Lebedev, who had almost driven some of his listeners to real indignation (the bottles, it should be noted, did not cease to be uncorked all the while), immediately won over all his opponents by unexpectedly concluding his speech with a little snack.
He himself called such a conclusion a "clever, advocatory rounding off of the case."
Merry laughter arose again, the guests became animated; they all got up from the table to stretch and stroll about the terrace.
Only Keller remained displeased with Lebedev's speech and was in extreme agitation.
"The man attacks enlightenment, preaches rabid twelfth-century fanaticism, clowns, and even without any innocence of heart: how did he pay for this house, may I ask?" he said aloud, stopping all and sundry.
"I've seen a real interpreter of the Apocalypse," the general said in another corner to other listeners, among them Ptitsyn, whom he seized by a button, "the late Grigory Semyonovich Burmistrov: he burned through your heart, so to speak.
First, he put on his spectacles, opened a big old book bound in black leather, well, and a gray beard along with it, two medals for his donations.
He'd begin sternly and severely, generals bowed down to him, and ladies swooned—well, and this one ends with a snack.
I've never seen the like!"
Ptitsyn listened to the general, smiled, and seemed about to take his hat, but could not quite make up his mind or else kept forgetting his intention.
Ganya, before the moment when they all got up from the table, had suddenly stopped drinking and pushed his glass away; something dark had passed over his face.
When they got up from the table, he went over to Rogozhin and sat down next to him.
One might have thought they were on the most friendly terms.
Rogozhin, who at first also made as if to leave quietly several times, now sat motionless, his head bowed, and also seemed to have forgotten that he wanted to leave.
He did not drink a single drop of wine all evening and was very pensive; only from time to time he raised his eyes and looked them all over.
Now one might have thought he was waiting there for something extremely important for him and was resolved not to leave till the time came.
The prince drank only two or three glasses and was merely merry.
Getting up from the table, he met Evgeny Pavlovich's gaze, remembered about their forthcoming talk, and smiled affably.
Evgeny Pavlovich nodded to him and suddenly pointed to Ippolit, whom he was observing intently at that moment.
Ippolit was asleep, stretched out on the sofa.
"Tell me, Prince, why has this boy foisted himself on you?" he said suddenly, with such obvious vexation and even spite that the prince was surprised.
"I'll bet he's got something wicked in mind!"
"I've noticed," said the prince, "or at least it seems to me, that he interests you very much today, Evgeny Pavlych. Is it true?"
"And add that in my circumstances I have a lot to think about, so that I'm surprised myself that I've been unable to tear myself away from that repulsive physiognomy all evening!"
"He has a handsome face . . ."
"There, there, look!" cried Evgeny Pavlovich, pulling the prince's arm. "There! . . ."
The prince again looked Evgeny Pavlovich over with surprise.
V
Ippolit, who towards the end of Lebedev's dissertation had suddenly fallen asleep on the sofa, now suddenly woke up, as if someone had nudged him in the side, gave a start, sat up, looked around, and turned pale; he looked around even in a sort of fright; but horror almost showed in his face when he recalled and understood everything.
"What, they're going home?
Is it over? Is it all over?
Has the sun risen?" he asked in alarm, seizing the prince's hand. "What time is it?
For God's sake, what time?
I've overslept.
Did I sleep long?" he added with an almost desperate look, as if he had slept through something on which at least his whole destiny depended.
"You slept for seven or eight minutes," Evgeny Pavlovich replied.
Ippolit looked at him greedily and pondered for a few moments.
"Ah . . . that's all!
So, I . . ."
And he drew his breath deeply and greedily, as if throwing off an immense burden.
He finally realized that nothing was "over," that it was not dawn yet, that the guests had gotten up from the table only to have a snack, and that the only thing that was over was Lebedev's babble.
He smiled, and a consumptive flush in the form of two bright spots played on his cheeks.
"So you've been counting the minutes while I slept, Evgeny Pavlych," he picked up mockingly. "You haven't torn yourself away from me all evening, I saw . . . Ah!
Rogozhin!
I just saw him in a dream," he whispered to the prince, frowning and nodding towards Rogozhin, who was sitting by the table. "Ah, yes," he again skipped on suddenly, "where is the orator, where is Lebedev?
So Lebedev's finished?
What was he talking about?
Is it true, Prince, that you once said 'beauty' would save the world?
Gentlemen," he cried loudly to them all, "the prince insists that beauty will save the world!
And I insist that he has such playful thoughts because he's in love now.