ng I must beg of you-if my husband applies to you for payment
for board and lodging, tell him that you have already paid me. Of course
anything paid by you to the general would be as fully settled as if
paid to me, so far as you are concerned; but I wish it to be so, if you
please, for convenience' sake. What is it, Varia?"

Varia had quietly entered the room, and was holding out the portrait of
Nastasia Philipovna to her mother.

Nina Alexandrovna started, and examined the photograph intently, gazing
at it long and sadly. At last she looked up inquiringly at Varia.

"It's a present from herself to him," said Varia; "the question is to be
finally decided this evening."

"This evening!" repeated her mother in a tone of despair, but softly,
as though to herself. "Then it's all settled, of course, and there's no
hope left to us. She has anticipated her answer by the present of her
portrait. Did he show it you himself?" she added, in some surprise.

"You know we have hardly spoken to each other for a whole month. Ptitsin
told me all about it; and the photo was lying under the table, and I
picked it up."

"Prince," asked Nina Alexandrovna, "I wanted to inquire whether you have
known my son long? I think he said that you had only arrived today from
somewhere."

The prince gave a short narrative of what we have heard before, leaving
out the greater part. The two ladies listened intently.

"I did not ask about Gania out of curiosity," said the elder, at last.
"I wish to know how much you know about him, because he said just now
that we need not stand on ceremony with you. What, exactly, does that
mean?"

At this moment Gania and Ptitsin entered the room together, and Nina
Alexandrovna immediately became silent again. The prince remained seated
next to her, but Varia moved to the other end of the room; the portrait
of Nastasia Philipovna remained lying as before on the work-table. Gania
observed it there, and with a frown of annoyance snatched it up and
threw it across to his writing-table, which stood at the other end of
the room.

"Is it today, Gania?" asked Nina Alexandrovna, at last.

"Is what today?" cried the former. Then suddenly recollecting himself,
he turned sharply on the prince. "Oh," he growled, "I see, you are here,
that explains it! Is it a disease, or what, that you can't hold your
tongue? Look here, understand once for all, prince--"

"I am to blame in this, Gania--no one else," said Ptitsin.

Ga