Page 710 - the-idiot

afraid to talk about it.
The general had turned up in the bosom of his family two
or three days before, but not, as usual, with the olive branch
of peace in his hand, not in the garb of penitence—in which
he was usually clad on such occasions—but, on the contrary,
in an uncommonly bad temper. He had arrived in a quar-
relsome mood, pitching into everyone he came across, and
talking about all sorts and kinds of subjects in the most un-
expected manner, so that it was impossible to discover what
it was that was really putting him out. At moments he would
be apparently quite bright and happy; but as a rule he would
sit moody and thoughtful. He would abruptly commence
to hold forth about the Epanchins, about Lebedeff, or the
prince, and equally abruptly would stop short and refuse to
speak another word, answering all further questions with
a stupid smile, unconscious that he was smiling, or that he
had been asked a question. The whole of the previous night
he had spent tossing about and groaning, and poor Nina
Alexandrovna had been busy making cold compresses and
warm fomentations and so on, without being very clear how
to apply them. He had fallen asleep after a while, but not
for long, and had awaked in a state of violent hypochondria
which had ended in his quarrel with Hippolyte, and the sol-
emn cursing of Ptitsin’s establishment generally. It was also
observed during those two or three days that he was in a
state of morbid self-esteem, and was specially touchy on all
points of honour. Colia insisted, in discussing the matter
with his mother, that all this was but the outcome of absti-
nence from drink, or perhaps of pining after Lebedeff, with

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