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comfort them just now. Let wait a minute and then go
back.’
‘No, it’s no use, it’s awful,’ Kolya assented. ‘Do you know,
Karamazov,’ he dropped his voice so that no one could hear
them, ‘I feel dreadfully sad, and if it were only possible to
bring him back, I’d give anything in the world to do it.’
‘Ah, so would I,’ said Alyosha.
‘What do you think, Karamazov? Had we better come
back here to-night? He’ll be drunk, you know.’
‘Perhaps he will. Let us come together, you and I, that
will be enough, to spend an hour with them, with the moth-
er and Nina. If we all come together we shall remind them
of everything again,’ Alyosha suggested.
‘The landlady is laying the table for them now — there’ll
be a funeral dinner or something, the priest is coming; shall
we go back to it, Karamazov?’
‘Of course,’ said Alyosha.
‘It’s all so strange, Karamazov, such sorrow and then
pancakes after it, it all seems so unnatural in our religion.’
‘They are going to have salmon, too,’ the boy who had
discovered about Troy observed in a loud voice.
‘I beg you most earnestly, Kartashov, not to interrupt
again with your idiotic remarks, especially when one is not
talking to you and doesn’t care to know whether you exist
or not!’ Kolya snapped out irritably. The boy flushed crim-
son but did not dare to reply.
Meantime they were strolling slowly along the path and
suddenly Smurov exclaimed:
‘There’s Ilusha’s stone, under which they wanted to bury

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