Demons

"I directly refused to print it."

"Yes, but not directly. You wrote: 'Am unable,' but did not explain for what reason. 'Unable' doesn't mean 'unwilling.' It could be supposed that you were unable simply for material reasons. In fact, they took it that way, and supposed that you still agreed to continue your co

"And you've preserved this letter so carefully?"

"That I've preserved it is nothing; I have it even now."

"Who the devil cares! ..." Shatov cried out furiously. "Let your fools think I denounced them, it's not my business! I'd like to see what you can do to me."

"You'd be marked out and hanged at the first success of the revolution."

"That's when you seize supreme power and subjugate Russia?"

"Don't laugh. I repeat, I stood up for you. One way or another, I'd still advise you to come today. Why waste words because of some false pride? Isn't it better to part amicably? Because you'll have to hand over the press and the type and the old papers in any case, so we can talk about that."

"I'll come," Shatov growled, hanging his head in thought. Pyotr Stepanovich studied him out of the corner of his eye from where he sat.

"Will Stavrogin be there?" Shatov suddenly asked, raising his head.

"Quite certainly."

"Heh, heh!"

Again they were silent for about a minute. Shatov was gri

"And that vile 'Shining Light' of yours, which I didn't want to print here, did it get printed?"

"It did."

"To persuade schoolboys that Herzen himself wrote it into your album?"

"Herzen himself."

Again they were silent for about three minutes. Shatov finally rosefrom the bed.

"Get out of here from me, I don't want to sit with you."

"I'm going," Pyotr Stepanovich said, even somehow gaily, rising at once. "Only one word: it seems Kirillov is all by himself in the wing now, without any maid?"

"All by himself. Get out, I can't stay in the same room with you."

"Well, aren't you in a fine state now!" Pyotr Stepanovich reflected gaily as he was going out, "and so you will be in the evening, and that's precisely how I want you now, I could wish for nothing better, nothing better! The Russian God himself is helping out!"

VII

He probably bustled about a good deal that day on various little errands—and it must have been with success—which reflected itself in the smug expression of his physiognomy when in the evening, at six o'clock sharp, he appeared at Nikolai Vsevolodovich's. But he was not shown in to him at once; Mavriky Nikolaevich had just shut himself up with Nikolai Vsevolodovich in the study. This news instantly worried him. He sat down right by the door of the study to wait until the visitor came out. The conversation could be heard, but he was unable to catch the words. The visit did not last long; soon there was noise, an unexpectedly loud and sharp voice was heard, then the door opened and out came Mavriky Nikolaevich with a completely pale face. He did not notice Pyotr Stepanovich and quickly walked past. Pyotr Stepanovich at once ran into the study.

I ca

It happened like this. Nikolai Vsevolodovich was dozing after di

"If you can, then marry Lizaveta Nikolaevna," Mavriky Nikolaevich suddenly offered, and, what was most curious, it was quite impossible to tell by the tone of his voice whether it was a request, a recommendation, a concession, or an order.

Nikolai Vsevolodovich continued to be silent; but the visitor had evidently said all he had come for, and was staring at him point-blank, awaiting an answer.

"Unless I'm mistaken (though it's all too true), Lizaveta Nikolaevna is already engaged to you," Stavrogin said at last.

"Betrothed and engaged," Mavriky Nikolaevich firmly and clearly confirmed.

"You've... quarreled?... Excuse me, Mavriky Nikolaevich."

"No, she 'loves and respects' me—the words are hers. Her words are more precious than anything."

"There's no doubt of that."

"But you should know that if she were standing right at the altar, and you were to call her, she would drop me and everyone and go to you."

"From the altar?"

"And after the altar."

"You're not mistaken?"

"No. From behind her ceaseless, genuine, and most complete hatred for you, love flashes every moment, and... madness... the most genuine and boundless love and—madness! On the contrary, from behind the love she feels for me, also genuinely, hatred flashes every moment—the greatest hatred! I could never have imagined all these... metamorphoses... before."

"But still it surprises me, how could you come and dispose of Lizaveta Nikolaevna's hand? Do you have the right to do that? Or did she authorize you?"

Mavriky Nikolaevich frowned and cast down his head for a moment.

"These are only just words on your part," he said suddenly, "vengeful and triumphant words: I'm sure you understand what's been left unspoken between the lines, and is there any place here for petty vanity? Aren't you satisfied enough? Is there really any need to smear it around, to dot all the i's? As you wish, I will dot them, if you need my humiliation so much: I have no right, no authorization is possible; Lizaveta Nikolaevna doesn't know about anything, and her fiancé has lost his last wits and is fit for the madhouse, and to crown it all he comes himself to report it to you. You alone in the whole world can make her happy, and I alone—unhappy. You contend for her, you pursue her, but, I don't know why, you will not marry her. If it's some lovers' quarrel that happened abroad, and I must be sacrificed to end it—sacrifice me. She is too unhappy, and I ca