Текст книги "The Idiot"
Автор книги: Федор Достоевский
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His presentiment came true. That evening he received a strange note, brief but resolute. The general informed him that he was also parting with him forever, that he respected him and was grateful to him, but that even from him he would not accept "tokens of compassion humiliating to the dignity of a man already unfortunate without that." When the prince heard that the old man had locked himself up at Nina Alexandrovna's, he almost stopped worrying about him. But we have already seen that the general had also caused some sort of trouble at Lizaveta Prokofyevna's. We cannot go into detail here, but will note briefly that the essence of their meeting consisted in the general's frightening Lizaveta Prokofyevna and driving her to indignation with his bitter allusions to Ganya. He had been led out in disgrace. That was why he had spent such a night and such a morning, had become definitively cracked and had rushed out to the street almost in a state of insanity.
Kolya did not fully understand the matter yet and even hoped to win out by severity.
"Well, where are we going to drag ourselves now, General?" he said. "You don't want to go to the prince, you've quarreled with Lebedev, you have no money, and I never have any: so here we are in the street without a shirt to our name."
"It's better than having a shirt and no name," the general murmured. "This pun of mine . . . was received with raptures . . . a company of officers ... in the year forty-four . . . Eighteen . . . hundred . . . and forty-four, yes! ... I don't remember . . . Oh, don't remind me, don't remind me! 'Where is my youth, where is my freshness!' So exclaimed . . . Who exclaimed that, Kolya?"
"It's from Gogol, in Dead Souls, 21 papa," Kolya replied and gave his father a frightened sidelong glance.
"Dead souls! Oh, yes, dead! When you bury me, write on my tombstone: 'Here lies a dead soul!'
Disgrace pursues me!
Who said that, Kolya?"
"I don't know, papa."
"There was no Eropegov! No Eroshka Eropegov! . . ." he cried out in a frenzy, stopping in the street, "and that is my son, my own son! Eropegov, who for eleven months was like a brother to me, for whom I'd have gone to a duel . . . Prince Vygoretsky, our captain, says to him over a bottle: 'You, Grisha, where did you get your Anna, 22tell me that?' 'On the battlefields of my fatherland, that's where!' 'Bravo, Grisha!' I shout. Well, that led to a duel, and then he married . . . Marya Petrovna Su . . . Sutugin and was killed on the battlefield . . . The bullet ricocheted off the cross on my chest and hit him right in the forehead. 'I'll never forget!' he cried and fell on the spot. I ... I served honestly, Kolya; I served nobly, but disgrace—'disgrace pursues me'! You and Nina will come to my little grave . . . 'Poor Nina!' I used to call her that, Kolya, long ago, in the beginning, and she so loved . . . Nina, Nina! What have I done to your life! What can you love me for, patient soul! Your mother is an angelic soul, do you hear, Kolya, an angelic soul!"
"I know that, papa. Papa, dearest, let's go home to mama! She ran after us! Well, why are you standing there? As if you don't understand . . . What are you crying for?"
Kolya himself was crying and kissing his father's hands.
"You're kissing my hands, mine!"
"Yes, yours, yours. What's so surprising? Well, what are you doing howling in the middle of the street—and he calls himself a general, a military man! Well, come on!"
"God bless you, my dear boy, for showing respect to a disgraceful—yes! to a disgraceful old fellow, your father . . . may you also have such a son . . . le roi de Rome . . .Oh, 'a curse, a curse upon this house!' "
"But what is really going on here!" Kolya suddenly seethed. "What's the matter? Why don't you want to go back home now? What are you losing your mind for?"
"I'll explain, I'll explain it to you . . . I'll tell you everything;
don't shout, they'll hear you . . . le roi de Rome . . .Oh, I'm sick, I'm sad!
Nanny, where's your grave! 23
Who exclaimed that, Kolya?"
"I don't know, I don't know who exclaimed it! Let's go home right now, right now! I'll give Ganka a beating, if I have to . . . where are you going now?"
But the general was pulling him towards the porch of a nearby house.
"Where are you going? That's not our porch!"
The general sat down on the porch and kept pulling Kolya towards him by the hand.
"Bend down, bend down!" he murmured. "I'll tell you everything . . . disgrace . . . bend down . . . your ear, I'll tell it in your ear . . ."
"What's the matter!" Kolya was terribly frightened, but offered his ear anyway.
