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Updated: May 5, 2025
“How dare you defend me to him?” shrieked Grushenka. “It wasn’t virtue kept me pure, and it wasn’t that I was afraid of Kuzma, but that I might hold up my head when I met him, and tell him he’s a scoundrel. And he did actually refuse the money?” “He took it! He took it!” cried Mitya; “only he wanted to get the whole three thousand at once, and I could only give him seven hundred straight off.”
Ivan and Alyosha caught the old man and were forcibly bringing him back. “Why do you run after him? He’ll murder you outright,” Ivan cried wrathfully at his father. “Ivan! Alyosha! She must be here. Grushenka’s here. He said he saw her himself, running.” He was choking. He was not expecting Grushenka at the time, and the sudden news that she was here made him beside himself.
This was a man of character: he had so good an opinion of himself that after all that had passed, he still expected that she would marry him. Mitya slammed the door after him. “Lock it,” said Kalganov. But the key clicked on the other side, they had locked it from within. “That’s capital!” exclaimed Grushenka relentlessly. “Serve them right!”
Mitya stood for a moment, then mechanically sank on to a chair next to Fenya. He sat, not reflecting but, as it were, terror-stricken, benumbed. Yet everything was clear as day: that officer, he knew about him, he knew everything perfectly, he had known it from Grushenka herself, had known that a letter had come from him a month before.
A whole series of letters had followed—one every day—all as pompous and rhetorical, but the loan asked for, gradually diminishing, dropped to a hundred roubles, then to twenty-five, to ten, and finally Grushenka received a letter in which both the Poles begged her for only one rouble and included a receipt signed by both.
“Her proud lips spoke, not her heart,” Grushenka brought out in a tone of disgust. “If she saves you I’ll forgive her everything—” She stopped speaking, as though suppressing something. She could not yet recover herself. She had come in, as appeared afterwards, accidentally, with no suspicion of what she would meet.
“You did not disdain me, sweet, excellent young lady,” drawled Grushenka in her sing-song voice, still with the same charming smile of delight. “Don’t dare to speak to me like that, you sorceress, you witch! Disdain you! Here, I must kiss your lower lip once more. It looks as though it were swollen, and now it will be more so, and more and more. Look how she laughs, Alexey Fyodorovitch!
“So that you may be left to remember that you kissed my hand, but I didn’t kiss yours.” There was a sudden gleam in her eyes. She looked with awful intentness at Katerina Ivanovna. “Insolent creature!” cried Katerina Ivanovna, as though suddenly grasping something. She flushed all over and leapt up from her seat. Grushenka too got up, but without haste.
“I ... I’m not crying.... Well, good evening!” He instantly turned round in his chair, and suddenly laughed, not his abrupt wooden laugh, but a long, quivering, inaudible nervous laugh. “Well, there you are again.... Come, cheer up, cheer up!” Grushenka said to him persuasively. “I’m very glad you’ve come, very glad, Mitya, do you hear, I’m very glad!
He looked sometimes with a face of suffering at his brother. He seemed to be more at ease with Grushenka than with Alyosha. It is true, he scarcely spoke to her at all, but as soon as she came in, his whole face lighted up with joy. Alyosha sat down beside him on the bed in silence. This time Mitya was waiting for Alyosha in suspense, but he did not dare ask him a question.
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