"Then why was there such noise and shouting earlier from the very first word, if you wanted it that way!" the prince was astonished.

"And concerning the article, Prince," the boxer put in, terribly anxious to stick in something of his own and feeling pleasantly lively (one might suspect that the presence of the ladies had a visible and strong effect on him), "concerning the article, I confess that I am indeed the author, though my ailing friend, whom I am accustomed to forgive because of his weakness, has just criticized it. But I did write it and published it in my good friend's magazine, as correspondence. Only the verses are actually not mine, and actually came from the pen of a famous humorist. The only one I read it to was Burdovsky, and not all of it at that, and I at once got his agreement to publish it, though you must agree that I could have published it even without his agreement. Publicity is a universal right, noble and beneficial. I hope that you yourself, Prince, are progressive enough not to deny that ..."

"I won't deny anything, but you must agree that in your article ..."

"Sharp, you want to say? But it's a question, so to speak, of the benefit of society, you must agree, and, finally, was it possible to miss such a provocative occasion? So much the worse for the guilty ones, but the benefit of society comes before all else. As for certain imprecisions, hyperboles, so to speak, you must also agree that the initiative is important before all else, the goal and intention before all else; what's important is the beneficent example, and after that we can analyze particular cases, and, finally, it's a question of style, a question, so to speak, of a humoristic task, and, finally—everybody writes like that, you must agree! Ha, ha!"

"But you're on a completely false track! I assure you, gentlemen," the prince cried, "you published your article on the assumption that I would never agree to satisfy Mr. Burdovsky, and so you

wanted to frighten me for that and be revenged somehow. But how do you know: maybe I've decided to satisfy Mr. Burdovsky. I tell you directly now, in front of everyone, that I will satisfy ..."

"Here at last is an intelligent and noble word from an intelligent and most noble man!" the boxer proclaimed.

"Lord!" escaped from Lizaveta Prokofyevna.

"This is unbearable!" muttered the general.

"Allow me, gentlemen, allow me, I will explain the matter," the prince entreated. "About five weeks ago, Mr. Burdovsky, your agent and solicitor, Chebarov, came to see me in Z-------. You describe him very flatteringly in your article, Mr. Keller," the prince, laughing suddenly, turned to the boxer, "but I didn't like him at all. I only understood from the first that this Chebarov was the chief thing and that it may have been he who prompted you to start all this, Mr. Burdovsky, taking advantage of your simplicity, if I may speak frankly."

"You have no right. . . I . . . not simple . . . that. . ." Burdovsky babbled in agitation.

"You have no right to make such assumptions," Lebedev's nephew intervened didactically.

"That is highly insulting!" shrieked Ippolit. "It's an insulting, false, and inappropriate assumption!"

"Sorry, gentlemen, sorry," the prince hastily apologized, "please forgive me; it's because I thought it would be better for us to be completely sincere with each other; but let it be as you will. I told Chebarov that, as I was not in Petersburg, I would immediately entrust a friend of mine with the conduct of this affair, and you, Mr. Burdovsky, will be informed of that. I'll tell you directly, gentlemen, that this seemed to me a most crooked affair, precisely because of Chebarov . . . Ah, don't be offended, gentlemen! For God's sake, don't be offended!" the prince cried fearfully, again seeing expressions of offended confusion in Burdovsky, of agitation and protest in his friends. "It cannot concern you personally if I say that I considered this a crooked affair! I didn't know any of you personally then, and didn't know your last names; I judged only by Chebarov. I'm speaking in general, because . . . if you only knew how terribly people have deceived me since I got my inheritance!"

"You're terribly naive, Prince," Lebedev's nephew observed mockingly.

"And with all that—a prince and a millionaire! With your maybe

indeed kind and somewhat simple heart, you are, of course, still unable to avoid the general law," Ippolit proclaimed.

"That may be, that very well may be, gentlemen," the prince hurried, "though I don't understand what general law you're talking about; but I'll continue, only don't get offended for nothing; I swear I haven't the slightest wish to offend you. And what in fact is this, gentlemen: it's impossible to say a single sincere word, or you get offended at once! But, first of all, I was terribly struck that 'Pavlishchev's son' existed, and existed in such terrible conditions as Chebarov explained to me. Pavlishchev was my benefactor and my father's friend. (Ah, what made you write such an untruth about my father in your article, Mr. Keller? There was no embezzlement of company funds, nor any offending of subordinates—I'm positively sure of that, and how could you raise your hand to write such slander?) And what you wrote about Pavlishchev is absolutely unbearable: you call that noblest of men lascivious and frivolous, so boldly, so positively, as if you were indeed telling the truth, and yet he was the most chaste man in the world! He was even a remarkable scholar; he corresponded with many respected men of science and contributed a great deal of money to science. As for his heart, his good deeds, oh, of course, you have correctly written that I was almost an idiot at that time and could understand nothing (though I did speak Russian and could understand it), but I can well appreciate all that I now remember . . ."

"Excuse me," shrieked Ippolit, "but isn't this a bit too sentimental? We're not children. You wanted to get straight to business, it's past nine, remember that."

"If you please, if you please, gentlemen," the prince agreed at once. "After my initial distrust, I decided that I might be mistaken and that Pavlishchev might actually have a son. But I was terribly struck that this son should so easily, that is, I mean to say, so publicly reveal the secret of his birth and, above all, disgrace his mother. Because Chebarov had already frightened me with publicity then . . ."

"How stupid!" Lebedev's nephew cried.

"You have no right . . . you have no right!" cried Burdovsky.

"A son isn't answerable for his father's depraved conduct, and the mother is not to blame," Ippolit shrieked vehemently.

"The sooner, it seems, she should be spared . . ." the prince said timidly.

"You're not only naive, Prince, but maybe even more far gone," Lebedev's nephew grinned spitefully.

"And what right did you have! . . ." Ippolit shrieked in a most unnatural voice.

"None, none at all!" the prince hastily interrupted. "You're right about that, I admit, but it was involuntary, and I said to myself at once just then that my personal feelings shouldn't have any influence on the affair, because if I acknowledge it as my duty to satisfy Mr. Burdovsky's demands in the name of my feelings for Pavlishchev, then I must satisfy them in any case, that is, regardless of whether or not I respect Mr. Burdovsky. I began to speak of it, gentlemen, only because it did seem unnatural to me that a son should reveal his mother's secret so publicly ... In short, that was mainly why I was convinced that Chebarov must be a blackguard and must have prompted Mr. Burdovsky, by deceit, to such crookedness."