Page 139 - the-idiot

scious pride.
This next arrival was a tall red-faced man of about fifty-
five, with greyish hair and whiskers, and large eyes which
stood out of their sockets. His appearance would have been
distinguished had it not been that he gave the idea of being
rather dirty. He was dressed in an old coat, and he smelled
of vodka when he came near. His walk was effective, and
he clearly did his best to appear dignified, and to impress
people by his manner.
This gentleman now approached the prince slowly, and
with a most courteous smile; silently took his hand and held
it in his own, as he examined the prince’s features as though
searching for familiar traits therein.
‘Tis he, ‘tis he!’ he said at last, quietly, but with much so-
lemnity. ‘As though he were alive once more. I heard the
familiar name-the dear familiar name—and, oh. I how it
reminded me of the irrevocable past—Prince Muishkin, I
believe ?’
‘Exactly so.’
‘General Ivolgin—retired and unfortunate. May I ask
your Christian and generic names?’
‘Lef Nicolaievitch.’
‘So, so—the son of my old, I may say my childhood’s
friend, Nicolai Petrovitch.’
‘My father’s name was Nicolai Lvovitch.’
‘Lvovitch,’ repeated the general without the slightest
haste, and with perfect confidence, just as though he had
not committed himself the least in the world, but merely
made a little slip of the tongue. He sat down, and taking the

1 The Idiot