Page 437 - the-idiot

to the prince and holding out her hand.
He smiled absently at her; then suddenly he felt a burn-
ing sensation in his ear as an angry voice whispered:
‘If you do not turn those dreadful people out of the house
this very instant, I shall hate you all my life—all my life!’ It
was Aglaya. She seemed almost in a frenzy, but she turned
away before the prince could look at her. However, there
was no one left to turn out of the house, for they had man-
aged meanwhile to get Hippolyte into the cab, and it had
driven off.
‘Well, how much longer is this going to last, Ivan Fedo-
rovitch? What do you think? Shall I soon be delivered from
these odious youths?’
‘My dear, I am quite ready; naturally ... the prince.’
Ivan Fedorovitch held out his hand to Muishkin, but ran
after his wife, who was leaving with every sign of violent
indignation, before he had time to shake it. Adelaida, her
fiance, and Alexandra, said good-bye to their host with sin-
cere friendliness. Evgenie Pavlovitch did the same, and he
alone seemed in good spirits.
‘What I expected has happened! But I am sorry, you poor
fellow, that you should have had to suffer for it,’ he mur-
mured, with a most charming smile.
Aglaya left without saying good-bye. But the evening was
not to end without a last adventure. An unexpected meet-
ing was yet in store for Lizabetha Prokofievna.
She had scarcely descended the terrace steps leading to
the high road that skirts the park at Pavlofsk, when sudden-
ly there dashed by a smart open carriage, drawn by a pair of

The Idiot