Historical fiction; Russia -- Social conditions -- 1801-1917 -- Fiction
“That could only have been on your invitation. I confess, however, that
I should not have stayed here even if you had invited me, not for any
particular reason, but because it is—well, contrary to my practice and
nature, somehow.”
“Oh, indeed! Then it is perhaps as well that I neither _did_ invite
you, nor _do_ invite you now. Excuse me, prince, but we had better make
this matter clear, once for all. We have just agreed that with regard
to our relationship there is not much to be said, though, of course, it
would have been very delightful to us to feel that such relationship
did actually exist; therefore, perhaps—”
“Therefore, perhaps I had better get up and go away?” said the prince,
laughing merrily as he rose from his place; just as merrily as though
the circumstances were by no means strained or difficult. “And I give
you my word, general, that though I know nothing whatever of manners
and customs of society, and how people live and all that, yet I felt
quite sure that this visit of mine would end exactly as it has ended
now. Oh, well, I suppose it’s all right; especially as my letter was
not answered. Well, good-bye, and forgive me for having disturbed you!”
The prince’s expression was so good-natured at this moment, and so
entirely free from even a suspicion of unpleasant feeling was the smile
with which he looked at the general as he spoke, that the latter
suddenly paused, and appeared to gaze at his guest from quite a new
point of view, all in an instant.
“Do you know, prince,” he said, in quite a different tone, “I do not
know you at all, yet, and after all, Elizabetha Prokofievna would very
likely be pleased to have a peep at a man of her own name. Wait a
little, if you don’t mind, and if you have time to spare?”
“Oh, I assure you I’ve lots of time, my time is entirely my own!” And
the prince immediately replaced his soft, round hat on the table. “I
confess, I thought Elizabetha Prokofievna would very likely remember
that I had written her a letter. Just now your servant—outside
there—was dreadfully suspicious that I had come to beg of you. I
noticed that! Probably he has very strict instructions on that score;
but I assure you I did not come to beg. I came to make some friends.
But I am rather bothered at having disturbed you; that’s all I care
about.—”
“Look here, prince,” said the general, with a cordial smile, “if you
really are the sort of man you appear to be, it may be a source of
great pleasure to us to make your better acquaintance; but, you see, I
am a very busy man, and have to be perpetually sitting here and signing
papers, or off to see his excellency, or to my department, or
somewhere; so that though I should be glad to see more of people, nice
people—you see, I—however, I am sure you are so well brought up that
you will see at once, and—but how old are you, prince?”
“Twenty-six.”
“No? I thought you very much younger.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account