, shows that he thinks it
very improper. He-he!" He burst out laughing, and was seized with a
fit of coughing which lasted for two minutes and prevented him from
speaking.

"He has lost his breath now!" said Lizabetha Prokofievna coldly, looking
at him with more curiosity than pity: "Come, my dear boy, that is quite
enough--let us make an end of this."

Ivan Fedorovitch, now quite out of patience, interrupted suddenly. "Let
me remark in my turn, sir," he said in tones of deep annoyance, "that
my wife is here as the guest of Prince Lef Nicolaievitch, our friend and
neighbour, and that in any case, young man, it is not for you to pass
judgment on the conduct of Lizabetha Prokofievna, or to make remarks
aloud in my presence concerning what feelings you think may be read
in my face. Yes, my wife stayed here," continued the general, with
increasing irritation, "more out of amazement than anything else.
Everyone can understand that a collection of such strange young men
would attract the attention of a person interested in contemporary life.
I stayed myself, just as I sometimes stop to look on in the street when
I see something that may be regarded as-as-as-"

"As a curiosity," suggested Evgenie Pavlovitch, seeing his excellency
involved in a comparison which he could not complete.

"That is exactly the word I wanted," said the general with
satisfaction--"a curiosity. However, the most astonishing and, if I may
so express myself, the most painful, thing in this matter, is that you
cannot even understand, young man, that Lizabetha Prokofievna, only
stayed with you because you are ill,--if you really are dying--moved
by the pity awakened by your plaintive appeal, and that her
name, character, and social position place her above all risk of
contamination. Lizabetha Prokofievna!" he continued, now crimson with
rage, "if you are coming, we will say goodnight to the prince, and--"

"Thank you for the lesson, general," said Hippolyte, with unexpected
gravity, regarding him thoughtfully.

"Two minutes more, if you please, dear Ivan Fedorovitch," said Lizabetha
Prokofievna to her husband; "it seems to me that he is in a fever
and delirious; you can see by his eyes what a state he is in; it is
impossible to let him go back to Petersburg tonight. Can you put him
up, Lef Nicolaievitch? I hope you are not bored, dear prince," she
added suddenly to Prince S. "Alexandra, my dear, come here! Your hair is
coming down."

She arranged