Historical fiction; Russia -- Social conditions -- 1801-1917 -- Fiction
They sat now in a row facing the prince, and frowned, and played with
their caps. All appeared ready to speak, and yet all were silent; the
defiant expression on their faces seemed to say, “No, sir, you don’t
take us in!” It could be felt that the first word spoken by anyone
present would bring a torrent of speech from the whole deputation.
VIII.
“I _did_ not expect you, gentlemen,” began the prince. “I have been ill
until to-day. A month ago,” he continued, addressing himself to Antip
Burdovsky, “I put your business into Gavrila Ardalionovitch Ivolgin’s
hands, as I told you then. I do not in the least object to having a
personal interview... but you will agree with me that this is hardly
the time... I propose that we go into another room, if you will not
keep me long... As you see, I have friends here, and believe me...”
“Friends as many as you please, but allow me,” interrupted the harsh
voice of Lebedeff’s nephew—“allow me to tell you that you might have
treated us rather more politely, and not have kept us waiting at least
two hours...
“No doubt... and I... is that acting like a prince? And you... you may
be a general! But I... I am not your valet! And I... I...” stammered
Antip Burdovsky.
He was extremely excited; his lips trembled, and the resentment of an
embittered soul was in his voice. But he spoke so indistinctly that
hardly a dozen words could be gathered.
“It was a princely action!” sneered Hippolyte.
“If anyone had treated me so,” grumbled the boxer.
“I mean to say that if I had been in Burdovsky’s place...I...”
“Gentlemen, I did not know you were there; I have only just been
informed, I assure you,” repeated Muishkin.
“We are not afraid of your friends, prince,” remarked Lebedeff’s
nephew, “for we are within our rights.”
The shrill tones of Hippolyte interrupted him. “What right have you...
by what right do you demand us to submit this matter, about
Burdovsky... to the judgment of your friends? We know only too well
what the judgment of your friends will be!...”
This beginning gave promise of a stormy discussion. The prince was much
discouraged, but at last he managed to make himself heard amid the
vociferations of his excited visitors.
“If you,” he said, addressing Burdovsky—“if you prefer not to speak
here, I offer again to go into another room with you... and as to your
waiting to see me, I repeat that I only this instant heard...”
“Well, you have no right, you have no right, no right at all!... Your
friends indeed!”... gabbled Burdovsky, defiantly examining the faces
round him, and becoming more and more excited. “You have no right!...”
As he ended thus abruptly, he leant forward, staring at the prince with
his short-sighted, bloodshot eyes. The latter was so astonished, that
he did not reply, but looked steadily at him in return.
“Lef Nicolaievitch!” interposed Madame Epanchin, suddenly, “read this
at once, this very moment! It is about this business.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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