PART III
4. CHAPTER IV.
(continued)
Lebedeff had roused great indignation in some of his auditors (it
should be remarked that the bottles were constantly uncorked
during his speech); but this unexpected conclusion calmed even
the most turbulent spirits. "That's how a clever barrister makes
a good point!" said he, when speaking of his peroration later on.
The visitors began to laugh and chatter once again; the committee
left their seats, and stretched their legs on the terrace. Keller
alone was still disgusted with Lebedeff and his speech; he turned
from one to another, saying in a loud voice:
"He attacks education, he boasts of the fanaticism of the twelfth
century, he makes absurd grimaces, and added to that he is by no
means the innocent he makes himself out to be. How did he get the
money to buy this house, allow me to ask?"
In another corner was the general, holding forth to a group of
hearers, among them Ptitsin, whom he had buttonholed. "I have
known," said he, "a real interpreter of the Apocalypse, the late
Gregory Semeonovitch Burmistroff, and he--he pierced the heart
like a fiery flash! He began by putting on his spectacles, then
he opened a large black book; his white beard, and his two medals
on his breast, recalling acts of charity, all added to his
impressiveness. He began in a stern voice, and before him
generals, hard men of the world, bowed down, and ladies fell to
the ground fainting. But this one here--he ends by announcing a
banquet! That is not the real thing!"
Ptitsin listened and smiled, then turned as if to get his hat;
but if he had intended to leave, he changed his mind. Before the
others had risen from the table, Gania had suddenly left off
drinking, and pushed away his glass, a dark shadow seemed to come
over his face. When they all rose, he went and sat down by
Rogojin. It might have been believed that quite friendly
relations existed between them. Rogojin, who had also seemed on
the point of going away now sat motionless, his head bent,
seeming to have forgotten his intention. He had drunk no wine,
and appeared absorbed in reflection. From time to time he raised
his eyes, and examined everyone present; one might have imagined
that he was expecting something very important to himself, and
that he had decided to wait for it. The prince had taken two or
three glasses of champagne, and seemed cheerful. As he rose he
noticed Evgenie Pavlovitch, and, remembering the appointment he
had made with him, smiled pleasantly. Evgenie Pavlovitch made a
sign with his head towards Hippolyte, whom he was attentively
watching. The invalid was fast asleep, stretched out on the sofa.
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