The Art of Gentle Confrontation — The Idiot

As a general rule, old General Ivolgin's paroxysms ended in smoke. This time something more serious. He has turned up without the olive branch of peace, not in the garb of penitence, but in an uncommonly bad temper. Everyone seems to know something, and is afraid to talk about it. At about eleven he meets the prince in the road. I think I may be permitted to congratulate you upon the realization of your heart's best wishes. What best wishes. The prince blushes. He thought nobody had seen, heard, noticed, or understood anything. Inside, the old man is very pale. His hands will not rest. He takes up a book, looks at the heading, shuts it, seizes another, waves it in the air. Prince, I wish to place myself in a respectable position. I wish to esteem myself. The prince brings out his copy-book sentence. A man of such noble aspirations is worthy of all esteem by virtue of those aspirations alone. It soothes him. Not now. Now is a dream. It is to be the hour of Fate to me. My own hour.

That evening Lebedeff arrives performing innocence. The four hundred roubles. Oh-h-h. You mean the four hundred roubles. I found the money, long ago. Under the chair upon which my coat had hung. Impossible. You searched every corner. Of course I looked there. Very much so. Fifteen or twenty times. Then he put the purse back, and moved the chair so the general might find it, and the general never saw it. Where is it now. Here, in the lining of my coat. Look, you can feel it for yourself. It knocks against my legs when I walk. I think the night after its disappearance it was buried under a bush in the garden.

Well, take care you don't tell him to his face that you have found the purse. Simply let him see that it is no longer in the lining, and form his own conclusions. Had I not just better tell him I have found it, and pretend I never guessed where it was. No. It's too late for that. That would be dangerous now. Be nice with him. Don't show him. Oh, silence isn't the word. Softly, softly. But the prince remains as puzzled as ever, if not more so. He awaits next morning's interview with the general most impatiently.