ire?"

"There was no cap in it," Keller announced.

It would be difficult to describe the pitiable scene that now followed.
The first sensation of alarm soon gave place to amusement; some
burst out laughing loud and heartily, and seemed to find a malicious
satisfaction in the joke. Poor Hippolyte sobbed hysterically; he wrung
his hands; he approached everyone in turn--even Ferdishenko--and took
them by both hands, and swore solemnly that he had forgotten--absolutely
forgotten--"accidentally, and not on purpose,"--to put a cap in--that
he "had ten of them, at least, in his pocket." He pulled them out and
showed them to everyone; he protested that he had not liked to put one
in beforehand for fear of an accidental explosion in his pocket. That
he had thought he would have lots of time to put it in afterwards--when
required--and, that, in the heat of the moment, he had forgotten all
about it. He threw himself upon the prince, then on Evgenie Pavlovitch.
He entreated Keller to give him back the pistol, and he'd soon show them
all that "his honour--his honour,"--but he was "dishonoured, now, for
ever!"

He fell senseless at last--and was carried into the prince's study.

Lebedeff, now quite sobered down, sent for a doctor; and he and his
daughter, with Burdovsky and General Ivolgin, remained by the sick man's
couch.

When he was carried away unconscious, Keller stood in the middle of the
room, and made the following declaration to the company in general, in a
loud tone of voice, with emphasis upon each word.

"Gentlemen, if any one of you casts any doubt again, before me,
upon Hippolyte's good faith, or hints that the cap was forgotten
intentionally, or suggests that this unhappy boy was acting a part
before us, I beg to announce that the person so speaking shall account
to me for his words."

No one replied.

The company departed very quickly, in a mass. Ptitsin, Gania, and
Rogojin went away together.

The prince was much astonished that Evgenie Pavlovitch changed his mind,
and took his departure without the conversation he had requested.

"Why, you wished to have a talk with me when the others left?" he said.

"Quite so," said Evgenie, sitting down suddenly beside him, "but I have
changed my mind for the time being. I confess, I am too disturbed, and
so, I think, are you; and the matter as to which I wished to consult you
is too serious to tackle with one's mind even a little disturbed; too
serious both for m