"Cruel?" sobbed Aglaya. "Yes, I AM cruel, and worthless, and spoiled—tell father so,—oh, here he is—I forgot Father, listen!" She laughed through her tears.
"My darling, my little idol," cried the general, kissing and fondling her hands (Aglaya did not draw them away); "so you love this young man, do you?"
"No, no, no, can't BEAR him, I can't BEAR your young man!" cried Aglaya, raising her head. "And if you dare say that ONCE more, papa—I'm serious, you know, I'm,—do you hear me—I'm serious!"
She certainly did seem to be serious enough. She had flushed up all over and her eyes were blazing.
The general felt troubled and remained silent, while Lizabetha Prokofievna telegraphed to him from behind Aglaya to ask no questions.
"If that's the case, darling—then, of course, you shall do exac
