How so?" Gavrila Ardalionovich said in sly astonishment, venomously preparing to set forth his conclusion.
"First, Mr. Burdovsky can now be fully certain that Mr. Pavlishchev loved him out of magnanimity and not as a son.
It was necessary that Mr. Burdovsky learn at least this one fact, since he confirmed and approved of Mr. Keller after the reading of the article.
I say this, Mr. Burdovsky, because I consider you a noble man.
Second, it turns out that there was no thievery or crookedness here even on Chebarov's part; this is an important point even for me, because just now the prince, being overexcited, mentioned that I was supposedly of the same opinion about the thievery and crookedness in this unfortunate affair.
Here, on the contrary, there was full conviction on all sides, and though Chebarov may be a great crook, in this affair he comes out as no more than a pettifogger, a scrivener, a speculator.
He hoped to make big money as a lawyer, and his calculation was not only subtle and masterful, but also most certain: he based it on the ease with which the prince gives money away and on his gratefully respectful feeling for the late Pavlishchev; he based it, finally (which is most important), on certain chivalrous views the prince holds concerning the duties of honor and conscience.
As far as Mr. Burdovsky himself is concerned, it may even be said that, owing to certain convictions of his, he was so set up by Chebarov and the company around him that he started the affair almost not out of self-interest at all, but almost in the service of truth, progress, and mankind.
Now that these facts have been made known, it must be clear to everyone that Mr. Burdovsky is a pure man, despite all appearances, and now the prince can, the sooner and all the more willingly than before, offer him both his friendly assistance and the active help which he mentioned earlier, speaking about schools and Pavlishchev."
"Stop, Gavrila Ardalionovich, stop!" the prince cried in genuine alarm, but it was too late.
"I've said, I've already said three times," Burdovsky cried irritably, "that I don't want any money!
I won't accept . . . what for ... I don't want . . . away!"
And he nearly rushed off the terrace.
But Lebedev's nephew seized him by the arm and whispered something to him.
The man quickly came back and, taking a large unsealed envelope from his pocket, threw it down on a little table near the prince.
"Here's the money! . . .
You shouldn't have dared . . . you shouldn't have! . . .
Money! . . ."
"The two hundred and fifty roubles that you dared to send him as charity through Chebarov," Doktorenko explained.
"The article said fifty!" cried Kolya.
"I'm to blame!" said the prince, going up to Burdovsky. "I'm very much to blame before you, Burdovsky, but, believe me, I didn't send it as charity.
I'm to blame now ... I was to blame earlier." (The prince was very upset, he looked tired and weak, and his words were incoherent.) "I said that about crookedness . . . but it wasn't about you, I was mistaken.
I said that you . . . are like me— a sick man.
But you're not like me, you . . . give lessons, you support your mother.
I said you had disgraced your mother, but you love her; she says so herself ... I didn't know . . . Gavrila Ardalionovich didn't finish telling me . . . I'm to blame.
I dared to offer you ten thousand, but I'm to blame, I ought to have done it differently, and now ... it's impossible, because you despise me . . ."
"This is a madhouse!" Lizaveta Prokofyevna cried out.
"Of course, a house full of madmen!" Aglaya lost patience and spoke sharply, but her words were drowned in the general noise; everyone was talking loudly, everyone was arguing, some disputing, some laughing.
Ivan Fyodorovich Epanchin was in the utmost degree of indignation, and, with an air of offended dignity, was waiting for Lizaveta Prokofyevna.
Lebedev's nephew put in a last little word:
"Yes, Prince, you must be given credit, you're so good at exploiting your . . . hm, sickness (to put it decently); you managed to offer your friendship and money in such a clever form that it is now quite impossible for a noble man to accept them.
It's either all too innocent, or all too clever . . . you, however, know which."
"If you please, gentlemen," cried Gavrila Ardalionovich, who had meanwhile opened the envelope with the money, "there are not two hundred and fifty roubles here, but only a hundred.
I say it, Prince, so that there will be no misunderstandings."
"Let it be, let it be," the prince waved his arms at Gavrila Ardalionovich.
"No, don't 'let it be'!" Lebedev's nephew immediately latched on to it.
"Your 'let it be' is insulting to us, Prince.
We're not hiding, we declare openly: yes, there's only a hundred roubles here, and not the whole two hundred and fifty, but isn't it all the same . . ."
"N-no, it's not all the same," Gavrila Ardalionovich managed to put in, with a look of naive perplexity.
"Don't interrupt me, we're not such fools as you think, mister lawyer," Lebedev's nephew exclaimed with spiteful vexation. "Of course, a hundred roubles aren't two hundred and fifty, and it's not all the same, but what's important is the principle; it's the initiative that's important and the fact of the missing hundred and fifty roubles is merely a detail.
What's important is that Burdovsky does not accept charity from you, Your Highness, that he throws it in your face, and in this sense a hundred is the same as two hundred and fifty.
Burdovsky did not accept the ten thousand, you saw that; he wouldn't have brought the hundred roubles if he were dishonest!
Those hundred and fifty roubles were Chebarov's expenses for traveling to see the prince.
Sooner laugh at our clumsiness and our inexperience in handling the affair; you've already done all you could to make us look ridiculous; but do not dare to say we're dishonest.
All of us together will pay the prince back these hundred and fifty roubles, my dear sir; we will pay it back even if it's rouble by rouble, and we will pay it back with interest.
Burdovsky is poor, Burdovsky has no millions, and Chebarov presented the bill after his trip.
We hoped to win . . . Who would have acted differently in his place?"
"What do you mean who?" exclaimed Prince Shch.
"I'll go out of my mind here!" cried Lizaveta Prokofyevna.
"This reminds me," laughed Evgeny Pavlovich, who had long been standing and watching, "of a famous defense made recently by a lawyer, who, presenting poverty as an excuse for his client, who had murdered six people at one go in order to rob them, suddenly concluded along these lines: 'It is natural,' he says, 'that my client, out of poverty, should have taken it into his head to commit this murder of six people, and who in his place would not have taken it into his head?'