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control herself, and answering all anxious questions
by saying that Ivan Sergejevitsch is a little
unwell, and asks to be excused; he hopes they
will begin dancing all the same.
And the ball commences.
Aniuta casts frightened glances at her mother,
and reads in her eyes that something dreadful
has happened. During a momentary interval
she takes her into a corner beseeching her to tell
what is the matter.
‘What have you done? All is discovered, your
father has read Dostojevsky’s letter, and he is
dying of shame and rage.’ And poor Elena
Paulovna tries in vain to keep back her tears.
Aniuta is pale as death, and her mother adds
hurriedly, ‘For heaven’s sake, control yourself!
remember our guests! What a delight it would
be to them to get such food for gossip! Go on —
as if nothing had happened.’
And mother and daughter continue dancing
the whole night, both nearly fainting with fright
in thinking of the storm that awaits them as
soon as the visitors are gone.
And terrible it was indeed !
Ivan Sergejevitsch had locked himself up in
his room, and nobody was admitted. During
the pauses Elena Paulovna and Aniuta had
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