pure and high-souled knight. Of course it’s all an ideal, and inthe ‘poor knight’ that spirit reached the utmost limit of asceticism. Heis a Don Quixote, only serious and not comical. I used not to understandhim, and laughed at him, but now I love the ‘poor knight,’ and respecthis actions.”
So ended Aglaya; and, to look at her, it was difficult, indeed, to judgewhether she was joking or in earnest.
“Pooh! he was a fool, and his actions were the actions of a fool,” saidMrs. Epanchin; “and as for you, young woman, you ought to know better.At all events, you are not to talk like that again. What poem is it?Recite it! I want to hear this poem! I have hated poetry all my life.Prince, you must excuse this nonsense. We neither of us like this sortof thing! Be patient!”
They certainly were put out, both of them.
The prince tried to say something, but he was too confused, and couldnot get his words out. Aglaya, who had taken such liberties in herlittle speech, was the only person present, perhaps, who was not in theleast embarrassed. She seemed, in fact, quite pleased.
She now rose solemnly from her seat, walked to the centre of theterrace, and stood in front of the prince’s chair. All looked on withsome surprise, and Prince S. and her sisters with feelings of decidedalarm, to see what new frolic she was up to; it had gone quite farenough already, they thought. But Aglaya evidently thoroughly enjoyedthe affectation and ceremony with which she was introducing herrecitation of the poem.
Mrs. Epanchin was just wondering whether she would not forbid theperformance after all, when, at the very moment that Aglaya commencedher declamation, two new guests, both talking loudly, entered from thestreet. The new arrivals were General Epanchin and a young man.
Their entrance caused some slight commotion.
VII.
The young fellow accompanying the general was about twenty-eight, tall,and well built, with a handsome and clever face, and bright black eyes,full of fun and intelligence.
Aglaya did not so much as glance at the new arrivals, but went on withher recitation, gazing at the prince the while in an affected manner,and at him alone. It was clear to him that she was doing all this withsome special object.
But the new guests at least somewhat eased his strained anduncomfortable position. Seeing them approaching, he rose from his chair,and nodding amicably to the general, signed to him not to interrupt therecitation. He then got behind his chair, and stood there with his lefthand resting on the back of it. Thanks to this change of position,he was able to listen to the ballad with far less embarrassment thanbefore. Mrs. Epanchin had also twice motioned to the new arrivals to bequiet, and stay where they were.
The prince was much interested in the young man who had just entered. Heeasily concluded that this was Evgenie Pavlovitch Radomski, of whom hehad already heard mention several times. He was puzzled, however, by theyoung man’s plain clothes, for he had always heard of Evgenie Pavlovitchas a military man. An ironical smile played on Evgenie’s lips all thewhile the recitation was proceeding, which showed that he, too, wasprobably in the secret of the ‘poor knight’ joke. But it had becomequite a different matter with Aglaya. All the affectation of mannerwhich she had displayed at the beginning disappeared as the balladproceeded. She spoke the lines in so serious and exalted a manner, andwith so much taste, that she even seemed to justify the exaggeratedsolemnity with which she had stepped forward. It was impossible todiscern in her now anything but a deep feeling for the spirit of thepoem which she had undertaken to interpret.
Her eyes were aglow with inspiration, and a slight tremor of rapturepassed over her lovely features once or twice. She continued to recite:
“Once there came a vision glorious, Mystic, dreadful, wondrous fair; Burned itself into his spirit, And abode for ever there!
“Never more--from that sweet moment-- Gazéd he on womankind; He was dumb to love and wooing And to all their graces blind.
“Full of love for that sweet vision, Brave and pure he took the field; With his blood he stained the letters N. P. B. upon his shield.
“‘Lumen caeli, sancta Rosa!’ Shouting on the foe he fell, And like thunder rang his war-cry O’er the cowering infidel.
“Then within his distant castle, Home returned, he dreamed his days-- Silent, sad,--and when death took him He was mad, the legend says.”
