It was not far, only as far as the Torgovy Bridge. For the first few minutes we were silent. I wondered how he would start the conversation. I suspected he would want to probe me, try me, sound me out, but instead, without any preamble, he went straight to the point.
“There’s something which bothers me now a great deal, Ivan Petrovich,” he began, “something I’d like to discuss with you as a matter of priority and pick your brains – I’ve long since decided to ignore the court’s decision in the case I won and to let Ikhmenev have the disputed ten thousand roubles. How am I to do it?”
The thought immediately flashed through my mind: “Surely you must know what to do, unless you’re just pulling my leg!”
“I don’t know, Prince,” I replied, trying to sound as non-committal as possible, “in anything else, namely in whatever concerns Natalya Nikolayevna, I would be quite ready to help you with any information likely to be of use both to you and to us, but in this particular matter you yourself of course know more than I do.”
“No, not at all, much less in fact. You know them, and perhaps Natalya Nikolayevna herself has spoken to you on the matter on a number of occasions, and that for me would be the main consideration. You can help me a great deal – the matter is extremely awkward. I’m prepared to let him have the money – as a matter of fact, I’ve made up my mind to do so however subsequent events might turn out, you understand? But how, in what guise do I present my concession, that is the question. The old man is proud and stubborn. He might well spurn my generosity and throw the money back in my face.”
“I beg your pardon, but do you consider the money to be his or yours?”
“I won the case, consequently, mine.”
“But morally?”
“Of course, mine,” he replied, somewhat taken aback by my bluntness. “But it looks to me as though you don’t quite realize what’s entailed. I’m not accusing Ikhmenev of premeditated deception and, let me make it clear to you, never did. He brought the trouble upon his own head. He was guilty of negligence, of mismanaging the business entrusted to him and, according to our original agreement, was answerable for some of this. But, do you know, it’s not even a question of that – it’s our quarrel that is at the bottom of everything, the mutual insults we traded, in a word – our wounded self-esteem. I might easily have ignored that wretched ten thousand roubles, but of course you know how and why the whole of this matter originated. I agree, I was mistrustful, I was perhaps wrong (wrong at the time, that is), but I didn’t realize it and, in a moment of desperation, smarting from his insults, I took the opportunity and instituted proceedings. All this may strike you as perhaps not quite honourable on my part. I’m not justifying myself – all I’ll say is that anger and, above all, disaffected pride ought not to be confused with lack of honour, they are quite natural, human traits. And, I confess and repeat, having practically no idea what sort of a man Ikhmenev was, I took on trust all those rumours about his daughter and Alyosha, and consequently could easily have believed in the premeditated theft of the money… but never mind all that. The most important thing is what to do now? To turn the money down? But if I say in the same breath that I still consider my case to have been justified, I’m making him a gift of it. On top of that there’s also Natalya Nikolayevna’s delicate position to consider… He’s bound to fling the money back in my face.”
“There you are, you said it yourself: fling – consequently you regard him as an honest man and can therefore be quite sure he did not steal your money. And if so, why not just go to him and declare openly that you consider your case was invalid? That would be an honourable act, and Ikhmenev would perhaps not find it difficult to take his own money.”
“Hm… his own money – there’s the rub. What are you doing to me? To go to him and explain that I consider my case was invalid? So why then did you sue if you knew you had no case to answer? That’s what everyone will say to my face. And it would be unfair, because my case was valid. I never said nor wrote anywhere that he stole. But of his carelessness, lack of judgement and bad management I’m still convinced to this day. This money is unquestionably mine, and therefore it hurts to be putting myself deliberately in the wrong and, finally, Ikhmenev, I repeat, brought it all upon himself, and you’re now urging me to seek his pardon for his own misdeeds – that’s hard.”
“It seems to me if two people want to make peace, then…”
“Then it’s easily done, you think?”
“Yes.”
“No, sometimes not at all, the more so since—”
“The more so since it’s bound up with other considerations. In this I fully agree with you, Prince. You must resolve the relationship between Natalya Nikolayevna and your son in all matters for which you are responsible, and resolve it to the full satisfaction of the Ikhmenevs. Only then will you also be able to settle equitably the question of the lawsuit with Ikhmenev. Whereas now, while everything is still up in the air, you have only one course – to own up to the unfairness of your action, and to own up openly and, if necessary, publicly. That’s my opinion. I’m being honest with you, because you yourself asked me what I thought and would surely not wish me to dissemble. This, as it happens, emboldens me to ask you something – why are you so bothered about returning the money to Ikhmenev? If you consider right to be on your side, why give it back? Pardon my curiosity, but this is very much bound up with other considerations—”
“But what do you think,” he suddenly asked me, as though he had not even heard my question at all, “are you sure old Ikhmenev would turn down the ten thousand, even if it was handed to him without any preambles and… and… and without any conciliatory remarks?”
“Of course, he would!”
I was scarcely able to contain myself and even shook with indignation. This brazenly sceptical question was tantamount to the Prince spitting in my face. One offence was compounded by another – by the discourteous, supercilious manner with which, without replying to my question and as though not deigning to notice it, he overrode it with one of his own, apparently indicating that I had overreached myself and had become excessively familiar in venturing to pose such questions. I simply loathed the arrogance of it all, and in the past had gone out of my way to dissuade Alyosha from resorting to such tactics.
“Hm… you’re too impulsive, and some things in this world do not unravel quite as you expect them to,” the Prince observed calmly in response to my outburst. “If you ask me, I think Natalya Nikolayevna could well come up with a solution to this problem. Mention it to her. She could well have some sound advice to offer.”
“Not on your life,” I replied brusquely. “You did not deign to listen to what I was about to say and interrupted me. Natalya Nikolayevna will understand that if you return the money in bad faith and without, as you call it, conciliatory remarks, it would mean you’re paying her father for his daughter, and her for Alyosha – in a word, you’re resorting to bribery…”
“Hm… is this how you see it, my kind Ivan Petrovich.” The Prince burst out laughing. Why did he laugh? “And yet,” he continued, “there’s still so much, so much the two of us have to discuss. But we haven’t the time now. All I’ll ask you is to appreciate one thing – this matter concerns directly Natalya Nikolayevna and her entire future, and to some extent it all depends on what understanding the two of us will reach and what conclusions we come to. You are indispensable in this matter – you’ll see for yourself. And therefore, if you have Natalya Nikolayevna’s best interests at heart, you cannot refuse to communicate with me, however little sympathy you might have for me. But we’ve arrived… A bientôt!”*