"Le roi de Rome . . ."the general whispered, also as if he were trembling all over.
"What? . . . What have you got to do with le roi de Rome?. . .Why?"
"I . . . I . . ." the general whispered again, clutching "his boy's" shoulder tighter and tighter, "I . . . want . . . I'll tell you . . . everything, Marya, Marya . . . Petrovna Su-su-su . . ."
Kolya tore himself free, seized the general by the shoulders, and looked at him like a crazy man. The old man turned purple, his lips became blue, small spasms kept passing over his face. Suddenly he bent over and quietly began to collapse onto Kolya's arm.
"A stroke!" the boy cried out for the whole street to hear, realizing at last what was wrong.
V
To tell the truth, Varvara Ardalionovna, in her conversation with her brother, had slightly exaggerated the accuracy of her information about the prince's proposal to Aglaya Epanchin. Perhaps, as a perspicacious woman, she had divined what was to happen in the near future; perhaps, being upset that her dream (which, in truth, she did not believe in herself) had been scattered like smoke, she, as a human being, could not deny herself the
pleasure of pouring more venom into her brother's heart by exaggerating the calamity, though, incidentally, she loved him sincerely and compassionately. In any case, she had not been able to get such accurate information from her friends, the Epanchin girls; there had been only hints, words unspoken, omissions, enigmas. And perhaps Aglaya's sisters had also let certain things slip on purpose, in order to find something out from Varvara Ardalionovna; and it might have been, finally, that they were unable to deny themselves the feminine pleasure of teasing a friend slightly, even a childhood one: it could not have been that in so long a time they had not glimpsed at least a small edge of her intentions.
On the other hand, the prince, too, though he was perfectly right in assuring Lebedev that there was nothing he could tell him and that precisely nothing special had happened to him, was also, perhaps, mistaken. In fact, something very strange seemed to have occurred with everyone: nothing had happened, and at the same time it was as if a great deal had happened. It was this last that Varvara Ardalionovna had divined with her sure feminine instinct.
How it happened, however, that everyone at the Epanchins' suddenly came up at once with one and the same notion that something major was occurring with Aglaya and that her fate was being decided—is very difficult to present in an orderly way. But this notion had no sooner flashed in everyone at once, than they all immediately insisted at once that they had perceived the whole thing long ago, and it had all been clearly foreseen; that it had all been clear since the "poor knight," and even before, only then they had not wanted to believe in such an absurdity. So the sisters insisted; and, of course, Lizaveta Prokofyevna had foreseen and known everything before everyone else, and she had long had "an aching heart," but—long or not—the notion of the prince now suddenly went too much against the grain, essentially because it disconcerted her. A question presented itself here that had to be resolved immediately; yet not only was it impossible to resolve it, but poor Lizaveta Prokofyevna could not even pose the question to herself with full clarity, try as she might. It was a difficult matter: "Was the prince good or not? Was the whole thing good or not? If it was not good (which was unquestionable), what precisely was not good about it? And if it was good (which was also possible), then, again, what was good about it?" The father of the family himself, Ivan Fyodorovich, was naturally the first to be surprised, but then suddenly confessed that "by God, he, too, had fancied
something of the sort all along; every now and then he suddenly seemed to fancy it!" He fell silent at once under the terrible gaze of his spouse, but he fell silent in the morning, while in the evening, alone with his spouse and forced to speak again, he suddenly and, as it were, with particular pertness, expressed several unexpected thoughts: "Though, essentially, what's wrong? . . ." (Silence.) "Of course, this is all very strange, provided it's true, and he doesn't dispute it, but. . ." (Again silence.) "And on the other hand, if you look at things directly, the prince is a wonderful fellow, by God, and . . . and, and—well, finally, the name, our family name, all this will have the look, so to speak, of an upholding of the family name, which has been lowered in the eyes of society, because, looked at from this point of view, that is, because ... of course, society; society is society; but still the prince is not without a fortune, even if it's only so much. He also has . . . and . . . and . . . and . . ." (A prolonged silence and a decided misfire.) Having listened to her spouse, Lizaveta Prokofyevna went completely overboard.
