Page 461 - the-idiot

‘No finessing, please. What did you write about?’
‘I am not finessing, and I am not in the least afraid of tell-
ing you; but I don’t see the slightest reason why I should not
have written.’
‘Be quiet, you can talk afterwards! What was the letter
about? Why are you blushing?’
The prince was silent. At last he spoke.
‘I don’t understand your thoughts, Lizabetha Prokofiev-
na; but I can see that the fact of my having written is for
some reason repugnant to you. You must admit that I have
a perfect right to refuse to answer your questions; but, in or-
der to show you that I am neither ashamed of the letter, nor
sorry that I wrote it, and that I am not in the least inclined
to blush about it ‘(here the prince’s blushes redoubled), ‘I
will repeat the substance of my letter, for I think I know it
almost by heart.’
So saying, the prince repeated the letter almost word for
word, as he had written it.
‘My goodness, what utter twaddle, and what may all this
nonsense have signified, pray? If it had any meaning at all!’
said Mrs. Epanchin, cuttingly, after having listened with
great attention.
‘I really don’t absolutely know myself; I know my feel-
ing was very sincere. I had moments at that time full of life
and hope.’
‘What sort of hope?’
‘It is difficult to explain, but certainly not the hopes you
have in your mind. Hopes—well, in a word, hopes for the
future, and a feeling of joy that THERE, at all events, I was

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