“I understand, gentlemen,” he began, trembling as before, and stumbling over every word, “that I have deserved your resentment, and⁠—and am sorry that I should have troubled you with this raving nonsense” (pointing to his article), “or rather, I am sorry that I have not troubled you enough.” He smiled feebly. “Have I troubled you, Evgenie Pavlovitch?” He suddenly turned on Evgenie with this question. “Tell me now, have I troubled you or not?”

“Well, it was a little drawn out, perhaps; but⁠—”

“Come, speak out! Don’t lie, for once in your life⁠—speak out!” continued Hippolyte, quivering with agitation.

“Oh, my good sir, I assure you it’s entirely the same to me. Please leave me in peace,” said Evgenie, angrily, turning his back on him.

“Good night, prince,” said Ptitsin, approaching his host.