Kollomietzev came to dinner, disturbed and agitated."Would you believe it!" he shouted almost in tears, "what horrors I've read in the papers! My friend, my beloved Michael, the Servian prince, has been assassinated by some blackguards in Belgrade.This is what these Jacobins and revolutionists will bring us to if a firm stop is not put to them all!" Sipiagin permitted himself to remark that this horrible murder was probably not the work of Jacobins, "of whom there could hardly be any in Servia," but might have been committed by some of the followers of the Karageorgievsky party, enemies of Obrenovitch.Kollomietzev would not hear of this, and began to relate, in the same tearful voice, how the late prince had loved him and what a beautiful gun he had given him! Having spent himself somewhat and got rather irritable, he at last turned from foreign Jacobins to home-bred nihilists and socialists, and ended by flying into a passion.He seized a large roll, and breaking it in half over his soup plate, in the manner of the stylish Parisian in the "Cafe-Riche,"announced that he would like to tear limb from limb, reduce to ashes, all those who objected to anybody or to anything! These were his very words."It is high time! High time!" he announced, raising the spoon to his mouth; "yes, high time!" he repeated, giving his glass to the servant, who was pouring out sherry.He spoke reverentially about the great Moscow publishers, and Ladislas, notre bon et cher Ladislas, did not leave his lips.At this point, he fixed his eyes on Nejdanov, seeming to say:
"There, this is for you! Make what you like of it! I mean this for you! And there's a lot more to come yet!" The latter, no longer able to contain himself, objected at last, and began in a slightly unsteady tone of voice (not due to fear, of course)defending the ideals, the hopes, the principles of the modern generation.Kollomietzev soon went into a squeak--his anger always expressed itself in falsetto--and became abusive.
Sipiagin, with a stately air, began taking Nejdanov's part;Valentina Mihailovna, of course, sided with her husband; Anna Zaharovna tried to distract Kolia's attention, looking furiously at everybody; Mariana did not move, she seemed turned to stone.
Nejdanov, hearing the name of Ladislas pronounced at least for the twentieth time, suddenly flared up and thumping the palm of his hand on the table burst out:
"What an authority! As if we do not know who this Ladislas is! Aborn spy, nothing more!"
"W-w-w-what--what--did you say? " Kollomietzev stammered cut, choking with rage."How dare you express yourself like that of a man who is respected by such people as Prince Blasenkramf and Prince Kovrishkin!"Nejdanov shrugged his shoulders.
"A very nice recommendation! Prince Kovrishkin, that enthusiastic flunky--""Ladislas is my friend," Kollomietzev screamed, "my comrade--and I--""So much the worse for you," Nejdanov interrupted him."It means that you share his way of thinking, in which case my words apply to you too."Kollomietzev turned deadly pale with passion.
"W-what? How? You--ought to be-- on the spot--""What would you like to do with me ON THE SPOT?" Nejdanov asked with sarcastic politeness.Heaven only knows what this skirmish between these two enemies might have led to, had not Sipiagin himself put a stop to it at the very outset.Raising his voice and putting on a serious air, in which it was difficult to say what predominated most, the gravity of an important statesman or the dignity of a host, he announced firmly that he did not wish to hear at his table such immoderate expressions, that he had long ago made it a rule, a sacred rule, he added, to respect every sort of conviction, so long as (at this point he raised his forefinger ornamented with a signet ring) it came within the limits of decent behaviour; that if he could not help, on the one hand, condemning Mr.Nejdanov's intemperate words, for which only his extreme youth could be blamed, he could not, on the other, agree with Mr.Kollomietzev's embittered attack on people of an opposite camp, an attack, he felt sure, that was only due to an over-amount of zeal for the general welfare of society.
"Under my roof," he wound up, "under the Sipiagin's roof, there are no Jacobins and no spies, only honest, well-meaning people, who, once learning to understand one another, would most certainly clasp each other by the hand!"Neither Nejdanov nor Kollomietzev ventured on another word, but they did not, however, clasp each other's hands.Their moment for a mutual understanding had not arrived.On the contrary, they had never yet experienced such a strong antipathy to one another.
Dinner ended in an awkward, unpleasant silence.Sipiagin attempted to relate some diplomatic anecdote, but stopped half-way through.Mariana kept looking down at her plate persistently, not wishing to betray her sympathy with what Nejdanov had said.
She was by no means afraid, but did not wish to give herself away before Madame Sipiagina.She felt the latter's keen, penetrating glance fixed on her.And, indeed, Madame Sipiagina did not take her eyes either off her or Nejdanov.His unexpected outburst at first came as a surprise to the intelligent lady, but the next moment a light suddenly dawned upon her, so that she involuntarily murmured, "Ah!" She suddenly divined that Nejdanov was slipping away from her, this same Nejdanov who, a short time ago, was ready to come to her arms."Something has happened....Is it Mariana? Of course it's Mariana...She likes him...and he--""Something must be done." Thus she concluded her reflections, while Kollomietzev was choking with indignation.Even when playing preference two hours later, he pronounced the word "Pass!" or "I buy!" with an aching heart.A hoarse tremulo of wounded pride could be detected in his voice, although he pretended to scorn such things! Sipiagin was the only one really pleased with the scene.It had afforded him an opportunity of showing off the power of his eloquence and of calming the rising storm.He knew Latin, and Virgil's Quos ego was not unfamiliar to him.He did not consciously compare himself to Neptune, but thought of him with a kind of sympathetic feeling.
