She turned round so suddenly that one might have supposed a needle had been stuck into her.
The prince hesitated. He perceived that he had said too much now.
“ Who forbade you?” cried Mrs. Epanchin once more.
“Aglaya Ivanovna told me—”
“When? Speak—quick!”
“She sent to say, yesterday morning, that I was never to dare to come near the house again.”
Lizabetha Prokofievna stood like a stone.
“What did she send? Whom? Was it that boy? Was it a message?—quick!”
“I had a note,” said the prince.
“Where is it? Give it here, at once.”
The prince thought a moment. Then he pulled out of his waistcoat pocket an untidy slip of paper, on which was scrawled:
“ Prince Lef Nicolaievitch —If you think fit, after all that has passed, to honour our house with a visit, I can assure you you will not find me among the number of those who are in any way delighted to see you.
Mrs. Epanchin reflected a moment. The next minute she flew at the prince, seized his hand, and dragged him after her to the door.
“Quick—come along!” she cried, breathless with agitation and impatience. “Come along with me this moment!”