There was one point which interested him particularly about Katerina Ivanovnas commission; when she had mentioned the captains son, the little schoolboy who had run beside his father crying, the idea had at once struck Alyosha that this must be the schoolboy who had bitten his finger when he, Alyosha, asked him what he had done to hurt him. Now Alyosha felt practically certain of this, though he could not have said why. Thinking of another subject was a relief, and he resolved to think no more about the mischief he had done, and not to torture himself with remorse, but to do what he had to do, let come what would. At that thought he was completely comforted. Turning to the street where Dmitri lodged, he felt hungry, and taking out of his pocket the roll he had brought from his fathers, he ate it. It made him feel stronger.
Dmitri was not at home. The people of the house, an old cabinetmaker, his son, and his old wife, looked with positive suspicion at Alyosha. He hasnt slept here for the last three nights. Maybe he has gone away, the old man said in answer to Alyoshas persistent inquiries. Alyosha saw that he was answering in accordance with instructions. When he asked whether he were not at Grushenkas or in hiding at Fomas (Alyosha spoke so freely on purpose), all three looked at him in alarm. They are fond of him, they are doing their best for him, thought Alyosha. Thats good.
At last he found the house in Lake Street. It was a decrepit little house, sunk on one side, with three windows looking into the street, and with a muddy yard, in the middle of which stood a solitary cow. He crossed the yard and found the door opening into the passage. On the left of the passage lived the old woman of the house with her old daughter. Both seemed to be deaf. In answer to his repeated inquiry for the captain, one of them at last understood that he was asking for their lodgers, and pointed to a door across the passage. The captains lodging turned out to be a simple cottage room. Alyosha had his hand on the iron latch to open the door, when he was struck by the strange hush within. Yet he knew from Katerina Ivanovnas words that the man had a family. Either they are all asleep or perhaps they have heard me coming and are waiting for me to open the door. Id better knock first, and he knocked. An answer came, but not at once, after an interval of perhaps ten seconds.
Whos there? shouted some one in a loud and very angry voice.
Then Alyosha opened the door and crossed the threshold. He found himself in a regular peasants room. Though it was large, it was cumbered up with domestic belongings of all sorts, and there were several people in it. On the left was a large Russian stove. From the stove to the window on the left was a string running across the room, and on it there were rags hanging. There was a bedstead against the wall on each side, right and left, covered with knitted quilts. On the one on the left was a pyramid of four printcovered pillows, each smaller than the one beneath. On the other there was only one very small pillow. The opposite corner was screened off by a curtain or a sheet hung on a string. Behind this curtain could be seen a bed made up on a bench and a chair. The rough square table of plain wood had been moved into the middle window. The three windows, which consisted each of four tiny greenish mildewy panes, gave little light, and were close shut, so that the room was not very light and rather stuffy. On the table was a fryingpan with the remains of some fried eggs, a halfeaten piece of bread, and a small bottle with a few drops of vodka.
A woman of genteel appearance, wearing a cotton gown, was sitting on a chair by the bed on the left. Her face was thin and yellow, and her sunken cheeks betrayed at the first glance that she was ill. But what struck Alyosha most was the expression in the poor womans eyesa look of surprised inquiry and yet of haughty pride. And while he was talking to her husband, her big brown eyes moved from one speaker to the other with the same haughty and questioning expression. Beside her at the window stood a young girl, rather plain, with scanty reddish hair, poorly but very neatly dressed. She looked disdainfully at Alyosha as he came in. Beside the other bed was sitting another female figure. She was a very sad sight, a young girl of about twenty, but hunchback and crippled with withered legs, as Alyosha was told afterwards. Her crutches stood in the corner close by. The strikingly beautiful and gentle eyes of this poor girl looked with mild serenity at Alyosha. A man of fortyfive was sitting at the table, finishing the fried eggs. He was spare, small and weakly built. He had reddish hair and a scanty lightcolored beard, very much like a wisp of tow (this comparison and the phrase a wisp of tow flashed at once into Alyoshas mind for some reason, he remembered it afterwards). It was obviously this gentleman who had shouted to him, as there was no other man in the room. But when Alyosha went in, he leapt up from the bench on which he was sitting, and, hastily wiping his mouth with a ragged napkin, darted up to Alyosha.
