"I think he's just coming, Zina! Nastasia Petrovna, make some new tea quick, please!" The good lady was considerably agitated.

"Mrs. Antipova has sent her maid over to inquire about the prince already.

How angry she must be feeling just now," remarked the widow, as she commenced to pa.s.s over the tea-urn.

"And what's that to me!" replied Maria Alexandrovna, over her shoulder.

"Just as though _I_ care what she thinks! _I_ shall not send a maid to her kitchen to inquire, I a.s.sure you! And I am surprised, downright _surprised_, that, not only you, but all the town, too, should suppose that that wretched woman is my enemy! I appeal to you, Paul-you know us both. Why should I be her enemy, now? Is it a question of precedence?

Pooh! I don't care about precedence! She may be first, if she likes, and I shall be readiest of all to go and congratulate her on the fact. Besides, it's all nonsense! Why, I take her part; I _must_ take her part. People malign her; _why_ do you all fall upon her so? Because she's young, and likes to be smart; is that it? Dear me, I think finery is a good bit better than some other failings-like Natalia Dimitrievna's, for instance, who has a taste for things that cannot be mentioned in polite society. Or is it that Mrs. Antipova goes out too much, and never stays at home? My goodness! why, the woman has never had any education; naturally she doesn't care to sit down to read, or anything of that sort. True, she coquets and makes eyes at everybody who looks at her. But why do people tell her that she's pretty? especially as she only has a pale face, and nothing else to boast of.

"She is amusing at a dance, I admit; but why do people tell her that she dances the polka so well? She wears hideous hats and things; but it's not her fault that nature gave her no gift of good taste. She talks scandal; but that's the custom of the place-who doesn't here? That fellow, Sushikoff, with his whiskers, goes to see her pretty often while her husband plays cards, but that _may_ be merely a trumped-up tale; at all events I always say so, and take her part in every way! But, good heavens!

here's the prince at last! 'Tis he, 'tis he! I recognise him! I should know him out of a thousand! At last I see you! At last, my Prince!" cried Maria Alexandrovna,-and she rushed to greet the prince as he entered the room.

CHAPTER IV.

At first sight you would not take this prince for an old man at all, and it is only when you come near and take a good look at him, that you see he is merely a dead man working on wires. All the resources of science are brought to bear upon this mummy, in order to give it the appearance of life and youth. A marvellous wig, glorious whiskers, moustache and napoleon-all of the most raven black-cover half his face. He is painted and powdered with very great skill, so much so that one can hardly detect any wrinkles. What has become of them, goodness only knows.

He is dressed in the pink of fashion, just as though he had walked straight out of a tailor's fashion-page. His coat, his gloves, tie, his waistcoat, his linen, are all in perfect taste, and in the very last mode.

The prince limps slightly, but so slightly that one would suppose he did it on purpose because _that_ was in fashion too. In his eye he wears a gla.s.s-in the eye which is itself gla.s.s already.

He was soaked with scent. His speech and manner of p.r.o.nouncing certain syllables was full of affectation; and this was, perhaps, all that he retained of the mannerisms and tricks of his younger days. For if the prince had not quite lost his wits as yet, he had certainly parted with nearly every vestige of his memory, which-alas!-is a thing which no amount of perfumeries and wigs and rouge and tight-lacing will renovate. He continually forgets words in the midst of conversation, and loses his way, which makes it a matter of some difficulty to carry on a conversation with him. However, Maria Alexandrovna has confidence in her inborn dexterity, and at sight of the prince she flies into a condition of unspeakable rapture.

"Oh! but you've not changed, you've not changed a _bit_!" she cries, seizing her guest by both hands, and popping him into a comfortable arm-chair. "Sit down, dear Prince, do sit down! Six years, prince, six whole long years since we saw each other, and not a letter, not a little tiny sc.r.a.p of a note all the while. _Oh_, how naughty you have been, prince! And _how_ angry I have been with you, my dear friend! But, tea!

tea! Good Heavens, Nastasia Petrovna, tea for the prince, quick!"

"Th-thanks, thanks; I'm very s-orry!" stammered the old man (I forgot to mention that he stammered a little, but he did even this as though it were the fashion to do it). "Very s-sorry; fancy, I-I wanted to co-come last year, but they t-told me there was cho-cho-cholera here."

"There was foot and mouth disease here, uncle," put in Mosgliakoff, by way of distinguishing himself. Maria Alexandrovna gave him a severe look.

"Ye-yes, foot and mouth disease, or something of that s-sort," said the prince; "so I st-stayed at home. Well, and how's your h-husband, my dear Anna Nic-Nicolaevna? Still at his proc-procuror's work?"

"No, prince!" said Maria Alexandrovna, a little disconcerted. "My husband is not a procurer."

"I'll bet anything that uncle has mixed you up with Anna Nicolaevna Antipova," said Mosgliakoff, but stopped suddenly on observing the look on Maria Alexandrovna's face.

"Ye-yes, of course, Anna Nicolaevna. A-An. What the deuce! I'm always f-forgetting; Antipova, Antipova, of course," continued the prince.

"No, prince, you have made a great mistake," remarked Maria Alexandrovna, with a bitter smile. "I am not Anna Nicolaevna at all, and I confess I should never have believed that you would not recognise me. You have astonished me, prince. I am your old friend, Maria Alexandrovna Moskaloff.

Don't you remember Maria Alexandrovna?"

