"If you don't understand, then . . . but, no, you do understand. He wanted then ... to bless you all and to receive your blessing, that's all."
"My dear Prince," Prince Shch. hastened to pick up somehow warily, exchanging glances with some of those present, "paradise on earth is not easily achieved; but all the same you are counting on paradise in a way; paradise is a difficult thing, Prince, much more difficult than it seems to your wonderful heart.
We'd better stop, otherwise we may all get embarrassed again, and then . . ."
"Let's go and listen to the music," Lizaveta Prokofyevna said sharply, getting up angrily from her seat.
They all stood up after her.
II
The prince suddenly went over to Evgeny Pavlovich.
"Evgeny Pavlych," he said with a strange ardor, seizing him by the arm, "you may be sure that I consider you the noblest and best of men, in spite of everything; you may be sure of that . . ."
Evgeny Pavlovich even stepped back in surprise.
For a moment he tried to suppress an unbearable fit of laughter; but, on looking closer, he noticed that the prince was as if not himself, or at least in some sort of peculiar state.
"I'll bet," he cried, "that you were going to say something quite different, Prince, and maybe not to me at all . . . But what's the matter?
Do you feel bad?"
"That may be, that may well be, and it was a very subtle observation that I may have wanted to approach someone else!"
Having said this, he smiled somehow strangely and even ridiculously, but suddenly, as if becoming excited, he exclaimed:
"Don't remind me of what I did three days ago!
I've been feeling very ashamed these three days ... I know I'm to blame . . ."
"But. . . but what did you do that was so terrible?"
"I can see that you are perhaps more ashamed for me than anyone else, Evgeny Pavlovich; you're blushing, that's the sign of a beautiful heart.
I'll leave presently, you may be sure."
"What's the matter with him?
Is this how his fits begin?" Lizaveta Prokofyevna turned fearfully to Kolya.
"Never mind, Lizaveta Prokofyevna, I'm not having a fit; I'll leave right now.
I know I've been . . . mistreated by nature.
I've been ill for twenty-four years, from birth to the age of twenty-four.
Take it from me now as from a sick man.
I'll leave right now, right now, you may be sure.
I'm not blushing—because it would be strange to blush at that, isn't it so?—but I'm superfluous in society ... I don't say it out of vanity ... I was thinking it over during these three days and decided that I should inform you candidly and nobly at the first opportunity.
There are certain ideas, there are lofty ideas, which I ought not to start talking about, because I'll certainly make everyone laugh; Prince Shch. has just reminded me of that very thing . . . My gestures are inappropriate, I have no sense of measure; my words are wrong, they don't correspond to my thoughts, and that is humiliating for the thoughts.
And therefore I have no right . . . then, too, I'm insecure, I . . . I'm convinced that I cannot be offended in this house, that I am loved more than I'm worth, but I know (I know for certain) that after twenty years of illness there must surely be some trace left, so that it's impossible not to laugh at me . . . sometimes ... is that so?"
He looked around as if waiting for a response and a decision.
Everyone stood in painful perplexity from this unexpected, morbid, and, as it seemed, in any case groundless outburst.
But this outburst gave occasion to a strange episode.
"Why do you say that here?" Aglaya suddenly cried. "Why do you say it to them?
To them!
To them!"
She seemed to be in the ultimate degree of indignation: her eyes flashed fire.
The prince stood dumb and speechless before her and suddenly turned pale.
"There's no one here who is worth such words!" Aglaya burst out. "No one, no one here is worth your little finger, or your intelligence, or your heart!
You're more honest than all of them, nobler than all of them, better than all of them, kinder than all of them, more intelligent than all of them!
There are people here who aren't worthy of bending down to pick up the handkerchief you've just dropped . . . Why do you humiliate yourself and place yourself lower than everyone else?
Why have you twisted everything in yourself, why is there no pride in you?"
"Lord, who'd have thought it?" Lizaveta Prokofyevna clasped her hands.
"The poor knight!
Hurrah!" Kolya shouted in delight.
"Quiet! . . .
How do they dare offend me here in your house!" Aglaya suddenly fell upon Lizaveta Prokofyevna, now in that hysterical state in which one disregards all limits and overcomes all obstacles.
"Why do they all torment me, every last one of them!
Why do they all badger me on account of you, Prince?
I won't marry you for anything!
Know that, never and not for anything!