“Yes. It was all just as I told you, Maria Alexandrovna!” begins Mosgliakoff readily—delighted to repeat his story ten times over, if required—“I had driven all night, and not slept a wink. You can imagine what a hurry I was in to arrive here,” he adds, turning to Zina; “in a word, I swore at the driver, yelled for fresh horses, kicked up a row at every post station: my adventures would fill a volume. Well, exactly at six o’clock in the morning I arrived at the last station, Igishova. ‘Horses, horses!’ I shouted, ‘let’s have fresh horses quick; I’m not going to get out.’ I frightened the post-station man’s wife out of her wits; she had a small baby in her arms, and I have an idea that its mother’s fright will affect said baby’s supply of the needful. Well, the sunrise was splendid—fine frosty morning—lovely! but I hadn’t time to look at anything. I got my horses—I had to deprive some other traveller of his pair; he was a professor, and we nearly fought a duel about it. “They told me some prince had driven off a quarter of an hour ago. He had slept here, and was driving his own horses; but I didn’t attend to anything. Well, just seven miles from town, at a turn of the road, I saw that some surprising event had happened. A huge travelling carriage was lying on its side; the coachman and two flunkeys stood outside it, apparently dazed, while from inside the carriage came heart-rending lamentations and cries. I thought I’d pass by and let them all be—; it was no affair of mine: but humanity insisted, and would not take a denial. (I think it is Heine says that humanity shoves its nose in everywhere!) So I stopped; and my driver and myself, with the other fellows, lifted the carriage on to its legs again, or perhaps I should say wheels, as it had no legs. “I thought to myself, ‘This is that very prince they mentioned!’ So, I looked in. Good Heavens! it was our prince! Here was a meeting, if you like! I yelled at him, ‘Prince—uncle!’ Of course he hardly knew me at the first glance, but he very soon recognised me. At least, I don’t believe he knows who I am really, even _now_; I think he takes me for someone else, not a relation. I saw him last seven years ago, as a boy; I remember _him_, because he struck me so; but how was he to remember _me_? At all events, I told him my name, and he embraced me ecstatically; and all the while he himself was crying and trembling with fright. He really was _crying_, I’ll take my oath he was! I saw it with my own eyes.