I, of course, love kindness, and I respect Lizaveta Prokofyevna, but . . ."
The general went on for a long time in this vein, but his words were surprisingly incoherent.
It was obvious that he had been shaken and greatly confused by something he found incomprehensible in the extreme.
"For me there's no doubt that you have nothing to do with it," he finally spoke more clearly, "but don't visit us for a while, I ask you as a friend, wait till the wind changes.
As regards Evgeny Pavlych," he cried with extraordinary vehemence, "it's all senseless slander, a slander of slanders!
It's calumny, there's some intrigue, a wish to destroy everything and make us quarrel.
You see, Prince, I'm saying it in your ear: not a word has been said yet between us and Evgeny Pavlych, understand?
We're not bound by anything— but that word may be spoken, and even soon, perhaps even very soon!
So this was done to harm that! But why, what for—I don't understand!
An astonishing woman, an eccentric woman, I'm so afraid of her I can hardly sleep.
And what a carriage, white horses, that's chic, that's precisely what the French call chic!
Who from?
By God, I sinned, I thought the other day it was Evgeny Pavlych.
But it turns out that it can't be, and if it can't be, then why does she want to upset things?
That's the puzzle!
In order to keep Evgeny Pavlych for herself?
But I repeat to you, cross my heart, that he's not acquainted with her, and those promissory notes are a fiction!
And what impudence to shout 'dear' to him across the street!
Sheer conspiracy!
It's clear that we must reject it with contempt and double our respect for Evgeny Pavlych.
That is what I told Lizaveta Prokofyevna.
Now I'll tell you my most intimate thought: I'm stubbornly convinced that she's doing it to take personal revenge on me, remember, for former things, though I was never in any way guilty before her.
I blush at the very recollection.
Now she has reappeared again, and I thought she had vanished completely.
Where's this Rogozhin sitting, pray tell?
I thought she had long been Mrs. Rogozhin . . ."
In short, the man was greatly bewildered.
During the whole nearly hour-long trip he talked alone, asked questions, answered them himself, pressed the prince's hand, and convinced him of at least this one thing, that he had never thought of suspecting him of anything.
For the prince that was important.
He ended by telling about Evgeny Pavlych's uncle, the head of some office in Petersburg—"a prominent fellow, seventy years old, a viveur, a gastronome, and generally a whimsical old codger . . . Ha, ha!
I know he heard about Nastasya Filippovna and even sought after her.
I called on him yesterday, he didn't receive me, was unwell, but he's rich, rich and important, and . . . God grant him a long life, but all the same Evgeny Pavlych will get everything . . . Yes, yes . . . but even so I'm afraid!
I don't know why, but I'm afraid ...
As if something's hovering in the air, trouble flitting about like a bat, and I'm afraid, afraid! . . ."
And finally, only after three days, as we have already written above, came the formal reconciliation of the Epanchins with Prince Lev Nikolaevich.
XII
It was seven o'clock in the evening; the prince was about to go to the park.
Suddenly Lizaveta Prokofyevna came to him on the terrace alone.
"First, don't you dare think," she began, "that I've come to ask your forgiveness.
Nonsense!
You're to blame all around."
The prince was silent.
"Are you to blame or not?"
"As much as you are.
However, neither I, nor you, neither of us is to blame for anything deliberate.
Two days ago I thought I was to blame, but now I've decided that it's not so."
"So that's how you are!
Well, all right; listen then and sit down, because I have no intention of standing."
They both sat down.
"Second: not a word about those spiteful brats!