Nastasia Philipovna, who loved originality and drollery of all kinds, was apparently very fond of this old man, and rang the bell for more tea to stop his coughing. It was now half-past ten o’clock. “Gentlemen, wouldn’t you like a little champagne now?” she asked. “I have it all ready; it will cheer us up—do now—no ceremony!” This invitation to drink, couched, as it was, in such informal terms, came very strangely from Nastasia Philipovna. Her usual entertainments were not quite like this; there was more style about them. However, the wine was not refused; each guest took a glass excepting Gania, who drank nothing. It was extremely difficult to account for Nastasia’s strange condition of mind, which became more evident each moment, and which none could avoid noticing. She took her glass, and vowed she would empty it three times that evening. She was hysterical, and laughed aloud every other minute with no apparent reason—the next moment relapsing into gloom and thoughtfulness. Some of her guests suspected that she must be ill; but concluded at last that she was expecting something, for she continued to look at her watch impatiently and unceasingly; she was most absent and strange. “You seem to be a little feverish tonight,” said the actress. “Yes; I feel quite ill. I have been obliged to put on this shawl—I feel so cold,” replied Nastasia. She certainly had grown very pale, and every now and then she tried to suppress a trembling in her limbs. “Had we not better allow our hostess to retire?” asked Totski of the general. “Not at all, gentlemen, not at all! Your presence is absolutely necessary to me tonight,” said Nastasia, significantly. As most of those present were aware that this evening a certain very important decision was to be taken, these words of Nastasia Philipovna’s appeared to be fraught with much hidden interest. The general and Totski exchanged looks; Gania fidgeted convulsively in his chair. “Let’s play at some game!” suggested the actress. “I know a new and most delightful game, added Ferdishenko. “What is it?” asked the actress. “Well, when we tried it we were a party of people, like this, for instance; and somebody proposed that each of us, without leaving his place at the table, should relate something about himself. It had to be something that he really and honestly considered the very worst action he had ever committed in his life. But he was to be honest—that was the chief point! He wasn’t to be allowed to lie.” “What an extraordinary idea!” said the general. “That’s the beauty of it, general!” “It’s a funny notion,” said Totski, “and yet quite natural—it’s only a new way of boasting.” “Perhaps that is just what was so fascinating about it.” “Why, it would be a game to cry over—not to laugh at!” said the actress. “Did it succeed?” asked Nastasia Philipovna. “Come, let’s try it, let’s try it; we really are not quite so jolly as we might be—let’s try it! We may like it; it’s original, at all events!”