then; he was so kind to me, so merry; he used to sing to me.... Or so it seemed to a silly girl like me.... And now, O Lord, it's not the same man. Even his face is not the same; he's different altogether. I shouldn't have known him. I drove here with Timofey, and all the way I was thinking how I should meet him, what I should say to him, how we should look at one another. My soul was faint, and all of a sudden it was just as though he had emptied a pail of dirty water over me. He talked to me like a schoolmaster, all so grave and learned; he met me so solemnly that I was struck dumb. I couldn't get a word in. At first I thought he was ashamed to talk before his great big Pole. I sat staring at him and wondering why I couldn't say a word to him now. It must have been his wife that ruined him; you know he threw me up to get married. She must have changed him like that. Mitya, how shameful it is! Oh, Mitya, I'm ashamed, I'm ashamed for all my life. Curse it, curse it, curse those five years!'
And again she burst into tears, but clung tight to Mitya's hand and did not let it go.
'Mitya, darling, stay, don't go away. I want to say one word to you,' she whispered, and suddenly raised her face to him. 'Listen, tell me who it is I love? I love one man here. Who is that man? That's what you must tell me.'
A smile lighted up her face that was swollen with weeping, and her eyes shone in the half darkness.
'A falcon flew in, and my heart sank. 'Fool! that's the man you love!’ That was what my heart whispered to me at once. You came in and all grew bright. What's he afraid of? I wondered. For you were frightened; you couldn't speak. It's not them he's afraid of--could you be frightened of anyone? It's me he's afraid of, I thought, only me. So Fenya told you, you little stupid, how I called to Alyosha out of the window that I'd loved Mityenka for one hour, and that I was going now to love... another. Mitya, Mitya, how could I be such a fool as to think I could love anyone after you? Do you forgive me, Mitya? Do you forgive me or not? Do you love me? Do you love me?' She jumped up and held him with both hands on his shoulders. Mitya, dumb with rapture, gazed into her eyes, at her face, at her smile, and suddenly clasped her tightly his arms and kissed her passionately.
'You will forgive me for having tormented you? It was through spite I tormented you all. It was for spite I drove the old man out of his mind.... Do you remember how you drank at my house one day and broke the wine- glass? I remembered that and I broke a glass to-day and drank 'to my vile heart.’ Mitya, my falcon, why don't you kiss me? He kissed me once, and now he draws back and looks and listens. Why listen to me? Kiss me, kiss me hard, that's right. if you love, well, then, love! I'll be your slave now, your slave for the rest of my life. It's sweet to be a slave. Kiss me! Beat me, ill-treat me, do what you will with me.... And I do deserve to suffer. Stay, wait, afterwards, I won't have that...' she suddenly thrust him away. 'Go along, Mitya, I'll come and have some wine, I want to be drunk, I'm going to get drunk and dance; I must, I must!' She tore herself away from him and disappeared behind the curtain. Mitya followed like a drunken man.
'Yes, come what may--whatever may happen now, for one minute I'd give the whole world,' he thought. Grushenka did, in fact, toss off a whole glass of champagne at one gulp, and became at once very tipsy. She sat down in the same chair as before, with a blissful smile on her face. Her cheeks were glowing, her lips were burning, her flashing eyes were moist; there was passionate appeal in her eyes. Even Kalgonov felt a stir at the heart and went up to her.
'Did you feel how I kissed you when you were asleep just now?' she said thickly. 'I'm drunk now, that's what it is.... And aren't you drunk? And why isn't Mitya drinking? Why don't you drink, Mitya? I'm drunk, and you don't drink...'
'I am drunk! I'm drunk as it is... drunk with you... and now I'll be drunk with wine, too.'
He drank off another glass, and--he thought it strange himself- that glass made him completely drunk. He was suddenly drunk, although till that moment he had been quite sober, he remembered that. From that moment everything whirled about him, as though he were delirious. He walked, laughed, talked to everybody, without knowing what he was doing. Only one persistent burning sensation made itself felt continually, 'like a red-hot coal in his heart,' he said afterwards. He went up to her, sat beside her, gazed at her, listened to her.... She became very talkative, kept calling everyone to her, and beckoned to different girls out of the chorus. When the girl came up, she either kissed her, or made the sign of the cross over her. In another minute she might have cried. She was greatly amused by the 'little old man,' as she called Maximov. He ran up every minute to kiss her hands, each little finger,' and finally he danced another dance to an old song, which he sang himself. He danced with special vigour to the refrain:
The little pig says--umph! umph! umph!
