Название: The Idiot
Автор: Fyodor Dostoyevsky
Издательство: Bookwire
Жанр: Языкознание
isbn: 4057664170651
isbn:
“Meek! What do you mean?”
“You told her it was a shame for her to behave so, and her manner changed at once; she was like another person. You have some influence over her, prince,” added Varia, smiling a little.
The door opened at this point, and in came Gania most unexpectedly.
He was not in the least disconcerted to see Varia there, but he stood a moment at the door, and then approached the prince quietly.
“Prince,” he said, with feeling, “I was a blackguard. Forgive me!” His face gave evidence of suffering. The prince was considerably amazed, and did not reply at once. “Oh, come, forgive me, forgive me!” Gania insisted, rather impatiently. “If you like, I’ll kiss your hand. There!”
The prince was touched; he took Gania’s hands, and embraced him heartily, while each kissed the other.
“I never, never thought you were like that,” said Muishkin, drawing a deep breath. “I thought you—you weren’t capable of—”
“Of what? Apologizing, eh? And where on earth did I get the idea that you were an idiot? You always observe what other people pass by unnoticed; one could talk sense to you, but—”
“Here is another to whom you should apologize,” said the prince, pointing to Varia.
“No, no! they are all enemies! I’ve tried them often enough, believe me,” and Gania turned his back on Varia with these words.
“But if I beg you to make it up?” said Varia.
“And you’ll go to Nastasia Philipovna’s this evening—”
“If you insist: but, judge for yourself, can I go, ought I to go?”
“But she is not that sort of woman, I tell you!” said Gania, angrily. “She was only acting.”
“I know that—I know that; but what a part to play! And think what she must take you for, Gania! I know she kissed mother’s hand, and all that, but she laughed at you, all the same. All this is not good enough for seventy-five thousand roubles, my dear boy. You are capable of honourable feelings still, and that’s why I am talking to you so. Oh! do take care what you are doing! Don’t you know yourself that it will end badly, Gania?”
So saying, and in a state of violent agitation, Varia left the room.
“There, they are all like that,” said Gania, laughing, “just as if I do not know all about it much better than they do.”
He sat down with these words, evidently intending to prolong his visit.
“If you know it so well,” said the prince a little timidly, “why do you choose all this worry for the sake of the seventy-five thousand, which, you confess, does not cover it?”
“I didn’t mean that,” said Gania; “but while we are upon the subject, let me hear your opinion. Is all this worry worth seventy-five thousand or not?”
“Certainly not.”
“Of course! And it would be a disgrace to marry so, eh?”
“A great disgrace.”
“Oh, well, then you may know that I shall certainly do it, now. I shall certainly marry her. I was not quite sure of myself before, but now I am. Don’t say a word: I know what you want to tell me—”
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