The prince jumped up so furiously that Lebedeff ran towards the door; having gained which strategic position, however, he stopped and looked back to see if he might hope for pardon.
“Oh, Lebedeff, Lebedeff! Can a man really sink to such depths of meanness?” said the prince, sadly.
Lebedeff’s face brightened.
“Oh, I’m a mean wretch—a mean wretch!” he said, approaching the prince once more, and beating his breast, with tears in his eyes.
“It’s abominable dishonesty, you know!”
“Dishonesty—it is, it is! That’s the very word!”
“What in the world induces you to act so? You are nothing but a spy. Why did you write anonymously to worry so noble and generous a lady? Why should not Aglaya Ivanovna write a note to whomever she pleases? What did you mean to complain of today? What did you expect to get by it? What made you go at all?”
“Pure amiable curiosity—I assure you—desire to do a service. That’s all. Now I’m entirely yours again, your slave; hang me if you like!”
“Did you go before Lizabetha Prokofievna in your present condition?” inquired the prince.
“No—oh no, fresher—more the correct card. I only became this like after the humiliation I suffered there.”
“Well—that’ll do; now leave me.”
This injunction had to be repeated several times before the man could be persuaded to move. Even then he turned back at the door, came as far as