It was positively appropriate to show sympathy.
“Calm yourself, don’t distress yourself, Natalya Nikolaevna,” Prince Valkovsky encouraged her. “This is frenzy, imagination, the fruits of solitude. You have been so exasperated by his thoughtless behaviour. It is only thoughtlessness on his part, you know.
The most important fact on which you lay so much stress, what happened on Tuesday, ought rather to prove to you the depth of his love for you, while you have been imagining on the contrary ...”
“Oh, don’t speak to me, don’t torture me even now!” cried Natasha, weeping bitterly. “My heart has told me everything, has told me long ago!
Do you suppose I don’t understand that our old love is over here in this room, alone . . . when he left me, forgot me I have been through everything, thought over everything What else have I to do?
I don’t blame you, Alyosha. . . . Why are you deceiving me?
Do you suppose I haven’t tried to deceive myself?
Oh how often, how often!
Haven’t I listened to every tone of his voice?
Haven’t I learnt to read his face, his eyes?
It’s all, all over. It’s all buried.... Oh! how wretched I am!”
Alyosha was crying on his knees before her.
“Yes, yes, it’s my fault!
It’s all my doing!” he repeated through his sobs.
“No, don’t blame yourself, Alyosha. It’s other people our enemies....
It’s their doing ... theirs!”
“But excuse me,” the prince began at last with some impatience, “what grounds have you for ascribing to me all these . . . crimes?
These are all your conjectures. There’s no proof of them...”
“No proof!” cried Natasha, rising swiftly from her easy chair. “You want proof, treacherous man.
You could have had no other motive, no other motive when you came here with your project!
You had to soothe your son, to appease his consciencepricks that he might give himself up to Katya with a freer and easier mind. Without that he would always have remembered me, he would have held out against you, and you have got tired of waiting.
Isn’t that true?”
“I confess,” said the prince, with a sarcastic smile, “if I had wanted to deceive you that would certainly have been my calculation. You are very . . . quickwitted, but you ought to have proofs before you insult people with such reproaches.”
“Proofs!
But all your behaviour in the past when you were trying to get him away from me.
A man who trains his son to disregard such obligations, and to play with them for the sake of worldly advantage, for the sake of money, is corrupting him!
What was it you said just now about the staircase and the poorness of my lodging?
Didn’t you stop the allowance you used to give him, to force us to part through poverty and hunger?
This lodging and the staircase are your fault, and now you reproach him with it doublefaced man!
And what was it roused in you that night such warmth, such new and uncharacteristic convictions?
And why was I so necessary to you?
I’ve been walking up and down here for these four days; I’ve thought over everything, I have weighed every word you uttered, every expression of your face, and I’m certain that it has all been a pretence, a sham, a mean, insulting and unworthy farce. . . . I know you, I’ve known you for a long time.
Whenever Alyosha came from seeing you I could read from his face all that you had been saying to him, all that you had been impressing on him.
No, you can’t deceive me!
Perhaps you have some other calculations now; perhaps I haven’t said the worst yet; but no matter!
You have deceived me – that’s the chief thing.
I had to tell you that straight to your face!”
“Is that all?
Is that all the proof you have?
But think, you frantic woman: by that farce, as you call my proposal on Tuesday, I bound myself too much, it would be too irresponsible on my part ...
“How, how did you bind yourself!
What does it mean for you to deceive me?
And what does it signify to insult a girl in my position?
A wretched runaway, cast off by her father, defenceless, who has disgraced herself, immoral!
Is there any need to be squeamish with her if this joke can be of the very smallest use!”
“Only think what a position you are putting yourself into, Natalya Nikolaevna.
You insist that you have been insulted by me.
But such an insult is so great, so humiliating, that I can’t understand how you can even imagine it, much less insist on it.
What must you be accustomed to, to be able to suppose this so easily, if you will excuse my saying so.
I have the right to reproach you, because you are setting my son against me. If he does not attack me now on your account his heart is against me.