said several of his friends. "The troikas [Sledges
drawn by three horses abreast.] are at the door, bells and all."

Nastasia Philipovna seized the packet of bank-notes.

"Gania, I have an idea. I wish to recompense you--why should you
lose all? Rogojin, would he crawl for three roubles as far as the
Vassiliostrof?

"Oh, wouldn't he just!"

"Well, look here, Gania. I wish to look into your heart once more, for
the last time. You've worried me for the last three months--now it's my
turn. Do you see this packet? It contains a hundred thousand roubles.
Now, I'm going to throw it into the fire, here--before all these
witnesses. As soon as the fire catches hold of it, you put your hands
into the fire and pick it out--without gloves, you know. You must have
bare hands, and you must turn your sleeves up. Pull it out, I say, and
it's all yours. You may burn your fingers a little, of course; but then
it's a hundred thousand roubles, remember--it won't take you long to lay
hold of it and snatch it out. I shall so much admire you if you put your
hands into the fire for my money. All here present may be witnesses that
the whole packet of money is yours if you get it out. If you don't get
it out, it shall burn. I will let no one else come; away--get away, all
of you--it's my money! Rogojin has bought me with it. Is it my money,
Rogojin?"

"Yes, my queen; it's your own money, my joy."

"Get away then, all of you. I shall do as I like with my own--don't
meddle! Ferdishenko, make up the fire, quick!"

"Nastasia Philipovna, I can't; my hands won't obey me," said
Ferdishenko, astounded and helpless with bewilderment.

"Nonsense," cried Nastasia Philipovna, seizing the poker and raking a
couple of logs together. No sooner did a tongue of flame burst out than
she threw the packet of notes upon it.

Everyone gasped; some even crossed themselves.

"She's mad--she's mad!" was the cry.

"Oughtn't-oughtn't we to secure her?" asked the general of Ptitsin, in
a whisper; "or shall we send for the authorities? Why, she's mad, isn't
she--isn't she, eh?"

"N-no, I hardly think she is actually mad," whispered Ptitsin, who was
as white as his handkerchief, and trembling like a leaf. He could not
take his eyes off the smouldering packet.

"She's mad surely, isn't she?" the general appealed to Totski.

"I told you she wasn't an ordinary woman," replied the latter, who was
as pale as anyone.

"Oh, but, positively, you know--a hundred th