say something?” cried Lizabetha Prokofievna, stamping her foot.
“Well,” murmured the prince, with his eyes still fixed on Lebedeff, “I can see now that he did.”
“Is it true?” she asked eagerly.
“Absolutely, your excellency,” said Lebedeff, without the least hesitation.
Mrs. Epanchin almost sprang up in amazement at his answer, and at the assurance of his tone.
“He actually seems to boast of it!” she cried.
“I am base — base!” muttered Lebedeff, beating his breast, and hanging his head.
“What do I