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“A refined man, but--lost,” murmured the general.
“‘Oh, it was evident at the first glance,’ I said ironically, but not
intentionally so. ‘There are lots of people who come up from the provinces full
of hope, and run about town, and have to live as best they can.’

Yet all the others were similarly affected. The girls were uncomfortable and
ashamed. Lizabetha Prokofievna restrained her violent anger by a great effort;
perhaps she bitterly regretted her interference in the matter; for the present
she kept silence. The prince felt as very shy people often do in such a case; he
was so ashamed of the conduct of other people, so humiliated for his guests,
that he dared not look them in the face. Ptitsin, Varia, Gania, and Lebedeff
himself, all looked rather confused. Stranger still, Hippolyte and the “son of
Pavlicheff” also seemed slightly surprised, and Lebedeff’s nephew was obviously
far from pleased. The boxer alone was perfectly calm; he twisted his moustaches
with affected dignity, and if his eyes were cast down it was certainly not in
confusion, but rather in noble modesty, as if he did not wish to be insolent in
his triumph. It was evident that he was delighted with the article.

“No--never--nowhere! I’ve been at home all my life, corked up in a bottle; and
they expect me to be married straight out of it. What are you laughing at again?
I observe that you, too, have taken to laughing at me, and range yourself on
their side against me,” she added, frowning angrily. “Don’t irritate me--I’m bad
enough without that--I don’t know what I am doing sometimes. I am persuaded that
you came here today in the full belief that I am in love with you, and that I
arranged this meeting because of that,” she cried, with annoyance.

“No,” said the prince, “no, I do not love her. Oh! if you only knew with what
horror I recall the time I spent with her!”
“He is not in.”

“Wait a bit--I’ll make the bed, and you can lie down. I’ll lie down, too, and
we’ll listen and watch, for I don’t know yet what I shall do... I tell you
beforehand, so that you may be ready in case I--”

“But, look here, are you a great hand with the ladies? Let’s know that first?”
asked Rogojin.He was particularly anxious that this one day should be
passed--especially the evening--without unpleasantness between himself and his
family; and just at the right moment the prince turned up--“as though Heaven had
sent him on purpose,” said the general to himself, as he left the study to seek
out the wife of his bosom.

“Good God!” exclaimed Lizabetha Prokofievna involuntarily.

“But I tell you she is not in Pavlofsk! She’s in Colmina.”After a time it became
known that Totski had married a French marquise, and was to be carried off by
her to Paris, and then to Brittany.But one very curious fact was that all the
shame and vexation and mortification which he felt over the accident were less
powerful than the deep impression of the almost supernatural truth of his
premonition. He stood still in alarm--in almost superstitious alarm, for a
moment; then all mists seemed to clear away from his eyes; he was conscious of
nothing but light and joy and ecstasy; his breath came and went; but the moment
passed. Thank God it was not that! He drew a long breath and looked around.She
mechanically arranged her dress, and fidgeted uncomfortably, eventually changing
her seat to the other end of the sofa. Probably she was unconscious of her own
movements; but this very unconsciousness added to the offensiveness of their
suggested meaning.“I am rather young-looking, I know; but I am actually older
than I appear to be. I was ten or eleven in the year 1812. I don’t know my age
exactly, but it has always been a weakness of mine to make it out less than it
really is.”
“Do you wish me to beg pardon of this creature because she has come here to
insult our mother and disgrace the whole household, you low, base wretch?” cried
Varia, looking back at her brother with proud defiance.

“Perhaps then I am anxious to take advantage of my last chance of doing
something for myself. A protest is sometimes no small thing.”

“Sacrilege, certainly--certainly sacrilege,” said the latter.

Nastasia gazed at the prince in bewilderment. “Prince? He a Prince? Why, I took
him for the footman, just now, and sent him in to announce me! Ha, ha, ha, isn’t
that good!”

“Why, look at him--look at him now!”