I thought of that at the same time, at night, on my pillow . . . Do you think I meant to laugh at you earlier, Lizaveta Prokofyevna?
No, I wasn't laughing at you, I only meant to praise you . . . Kolya told me that the prince called you a child . . . that's good . . . So, what was I . . . there was something else I wanted . . ." He covered his face with his hands and fell to thinking.
"It was this: as you were taking your leave earlier, I suddenly thought: here are these people, and they'll never be there anymore, never!
And no trees either—there'll just be the brick wall, red brick, of Meyer's house . . . across from my window . . . well, go and tell them about all that . . . try telling them; here's a beautiful girl . . . but you're dead, introduce yourself as a dead man, tell her 'a dead man can say everything' . . . and that Princess Marya Alexeevna won't scold you,42 ha, ha! . . .
You're not laughing?" he looked around mistrustfully.
"And you know, a lot of thoughts occurred to me on that pillow . . . you know, I became convinced that nature is very much given to mockery . . . You said earlier that I was an atheist, but you know, this nature . . . Why are you laughing again?
You're terribly cruel!" he suddenly said with rueful indignation, looking them all over. "I haven't corrupted Kolya," he ended in a completely different tone, serious and assured, as if also suddenly remembering.
"Nobody, nobody here is laughing at you, calm down!" Lizaveta Prokofyevna was almost suffering. "Tomorrow a new doctor will come; the other one was wrong; and sit down, you can hardly stand on your feet!
You're delirious . . . Ah, what's to be done with him now!" she bustled about, sitting him in an armchair.
A small tear glistened on her cheek.
Ippolit stopped almost dumbstruck, raised his hand, reached out timidly, and touched that little tear.
He smiled a sort of childlike smile.
"I . . . you . . ." he began joyfully, "you don't know how I ... he always spoke of you with such rapture, him, Kolya ... I love his rapture.
I haven't corrupted him!
I have only him to leave ... I wanted to have them all, all of them—but there was no one, no one ... I wanted to be an activist, I had the right . . . Oh, there was so much I wanted!
Now I don't want anything, I don't want to want anything, I gave myself my word on it, that I would no longer want anything; let them, let them seek the truth without me!
Yes, nature is given to mockery!
Why does she," he suddenly continued ardently, "why does she create the best beings only so as to mock them afterwards?
Didn't she make it so that the single being on earth who has been acknowledged as perfect43 . . . didn't she make it so that, having shown him to people, she destined him to say things that have caused so much blood to be shed, that if it had been shed all at once, people would probably have drowned in it!
Oh, it's good that I'm dying!
I, too, might utter some terrible lie, nature would arrange it that way! ...
I haven't corrupted anybody ... I wanted to live for the happiness of all people, for the discovery and proclaiming of the truth! ... I looked through my window at Meyer's wall and thought I could talk for only a quarter of an hour and everybody, everybody would be convinced, and for once in my life I got together . . . with you, if not with the people! And what came of it?
Nothing!
It turned out that you despise me!
Therefore I'm not needed, therefore I'm a fool, therefore it's time to go!
Without managing to leave any memory!
Not a sound, not a trace, not a single deed, not spreading any conviction! . . .
Don't laugh at the stupid man!
Forget!
Forget everything . . . please forget, don't be so cruel!
Do you know, if this consumption hadn't turned up, I'd have killed myself. . ."
It seemed he wanted to say more, but he did not finish, dropped into his chair, covered his face with his hands, and wept like a little child.
"Well, what would you have me do with him now?" Lizaveta Prokofyevna exclaimed, jumped over to him, seized his head, and pressed it tightly to her bosom.
He was sobbing convulsively.
"There, there, there! Don't cry! There, there, enough, you're a good boy, God will forgive you in your ignorance; there, enough, be brave . . . And besides, you'll be ashamed . . ."
"At home," Ippolit said, trying to raise his head, "at home I have a brother and sisters, children, little, poor, innocent . . . She will corrupt them!
You—you're a saint, you're ... a child yourself— save them!
Tear them away from that . . . she . . . shame . . . Oh, help them, help them, God will reward you for it a hundredfold, for God's sake, for Christ's sake! . . ."
"Speak finally, Ivan Fyodorovich, what's to be done now!" Lizaveta Prokofyevna cried irritably. "Kindly break your majestic silence!
If you don't decide anything, be it known to you that I myself will stay and spend the night here; you've tyrannized me enough under your autocracy!"
Lizaveta Prokofyevna asked with enthusiasm and wrath, and expected an immediate answer.
But in such cases, those present, even if there are many of them, most often respond with silence, with passive curiosity, unwilling to take anything on themselves, and express their thoughts long afterwards.
Among those present this time there were some who were prepared to sit even till morning without saying a word, for instance, Varvara Ardalionovna, who sat a little apart all evening, silent and listening all the while with extreme curiosity, and who may have had her own reasons for doing so.
"My opinion, dear," the general spoke out, "is that what's needed here is, so to speak, sooner a sick-nurse than our agitation, and probably a reliable, sober person for the night.
In any case, we must ask the prince and . . . immediately give him rest.
And tomorrow we can concern ourselves again."
"It's now twelve o'clock, and we're leaving.
Does he come with us or stay with you?" Doktorenko addressed the prince irritably and angrily.
"If you want, you may also stay with him," said the prince, "there will be room enough."
"Your Excellency," Mr. Keller unexpectedly and rapturously jumped over to the general, "if there's need of a satisfactory person for the night, I'm prepared to make the sacrifice for a friend . . . he's such a soul!