“It’s not him, miss, it’s some others, they’re all right.”

“What’s the matter with her?” Rakitin muttered as he led Alyosha by the arm into the drawing room. Grushenka stood by the sofa, still looking frightened. A thick coil of her dark brown braid escaped suddenly from under the fichu and fell over her right shoulder, but she did not notice it and did not tuck it back until she had peered into her visitors’ faces and recognized them.

“Ah, it’s you, Rakitka? You got me all frightened. Who did you bring? Who is that with you? Lord, look who he’s brought!” she exclaimed as she made out Alyosha’s face.

“Send for some candles!” Rakitin said with the casual air of a very close acquaintance and intimate, who even has the right to give orders in the house.

“Candles ... of course, candles ... Fenya, fetch him a candle ... Well, you chose a fine time to bring him!” she exclaimed again, nodding at Alyosha, and turning to the mirror, she began to tuck up her braid with both hands. She seemed displeased.

“Why, is something wrong?” Rakitin asked, instantly almost offended.

“You frightened me, Rakitka, that’s what,” Grushenka turned to Alyosha with a smile. “Don’t be afraid of me, Alyosha darling, I’m awfully glad to see you, my so-unexpected visitor. But you, Rakitka, you frightened me: I thought it was Mitya forcing his way in. You see, I tricked him this afternoon, I made him swear to believe me, and then I lied to him. I told him I was going to be with Kuzma Kuzmich, my old man, all evening, counting the money with him till late at night. I go every week and spend a whole evening settling accounts with him. We lock ourselves in: he clicks away on the abacus, and I sit and write it down in the books—I’m the only one he trusts. Mitya believed I’d be there, but I’ve locked myself up in my house and sit here waiting for a message. How could Fenya have let you in! Fenya, Fenya! Run out to the gate, open it, and look around, see if the captain is there anywhere. Maybe he’s hiding and spying on me, I’m scared to death!”

“No one’s there, Agrafena Alexandrovna, I just looked, and I keep peeking through the crack all the time, because I’m in fear and trembling myself.”

“Are the shutters fastened, Fenya? And the curtains should be drawn— there!” she drew the heavy curtains herself, “or he might see the light and come flying in. I’m afraid of your brother Mitya today, Alyosha.” Grushenka was speaking loudly, and though she was worried, she also seemed almost in a sort of ecstasy.

“Why are you so afraid of Mitenka today?” Rakitin inquired. “You don’t seem to be timid with him, he dances to your tune.”

“I told you, I’m expecting a message, a certain golden message, so it would be better now if there were no Mitenka around at all. Besides, he didn’t believe I was going to see Kuzma Kuzmich, I feel it. He must be sitting there in the garden now, behind Fyodor Pavlovich’s house, watching for me. And if he’s sat himself down there, then he won’t come here—so much the better! And I really did run over to see Kuzma Kuzmich, Mitya took me there himself, I told him I’d stay till midnight, and that he must come at midnight to take me home. He left, and I stayed at the old man’s for about ten minutes and came back here again—oh, was I scared, I ran so as not to meet him.”

“And why are you so spruced up? What a curious little cap you’ve got on!”

“You’re much too curious yourself, Rakitin! I told you, I’m expecting a certain message. When it comes, I’ll jump up and fly away, and that will be the last you ever see of me. So I’m all dressed and ready to go.”

“Where will you fly to?”

“Ask me no questions, I’ll tell you no lies.”

“Just look at her! Happy all over ... I’ve never seen you like this. Decked out as if for a ball,” Rakitin looked her up and down.

“A lot you know about balls.”

“And you?”

“I saw a ball once. Two years ago Kuzma Kuzmich’s son got married, and I watched from the gallery. But why am I talking with you, Rakitka, when such a prince is standing here? What a visitor! Alyosha, darling, I look at you and can’t believe it—Lord, how can you be here? To tell the truth, I never dreamed, I never expected, and till now I never believed you would come. Though it’s not the right moment, still I’m awfully glad to see you! Sit down on the sofa, here, like that, my young moon. Really, I still can’t come to my senses ... Ah, Rakitka, why didn’t you bring him yesterday, or the day before...! Well, I’m glad all the same. Maybe it’s even better that it’s now, at such a moment, and not two days ago ...”

She came over friskily, sat down next to Alyosha on the sofa, and looked at him decidedly with admiration. She really was glad, she was not lying when she said so. Her eyes were shining, her lips laughing, but good-naturedly, gaily. Alyosha never expected to see such a kind expression on her face ... He had seldom met her until the day before, had formed a horrifying notion of her, and had been so terribly shocked the day before by her vicious and perfidious escapade with Katerina Ivanovna, that he was very surprised now suddenly to see in her, as it were, quite a different and unexpected being. And however weighed down he was by his own grief, his eyes involuntarily rested on her with attention. Her whole manner also seemed to have changed for the better since the day before: there was almost no trace of that sugary inflection, of those pampered and affected movements ... everything was simple, simple-hearted, her movements were quick, direct, trusting, but she was very excited.

“Oh, Lord, such things keep coming true today, really,” she began prattling again. “And why I’m so glad of you, Alyosha, I don’t know myself. If you asked, I couldn’t say.”

‘“You really don’t know why you’re glad?” Rakitin grinned. “There must have been some reason why you kept pestering me to bring him, bring him, all the time.”

“I had a different reason before, but that’s gone now, it’s not the right moment. I’ll feed you now, that’s what. I’ve become kind now, Rakitka. Do sit down, Rakitka, why are you standing? Ah, you are sitting down? Never fear, Rakitushka will always look out for himself. Now he’s sitting across from us, Alyosha, and feeling offended because I didn’t ask him to sit down before you. My Rakitka is touchy, oh, so touchy!” Grushenka laughed. “Don’t be angry, Rakitka, I’m feeling kind today. But why are you sitting there so sadly, Alyoshechka, or are you afraid of me?” she looked into his eyes with mocking gaiety.

“He has a grief. He didn’t get promoted,” Rakitin said in a deep voice.

“What do you mean, promoted?”

“His elder got smelly.”

“What do you mean, ‘smelly’? You’re spewing a lot of nonsense, you just want to say something nasty. Shut up, fool. Will you let me sit on your lap, Alyosha—like this!” And all at once she sprang up suddenly and, laughing, leaped onto his knees like an affectionate cat, tenderly embracing his neck with her right arm. “I’ll cheer you up, my pious boy! No, really, will you let me sit on your lap for a little, you won’t be angry? Tell me—I’ll jump off.”

Alyosha was silent. He sat afraid to move; he heard her say: “Tell me—I’ll jump off,” but did not answer, as if he were frozen. Yet what was happening in him was not what might have been expected, or what might have been imagined, for example, by Rakitin, who was watching carnivorously from where he sat. The great grief in his soul absorbed all the feelings his heart might have conceived, and if he had been able at that moment to give himself a full accounting, he would have understood that he was now wearing the strongest armor against any seduction and temptation. Nevertheless, despite all the vague unaccountability of his state of soul and all the grief that was weighing on him, he still could not help marveling at a new and strange sensation that was awakening in his heart: this woman, this “horrible” woman, not only did not arouse in him the fear he had felt before, the fear that used to spring up in him every time he thought of a woman, if such a thought flashed through his soul, but, on the contrary, this woman, of whom he was afraid most of all, who was sitting on his knees and embracing him, now aroused in him suddenly quite a different, unexpected, and special feeling, the feeling of some remarkable, great, and most pure-hearted curiosity, and without any fear now, without a trace of his former terror—that was the main thing, and it could not but surprise him.