"That's incredible!"
"Well, all right, so it's incredible; anyhow, where could you find out from? Though here a fly flies by and everybody knows: it's that kind of little place! I've warned you, however, and you can be grateful to me. Well, good-bye—see you in the other world, most likely. And here's another thing: even though I acted meanly towards you, because . . . why should I lose what's mine, kindly tell me? For your benefit, or what? I dedicated my 'Confession' to her (you didn't know that?). Yes, and how she accepted it! Heh, heh! But I've never behaved meanly towards her, I'm not guilty of anything before her; it was she who disgraced me and let me down . . . And, incidentally, I'm not guilty of anything before you either; if I did make mention of those 'leavings' and all the rest in the same sense, to make up for it I'm now telling you the day, and the hour, and the address of the meeting, and revealing this whole game to you . . . out of vexation, naturally, and not out of magnanimity. Good-bye, I'm talkative, like a stammerer or a consumptive; watch out, take measures, and quickly, if you're worthy to be called a human being. The meeting is this evening, that's certain."
Ippolit went to the door, but the prince called out to him, and he stopped in the doorway.
"So, Aglaya Ivanovna, in your opinion, will go herself this evening to see Nastasya Filippovna?" the prince asked. Red spots appeared on his cheeks and forehead.
"I don't know exactly, but probably so," Ippolit answered, glancing over his shoulder. "And anyhow it can't be otherwise. Can Nastasya Filippovna go to her? And not to Ganechka's
either; he's almost got himself a dead man there. That general's something, eh?"
"It's impossible for that alone!" the prince picked up. "How could she leave, even if she wanted to? You don't know . . . the ways of that house: she can't leave by herself and go to see Nastasya Filippovna; it's nonsense!"
"You see, Prince: nobody jumps out of windows, but if the house is on fire, then the foremost gentleman and the foremost lady might up and jump out of the window. If the need comes along, there's no help for it, our young lady will go to Nastasya Filippovna. Don't they let them go out anywhere, those young ladies?"
"No, that's not what I . . ."
"If it's not that, then she only has to go down the front steps and walk straight off, and then she may not even come back. There are occasions when one may burn one's boats, and one may even not come back: life doesn't consist only of lunches and dinners and Princes Shch. It seems to me that you take Aglaya Ivanovna for some sort of young lady or boarding-school girl; I talked to her about that; it seems she agreed. Expect it at seven or eight ... If I were you, I'd send somebody to keep watch there, to catch the moment when she goes down the front steps. Well, you could even send Kolya; he'd be very pleased to do some spying, rest assured— for you, that is . . . because everything's relative . . . Ha, ha!"
Ippolit left. The prince had no cause to ask anyone to spy, even if he were capable of it. Aglaya's order to stay at home was now almost explained: perhaps she wanted to take him along. True, it might be that she precisely did not want him to end up there, and that was why she told him to stay home . . . That, too, could be. His head was spinning; the whole room whirled around. He lay down on the sofa and closed his eyes.
One way or the other, the matter was decisive, definitive. No, the prince did not consider Aglaya a young lady or a boarding-school girl; he felt now that he had long been afraid, and precisely of something like this; but why did she need to see her? A chill ran through his whole body; again he was in a fever.
No, he did not consider her a child! Lately, certain of her looks, certain of her words had horrified him. Sometimes it had seemed to him as if she was restraining herself, holding herself back too much, and he remembered that this had frightened him. True, for all those days he had tried not to think of it, had driven the painful thoughts away, but what was hidden in that soul? This question
had long tormented him, though he trusted in that soul. And here it all had to be resolved and revealed today. A terrible thought! And again—"that woman!" Why had it always seemed to him that that woman would appear precisely at the very last minute and snap his whole destiny like a rotten thread? He was ready to swear now that it had always seemed so to him, though he was almost semidelirious. If he had tried to forget about herlately, it was solely because he was afraid of her. What then: did he love that woman or hate her? That question he had never once asked himself today; here his heart was pure: he knew whom he loved . . . He was afraid, not so much of the meeting of the two women, not of the strangeness, not of the reason for the meeting, which he did not know, not of its outcome, whatever it might be—he was afraid of Nastasya Filippovna herself. He remembered afterwards, a few days later, that almost all the time during those feverish hours he pictured to himself her eyes, her gaze, heard her words—some sort of strange words, though little stayed in his memory after those feverish and anguished hours. He barely remembered, for instance, how Vera brought him dinner and he ate it; he did not remember whether he slept after dinner or not. He knew only that he began to make everything out clearly that evening only from the moment when Aglaya suddenly came to his terrace and he jumped up from the sofa and went to meet her in the middle of the room: it was a quarter past seven. Aglaya was quite alone, dressed simply and as if in haste in a light cloak. Her face was as pale as in the morning, and her eyes flashed with a bright, dry glint; he had never known her to have such an expression of the eyes. She looked him over attentively.
"You're all ready," she observed softly and as if calmly, "you're dressed and have your hat in your hand; that means someone warned you, and I know who: Ippolit?"
"Yes, he told me . . ." the prince murmured, nearly half dead.
"Let's go, then: you know that you absolutely must accompany me. I suppose you're strong enough to go out?"
"Yes, I am, but . . . can this be possible?"
He broke off after a moment and could not utter anything more. This was his only attempt to stop the crazy girl, and after that he followed her like a slave. However clouded his thoughts were, he still understood that she would go thereeven without him, and therefore he had to follow her in any case. He guessed the strength of her resolve; it was not for him to stop this wild impulse. They
walked in silence, hardly saying a single word all the way. He only noticed that she knew the way well, and when he wanted to make a detour through a further lane, because the way was more deserted there, and he suggested it to her, she listened as if straining her attention, and answered curtly: "It makes no difference!" When they had almost come right up to Darya Alexeevna's house (a large and old wooden house), a magnificent lady and a young girl were stepping off the porch; laughing and talking loudly, the two got into a splendid carriage that was waiting at the porch and did not glance even once at the approaching people, as if they did not notice them. As soon as the carriage drove off, the door immediately opened again, and the waiting Rogozhin let the prince and Aglaya in and locked the door behind them.