It’s time to listen to reason. These foreign lands, this Europe of yours, are a play of fancy, and so are we, when we’re abroad– Take my word for it. You’ll see for yourself!” she concluded almost wrathfully, as she took leave of Yevgeni Pavlovich. …

SKU: N/A

Description

About The Book

After some reflection, the prince replied, with an air of absolute conviction, although in a low voice and even, it seemed, with some timidity:

“I merely wished to say that such perversion of ideas and convictions (to quote Yevgeni Pavlovich) is to be seen very often and, unfortunately, is far more the general rule than an individual instance, so much so that, if such perversion were not so common, then perhaps there might not be such dreadful crimes as these–”

“Dreadful crimes? I can assure you that crimes such as these and even more dreadful, were committed in the past, and have always existed, not only in our country but everywhere. In my view, they will reoccur for a long time to come. The only difference is that there used to be far less publicity, while nowadays people have begun to speak and even write freely about them, which is why it seems as though such criminals have only just appeared. That is where your mistake lies–a most naive mistake, Prince, I assure you,” Prince S. remarked with a derisive smile.

“I’m perfectly aware that there were many crimes in the past, which were just as dreadful. I visited some prisons not so long ago, and was able to meet a number of criminals and accused persons. There are criminals even far more horrible than the one you have mentioned, criminals who have committed a dozen murders without feeling the least remorse. But I’ll tell you what I noticed there: even the most hardened and impenitent murderer knows that he is a criminal, that is to say, realises in all conscience that he has behaved evilly, though he feels no remorse at all. And they’re all like that. However, those that Yevgeni Pavlovich has spoken of do not even wish to consider themselves criminals, and think they had the right to act as they did, and even acted properly–it practically boils down to that. It is in this, as I see it, that the dreadful difference lies. And mark you, all these are young people, that is to say, they are at an age when they can most easily and defencelessly fall prey to a perversion of ideas.’

Prince S. was no longer laughing but listening to the prince in some bewilderment. Alexandra Ivanovna, who had long been eager to put in a word, remained silent as though held back by a compelling thought.

Yevgeni Pavlovich was gazing at the prince with the utmost surprise, and this time without the least hint of mockery.

“Why are you so greatly surprised at him, my good sir?” Lizaveta Prokofievna unexpectedly put in.

“D’you consider him more stupid than you are and incapable of reasoning just as well as you can?”

“N-no, it isn’t that,” said Yevgeni Pavlovich, “only, how was it, Prince (you will excuse my asking), that if you see and note things so clearly, how was it (you will again excuse me) that you failed to discern the selfsame perversion of ideas and moral convictions in that strange instance the other day–the one involving–Burdovsky, I think his name was? It was practically an identical instance. My impression at the time was that you did not notice it at all.”

“Let me tell you, sir,” said Lizaveta Prokofievna with some warmth. “We noticed everything and sat here telling him how clever we are. And now he’s received, this very day, a letter from one of them–their ringleader, the pimply fellow–you remember, don’t you, Alexandra? In this letter he begs forgiveness of the prince, though in his own fashion, and says he has parted company with the friend who was egging him on at the time, d’you remember, Alexandra? He now has more trust in the prince. There! We’ve never received any letter like that, though we don’t have to be taught how to look down our noses at the prince.”

“Ippolit, too, has just come to stay at our villa!” Kolya exclaimed.

“What, is he there already?” asked the prince anxiously.

“Yes, he arrived just after you and Lizaveta Prokofievna had left. I brought him over!”

“Well, I’m prepared to wager,” cried Lizaveta Prokofievna, flaring up, and quite forgetting she had just been taking sides with the prince. “I’m willing to wager that he visited that spiteful wretch’s garret yesterday to beg him on bended knees to do him the honour of coming to stay with him. You did go there yesterday, didn’t you? You admitted that yesterday. Now then, did you or didn’t you? Did you go down on your knees, or didn’t you?”

“He did nothing of the kind,” cried Kolya. “On the contrary, Ippolit caught hold of the prince’s hand and kissed it twice. I saw it with my own eyes, and that was how their talk ended, except that the prince told Ippolit quite simply that he would feel better in the country, and he at once agreed to come here as soon as he felt somewhat better.”

“You shouldn’t have said that, Kolya–” murmured the prince, rising and seizing his hat.

“Where are you off to, Prince?” said Lizaveta Prokofievna, stopping him.

“You shouldn’t trouble yourself, Prince,” the excited Kolya went on. “I don’t think you should go and disturb him. He’s asleep after his journey. He’s happy to be here and I think it would be far better for you not to see him today. Better wait till tomorrow, or else he’ll be embarrassed again. He said this morning that he hadn’t felt so well and refreshed for the last six months. He’s even coughing less.”

The prince noticed that Aglaia had suddenly left her corner and had approached the table. He dared not look at her, but sensed with all his being that at that instant she was gazing at him, perhaps in anger, and that she had flushed up, with an expression of what was probably indignation in her eyes.

Additional information

Weight N/A
Dimensions N/A
Product Options / Binding Type

,

Related Products