The little calf says--moo, moo, moo,
The little duck says--quack, quack, quack,
The little goose says--ga, ga, ga.
The hen goes strutting through the porch;
Troo-roo-roo-roo-roo, she'll say,
Troo-roo-roo-roo-roo, she'll say!
'Give him something, Mitya,' said Grushenka. 'Give him a present, he's poor, you know. Ah, the poor, the insulted!... Do you know, Mitya, I shall go into a nunnery. No, I really shall one day. Alyosha said something to me to-day that I shall remember all my life.... Yes.... But to-day let us dance. To-morrow to the nunnery, but to-day we'll dance. I want to play to-day, good people, and what of it? God will forgive us. If I were God, I'd forgive everyone: ‘My dear sinners, from this day forth I forgive you.’ I'm going to beg forgiveness: ‘Forgive me, good people, a silly wench.’ I'm a beast, that's what I am. But I want to pray. I gave a little onion. Wicked as I've been, I want to pray. Mitya, let them dance, don't stop them. Everyone in the world is good. Everyone--even the worst of them. The world's a nice place. Though we're bad the world's all right. We're good and bad, good and bad.... Come, tell me, I've something to ask you: come here everyone, and I'll ask you: Why am I so good? You know I am good. I'm very good.... Come, why am I so good?'
So Grushenka babbled on, getting more and more drunk. At last she announced that she was going to dance, too. She got up from her chair, staggering. 'Mitya, don't give me any more wine--if I ask you, don't give it to me. Wine doesn't give peace. Everything's going round, the stove, and everything. I want to dance. Let everyone see how I dance... let them see how beautifully I dance...'
She really meant it. She pulled a white cambric handkerchief out of her pocket, and took it by one corner in her right hand, to wave it in the dance. Mitya ran to and fro, the girls were quiet, and got ready to break into a dancing song at the first signal. Maximov, hearing that Grushenka wanted to dance, squealed with delight, and ran skipping about in front of her, humming:
With legs so slim and sides so trim
And its little tail curled tight.
But Grushenka waved her handkerchief at him and drove him away.
'Sh-h! Mitya, why don't they come? Let everyone come... to look on. Call them in, too, that were locked in.... Why did you lock them in? Tell them I'm going to dance. Let them look on, too...'
Mitya walked with a drunken swagger to the locked door, and began knocking to the Poles with his fist.
'Hi, you... Podvysotskis! Come, she's going to dance. She calls you.'
'Lajdak!' one of the Poles shouted in reply.
'You're a lajdak yourself! You're a little scoundrel, that's what you are.'
'Leave off laughing at Poland,' said Kalganov sententiously. He too was drunk.
'Be quiet, boy! If I call him a scoundrel, it doesn't mean that I called all Poland so. One lajdak doesn't make a Poland. Be quiet, my pretty boy, eat a sweetmeat.'
'Ach, what fellows! As though they were not men. Why won't they make friends?' said Grushenka, and went forward to dance. The chorus broke into 'Ah, my porch, my new porch!' Grushenka flung back her head, half opened her lips, smiled, waved her handkerchief, and suddenly, with a violent lurch, stood still in the middle of the room, looking bewildered.
'I'm weak...' she said in an exhausted voice. 'Forgive me.... I'm weak, I can't.... I'm sorry.'
She bowed to the chorus, and then began bowing in all directions.
'I'm sorry.... Forgive me...'
'The lady's been drinking. The pretty lady has been drinking,' voices were heard saying.
'The lady's drunk too much,' Maximov explained to the girls, giggling.
'Mitya, lead me away... take me,' said Grushenka helplessly. Mitya pounced on her, snatched her up in his arms, and carried the precious burden through the curtains.
'Well, now I'll go,' thought Kalganov, and walking out of the blue room, he closed the two halves of the door
