Page 451 - the-idiot

‘Well, prince, that’s enough to knock me down! It as-
tounds me! Here you are, as simple and innocent as a knight
of the golden age, and yet ... yet ... you read a man’s soul like
a psychologist! Now, do explain it to me, prince, because I
... I really do not understand! ... Of course, my aim was to
borrow money all along, and you ... you asked the question
as if there was nothing blameable in it—as if you thought it
quite natural.’
‘Yes ... from you it is quite natural.’
‘And you are not offended?’
‘Why should I be offended?’
‘Well, just listen, prince. I remained here last evening,
partly because I have a great admiration for the French
archbishop Bourdaloue. I enjoyed a discussion over him
till three o’clock in the morning, with Lebedeff; and then
... then—I swear by all I hold sacred that I am telling you
the truth—then I wished to develop my soul in this frank
and heartfelt confession to you. This was my thought as I
was sobbing myself to sleep at dawn. Just as I was losing
consciousness, tears in my soul, tears on my face (I remem-
ber how I lay there sobbing), an idea from hell struck me.
‘Why not, after confessing, borrow money from him?’ You
see, this confession was a kind of masterstroke; I intended
to use it as a means to your good grace and favour—and
then—then I meant to walk off with a hundred and fifty
roubles. Now, do you not call that base?’
‘It is hardly an exact statement of the case,’ said the
prince in reply. ‘You have confused your motives and ideas,
as I need scarcely say too often happens to myself. I can as-

0 The Idiot