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"
What
?
Impossible
!
To
Nastasia
Philipovna
?
Nonsense
!
"
cried
the
prince
.
"
It
was
,
I
assure
you
,
and
if
not
to
her
then
to
Rogojin
,
which
is
the
same
thing
.
Mr.
Hippolyte
has
had
letters
,
too
,
and
all
from
the
individual
whose
name
begins
with
an
A.
,
"
smirked
Lebedeff
,
with
a
hideous
grin
.
As
he
kept
jumping
from
subject
to
subject
,
and
forgetting
what
he
had
begun
to
talk
about
,
the
prince
said
nothing
,
but
waited
,
to
give
him
time
.
It
was
all
very
vague
.
Who
had
taken
the
letters
,
if
letters
there
were
?
Probably
Vera
--
and
how
could
Lebedeff
have
got
them
?
In
all
probability
,
he
had
managed
to
steal
the
present
letter
from
Vera
,
and
had
himself
gone
over
to
Lizabetha
Prokofievna
with
some
idea
in
his
head
.
So
the
prince
concluded
at
last
.
"
You
are
mad
!
"
he
cried
,
indignantly
.
"
Not
quite
,
esteemed
prince
,
"
replied
Lebedeff
,
with
some
acerbity
.
"
I
confess
I
thought
of
doing
you
the
service
of
handing
the
letter
over
to
yourself
,
but
I
decided
that
it
would
pay
me
better
to
deliver
it
up
to
the
noble
lady
aforesaid
,
as
I
had
informed
her
of
everything
hitherto
by
anonymous
letters
;
so
when
I
sent
her
up
a
note
from
myself
,
with
the
letter
,
you
know
,
in
order
to
fix
a
meeting
for
eight
o'clock
this
morning
,
I
signed
it
'
your
secret
correspondent
.
'
They
let
me
in
at
once
--
very
quickly
--
by
the
back
door
,
and
the
noble
lady
received
me
.
"
"
Well
?
Go
on
.
"
"
Oh
,
well
,
when
I
saw
her
she
almost
punched
my
head
,
as
I
say
;
in
fact
so
nearly
that
one
might
almost
say
she
did
punch
my
head
.
She
threw
the
letter
in
my
face
;
she
seemed
to
reflect
first
,
as
if
she
would
have
liked
to
keep
it
,
but
thought
better
of
it
and
threw
it
in
my
face
instead
.
'
If
anybody
can
have
been
such
a
fool
as
to
trust
a
man
like
you
to
deliver
the
letter
,
'
says
she
,
'
take
it
and
deliver
it
!
'
Hey
!
she
was
grandly
indignant
.
A
fierce
,
fiery
lady
that
,
sir
!
"
"
Where
's
the
letter
now
?
"
