Page 386 - the-idiot

the prince, and retired silently to a corner of the room, hid-
ing his face in his hands. He was overcome by a feeling of
inexpressible shame; his boyish sensitiveness was wounded
beyond endurance. It seemed to him that something ex-
traordinary, some sudden catastrophe had occurred, and
that he was almost the cause of it, because he had read the
article aloud.
Yet all the others were similarly affected. The girls were
uncomfortable and ashamed. Lizabetha Prokofievna re-
strained her violent anger by a great effort; perhaps she
bitterly regretted her interference in the matter; for the pres-
ent she kept silence. The prince felt as very shy people often
do in such a case; he was so ashamed of the conduct of other
people, so humiliated for his guests, that he dared not look
them in the face. Ptitsin, Varia, Gania, and Lebedeff him-
self, all looked rather confused. Stranger still, Hippolyte
and the ‘son of Pavlicheff’ also seemed slightly surprised,
and Lebedeff’s nephew was obviously far from pleased. The
boxer alone was perfectly calm; he twisted his moustaches
with affected dignity, and if his eyes were cast down it was
certainly not in confusion, but rather in noble modesty, as if
he did not wish to be insolent in his triumph. It was evident
that he was delighted with the article.
‘The devil knows what it means,’ growled Ivan Fedoro-
vitch, under his breath; ‘it must have taken the united wits
of fifty footmen to write it.’
‘May I ask your reason for such an insulting supposition,
sir?’ said Hippolyte, trembling with rage.
You will admit yourself, general, that for an honourable