ugh he may feel no remorse whatever. And they
were all like this. Those of whom Evgenie Pavlovitch has spoken, do not
admit that they are criminals at all; they think they had a right to
do what they did, and that they were even doing a good deed, perhaps.
I consider there is the greatest difference between the two cases.
And recollect--it was a YOUTH, at the particular age which is most
helplessly susceptible to the distortion of ideas!"

Prince S. was now no longer smiling; he gazed at the prince in
bewilderment.

Alexandra, who had seemed to wish to put in her word when the prince
began, now sat silent, as though some sudden thought had caused her to
change her mind about speaking.

Evgenie Pavlovitch gazed at him in real surprise, and this time his
expression of face had no mockery in it whatever.

"What are you looking so surprised about, my friend?" asked Mrs.
Epanchin, suddenly. "Did you suppose he was stupider than yourself, and
was incapable of forming his own opinions, or what?"

"No! Oh no! Not at all!" said Evgenie. "But--how is it, prince, that
you--(excuse the question, will you?)--if you are capable of observing
and seeing things as you evidently do, how is it that you saw nothing
distorted or perverted in that claim upon your property, which you
acknowledged a day or two since; and which was full of arguments founded
upon the most distorted views of right and wrong?"

"I'll tell you what, my friend," cried Mrs. Epanchin, of a sudden, "here
are we all sitting here and imagining we are very clever, and perhaps
laughing at the prince, some of us, and meanwhile he has received a
letter this very day in which that same claimant renounces his claim,
and begs the prince's pardon. There I we don't often get that sort of
letter; and yet we are not ashamed to walk with our noses in the air
before him."

"And Hippolyte has come down here to stay," said Colia, suddenly.

"What! has he arrived?" said the prince, starting up.

"Yes, I brought him down from town just after you had left the house."

"There now! It's just like him," cried Lizabetha Prokofievna, boiling
over once more, and entirely oblivious of the fact that she had
just taken the prince's part. "I dare swear that you went up to town
yesterday on purpose to get the little wretch to do you the great honour
of coming to stay at your house. You did go up to town, you know you
did--you said so yourself! Now then, did you, or did you not, go down on