When the prince returned home, at around nine o'clock, he found Vera Lukyanovna and the maid on the terrace.
They were tidying and sweeping up together after yesterday's disorder.
"Thank God we finished before you came!" Vera said joyfully.
"Good morning. My head is spinning a little; I slept poorly; I'd like to sleep."
"Here on the terrace like yesterday?
Very well.
I'll tell everyone not to wake you up.
Papa has gone somewhere."
The maid went out; Vera followed her, but then came back and worriedly went over to the prince.
"Prince, have pity on this . . . unfortunate boy; don't send him away today."
"I wouldn't do that for anything; it will be as he likes."
"He won't do anything now, and . . . don't be severe with him."
"Oh, no, why would I?"
"And . . . don't laugh at him; that's the most important thing."
"Oh, certainly not!"
"It's stupid of me to say that to a man like you," Vera blushed.
"And though you're tired," she laughed, half turning to leave, "you have such nice eyes at this moment . . . happy eyes."
"Happy, really?" the prince asked with animation and laughed joyfully.
But Vera, simple-hearted and unceremonious as a young boy, suddenly became embarrassed, blushed all the more, and, still laughing, hastily left the room.
"Such a . . . nice girl . . ." the prince thought and forgot about her at once.
He went to the corner of the terrace, where there was a couch with a little table in front of it, sat down, covered his face with his hands, and went on sitting for some ten minutes; suddenly he thrust his hand hastily and anxiously into his side pocket and took out the three letters.
But the door opened again and Kolya came in.
The prince seemed glad that he had to put the letters back into his pocket and postpone the moment.
"Well, quite an event!" said Kolya, sitting on the couch and going straight to the subject, like all his fellows.
"How do you look at Ippolit now?
Without respect?"
"Why should . . . but I'm tired, Kolya . . . Besides, it's too sad to start about that again . . . How is he, though?"
"Asleep, and he'll go on sleeping for another couple of hours.
I understand; you didn't sleep at home, you walked in the park . . . agitation, of course . . . what else!"
"How do you know that I walked in the park and didn't sleep at home?"
"Vera just said so.
She insisted that I not come in; I couldn't help it, for a moment.
I've spent these two hours watching at his bedside; now it's Kostya Lebedev's turn.
Burdovsky left.
Lie down, then, Prince. Good . . . well, good day!
Only, you know, I'm really struck!"
"Of course ... all this . . ."
"No, Prince, no; I'm struck by the confession.
Above all by the place where he speaks about providence and the future life.
There's a gi-gan-tic thought there!"
The prince gazed affectionately at Kolya, who had certainly come only to talk the sooner about the gigantic thought.
"But the main thing, the main thing is not in the thought alone, but in the whole situation!
If it had been written by Voltaire, Rousseau, Proudhon,25 I'd read it, make note of it, but I wouldn't be struck to such a degree.
But a man who knows for certain that he has ten minutes left, and who speaks like that—oh, that's proud!
That's the highest independence of personal dignity, that means a direct challenge . . . No, it's gigantic strength of spirit!
And after that to maintain that he didn't put the cap in on purpose—it's mean, unnatural!
And, you know, he deceived us yesterday, he tricked us: I never packed his bag with him and never saw the pistol; he packed everything himself, and then he suddenly got me confused.
Vera says you're letting him stay here; I swear there won't be any danger, especially since we never leave him for an instant."
"And who of you was there during the night?"
"Kostya Lebedev, Burdovsky, and I; Keller stayed for a while and then went to sleep at Lebedev's, because we had no bed.