"Ferdyshchenko's been hoodwinked! Really hoodwinked! No, I mean really hoodwinked!" Ferdyshchenko cried out in a tearful voice, seeing that he could and should put in a word.

"And who told you not to understand things? Learn your lesson now from intelligent people!" Darya Alexeevna (an old and trusty friend and accomplice of Totsky's) snapped out to him all but triumphantly.

"You're right, Afanasy Ivanovich, this petit jeu is very boring, and we must end it quickly," Nastasya Filippovna offered casually. "I'll tell what I promised, and then let's all play cards."

"But the promised anecdote before all!" the general warmly approved.

"Prince," Nastasya Filippovna suddenly addressed him sharply and unexpectedly, "these old friends of mine, the general and Afanasy Ivanovich, keep wanting to get me married. Tell me what you think: should I get married or not? I'll do as you say."

Afanasy Ivanovich turned pale, the general was dumbfounded; everyone stared and thrust their heads forward. Ganya froze in his place.

"To ... to whom?" asked the prince in a sinking voice.

"To Gavrila Ardalionovich Ivolgin," Nastasya Filippovna went on as sharply, firmly, and distinctly as before.

Several moments passed in silence; the prince seemed to be trying hard but could not utter a word, as if a terrible weight were pressing on his chest.

"N-no . . . don't!" he whispered at last and tensely drew his breath.

"And so it will be! Gavrila Ardalionovich!" she addressed him imperiously and as if solemnly, "did you hear what the prince decided? Well, so that is my answer; and let this business be concluded once and for all!"

"Nastasya Filippovna!" Afanasy Ivanovich said in a trembling voice.

"Nastasya Filippovna!" the general uttered in a persuading and startled voice.

Everyone stirred and started.

"What's wrong, gentlemen?" she went on, peering at her guests as if in amazement. "Why are you all so aflutter? And what faces you all have!"

"But . . . remember, Nastasya Filippovna," Totsky murmured, faltering, "you gave your promise, quite voluntarily, and you might be a little sparing . . . I'm at a loss and . . . certainly embarrassed, but ... In short, now, at such a moment, and in front ... in front of people, just like that ... to end a serious matter with this petit jeu, a matter of honor and of the heart ... on which depends . . ."

"I don't understand you, Afanasy Ivanovich; you're really quite confused. In the first place, what is this 'in front of people'? Aren't we in wonderfully intimate company? And why a petit jeu? I really wanted to tell my anecdote, and so I told it; is it no good? And why do you say it's 'not serious'? Isn't it serious? You heard me say to the prince: 'It will be as you say.' If he had said 'yes,' I would have consented at once; but he said 'no,' and I refused. My whole life was hanging by a hair—what could be more serious?"

"But the prince, why involve the prince? And what, finally, is the prince?" muttered the general, now almost unable to hold back his indignation at such even offensive authority granted to the prince.

"The prince is this for me, that I believe in him as the first truly devoted man in my whole life. He believed in me from the first glance, and I trust him."

"It only remains for me to thank Nastasya Filippovna for the extreme delicacy with which she has . . . treated me," the pale Ganya finally uttered in a trembling voice and with twisted lips.

"This is, of course, as it ought to be . . . But . . . the prince ... In this affair, the prince . . ."

"Is trying to get at the seventy-five thousand, is that it?" Nastasya Filippovna suddenly cut him off. "Is that what you wanted to say? Don't deny it, you certainly wanted to say that! Afanasy Ivanovich, I forgot to add: you can keep the seventy-five thousand for yourself and know that I've set you free gratis. Enough! You, too, need to breathe! Nine years and three months! Tomorrow—all anew, but today is my birthday and I'm on my own for the first time in my whole life! General, you can also take your pearls and give them to your wife—here they are; and tomorrow I'll vacate this apartment entirely. And there will be no more evenings, ladies and gentlemen!"

Having said this, she suddenly stood up as if wishing to leave.

"Nastasya Filippovna! Nastasya Filippovna!" came from all sides. Everyone stirred, everyone got up from their chairs; everyone surrounded her, everyone listened uneasily to these impulsive, feverish, frenzied words; everyone sensed some disorder, no one could make any sense of it, no one could understand anything. At that moment the doorbell rang loudly, strongly, just as earlier that day in Ganechka's apartment.

"Ahh! Here's the denouement! At last! It's half-past eleven!" Nastasya Filippovna cried. "Please be seated, ladies and gentlemen, this is the denouement!"

Having said this, she sat down herself. Strange laughter trembled on her lips. She sat silently, in feverish expectation, looking at the door.

"Rogozhin and the hundred thousand, no doubt," Ptitsyn murmured to himself.

XV

The maid Katya came in, badly frightened. "God knows what it is, Nastasya Filippovna, about a dozen men barged in, and they're all drunk, they want to come here, they say it's Rogozhin and that you know."

"That's right, Katya, let them all in at once." "You mean . . . all, Nastasya Filippovna? They're quite outrageous. Frightful!"

"All, let them all in, Katya, don't be afraid, all of them to a man,

or else they'll come in without you. Hear how noisy they are, just like the other time. Ladies and gentlemen, perhaps you're offended," she addressed her guests, "that I should receive such company in your presence? I'm very sorry and beg your pardon, but it must be so, and I wish very, very much that you will agree to be my witnesses in this denouement, though, incidentally, you may do as you please . . ."

The guests went on being amazed, whispering and exchanging glances, but it became perfectly clear that it had all been calculated and arranged beforehand, and that now Nastasya Filippovna— though she was, of course, out of her mind—would not be thrown off. They all suffered terribly from curiosity. Besides, there was really no one to be frightened. There were only two ladies: Darya Alexeevna, the sprightly lady, who had seen everything and whom it would have been very hard to put out, and the beautiful but silent stranger. But the silent stranger was scarcely able to understand anything: she was a traveling German lady and did not know a word of Russian; besides that, it seems she was as stupid as she was beautiful. She was a novelty, and it was an accepted thing to invite her to certain evenings, in magnificent costume, her hair done up as if for an exhibition, and to sit her there like a lovely picture to adorn the evening, just as some people, for their evenings, borrow some painting, vase, statue, or screen from their friends for one time only. As far as the men were concerned, Ptitsyn, for instance, was friends with Rogozhin; Ferdyshchenko was like a fish in water; Ganechka had not yet come to his senses, but felt vaguely yet irresistibly the feverish need to stand in this pillory to the end; the old schoolteacher, who had little grasp of what was going on, all but wept and literally trembled with fear, noticing some sort of extraordinary alarm around him and in Nastasya Filippovna, whom he doted on like a granddaughter; but he would sooner have died than abandon her at such a moment. As for Afanasy Ivanovich, he, of course, could not compromise himself in such adventures; but he was much too interested in the affair, even if it had taken such a crazy turn; then, too, Nastasya Filippovna had dropped two or three such little phrases on his account, that he could by no means leave without clarifying the matter definitively. He resolved to sit it out to the end and now to be completely silent and remain only as an observer, which, of course, his dignity demanded. General Epanchin alone, thoroughly offended as he had just been by such an unceremonious and ridicu-