"How pale you've grown!" Aglaya suddenly became alarmed.
"Never mind; I didn't sleep enough; I feel weak, I... we actually did talk about you then, Aglaya."
"So it's true? You really could talk with her about meand . . . and . how could you love me, if you'd seen me only once?"
"I don't know how. In my darkness then I dreamed . . . perhaps I thought I'd seen a new dawn. I don't know how it was that you were the first one I thought of. I wrote you the truth then, that I didn't know. It was all only a dream, from the horror of that time ... I began to study then; I wouldn't have come back here for three years . . ."
"So you came for her sake?"
And something trembled in Aglaya's voice.
"Yes, for her sake."
Two minutes of gloomy silence passed on both sides. Aglaya got up from her place.
"If you say," she began in an unsteady voice, "if you yourself believe that this . . . your woman ... is insane, then I have nothing to do with her insane fantasies ... I ask you, Lev Nikolaevich, to take these three letters and throw them at her from me! And if she dares," Aglaya suddenly cried, "if she dares once more to send me even a single line, tell her that I will complain to my father, and she will be taken to the madhouse . . ."
The prince jumped up and stared in alarm at Aglaya's sudden rage; and all at once it was as if a mist fell before him . . .
"You can't feel that way . . . it's not true!" he murmured.
"It is true! True!" Aglaya cried, almost forgetting herself.
"What is true? How is it true?" a frightened voice was heard close by.
Before them stood Lizaveta Prokofyevna.
"It's true that I'm going to marry Gavrila Ardalionovich! That I love Gavril Ardalionovich and am eloping from the house with him tomorrow!" Aglaya fell upon her. "Do you hear? Is your curiosity satisfied? Are you pleased?"
And she ran home.
"No, my dear man, you're not leaving now," Lizaveta Prokofyevna
stopped the prince. "Do me a service, kindly come home and explain yourself to me . . . This is such a torment, and I didn't sleep all night as it is . . ." The prince followed after her.
IX
On entering her house, Lizaveta Prokofyevna stopped in the very first room; she could not go any further and lowered herself onto the couch, quite strengthless, forgetting even to invite the prince to sit down. It was a rather large room, with a round table in the middle, a fireplace, a multitude of flowers on what-nots by the windows, and with another glass door to the garden in the far wall. Adelaida and Alexandra came in at once, looking at the prince and their mother questioningly and with perplexity.
The girls usually got up at around nine o'clock in the country; only Aglaya, during the last two or three days, had taken to getting up a little earlier and going for a stroll in the garden, but all the same not at seven o'clock, but at eight or even a bit later. Lizaveta Prokofyevna, who indeed had not slept all night because of her various worries, got up at around eight o'clock, on purpose to meet Aglaya in the garden, supposing that she was already up; but she did not find her either in the garden or in her bedroom. At this point she became definitively alarmed and awakened her daughters. They learned from the maid that Aglaya Ivanovna had gone out to the park before seven. The girls smiled at this new fantasy of their fantastic little sister's and observed to their mama that if she went looking for her in the park, Aglaya might get angry, and that she was probably now sitting with a book on the green bench, which she had already spoken of three days ago and over which she had almost quarreled with Prince Shch., because he did not find anything special in the location of this bench. Coming upon the meeting and hearing her daughter's strange words, Lizaveta Prokofyevna was terribly frightened, for many reasons; but, now that she had brought the prince home with her, she felt cowardly at having begun the business: "Why shouldn't Aglaya have met and conversed with the prince in the park, even, finally, if it was a previously arranged meeting?"
"Don't imagine, my dear Prince," she finally pulled herself together, "that I've dragged you here today for an interrogation . . .
After yesterday evening, dear heart, I might not have wanted to meet you for a long time ..."
She faltered slightly.
"But all the same you'd like very much to know how Aglaya Ivanovna and I met today?" the prince finished quite calmly.
"Well, and what if I would!" Lizaveta Prokofyevna flared up at once. "I'm not afraid of speaking directly. Because I'm not offending anyone and have never wished to offend ..."
"Good heavens, even without any offense you naturally want to know; you're her mother. Aglaya Ivanovna and I met today by the green bench at exactly seven o'clock in the morning following her invitation yesterday. In her note yesterday evening, she informed me that she had to see me and speak to me about an important matter. We met and spent a whole hour discussing things of concern to Aglaya Ivanovna alone, and that is all."
"Of course it is all, my dear man, and without any doubt it is all," Lizaveta Prokofyevna pronounced with dignity.
"Splendid, Prince!" said Aglaya, suddenly coming into the room. "I thank you with all my heart for considering me unable to stoop to lying. Is that enough for you, maman,or do you intend to inquire further?"
"You know that up to now I have never had occasion to blush before you . .. though you might have been glad if I had," Lizaveta Prokofyevna replied didactically. "Good-bye, Prince; forgive me for having troubled you. And I hope you remain assured of my unfailing respect for you."
The prince bowed at once to both sides and silently went out. Alexandra and Adelaida smiled and whispered something to each other. Lizaveta Ivanovna gave them a stern look.
"It's only because the prince bowed so wonderfully, maman,"Adelaida laughed. "Sometimes he's a perfect sack, but now suddenly he's like . . . like Evgeny Pavlych."
"Delicacy and dignity are taught by one's own heart, not by a dancing master," Lizaveta Prokofyevna concluded sententiously and went to her rooms upstairs without even glancing at Aglaya.
When the prince returned home, at around nine o'clock, he found Vera Lukyanovna and the maid on the terrace. They were tidying and sweeping up together after yesterday's disorder.
"Thank God we finished before you came!" Vera said joyfully.
"Good morning. My head is spinning a little; I slept poorly; I'd like to sleep."
"Here on the terrace like yesterday? Very well. I'll tell everyone not to wake you up. Papa has gone somewhere."
The maid went out; Vera followed her, but then came back and worriedly went over to the prince.
"Prince, have pity on this . . . unfortunate boy; don't send him away today."
"I wouldn't do that for anything; it will be as he likes."
"He won't do anything now, and . . . don't be severe with him."
"Oh, no, why would I?"
"And . . . don't laugh at him; that's the most important thing."
"Oh, certainly not!"
"It's stupid of me to say that to a man like you," Vera blushed. "And though you're tired," she laughed, half turning to leave, "you have such nice eyes at this moment . . . happy eyes."
"Happy, really?" the prince asked with animation and laughed joyfully.
But Vera, simple-hearted and unceremonious as a young boy, suddenly became embarrassed, blushed all the more, and, still laughing, hastily left the room.