“I must admit, prince, I was a little put out to see you up and about like this—I expected to find you in bed; but I give you my word, I was only annoyed for an instant, before I collected my thoughts properly. I am always wiser on second thoughts, and I dare say you are the same. I assure you I am as glad to see you well as though you were my own son,—yes, and more; and if you don’t believe me the more shame to you, and it’s not my fault. But that spiteful boy delights in playing all sorts of tricks. You are his patron, it seems. Well, I warn you that one fine morning I shall deprive myself of the pleasure of his further acquaintance.” “What have I done wrong now?” cried Colia. “What was the good of telling you that the prince was nearly well again? You would not have believed me; it was so much more interesting to picture him on his death-bed.” “How long do you remain here, prince?” asked Madame Epanchin. “All the summer, and perhaps longer.” “You are alone, aren’t you,—not married?” “No, I’m not married!” replied the prince, smiling at the ingenuousness of this little feeler. “Oh, you needn’t laugh! These things do happen, you know! Now then—why didn’t you come to us? We have a wing quite empty. But just as you like, of course. Do you lease it from _him?_—this fellow, I mean,” she added, nodding towards Lebedeff. “And why does he always wriggle so?” At that moment Vera, carrying the baby in her arms as usual, came out of the house, on to the terrace. Lebedeff kept fidgeting among the chairs, and did not seem to know what to do with himself, though he had no intention of going away. He no sooner caught sight of his daughter, than he rushed in her direction, waving his arms to keep her away; he even forgot himself so far as to stamp his foot. “Is he mad?” asked Madame Epanchin suddenly. “No, he...” “Perhaps he is drunk? Your company is rather peculiar,” she added, with a glance at the other guests.... “But what a pretty girl! Who is she?” “That is Lebedeff’s daughter—Vera Lukianovna.” “Indeed? She looks very sweet. I should like to make her acquaintance.” The words were hardly out of her mouth, when Lebedeff dragged Vera forward, in order to present her. “Orphans, poor orphans!” he began in a pathetic voice. “The child she carries is an orphan, too. She is Vera’s sister, my daughter Luboff. The day this babe was born, six weeks ago, my wife died, by the will of God Almighty.... Yes... Vera takes her mother’s place, though she is but her sister... nothing more... nothing more...” “And you! You are nothing more than a fool, if you’ll excuse me! Well! well! you know that yourself, I expect,” said the lady indignantly. Lebedeff bowed low. “It is the truth,” he replied, with extreme respect. “Oh, Mr. Lebedeff, I am told you lecture on the Apocalypse. Is it true?” asked Aglaya. “Yes, that is so... for the last fifteen years.” “I have heard of you, and I think read of you in the newspapers.”