Page 783 - the-idiot

‘Wouldn’t it be better, esteemed prince, wouldn’t it be
better— to—don’t you know—‘
Lebedeff made a strange and very expressive grimace; he
twisted about in his chair, and did something, apparently
symbolical, with his hands.
‘What do you mean?’ said the prince.
‘Why, open it, for the time being, don’t you know?’ he
said, most confidentially and mysteriously.
The prince jumped up so furiously that Lebedeff ran
towards the door; having gained which strategic position,
however, he stopped and looked back to see if he might
hope for pardon.
‘Oh, Lebedeff, Lebedeff! Can a man really sink to such
depths of meanness?’ said the prince, sadly.
Lebedeff’s face brightened.
‘Oh, I’m a mean wretch—a mean wretch!’ he said, ap-
proaching the prince once more, and beating his breast,
with tears in his eyes.
‘It’s abominable dishonesty, you know!’
‘Dishonesty—it is, it is! That’s the very word!’
‘What in the world induces you to act so? You are noth-
ing but a spy. Why did you write anonymously to worry so
noble and generous a lady? Why should not Aglaya Iva-
novna write a note to whomever she pleases? What did you
mean to complain of today? What did you expect to get by
it? What made you go at all?’
‘Pure amiable curiosity,—I assure you—desire to do a
service. That’s all. Now I’m entirely yours again, your slave;
hang me if you like!’

The Idiot