However, she turned and ran down to the prince as fast as her feet could carry her.
“Well, what does it all mean? What do you make of it?” asked the general of his spouse, hurriedly.
“I hardly dare say,” said Lizabetha, as hurriedly, “but I think it’s as plain as anything can be.”
“I think so too, as clear as day; she loves him.”
“Loves him? She is head over ears in love, that’s what she is,” put in Alexandra.
“Well, God bless her, God bless her, if such is her destiny,” said Lizabetha, crossing herself devoutly.
“H’m destiny it is,” said the general, “and there’s no getting out of destiny.”
With these words they all moved off towards the drawing-room, where another surprise awaited them. Aglaya had not only not laughed, as she had feared, but had gone to the prince rather timidly, and said to him:
“Forgive a silly, horrid, spoilt girl”—(she took his hand here)—“and be quite assured that we all of us esteem you beyond all words. And if I dared to turn your beautiful, admirable simplicity to ridicule, forgive me as you would a little child its mischief. Forgive me all my absurdity of just now, which, of course, meant nothing, and could not have the slightest consequence.” She spoke these words with great emphasis.
Her father, mother, and sisters came into the room and were much struck with the last words, which they just caught as they entered—“absurdity which of course meant nothing”—and still more so with the emphasis with which Aglaya had spoken.