When recalling all this afterwards the prince could not for the life ofhim understand how to reconcile the beautiful, sincere, pure nature ofthe girl with the irony of this jest. That it was a jest there was nodoubt whatever; he knew that well enough, and had good reason, too,for his conviction; for during her recitation of the ballad Aglaya haddeliberately changed the letters A. N. B. into N. P. B. He was quitesure she had not done this by accident, and that his ears had notdeceived him. At all events her performance--which was a joke, ofcourse, if rather a crude one,--was premeditated. They had evidentlytalked (and laughed) over the ‘poor knight’ for more than a month.
Yet Aglaya had brought out these letters N. P. B. not only without theslightest appearance of irony, or even any particular accentuation, butwith so even and unbroken an appearance of seriousness that assuredlyanyone might have supposed that these initials were the original oneswritten in the ballad. The thing made an uncomfortable impression uponthe prince. Of course Mrs. Epanchin saw nothing either in the change ofinitials or in the insinuation embodied therein. General Epanchin onlyknew that there was a recitation of verses going on, and took no furtherinterest in the matter. Of the rest of the audience, many had understoodthe allusion and wondered both at the daring of the lady and at themotive underlying it, but tried to show no sign of their feelings. ButEvgenie Pavlovitch (as the prince was ready to wager) both comprehendedand tried his best to show that he comprehended; his smile was toomocking to leave any doubt on that point.
“How beautiful that is!” cried Mrs. Epanchin, with sincere admiration.“Whose is it?”
“Pushkin’s, mama, of course! Don’t disgrace us all by showing yourignorance,” said Adelaida.
“As soon as we reach home give it to me to read.”
“I don’t think we have a copy of Pushkin in the house.”
“There are a couple of torn volumes somewhere; they have been lyingabout from time immemorial,” added Alexandra.
“Send Feodor or Alexey up by the very first train to buy a copy,then.--Aglaya, come here--kiss me, dear, you recited beautifully! but,” she added in a whisper, “if you were sincere I am sorry for you. If itwas a joke, I do not approve of the feelings which prompted you to doit, and in any case you would have done far better not to recite it atall. Do you understand?--Now come along, young woman; we’ve sat here toolong. I’ll speak to you about this another time.”
Meanwhile the prince took the opportunity of greeting General Epanchin,and the general introduced Evgenie Pavlovitch to him.
“I caught him up on the way to your house,” explained the general. “Hehad heard that we were all here.”
“Yes, and I heard that you were here, too,” added Evgenie Pavlovitch;“and since I had long promised myself the pleasure of seeking not onlyyour acquaintance but your friendship, I did not wish to waste time, butcame straight on. I am sorry to hear that you are unwell.”
“Oh, but I’m quite well now, thank you, and very glad to make youracquaintance. Prince S. has often spoken to me about you,” saidMuishkin, and for an instant the two men looked intently into oneanother’s eyes.
The prince remarked that Evgenie Pavlovitch’s plain clothes hadevidently made a great impression upon the company present, so much sothat all other interests seemed to be effaced before this surprisingfact.
His change of dress was evidently a matter of some importance. Adelaidaand Alexandra poured out a stream of questions; Prince S., a relativeof the young man, appeared annoyed; and Ivan Fedorovitch quite excited.Aglaya alone was not interested. She merely looked closely at Evgeniefor a minute, curious perhaps as to whether civil or military clothesbecame him best, then
turned away and paid no more attention to him orhis costume. Lizabetha Prokofievna asked no questions, but it was clearthat she was uneasy, and the prince fancied that Evgenie was not in hergood graces.
“He has astonished me,” said Ivan Fedorovitch. “I nearly fell down withsurprise. I could hardly believe my eyes when I met him in Petersburgjust now. Why this haste? That’s what I want to know. He has always saidhimself that there is no need to break windows.”
Evgenie Pavlovitch remarked here that he had spoken of his intention ofleaving the service long ago. He had, however, always made more or lessof a joke about it, so no one had taken him seriously. For that matterhe joked about everything, and his friends never knew what to believe,especially if he did not wish them to understand him.
“I have only retired for a time,” said he, laughing. “For a few months;at most for a year.”
“But there is no necessity for you to retire at all,” complained thegeneral, “as far as I know.”
“I want to go and look after my country estates. You advised me to dothat yourself,” was the reply. “And