of order and so as not to remain in ignorance."

This "sly" question made an impression. People looked at each other,
every one expecting some one else to answer, and suddenly all, as though
at a word of command, turned their eyes to Verhovensky and Stavrogin.

"I suggest our voting on the answer to the question whether we are a
meeting or not," said Madame Virginsky.

"I entirely agree with the suggestion," Liputin chimed in, "though the
question is rather vague."

"I agree too."

"And so do I," cried voices. "I too think it would make our proceedings
more in order," confirmed Virginsky.

"To the vote then," said his wife. "Lyamshin, please sit down to the
piano; you can give your vote from there when the voting begins."

"Again!" cried Lyamshin. "I've strummed enough for you."

"I beg you most particularly, sit down and play. Don't you care to do
anything for the cause?"

"But I assure you, Arina Prohorovna, nobody is eavesdropping. It's
only your fancy. Besides, the windows are high, and people would not
understand if they did hear."

"We don't understand ourselves," some one muttered. "But I tell you one
must always be on one's guard. I mean in case there should be spies,"
she explained to Verhovensky. "Let them hear from the street that we
have music and a name-day party."

"Hang it all!" Lyamshin swore, and sitting down to the piano, began
strumming a valse, banging on the keys almost with his fists, at random.

"I propose that those who want it to be a meeting should put up their
right hands," Madame Virginsky proposed.

Some put them up, others did not. Some held them up and then put them
down again and then held them up again. "Foo! I don't understand it at
all," one officer shouted. "I don't either," cried the other.

"Oh, I understand," cried a third. "If it's yes, you hold your hand up."

"But what does 'yes' mean?"

"Means a meeting."

"No, it means not a meeting."

"I voted for a meeting," cried the schoolboy to Madame Virginsky.

"Then why didn't you hold up your hand?"

"I was looking at you. You didn't hold up yours, so I didn't hold up
mine."

"How stupid! I didn't hold up my hand because I proposed it. Gentlemen,
now I propose the contrary. Those who want a meeting, sit still and do
nothing; those who don't, hold up their right hands."

"Those who don't want it?" inquired the schoolboy. "Are you doing it on
purpose?" cried Madame Virginsky wrathfully.

"No. Excuse me, tho