Making a respectful bow to Natasha he awaited her reply. I was watching him intently all the time he was speaking. He noticed it.
He made his speech coldly, with some display of eloquence, and in parts with in certain nonchalance. The tone of the whole speech was incongruous indeed with the impulse that had brought him to us at an hour so inappropriate for a first visit, especially under such circumstances. Some of his expressions were evidently premeditated, and in some parts of his long speech — which was strange from its very length — he seemed to be artificially assuming the air of an eccentric man struggling to conceal an overwhelming feeling under a show of humour, carelessness and jest. But I only made all these reflections afterwards; at the time the effect was different. He uttered the last words so sincerely, with so much feeling, with such an air of genuine respect for Natasha, that it conquered us all. There was actually the glimmer of a tear on his eyelashes. Natasha’s generous heart was completely won. She, too, got up, and, deeply moved, held out her hand to him without a word. He took it and kissed it with tenderness and emotion. Alyosha was beside himself with rapture.
“What did I tell you, Natasha?” he cried. “You wouldn’t believe me. You wouldn’t believe in his being the noblest man in the world! You see, you see for yourself! . . .”
He rushed to his father and hugged him warmly. The latter responded as warmly, but hastened to cut short the touching scene, as though ashamed to show his emotion.
“Enough,” he said, and took his hat. “I must go. I asked you to give me ten minutes and I have been here a whole hour,” he added, laughing. “But I leave you with impatient eagerness to see you again as soon as possible. Will you allow me to visit you as often as I can?”
“Yes, yes,” answered Natasha, “as often as you can . . . I want to make haste . . . to be fond of you . . .” she added in embarrassment.
“How sincere you are, how truthful,” said Prince Valkovsky, smiling at her words. “You won’t be insincere even to be polite. But your sincerity is more precious than all artificial politeness. Yes! I recognize that it will take me a long, long time to deserve your love.”
“Hush, don’t praise me . . . . Enough,” Natasha whispered in confusion. How delightful she was at that moment!
“So be it,” Prince Valkovsky concluded. “I’ll say only a couple of words of something practical. You cannot imagine how unhappy I am! Do you know I can’t be with you tomorrow — neither tomorrow nor the day after. I received a letter this evening of such importance to me (requiring my presence on business at once) that I cannot possibly
neglect it. I am leaving Petersburg tomorrow morning. Please do not imagine that I came to you to-night because I should have no time tomorrow or the day after. Of course you don’t think so, but that is just an instance of my suspicious nature. Why should I fancy that you must think so? Yes, my suspicious nature has often been a drawback to me in my life, and my whole misunderstanding with your family has perhaps been due to my unfortunate character! . . . To-day is Tuesday. Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday I shall not be in Petersburg. I hope to return on Saturday for certain; and I will be with you the same day. Tell me, may I come to you for the whole evening?”
“Of course, of course!” cried Natasha. “On Saturday evening I shall expect you . . . I shall expect you impatiently!”
“Ah, how happy I am! I shall get to know you better and better! But . . . I must go! I cannot go without shaking hands with you, though,” he added, turning to me. “I beg your pardon! We are all talking so disconnectedly. I have several times had the pleasure of meeting you, and once, indeed, we were introduced. I cannot take my leave without telling you how glad I should be to renew our acquaintance . . . .”
“We have met, it’s true,” I answered, taking his hand. “But I don’t remember that we became acquainted.”
“At Prince M.‘s, last year.”
“I beg your pardon, I’ve forgotten. But I assure you this time I shall not forget. This evening will always remain in my memory.”
“Yes, you are right. I feel the same. I have long known that you have been a good and true friend to Natalya Nikolaevna and my son. I hope you three will admit me as a fourth. May I?” he added, addressing Natasha.
“Yes, he is a true friend to us, and we must all hold together,” Natasha answered with deep feeling.
Poor girl! She was positively beaming with delight that the prince had not overlooked me. How she loved me!
“I have met many worshippers of your talent,” Prince Valkovsky went on. “And I know two of your most sincere admirers — the countess, my dearest friend, and her stepdaughter Katerina Fyodorovna Filimonov. They would so like to know you personally. Allow me to hope that you will let me have the pleasure of presenting you to those ladies.”
“You are very flattering, though now I see so few people . . .”
“But give me your address! Where do you live? I shall do myself the pleasure . . .” “I do not receive visitors, prince. At least not at present.”
“But, though I have not deserved to be an exception . . . I . . . ”
“Certainly, since you insist I shall be delighted. I live at — Street, in Klugen’s Buildings.”
“Klugen’s Buildings!” he cried, as though surprised something. “What! Have you . . . lived there long?”
“No, not long,” I answered, instinctively watching him. “I live at No. 44.” “Forty-four? You are living . . . alone?”
“Quite alone.”
“0-oh! I ask you because I think I know the house. So much the better. . . . I will certainly come and see you, certainly! I shall have much to talk over with you and I look for great things from you. You can oblige me in many ways. You see I am beginning straight off by asking you a favour. But good-bye! Shake hands again!”
He shook my hand and Alyosha’s, kissed Natasha’s hand again and went out without suggesting that Alyosha should follow him.
We three remained overwhelmed. It had all happened so unexpectedly, so casually. We all felt that in one instant everything had changed, and that something new and unknown was beginning. Alyosha without a word sat down beside Natasha and softly kissed her hand. From time to time he peeped into her face as though to see what she would say.
“Alyosha, darling, go and see Katerina Fyodorovna tomorrow,” she brought out at last.
“I was thinking of that myself,” he said, “I shall certainly go.”
“But perhaps it will be painful for her to see you. What’s to be done?”
“I don’t know, dear. I thought of that too. I’ll look round. I shall see . . . then I’ll decide. Well, Natasha, everything is changed for us now,” Alyosha said, unable to contain himself.
She smiled and gave him a long, tender look.
“And what delicacy he has. He saw how poor your lodging is and not a word . . . ” “Of what?”
“Why . . . of your moving . . . or anything,” he added reddening.
“Nonsense, Alyosha, why ever should he?”
“That’s just what I say. He has such delicacy. And how he praised you! I told you so . . . I told you. Yes, he’s capable of understanding and feeling anything! But he talked of me as though I were a baby; they all treat me like that. But I suppose I really am.”
“You’re a child, but you see further than any of us. You’re good, Alyosha!”
“He said that my good heart would do me harm. How’s that? I don’t understand. But I say, Natasha, oughtn’t I to make haste and go to him? I’ll be with you as soon as it’s light tomorrow.”
“Yes, go, darling, go. You were right to think of it. And be sure to show yourself to him, do you hear? And come tomorrow as. early as you can. You won’t run away from me
