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"
Really
!
"
said
Rogojin
vaguely
,
not
taking
in
what
the
prince
meant
by
his
rather
obscure
remarks
.
The
room
they
were
now
sitting
in
was
a
large
one
,
lofty
but
dark
,
well
furnished
,
principally
with
writing-tables
and
desks
covered
with
papers
and
books
.
A
wide
sofa
covered
with
red
morocco
evidently
served
Rogojin
for
a
bed
.
On
the
table
beside
which
the
prince
had
been
invited
to
seat
himself
lay
some
books
;
one
containing
a
marker
where
the
reader
had
left
off
,
was
a
volume
of
Solovieff
's
History
.
Some
oil-paintings
in
worn
gilded
frames
hung
on
the
walls
,
but
it
was
impossible
to
make
out
what
subjects
they
represented
,
so
blackened
were
they
by
smoke
and
age
.
One
,
a
life-sized
portrait
,
attracted
the
prince
's
attention
.
It
showed
a
man
of
about
fifty
,
wearing
a
long
riding-coat
of
German
cut
.
He
had
two
medals
on
his
breast
;
his
beard
was
white
,
short
and
thin
;
his
face
yellow
and
wrinkled
,
with
a
sly
,
suspicious
expression
in
the
eyes
.
"
That
is
your
father
,
is
it
not
?
"
asked
the
prince
.
"
Yes
,
it
is
,
"
replied
Rogojin
with
an
unpleasant
smile
,
as
if
he
had
expected
his
guest
to
ask
the
question
,
and
then
to
make
some
disagreeable
remark
.
"
Was
he
one
of
the
Old
Believers
?
"
"
No
,
he
went
to
church
,
but
to
tell
the
truth
he
really
preferred
the
old
religion
.
This
was
his
study
and
is
now
mine
.
Why
did
you
ask
if
he
were
an
Old
Believer
?
"
"
Are
you
going
to
be
married
here
?
"
"
Ye-yes
!
"
replied
Rogojin
,
starting
at
the
unexpected
question
.
"
Soon
?
"
"
You
know
yourself
it
does
not
depend
on
me
.
"
