you could undertake to give it to her at once, but only to her,
mind, and so that no one else should see you give it? It isn't much of a
secret, but still--Well, will you do it?"

"I don't quite like it," replied the prince.

"Oh, but it is absolutely necessary for me," Gania entreated. "Believe
me, if it were not so, I would not ask you; how else am I to get it to
her? It is most important, dreadfully important!"

Gania was evidently much alarmed at the idea that the prince would not
consent to take his note, and he looked at him now with an expression of
absolute entreaty.

"Well, I will take it then."

"But mind, nobody is to see!" cried the delighted Gania "And of course I
may rely on your word of honour, eh?"

"I won't show it to anyone," said the prince.

"The letter is not sealed--" continued Gania, and paused in confusion.

"Oh, I won't read it," said the prince, quite simply.

He took up the portrait, and went out of the room.

Gania, left alone, clutched his head with his hands.

"One word from her," he said, "one word from her, and I may yet be
free."

He could not settle himself to his papers again, for agitation and
excitement, but began walking up and down the room from corner to
corner.

The prince walked along, musing. He did not like his commission, and
disliked the idea of Gania sending a note to Aglaya at all; but when
he was two rooms distant from the drawing-room, where they all were,
he stopped a though recalling something; went to the window, nearer the
light, and began to examine the portrait in his hand.

He longed to solve the mystery of something in the face Nastasia
Philipovna, something which had struck him as he looked at the portrait
for the first time; the impression had not left him. It was partly the
fact of her marvellous beauty that struck him, and partly something
else. There was a suggestion of immense pride and disdain in the face
almost of hatred, and at the same time something confiding and very full
of simplicity. The contrast aroused a deep sympathy in his heart as
he looked at the lovely face. The blinding loveliness of it was almost
intolerable, this pale thin face with its flaming eyes; it was a strange
beauty.

The prince gazed at it for a minute or two, then glanced around him,
and hurriedly raised the portrait to his lips. When, a minute after, he
reached the drawing-room door, his face was quite composed. But just as
he reached the door he met Aglaya