was discovered by Mr. Turgenev,⁴⁴ barely able to speak Russian, had fallen in love with a daughter of General Epanchin, and had succeeded in being received in the house as a fiancé. But, like that French seminarian about whom an anecdote had just been published, who had purposely allowed himself to be ordained a priest, had purposely sought this ordination, had performed all the rites, all the bowing, kissing, vows, etc., in order to proclaim publicly, the next day, in a letter to his bishop, that, not believing in God, he considered it dishonest to deceive folk and be fed by them gratis, and therefore he was laying aside his yesterday's dignity, and would publish his letter in the liberal newspapers—like this atheist, the prince was supposed to have dissembled in his own way. The story went that he had supposedly waited on purpose for a solemn, formal party given by his fiancee's parents, at which he had been introduced to a great many important persons, in order to proclaim his way of thinking aloud and in front of everyone, to denounce the venerable dignitaries, to reject his fiancée publicly and offensively, and, while resisting the servants who were taking him out, to smash a beautiful Chinese vase. To this was added, with a view to characterizing modern morals, that the muddle-headed young man actually loved his fiancée, the general's daughter, but had rejected her solely out of nihilism and for the sake of the imminent scandal, so as not to deny himself the pleasure of marrying a fallen woman before the whole world and thereby proving that in his conviction there were neither fallen nor virtuous women, but only free women; that he did not believe in the social and old distinction, but believed only in the "woman question." That, finally, a fallen woman, in his eyes, was even somewhat higher than an unfallen one. This explanation seemed quite plausible and was accepted by the majority of the summer people, the more so as it was confirmed by everyday facts. True, many things remained unexplained: the story went that the poor girl loved her fiancé—her "seducer" according to some—so much that she came running to him the very next day after he abandoned her and sat there with his mistress; others insisted, on the contrary, that he purposely lured her to his mistress, solely out of nihilism, that is, for the sake of the disgrace and offense. Be that as it may, interest in the event grew daily, the more so as there remained not the slightest doubt that the scandalous wedding would actually take place.

And so, if we were asked to explain—not about the nihilistic nuances of the event, but simply to what extent the appointed

wedding satisfied the actual desires of the prince, precisely what those desires consisted in at the present moment, precisely how to define our hero's state of mind at the present moment, etc., etc., in the same vein—we confess, we would have great difficulty in answering. We know only one thing, that the wedding was indeed appointed, and that the prince himself had entrusted Lebedev, Keller, and some acquaintance of Lebedev's, whom he had introduced to the prince for the occasion, to take upon themselves all the cares connected with the matter, both churchly and practical; that money was not to be spared, that Nastasya Filippovna was hurrying and insisting on the wedding; that Keller, at his own fervent request, had been appointed the prince's groomsman,⁴⁵ and for Nastasya Filippovna—Burdovsky, who accepted the appointment with rapture, and that the day of the wedding was appointed for the beginning of July. But apart from these very specific circumstances, some other facts are known to us which have decidedly thrown us off, precisely because they contradict the foregoing ones. We strongly suspect, for instance, that, having entrusted Lebedev and the others to take all the cares on themselves, the prince all but forgot that very same day that he had a master of ceremonies, and a groomsman, and a wedding, and that if he so quickly arranged the transfer of his cares to others, it was solely so as not to think about them himself, and even perhaps to forget them as quickly. What was he thinking about, in that case? What did he want to remember, and what was he striving for? There was also no doubt that there had been no forcing of him here (on Nastasya Filippovna's part, for instance); that Nastasya Filippovna indeed wished absolutely for a quick wedding, and that the wedding had been her idea and not the prince's at all; but the prince had consented freely, even somehow distractedly and as if he had been asked some rather ordinary thing. Of such strange facts we have a great many before us, yet they not only do not explain, but, in our opinion, even obscure the interpretation of the affair, however many we may cite; but, anyhow, we shall present one more.

Thus, it is perfectly well known to us that in the course of those two weeks the prince spent whole days and evenings with Nastasya Filippovna; that she took him with her for walks, for concerts; that he went for rides with her every day in the carriage; that he would begin to worry about her if he did not see her for only an hour (which meant that, by all tokens, he sincerely loved her); that he listened to her with a quiet and meek smile, whatever she might

talk to him about, for whole hours, saying almost nothing himself. But we also know that during those same days, several times and even many times, he suddenly betook himself to the Epanchins', not concealing it from Nastasya Filippovna, which drove her almost to despair. We know that he was not received at the Epanchins' while they remained in Pavlovsk, that he was constantly denied a meeting with Aglaya Ivanovna; that he would leave without saying a word and the next day go to them again, as though he had completely forgotten the previous day's refusal, and, naturally, receive a new refusal. It is also known to us that an hour after Aglaya Ivanovna ran out of Nastasya Filippovna's house, and perhaps even earlier, the prince was already at the Epanchins', in the certainty, of course, of finding Aglaya there, and that his appearance at the Epanchins' had caused extreme confusion and fear in the house, because Aglaya had not come home yet, and it was only from him that they first heard that she had gone with him to Nastasya Filippovna's. It was said that Lizaveta Prokofyevna, her daughters, and even Prince Shch. had treated the prince extremely harshly, inimically, and right then refused him, in vehement terms, their acquaintance and friendship, especially when Varvara Arda-lionovna suddenly came to Lizaveta Prokofyevna and announced that Aglaya Ivanovna had been at her house for an hour, in a terrible state, and seemed not to want to go home. This last news struck Lizaveta Prokofyevna most of all, and it was perfectly correct: having left Nastasya Filippovna's, Aglaya indeed would sooner have died than show herself now to the eyes of her family, and therefore she had rushed to Nina Alexandrovna's. Varvara Ardalionovna, for her part, had at once found it necessary to inform Lizaveta Prokofyevna of all this without the least delay. Mother, daughters, everyone at once rushed to Nina Alexandrovna's, followed by the father of the family, Ivan Fyodorovich himself, who had just returned home; after them trudged Prince Lev Nikolaevich, in spite of the banishment and harsh words; but, on Varvara Ardalionovna's orders, he was not permitted to see Aglaya there either. The end of the matter, however, was that when Aglaya saw her mother and sisters weeping over her and not reproaching her at all, she threw herself into their arms and at once returned home with them. It was said, though the rumors were not quite precise, that Gavrila Ardalionovich was terribly unlucky this time as well; that, seizing the moment when Varvara Ardalionovna had run to Lizaveta Prokofyevna's, he, alone with Aglaya, had decided to try