There is some special nuance in your face that reminds me of Holbein's Madonna in Dresden.26 Well, that's for your face— am I a good guesser?
You yourselves consider me one.
But about your face, Lizaveta Prokofyevna," he suddenly turned to Mrs. Epanchin, "about your face I not only think but I'm certain that you are a perfect child, in everything, in everything, in everything good and in everything bad, despite your age.
You're not angry that I say it?
You do know my regard for children?
And don't think it's out of simplicity that I've just spoken so candidly about your faces; oh, no, not at all!
Maybe I, too, have something in mind."
VII
When the prince fell silent, they all looked at him gaily, even Aglaya, but especially Lizaveta Prokofyevna.
"Quite an examination!" she cried.
"So, my dear ladies, you thought you were going to patronize him like a poor little thing, and he barely deigned to accept you, and that with the reservation that he would come only rarely.
We've been made fools of—Ivan Fyodorovich most of all—and I'm glad.
Bravo, Prince, we were told earlier to put you through an examination.
And what you said about my face is all completely true: I am a child, and I know it.
I knew it even before you said it; you precisely expressed my own thought in a single word.
I think your character is completely identical to mine, and I'm very glad; like two drops of water.
Only you're a man and I'm a woman, and I've never been to Switzerland, that's all the difference."
"Don't be in a hurry, maman" cried Aglaya, "the prince said he had something special in mind in all his confessions, and he wasn't simply saying it."
"Yes, oh, yes," the others laughed.
"Don't tease him, my dears, he may be cleverer than all three of you put together.
You'll see.
Only why have you said nothing about Aglaya, Prince?
Aglaya's waiting, and I am, too."
"I can't say anything now. I'll say it later."
"Why?
She's noticeable, I believe?"
"Oh, yes, she's noticeable. You're an extraordinary beauty, Aglaya Ivanovna.
You're so good-looking that one is afraid to look at you."
"That's all?
And her qualities?" Mrs. Epanchin persisted.
"Beauty is difficult to judge; I'm not prepared yet.
Beauty is a riddle."
"That means you've set Aglaya a riddle," said Adelaida. "Solve it, Aglaya.
But she is good-looking, isn't she, Prince?"
"Extremely!" the prince replied warmly, with an enthusiastic glance at Aglaya. "Almost like Nastasya Filippovna, though her face is quite different ..."
They all exchanged astonished looks.
"Like who-o-om?" Mrs. Epanchin drew out. "Like Nastasya Filippovna?
Where have you seen Nastasya Filippovna?
What Nastasya Filippovna?"
"Gavrila Ardalionovich was just showing Ivan Fyodorovich her portrait."
"What? He brought Ivan Fyodorovich her portrait?"
"To show him.
Today Nastasya Filippovna presented Gavrila Ardalionovich with her portrait, and he brought it to show."
"I want to see it!" Mrs. Epanchin heaved herself up. "Where is this portrait?
If she gave it to him, he must have it, and, of course, he's still in the office!
He always comes to work on Wednesdays and never leaves before four.
Send for Gavrila Ardalionovich at once!
No, I'm hardly dying to see him.
Do me a favor, my dear Prince, go to the office, take the portrait from him, and bring it here.
Tell him we want to look at it.