Page 811 - the-idiot

said the prince, rising from his seat once more, but the old
gentleman caught his hand and drew him down again—he
seemed unwilling to let him go.
‘C’est tres-curieux et c’est tres-serieux,’ he whispered
across the table to Ivan Petrovitch, rather loudly. Probably
the prince heard him.
‘So that I have not offended any of you? You will not be-
lieve how happy I am to be able to think so. It is as it should
be. As if I COULD offend anyone here! I should offend you
again by even suggesting such a thing.’
‘Calm yourself, my dear fellow. You are exaggerating
again; you really have no occasion to be so grateful to us.
It is a feeling which does you great credit, but an exaggera-
tion, for all that.’
‘I am not exactly thanking you, I am only feeling a
growing admiration for you—it makes me happy to look
at you. I dare say I am speaking very foolishly, but I must
speak—I must explain, if it be out of nothing better than
self-respect.’
All he said and did was abrupt, confused, feverish—very
likely the words he spoke, as often as not, were not those
he wished to say. He seemed to inquire whether he MIGHT
speak. His eyes lighted on Princess Bielokonski.
‘All right, my friend, talk away, talk away!’ she remarked.
‘Only don’t lose your breath; you were in such a hurry when
you began, and look what you’ve come to now! Don’t be
afraid of speaking— all these ladies and gentlemen have
seen far stranger people than yourself; you don’t astonish
THEM. You are nothing out-of-the-way remarkable, you

10 The Idiot