ing of the past. But the flourish was not the end of
it: in the midst of the vexatious astonishment and the smiles of the
audience there was a sudden "hurrah" from the end of the hall and from
the gallery also, apparently in Lembke's honour. The hurrahs were few,
but I must confess they lasted for some time. Yulia Mihailovna flushed,
her eyes flashed. Lembke stood still at his chair, and turning towards
the voices sternly and majestically scanned the audience.... They
hastened to make him sit down. I noticed with dismay the same dangerous
smile on his face as he had worn the morning before, in his wife's
drawing-room, when he stared at Stepan Trofimovitch before going up to
him. It seemed to me that now, too, there was an ominous, and, worst of
all, a rather comic expression on his countenance, the expression of a
man resigned to sacrifice himself to satisfy his wife's lofty aims....
Yulia Mihailovna beckoned to me hurriedly, and whispered to me to run
to Karmazinov and entreat him to begin. And no sooner had I turned away
than another disgraceful incident, much more unpleasant than the first,
took place.

On the platform, the empty platform, on which till that moment all eyes
and all expectations were fastened, and where nothing was to be seen but
a small table, a chair in front of it, and on the table a glass of water
on a silver salver--on the empty platform there suddenly appeared the
colossal figure of Captain Lebyadkin wearing a dress-coat and a white
tie. I was so astounded I could not believe my eyes. The captain seemed
confused and remained standing at the back of the platform. Suddenly
there was a shout in the audience, "Lebyadkin! You?" The captain's
stupid red face (he was hopelessly drunk) expanded in a broad vacant
grin at this greeting. He raised his hand, rubbed his forehead with it,
shook his shaggy head and, as though making up his mind to go through
with it, took two steps forward and suddenly went off into a series
of prolonged, blissful, gurgling, but not loud guffaws, which made him
screw up his eyes and set all his bulky person heaving. This spectacle
set almost half the audience laughing, twenty people applauded. The
serious part of the audience looked at one another gloomily; it all
lasted only half a minute, however. Liputin, wearing his steward's
rosette, ran on to the platform with two servants; they carefully took
the captain by both arms, while Liputin whispered something to him.
The captai