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and not you. Home, home, Ill eat at home, I dont feel equal to it here, Pyotr Alexandrovitch, my amiable relative. I am not your relative and never have been, you contemptible man! I said it on purpose to madden you, because you always disclaim the relationship, though you really are a relation in spite of your shuffling. Ill prove it by the church calendar. As for you, Ivan, stay if you like. Ill send the horses for you later. Propriety requires you to go to the Father Superior, Pyotr Alexandrovitch, to apologise for the disturbance weve been making Is it true that you are going home? Arent you lying? Pyotr Alexandrovitch! How could I dare after whats happened! Forgive me, gentlemen, I was carried away! And upset besides! And, indeed, I am ashamed. Gentlemen, one man has the heart of Alexander of Macedon and another the heart of the little dog Fido. Mine is that of the little dog Fido. I am abashed! After such an escapade how can I go to dinner, to gobble up the monasterys sauces. I am ashamed, I cant. You must excuse me! The devil only knows, what if he deceives us, thought Miüsov, still hesitating, and watching the retreating buffoon with distrustful eyes. The latter turned round, and noticing that Miüsov was watching him, waved him a kiss. Well, are you coming to the Superior? Miüsov asked Ivan abruptly. Why not? I was especially invited yesterday. Unfortunately I feel myself compelled to go to this confounded dinner, said Miüsov with the same irritability, regardless of the fact that the monk was listening. We ought, at least, to apologise for the disturbance, and explain that it was not our doing. What do you think? Yes, we must explain that it wasnt our doing. Besides, father wont be there, observed Ivan. Well, I should hope not! Confound this dinner! They all walked on, however. The monk listened in silence. On the road through the copse he made one observation howeverthat the Father Superior had been waiting a long time, and that they were more than half an hour late. He received no answer. Miüsov looked with hatred at Ivan. Here he is, going to the dinner as though nothing had happened,he thought. A brazen face, and the conscience of a Karamazov! |
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