o
words.)

It would be difficult to describe the animation and high spirits which
distinguished the prince for the rest of the evening.

He was so happy that "it made one feel happy to look at him," as
Aglaya's sisters expressed it afterwards. He talked, and told stories
just as he had done once before, and never since, namely on the very
first morning of his acquaintance with the Epanchins, six months ago.
Since his return to Petersburg from Moscow, he had been remarkably
silent, and had told Prince S. on one occasion, before everyone, that he
did not think himself justified in degrading any thought by his unworthy
words.

But this evening he did nearly all the talking himself, and told stories
by the dozen, while he answered all questions put to him clearly,
gladly, and with any amount of detail.

There was nothing, however, of love-making in his talk. His ideas were
all of the most serious kind; some were even mystical and profound.

He aired his own views on various matters, some of his most private
opinions and observations, many of which would have seemed rather funny,
so his hearers agreed afterwards, had they not been so well expressed.

The general liked serious subjects of conversation; but both he and
Lizabetha Prokofievna felt that they were having a little too much of a
good thing tonight, and as the evening advanced, they both grew more
or less melancholy; but towards night, the prince fell to telling funny
stories, and was always the first to burst out laughing himself, which
he invariably did so joyously and simply that the rest laughed just as
much at him as at his stories.

As for Aglaya, she hardly said a word all the evening; but she listened
with all her ears to Lef Nicolaievitch's talk, and scarcely took her
eyes off him.

"She looked at him, and stared and stared, and hung on every word he
said," said Lizabetha afterwards, to her husband, "and yet, tell her
that she loves him, and she is furious!"

"What's to be done? It's fate," said the general, shrugging his
shoulders, and, for a long while after, he continued to repeat: "It's
fate, it's fate!"

We may add that to a business man like General Epanchin the present
position of affairs was most unsatisfactory. He hated the uncertainty in
which they had been, perforce, left. However, he decided to say no
more about it, and merely to look on, and take his time and tune from
Lizabetha Prokofievna.

The happy state in which the family ha