"She made him a present of it herself today," said Varya, "and this evening everything is to be decided."

"This evening!" Nina Alexandrovna repeated in a half-whisper, as if in despair. "So, then? There are no more doubts here, nor any hopes: she has announced it all by the portrait . . . And what, did he show it to you himself?" she added in surprise.

"You know we've hardly said a word to each other for a whole month now. Ptitsyn told me about it all, and the portrait was lying there on the floor by the table. I picked it up."

"Prince," Nina Alexandrovna suddenly turned to him, "I wanted to ask you—in fact, that's why I invited you here—have you known my son for a long time? He told me, I believe, that you arrived from somewhere only today?"

The prince explained briefly about himself, omitting the greater part. Nina Alexandrovna and Varya heard him out.

"I'm not trying to ferret out anything about Gavrila Ardalionovich in asking you," observed Nina Alexandrovna, "you must make no mistake on that account. If there is anything that he cannot tell me himself, I have no wish to try and find it out behind his back. What I mean, in fact, is that earlier, in your presence and after you left, Ganya said in answer to my question about you: 'He knows everything, no need for ceremony!' Now, what does that mean? That is, I'd like to know to what extent . . ."

Suddenly Ganya and Ptitsyn came in; Nina Alexandrovna at once fell silent. The prince remained in the chair next to her, and Varya stepped aside; the portrait of Nastasya Filippovna lay most conspicuously on Nina Alexandrovna's worktable, directly in front of her. Ganya saw it, frowned, vexedly took it from the table, and flung it onto his desk, which was at the other end of the room.

"Today, Ganya?" Nina Alexandrovna suddenly asked.

"Today what?" Ganya gave a start and suddenly fell upon the prince. "Ah, I understand, you're into it here, too! . . . What is it with you, some sort of illness or something? Can't help yourself? But understand, finally, Your Highness ..."

"I'm to blame here, Ganya, and nobody else," Ptitsyn interrupted.

Ganya looked at him questioningly.

"But it's better, Ganya, the more so as the matter's concluded on one side," Ptitsyn murmured and, stepping away, sat down at the table, took some sort of scribbled-over paper from his pocket, and began studying it intently. Ganya stood in gloom, waiting uneasily for a family scene. He did not even think of apologizing to the prince.

"If it's all concluded, then, of course, Ivan Petrovich is right," said Nina Alexandrovna. "Don't frown, please, and don't be vexed, Ganya, I won't ask about anything that you don't want to talk about yourself, and I assure you that I am completely resigned, kindly don't worry."

She said this without taking her eyes from her work and, as it seemed, quite calmly. Ganya was surprised, but remained warily silent and looked at his mother, waiting for her to speak her mind more clearly. Family scenes had already cost him much too dearly. Nina Alexandrovna noticed this wariness and added, with a bitter smile:

"You still doubt and don't believe me. You needn't worry, there will be no tears or entreaties, as before, at least not on my part. All I want is for you to be happy and you know that; I am resigned to fate, but my heart will always be with you, whether we stay together or must part. Of course, I can only answer for myself; you cannot ask the same of your sister ..."

"Ah, her again!" cried Ganya, looking mockingly and hatefully at his sister. "Mama! Again I swear to you something on which you have my word already: no one will ever dare to mistreat you while I am here, while I am alive. Whoever it may concern, I shall insist on the fullest respect, whoever crosses our threshold ..."

Ganya was so overjoyed that he looked at his mother almost conciliatingly, almost tenderly.

"I wasn't afraid for myself, Ganya, you know that. It's not myself I've worried and suffered over all this time. They say it will all be concluded tonight? What will be concluded?"

"Tonight, at her place, she has promised to announce whether she gives me her consent or not," replied Ganya.

"For almost three weeks we've avoided speaking of it, and it was better. Now, when everything's already concluded, I will allow myself to ask just one thing: how could she give you her consent and even present you with her portrait, when you don't love her? Can it be that she, being so . . . so . . ."

"Experienced, you mean?"

"That's not how I wanted to put it. Can it be that you could blind her eyes to such a degree?"

Extraordinary irritation suddenly rang in this question. Ganya stood, reflected for a moment, and, not concealing his derision, said:

"You've gotten carried away, mama, and again could not restrain yourself, and that's how everything always starts and flares up with us. You said there wouldn't be any questions or reproaches, yet they've already started! We'd better drop it, really, we'd better; at least you had the intention ... I will never leave you, not for anything; another man would flee from such a sister at least—see how she's looking at me now! Let's leave it at that! I was already rejoicing so . . . And how do you know I'm deceiving Nastasya Filippovna? But, as for Varya, it's as she wishes and—enough! Well, now it's quite enough!"

Ganya was getting more and more excited with every word and paced the room aimlessly. Such conversations instantly became a sore spot in all members of the family.

"I said, if she comes in here, then I go out of here—and I'll also keep my word," said Varya.

"Out of stubbornness!" cried Ganya. "And it's out of stubbornness that you don't get married! What are you doing snorting at me! I spit on it all, Varvara Ardalionovna; if you like, you can carry out your intention right now. I'm quite sick of you. So! You've finally decided to leave us, Prince!" he shouted at the prince, seeing him get up from his place.

In Ganya's voice that degree of irritation could be heard in which a man almost enjoys his irritation, gives himself over to it without

restraint and almost with increasing pleasure, whatever may come of it. The prince turned around at the door in order to make some reply, but, seeing from the pained expression on his offender's face that with one more drop the vessel would overflow, he turned again and silently went out. A few minutes later he heard, by the noises coming from the drawing room, that in his absence the conversation had become more noisy and frank.

He went through the large room to the front hall, in order to get to the corridor and from there to his room. Passing by the door to the stairs, he heard and saw that someone outside the door was trying very hard to ring the bell; but something must have been wrong with the bell: it only jiggled slightly but made no sound. The prince lifted the bar, opened the door, and—stepped back in amazement, even shuddered all over: before him stood Nastasya Filippovna. He recognized her at once from the portrait. Her eyes flashed with a burst of vexation when she saw him; she quickly came into the front hall, pushed him aside with her shoulder, and said wrathfully, flinging off her fur coat:

"If you're too lazy to fix the doorbell, you should at least be sitting in the front hall when people knock. Well, there, now he's dropped my coat, the oaf!"

The coat was indeed lying on the floor; Nastasya Filippovna, not waiting for the prince to help her out of it, had flung it off into his arms without looking, but the prince had not managed to catch it.