Page 335 - the-idiot

he must suffer dreadfully. He said he liked to look at that
picture; it was not that he liked it, but he felt the need of
looking at it. Rogojin was not merely a passionate soul; he
was a fighter. He was fighting for the restoration of his dy-
ing faith. He must have something to hold on to and believe,
and someone to believe in. What a strange picture that of
Holbein’s is! Why, this is the street, and here’s the house,
No. 16.
The prince rang the bell, and asked for Nastasia Philipov-
na. The lady of the house came out, and stated that Nastasia
had gone to stay with Daria Alexeyevna at Pavlofsk, and
might be there some days.
Madame Filisoff was a little woman of forty, with a cun-
ning face, and crafty, piercing eyes. When, with an air of
mystery, she asked her visitor’s name, he refused at first to
answer, but in a moment he changed his mind, and left strict
instructions that it should be given to Nastasia Philipovna.
The urgency of his request seemed to impress Madame Fili-
soff, and she put on a knowing expression, as if to say, ‘You
need not be afraid, I quite understand.’ The prince’s name
evidently was a great surprise to her. He stood and looked
absently at her for a moment, then turned, and took the
road back to his hotel. But he went away not as he came. A
great change had suddenly come over him. He went blindly
forward; his knees shook under him; he was tormented by
‘ideas”; his lips were blue, and trembled with a feeble, mean-
ingless smile. His demon was upon him once more.
What had happened to him? Why was his brow clammy
with drops of moisture, his knees shaking beneath him, and

The Idiot