The prince, returning home from the interview with Aglaya, had sat
gloomy and depressed for half an hour. He was almost in despair when
Colia arrived with the hedgehog.

Then the sky cleared in a moment. The prince seemed to arise from the
dead; he asked Colia all about it, made him repeat the story over and
over again, and laughed and shook hands with the boys in his delight.

It seemed clear to the prince that Aglaya forgave him, and that he might
go there again this very evening; and in his eyes that was not only the
main thing, but everything in the world.

"What children we are still, Colia!" he cried at last,
enthusiastically,--"and how delightful it is that we can be children
still!"

"Simply--my dear prince,--simply she is in love with you,--that's the
whole of the secret!" replied Colia, with authority.

The prince blushed, but this time he said nothing. Colia burst out
laughing and clapped his hands. A minute later the prince laughed too,
and from this moment until the evening he looked at his watch every
other minute to see how much time he had to wait before evening came.

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 dead-lock
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