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feeling, not like an everyday rite. But Miusov fancied that
it was all done with intentional impressiveness. He stood
in front of the other visitors. He ought — he had reflected
upon it the evening before — from simple politeness, since
it was the custom here, to have gone up to receive the elder’s
blessing, even if he did not kiss his hand. But when he saw
all this bowing and kissing on the part of the monks he in-
stantly changed his mind. With dignified gravity he made a
rather deep, conventional bow, and moved away to a chair.
Fyodor Pavlovitch did the same, mimicking Miusov like an
ape. Ivan bowed with great dignity and courtesy, but he too
kept his hands at his sides, while Kalganov was so confused
that he did not bow at all. The elder let fall the hand raised
to bless them, and bowing to them again, asked them all
to sit down. The blood rushed to Alyosha’s cheeks. He was
ashamed. His forebodings were coming true.
Father Zossima sat down on a very old-fashioned ma-
hogany sofa, covered with leather, and made his visitors sit
down in a row along the opposite wall on four mahogany
chairs, covered with shabby black leather. The monks sat,
one at the door and the other at the window. The divinity
student, the novice, and Alyosha remained standing. The
cell was not very large and had a faded look. It contained
nothing but the most necessary furniture, of coarse and
poor quality. There were two pots of flowers in the window,
and a number of holy pictures in the corner. Before one
huge ancient ikon of the virgin a lamp was burning. Near it
were two other holy pictures in shining settings, and, next
them, carved cherubim, china eggs, a Catholic cross of ivo-

The Brothers Karamazov