cked in one another's arms, mingling
their tears.

These were the tears of joy and peace and reconciliation. Aglaya was
kissing her mother's lips and cheeks and hands; they were hugging each
other in the most ardent way.

"There, look at her now--Ivan Fedorovitch! Here she is--all of her! This
is our REAL Aglaya at last!" said Lizabetha Prokofievna.

Aglaya raised her happy, tearful face from her mother's breast, glanced
at her father, and burst out laughing. She sprang at him and hugged him
too, and kissed him over and over again. She then rushed back to her
mother and hid her face in the maternal bosom, and there indulged in
more tears. Her mother covered her with a corner of her shawl.

"Oh, you cruel little girl! How will you treat us all next, I wonder?"
she said, but she spoke with a ring of joy in her voice, and as though
she breathed at last without the oppression which she had felt so long.

"Cruel?" sobbed Aglaya. "Yes, I AM cruel, and worthless, and
spoiled--tell father so,--oh, here he is--I forgot Father, listen!" She
laughed through her tears.

"My darling, my little idol," cried the general, kissing and fondling
her hands (Aglaya did not draw them away); "so you love this young man,
do you?"

"No, no, no, can't BEAR him, I can't BEAR your young man!" cried
Aglaya, raising her head. "And if you dare say that ONCE more, papa--I'm
serious, you know, I'm,--do you hear me--I'm serious!"

She certainly did seem to be serious enough. She had flushed up all over
and her eyes were blazing.

The general felt troubled and remained silent, while Lizabetha
Prokofievna telegraphed to him from behind Aglaya to ask no questions.

"If that's the case, darling--then, of course, you shall do exactly as
you like. He is waiting alone downstairs. Hadn't I better hint to him
gently that he can go?" The general telegraphed to Lizabetha Prokofievna
in his turn.

"No, no, you needn't do anything of the sort; you mustn't hint gently
at all. I'll go down myself directly. I wish to apologize to this young
man, because I hurt his feelings."

"Yes, SERIOUSLY," said the general, gravely.

"Well, you'd better stay here, all of you, for a little, and I'll go
down to him alone to begin with. I'll just go in and then you can follow
me almost at once. That's the best way."

She had almost reached the door when she turned round again.

"I shall laugh--I know I shall; I shall die of laughing," she said,
lugubriously.

Howe