to spend the evening with me.... We are
just there--that's the house... Why, Colia! you here! Well, is Marfa
Borisovna at home or have you only just come?"

"Oh no! I have been here a long while," replied Colia, who was at the
front door when the general met him. "I am keeping Hippolyte company.
He is worse, and has been in bed all day. I came down to buy some cards.
Marfa Borisovna expects you. But what a state you are in, father!" added
the boy, noticing his father's unsteady gait. "Well, let us go in."

On meeting Colia the prince determined to accompany the general, though
he made up his mind to stay as short a time as possible. He wanted
Colia, but firmly resolved to leave the general behind. He could not
forgive himself for being so simple as to imagine that Ivolgin would be
of any use. The three climbed up the long staircase until they reached
the fourth floor where Madame Terentieff lived.

"You intend to introduce the prince?" asked Colia, as they went up.

"Yes, my boy. I wish to present him: General Ivolgin and Prince
Muishkin! But what's the matter?... what?... How is Marfa Borisovna?"

"You know, father, you would have done much better not to come at all!
She is ready to eat you up! You have not shown yourself since the day
before yesterday and she is expecting the money. Why did you promise her
any? You are always the same! Well, now you will have to get out of it
as best you can."

They stopped before a somewhat low doorway on the fourth floor. Ardalion
Alexandrovitch, evidently much out of countenance, pushed Muishkin in
front.

"I will wait here," he stammered. "I should like to surprise her. ...."

Colia entered first, and as the door stood open, the mistress of the
house peeped out. The surprise of the general's imagination fell very
flat, for she at once began to address him in terms of reproach.

Marfa Borisovna was about forty years of age. She wore a
dressing-jacket, her feet were in slippers, her face painted, and her
hair was in dozens of small plaits. No sooner did she catch sight of
Ardalion Alexandrovitch than she screamed:

"There he is, that wicked, mean wretch! I knew it was he! My heart
misgave me!"

The old man tried to put a good face on the affair.

"Come, let us go in--it's all right," he whispered in the prince's ear.

But it was more serious than he wished to think. As soon as the visitors
had crossed the low dark hall, and entered the narrow reception-room,
furnishe