Its a monk come to beg for the monastery. A nice place to come to! the girl standing in the left corner said aloud. The man spun round instantly towards her and answered her in an excited and breaking voice:
No, Varvara, you are wrong. Allow me to ask, he turned again to Alyosha, what has brought you toour retreat?
Alyosha looked attentively at him. It was the first time he had seen him. There was something angular, flurried and irritable about him. Though he had obviously just been drinking, he was not drunk. There was extraordinary impudence in his expression, and yet, strange to say, at the same time there was fear. He looked like a man who had long been kept in subjection and had submitted to it, and now had suddenly turned and was trying to assert himself. Or, better still, like a man who wants dreadfully to hit you but is horribly afraid you will hit him. In his words and in the intonation of his shrill voice there was a sort of crazy humor, at times spiteful and at times cringing, and continually shifting from one tone to another. The question about our retreat he had asked as it were quivering all over, rolling his eyes, and skipping up so close to Alyosha that he instinctively drew back a step. He was dressed in a very shabby dark cotton coat, patched and spotted. He wore checked trousers of an extremely light color, long out of fashion, and of very thin material. They were so crumpled and so short that he looked as though he had grown out of them like a boy.
I am Alexey Karamazov, Alyosha began in reply.
I quite understand that, sir, the gentleman snapped out at once to assure him that he knew who he was already. I am Captain Snegiryov, sir, but I am still desirous to know precisely what has led you
Oh, Ive come for nothing special. I wanted to have a word with youif only you allow me.
In that case, here is a chair, sir; kindly be seated. Thats what they used to say in the old comedies, kindly be seated, and with a rapid gesture he seized an empty chair (it was a rough wooden chair, not upholstered) and set it for him almost in the middle of the room; then, taking another similar chair for himself, he sat down facing Alyosha, so close to him that their knees almost touched.
Nikolay Ilyitch Snegiryov, sir, formerly a captain in the Russian infantry, put to shame for his vices, but still a captain. Though I might not be one now for the way I talk; for the last half of my life Ive learnt to say sir. Its a word you use when youve come down in the world.
Thats very true, smiled Alyosha. But is it used involuntarily or on purpose?
As Gods above, its involuntary, and I usent to use it! I didnt use the word sir all my life, but as soon as I sank into low water I began to say sir. Its the work of a higher power. I see you are interested in contemporary questions, but how can I have excited your curiosity, living as I do in surroundings impossible for the exercise of hospitality?
Ive comeabout that business.
About what business? the captain interrupted impatiently.
About your meeting with my brother Dmitri Fyodorovitch, Alyosha blurted out awkwardly.
What meeting, sir? You dont mean that meeting? About my wisp of tow, then? He moved closer so that his knees positively knocked against Alyosha. His lips were strangely compressed like a thread.
What wisp of tow? muttered Alyosha.
He is come to complain of me, father! cried a voice familiar to Alyoshathe voice of the schoolboyfrom behind the curtain. I bit his finger just now. The curtain was pulled, and Alyosha saw his assailant lying on a little bed made up on the bench and the chair in the corner under the ikons. The boy lay covered by his coat and an old wadded quilt. He was evidently unwell, and, judging by his glittering eyes, he was in a fever. He looked at Alyosha without fear, as though he felt he was at home and could not be touched.
What! Did he bite your finger? The captain jumped up from his chair. Was it your finger he bit?
Yes. He was throwing stones with other schoolboys. There were six of them against him alone. I went up to him, and he threw a stone at me and then another at my head. I asked him what I had done to him. And then he rushed at me and bit my finger badly, I dont know why.
Ill thrash him, sir, at oncethis minute! The captain jumped up from his seat.
But I am not complaining at all, I am simply telling you I dont want him to be thrashed. Besides, he seems to be ill.
And do you suppose Id thrash him? That Id take my Ilusha and thrash him before you for your satisfaction? Would you like it done at once, sir? said the captain, suddenly turning to Alyosha, as though he were going to attack him. I am sorry about your finger, sir; but instead of thrashing Ilusha, would you like me to chop off my four fingers with this knife here before your eyes to satisfy your just wrath? I should think four fingers would be enough to satisfy your thirst for vengeance. You wont ask for the fifth one too? He stopped short with a catch in his throat. Every feature in his face was twitching and working; he looked extremely defiant. He was in a sort of frenzy.