"It can't be!" the prince groaned, wringing his hands.

"You think not? Maybe I'm proud myself, even if I am shameless. You just called me perfection; a fine perfection, if just for the sake of boasting that I've trampled on a million and a princely title, I go off to a thieves' den! What kind of wife am I for you after that? Afanasy Ivanych, I've really thrown a million out the window! How could you think I'd consider myself lucky to marry Ganechka and your seventy-five thousand? Keep the seventy-five thousand, Afanasy Ivanych (you didn't even get up to a hundred, Rogozhin outdid you!); as for Ganechka, I'll comfort him myself, I've got an idea. And now I want to carouse, I'm a streetwalker! I sat in prison

for ten years, now comes happiness! What's wrong, Rogozhin? Get ready, let's go!"

"Let's go!" bellowed Rogozhin, nearly beside himself with joy. "Hey, you . . . whoever . . . wine! Ohh! . . ."

"Lay in more wine, I'm going to drink. And will there be music?"

"There will, there will! Keep away!" Rogozhin screamed in frenzy, seeing Darya Alexeevna approaching Nastasya Filippovna. "She's mine! It's all mine! A queen! The end!"

He was breathless with joy; he circled around Nastasya Filippovna and cried out to everyone: "Keep away!" His whole company had already crowded into the drawing room. Some were drinking, others were shouting and guffawing, they were all in a most excited and uninhibited state. Ferdyshchenko began trying to sidle up to them. The general and Totsky made another move to disappear quickly. Ganya also had his hat in his hand, but he stood silently and still seemed unable to tear himself away from the picture that was developing before him.

"Keep away!" cried Rogozhin.

"What are you yelling for?" Nastasya Filippovna laughed loudly at him. "I'm still the mistress here; if I want, I can have you thrown out. I haven't taken your money yet, it's right there; give it to me, the whole packet! So there's a hundred thousand in this packet? Pah, how loathsome! What's wrong, Darya Alexeevna? Should I have ruined him?" (She pointed to the prince.) "How can he get married, he still needs a nursemaid himself; so the general will be his nursemaid—look how he dangles after him! See, Prince, your fiancée took the money because she's dissolute, and you wanted to marry her! Why are you crying? Bitter, is it? No, but laugh, as I do!" Nastasya Filippovna went on, with two big tears glistening on her own cheeks. "Trust in time—everything will pass! Better to change your mind now than later . . . But why are you all crying— here's Katya crying! What's wrong, Katya, dear? I've left a lot to you and Pasha, I've already made the arrangements, and now goodbye! I've made an honest girl like you wait on a dissolute one like me . . . It's better this way, Prince, truly better, you'd start despising me tomorrow, and there'd be no happiness for us! Don't swear, I won't believe you! And it would be so stupid . . . No, better let's part nicely, because I'm a dreamer myself, there'd be no use! As if I haven't dreamed of you myself? You're right about that, I dreamed for a long time, still in the country, where he kept me for five years, completely alone, I used to think and think, dream and dream—

and I kept imagining someone like you, kind, honest, good, and as silly as you are, who would suddenly come and say, 'You're not guilty, Nastasya Filippovna, and I adore you!' And I sometimes dreamed so much that I'd go out of my mind . . . And then this one would come: he'd stay for two months a year, dishonor me, offend me, inflame me, debauch me, leave me—a thousand times I wanted to drown myself in the pond, but I was base, I had no courage—well, but now . . . Rogozhin, are you ready?"

"Ready! Keep away!"

"Ready!" several voices rang out.

"The troikas are waiting with their little bells!"

Nastasya Filippovna snatched up the packet with both hands.

"Ganka, I've got an idea: I want to reward you, because why should you lose everything? Rogozhin, will he crawl to Vassilievsky Island for three roubles?"

"He will!"

"Well, then listen, Ganya, I want to look at your soul for the last time; you've been tormenting me for three long months; now it's my turn. Do you see this packet? There's a hundred thousand in it! I'm now going to throw it into the fireplace, onto the fire, before everyone, all these witnesses! As soon as it catches fire all over, go into the fireplace, only without gloves, with your bare hands, with your sleeves rolled up, and pull the packet out of the fire! If you pull it out, it's yours, the whole hundred thousand is yours! You'll only burn your fingers a little—but it's a hundred thousand, just think! It won't take long to snatch it out! And I'll admire your soul as you go into the fire after my money. They're all witnesses that the packet will be yours! And if you don't get it out, it will burn; I won't let anyone else touch it. Stand back! Everybody! It's my money! I got it for a night with Rogozhin. Is it my money, Rogozhin?"

"Yours, my joy! Yours, my queen!"

"Well, then everybody stand back, I do as I like! Don't interfere! Ferdyshchenko, stir up the fire."

"Nastasya Filippovna, my hands refuse to obey!" the flabbergasted Ferdyshchenko replied.

"Ahh!" Nastasya Filippovna cried, seized the fire tongs, separated two smoldering logs, and as soon as the fire blazed up, threw the packet into it.

A cry was heard all around; many even crossed themselves.

"She's lost her mind, she's lost her mind!" they cried all around.

"Maybe .. . maybe we should tie her up?" the general whispered to Ptitsyn. "Or send for . . . she's lost her mind, hasn't she? Lost her mind?"

"N-no, this may not be entirely madness," Ptitsyn whispered, pale as a sheet and trembling, unable to tear his eyes from the packet, which was beginning to smolder.

"She's mad, isn't she? Isn't she mad?" the general pestered Totsky.

"I told you she was a colorful woman," murmured Afanasy Ivanovich, also gone somewhat pale.

"But, after all, it's a hundred thousand! . . ."

"Lord, Lord!" was heard on all sides. Everyone crowded around the fireplace, everyone pushed in order to see, everyone exclaimed . . . Some even climbed onto chairs to look over the heads. Darya Alexeevna ran to the other room and exchanged frightened whispers with Katya and Pasha about something. The German beauty fled.

"Dearest lady! Queen! Almighty one!" Lebedev screamed, crawling on his knees before Nastasya Filippovna and reaching out towards the fireplace. "A hundred thousand! A hundred thousand! I saw it myself, I was there when they wrapped it! Dearest lady! Merciful one! Order me into the fireplace: I'll go all the way in, I'll put my whole gray head into the fire! ... A crippled wife, thirteen children—all orphaned, I buried my father last week, he sits there starving, Nastasya Filippovna!!" and, having screamed, he began crawling into the fireplace.

"Away!" cried Nastasya Filippovna, pushing him aside. "Step back, everybody! Ganya, what are you standing there for? Don't be ashamed! Go in! It's your lucky chance!"

But Ganya had already endured too much that day and that evening, and was not prepared for this last unexpected trial. The crowd parted into two halves before him, and he was left face to face with Nastasya Filippovna, three steps away from her. She stood right by the fireplace and waited, not tearing her burning, intent gaze from him. Ganya, in a tailcoat, his hat and gloves in his hand, stood silent and unresponding before her, his arms crossed, looking at the fire. An insane smile wandered over his face, which was pale as a sheet. True, he could not take his eyes off the fire, off the smoldering packet; but it seemed something new had arisen in his soul; it was as if he had sworn to endure the torture; he did not budge from the spot; in a few moments it became clear to everyone that he would not go after the packet, that he did not want to.