ousand roubles!"

"Goodness gracious! good heavens!" came from all quarters of the room.

All now crowded round the fire and thronged to see what was going on;
everyone lamented and gave vent to exclamations of horror and woe. Some
jumped up on chairs in order to get a better view. Daria Alexeyevna
ran into the next room and whispered excitedly to Katia and Pasha. The
beautiful German disappeared altogether.

"My lady! my sovereign!" lamented Lebedeff, falling on his knees before
Nastasia Philipovna, and stretching out his hands towards the fire;
"it's a hundred thousand roubles, it is indeed, I packed it up myself,
I saw the money! My queen, let me get into the fire after it--say the
word-I'll put my whole grey head into the fire for it! I have a poor
lame wife and thirteen children. My father died of starvation last week.
Nastasia Philipovna, Nastasia Philipovna!" The wretched little man wept,
and groaned, and crawled towards the fire.

"Away, out of the way!" cried Nastasia. "Make room, all of you! Gania,
what are you standing there for? Don't stand on ceremony. Put in your
hand! There's your whole happiness smouldering away, look! Quick!"

But Gania had borne too much that day, and especially this evening, and
he was not prepared for this last, quite unexpected trial.

The crowd parted on each side of him and he was left face to face with
Nastasia Philipovna, three paces from her. She stood by the fire and
waited, with her intent gaze fixed upon him.

Gania stood before her, in his evening clothes, holding his white gloves
and hat in his hand, speechless and motionless, with arms folded and
eyes fixed on the fire.

A silly, meaningless smile played on his white, death-like lips. He
could not take his eyes off the smouldering packet; but it appeared that
something new had come to birth in his soul--as though he were vowing to
himself that he would bear this trial. He did not move from his place.
In a few seconds it became evident to all that he did not intend to
rescue the money.

"Hey! look at it, it'll burn in another minute or two!" cried Nastasia
Philipovna. "You'll hang yourself afterwards, you know, if it does! I'm
not joking."

The fire, choked between a couple of smouldering pieces of wood, had
died down for the first few moments after the packet was thrown upon it.
But a little tongue of fire now began to lick the paper from below,
and soon, gathering courage, mounted the sides of the parcel, and