I can see by your face that you don't!
Well, how did she die?
Answer, if you know!"
"Get out!
What a pest."
"The way she died was that, after such honors, this former ruling lady was dragged guiltless to the guillotine by the executioner Samson, for the amusement of the Parisian fishwives, and she was so frightened that she didn't understand what was happening to her.
She saw that he was bending her neck down under the knife and kicking her from behind—with the rest all laughing—and she began to cry out:
'Encore un moment, monsieur le bourreau, encore un moment!'
Which means:
'Wait one more little minute, mister boorow, just one!'
And maybe the Lord will forgive her for that little minute, because it's impossible to imagine a human soul in worse mizair than that.
Do you know what the word mizair means?
Well, this is that same mizair.
When I read about this countess's cry of one little moment, it was as if my heart was in pincers.
And what do you care, worm, if I decided on going to bed at night to remember her, a great sinner, in my prayers?
Maybe I remembered her precisely because, as long as this world has stood, probably nobody has ever crossed his forehead for her, or even thought of it.
And so, she'll feel good in the other world that another sinner like her has been found, who has prayed for her at least once on earth.
What are you laughing at?
You don't believe, you atheist.
But how do you know?
And you also lied, if you did eavesdrop on me; I didn't pray only for the countess Du Barry; what I prayed was: 'Give rest, O Lord, to the soul of the great sinner, the countess Du Barry, and all those like her'—and that's a very different thing; for there are many such great women sinners and examples of the change of fortune, who suffered, and who now find no peace there, and groan, and wait; and I also prayed then for you and those like you, of your kind, impudent offenders, since you decided to eavesdrop on my prayers . . ."
"Well, all right, enough, pray for whoever you like, devil take you, quit shouting!" the nephew interrupted vexedly.
"He's very well read, Prince, didn't you know?" he added with a sort of awkward grin. "He's reading all sorts of books and memoirs these days."
"All the same your uncle ... is not a heartless man," the prince observed reluctantly.
He was beginning to find this young man quite repulsive.
"You'll spoil him on us, praising him like that!
See, he puts his hand to his heart and purses his lips, relishing it no end.
Maybe he's not heartless, but he's a rogue, that's the trouble; what's more, he's drunk, he's all unhinged, like anybody who's been drinking for several years, and everything in him creaks.
Granted he loves the children, he respected my deceased aunt. . . He even loves me, by God, and has left me something in his will . . ."
"N-nothing is what you'll get!" Lebedev cried out bitterly.
"Listen, Lebedev," the prince said firmly, turning away from the young man, "I know from experience that you can be businesslike when you want to be ... I have very little time now, and if you . . . Excuse me, I've forgotten your name."
"Ti-Ti-Timofei."
"And?"
"Lukyanovich."
Everybody in the room burst out laughing.
"A lie!" cried the nephew. "That, too, is a lie!
His name isn't Timofei Lukyanovich at all, Prince, it's Lukyan Timofeevich!
Tell us, now, why did you lie?
Isn't it all the same, Lukyan or Timofei, and what does the prince care?
He only lies out of habit, I assure you!"
"Can it be true?" the prince asked impatiently.
"Actually, I'm Lukyan Timofeevich," Lebedev confirmed abashedly, humbly looking down and again putting his hand to his heart.
"Ah, my God, but why did you do it?"
"For self-belittlement," whispered Lebedev, hanging his head more and more humbly.
"Eh, who needs your self-belittlement!
If only I knew where to find Kolya now!" said the prince, and he turned to leave.
"I can tell you where Kolya is," the young man volunteered again.
"No, no, no!" Lebedev roused himself, all in a flutter.
"Kolya spent the night here, but in the morning he went to look for his general, whom you, Prince, redeemed from prison, God knows why.
The general had promised yesterday to come here and spend the night, but he didn't.