might tryto avoid this vase next day, he must certainly break it? But so it was.
During the evening other impressions began to awaken in his mind, aswe have seen, and he forgot his presentiment. But when Pavlicheff wasmentioned and the general introduced him to Ivan Petrovitch, he hadchanged his place, and went over nearer to the table; when, it sohappened, he took the chair nearest to the beautiful vase, which stoodon a pedestal behind him, just about on a level with his elbow.
As he spoke his last words he had risen suddenly from his seat with awave of his arm, and there was a general cry of horror.
The huge vase swayed backwards and forwards; it seemed to be uncertainwhether or no to topple over on to the head of one of the old men,but eventually determined to go the other way, and came crashing overtowards the German poet, who darted out of the way in terror.
The crash, the cry, the sight of the fragments of valuable chinacovering the carpet, the alarm of the company--what all this meantto the poor prince it would be difficult to convey to the mind of thereader, or for him to imagine.
But one very curious fact was that all the shame and vexation andmortification which he felt over the accident were less powerful thanthe deep impression of the almost supernatural truth of his premonition.He stood still in alarm--in almost superstitious alarm, for a moment;then all mists seemed to clear away from his eyes; he was conscious ofnothing but light and joy and ecstasy; his breath came and went; butthe moment passed. Thank God it was not that! He drew a long breath andlooked around.
For some minutes he did not seem to comprehend the excitement aroundhim; that is, he comprehended it and saw everything, but he stood aside,as it were, like someone invisible in a fairy tale, as though he hadnothing to do with what was going on, though it pleased him to take aninterest in it.
He saw them gather up the broken bits of china; he heard the loudtalking of the guests and observed how pale Aglaya looked, and how verystrangely she was gazing at him. There was no hatred in her expression,and no anger whatever. It was full of alarm for him, and sympathy andaffection, while she looked around at the others with flashing, angryeyes. His heart filled with a sweet pain as he gazed at her.
At length he observed, to his amazement, that all had taken their seatsagain, and were laughing and talking as though nothing had happened.Another minute and the laughter grew louder--they were laughing at him,at his dumb stupor--laughing kindly and merrily. Several of themspoke to him, and spoke so kindly and cordially, especially LizabethaProkofievna--she was saying the kindest possible things to him.
Suddenly he became aware that General Epanchin was tapping him on theshoulder; Ivan Petrovitch was laughing too, but still more kind andsympathizing was the old dignitary. He took the prince by the hand andpressed it warmly; then he patted it, and quietly urged him to recollecthimself--speaking to him exactly as he would have spoken to a littlefrightened child, which pleased the prince wonderfully; and next seatedhim beside himself.
The prince gazed into his face with pleasure, but still seemed to haveno power to speak. His breath failed him. The old man’s face pleased himgreatly.
“Do you really forgive me?” he said at last. “And--and LizabethaProkofievna too?” The laugh increased, tears came into the prince’seyes, he could not believe in all this kindness--he was enchanted.
“The vase certainly was a very beautiful one. I remember it here forfifteen years--yes, quite that!” remarked Ivan Petrovitch.
“Oh, what a dreadful calamity! A wretched vase smashed, and a man halfdead with remorse about it,” said Lizabetha Prokofievna, loudly. “Whatmade you so dreadfully startled, Lef Nicolaievitch?” she added, a littletimidly. “Come, my dear boy! cheer up. You really alarm me, taking theaccident so to heart.”
“Do you forgive me all--_all_, besides the vase, I mean?” said the prince,rising from his seat once more, but the old gentleman caught his handand drew him down again--he seemed unwilling to let him go.
“_C’est très-curieux et c’est très-sérieux_,” he whispered across thetable to Ivan Petrovitch, rather loudly. Probably the prince heard him.
“So that I have not offended any of you? You will not believe how happyI am to be able to think so. It is as it should be. As if I _could_ offendanyone here! I should offend you again by even suggesting such a thing.”
“Calm yourself, my dear fellow. You are exaggerating again; you reallyhave no occasion to be so grateful to us. It is a feeling which does yougreat credit, but an exaggeration, for all that.”
