"I take all you've said as a joke, Evgeny Pavlych," Prince Shch. objected seriously.
"I haven't seen all the liberals and will not venture to judge," said Alexandra Ivanovna, "but I have listened to your thought with indignation: you've taken a particular case and made it a general rule, and that means slander."
"A particular case? Ahh! The word has been spoken," Evgeny Pavlovich picked up. "What do you think, Prince, is it a particular case or not?"
"I also must say that I've seen little of and have spent little time . . . with liberals," said the prince, "but it seems to me that you may be somewhat right and that the Russian liberalism you spoke of is indeed partly inclined to hate Russia itself and not only its order of things. Of course, that's only in part ... of course, it wouldn't be fair to say of all . . ."
He faltered and did not finish. Despite all his agitation, he was extremely interested in the conversation. There was a special feature in the prince, consisting of the extraordinary naivety of the attention with which he always listened to something that interested him, and of the replies he gave when he was addressed with questions about it. His face and even the attitude of his body somehow reflected this naivety, this faith, suspecting neither mockery nor humor. But although Evgeny Pavlovich had long been addressing him not otherwise than with a certain peculiar smile, now, at the
prince's response, he looked at him somehow very seriously, as if he had never expected such a response from him.
"So . . . that's strange, though, on your part," he said, "and you really have answered me seriously, Prince?"
"Why, weren't you asking seriously?" the other retorted in surprise.
Everyone laughed.
"Trust him," said Adelaida, "Evgeny Pavlych always makes fools of everyone! If you only knew what stories he tells sometimes in the most serious way!"
"In my opinion, this is a painful conversation, and should never have been started at all," Alexandra observed sharply. "We wanted to go for a walk ..."
"Let's go, it's a lovely evening!" cried Evgeny Pavlovich. "But, to prove to you that this time I was speaking quite seriously, and, above all, to prove it to the prince (I'm extremely interested in you, Prince, and I swear to you that I'm not at all such an empty man as I must certainly seem—though, in fact, I am an empty man!), and ... if you will permit me, ladies and gentlemen, I will ask the prince one last question, out of personal curiosity, and we'll end there. This question occurred to me, as if on purpose, two hours ago (you see, Prince, I also sometimes think about serious things); I've answered it, but let's see what the prince says. Mention has just been made of a 'particular case.' This has become a very portentous little phrase among us, one hears it often. Recently everyone was talking and writing about that terrible murder of six people by that . . . young man, and of a strange speech by his defense attorney, in which he said that, given the destitute condition of the criminal, it naturallyhad to occur to him to kill those six people. That's not literal, but the meaning, I think, was that or something approaching it. In my personal opinion, the defense attorney, in voicing such a strange thought, was fully convinced that what he was saying was the most liberal, the most humane and progressive thing that could possibly be said in our time. Well, what would you say: is this perversion of notions and convictions, this possibility of such a warped and extraordinary view of things, a particular case or a general one?"
Everyone burst out laughing.
"A particular one, naturally, a particular one," laughed Alexandra and Adelaida.
"And allow me to remind you again, Evgeny Pavlych," added Prince Shch., "that by now your joke has worn too thin."
"What do you think, Prince?" Evgeny Pavlovich did not listen, having caught the curious and grave gaze of Prince Lev Nikolaevich upon him. "How does it seem to you: is this a particular case or a general one? I confess, it was for you that I thought up this question."
"No, not particular," the prince said quietly but firmly.
"For pity's sake, Lev Nikolaevich," Prince Shch. cried with some vexation, "don't you see that he's trying to trap you; he's decidedly laughing, and it's precisely you that he intends to sharpen his teeth on."
"I thought Evgeny Pavlych was speaking seriously," the prince blushed and lowered his eyes.
"My dear Prince," Prince Shch. went on, "remember what you and I talked about once, about three months ago; we precisely talked about the fact that, in our newly opened young courts, 4one can already point to so many remarkable and talented defense attorneys! And how many decisions remarkable in the highest degree have been handed down by the juries? How glad you were, and how glad I was then of your gladness ... we said we could be proud . . . And this clumsy defense, this strange argument, is, of course, an accident, one in a thousand."
Prince Lev Nikolaevich pondered a little, but with the most convinced air, though speaking softly and even as if timidly, replied:
"I only wanted to say that the distortion of ideas and notions (as Evgeny Pavlych put it) occurs very often, and is unfortunately much more of a general than a particular case. And to the point that, if this distortion were not such a general case, there might not be such impossible crimes as these . . ."
"Impossible crimes? But I assure you that exactly the same crimes, and perhaps still more terrible ones, existed before, and have always existed, not only here but everywhere, and, in my opinion, will occur for a very long time to come. The difference is that before we had less publicity, while now we've begun to speak aloud and even to write about them, which is why it seems as if these criminals have appeared only now. That's your mistake, an extremely naïve mistake, Prince, I assure you," Prince Shch. smiled mockingly.
"I myself know that there were very many crimes before, and just as terrible; I was in some prisons not long ago and managed to become acquainted with certain criminals and accused men. There are even more horrible criminals than this one, who have
killed ten people and do not repent at all. But at the same time I noticed this: the most inveterate and unrepentant murderer still knows that he is a criminal,that is, in all conscience he considers that he has done wrong, though without any repentance. And every one of them is the same; but those whom Evgeny Pavlych has begun speaking about do not even want to consider themselves criminals and think to themselves that they had the right and . . . even did a good thing, or almost. That, in my opinion, is what makes the terrible difference. And note that they're all young people, that is, precisely of an age when they can most easily and defenselessly fall under the influence of perverse ideas."
Prince Shch. was no longer laughing and listened to the prince with perplexity. Alexandra Ivanovna, who had long been wanting to make some remark, kept silent, as if some special thought stopped her. But Evgeny Pavlovich looked at the prince in decided astonishment and this time without any smile.