"Well, never mind that," replied Lizaveta Prokofyevna, "we're not sorry for the vase, we're sorry for you.
So you yourself now realize that there was a scandal: that's what 'the morning after . . .' means, but never mind that either, because everyone can see now that you're not answerable for anything.
Well, good-bye, anyhow; if you're strong enough, go for a walk and then sleep again—that's my advice.
And if you think of it, come and see us as formerly; rest assured, once and for all, that whatever happens, whatever may come, you'll still remain a friend of our house: of mine at least.
I can at least answer for myself . . ."
They all responded to the challenge and confirmed the mother's feelings.
They left, but this simple-hearted haste to say something affectionate and encouraging concealed much that was cruel, of which Lizaveta Prokofyevna was unaware.
In the invitation to come "as formerly" and in the words "of mine at least" again something ominous sounded.
The prince began to remember Aglaya; true, she had smiled wonderfully at him as she came in and as she left, but she had not said a word, even when they had all expressed their assurances of friendship, though she had looked at him intently a couple of times.
Her face had been paler than usual, as if she had slept badly that night.
The prince decided that he would certainly go to them that evening "as formerly," and he glanced feverishly at his watch.
Vera came in exactly three minutes after the Epanchins left.
"Lev Nikolaevich, Aglaya Ivanovna has just given me a little word for you in secret."
The prince simply trembled.
"A note?"
"No, verbally; she barely had time.
She asks you very much not to leave your house all day today, not for a single moment, till seven o'clock in the evening, or even till nine, I didn't quite hear."
"But . . . what for?
What does it mean?"
"I don't know anything about that; only she asked me to tell you firmly."
"She said 'firmly'?"
"No, sir, she didn't say it straight out: she barely had time to turn around and tell me, once I ran up to her myself.
But firmly or not, I could see by her face that it was an order.
She looked at me with such eyes that my heart stopped . . ."
A few more questions and the prince, though he learned nothing further, instead became still more anxious.
Left alone, he lay on the sofa and again began to think.
"Maybe someone will be there till nine o'clock, and she's afraid for me again, that I might act up again in front of the guests," he thought up finally and again began waiting impatiently for evening and looking at his watch.
But the answer to the riddle came long before evening and also in the form of a new visit, an answer in the form of a new, tormenting riddle: exactly half an hour after the Epanchins left, Ippolit came in, so tired and worn out that, on coming in, and without saying a word, he literally collapsed into an armchair, as if unconscious, and instantly broke into an unbearable fit of coughing.
In the end he coughed up blood.
His eyes glittered and red spots glowed on his cheeks.
The prince murmured something to him, but he did not answer and for a long time, without answering, only waved his hand, so as not to be bothered meanwhile.
Finally he recovered.
"I'm leaving!" he finally forced himself to say in a hoarse voice.
"If you like, I'll see you off," said the prince, getting up from his place, and he stopped short, remembering the recent ban on leaving the house.
Ippolit laughed.
"I'm not leaving you," he went on with an incessant choking and gurgling. "On the contrary, I've found it necessary to come to you, and on business . . . otherwise I wouldn't bother you.
I'm leaving there, and this time, it seems, seriously.
Kaput!
I'm not asking for commiseration, believe me ... I already lay down today, at ten o'clock, so as not to get up at all till that time comes, but I changed my mind and got up once more to come to you . . . which means I had to."
"It's a pity to look at you; you'd have done better to send for me than to trouble yourself."
"Well, enough of that.
So you've pitied me, and that's enough for social civility . . . Ah, I forgot: how is your own health?"
"I'm well.
Yesterday I was . . . not very . . ."
"I heard, I heard.
The Chinese vase got it; a pity I wasn't there!
I've come on business.
First, today I had the pleasure of seeing Gavrila Ardalionovich meeting with Aglaya Ivanovna by the green bench.
I marveled at how stupid a man can look.
I observed as much to Aglaya Ivanovna herself, after Gavrila Ardalionovich left ... It seems you're surprised at nothing, Prince," he added, looking mistrustfully at the prince's calm face. "To be surprised at nothing, they say, is a sign of great intelligence; in my opinion, it might serve equally as a sign of great stupidity . . . However, I'm not alluding to you, forgive me . . . I'm very unlucky with my expressions today."