overnment offices. I should like you to ply him well with the
victuals, my dears, for I should think he must be very hungry."

"You astonish me," said the lady, gazing as before. "Fits, and hungry
too! What sort of fits?"

"Oh, they don't come on frequently, besides, he's a regular child,
though he seems to be fairly educated. I should like you, if possible,
my dears," the general added, making slowly for the door, "to put him
through his paces a bit, and see what he is good for. I think you should
be kind to him; it is a good deed, you know--however, just as you like,
of course--but he is a sort of relation, remember, and I thought it
might interest you to see the young fellow, seeing that this is so."

"Oh, of course, mamma, if we needn't stand on ceremony with him, we must
give the poor fellow something to eat after his journey; especially as
he has not the least idea where to go to," said Alexandra, the eldest of
the girls.

"Besides, he's quite a child; we can entertain him with a little
hide-and-seek, in case of need," said Adelaida.

"Hide-and-seek? What do you mean?" inquired Mrs. Epanchin.

"Oh, do stop pretending, mamma," cried Aglaya, in vexation. "Send him
up, father; mother allows."

The general rang the bell and gave orders that the prince should be
shown in.

"Only on condition that he has a napkin under his chin at lunch, then,"
said Mrs. Epanchin, "and let Fedor, or Mavra, stand behind him while he
eats. Is he quiet when he has these fits? He doesn't show violence, does
he?"

"On the contrary, he seems to be very well brought up. His manners
are excellent--but here he is himself. Here you are, prince--let me
introduce you, the last of the Muishkins, a relative of your own, my
dear, or at least of the same name. Receive him kindly, please. They'll
bring in lunch directly, prince; you must stop and have some, but you
must excuse me. I'm in a hurry, I must be off--"

"We all know where YOU must be off to!" said Mrs. Epanchin, in a meaning
voice.

"Yes, yes--I must hurry away, I'm late! Look here, dears, let him
write you something in your albums; you've no idea what a wonderful
caligraphist he is, wonderful talent! He has just written out 'Abbot
Pafnute signed this' for me. Well, au revoir!"

"Stop a minute; where are you off to? Who is this abbot?" cried Mrs.
Epanchin to her retreating husband in a tone of excited annoyance.

"Yes, my dear, it was an old abbot of that name-I must be off to