"I'll bet," he cried, "that you were going to say something quite different, Prince, and maybe not to me at all . . . But what's the matter? Do you feel bad?"

"That may be, that may well be, and it was a very subtle observation that I may have wanted to approach someone else!"

Having said this, he smiled somehow strangely and even ridiculously, but suddenly, as if becoming excited, he exclaimed:

"Don't remind me of what I did three days ago! I've been feeling very ashamed these three days ... I know I'm to blame . . ."

"But. . . but what did you do that was so terrible?"

"I can see that you are perhaps more ashamed for me than

anyone else, Evgeny Pavlovich; you're blushing, that's the sign of a beautiful heart. I'll leave presently, you may be sure."

"What's the matter with him? Is this how his fits begin?" Lizaveta Prokofyevna turned fearfully to Kolya.

"Never mind, Lizaveta Prokofyevna, I'm not having a fit; I'll leave right now. I know I've been . . . mistreated by nature. I've been ill for twenty-four years, from birth to the age of twenty-four. Take it from me now as from a sick man. I'll leave right now, right now, you may be sure. I'm not blushing—because it would be strange to blush at that, isn't it so?—but I'm superfluous in society ... I don't say it out of vanity ... I was thinking it over during these three days and decided that I should inform you candidly and nobly at the first opportunity. There are certain ideas, there are lofty ideas, which I ought not to start talking about, because I'll certainly make everyone laugh; Prince Shch. has just reminded me of that very thing . . . My gestures are inappropriate, I have no sense of measure; my words are wrong, they don't correspond to my thoughts, and that is humiliating for the thoughts. And therefore I have no right . . . then, too, I'm insecure, I . . . I'm convinced that I cannot be offended in this house, that I am loved more than I'm worth, but I know (I know for certain) that after twenty years of illness there must surely be some trace left, so that it's impossible not to laugh at me . . . sometimes ... is that so?"

He looked around as if waiting for a response and a decision. Everyone stood in painful perplexity from this unexpected, morbid, and, as it seemed, in any case groundless outburst. But this outburst gave occasion to a strange episode.

"Why do you say that here?" Aglaya suddenly cried. "Why do you say it to them? To them! To them!"

She seemed to be in the ultimate degree of indignation: her eyes flashed fire. The prince stood dumb and speechless before her and suddenly turned pale.

"There's no one here who is worth such words!" Aglaya burst out. "No one, no one here is worth your little finger, or your intelligence, or your heart! You're more honest than all of them, nobler than all of them, better than all of them, kinder than all of them, more intelligent than all of them! There are people here who aren't worthy of bending down to pick up the handkerchief you've just dropped . . . Why do you humiliate yourself and place yourself lower than everyone else? Why have you twisted everything in yourself, why is there no pride in you?"

"Lord, who'd have thought it?" Lizaveta Prokofyevna clasped her hands.

"The poor knight! Hurrah!" Kolya shouted in delight.

"Quiet! . . . How do they dare offend me here in your house!" Aglaya suddenly fell upon Lizaveta Prokofyevna, now in that hysterical state in which one disregards all limits and overcomes all obstacles. "Why do they all torment me, every last one of them! Why do they all badger me on account of you, Prince? I won't marry you for anything! Know that, never and not for anything! Can one marry such a ridiculous man as you? Look at yourself in the mirror now, see how you're standing there! . . . Why, why do they tease me, saying that I should marry you? You must know it! You're also in conspiracy with them!"

"No one ever teased her!" Adelaida murmured in fright.

"It never entered anyone's mind, no one ever said a word about it!" cried Alexandra Ivanovna.

"Who teased her? When? Who could have told her that? Is she raving?" Lizaveta Prokofyevna, trembling with wrath, turned to them all.

"You all said it, all of you, all these three days! I'll never, never marry him!"

Having shouted that, Aglaya dissolved in bitter tears, covered her face with a handkerchief, and collapsed into a chair.

"But he hasn't asked you yet . . ."

"I haven't asked you, Aglaya Ivanovna," suddenly escaped from the prince.

"Wha-a-at?" Lizaveta Prokofyevna suddenly drew out in astonishment, indignation, and horror. "What's tha-a-at?"

She refused to believe her ears.

"I meant to say ... I meant to say," the prince was trembling, "I only meant to explain to Aglaya Ivanovna ... to have the honor of explaining to her that I never had any intention ... to have the honor of asking for her hand . . . even once . . . I'm not to blame for any of it, by God, I'm not, Aglaya Ivanovna! I never meant to, it never entered my mind and never will, you'll see for yourself: you may be sure! Some wicked man has slandered me before you! You may rest assured!"

Saying this, he approached Aglaya. She took away the handkerchief with which she had covered her face, quickly glanced at him and his whole frightened figure, realized what he had just said, and suddenly burst out laughing right in his face—such merry,

irrepressible laughter, such funny and mocking laughter, that Adelaida was the first to succumb, especially when she also looked at the prince, rushed to her sister, embraced her, and laughed the same irrepressible, merry schoolgirl's laughter as Aglaya. Looking at them, the prince suddenly began to smile, too, and to repeat with a joyful and happy expression:

"Well, thank God, thank God!"

At this point Alexandra also could not help herself and laughed wholeheartedly. It seemed there would be no end to this laughter of the three of them.

"Ah, crazy girls!" Lizaveta Prokofyevna muttered. "First they frighten you, then . . ."

But Prince Shch., too, was laughing now, Evgeny Pavlovich was laughing, Kolya was guffawing nonstop, and, looking at them all, the prince also guffawed.

"Let's go for a walk, let's go for a walk!" cried Adelaida. "All of us together, and certainly the prince with us. There's no need for you to leave, you dear man! What a dear man he is, Aglaya! Isn't it so, mama? Besides, I must certainly, certainly kiss him and embrace him for . . . for what he just said to Aglaya. Maman, dear, will you allow me to kiss him? Aglaya, allow me to kiss your prince!" cried the mischievous girl, and she indeed ran over to the prince and kissed him on the forehead. He seized her hands, squeezed them so hard that Adelaida nearly cried out, looked at her with infinite joy, and suddenly brought her hand quickly to his lips and kissed it three times.

"Let's go, then!" Aglaya called. "Prince, you'll escort me. Can he, maman? A suitor who has rejected me? You have rejected me forever, haven't you, Prince? No, you don't offer a lady your arm like that, don't you know how to take a lady's arm? Like this, come on, we'll go ahead of them all; do you want to go ahead of them, tête-à-tête?"

She talked nonstop, still with bursts of laughter.

"Thank God! Thank God!" Lizaveta Prokofyevna kept repeating, not knowing herself what she was glad about.