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Updated: May 15, 2025
I’ve got it at home in the town,” faltered Mitya, his spirit sinking at every word he uttered. “Upon my word, the money’s there, hidden.” In an instant an extraordinary sense of personal dignity showed itself in the little man’s face. “What next?” he asked ironically. “For shame!” and he spat on the floor. Pan Vrublevsky spat too.
In the letter was enclosed a receipt for the sum, with a promise to repay it within three months, signed by Pan Vrublevsky as well. Grushenka had received many such letters, accompanied by such receipts, from her former lover during the fortnight of her convalescence. But she knew that the two Poles had been to ask after her health during her illness.
He used to laugh and sing to me.... And I’ve been crying for five years, damned fool, abject, shameless I was!” She sank back in her low chair and hid her face in her hands. At that instant the chorus of Mokroe began singing in the room on the left—a rollicking dance song. “A regular Sodom!” Vrublevsky roared suddenly. “Landlord, send the shameless hussies away!”
“You’re fools, you panovie,” broke suddenly from Mitya. “Panie!” shouted both the Poles, menacingly, setting on Mitya like a couple of cocks. Pan Vrublevsky was specially furious. “Can one help loving one’s own country?” he shouted. “Be silent! Don’t quarrel! I won’t have any quarreling!” cried Grushenka imperiously, and she stamped her foot on the floor. Her face glowed, her eyes were shining.
Drink, most illustrious, take your glass!” Mitya urged. “Pan Vrublevsky,” put in the Pole on the sofa. Pan Vrublevsky came up to the table, swaying as he walked. “To Poland, panovie!” cried Mitya, raising his glass. “Hurrah!” All three drank. Mitya seized the bottle and again poured out three glasses. “Now to Russia, panovie, and let us be brothers!”
“It’s lite, panovie,” the Pole on the sofa responded, as it were unwillingly. “That’s true,” assented Pan Vrublevsky. “Lite? What do you mean by ‘lite’?” asked Grushenka. “Late, pani! ‘a late hour’ I mean,” the Pole on the sofa explained. “It’s always late with them. They can never do anything!” Grushenka almost shrieked in her anger. “They’re dull themselves, so they want others to be dull.
Both the Poles rose from their seats with a deeply offended air. “Are you joking, panie?” said the short man, looking severely at Kalganov. “How dare you!” Pan Vrublevsky, too, growled at Kalganov. “Don’t dare to shout like that,” cried Grushenka. “Ah, you turkey-cocks!” Mitya looked at each of them in turn.
But before he had uttered the words, Vrublevsky, with a confused and infuriated face, shook his fist at Grushenka, shouting: “You low harlot!” Mitya flew at him at once, clutched him in both hands, lifted him in the air, and in one instant had carried him into the room on the right, from which they had just come.
“In the next room, I’ve two words to say to you, something pleasant, very pleasant. You’ll be glad to hear it.” The little pan was taken aback and looked apprehensively at Mitya. He agreed at once, however, on condition that Pan Vrublevsky went with them. “The bodyguard? Let him come, and I want him, too. I must have him!” cried Mitya. “March, panovie!”
Trifon Borissovitch, recalled, was forced, in spite of his evasions, to admit that Pan Vrublevsky had substituted another pack of cards for the one he had provided, and that Pan Mussyalovitch had cheated during the game. Kalganov confirmed this, and both the Poles left the witness-box with damaged reputations, amidst laughter from the public.
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