"There he is!" she shrieked again, pointing to the prince and addressing
Aglaya. "There he is! and if he does not approach me at once and take ME and
throw you over, then have him for your own--I give him up to you! I don't want
him!"
But he, perhaps, did not understand the full force of this challenge; in
fact, it is certain he did not. All he could see was the poor despairing face
which, as he had said to Aglaya, "had pierced his heart for ever."
He could bear it no longer, and with a look of entreaty, mingled with
reproach, he addressed Aglaya, pointing to Nastasia the while:
But he had no time to say another word before. Aglaya's terrible look bereft
him of speech. In that look was embodied so dreadful a suffering and so deadly a
hatred, that he gave a cry and flew to her; but it was too late.
She could not hold out long enough even to witness his movement in her
direction. She had hidden her face in her hands, cried once " Oh, my God!" and
rushed out of the room. Rogojin followed her to undo the bolts of the door and
let her out into the street.
The prince made a rush after her, but he, was caught and held back. The
distorted, livid face of Nastasia gazed at him reproachfully, and her blue lips
whispered:
He raised her, carried her into the room, placed her in an arm- chair, and
stood over her, stupefied. On the table stood a tumbler of water. Rogojin, who
now returned, took this and sprinkled a little in her face. She opened her eyes,
but for a moment she understood nothing.
"Mine, mine!" she cried. "Has the proud young lady gone? Ha, ha, ha!" she
laughed hysterically. "And I had given him up to her! Why--why did I? Mad--mad!
Get away, Rogojin! Ha, ha, ha!"
A few moments later, the prince was seated by Nastasia on the sofa, gazing
into her eyes and stroking her face and hair, as he would a little child's. He
laughed when she laughed, and was ready to cry when she cried. He did not speak,
but listened to her excited, disconnected chatter, hardly understanding a word
of it the while. No sooner did he detect the slightest appearance of
complaining, or weeping, or reproaching, than he would smile at her kindly, and
begin stroking her hair and her cheeks, soothing and consoling her once more, as
if she were a child.
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