“Yes⁠—I do ask for it!” said the prince, more dead than alive now.

There was a general stir in the room.

“No⁠—no⁠—my dear girl,” began the general. “You cannot proceed like this, Aglaya, if that’s how the matter stands. It’s impossible. Prince, forgive it, my dear fellow, but⁠—Lizabetha Prokofievna!”⁠—he appealed to his spouse for help⁠—“you must really⁠—”

“Not I⁠—not I! I retire from all responsibility,” said Lizabetha Prokofievna, with a wave of the hand.

“Allow me to speak, please, mamma,” said Aglaya. “I think I ought to have something to say in the matter. An important moment of my destiny is about to be decided”⁠—(this is how Aglaya expressed herself)⁠—“and I wish to find out how the matter stands, for my own sake, though I am glad you are all here. Allow me to ask you, prince, since you cherish those intentions, how you consider that you will provide for my happiness?”