PART IV
5. CHAPTER V.
(continued)
"Forgive a silly, horrid, spoilt girl"--(she took his hand here)--
"and be quite assured that we all of us esteem you beyond all
words. And if I dared to turn your beautiful, admirable
simplicity to ridicule, forgive me as you would a little child
its mischief. Forgive me all my absurdity of just now, which, of
course, meant nothing, and could not have the slightest
consequence." She spoke these words with great emphasis.
Her father, mother, and sisters came into the room and were much
struck with the last words, which they just caught as they
entered--"absurdity which of course meant nothing"--and still
more so with the emphasis with which Aglaya had spoken.
They exchanged glances questioningly, but the prince did not seem
to have understood the meaning of Aglaya's words; he was in the
highest heaven of delight.
"Why do you speak so?" he murmured. "Why do you ask my
forgiveness?"
He wished to add that he was unworthy of being asked for
forgiveness by her, but paused. Perhaps he did understand
Aglaya's sentence about "absurdity which meant nothing," and like
the strange fellow that he was, rejoiced in the words.
Undoubtedly the fact that he might now come and see Aglaya as
much as he pleased again was quite enough to make him perfectly
happy; that he might come and speak to her, and see her, and sit
by her, and walk with her--who knows, but that all this was quite
enough to satisfy him for the whole of his life, and that he
would desire no more to the end of time?
(Lizabetha Prokofievna felt that this might be the case, and she
didn't like it; though very probably she could not have put the
idea into words.)
It would be difficult to describe the animation and high spirits
which distinguished the prince for the rest of the evening.
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