In her opinion, everything that had happened was "unpardonable and even criminal nonsense, a fantastic picture, stupid and absurd!" First of all there was the fact that "this wretched princeling is a sick idiot, second of all he's a fool, who neither knows society nor has any place in society: to whom can he be shown, where can he be tucked in? He's some sort of unpardonable democrat, without even the least rank, and . . . and . . . what will old Belokonsky say? And is this, is this the sort of husband we imagined and intended for Aglaya?" The last argument was, naturally, the most important. The mother's heart trembled at the thought, bled and wept, though at the same time something stirred in that heart which suddenly said to her: "And what makes the prince not the sort you want?" Well, it was these objections against her own heart that were most troublesome for Lizaveta Prokofyevna.
Aglaya's sisters for some reason liked the notion of the prince; it did not even seem very strange to them; in short, they might even suddenly turn out to be completely on his side. But they both decided to keep silent. It had been noted once and for all in the family that the more stubborn and persistent Lizaveta Prokofyevna's objections and retorts became, on some general and disputed family point, the more it could serve them all as a sign that she might be about to agree on that point. Alexandra Ivanovna, however, could never be completely silent. Having long since acknowledged her as her advisor, the mother constantly summoned
her now and asked for her opinions, and above all her memories– that is: "How had it all happened? Why had no one seen it? Why had there been no talk then? What had this nasty 'poor knight' signified then? Why was it that she, Lizaveta Prokofyevna, was the only one doomed to worry about everyone, to notice and foresee everything, while all the rest were merely—woolgathering?" etc., etc. Alexandra Ivanovna was cautious at first and only observed that she thought her father's idea was quite correct, that in the eyes of society the choice of Prince Myshkin as a husband for one of the Epanchin girls might appear very satisfactory. She gradually became excited and added that the prince was by no means a "little fool" and never had been, and as for his significance—God alone knew what the significance of a respectable man would consist of in our Russia a few years hence: success in the service, as used to be necessary, or something else? To all this the mother immediately rapped out that Alexandra was "a freethinker and that it was all their cursed woman question." Half an hour later she went to the city, and from there to Kamenny Island, in order to catch Princess Belokonsky, who, as if on purpose, happened to be in Petersburg just then, though she would be leaving soon. The princess was Aglaya's godmother.
"Old" Belokonsky listened to all the feverish and desperate confessions of Lizaveta Prokofyevna and was not touched in the least by the tears of the disconcerted mother of the family, but even looked at her mockingly. She was a terrible despot; in friendship, even an old friendship, she could not bear equality, and she decidedly looked upon Lizaveta Prokofyevna as her protégée, just as thirty-five years ago, and she simply could not be reconciled with the sharpness and independence of her character. She noticed, among other things, that "it seemed they had all rushed too far ahead there, as was their habit, and made a mountain out of a molehill; that listen as she might, she was not convinced that anything serious had actually happened; that it might be better to wait until something did; that the prince was, in her opinion, a respectable young man, though sick, strange, and much too insignificant. The worst thing was that he openly kept a woman." Lizaveta Prokofyevna realized very well that Belokonsky was a bit cross about the unsuccess of Evgeny Pavlovich, whom she had recommended. She returned home to Pavlovsk still more irritated than when she had left, and everyone immediately got it from her, above all because they had "lost their minds," because decidedly
nobody else did things the way they did them; and "what's the hurry? What has happened? However much I look at it, I can in no way conclude that anything has actually happened! Wait until something does! No matter what Ivan Fyodorovich may have fancied, are we going to make a mountain out of a molehill?" etc., etc. The result, therefore, was that they needed to calm down, watch cool-headedly, and wait. But, alas, the calm did not hold out for even ten minutes. The first blow to cool-headedness came from the news of what had happened while the mother absented herself to Kamenny Island. (Lizaveta Prokofyevna's trip took place the morning after the prince had come calling past midnight instead of before ten.) The sisters answered their mother's impatient questioning in great detail, and said, first of all, that "precisely nothing, it seemed, had happened while she was away," that the prince came, that Aglaya took a long time, half an hour, before coming out to him, and when she did come out, suggested at once that she and the prince play chess; that the prince did not know the first thing about chess, and Aglaya beat him at once; she became very merry and shamed the prince terribly for his lack of skill, and laughed at him terribly, so that the prince was a pity to see. Then she suggested that they play cards, a game of "fools." But