when I eat."

"Of course, of course! And about your fits?"

"Fits?" asked the prince, slightly surprised. "I very seldom have fits
nowadays. I don't know how it may be here, though; they say the climate
may be bad for me."

"He talks very well, you know!" said Mrs. Epanchin, who still continued
to nod at each word the prince spoke. "I really did not expect it at
all; in fact, I suppose it was all stuff and nonsense on the general's
part, as usual. Eat away, prince, and tell me where you were born, and
where you were brought up. I wish to know all about you, you interest me
very much!"

The prince expressed his thanks once more, and eating heartily the
while, recommenced the narrative of his life in Switzerland, all of
which we have heard before. Mrs. Epanchin became more and more pleased
with her guest; the girls, too, listened with considerable attention. In
talking over the question of relationship it turned out that the prince
was very well up in the matter and knew his pedigree off by heart. It
was found that scarcely any connection existed between himself and Mrs.
Epanchin, but the talk, and the opportunity of conversing about her
family tree, gratified the latter exceedingly, and she rose from the
table in great good humour.

"Let's all go to my boudoir," she said, "and they shall bring some
coffee in there. That's the room where we all assemble and busy
ourselves as we like best," she explained. "Alexandra, my eldest,
here, plays the piano, or reads or sews; Adelaida paints landscapes and
portraits (but never finishes any); and Aglaya sits and does nothing.
I don't work too much, either. Here we are, now; sit down, prince, near
the fire and talk to us. I want to hear you relate something. I wish
to make sure of you first and then tell my old friend, Princess
Bielokonski, about you. I wish you to know all the good people and to
interest them. Now then, begin!"

"Mamma, it's rather a strange order, that!" said Adelaida, who was
fussing among her paints and paint-brushes at the easel. Aglaya and
Alexandra had settled themselves with folded hands on a sofa, evidently
meaning to be listeners. The prince felt that the general attention was
concentrated upon himself.

"I should refuse to say a word if I were ordered to tell a story like
that!" observed Aglaya.

"Why? what's there strange about it? He has a tongue. Why shouldn't he
tell us something? I want to judge whether he is a good story-teller;
anything