The prince did not exactly pant for breath, but he “seemed almost to choke out of pure simplicity and goodness of heart,” as Adelaida expressed it, on talking the party over with her fiance, the Prince S., next morning.
“ But, my goodness me,” laughed Ivan Petrovitch, “why can’t I be cousin to even a splendid man?”
“ Oh, dear!” cried the prince, confused, trying to hurry his words out, and growing more and more eager every moment: “I’ve gone and said another stupid thing. I don’t know what to say. I—I didn’t mean that, you know—I—I—he really was such a splendid man, wasn’t he?”
The prince trembled all over. Why was he so agitated? Why had he flown into such transports of delight without any apparent reason? He had far outshot the measure of joy and emotion consistent with the
