'there's a merchant named Trepalov there, bearded and rich, lives with his old wife, and no children, just canaries. They both have a passion for flowers, and he's got camellias.' 'Good heavens, there's no certainty there, what if he doesn't give you any?' 'I'll kneel down and grovel at his feet until he does, otherwise I won't leave!' 'When are you going?' 'Tomorrow at daybreak, five o'clock.' 'Well, God be with you!' And I'm so glad for him, you know; I go back to Ordyntsev's; finally, it's past one in the morning and I'm still like this, you know, in a reverie. I was about to go to bed when a most original idea suddenly occurred to me! I immediately make my way to the kitchen, wake up the coachman Savely, give him fifteen roubles, 'have the horses ready in half an hour!' Half an hour later, naturally, the dogcart is at the gate; Anfisa Alexeevna, I'm told, has migraine, fever, and delirium—I get in and go. Before five o'clock I'm in Ekshaisk, at the inn; I wait till daybreak, but only till daybreak; just past six I'm at Trepalov's. 'Thus and so, have you got any camellias? My dear, my heart and soul, help me, save me, I bow down at your feet!' The old man, I see, is tall, gray-haired, stern—a fearsome old man. 'No, no, never! I won't.' I flop down at his feet! I sprawl there like that! 'What's wrong, my dear man, what's wrong?' He even got frightened. 'It's a matter of a human life!' I shout to him. 'Take them, then, and God be with you.' What a lot of red camellias I cut! Wonderful, lovely—he had a whole little hothouse there. The old man sighs. I take out a hundred roubles. 'No, my dear man, kindly do not offend me in this manner.' 'In that case, my esteemed sir,' I say, 'give the hundred roubles to the local hospital, for the improvement of conditions and food.' 'Now that, my dear man, is another matter,' he says, 'good, noble, and pleasing to God. I'll give it for the sake of your health.' And, you know, I liked him, this Russian old man, Russian to the root, so to speak, de la vraie souche*Delighted with my success, I immediately set out on the way back; we made a detour to avoid meeting Petya. As soon as I arrived, I sent the bouquet in to Anfisa Alexeevna, who was just waking up. You can imagine the rapture, the gratitude, the tears of gratitude! Platon, yesterday's crushed and dead Platon, sobs on my breast. Alas! All husbands have been like that since the creation ... of lawful wedlock! I won't venture to add anything, except that Petya's affairs collapsed definitively after this episode. At first I thought he'd put a knife in me when he
*Of the true stock.
found out, I even prepared myself to face him, but what happened was something I wouldn't even have believed: a fainting fit, delirium towards evening, fever the next morning; he cried like a baby, had convulsions. A month later, having only just recovered, he asked to be sent to the Caucasus: decidedly out of a novel! He ended up by being killed in the Crimea. At that time his brother, Stepan Vorkhovskoy, commanded the regiment, distinguished himself. I confess, even many years later I suffered from remorse: why, for what reason, had I given him this blow? It would be another thing if I myself had been in love then. But it was a simple prank, out of simple dalliance, and nothing more. And if I hadn't snatched that bouquet from him, who knows, the man might be alive today, happy, successful, and it might never have entered his head to go and get himself shot at by the Turks."
Afanasy Ivanovich fell silent with the same solid dignity with which he had embarked on his story. It was noticed that Nastasya Filippovna's eyes flashed somehow peculiarly and her lips even twitched when Afanasy Ivanovich finished. Everyone glanced with curiosity at them both.
"Ferdyshchenko's been hoodwinked! Really hoodwinked! No, I mean really hoodwinked!" Ferdyshchenko cried out in a tearful voice, seeing that he could and should put in a word.
"And who told you not to understand things? Learn your lesson now from intelligent people!" Darya Alexeevna (an old and trusty friend and accomplice of Totsky's) snapped out to him all but triumphantly.
"You're right, Afanasy Ivanovich, this petit jeuis very boring, and we must end it quickly," Nastasya Filippovna offered casually. "I'll tell what I promised, and then let's all play cards."
"But the promised anecdote before all!" the general warmly approved.
"Prince," Nastasya Filippovna suddenly addressed him sharply and unexpectedly, "these old friends of mine, the general and Afanasy Ivanovich, keep wanting to get me married. Tell me what you think: should I get married or not? I'll do as you say."
Afanasy Ivanovich turned pale, the general was dumbfounded; everyone stared and thrust their heads forward. Ganya froze in his place.
"To ... to whom?" asked the prince in a sinking voice.
"To Gavrila Ardalionovich Ivolgin," Nastasya Filippovna went on as sharply, firmly, and distinctly as before.
Several moments passed in silence; the prince seemed to be trying hard but could not utter a word, as if a terrible weight were pressing on his chest.
"N-no . . . don't!" he whispered at last and tensely drew his breath.
"And so it will be! Gavrila Ardalionovich!" she addressed him imperiously and as if solemnly, "did you hear what the prince decided? Well, so that is my answer; and let this business be concluded once and for all!"
"Nastasya Filippovna!" Afanasy Ivanovich said in a trembling voice.
"Nastasya Filippovna!" the general uttered in a persuading and startled voice.
Everyone stirred and started.
"What's wrong, gentlemen?" she went on, peering at her guests as if in amazement. "Why are you all so aflutter? And what faces you all have!"
"But . . . remember, Nastasya Filippovna," Totsky murmured, faltering, "you gave your promise, quite voluntarily, and you might be a little sparing . . . I'm at a loss and . . . certainly embarrassed, but ... In short, now, at such a moment, and in front ... in front of people, just like that ... to end a serious matter with this petit jeu,a matter of honor and of the heart ... on which depends . . ."