AN hour later he was in St. Petersburg, and by ten o'clock he had
rung the bell at Rogojin's.
He had gone to the front door, and was kept waiting a long while
before anyone came. At last the door of old Mrs. Rogojin's flat
was opened, and an aged servant appeared.
"Parfen Semionovitch is not at home," she announced from the
doorway. "Whom do you want?"
"Parfen Semionovitch."
"He is not in."
The old woman examined the prince from head to foot with great
curiosity.
"At all events tell me whether he slept at home last night, and
whether he came alone?"
The old woman continued to stare at him, but said nothing.
"Was not Nastasia Philipovna here with him, yesterday evening?"
"And, pray, who are you yourself?"
"Prince Lef Nicolaievitch Muishkin; he knows me well."
"He is not at home."
The woman lowered her eyes.
"And Nastasia Philipovna?"
"I know nothing about it."
"Stop a minute! When will he come back?"
"I don't know that either."
The door was shut with these words, and the old woman
disappeared. The prince decided to come back within an
hour. Passing out of the house, he met the porter.
"Is Parfen Semionovitch at home?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Why did they tell me he was not at home, then?" "Where did they
tell you so,—at his door?" "No, at his mother's flat; I rang at
Parfen Semionovitch's door and nobody came."
"Well, he may have gone out. I can't tell. Sometimes he takes the
keys with him, and leaves the rooms empty for two or three days."
"Do you know for certain that he was at home last night?"
"Yes, he was."
"Was Nastasia Philipovna with him?"
"I don't know; she doesn't come often. I think I should have
known if she had come."
The prince went out deep in thought, and walked up and down the
pavement for some time. The windows of all the rooms occupied by
Rogojin were closed, those of his mother's apartments were open. It was a hot, bright day. The prince crossed the road in order to have a good look at the windows again; not only were Rogojin's closed, but the white blinds were all down as well.
He stood there for a minute and then, suddenly and strangely
enough, it seemed to him that a little corner of one of the
blinds was lifted, and Rogojin's face appeared for an instant and
then vanished. He waited another minute, and decided to go and
ring the bell once more; however, he thought better of it again
and put it off for an hour.
The chief object in his mind at this moment was to get as quickly
as he could to Nastasia Philipovna's lodging. He remembered that, not long since, when she had left Pavlofsk at his request, he had begged her to put up in town at the house of a respectable widow, who had well-furnished rooms to let, near the Ismailofsky barracks. Probably Nastasia had kept the rooms when she came down to Pavlofsk this last time; and most likely she would have spent the night in them, Rogojin having taken her straight there from the station.
The prince took a droshky. It struck him as he drove on that he
ought to have begun by coming here, since it was most improbable
that Rogojin should have taken Nastasia to his own house last
night. He remembered that the porter said she very rarely came at
all, so that it was still less likely that she would have gone
there so late at night.
Vainly trying to comfort himself with these reflections, the
prince reached the Ismailofsky barracks more dead than alive.
To his consternation the good people at the lodgings had not only
heard nothing of Nastasia, but all came out to look at him as if
he were a marvel of some sort. The whole family, of all ages, surrounded him, and he was begged to enter. He guessed at once that they knew perfectly well who he was, and that yesterday ought to have been his wedding-day; and further that they were dying to ask about the wedding, and especially about why he should be here now, inquiring for the woman who in all reasonable human probability might have been expected to be with him in Pavlofsk.