“Well then, have you come here for _her?_ Are you in love with _her?_ With _that_ creature?” “I did not come to marry at all,” replied the prince. “Is there anything you hold sacred?” “There is.” “Then swear by it that you did not come here to marry _her!_” “I’ll swear it by whatever you please.” “I believe you. You may kiss me; I breathe freely at last. But you must know, my dear friend, Aglaya does not love you, and she shall never be your wife while I am out of my grave. So be warned in time. Do you hear me?” “Yes, I hear.” The prince flushed up so much that he could not look her in the face. “I have waited for you with the greatest impatience (not that you were worth it). Every night I have drenched my pillow with tears, not for you, my friend, not for you, don’t flatter yourself! I have my own grief, always the same, always the same. But I’ll tell you why I have been awaiting you so impatiently, because I believe that Providence itself sent you to be a friend and a brother to me. I haven’t a friend in the world except Princess Bielokonski, and she is growing as stupid as a sheep from old age. Now then, tell me, yes or no? Do you know why she called out from her carriage the other night?” “I give you my word of honour that I had nothing to do with the matter and know nothing about it.” “Very well, I believe you. I have my own ideas about it. Up to yesterday morning I thought it was really Evgenie Pavlovitch who was to blame; now I cannot help agreeing with the others. But why he was made such a fool of I cannot understand. However, he is not going to marry Aglaya, I can tell you that. He may be a very excellent fellow, but—so it shall be. I was not at all sure of accepting him before, but now I have quite made up my mind that I won’t have him. ‘Put me in my coffin first and then into my grave, and then you may marry my daughter to whomsoever you please,’ so I said to the general this very morning. You see how I trust you, my boy.” “Yes, I see and understand.” Mrs. Epanchin gazed keenly into the prince’s eyes. She was anxious to see what impression the news as to Evgenie Pavlovitch had made upon him. “Do you know anything about Gavrila Ardalionovitch?” she asked at last. “Oh yes, I know a good deal.” “Did you know he had communications with Aglaya?” “No, I didn’t,” said the prince, trembling a little, and in great agitation. “You say Gavrila Ardalionovitch has private communications with Aglaya?—Impossible!” “Only quite lately. His sister has been working like a rat to clear the way for him all the winter.” “I don’t believe it!” said the prince abruptly, after a short pause. “Had it been so I should have known long ago.” “Oh, of course, yes; he would have come and wept out his secret on your bosom. Oh, you simpleton—you simpleton! Anyone can deceive you and take you in like a—like a,—aren’t you ashamed to trust him? Can’t you see that he humbugs you just as much as ever he pleases?”