PART IV
5. CHAPTER V.
(continued)
He was so happy that "it made one feel happy to look at him," as
Aglaya's sisters expressed it afterwards. He talked, and told
stories just as he had done once before, and never since, namely
on the very first morning of his acquaintance with the Epanchins,
six months ago. Since his return to Petersburg from Moscow, he
had been remarkably silent, and had told Prince S. on one
occasion, before everyone, that he did not think himself
justified in degrading any thought by his unworthy words.
But this evening he did nearly all the talking himself, and told
stories by the dozen, while he answered all questions put to him
clearly, gladly, and with any amount of detail.
There was nothing, however, of love-making in his talk. His ideas
were all of the most serious kind; some were even mystical and
profound.
He aired his own views on various matters, some of his most
private opinions and observations, many of which would have
seemed rather funny, so his hearers agreed afterwards, had they
not been so well expressed.
The general liked serious subjects of conversation; but both he
and Lizabetha Prokofievna felt that they were having a little too
much of a good thing tonight, and as the evening advanced, they
both grew more or less melancholy; but towards night, the prince
fell to telling funny stories, and was always the first to burst
out laughing himself, which he invariably did so joyously and
simply that the rest laughed just as much at him as at his
stories.
As for Aglaya, she hardly said a word all the evening; but she
listened with all her ears to Lef Nicolaievitch's talk, and
scarcely took her eyes off him.
"She looked at him, and stared and stared, and hung on every word
he said," said Lizabetha afterwards, to her husband, "and yet,
tell her that she loves him, and she is furious!"
"What's to be done? It's fate," said the general, shrugging his
shoulders, and, for a long while after, he continued to repeat:
"It's fate, it's fate!"
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