Half the tradespeople even were absent.
As for the men, in spite of the complete absence of all persons of consequence, there was still a crowd of them, but they made a doubtful and suspicious impression.
There were, of course, some quiet and respectful officers with their wives, some of the most docile fathers of families, like that secretary, for instance, the father of his seven daughters.
All these humble, insignificant people had come, as one of these gentlemen expressed it, because it was "inevitable."
But, on the other hand, the mass of free-and-easy people and the mass too of those whom Pyotr Stepanovitch and I had suspected of coming in without tickets, seemed even bigger than in the afternoon.
So far they were all sitting in the refreshment bar, and had gone straight there on arriving, as though it were the meeting-place they had agreed upon.
So at least it seemed to me.
The refreshment bar had been placed in a large room, the last of several opening out of one another. Here Prohoritch was installed with all the attractions of the club cuisine and with a tempting display of drinks and dainties.
I noticed several persons whose coats were almost in rags and whose get-up was altogether suspicious and utterly unsuitable for a ball. They had evidently been with great pains brought to a state of partial sobriety which would not last long; and goodness knows where they had been brought from, they were not local people.
I knew, of course, that it was part of Yulia Mihailovna's idea that the ball should be of the most democratic character, and that "even working people and shopmen should not be excluded if any one of that class chanced to pay for a ticket."
She could bravely utter such words in her committee with absolute security that none of the working people of our town, who all lived in extreme poverty, would dream of taking a ticket.
But in spite of the democratic sentiments of the committee, I could hardly believe that such sinister-looking and shabby people could have been admitted in the regular way.
But who could have admitted them, and with what object?
Lyamshin and Liputin had already been deprived of their steward's rosettes, though they were present at the ball, as they were taking part in the "literary quadrille." But, to my amazement, Liputin's place was taken by the divinity student, who had caused the greatest scandal at the matinee by his skirmish with Stepan Trofimovitch; and Lyamshin's was taken by Pyotr Stepanovitch himself. What was to be looked for under the circumstances?
I tried to listen to the conversation.
I was struck by the wildness of some ideas I heard expressed.
It was maintained in one group, for instance, that Yulia Mihailovna had arranged Liza's elopement with Stavrogin and had been paid by the latter for doing so.
Even the sum paid was mentioned.
It was asserted that she had arranged the whole fete with a view to it, and that that was the reason why half the town had not turned up at the ball, and that Lembke himself was so upset about it that "his mind had given way," and that, crazy as he was, "she had got him in tow."
There was a great deal of laughter too, hoarse, wild and significant.
Every one was criticising the ball, too, with great severity, and abusing Yulia Mihailovna without ceremony.
In fact it was disorderly, incoherent, drunken and excited babble, so it was difficult to put it together and make anything of it.
At the same time there were simple-hearted people enjoying themselves at the refreshment-bar; there were even some ladies of the sort who are surprised and frightened at nothing, very genial and festive, chiefly military ladies with their husbands.
They made parties at the little tables, were drinking tea, and were very merry.
The refreshment-bar made a snug refuge for almost half of the guests.
Yet in a little time all this mass of people must stream into the ballroom. It was horrible to think of it!
Meanwhile the prince had succeeded in arranging three skimpy quadrilles in the White Hall.
The young ladies were dancing, while their parents were enjoying watching them.
But many of these respectable persons had already begun to think how they could, after giving their girls a treat, get off in good time before "the trouble began."
Absolutely every one was convinced that it certainly would begin.
It would be difficult for me to describe Yulia Mihailovna's state of mind.
I did not talk to her though I went close up to her.
She did not respond to the bow I made her on entering; she did not notice me (really did not notice).
There was a painful look in her face and a contemptuous and haughty though restless and agitated expression in her eyes.
She controlled herself with evident suffering—for whose sake, with what object?
She certainly ought to have gone away, still more to have got her husband away, and she remained!
From her face one could see that her eyes were "fully opened," and that it was useless for her to expect any thing more.
She did not even summon Pyotr Stepanovitch (he seemed to avoid her; I saw him in the refreshment-room, he was extremely lively).
But she remained at the ball and did not let Andrey Antonovitch leave her side for a moment.
Oh, up to the very last moment, even that morning she would have repudiated any hint about his health with genuine indignation.
But now her eyes were to be opened on this subject too.
As for me, I thought from the first glance that Andrey Antonovitch looked worse than he had done in the morning.
He seemed to be plunged into a sort of oblivion and hardly to know where he was.
Sometimes he looked about him with unexpected severity—at me, for instance, twice.
Once he tried to say something; he began loudly and audibly but did not finish the sentence, throwing a modest old clerk who happened to be near him almost into a panic.
But even this humble section of the assembly held sullenly and timidly aloof from Yulia Mihailovna and at the same time turned upon her husband exceedingly strange glances, open and staring, quite out of keeping with their habitually submissive demeanour.
"Yes, that struck me, and I suddenly began to guess about Andrey Antonovitch," Yulia Mihailovna confessed to me afterwards.
Yes, she was to blame again!
Probably when after my departure she had settled with Pyotr Stepanovitch that there should be a ball and that she should be present she must have gone again to the study where Andrey Antonovitch was sitting, utterly "shattered" by the matinee; must again have used all her fascinations to persuade him to come with her.
But what misery she must have been in now!