coming out alone.

"Gavrila Ardalionovitch begged me to give you this," he said, handing
her the note.

Aglaya stopped, took the letter, and gazed strangely into the prince's
eyes. There was no confusion in her face; a little surprise, perhaps,
but that was all. By her look she seemed merely to challenge the prince
to an explanation as to how he and Gania happened to be connected in
this matter. But her expression was perfectly cool and quiet, and even
condescending.

So they stood for a moment or two, confronting one another. At length a
faint smile passed over her face, and she passed by him without a word.

Mrs. Epanchin examined the portrait of Nastasia Philipovna for some
little while, holding it critically at arm's length.

"Yes, she is pretty," she said at last, "even very pretty. I have seen
her twice, but only at a distance. So you admire this kind of beauty, do
you?" she asked the prince, suddenly.

"Yes, I do--this kind."

"Do you mean especially this kind?"

"Yes, especially this kind."

"Why?"

"There is much suffering in this face," murmured the prince, more as
though talking to himself than answering the question.

"I think you are wandering a little, prince," Mrs. Epanchin decided,
after a lengthened survey of his face; and she tossed the portrait on to
the table, haughtily.

Alexandra took it, and Adelaida came up, and both the girls examined the
photograph. Just then Aglaya entered the room.

"What a power!" cried Adelaida suddenly, as she earnestly examined the
portrait over her sister's shoulder.

"Whom? What power?" asked her mother, crossly.

"Such beauty is real power," said Adelaida. "With such beauty as that
one might overthrow the world." She returned to her easel thoughtfully.

Aglaya merely glanced at the portrait--frowned, and put out her
underlip; then went and sat down on the sofa with folded hands. Mrs.
Epanchin rang the bell.

"Ask Gavrila Ardalionovitch to step this way," said she to the man who
answered.

"Mamma!" cried Alexandra, significantly.

"I shall just say two words to him, that's all," said her mother,
silencing all objection by her manner; she was evidently seriously put
out. "You see, prince, it is all secrets with us, just now--all secrets.
It seems to be the etiquette of the house, for some reason or, other.
Stupid nonsense, and in a matter which ought to be approached with all
candour and open-heartedness. There is a marriage being talked of, and