ied to get upon his feet again, but the old man still restrained
him, gazing at him with increasing perturbation as he went on.

"Listen--I know it is best not to speak! It is best simply to give a
good example--simply to begin the work. I have done this--I have
begun, and--and--oh! CAN anyone be unhappy, really? Oh! what does grief
matter--what does misfortune matter, if one knows how to be happy? Do
you know, I cannot understand how anyone can pass by a green tree, and
not feel happy only to look at it! How anyone can talk to a man and not
feel happy in loving him! Oh, it is my own fault that I cannot express
myself well enough! But there are lovely things at every step I
take--things which even the most miserable man must recognize as
beautiful. Look at a little child--look at God's day-dawn--look at the
grass growing--look at the eyes that love you, as they gaze back into
your eyes!"

He had risen, and was speaking standing up. The old gentleman was
looking at him now in unconcealed alarm. Lizabetha Prokofievna wrung her
hands. "Oh, my God!" she cried. She had guessed the state of the case
before anyone else.

Aglaya rushed quickly up to him, and was just in time to receive him in
her arms, and to hear with dread and horror that awful, wild cry as he
fell writhing to the ground.

There he lay on the carpet, and someone quickly placed a cushion under
his head.

No one had expected this.

In a quarter of an hour or so Prince N. and Evgenie Pavlovitch and the
old dignitary were hard at work endeavouring to restore the harmony
of the evening, but it was of no avail, and very soon after the guests
separated and went their ways.

A great deal of sympathy was expressed; a considerable amount of advice
was volunteered; Ivan Petrovitch expressed his opinion that the young
man was "a Slavophile, or something of that sort"; but that it was not a
dangerous development. The old dignitary said nothing.

True enough, most of the guests, next day and the day after, were not
in very good humour. Ivan Petrovitch was a little offended, but not
seriously so. General Epanchin's chief was rather cool towards him for
some while after the occurrence. The old dignitary, as patron of the
family, took the opportunity of murmuring some kind of admonition to the
general, and added, in flattering terms, that he was most interested
in Aglaya's future. He was a man who really did possess a kind heart,
although his interest in the prince,