Page 362 - the-idiot

that spirit reached the utmost limit of asceticism. He is a
Don Quixote, only serious and not comical. I used not to
understand him, and laughed at him, but now I love the
‘poor knight,’ and respect his actions.’
So ended Aglaya; and, to look at her, it was difficult, in-
deed, to judge whether she was joking or in earnest.
‘Pooh! he was a fool, and his actions were the actions of
a fool,’ said Mrs. Epanchin; ‘and as for you, young wom-
an, you ought to know better. At all events, you are not to
talk like that again. What poem is it? Recite it! I want to
hear this poem! I have hated poetry all my life. Prince, you
must excuse this nonsense. We neither of us like this sort of
thing! Be patient!’
They certainly were put out, both of them.
The prince tried to say something, but he was too con-
fused, and could not get his words out. Aglaya, who had
taken such liberties in her little speech, was the only person
present, perhaps, who was not in the least embarrassed. She
seemed, in fact, quite pleased.
She now rose solemnly from her seat, walked to the cen-
tre of the terrace, and stood in front of the prince’s chair.
All looked on with some surprise, and Prince S. and her sis-
ters with feelings of decided alarm, to see what new frolic
she was up to; it had gone quite far enough already, they
thought. But Aglaya evidently thoroughly enjoyed the af-
fectation and ceremony with which she was introducing her
recitation of the poem.
Mrs. Epanchin was just wondering whether she would
not forbid the performance after all, when, at the very mo-

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