THERE, at all events. I'll remind you of this, tonight." Nastasia introduced the prince to her guests, to most of whom he was already known.
Totski immediately made some amiable remark. Al seemed to brighten up at once, and the conversation became general. Nastasia made the prince sit down next to herself.
"Dear me, there's nothing so very curious about the prince dropping in, after all," remarked Ferdishenko.
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"It's quite a clear case," said the hitherto silent Gania. "I have watched the prince almost all day, ever since the moment when he first saw Nastasia Philipovna's portrait, at General Epanchin's. I remember thinking at the time what I am now pretty sure of; and what, I may say in passing, the prince confessed to myself."
Gania said all this perfectly seriously, and without the slightest appearance of joking; indeed, he seemed strangely gloomy.
"I did not confess anything to you," said the prince, blushing. "I only answered your question."
"Bravo! That's frank, at any rate!" shouted Ferdishenko, and there was general laughter.
"Oh prince, prince! I never should have thought it of you;" said General Epanchin. "And I imagined you a philosopher! Oh, you silent fellows!"
"Judging from the fact that the prince blushed at this innocent joke, like a young girl, I should think that he must, as an honourable man, harbour the noblest intentions," said the old toothless schoolmaster, most unexpectedly; he had not so much as opened his mouth before. This remark provoked general mirth, and the old fellow himself laughed loudest of the lot, but ended with a stupen-dous fit of coughing.
Nastasia Philipovna, who loved originality and drollery of all kinds, was apparently very fond of this old man, and rang the bell for more tea to stop his coughing. It was now half-past ten o'clock.
"Gentlemen, wouldn't you like a little champagne now?" she asked. "I have it all ready; it will cheer us up--do now--no ceremony!"
This invitation to drink, couched, as it was, in such informal terms, came very strangely from Nastasia Philipovna. Her usual entertainments were not quite like this; there was more style about them. However, the wine was not refused; each guest took a glass excepting Gania, who drank nothing.
It was extremely difficult to account for Nastasia's strange condition of mind, which became more evident each moment, and which
none could avoid noticing.
She took her glass, and vowed she would empty it three times that evening. She was hysterical, and laughed aloud every other minute
with no apparent reason--the next moment relapsing into gloom and thoughtfulness.
Some of her guests suspected that she must be ill; but concluded at last that she was expecting something, for she continued to look at her watch impatiently and unceasingly; she was most absent and strange.
"You seem to be a little feverish tonight," said the actress.
"Yes; I feel quite ill. I have been obliged to put on this shawl--I feel so cold," replied Nastasia. She certainly had grown very pale,
and every now and then she tried to suppress a trembling in her limbs.
"Had we not better allow our hostess to retire?" asked Totski of the general.
"Not at all, gentlemen, not at all! Your presence is absolutely necessary to me tonight," said Nastasia, significantly.
As most of those present were aware that this evening a certain very important decision was to be taken, these words of Nastasia Philipovna's appeared to be fraught with much hidden interest. The general and Totski exchanged looks; Gania fidgeted convulsively in his chair.
"Let's play at some game!" suggested the actress.
"I know a new and most delightful game, added Ferdishenko. "What is it?" asked the actress.
"Well, when we tried it we were a party of people, like this, for instance; and somebody proposed that each of us, without leaving his place at the table, should relate something about himself. It had to be something that he really and honestly considered the very
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worst action he had ever committed in his life. But he was to be honest--that was the chief point! He wasn't to be allowed to lie."
"What an extraordinary idea!" said the general. "That's the beauty of it, general!"
"It's a funny notion," said Totski, "and yet quite natural--it's only a new way of boasting."
"Perhaps that is just what was so fascinating about it."
"Why, it would be a game to cry over--not to laugh at!" said the actress.
"Did it succeed?" asked Nastasia Philipovna. "Come, let's try it, let's try it; we really are not quite so jolly as we might be--let's try it!
We may like it; it's original, at all events!"
"Yes," said Ferdishenko; "it's a good idea--come along--the men begin. Of course no one need tell a story if he prefers to be disobliging. We must draw lots! Throw your slips of paper, gentlemen, into this hat, and the prince shall draw for turns. It's a very simple game; all you have to do is to tell the story of the worst action of your life. It's as simple as anything. I'll prompt anyone who forgets the rules!"
No one liked the idea much. Some smiled, some frowned some objected, but faintly, not wishing to oppose Nastasia's wishes; for this new idea seemed to be rather well received by her. She was still in an excited, hysterical state, laughing convulsively at nothing and everything. Her eyes were blazing, and her cheeks showed two bright red spots against the white. The melancholy appearance of some of her guests seemed to add to her sarcastic humour, and perhaps the very cynicism and cruelty of the game proposed by Ferdishenko pleased her. At all events she was attracted by the idea, and gradually her guests came round to her side; the thing was original, at least, and might turn out to be amusing. "And supposing it's something that one--one can't speak about before ladies?" asked the timid and silent young man.
"Why, then of course, you won't say anything about it. As if there are not plenty of sins to your score without the need of those!"
said Ferdishenko.
"But I really don't know which of my actions is the worst," said the lively actress. "Ladies are exempted if they like."
"And how are you to know that one isn't lying? And if one lies the whole point of the game is lost," said Gania.
"Oh, but think how delightful to hear how one's friends lie! Besides you needn't be afraid, Gania; everybody knows what your worst action is without the need of any lying on your part. Only think, gentlemen,"--and Ferdishenko here grew quite enthusiastic, "only think with what eyes we shall observe one another tomorrow, after our tales have been told!"
"But surely this is a joke, Nastasia Philipovna?" asked Totski. "You don't really mean us to play this game." "Whoever is afraid of wolves had better not go into the wood," said Nastasia, smiling.
"But, pardon me, Mr. Ferdishenko, is it possible to make a game out of this kind of thing?" persisted Totski, growing more and more uneasy. "I assure you it can't be a success."
"And why not? Why, the last time I simply told straight off about how I stole three roubles."
"Perhaps so; but it is hardly possible that you told it so that it seemed like truth, or so that you were believed. And, as Gavrila Ardalionovitch has said, the least suggestion of a falsehood takes all point out of the game. It seems to me that sincerity, on the other hand, is only possible if combined with a kind of bad taste that would be utterly out of place here."
"How subtle you are, Afanasy Ivanovitch! You astonish me," cried Ferdishenko. "You will remark, gentleman, that in saying that I could not recount the story of my theft so as to be believed, Afanasy Ivanovitch has very ingeniously implied that I am not capable of thieving--(it would have been bad taste to say so openly); and all the time he is probably firmly convinced, in his own mind, that I am very well capable of it! But now, gentlemen, to business! Put in your slips, ladies and gentlemen--is yours in, Mr. Totski? So--
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