Page 149 - the-idiot

a little, without emitting any sound.
The prince took down the chain and opened the door. He
started back in amazement—for there stood Nastasia Phili-
povna. He knew her at once from her photograph. Her eyes
blazed with anger as she looked at him. She quickly pushed
by him into the hall, shouldering him out of her way, and
said, furiously, as she threw off her fur cloak:
‘If you are too lazy to mend your bell, you should at least
wait in the hall to let people in when they rattle the bell han-
dle. There, now, you’ve dropped my fur cloak—dummy!’
Sure enough the cloak was lying on the ground. Nastasia
had thrown it off her towards the prince, expecting him to
catch it, but the prince had missed it.
‘Now then—announce me, quick!’
The prince wanted to say something, but was so confused
and astonished that he could not. However, he moved off to-
wards the drawing-room with the cloak over his arm.
‘Now then, where are you taking my cloak to? Ha, ha, ha!
Are you mad?’
The prince turned and came back, more confused than
ever. When she burst out laughing, he smiled, but his tongue
could not form a word as yet. At first, when he had opened
the door and saw her standing before him, he had become
as pale as death; but now the red blood had rushed back to
his cheeks in a torrent.
‘Why, what an idiot it is!’ cried Nastasia, stamping her
foot with irritation. ‘Go on, do! Whom are you going to an-
nounce?’
‘Nastasia Philipovna,’ murmured the prince.

1 The Idiot