here it turned out quite the opposite: the prince proved to be as good at "fools" as ... as a professor; he played masterfully; Aglaya cheated, put cards back, stole his own tricks before his very eyes, and all the same he left her each time as the "fool"; five times in a row. Aglaya flew into a rage, even quite forgot herself; she said so many impudent and sarcastic things to the prince that he even stopped laughing, and he turned quite pale when she told him, finally, that "she would not set foot in this room while he was sitting there, and that it was even shameless on his part to call on them, and in the night at that, past midnight, after all that had happened."She then slammed the door and left. The prince went out as if from a funeral, despite all their attempts to comfort him. Suddenly, fifteen minutes after the prince left, Aglaya came running down to the terrace from upstairs, and in such a hurry that she did not even wipe her eyes, which were wet with tears. She came running down because Kolya arrived and brought a hedgehog. They all started looking at the hedgehog; to their questions, Kolya explained that the hedgehog was not his, and that he was now walking with his comrade, another schoolboy, Kostya Lebedev, who had stayed outside and was embarrassed to come in because he was carrying
an axe; that they had bought both the hedgehog and the axe from a peasant they had met. The peasant was selling the hedgehog and took fifty kopecks for it, and then they persuaded him to sell the axe as well, because it was an opportunity, and also a very good axe. Here Aglaya suddenly began pestering Kolya terribly to sell her the hedgehog at once, turned inside out, even called Kolya "dear." Kolya would not agree for a long time, but finally gave in and called Kostya Lebedev, who indeed came in carrying the axe and feeling very embarrassed. But here it suddenly turned out that the hedgehog did not belong to them at all, but to a third boy, Petrov, who had given them money to buy Schlosser's History 24 from some fourth boy, who, being in need of money, was selling it at a bargain price; that they set out to buy Schlosser's History,but could not help themselves and bought the hedgehog, and therefore both the hedgehog and the axe belonged to that third boy, to whom they were now taking them in place of Schlosser's History.But Aglaya pestered them so much that they finally decided to sell her the hedgehog. As soon as Aglaya got the hedgehog, she put it into a wicker basket with Kolya's help, covered it with a napkin, and started asking Kolya to go at once and, without stopping anywhere, take the hedgehog to the prince on her behalf, with the request that he accept it as "a token of her profoundest respect." Kolya gladly agreed and promised to deliver it, but immediately began to pester her: "What was the meaning of the hedgehog and of such a present?" Aglaya replied that that was none of his business. He replied that he was sure it contained some allegory. Aglaya became angry and snapped at him that he was a little brat and nothing more. Kolya at once retorted that if it were not for his respect for the woman in her, and for his own convictions on top of it, he would immediately prove to her that he knew how to respond to such insults. It ended, however, with Kolya delightedly going all the same to deliver the hedgehog, and Kostya Lebedev running after him; Aglaya could not help herself and, seeing Kolya swinging the basket too hard, shouted behind him from the terrace: "Please, Kolya dearest, don't drop it!"—as if she had not just quarreled with him; Kolya stopped and, also as if he had not just been quarreling, shouted with great readiness: "No, I won't drop it, Aglaya Ivanovna. Be completely assured!" and ran on at breakneck speed. After that Aglaya laughed terribly and ran to her room extremely pleased, and then was very cheerful all day.
This news completely dumbfounded Lizaveta Prokofyevna. One
might wonder, why so? But such, evidently, was the mood she had come to. Her anxiety was aroused to the utmost degree, and above all—the hedgehog; what was the meaning of the hedgehog? Was it prearranged? Did it imply something? Was it some sort of sign? A telegram? What's more, poor Ivan Fyodorovich, who happened to be present at the interrogation, spoiled things completely with his answer. In his opinion, there was no telegram, and the hedgehog was "just a simple hedgehog—and perhaps also meant friendship, the forgetting of offenses, and reconciliation; in short, it was all a prank, but in any case innocent and pardonable."
Let us note parenthetically that he had guessed perfectly right. The prince, having returned home from seeing Aglaya, mocked and driven out by her, had been sitting for half an hour in the darkest despair, when Kolya suddenly arrived with the hedgehog. At once the sky cleared. It was as if the prince rose from the dead; he questioned Kolya, hanging on his every word, repeated his questions ten times, laughed like a child, and kept pressing the hands of the two laughing and bright-eyed boys. So it turned out that Aglaya had forgiven him, and the prince could go to see her again that very evening, and for him that was not only the main thing, but even everything.
"What children we still are, Kolya! and . . . and . . . how good it is that we're children!" he finally exclaimed in ecstasy.
"She's quite simply in love with you, Prince, that's all!" Kolya replied imposingly and with authority.
