"And add that in my circumstances I have a lot to think about, so that I'm surprised myself that I've been unable to tear myself away from that repulsive physiognomy all evening!"
"He has a handsome face . . ."
"There, there, look!" cried Evgeny Pavlovich, pulling the prince's arm. "There! . . ."
The prince again looked Evgeny Pavlovich over with surprise.
V
Ippolit, who towards the end of Lebedev's dissertation had suddenly fallen asleep on the sofa, now suddenly woke up, as if someone had nudged him in the side, gave a start, sat up, looked around, and turned pale; he looked around even in a sort of fright; but horror almost showed in his face when he recalled and understood everything.
"What, they're going home? Is it over? Is it all over? Has the sun risen?" he asked in alarm, seizing the prince's hand. "What time is it? For God's sake, what time? I've overslept. Did I sleep long?" he added with an almost desperate look, as if he had slept through something on which at least his whole destiny depended.
"You slept for seven or eight minutes," Evgeny Pavlovich replied.
Ippolit looked at him greedily and pondered for a few moments.
"Ah . . . that's all! So, I . . ."
And he drew his breath deeply and greedily, as if throwing off
an immense burden. He finally realized that nothing was "over," that it was not dawn yet, that the guests had gotten up from the table only to have a snack, and that the only thing that was over was Lebedev's babble. He smiled, and a consumptive flush in the form of two bright spots played on his cheeks.
"So you've been counting the minutes while I slept, Evgeny Pavlych," he picked up mockingly. "You haven't torn yourself away from me all evening, I saw . . . Ah! Rogozhin! I just saw him in a dream," he whispered to the prince, frowning and nodding towards Rogozhin, who was sitting by the table. "Ah, yes," he again skipped on suddenly, "where is the orator, where is Lebedev? So Lebedev's finished? What was he talking about? Is it true, Prince, that you once said 'beauty' would save the world? Gentlemen," he cried loudly to them all, "the prince insists that beauty will save the world! And I insist that he has such playful thoughts because he's in love now. Gentlemen, the prince is in love; as soon as he came in today, I was convinced of it. Don't blush, Prince, or I'll feel sorry for you. What beauty will save the world? Kolya told me what you said . . . Are you a zealous Christian? Kolya says you call yourself a Christian."
The prince studied him attentively and did not answer.
"You don't answer me? Maybe you think I love you very much?" Ippolit suddenly added, as if breaking off.
"No, I don't think so. I know you don't love me."
"What? Even after yesterday? Wasn't I sincere with you yesterday?"
"Yesterday, too, I knew you didn't love me."
"Because I envy you, envy you, is that it? You've always thought so and you think so now, but . . . but why am I telling you that? I want more champagne; pour me some, Keller."
"You shouldn't drink more, Ippolit, I won't let you . . ."
And the prince moved the glass away from him.
"In fact. . ." he agreed at once, as if pondering, "they might say . . . ah, what the devil do I care what they say! Isn't it true, isn't it true? Let them talk afterwards, right, Prince? As if it's any of our business what happens afterwards! . . .Anyhow, I'm still not quite awake. I had a terrible dream. I've just remembered it ... I don't wish you such dreams, Prince, though maybe I actually don't love you. Anyhow, if you don't love someone, why wish him ill, isn't it true? See how I keep asking, asking all the time! Give me your hand; I'll press it firmly, like this . . . You do still give me your
hand, though? Does that mean you know I'm sincere? . . . Maybe I won't drink anymore. What time is it? Never mind, though, I know what time it is. The hour has come! It's just the right time. What, they've put out the food in the corner? So this table is free? Excellent! Gentlemen, I . . . however, these gentlemen are not all listening . ., I intend to read an article, Prince; food is, of course, more interesting, but . . ."
And suddenly, quite unexpectedly, he pulled from his upper side pocket a big, official-sized envelope, sealed with a big red seal. He placed it on the table in front of him.
This unexpectedness had an effect on the company, which was unprepared for it, or, better, was prepared,but not for that. Evgeny Pavlovich even jumped in his chair; Ganya quickly moved to the table; Rogozhin did the same, but with a sort of gruff vexation, as if he knew what it was about. Lebedev, who happened to be near by, came closer with his curious little eyes and gazed at the envelope, trying to guess what it was about.
"What have you got there?" the prince asked uneasily.
"With the first little rim of the sun, I'll lie down, Prince, I told you that; on my word of honor: you'll see!" cried Ippolit. "But . . . but . . . can you possibly think I'm not capable of opening this envelope?" he added, passing his gaze over them all with a sort of defiance, and as if addressing them all indiscriminately. The prince noticed that he was trembling all over.
"None of us thinks that," the prince answered for everyone, "and why do you think that anyone has such an idea, and what. . . what has given you this strange idea of reading? What is it you've got there, Ippolit?"
"What is it? Has something happened to him again?" they asked all around. Everyone came closer, some still eating; the envelope with the red seal attracted them all like a magnet.
"I wrote it myself yesterday, right after I gave you my word that I'd come and live with you, Prince. I spent all day yesterday writing it, then last night, and finished it this morning. Last night, towards morning, I had a dream ..."
"Wouldn't it be better tomorrow?" the prince interrupted timidly.
"Tomorrow 'there will be no more time!'" 13Ippolit chuckled hysterically. "Don't worry, however, I can read it through in forty minutes . . . well, in an hour . . . And you can see how interested everyone is; everyone came over; everyone is looking at my seal; if I hadn't sealed the article in an envelope, there would have been
no effect! Ha, ha! That's what mysteriousness means! Shall I open it, gentlemen, or not?" he cried, laughing his strange laugh and flashing his eyes. "A mystery! A mystery! And do you remember, Prince, who it was who announced that 'there will be no more time'? A huge and powerful angel in the Apocalypse announces it."
"Better not read it!" Evgeny Pavlovich suddenly exclaimed, but with an air of uneasiness so unexpected in him that many found it strange.
"Don't read it!" the prince, too, cried, putting his hand on the envelope.
"What's this about reading? Right now we're eating," somebody observed.
"An article? For a magazine, or what?" inquired another.
"Maybe it's boring?" added a third.
"What have you got?" inquired the rest. But the prince's frightened gesture seemed to frighten Ippolit himself.
"So ... I shouldn't read it?" he whispered somehow fearfully to the prince, with a crooked smile on his blue lips. "I shouldn't read it?" he murmured, passing his gaze over all the public, all the eyes and faces, and as if again snatching at everything with his former, almost aggressive expansiveness. "Are you . . . afraid?" he turned to the prince again.
"Of what?" the latter asked, changing countenance more and more.
"Does anybody have a twenty-kopeck piece?" Ippolit suddenly jumped up from his chair as if he had been pulled from it. "A coin of any kind?"
"Here!" Lebedev offered at once; the thought flashed in him that the sick Ippolit had gone crazy.