That's the riddle, what does she want? Is it to keep Evgenie to herself? But, my dear fellow, I swear to you, I swear he doesn't even KNOW her, and as for those bills, why, the whole thing is an invention! And the familiarity of the woman! It's quite clear we must treat the impudent creature's attempt with disdain, and redouble our courtesy towards Evgenie. I told my wife so.
"Now I'll tell you my secret conviction. I'm certain that she's doing this to revenge herself on me, on account of the past, though I assure you that all the time I was blameless. I blush at the very idea. And now she turns up again like this, when Ithought she had finally disappeared! Where's Rogojin all this time? I thought she was Mrs. Rogojin, long ago."The old man was in a state of great mental perturbation. The whole of the journey, which occupied nearly an hour, he continued in this strain, putting questions and answering them himself, shrugging his shoulders, pressing the prince's hand, and assuring the latter that, at all events, he had no suspicion whatever of HIM. This last assurance was satisfactory, at all events. The general finished by informing him that Evgenie's uncle was head of one of the civil service departments, and rich, very rich, and a gourmand. "And, well, Heaven preserve him, of course--but Evgenie gets his money, don't you see? But, for all this, I'm uncomfortable, I don't know why. There's something in the air, Ifeel there's something nasty in the air, like a bat, and I'm by no means comfortable."And it was not until the third day that the formal reconciliation between the prince and the Epanchins took place, as said before.
XII.
IT was seven in the evening, and the prince was just preparing to go out for a walk in the park, when suddenly Mrs. Epanchin appeared on the terrace.
"In the first place, don't dare to suppose," she began, "that Iam going to apologize. Nonsense! You were entirely to blame."The prince remained silent.
"Were you to blame, or not?"
"No, certainly not, no more than yourself, though at first Ithought I was."
"Oh, very well, let's sit down, at all events, for I don't intend to stand up all day. And remember, if you say, one word about 'mischievous urchins,' I shall go away and break with you altogether. Now then, did you, or did you not, send a letter to Aglaya, a couple of months or so ago, about Easter-tide?""Yes!"
"What for? What was your object? Show me the letter." Mrs.
Epanchin's eyes flashed; she was almost trembling with impatience.
"I have not got the letter," said the prince, timidly, extremely surprised at the turn the conversation had taken. "If anyone has it, if it still exists, Aglaya Ivanovna must have it.""No finessing, please. What did you write about?""I am not finessing, and I am not in the least afraid of telling you; but I don't see the slightest reason why I should not have written.""Be quiet, you can talk afterwards! What was the letter about?
Why are you blushing?"
The prince was silent. At last he spoke.
"I don't understand your thoughts, Lizabetha Prokofievna; but Ican see that the fact of my having written is for some reason repugnant to you. You must admit that I have a perfect right to refuse to answer your questions; but, in order to show you that Iam neither ashamed of the letter, nor sorry that I wrote it, and that I am not in the least inclined to blush about it "(here the prince's blushes redoubled), "I will repeat the substance of my letter, for I think I know it almost by heart."So saying, the prince repeated the letter almost word for word, as he had written it.
"My goodness, what utter twaddle, and what may all this nonsense have signified, pray? If it had any meaning at all!" said Mrs.
Epanchin, cuttingly, after having listened with great attention.
"I really don't absolutely know myself; I know my feeling was very sincere. I had moments at that time full of life and hope.""What sort of hope?"
"It is difficult to explain, but certainly not the hopes you have in your mind. Hopes--well, in a word, hopes for the future, and a feeling of joy that THERE, at all events, I was not entirely a stranger and a foreigner. I felt an ecstasy in being in my native land once more; and one sunny morning I took up a pen and wrote her that letter, but why to HER, I don't quite know. Sometimes one longs to have a friend near, and I evidently felt the need of one then," added the prince, and paused.
"Are you in love with her?"
"N-no! I wrote to her as to a sister; I signed myself her brother.""Oh yes, of course, on purpose! I quite understand.""It is very painful to me to answer these questions, Lizabetha Prokofievna.""I dare say it is; but that's no affair of mine. Now then, assure me truly as before Heaven, are you lying to me or not?""No, I am not lying."
"Are you telling the truth when you say you are not in love?""I believe it is the absolute truth."
"'I believe,' indeed! Did that mischievous urchin give it to her?""I asked Nicolai Ardalionovitch . . ."
"The urchin! the urchin!" interrupted Lizabetha Prokofievna in an angry voice. "I do not want to know if it were Nicolai Ardalionovitch! The urchin!""Nicolai Ardalionovitch . . ."
"The urchin, I tell you!"
"No, it was not the urchin: it was Nicolai Ardalionovitch," said the prince very firmly, but without raising his voice.
"Well, all right! All right, my dear! I shall put that down to your account."She was silent a moment to get breath, and to recover her composure.
"Well!--and what's the meaning of the 'poor knight,' eh?""I don't know in the least; I wasn't present when the joke was made. It IS a joke. I suppose, and that's all.""Well, that's a comfort, at all events. You don't suppose she could take any interest in you, do you? Why, she called you an 'idiot' herself.""I think you might have spared me that," murmured the prince reproachfully, almost in a whisper.