An old truth.
I am a fool with a heart but no brains, and you are a fool with brains but no heart; and we're both unhappy, and we both suffer."
"What are you so unhappy about, maman?" Adelaida, who alone of the whole company seemed not to have lost her cheerful disposition, could not help asking.
"First of all, about my learned daughters," Mrs. Epanchin snapped, "and since that is enough in itself, there's no point in expatiating on the rest.
There's been enough verbosity.
We'll see how the two of you (I don't count Aglaya), with your brains and verbosity, are going to find your way and whether you, my much esteemed Alexandra Ivanovna, are going to be happy with your honorable gentleman . . .
Ah! ..." she exclaimed, seeing the entering Ganya. "Here comes one more matrimony.
How do you do!" she responded to Ganya's bow without inviting him to sit down.
"Are you embarking upon matrimony?"
"Matrimony?...
How? ...
What matrimony? ..." Gavrila Ardalionovich murmured in stupefaction.
He was terribly bewildered.
"Are you getting married, I'm asking, if you like that phrasing better?"
"N-no . . . I'm . . . n-not," Gavrila Ardalionovich lied, and a flush of shame spread over his face.
He glanced fleetingly at Aglaya, who was sitting to one side, and quickly looked away.
Aglaya was looking at him coldly, intently, calmly, not taking her eyes off him, and observing his confusion.
"No?
Did you say no?" the implacable Lizaveta Prokofyevna persistently interrogated him. "Enough! I'll remember that today, Wednesday afternoon, you said 'No' to my question.
Is today Wednesday?"
"I think so, maman," replied Adelaida.
"They never know what day it is.
What's the date?"
"The twenty-seventh," replied Ganya.
"The twenty-seventh?
That's good, for certain considerations.
Good-bye. I suppose you have many things to do, and for me it's time to dress and be on my way. Take your portrait.
Give my respects to the unfortunate Nina Alexandrovna.
Good-bye, Prince, my dear boy!
Come more often, and I'll be sure to call on old Belokonsky and tell her about you.
And listen, my dear: I believe God brought you to Petersburg from Switzerland precisely for me.
Maybe you'll have other things to do, but it was mainly for me.
That's precisely how God reckoned.
Good-bye, my dears.
Alexandra, stop by for a minute."
Mrs. Epanchin left.
Ganya, overturned, confused, spiteful, took the portrait from the table and turned to the prince with a crooked smile:
"Prince, I'm going home now.
If you haven't changed your intention of living with us, I'll take you there, since you don't know the address."
"Wait, Prince," said Aglaya, suddenly getting up from her chair, "you still have to write something in my album.
Papa said you're a calligrapher.
I'll bring it to you right now . . ."
And she left.
"Good-bye, Prince, I'm going, too," said Adelaida.
She firmly shook the prince's hand, smiled at him affably and tenderly, and left.
She did not look at Ganya.
"It was you," Ganya rasped, suddenly falling upon the prince once everyone had gone, "you blabbed to them that I'm getting married!" he muttered in a quick half whisper, with a furious face, flashing his eyes spitefully. "You shameless babbler!"
"I assure you that you are mistaken," the prince replied calmly and politely, "I didn't even know you were getting married."
"You heard Ivan Fyodorovich say earlier that everything would be decided tonight at Nastasya Filippovna's, and you told it to them!
You're lying!