"I can but thank you," he said, in a tone too respectful to be sincere, "for your kindness in letting me speak, for I have often noticed that our Liberals never allow other people to have an opinion of their own, and immediately answer their opponents with abuse, if they do not have recourse to arguments of a still more unpleasant nature.""What you say is quite true," observed General Epanchin; then, clasping his hands behind his back, he returned to his place on the terrace steps, where he yawned with an air of boredom.
"Come, sir, that will do; you weary me," said Lizabetha Prokofievna suddenly to Evgenie Pavlovitch.
Hippolyte rose all at once, looking troubled and almost frightened.
"It is time for me to go," he said, glancing round in perplexity.
"I have detained you... I wanted to tell you everything... Ithought you all ... for the last time ... it was a whim..."He evidently had sudden fits of returning animation, when he awoke from his semi-delirium; then, recovering full self-possession for a few moments, he would speak, in disconnected phrases which had perhaps haunted him for a long while on his bed of suffering, during weary, sleepless nights.
"Well, good-bye," he said abruptly. "You think it is easy for me to say good-bye to you? Ha, ha!"Feeling that his question was somewhat gauche, he smiled angrily.
Then as if vexed that he could not ever express what he really meant, he said irritably, in a loud voice:
"Excellency, I have the honour of inviting you to my funeral;that is, if you will deign to honour it with your presence. Iinvite you all, gentlemen, as well as the general."He burst out laughing again, but it was the laughter of a madman.
Lizabetha Prokofievna approached him anxiously and seized his arm. He stared at her for a moment, still laughing, but soon his face grew serious.
"Do you know that I came here to see those trees?" pointing to the trees in the park. "It is not ridiculous, is it? Say that it is not ridiculous!" he demanded urgently of Lizabetha Prokofievna. Then he seemed to be plunged in thought. A moment later he raised his head, and his eyes sought for someone. He was looking for Evgenie Pavlovitch, who was close by on his right as before, but he had forgotten this, and his eyes ranged over the assembled company. "Ah! you have not gone!" he said, when he caught sight of him at last. "You kept on laughing just now, because I thought of speaking to the people from the window for a quarter of an hour. But I am not eighteen, you know; lying on that bed, and looking out of that window, I have thought of all sorts of things for such a long time that ... a dead man has no age, you know. I was saying that to myself only last week, when Iwas awake in the night. Do you know what you fear most? You fear our sincerity more than anything, although you despise us! The idea crossed my mind that night... You thought I was making fun of you just now, Lizabetha Prokofievna? No, the idea of mockery was far from me; I only meant to praise you. Colia told me the prince called you a child--very well--but let me see, Ihad something else to say..." He covered his face with his hands and tried to collect his thoughts.
"Ah, yes--you were going away just now, and I thought to myself:
'I shall never see these people again-never again! This is the last time I shall see the trees, too. I shall see nothing after this but the red brick wall of Meyer's house opposite my window.
Tell them about it--try to tell them,' I thought. 'Here is a beautiful young girl--you are a dead man; make them understand that. Tell them that a dead man may say anything--and Mrs. Grundy will not be angry--ha-ha! You are not laughing?" He looked anxiously around. "But you know I get so many queer ideas, lying there in bed. I have grown convinced that nature is full of mockery--you called me an atheist just now, but you know this nature ... why are you laughing again? You are very cruel!" he added suddenly, regarding them all with mournful reproach. "Ihave not corrupted Colia," he concluded in a different and very serious tone, as if remembering something again.
"Nobody here is laughing at you. Calm yourself" said Lizabetha Prokofievna, much moved. "You shall see a new doctor tomorrow;the other was mistaken; but sit down, do not stand like that! You are delirious--Oh, what shall we do with him she cried in anguish, as she made him sit down again in the arm-chair.
A tear glistened on her cheek. At the sight of it Hippolyte seemed amazed. He lifted his hand timidly and, touched the tear with his finger, smiling like a child.