"M-Maria Alexandrovna! think of that; and I thought she was w-what's her name. Y-yes, Anna Vasilievna! _C'est delicieux._ W-why I thought you were going to take me to this A-Anna Matveyevna. Dear me! _C'est ch-charmant!_ It often happens so w-with me. I get taken to the wrong house; but I'm v-very pleased, v-very pleased! So you're not Nastasia Va-silievna? How interesting."

"I'm Maria Alexandrovna, prince; _Maria Alexandrovna_! Oh! how naughty you are, Prince, to forget your best, best friend!"

"Ye-es! ye-yes! best friend; best friend, for-forgive me!" stammered the old man, staring at Zina.

"That's my daughter Zina. You are not acquainted yet, prince. She wasn't here when you were last in the town, in the year -- you know."

"Oh, th-this is your d-daughter!" muttered the old man, staring hungrily at Zina through his gla.s.ses. "Dear me, dear me. _Ch-charmante, ch-armante!_ But what a lo-ovely girl," he added, evidently impressed.

"Tea! prince," remarked Maria Alexandrovna, directing his attention to the page standing before him with the tray. The prince took a cup, and examined the boy, who had a nice fresh face of his own.

"Ah! this is your l-little boy? Wh-what a charming little b-boy! and does he be-behave nicely?"

"But, prince," interrupted Maria Alexandrovna, impatiently, "what is this dreadful occurrence I hear of? I confess I was nearly beside myself with terror when I heard of it. Were you not hurt at all? _Do_ take care. One cannot make light of this sort of thing."

"Upset, upset; the c-coachman upset me!" cried the prince, with unwonted vivacity. "I thought it was the end of the world, and I was fri-frightened out of my wits. I didn't expect it; I didn't, indeed! and my co-oachman is to blame for it all. I trust you, my friend, to lo-ok into the matter well. I feel sure he was making an attempt on my life!"

"All right, all right, uncle," said Paul; "I'll see about it. But look here-forgive him, just this once, uncle; just this once, won't you?"

"N-not I! Not for anything! I'm sure he wants my life, he and Lavrenty too. It's-it's the 'new ideas;' it's Com-Communism, in the fullest sense of the word. I daren't meet them anywhere."

"You are right, you are quite right, prince," cried Maria Alexandrovna.

"You don't know how I suffer myself from these wretched people. I've just been obliged to change two of my servants; and you've no idea how _stupid_ they are, prince."

"Ye-yes! quite so!" said the prince, delighted-as all old men are whose senile chatter is listened to with servility. "But I like a fl-flunky to look stupid; it gives them presence. There's my Terenty, now. You remember Terenty, my friend? Well, the f-first time I ever looked at him I said, 'You shall be my ha-hall porter.' He's stupid, phen-phen-omenally stupid, he looks like a she-sheep; but his dig-dignity and majesty are wonderful.

When I look at him he seems to be composing some l-learned dis-sertation.

He's just like the German philosopher, Kant, or like some fa-fat old turkey, and that's just what one wants in a serving-man."

Maria Alexandrovna laughed, and clapped her hands in the highest state of ecstasy; Paul supported her with all his might; Nastasia Petrovna laughed too; and even Zina smiled.

"But, prince, how clever, how witty, how _humorous_ you are!" cried Maria Alexandrovna. "What a wonderful gilt of remarking the smallest refinements of character. And for a man like you to eschew all society, and shut yourself up for five years! With such talents! Why, prince, you could _write_, you could be an author. You could emulate Von Vezin, Gribojedoff, Gogol!"

"Ye-yes! ye-yes!" said the delighted prince. "I can reproduce things I see, very well. And, do you know, I used to be a very wi-witty fellow indeed, some time ago. I even wrote a play once. There were some very smart couplets, I remember; but it was never acted."

"Oh! how nice it would be to read it over, especially just _now_, eh, Zina? for we are thinking of getting up a play, you must know, prince, for the benefit of the 'martyrs of the Fatherland,' the wounded soldiers.

There, now, how handy your play would come in!"

"Certainly, certainly. I-I would even write you another. I think I've quite forgotten the old one. I remember there were two or three such epigrams that (here the prince kissed his own hand to convey an idea of the exquisite wit of his lines) I recollect when I was abroad I made a real furore. I remember Lord Byron well; we were great friends; you should have seen him dance the mazurka one day during the Vienna Congress."

"Lord Byron, uncle?-Surely not!"

"Ye-yes, Lord Byron. Perhaps it was not Lord Byron, though, perhaps it was someone else; no, it wasn't Lord Byron, it was some Pole; I remember now.

A won-der-ful fellow that Pole was! He said he was a C-Count, and he turned out to be a c-cook-shop man! But he danced the mazurka won-der-fully, and broke his leg at last. I recollect I wrote some lines at the time:-

"Our little Pole Danced like blazes."

-How did it go on, now? Wait a minute! No, I can't remember."

"I'll tell you, uncle. It must have been like this," said Paul, becoming more and more inspired:-

"But he tripped in a hole, Which stopped his crazes."

"Ye-yes, that was it, I think, or something very like it. I don't know, though-perhaps it wasn't. Anyhow, the lines were very sm-art. I forget a good deal of what I have seen and done. I'm so b-busy now!"

"But do let me hear how you have employed your time in your solitude, dear prince," said Maria Alexandrovna. "I must confess that I have thought of you so often, and often, that I am burning with impatience to hear more about you and your doings."