The prince blushed, but this time he said nothing, and Kolya only guffawed and clapped his hands; a minute later the prince, too, burst out laughing, and then right until evening he kept looking at his watch every five minutes, to see how much time had passed and how much remained till evening.
But her mood got the upper hand: Lizaveta Prokofyevna was finally unable to help herself and succumbed to a hysterical moment. Despite all the objections of her husband and daughters, she immediately sent for Aglaya, in order to put the ultimate question to her and get from her the most clear and ultimate answer. "So as to be done with it all at once, and get it off my shoulders, and never think of it again!" "Otherwise," she announced, "I won't survive till evening!" And only then did they all realize what a muddle things had been brought to. Apart from feigned astonishment, indignation, laughter, and mockery of the prince and all her questioners, they got nothing from Aglaya. Lizaveta Prokofyevna
took to her bed and came out only for tea, by which time the prince was expected. She awaited the prince with trepidation, and when he arrived she nearly had hysterics.
And the prince himself came in timidly, all but gropingly, with a strange smile, peeking into all their eyes and as if asking them all a question, because Aglaya again was not in the room, which alarmed him at once. That evening there were no outsiders, only members of the family. Prince Shch. was still in Petersburg on business connected with Evgeny Pavlovich's uncle. "If only he could happen by and say something," Lizaveta Prokofyevna pined for him. Ivan Fyodorovich sat with an extremely preoccupied air; the sisters were serious and, as if on purpose, silent. Lizaveta Prokofyevna did not know how to begin the conversation. In the end she suddenly produced an energetic denunciation of the railways and looked at the prince in decided defiance.
Alas! Aglaya did not come out, and the prince was perishing. Nearly babbling and at a loss, he expressed the opinion that it would be of great utility to repair the railways, but Adelaida suddenly laughed, and the prince was again annihilated. At that very moment Aglaya came in calmly and gravely, gave the prince a ceremonious bow, and solemnly took the most conspicuous place at the round table. She looked questioningly at the prince. Everyone realized that the resolution of all misunderstandings was at hand.
"Did you receive my hedgehog?" she asked firmly and almost crossly.
"I did," the prince replied, blushing and with a sinking heart.
"Then explain immediately what you think about it. It is necessary for my mother's peace and that of the whole family."
"Listen, Aglaya . . ." the general suddenly began to worry.
"This, this is beyond all limits!" Lizaveta Prokofyevna suddenly became frightened of something.
"There aren't any limits here, maman"the daughter replied sternly and at once. "Today I sent the prince a hedgehog, and I wish to know his opinion. What is it, Prince?"
"You mean my opinion, Aglaya Ivanovna?"
"Of the hedgehog."
"That is ... I think, Aglaya Ivanovna, that you want to know how I took . . . the hedgehog ... or, better to say, how I looked at . . . this sending ... of the hedgehog, that is ... in which case, I suppose that... in a word . . ."
He ran out of breath and fell silent.
"Well, you haven't said much," Aglaya paused for five seconds. "Very well, I agree to drop the hedgehog; but I'm very glad that I can finally put an end to all the accumulated misunderstandings. Allow me, finally, to learn from you yourself and personally: are you proposing to me or not?"
"Oh, Lord!" escaped Lizaveta Prokofyevna.
The prince gave a start and drew back; Ivan Fyodorovich was dumbstruck; the sisters frowned.
"Don't lie, Prince, tell the truth. On account of you, I'm hounded by strange interrogations; are there any grounds for those interrogations? Well?"
"I haven't proposed to you, Aglaya Ivanovna," said the prince, suddenly becoming animated, "but . . . you know yourself how much I love you and believe in you . . . even now ..."
"My question was: are you asking for my hand or not?"
"I am," the prince replied, his heart sinking.
A general and strong commotion followed.
"This is all not right, my dear friend," Ivan Fyodorovich said in great agitation, "this . . . this is almost impossible, if it's so, Glasha . . . Forgive me, Prince, forgive me, my dear! . . . Lizaveta Prokofyevna!" he turned to his wife for help. "We must . . . look into it . . ."
"I refuse, I refuse!" Lizaveta Prokofyevna waved her hands.
"Allow me to speak as well, maman;I also mean something in such a matter: the great moment of my destiny is being decided" (that is precisely how Aglaya put it), "and I myself want to know, and besides, I'm glad it's in front of everybody . . . Allow me to ask you, Prince, if you do 'nurture such intentions,' precisely how do you propose to ensure my happiness?"
