"All right.I'll see for myself.Are they playing cards?""They have been playing, but they've left off.They've been drinking tea, the official gentleman asked for liqueurs.""Stay, Trifon Borissovitch, stay, my good soul, I'll see for myself.Now answer one more question: are the gypsies here?""You can't have the gypsies now, Dmitri Fyodorovitch.The authorities have sent them away.But we've Jews that play the cymbals and the fiddle in the village, so one might send for them.
They'd come."
"Send for them.Certainly send for them!" cried Mitya."And you can get the girls together as you did then, Marya especially, Stepanida, too, and Arina.Two hundred roubles for a chorus!""Oh, for a sum like that I can get all the village together, though by now they're asleep.Are the peasants here worth such kindness, Dmitri Fyodorovitch, or the girls either? To spend a sum like that on such coarseness and rudeness! What's the good of giving a peasant a cigar to smoke, the stinking ruffian! And the girls are all lousy.Besides, I'll get my daughters up for nothing, let alone a sum like that.They've only just gone to bed, I'll give them a kick and set them singing for you.You gave the peasants champagne to drink the other day, e-ech!"For all his pretended compassion for Mitya, Trifon Borissovitch had hidden half a dozen bottles of champagne on that last occasion, and had picked up a hundred-rouble note under the table, and it had remained in his clutches.
"Trifon Borissovitch, I sent more than one thousand flying last time I was here.Do you remember?""You did send it flying.I may well remember.You must have left three thousand behind you.""Well, I've come to do the same again, do you see?"And he pulled out his roll of notes, and held them up before the innkeeper's nose.
Now, listen and remember.In an hour's time the wine will arrive, savouries, pies, and sweets- bring them all up at once.That box Andrey has got is to be brought up at once, too.Open it, and hand champagne immediately.And the girls, we must have the girls, Marya especially."He turned to the cart and pulled out the box of pistols.
"Here, Andrey, let's settle.Here's fifteen roubles for the drive, and fifty for vodka...for your readiness, for your love....
Remember Karamazov!"
"I'm afraid, sir," Andrey."Give me five roubles extra, but more Iwon't take.Trifon Borissovitch, bear witness.Forgive my foolish words...""What are you afraid of?" asked Mitya, scanning him."Well, go to the devil, if that's it?" he cried, flinging him five roubles.
"Now, Trifon Borissovitch, take me up quietly and let me first get a look at them, so that they don't see me.Where are they? In the blue room?"Trifon Borissovitch looked apprehensively at Mitya, but at once obediently did his bidding.Leading him into the passage, he went himself into the first large room, adjoining that in which the visitors were sitting, and took the light away.Then he stealthily led Mitya in, and put him in a corner in the dark, whence he could freely watch the company without being seen.But Mitya did not look long, and, indeed, he could not see them; he saw her, his heart throbbed violently, and all was dark before his eyes.
She was sitting sideways to the table in a low chair, and beside her, on the sofa, was the pretty youth, Kalganov.She was holding his hand and seemed to be laughing, while he, seeming vexed and not looking at her, was saying something in a loud voice to Maximov, who sat the other side of the table, facing Grushenka.Maximov was laughing violently at something.On the sofa sat he, and on a chair by the sofa there was another stranger.The one on the sofa was lolling backwards, smoking a pipe, and Mitya had an impression of a stoutish, broad-faced, short little man, who was apparently angry about something.His friend, the other stranger, struck Mitya as extraordinarily tall, but he could make out nothing more.He caught his breath.He could not bear it for a minute, he put the pistol-case on a chest, and with a throbbing heart he walked, feeling cold all over, straight into the blue room to face the company.
"Aie!" shrieked Grushenka, the first to notice him.
Chapter 7
The First and Rightful LoverWITH his long, rapid strides, Mitya walked straight up to the table.
"Gentlemen," he said in a loud voice, almost shouting, yet stammering at every word, "I...I'm all right! Don't be afraid!" he exclaimed, "I- there's nothing the matter," he turned suddenly to Grushenka, who had shrunk back in her chair towards Kalganov, and clasped his hand tightly."I...I'm coming, too.I'm here till morning.Gentlemen, may I stay with you till morning? Only till morning, for the last time, in this same room?"So he finished, turning to the fat little man, with the pipe, sitting on the sofa.The latter removed his pipe from his lips with dignity and observed severely:
"Panie,* we're here in private.There are other rooms."* Pan and Panie mean Mr.in Polish.Pani means Mrs., Panovie, gentlemen.
"Why, it's you, Dmitri Fyodorovitch! What do you mean?" answered Kalgonov suddenly."Sit down with us.How are you?""Delighted to see you, dear...and precious fellow, I always thought a lot of you." Mitya responded, joyfully and eagerly, at once holding out his hand across the table.
"Aie! How tight you squeeze! You've quite broken my fingers,"laughed Kalganov.
"He always squeezes like that, always," Grushenka put in gaily, with a timid smile, seeming suddenly convinced from Mitya's face that he was not going to make a scene.She was watching him with intense curiosity and still some uneasiness.She was impressed by something about him, and indeed the last thing she expected of him was that he would come in and speak like this at such a moment.
"Good evening," Maximov ventured blandly on the left.Mitya rushed up to him, too.
