"I'm noble, noble, chivalrously noble!" Keller agreed with feeling. "But you know, Prince, it's all only in dreams and, so to speak, for bravado, and in reality nothing ever comes of it! Why is that? I can't understand it."

"Don't despair. Now it can be said affirmatively that you have told me all your inmost truths; at least it seems to me that it's now impossible to add anything more to what you've already said, isn't it?"

"Impossible?!" Keller exclaimed somehow ruefully. "Oh, Prince, you still have such a, so to speak, Swiss understanding of man."

"Could you possibly add to it?" the prince uttered in timid astonishment. "So what did you expect from me, Keller, tell me please, and why did you come with your confession?"

"From you? What did I expect? First, your simple-heartedness alone is pleasant to look at; it's pleasant to sit and talk with you; I know that I at least have a virtuous man before me, and second . . . second . . ."

He faltered.

"Perhaps you wanted to borrow some money?" the prince prompted him very seriously and simply, even as if somewhat timidly.

Keller jumped; he glanced quickly, with the same surprise, straight into the prince's eyes and banged his fist hard on the table.

"Well, see how you throw a man into a final flummox! For pity's sake, Prince: first such simple-heartedness, such innocence as even the golden age never heard of, then suddenly at the same time you pierce a man through like an arrow with this deepest psychology of observation. But excuse me, Prince, this calls for an explanation, because I . . . I'm simply confounded! Naturally, in the final end my aim was to borrow money, but you asked me about money as if you don't find anything reprehensible in it, as if that's how it should be?"

"Yes . . . from you that's how it should be."

"And you're not indignant?"

"But ... at what?"

"Listen, Prince, I stayed here last night, first, out of particular respect for the French archbishop Bourdaloue⁴⁵ (we kept the corks popping at Lebedev's till three in the morning), but second, and chiefly (I'll cross myself with all crosses that I'm telling the real truth!), I stayed because I wanted, so to speak, by imparting to you my full, heartfelt confession, to contribute thereby to my own development; with that thought I fell asleep past three, bathed in tears. Now, if you'll believe the noblest of persons: at the very moment that I was falling asleep, sincerely filled with internal and, so to speak, external tears (because in the end I did weep, I remember that!), an infernal thought came to me: 'And finally, after the confession, why don't I borrow some money from him?' Thus I prepared my confession, so to speak, as a sort of 'finesherbes with tears,' to soften my path with these tears, so that you'd get mellow and count me out a hundred and fifty roubles. Isn't that mean, in your opinion?"

"It's probably also not true, and the one simply coincided with the other. The two thoughts coincided, it happens very often. With me, constantly. I don't think it's nice, however, and, you know, Keller, I reproach myself most of all for it. It's as if you had told me about myself just now. I've even happened to think sometimes," the prince went on very seriously, being genuinely and deeply interested, "that all people are like that, so that I even began to approve of myself, because it's very hard to resist these double thoughts; I've experienced it. God knows how they come and get conceived. But here you've called it outright meanness! Now I'll begin to fear these thoughts again. In any case, I'm not your judge. But all the same, in my opinion, that can't be called outright meanness, don't you think? You used cunning in order to wheedle

money out of me by means of tears, but you swear yourself that your confession had another, noble purpose, not only money. As for the money, you need it to go carousing, right? After such a confession, that is, naturally, pusillanimous. But how, also, is one to give up carousing in a single moment? It's impossible. What then is to be done? Best of all is to leave it to your own conscience, don't you think?"

The prince looked at Keller with extreme curiosity. The question of double thoughts had evidently occupied him for a long time.

"Well, why they call you an idiot after that, I don't understand!" exclaimed Keller.

The prince blushed slightly.

"The preacher Bourdaloue wouldn't have spared a man, but you spared a man and reasoned about me in a human way! To punish myself and show that I'm touched, I don't want a hundred and fifty roubles, give me just twenty-five roubles, and enough! That's all I need for at least two weeks. I won't come for money before two weeks from now. I wanted to give Agashka a treat, but she doesn't deserve it. Oh, dear Prince, God bless you!"

Lebedev came in at last, having only just returned, and, noticing the twenty-five-rouble note in Keller's hand, he winced. But Keller, finding himself in possession of the money, hurried off and effaced himself immediately. Lebedev at once began talking him down.

"You're unfair, he was actually sincerely repentant," the prince observed at last.

"What good is his repentance! Exactly like me yesterday: 'mean, mean,' but it's all just words, sir!"

"So with you it was just words? And I thought . . ."

"Well, to you, to you alone I'll tell the truth, because you can see through a man: words, deeds, lies, truth—they're all there together in me and completely sincere. The truth and deeds in me are made up of sincere repentance, believe it or not, I'll swear to it, but the words and lies are made up of an infernal (and ever-present) notion, of somehow snaring a man here, too, of somehow profiting even from tears of repentance! By God, it's so! I wouldn't have told any other man—he'd laugh or spit; but you, Prince, you reason in a human way."

"There, now, that's exactly what he just said to me," cried the prince, "and it's as if you're both boasting! You even surprise me, only he's more sincere than you are, with you it's turned into a decided profession. Well, enough, don't wince, Lebedev, and don't

put your hands to your heart. Haven't you got something to tell me? You never come for nothing . . ."

Lebedev began grimacing and squirming.

"I've been waiting for you all day so as to ask you a single question; at least once in your life tell me the truth straight off: did you participate to any extent in that carriage yesterday or not?"

Lebedev again began grimacing, tittering, rubbing his hands, and finally went into a sneezing fit, but still could not bring himself to say anything.

"I see you did."

"But indirectly, only indirectly! It's the real truth I'm telling! I participated only by sending a timely message to a certain person, that such-and-such a company had gathered at my place and that certain persons were present."

"I know you sent your son there, he told me himself earlier, but what sort of intrigue is this!" the prince exclaimed in impatience.

"It's not my intrigue, not mine," Lebedev waved his hands, "others, others are in it, and it's sooner, so to speak, a fantasy than an intrigue."

"What is it about, explain to me, for Christ's sake? Don't you see that it concerns me directly? Evgeny Pavlych was blackened here."

"Prince! Illustrious Prince!" Lebedev squirmed again. "You don't let me speak the whole truth; I've already tried to tell you the truth; more than once; you wouldn't let me go on . . ."