PART II
10. CHAPTER X.
(continued)
Though he seemed to wish to say much more, he became silent. He
fell back into his chair, and, covering his face with his hands,
began to sob like a little child.
"Oh! what on earth are we to do with him?" cried Lizabetha
Prokofievna. She hastened to him and pressed his head against her
bosom, while he sobbed convulsively.
"Come, come, come! There, you must not cry, that will do. You are
a good child! God will forgive you, because you knew no better.
Come now, be a man! You know presently you will be ashamed."
Hippolyte raised his head with an effort, saying:
"I have little brothers and sisters, over there, poor avid
innocent. She will corrupt them! You are a saint! You are a child
yourself--save them! Snatch them from that ... she is ... it
is shameful! Oh! help them! God will repay you a hundredfold. For
the love of God, for the love of Christ!"
"Speak, Ivan Fedorovitch! What are we to do?" cried Lizabetha
Prokofievna, irritably. "Please break your majestic silence! I
tell you, if you cannot come to some decision, I will stay here
all night myself. You have tyrannized over me enough, you
autocrat!"
She spoke angrily, and in great excitement, and expected an
immediate reply. But in such a case, no matter how many are
present, all prefer to keep silence: no one will take the
initiative, but all reserve their comments till afterwards. There
were some present--Varvara Ardalionovna, for instance--who would
have willingly sat there till morning without saying a word.
Varvara had sat apart all the evening without opening her lips,
but she listened to everything with the closest attention;
perhaps she had her reasons for so doing.
"My dear," said the general, "it seems to me that a sick-nurse
would be of more use here than an excitable person like you.
Perhaps it would be as well to get some sober, reliable man for
the night. In any case we must consult the prince, and leave the
patient to rest at once. Tomorrow we can see what can be done
for him."
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