"So I really am a princess!" she whispered to herself as if mockingly and, happening to glance at Darya Alexeevna, she laughed.
"An unexpected denouement . . . I . . . was expecting something else. But why are you all standing, ladies and gentlemen, please be seated, congratulate me and the prince!
I think someone asked for champagne; Ferdyshchenko, go and order some.
Katya, Pasha," she suddenly saw her maids at the door, "come here, I'm getting married, have you heard?
The prince, he's come into a million and a half, he's Prince Myshkin, and he's taking me!"
"And God be with you, darling, it's high time!
Don't miss it!" cried Darya Alexeevna, deeply shaken by what had happened.
"Sit down beside me, Prince," Nastasya Filippovna went on, "that's right, and here comes the wine, congratulate us, ladies and gentlemen!"
"Hurrah!" cried a multitude of voices.
Many crowded around the wine, among them almost all of Rogozhin's people.
But though they shouted and were ready to shout, many of them, despite all the strangeness of the circumstances and the surroundings, sensed that the decor was changing.
Others were perplexed and waited mistrustfully.
And many whispered among themselves that it was a most ordinary affair, that princes marry all kinds of women, and even take gypsy women from their camps.
Rogozhin himself stood and stared, his face twisted into a fixed, bewildered smile.
"Prince, dear heart, come to your senses!" the general whispered in horror, approaching from the side and tugging at the prince's sleeve.
Nastasya Filippovna noticed it and laughed loudly.
"No, General!
I'm a princess myself now, you heard it—the prince won't let anyone offend me!
Afanasy Ivanovich, congratulate me; now I'll be able to sit next to your wife anywhere; it's useful to have such a husband, don't you think?
A million and a half, and a prince, and, they say, an idiot to boot, what could be better?
Only now does real life begin!
You're too late, Rogozhin!
Take your packet away, I'm marrying the prince, and I'm richer than you are!"
But Rogozhin grasped what was going on.
Inexpressible suffering was reflected in his face.
He clasped his hands and a groan burst from his breast.
"Give her up!" he cried to the prince.
There was laughter all around.
"Give her up to you?" Darya Alexeevna triumphantly joined in. "See, he dumps money on the table, the boor!
The prince is marrying her, and you show up with your outrages!"
"I'll marry her, too!
Right now, this minute! I'll give her everything ..."
"Look at him, drunk from the pot-house—you should be thrown out!" Darya Alexeevna repeated indignantly.
More laughter.
"Do you hear, Prince?" Nastasya Filippovna turned to him. "That's how the boor bargains for your bride."
"He's drunk," said the prince.
"He loves you very much."
"And won't you be ashamed afterwards that your bride almost went off with Rogozhin?"
"It's because you were in a fever; and you're in a fever now, as if you're delirious."
"And won't it shame you when they tell you afterwards that your wife was Totsky's kept woman?"
"No, it won't. . . You were not with Totsky by your own will."
"And you'll never reproach me?"
"Never."
"Well, watch out, don't vouch for your whole life!"
"Nastasya Filippovna," the prince said quietly and as if with compassion, "I told you just now that I will take your consent as an honor, and that you are doing me an honor, and not I you.
You smiled at those words, and I also heard laughter around me.
Perhaps I expressed myself in a funny way, and was funny myself, but I still think that I . . . understand what honor is, and I'm sure that what I said was the truth.
You were just going to ruin yourself irretrievably, because you would never forgive yourself for that: but you're not guilty of anything.
It can't be that your life is already completely ruined.
So what if Rogozhin came to you, and Gavrila Ardalionovich wanted to swindle you?