he had
changed his place, and went over nearer to the table; when, it so
happened, he took the chair nearest to the beautiful vase, which stood
on 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 a
wave of his arm, and there was a general cry of horror.
The huge vase swayed backwards and forwards; it seemed to be uncertain
whether 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 over
towards the German poet, who darted out of the way in terror.
The crash, the cry, the sight of the fragments of valuable china
covering the carpet, the alarm of the company--what all this meant
to the poor prince it would be difficult to convey to the mind of the
reader, or for him to imagine.
But one very curious fact was that all the shame and vexation and
mortification which he felt over the accident were less powerful than
the 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 of
nothing but light and joy and ecstasy; his breath came and went; but
the moment passed. Thank God it was not that! He drew a long breath and
looked around.
For some minutes he did not seem to comprehend the excitement around
him; 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 had
nothing to do with what was going on, though it pleased him to take an
interest in it.
He saw them gather up the broken bits of china; he heard the loud
talking of the guests and observed how pale Aglaya looked, and how very
strangely 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 and
affection, while she looked around at the others with flashing, angry
eyes. His heart filled with a sweet pain as he gazed at her.
At length he observed, to his amazement, that all had taken their seats
again, 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 them
spoke to him, and spoke so kindly and cordially, especially Lizabetha
Prokofievna--she was saying the kindest possibl
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