Page 430 - the-idiot

he really meant, he said irritably, in a loud voice:
‘Excellency, I have the honour of inviting you to my funer-
al; that is, if you will deign to honour it with your presence.
I invite you all, gentlemen, as well as the general.’
He burst out laughing again, but it was the laughter of a
madman. Lizabetha Prokofievna approached him anxious-
ly and seized his arm. He stared at her for a moment, still
laughing, but soon his face grew serious.
‘Do you know that I came here to see those trees?’ point-
ing to the trees in the park. ‘It is not ridiculous, is it? Say
that it is not ridiculous!’ he demanded urgently of Lizabetha
Prokofievna. Then he seemed to be plunged in thought. A
moment later he raised his head, and his eyes sought for
someone. He was looking for Evgenie Pavlovitch, who was
close by on his right as before, but he had forgotten this, and
his eyes ranged over the assembled company. ‘Ah! you have
not gone!’ he said, when he caught sight of him at last. ‘You
kept on laughing just now, because I thought of speaking to
the people from the window for a quarter of an hour. But I
am not eighteen, you know; lying on that bed, and looking
out of that window, I have thought of all sorts of things for
such a long time that ... a dead man has no age, you know. I
was saying that to myself only last week, when I was awake
in the night. Do you know what you fear most? You fear our
sincerity more than anything, although you despise us! The
idea crossed my mind that night... You thought I was mak-
ing fun of you just now, Lizabetha Prokofievna? No, the
idea of mockery was far from me; I only meant to praise you.
Colia told me the prince called you a child—very well—but