The girl at the window turned her back indignantly on the scene; an expression of extraordinary cordiality came over the haughtily inquiring face of the woman.
"Good morning! Sit down, Mr.Tchernomazov," she said.
"Karamazov, mamma, Karamazov.We are of humble origin," he whispered again.
"Well, Karamazov, or whatever it is, but I always think of Tchermomazov....Sit down.Why has he pulled you up? He calls me crippled, but I am not, only my legs are swollen like barrels, and Iam shrivelled up myself.Once I used to be so fat, but now it's as though I had swallowed a needle.""We are of humble origin," the captain muttered again.
"Oh, father, father!" the hunchback girl, who had till then been silent on her chair, said suddenly, and she hid her eyes in her handkerchief.
"Buffoon!" blurted out the girl at the window.
"Have you heard our news?" said the mother, pointing at her daughters."It's like clouds coming over; the clouds pass and we have music again.When we were with the army, we used to have many such guests.I don't mean to make any comparisons; everyone to their taste.The deacon's wife used to come then and say, 'Alexandr Alexandrovitch is a man of the noblest heart, but Nastasya Petrovna,' she would say, 'is of the brood of hell.' 'Well,' I said, 'that's a matter of taste; but you are a little spitfire.' 'And you want keeping in your place;' says she.'You black sword,' said I, 'who asked you to teach me?' 'But my breath,' says she, 'is clean, and yours is unclean.' 'You ask all the officers whether my breath is unclean.' And ever since then I had it in my mind.Not long ago Iwas sitting here as I am now, when I saw that very general come in who came here for Easter, and I asked him: 'Your Excellency,' said I, 'can a lady's breath be unpleasant?' 'Yes,' he answered; 'you ought to open a window-pane or open the door, for the air is not fresh here.' And they all go on like that! And what is my breath to them? The dead smell worse still!.'I won't spoil the air,' said I, 'I'll order some slippers and go away.' My darlings, don't blame your own mother! Nikolay Ilyitch, how is it I can't please you? There's only Ilusha who comes home from school and loves me.Yesterday he brought me an apple.Forgive your own mother- forgive a poor lonely creature! Why has my breath become unpleasant to you?"And the poor mad woman broke into sobs, and tears streamed down her cheeks.The captain rushed up to her.
"Mamma, mamma, my dear, give over! You are not lonely.Everyone loves you, everyone adores you." He began kissing both her hands again and tenderly stroking her face; taking the dinner-napkin, he began wiping away her tears.Alyosha fancied that he too had tears in his eyes."There, you see, you hear?" he turned with a sort of fury to Alyosha, pointing to the poor imbecile.
"I see and hear," muttered Alyosha.
"Father, father, how can you- with him! Let him alone!" cried the boy, sitting up in his bed and gazing at his father with glowing eyes.
"Do give over fooling, showing off your silly antics which never lead to anything! shouted Varvara, stamping her foot with passion.
"Your anger is quite just this time, Varvara, and I'll make haste to satisfy you.Come, put on your cap, Alexey Fyodorovitch, and I'll put on mine.We will go out.I have a word to say to you in earnest, but not within these walls.This girl sitting here is my daughter Nina; I forgot to introduce her to you.She is a heavenly angel incarnate...who has flown down to us mortals,...if you can understand.""There he is shaking all over, as though he is in convulsions!"Varvara went on indignantly.
"And she there stamping her foot at me and calling me a fool just now, she is a heavenly angel incarnate too, and she has good reason to call me so.Come along, Alexey Fyodorovitch, we must make an end."And, snatching Alyosha's hand, he drew him out of the room into the street.
Chapter 7
And in the Open Air"THE air is fresh, but in my apartment it is not so in any sense of the word.Let us walk slowly, sir.I should be glad of your kind interest.""I too have something important to say to you," observed Alyosha, "only I don't know how to begin.""To be sure you must have business with me.You would never have looked in upon me without some object.Unless you come simply to complain of the boy, and that's hardly likely.And, by the way, about the boy: I could not explain to you in there, but here I will describe that scene to you.My tow was thicker a week ago- I mean my beard.That's the nickname they give to my beard, the schoolboys most of all.Well, your brother Dmitri Fyodorovitch was pulling me by my beard, I'd done nothing, he was in a towering rage and happened to come upon me.He dragged me out of the tavern into the market place; at that moment the boys were coming out of school, and with them Ilusha.As soon as he saw me in such a state he rushed up to me.'Father,' he cried, 'father!' He caught hold of me, hugged me, tried to pull me away, crying to my assailant, 'Let go, let go, it's my father, forgive him!'- yes, he actually cried 'forgive him.' He clutched at that hand, that very hand, in his little hands and kissed it....I remember his little face at that moment, I haven't forgotten it and I never shall!""I swear," cried Alyosha, "that my brother will express his most deep and sincere regret, even if he has to go down on his knees in that same market-place....I'll make him or he is no brother of mine!
