Page 810 - the-idiot

dumb stupor—laughing kindly and merrily. Several of
them spoke to him, and spoke so kindly and cordially, es-
pecially Lizabetha Prokofievna—she was saying the kindest
possible things to him.
Suddenly he became aware that General Epanchin was
tapping him on the shoulder; Ivan Petrovitch was laugh-
ing too, but still more kind and sympathizing was the old
dignitary. He took the prince by the hand and pressed it
warmly; then he patted it, and quietly urged him to rec-
ollect himself—speaking to him exactly as he would have
spoken to a little frightened child, which pleased the prince
wonderfully; and next seated him beside himself.
The prince gazed into his face with pleasure, but still
seemed to have no power to speak. His breath failed him.
The old man’s face pleased him greatly.
‘Do you really forgive me?’ he said at last. ‘And—and Liz-
abetha Prokofievna too?’ The laugh increased, tears came
into the prince’s eyes, he could not believe in all this kind-
ness—he was enchanted.
‘The vase certainly was a very beautiful one. I remem-
ber it here for fifteen years—yes, quite that!’ remarked Ivan
Petrovitch.
‘Oh, what a dreadful calamity! A wretched vase smashed,
and a man half dead with remorse about it,’ said Lizabetha
Prokofievna, loudly. ‘What made you so dreadfully startled,
Lef Nicolaievitch?’ she added, a little timidly. ‘Come, my
dear boy! cheer up. You really alarm me, taking the acci-
dent so to heart.’
‘Do you forgive me all—ALL, besides the vase, I mean?’

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