"I don't really know how to answer you, Aglaya Ivanovna; there . . . what is there to say? And ... is there any need?"
"You seem to be embarrassed and breathless; rest a little and gather fresh strength; drink a glass of water; anyhow, tea will be served presently."
"I love you, Aglaya Ivanovna, I love you very much; I love only you and . . . don't joke, please, I love you very much."
"But, nevertheless, this is an important matter; we're not children, we must look positively . . . Take the trouble now to tell us, what does your fortune amount to?"
"Now, now, now, Aglaya. What are you doing! This is wrong, wrong ..." Ivan Fyodorovich muttered fearfully.
"A disgrace!" Lizaveta Prokofyevna whispered loudly.
"She's lost her mind!" Alexandra also whispered loudly.
"My fortune . . . meaning money?" the prince was surprised.
"Precisely."
"I ... I now have one hundred and thirty-five thousand," the prince murmured, turning red.
"That's all?" Aglaya was loudly and frankly surprised, not blushing in the least. "Anyhow, never mind; particularly if one is economical . . . Do you intend to enter the service?"
"I wanted to pass an examination to be a private tutor ..."
"Very appropriate; of course, it will increase our means. Do you plan to be a kammerjunker?"
"A kammerjunker? I've never imagined it, but. . ."
But here the two sisters, unable to help themselves, burst out laughing. Adelaida had long noticed in Aglaya's twitching features the signs of rapidly approaching and irrepressible laughter, which she had so far been holding back with all her might. Aglaya looked menacingly at the laughing sisters, but could not stand it a second longer and dissolved into the maddest, almost hysterical laughter; in the end she jumped up and ran out of the room.
"I just knew it was only for fun and nothing more!" cried Adelaida. "Right from the beginning, from the hedgehog."
"No, this I will not allow, I will not allow it!" Lizaveta Prokofyevna suddenly boiled over with anger and quickly rushed out in Aglaya's wake. The two sisters at once ran after her. The prince and the father of the family were left in the room.
"This, this . . . could you have imagined anything like it, Lev Nikolaich?" the general cried out sharply, evidently not understanding himself what he wanted to say. "No, speaking seriously, seriously?"
"I see that Aglaya Ivanovna was making fun of me," the prince replied sadly.
"Wait, brother; I'll go, but you wait. . . because . . . you at least explain to me, Lev Nikolaich, you at least: how did all this happen and what does it all mean, so to speak, as a whole? You'll agree, brother, I am her father, I am after all her father, which is why I don't understand a thing; so you at least explain it."
"I love Aglaya Ivanovna; she knows that and . . . has known it, I think, for a long time."
The general heaved his shoulders.
"Strange, strange . . . and you love her very much?"
"Yes, very much."
"Strange, strange, I find it all. That is, it's such a surprise and a blow that . . . You see, my dear, I'm not referring to your fortune (though I did expect that you had a bit more), but ... for me, my daughter's happiness . . . finally ... are you able, so to speak, to make that . . . happiness? And . . . and . . . what is it, a joke or the truth on her side? Not on yours, that is, but on her side?"
From behind the door came the voice of Alexandra Ivanovna: they were calling the father.
"Wait, brother, wait! Wait and think it over, and I'll be . . ." he said in haste and almost fearfully rushed off to Alexandra's call.
He found his wife and daughter in each other's arms and flooding each other with their tears. These were tears of happiness, tenderness, and reconciliation. Aglaya kissed her mother's hands, cheeks, lips; the two clung warmly to each other.
"Well, there, look at her, Ivan Fyodorych, she's quite herself now!" said Lizaveta Prokofyevna.
Aglaya turned her happy and tear-bathed little face from her mother's bosom, looked at her father, laughed loudly, jumped over to him, embraced him tightly, and kissed him several times. Then she rushed to her mother again and buried her face completely in her bosom, so that no one could see her, and at once began weeping again. Lizaveta Prokofyevna covered her with the end of her shawl.
"Well, what is it, what is it you're doing to us, cruel girl that you are after that!" she said, but joyfully now, as if she suddenly could breathe more freely.
"Cruel! yes, cruel!" Aglaya suddenly picked up. "Rotten! Spoiled! Tell papa that. Ah, but he's here. Papa, are you here? Listen!" she laughed through her tears.