“I am not exactly thanking you, I am only feeling a growing admirationfor you--it makes me happy to look at you. I dare say I am speaking veryfoolishly, but I must speak--I must explain, if it be out of nothingbetter than self-respect.”
All he said and did was abrupt, confused, feverish--very likely thewords he spoke, as often as not, were not those he wished to say. Heseemed to inquire whether he _might_ speak. His eyes lighted on PrincessBielokonski.
“All right, my friend, talk away, talk away!” she remarked. “Only don’tlose your breath; you were in such a hurry when you began, and look whatyou’ve come to now! Don’t be afraid of speaking--all these ladiesand gentlemen have seen far stranger people than yourself; you don’tastonish _them_. You are nothing out-of-the-way remarkable, you know.You’ve done nothing but break a vase, and give us all a fright.”
The prince listened, smiling.
“Wasn’t it you,” he said, suddenly turning to the old gentleman, “whosaved the student Porkunoff and a clerk called Shoabrin from being sentto Siberia, two or three months since?”
The old dignitary blushed a little, and murmured that the prince hadbetter not excite himself further.
“And I have heard of _you_,” continued the prince, addressing IvanPetrovitch, “that when some of your villagers were burned out you gavethem wood to build up their houses again, though they were no longeryour serfs and had behaved badly towards you.”
“Oh, come, come! You are exaggerating,” said Ivan Petrovitch, beamingwith satisfaction, all the same. He was right, however, in thisinstance, for the report had reached the prince’s ears in an incorrectform.
“And you, princess,” he went on, addressing Princess Bielokonski, “wasit not you who received me in Moscow, six months since, as kindly asthough I had been your own son, in response to a letter from LizabethaProkofievna; and gave me one piece of advice, again as to your own son,which I shall never forget? Do you remember?”
“What are you making such a fuss about?” said the old lady, withannoyance. “You are a good fellow, but very silly. One gives you ahalfpenny, and you are as grateful as though one had saved your life.You think this is praiseworthy on your part, but it is not--it is not,indeed.”
She seemed to be very angry, but suddenly burst out laughing, quitegood-humouredly.
Lizabetha Prokofievna’s face brightened up, too; so did that of GeneralEpanchin.
“I told you Lef Nicolaievitch was a man--a man--if only he would notbe in such a hurry, as the princess remarked,” said the latter, withdelight.
Aglaya alone seemed sad and depressed; her face was flushed, perhapswith indignation.
“He really is very charming,” whispered the old dignitary to IvanPetrovitch.
“I came into this room with anguish in my heart,” continued the prince,with ever-growing agitation, speaking quicker and quicker, and withincreasing strangeness. “I--I was afraid of you all, and afraid ofmyself. I was most afraid of myself. When I returned to Petersburg, Ipromised myself to make a point of seeing our greatest men, and membersof our oldest families--the old families like my own. I am now amongprinces like myself, am I not? I wished to know you, and it wasnecessary, very, very necessary. I had always heard so much that wasevil said of you all--more evil than good; as to how small and pettywere your interests, how absurd your habits, how shallow your education,and so on. There is so much written and said about you! I came heretoday with anxious curiosity; I wished to see for myself and form myown convictions as to wheth
er it were true that the whole of this upperstratum of Russian society is _worthless_, has outlived its time, hasexisted too long, and is only fit to die--and yet is dying with petty,spiteful warring against that which is destined to supersede it and takeits place--hindering the Coming Men, and knowing not that itself is ina dying condition. I did not fully believe in this view even before, forthere never was such a class among us--excepting perhaps at court, byaccident--or by uniform; but now there is not even that, is there? Ithas vanished, has it not?”
“No, not a bit of it,” said Ivan Petrovitch, with a sarcastic laugh.
“Good Lord, he’s off again!” said Princess Bielokonski, impatiently.
“Laissez-le dire! He is trembling all over,” said the old man, in awarning whisper.
The prince certainly was beside himself.
“Well? What have I seen?” he continued. “I have seen men of gracefulsimplicity of intellect; I have seen an old man who is not abovespeaking kindly and even _listening_ to a boy like myself; I see beforeme persons who can understand, who can forgive--kind, good Russianhearts--hearts