"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-
lous return of his present, could, of course, be still more offended now by all these extraordinary eccentricities or, for instance, by the appearance of Rogozhin; then, too, even without that, a man like him had already condescended too much by resolving to sit down beside Ptitsyn and Ferdyshchenko; but what the power of passion could do, could also be overcome in the end by a feeling of responsibility, a sense of duty, rank, and importance, and generally of self-respect, so that Rogozhin and his company, in his excellency's presence at any rate, were impossible.
"Ah, General," Nastasya Filippovna interrupted him as soon as he turned to her with this announcement, "I forgot! But you may be sure that I foresaw your reaction. If it's offensive to you, I won't insist on keeping you, though I'd like very much to see precisely you at my side now. In any case, I thank you very much for your acquaintance and flattering attention, but if you're afraid . . ."
"Excuse me, Nastasya Filippovna," the general cried in a fit of chivalrous magnanimity, "to whom are you talking? I'll stay beside you now out of devotion alone, and if, for instance, there is any danger . . . What's more, I confess, I'm extremely curious. My only concern was that they might ruin the rugs or break something . . . And we could do very well without them, in my opinion, Nastasya Filippovna!"
"Rogozhin himself!" announced Ferdyshchenko.
"What do you think, Afanasy Ivanovich," the general managed to whisper quickly, "hasn't she gone out of her mind? Without any allegory, that is, in a real, medical sense, eh?"
"I told you, she has always been inclined to it," Afanasy Ivanovich slyly whispered back.
"And the fever along with it . . ."
Rogozhin's company was almost the same as earlier that day; the only additions were some little old libertine, once the editor of a