"I knew yesterday that Gavrila Ardalionovich . . ." the prince broke off, clearly embarrassed, though Ippolit was vexed that he was not surprised.
"You knew!
That's news!
But anyhow, kindly don't tell me about it . . . And mightn't you have been a witness to today's meeting?"
"You saw I wasn't, since you were there yourself."
"Well, maybe you were sitting behind a bush somewhere.
However, I'm glad in any case, for you, naturally, because I was already thinking that Gavrila Ardalionovich was the favorite!"
"I ask you not to speak of it with me in such expressions, Ippolit!"
"The more so as you already know everything."
"You're mistaken.
I know almost nothing, and Aglaya Ivanovna surely knows that I know nothing.
Even of this meeting I knew exactly nothing . . . You say there was a meeting?
Well, all right, let's drop it . . ."
"But how is it, first you know, then you don't know?
You say 'all right, let's drop it'?
No, don't be so trustful!
Especially if you don't know anything.
You're trustful because you don't know.
And do you know what these two persons, this nice little brother and sister, are calculating?
Maybe you do suspect that? . . .
All right, all right, I'll drop it . . ." he added, noticing the prince's impatient gesture. "But I've come on my own business and about that I want to . . . explain myself.
Devil take it, it's simply impossible to die without explanations; I do an awful lot of explaining.
Do you want to listen?"
"Speak, I'm listening."
"But anyhow, I've changed my mind again: I'll begin with Ganechka all the same.
If you can imagine it, I, too, had an appointment at the green bench today.
However, I don't want to lie: I insisted on the meeting myself, I invited myself and promised to reveal a secret.
I don't know, maybe I came too early (it seems I actually did come early), but as soon as I took my place beside Aglaya Ivanovna, lo and behold, Gavrila Ardalionovich and Varvara Ardalionovna showed up, arm in arm, as if out for a stroll.
It seems they were both very struck when they saw me; it wasn't what they were expecting, they even became embarrassed.
Aglaya Ivanovna blushed and, believe it or not, was even a bit at a loss, either because I was there, or simply seeing Gavrila Ardalionovich, because he's so good-looking, but she just blushed all over and ended the business in a second, very amusingly: she stood up, responded to Gavrila Ardalionovich's bow and to the ingratiating smile of Varvara Ardalionovna, and suddenly snapped: 'I've invited you only in order to express my personal pleasure at your sincere and friendly feelings, and if I ever have need of them, believe me . . .'
Here she made her bows, and the two of them left—feeling like fools, or else triumphant, I don't know; Ganechka, of course, felt like a fool; he didn't understand anything and turned red as a lobster (he sometimes has an extraordinary expression!), but Varvara Ardalionovna, I think, realized that they had to clear out quickly, and that this was more than enough from Aglaya Ivanovna, and she dragged her brother away.
She's smarter than he is and, I'm sure, feels triumphant now.
As for me, I came to talk with Aglaya Ivanovna, in order to arrange her meeting with Nastasya Filippovna."
"With Nastasya Filippovna!" cried the prince.
"Aha!
It seems you're losing your cool-headedness and beginning to be surprised?
I'm very glad you want to resemble a human being.
For that I'm going to amuse you.
This is what it means to be of service to young and high-minded ladies: today I got a slap in the face from her!"
"A m-moral one?" the prince asked somehow involuntarily.
"Yes, not a physical one.
I don't think anybody's going to raise his hand now against someone like me; even a woman wouldn't hit me now; even Ganechka wouldn't! Though there was a moment yesterday when I thought he was going to leap at me . . . I'll bet I know what you're thinking now.
You're thinking: 'Granted he shouldn't be beaten, but he could be smothered with a pillow or a wet rag in his sleep—he even ought to be . . .' It's written all over your face that you're thinking that at this very second."
"I never thought that!" the prince said with repugnance.
"I don't know, last night I dreamed that I was smothered with a wet rag ... by a certain man . . . well, I'll tell you who: imagine— Rogozhin!
What do you think, is it possible to smother a man with a wet rag?"
"I don't know."
"I've heard it is.
All right, let's drop it.
So, what makes me a gossip?