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What are you doing, loading the pistol? Im loading the pistol. Unfastening the pistol-case, Mitya actually opened the powder horn, and carefully sprinkled and rammed in the charge. Then he took the bullet and before inserting it, held it in two fingers in front of the candle. Why are you looking at the bullet? asked Pyotr Ilyitch, watching him with uneasy curiosity. Oh, a fancy. Why if you meant to put that bullet in your brain, would you look at it or not? Why look at it? Its going into my brain, so its interesting to look and see what its like. But thats foolishness, a moments foolishness. Now thats done, he added, putting in the bullet and driving it home with the ramrod. Pyotr Ilyitch, my dear fellow, thats nonsense, all nonsense, and if only you knew what nonsense! Give me a little piece of paper now. Heres some paper. No, a clean new piece, writing paper. Thats right. And taking a pen from the table, Mitya rapidly wrote two lines, folded the paper in four, and thrust it in his waistcoat pocket. He put the pistols in the case, locked it up, and kept it in his hand. Then he looked at Pyotr Ilyitch with a slow, thoughtful smile. Now, lets go, he said. Where are we going? No, wait a minute Are you thinking of putting that bullet in your brain, perhaps? Pyotr Ilyitch asked uneasily. I was fooling about the bullet! I want to live. I love life! You may be sure of that. I love golden-haired Phbus and his warm light. Dear Pyotr Ilyitch, do you know how to step aside? What do you mean by stepping aside? Making way. Making way for a dear creature, and for one I hate. And to let the one I hate become dearthats what making way means! And to say to them: God bless you, go your way, pass on, while I While you? Thats enough, lets go. Upon my word, Ill tell some one to prevent your going there, said Pyotr Ilyitch, looking at him. What are you going to Mokroe for, now? Theres a woman there, a woman. Thats enough for you. You shut up. Listen, though youre such a savage Ive always liked you. I feel anxious. Thanks, old fellow. Im a savage you say. Savages, savages! Thats what Im always saying. Savages! Why, heres Misha! I was forgetting him. Misha ran in, post haste, with a handful of notes in change, and reported that every one was in a bustle at the Plotnikovs; Theyre carrying down the bottles, and the fish, and the tea; it will all be ready directly. Mitya seized ten roubles and handed it to Pyotr Ilyitch, then tossed another ten-rouble note to Misha. |
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