"Yes, yes, my friend, there was such a hegumen in the old days . . . and I'm off to the count's, he's been waiting, waiting a long time, and, above all, it was he who made the appointment . . . Good-bye, Prince!"
The general withdrew with quick steps.
"I know which count that is!" Elizaveta Prokofyevna said sharply and turned her gaze irritably on the prince.
"What was it!" she began, trying squeamishly and vexedly to recall. "What was it!
Ah, yes. Well, what about this hegumen?"
"Maman," Alexandra began, and Aglaya even stamped her little foot.
"Don't interrupt me, Alexandra Ivanovna," Mrs. Epanchin rapped out to her, "I also want to know.
Sit down here, Prince, in this chair, facing me—no, here, move closer to the sun, to the light, so that I can see.
Well, what about this hegumen?"
"Hegumen Pafnuty," the prince replied attentively and seriously.
"Pafnuty?
That's interesting. Well, who was he?"
Mrs. Epanchin asked impatiently, quickly, sharply, not taking her eyes off the prince, and when he answered, she nodded her head after each word he said.
"The hegumen Pafnuty, of the fourteenth century," the prince began. "He was the head of a hermitage on the Volga, in what is now Kostroma province.
He was known for his holy life. He went to the Horde,20 helped to arrange some affairs of that time, and signed his name to a certain document, and I saw a copy of that signature.
I liked the handwriting and learned it.
Today, when the general wanted to see how I can write, in order to find a post for me, I wrote several phrases in various scripts, and among them
'The hegumen Pafnuty here sets his hand to it' in the hegumen Pafnuty's own handwriting.
The general liked it very much, and he remembered it just now."
"Aglaya," said Mrs. Epanchin, "remember: Pafnuty, or better write it down, because I always forget.
However, I thought it would be more interesting.
Where is this signature?"
"I think it's still in the general's office, on the desk."
"Send at once and fetch it."
"I could just as well write it again for you, if you like."
"Of course, maman," said Alexandra, "and now we'd better have lunch; we're hungry."
"Well, so," Mrs. Epanchin decided.
"Come, Prince, are you very hungry?"
"Yes, at the moment I'm very hungry and I thank you very much."
"It's very good that you're polite, and I note that you're not at all such an . . . odd man as we were told.
Come.
Sit down here, across from me," she bustled about, getting the prince seated, when they came to the dining room, "I want to look at you.
Alexandra, Adelaida, offer the prince something.
Isn't it true that he's not all that . . . sick?
Maybe the napkin isn't necessary . . . Do they tie a napkin around your neck when you eat, Prince?"
"Before, when I was about seven, I think they did, but now I usually put my napkin on my knees when I eat."
"So you should.
And your fits?"
"Fits?" the prince was slightly surprised. "I have fits rather rarely now.
Though, I don't know, they say the climate here will be bad for me."
"He speaks well," Mrs. Epanchin observed, turning to her daughters and continuing to nod her head after each word the prince said. "I didn't even expect it.
So it was all nonsense and lies, as usual.
Eat, Prince, and go on with your story: where were you born and brought up?
I want to know everything; you interest me exceedingly."
The prince thanked her and, eating with great appetite, again began to tell everything he had already told more than once that morning.
Mrs. Epanchin was becoming more and more pleased.
The girls also listened rather attentively.
They discussed families; the prince turned out to know his genealogy rather well, but hard as they searched, they could find almost no connection between him and Mrs. Epanchin.
There might have been some distant relation between their grandmothers and grandfathers.
Mrs. Epanchin especially liked this dry subject, since she hardly ever had the chance to talk about her genealogy, despite all her wishes, so that she even got up from the table in an excited state of mind.