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Updated: September 12, 2025
On the table stood a brass mortar, with a pestle in it, a small brass pestle, not much more than six inches long. Mitya already had opened the door with one hand when, with the other, he snatched up the pestle, and thrust it in his side-pocket. “Oh, Lord! He’s going to murder some one!” cried Fenya, flinging up her hands. Where was he running? “Where could she be except at Fyodor Pavlovitch’s?
When it got dark and the shutters were closed, Fenya asked her mistress: “Is the gentleman going to stay the night, mistress?” “Yes; make him a bed on the sofa,” answered Grushenka. Questioning him more in detail, Grushenka learned from him that he had literally nowhere to go, and that “Mr. Kalganov, my benefactor, told me straight that he wouldn’t receive me again and gave me five roubles.”
“That’s blood, Fenya,” he said, looking at her with a strange expression. “That’s human blood, and my God! why was it shed? But at dawn to-morrow, when the sun rises, Mitya will leap over that fence.... You don’t understand what fence, Fenya, and, never mind.... You’ll hear to-morrow and understand ... and now, good-by. I won’t stand in her way. I’ll step aside, I know how to step aside.
Hearing of the message, Mitya suddenly smiled, and there was a flush of color on his pale cheeks. At the same moment Fenya said to him, not a bit afraid now to be inquisitive: “Look at your hands, Dmitri Fyodorovitch. They’re all over blood!” “Yes,” answered Mitya mechanically. He looked carelessly at his hands and at once forgot them and Fenya’s question. He sank into silence again.
He realized that what he wanted was to go to Fyodor Pavlovitch’s and find out if anything had happened there. “On account of some stupid nonsense—as it’s sure to turn out—am I going to wake up the household and make a scandal? Fooh! damn it, is it my business to look after them?” In a very bad humor he went straight home, and suddenly remembered Fenya. “Damn it all!
Alyosha went towards the cathedral square to the widow Morozov’s house to see Grushenka, who had sent Fenya to him early in the morning with an urgent message begging him to come. Questioning Fenya, Alyosha learned that her mistress had been particularly distressed since the previous day.
And to make matters worse, both his hands were smeared with blood. On the way, as he ran, he must have touched his forehead with them, wiping off the perspiration, so that on his forehead and his right cheek were blood-stained patches. Fenya was on the verge of hysterics. The old cook had jumped up and was staring at him like a mad woman, almost unconscious with terror.
"Tres faciunt collegium," I said gaily. "What if we were to ask Natalya Gavrilovna? What do you think? Fenya," I said, turning to the maid, "ask Natalya Gavrilovna to come upstairs to us, if possible at once. Tell her it's a very important matter." A little later Natalya Gavrilovna came in. I got up to meet her and said: "Excuse us for troubling you, Natalie.
You owe it me, you know you do!” “Yes, I really do. Do you know, Alyosha, I promised him champagne on the top of everything, if he’d bring you? I’ll have some too! Fenya, Fenya, bring us the bottle Mitya left! Look sharp! Though I am so stingy, I’ll stand a bottle, not for you, Rakitin, you’re a toadstool, but he is a falcon!
Live, my joy.... You loved me for an hour, remember Mityenka Karamazov so for ever.... She always used to call me Mityenka, do you remember?” And with those words he went suddenly out of the kitchen. Fenya was almost more frightened at this sudden departure than she had been when he ran in and attacked her.
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