evidently broken, and only shook a little, without emitting any sound.
The prince took down the chain and opened the door. He started back in amazement — for there stood Nastasia Philipovna.
He knew her at once from her photograph. Her eyes blazed with anger as she looked at him. She quickly pushed by him into the hall, shouldering him out of her way, and said, furiously, as she threw off her fur cloak:
“If you are too lazy to mend your bell, you should at least wait in the hall to let people in when they rattle the bell handle. There, now, you’ve dropped my fur cloak — dummy!”
Sure enough the cloak was lying on the ground. Nastasia had thrown it off her