is principles, we may
acknowledge that he engaged in the business with very little personal
aim in view. At the instigation of Tchebaroff and his other friends,
he decided to make the attempt in the service of truth, progress, and
humanity. In short, the conclusion may be drawn that, in spite of all
appearances, Mr. Burdovsky is a man of irreproachable character, and
thus the prince can all the more readily offer him his friendship, and
the assistance of which he spoke just now..."

"Hush! hush! Gavrila Ardalionovitch!" cried Muishkin in dismay, but it
was too late.

"I said, and I have repeated it over and over again," shouted Burdovsky
furiously, "that I did not want the money. I will not take it... why...I
will not... I am going away!"

He was rushing hurriedly from the terrace, when Lebedeff's nephew seized
his arms, and said something to him in a low voice. Burdovsky turned
quickly, and drawing an addressed but unsealed envelope from his pocket,
he threw it down on a little table beside the prince.

"There's the money!... How dare you?... The money!"

"Those are the two hundred and fifty roubles you dared to send him as a
charity, by the hands of Tchebaroff," explained Doktorenko.

"The article in the newspaper put it at fifty!" cried Colia.

"I beg your pardon," said the prince, going up to Burdovsky. "I have
done you a great wrong, but I did not send you that money as a charity,
believe me. And now I am again to blame. I offended you just now." (The
prince was much distressed; he seemed worn out with fatigue, and spoke
almost incoherently.) "I spoke of swindling... but I did not apply that
to you. I was deceived .... I said you were... afflicted... like me...
But you are not like me... you give lessons... you support your mother.
I said you had dishonoured your mother, but you love her. She says so
herself... I did not know... Gavrila Ardalionovitch did not tell me
that... Forgive me! I dared to offer you ten thousand roubles, but I was
wrong. I ought to have done it differently, and now... there is no way
of doing it, for you despise me..."

"I declare, this is a lunatic asylum!" cried Lizabetha Prokofievna.

"Of course it is a lunatic asylum!" repeated Aglaya sharply, but her
words were overpowered by other voices. Everybody was talking loudly,
making remarks and comments; some discussed the affair gravely, others
laughed. Ivan Fedorovitch Epanchin was extremely indignant. He stood
waiting for his wif