Page 166 - the-brothers-karamazov

longing to a little tumbledown house with four windows.
The owner of this house, as Alyosha knew, was a bedridden
old woman, living with her daughter, who had been a gen-
teel maid-servant in generals’ families in Petersburg. Now
she had been at home a year, looking after her sick moth-
er. She always dressed up in fine clothes, though her old
mother and she had sunk into such poverty that they went
every day to Fyodor Pavlovitch’s kitchen for soup and bread,
which Marfa gave readily. Yet, though the young woman
came up for soup, she had never sold any of her dresses, and
one of these even had a long train — a fact which Alyo-
sha had learned from Rakitin, who always knew everything
that was going on in the town. He had forgotten it as soon
as he heard it, but now, on reaching the garden, he remem-
bered the dress with the train, raised his head, which had
been bowed in thought, and came upon something quite
unexpected.
Over the hurdle in the garden, Dmitri, mounted on
something, was leaning forward, gesticulating violently,
beckoning to him, obviously afraid to utter a word for fear
of being overheard. Alyosha ran up to the hurdle.
‘It’s a good thing you looked up. I was nearly shouting to
you,’ Mitya said in a joyful, hurried whisper. ‘Climb in here
quickly! How splendid that you’ve come! I was just think-
ing of you.’
Alyosha was delighted too, but he did not know how to
get over the hurdle. Mitya put his powerful hand under his
elbow to help him jump. Tucking up his cassock, Alyosha
leapt over the hurdle with the agility of a bare-legged street

1