. 'No, no!' says he, 'don't insult me that way.' 'Oh, if
that's the case, give it to the village hospital,' I say. 'Ah,' he says,
'that's quite a different matter; that's good of you and generous. I'll
pay it in there for you with pleasure.' I liked that old fellow, Russian
to the core, de la vraie souche. I went home in raptures, but took
another road in order to avoid Peter. Immediately on arriving I sent up
the bouquet for Anfisa to see when she awoke.

"You may imagine her ecstasy, her gratitude. The wretched Platon, who
had almost died since yesterday of the reproaches showered upon him,
wept on my shoulder. Of course poor Peter had no chance after this.

"I thought he would cut my throat at first, and went about armed ready
to meet him. But he took it differently; he fainted, and had brain fever
and convulsions. A month after, when he had hardly recovered, he went
off to the Crimea, and there he was shot.

"I assure you this business left me no peace for many a long year. Why
did I do it? I was not in love with her myself; I'm afraid it was simply
mischief--pure 'cussedness' on my part.

"If I hadn't seized that bouquet from under his nose he might have been
alive now, and a happy man. He might have been successful in life, and
never have gone to fight the Turks."

Totski ended his tale with the same dignity that had characterized its
commencement.

Nastasia Philipovna's eyes were flashing in a most unmistakable way,
now; and her lips were all a-quiver by the time Totski finished his
story.

All present watched both of them with curiosity.

"You were right, Totski," said Nastasia, "it is a dull game and a stupid
one. I'll just tell my story, as I promised, and then we'll play cards."

"Yes, but let's have the story first!" cried the general.

"Prince," said Nastasia Philipovna, unexpectedly turning to Muishkin,
"here are my old friends, Totski and General Epanchin, who wish to marry
me off. Tell me what you think. Shall I marry or not? As you decide, so
shall it be."

Totski grew white as a sheet. The general was struck dumb. All present
started and listened intently. Gania sat rooted to his chair.

"Marry whom?" asked the prince, faintly.

"Gavrila Ardalionovitch Ivolgin," said Nastasia, firmly and evenly.

There were a few seconds of dead silence.

The prince tried to speak, but could not form his words; a great weight
seemed to lie upon his breast and suffocate him.

"N-no! don't marry him!"