They parted warmly.
Kolya did not talk about what had happened, but promised to come early the next day.
He later testified that the prince had not warned him about anything at this last farewell, which meant that he had concealed his intentions even from him.
Soon there was almost no one left in the whole house: Burdovsky went to Ippolit's, Keller and Lebedev also took themselves off somewhere.
Only Vera Lebedev remained in the rooms for some time, hastily turning everything from a festive to its ordinary look.
As she was leaving, she peeked into the prince's room.
He was sitting at the table, both elbows resting on it and his head in his hands.
She quietly went up to him and touched his shoulder; the prince looked at her in perplexity, and for almost a minute seemed as if he was trying to remember; but having remembered and realized everything, he suddenly became extremely excited.
It all resolved itself, however, in a great and fervent request to Vera, that she knock at his door the next morning at seven o'clock, before the first train.
Vera promised; the prince began asking her heatedly not to tell anyone about it; she promised that as well, and finally, when she had already opened the door to leave, the prince stopped her for a third time, took her hands, kissed them, then kissed her on the forehead, and with a certain "extraordinary" look, said: "Till tomorrow!"
So at least Vera recounted afterwards.
She left fearing greatly for him.
In the morning she was heartened a little when she knocked at his door at seven o'clock, as arranged, and announced to him that the train for Petersburg would leave in a quarter of an hour; it seemed to her that he was quite cheerful and even smiling when he opened the door to her.
He had almost not undressed for the night, but he had slept.
In his opinion, he might come back that same day.
It turned out, therefore, that at that moment she was the only one he had found it possible and necessary to inform that he was going to town.
XI
An hour later he was in Petersburg, and after nine o'clock he was ringing at Rogozhin's.
He came in by the front entrance and had to wait a long time.
At last, the door of old Mrs. Rogozhin's apartment opened, and an elderly, decent-looking maid appeared.
"Parfyon Semyonovich is not at home," she announced from the doorway. "Whom do you want?"
"Parfyon Semyonovich."
"He's not at home, sir."
The maid looked the prince over with wild curiosity.
"At least tell me, did he spend the night at home?
And . . . did he come back alone yesterday?"
The maid went on looking, but did not reply.
"Didn't he come here yesterday ... in the evening . . . with Nastasya Filippovna?"
"And may I ask who you are pleased to be yourself?"
"Prince Lev Nikolaevich Myshkin, we're very well acquainted."
"He's not at home, sir."
The maid dropped her eyes.
"And Nastasya Filippovna?"
"I know nothing about that, sir."
"Wait, wait!
When will he be back?"
"We don't know that either, sir."
The door closed.
The prince decided to come back in an hour.
Looking into the courtyard, he met the caretaker.
"Is Parfyon Semyonovich at home?"
"He is, sir."
"How is it I was just told he's not at home?"
"Did somebody at his place tell you?"
"No, the maid at his mother's, but when I rang at Parfyon Semyonovich's nobody answered."
"Maybe he went out," the caretaker decided. "He doesn't always say.
And sometimes he takes the key with him and the rooms stay locked for three days."
"Are you sure he was at home yesterday?"
"He was.
Sometimes he comes in the front entrance, so I don't see him."