Historical fiction; Russia -- Social conditions -- 1801-1917 -- Fiction
Ptitsin explained, for the benefit of the company, that the prince’s
aunt had died five months since. He had never known her, but she was
his mother’s own sister, the daughter of a Moscow merchant, one
Paparchin, who had died a bankrupt. But the elder brother of this same
Paparchin, had been an eminent and very rich merchant. A year since it
had so happened that his only two sons had both died within the same
month. This sad event had so affected the old man that he, too, had
died very shortly after. He was a widower, and had no relations left,
excepting the prince’s aunt, a poor woman living on charity, who was
herself at the point of death from dropsy; but who had time, before she
died, to set Salaskin to work to find her nephew, and to make her will
bequeathing her newly-acquired fortune to him.
It appeared that neither the prince, nor the doctor with whom he lived
in Switzerland, had thought of waiting for further communications; but
the prince had started straight away with Salaskin’s letter in his
pocket.
“One thing I may tell you, for certain,” concluded Ptitsin, addressing
the prince, “that there is no question about the authenticity of this
matter. Anything that Salaskin writes you as regards your
unquestionable right to this inheritance, you may look upon as so much
money in your pocket. I congratulate you, prince; you may receive a
million and a half of roubles, perhaps more; I don’t know. All I _do_
know is that Paparchin was a very rich merchant indeed.”
“Hurrah!” cried Lebedeff, in a drunken voice. “Hurrah for the last of
the Muishkins!”
“My goodness me! and I gave him twenty-five roubles this morning as
though he were a beggar,” blurted out the general, half senseless with
amazement. “Well, I congratulate you, I congratulate you!” And the
general rose from his seat and solemnly embraced the prince. All came
forward with congratulations; even those of Rogojin’s party who had
retreated into the next room, now crept softly back to look on. For the
moment even Nastasia Philipovna was forgotten.
But gradually the consciousness crept back into the minds of each one
present that the prince had just made her an offer of marriage. The
situation had, therefore, become three times as fantastic as before.
Totski sat and shrugged his shoulders, bewildered. He was the only
guest left sitting at this time; the others had thronged round the
table in disorder, and were all talking at once.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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