But the situation was becoming rapidly critical.
Mrs. Epanchin could bear her suspense no longer, and in spite of the opposition of husband and daughters, she sent for Aglaya, determined to get a straightforward answer out of her, once for all.
“Otherwise,” she observed hysterically, “I shall die before evening.”
It was only now that everyone realized to what a ridiculous deadlock the whole matter had been brought. Excepting feigned surprise, indignation, laughter, and jeering—both at the prince and at everyone who asked her questions—nothing could be got out of Aglaya.
Lizabetha Prokofievna went to bed and only rose again in time for tea, when the prince might be expected.
She awaited him in trembling agitation; and when he at last arrived she nearly went off into hysterics.
Muishkin himself came in very timidly. He seemed to feel his way, and looked in each person’s eyes in a questioning way—for Aglaya was absent, which fact alarmed him at once.
This evening there were no strangers present—no one but the immediate members of the family. Prince S⸺ was still in town, occupied with the affairs of Evgenie Pavlovitch’s uncle.
“I wish at least he would come and say something!” complained poor Lizabetha Prokofievna.
The general sat still with a most preoccupied air. The sisters were looking very serious and did not speak a word, and Lizabetha Prokofievna did not know how to commence the conversation.
At length she plunged into an energetic and hostile criticism of railways, and glared at the prince defiantly.
Alas Aglaya still did not come—and the prince was quite lost. He had the greatest difficulty in expressing his opinion that railways were most useful institutions—and in the middle of his speech Adelaida laughed, which threw him into a still worse state of confusion.
At this moment in marched Aglaya, as calm and collected as could be. She gave the prince a ceremonious bow and solemnly took up a prominent position near the big round table. She looked at the prince questioningly.
All present realized that the moment for the settlement of perplexities had arrived.
“Did you get my hedgehog?” she inquired, firmly and almost angrily.
“Yes, I got it,” said the prince, blushing.
“Tell us now, at once, what you made of the present? I must have you answer this question for mother’s sake; she needs pacifying, and so do all the rest of the family!”
“Look here, Aglaya—” began the general.
“This—this is going beyond all limits!” said Lizabetha Prokofievna, suddenly alarmed.
“It is not in the least beyond all limits, mamma!” said her daughter, firmly. “I sent the prince a hedgehog this morning, and I wish to hear his opinion of it. Go on, prince.”
“What—what sort of opinion, Aglaya Ivanovna?”
“About the hedgehog.”
“That is—I suppose you wish to know how I received the hedgehog, Aglaya Ivanovna—or, I should say, how I regarded your sending him to me? In that case, I may tell you—in a word—that I—in fact—”
He paused, breathless.
“Come—you haven’t told us much!” said Aglaya, after waiting some five seconds. “Very well, I am ready to drop the hedgehog, if you like; but I am anxious to be able to clear up this accumulation of misunderstandings. Allow me to ask you, prince—I wish to hear from you, personally—are you making me an offer, or not?”
“Gracious heavens!” exclaimed Lizabetha Prokofievna. The prince started. The general stiffened in his chair; the sisters frowned.
“Don’t deceive me now, prince—tell the truth. All these people persecute me with astounding questions—about you. Is there any ground for all these questions, or not? Come!”
“I have not asked you to marry me yet, Aglaya Ivanovna,” said the prince, becoming suddenly animated; “but you know yourself how much I love you and trust you.”
“No—I asked you this—answer this! Do you intend to ask for my hand, or not?”
“Yes—I do ask for it!” said the prince, more dead than alive now.
There was a general stir in the room.
“No—no—my dear girl,” began the general. “You cannot proceed like this, Aglaya, if that’s how the matter stands. It’s impossible. Prince, forgive it, my dear fellow, but—Lizabetha Prokofievna!”—he appealed to his spouse for help—“you must really—”
“Not I—not I! I retire from all responsibility,” said Lizabetha Prokofievna, with a wave of the hand.
“Allow me to speak, please, mamma,” said Aglaya. “I think I ought to have something to say in the matter. An important moment of my destiny is about to be decided”—(this is how Aglaya expressed herself)—“and I wish to find out how the matter stands, for my own sake, though I am glad you are all here. Allow me to ask you, prince, since you cherish those intentions, how you consider that you will provide for my happiness?”
“I—I don’t quite know how to answer your question, Aglaya Ivanovna. What is there to say to such a question? And—and must I answer?”
“I think you are rather overwhelmed and out of breath. Have a little rest, and try to recover yourself. Take a glass of water, or—but they’ll give you some tea directly.”
“I love you, Aglaya Ivanovna—I love you very much. I love only you—and—please don’t jest about it, for I do love you very much.”
“Well, this matter is important. We are not children—we must look into it thoroughly. Now then, kindly tell me—what does your fortune consist of?”
“No—Aglaya—come, enough of this, you mustn’t behave like this,” said her father, in dismay.
“It’s disgraceful,” said Lizabetha Prokofievna in a loud whisper.
“She’s mad—quite!” said Alexandra.
“Fortune—money—do you mean?” asked the prince in some surprise.
“Just so.”
“I have now—let’s see—I have 135,000 roubles,” said the prince, blushing violently.
“Is that all, really?” said Aglaya, candidly, without the slightest show of confusion. “However, it’s not so bad, especially if managed with economy. Do you intend to serve?”
“I—I intended to try for a certificate as private tutor.”
“Very good. That would increase our income nicely. Have you any intention of being a Kammer-junker?”
“A Kammer-junker? I had not thought of it, but—”
But here the two sisters could restrain themselves no longer, and both of them burst
