“I meant to say⁠—I only meant to say,” said the prince, faltering, “I merely meant to explain to Aglaya Ivanovna⁠—to have the honour to explain, as it were⁠—that I had no intention⁠—never had⁠—to ask the honour of her hand. I assure you I am not guilty, Aglaya Ivanovna, I am not, indeed. I never did wish to⁠—I never thought of it at all⁠—and never shall⁠—you’ll see it yourself⁠—you may be quite assured of it. Some wicked person has been maligning me to you; but it’s all right. Don’t worry about it.”

So saying, the prince approached Aglaya.

She took the handkerchief from her face, glanced keenly at him, took in what he had said, and burst out laughing⁠—such a merry, unrestrained laugh, so hearty and gay, that Adelaida could not contain herself. She, too, glanced at the prince’s panic-stricken countenance, then rushed at her sister, threw her arms round her neck, and burst into as merry a fit of laughter as Aglaya’s own. They laughed together like a couple of schoolgirls. Hearing and seeing this, the prince smiled happily, and in accents of relief and joy, he exclaimed: “Well, thank God⁠—thank God!”