Page 618 - the-brothers-karamazov

a vast, dreary room that laid a weight of depression on the
heart. It had a double row of windows, a gallery, marbled
walls, and three immense chandeliers with glass lustres
covered with shades.
Mitya was sitting on a little chair at the entrance, await-
ing his fate with nervous impatience. When the old man
appeared at the opposite door, seventy feet away, Mitya
jumped up at once, and with his long, military stride
walked to meet him. Mitya was well dressed, in a frock-
coat, buttoned up, with a round hat and black gloves in his
hands, just as he had been three days before at the elder’s,
at the family meeting with his father and brothers. The
old man waited for him, standing dignified and unbend-
ing, and Mitya felt at once that he had looked him through
and through as he advanced. Mitya was greatly impressed,
too, with Samsonov’s immensely swollen face. His lower lip,
which had always been thick, hung down now, looking like
a bun. He bowed to his guest in dignified silence, motioned
him to a low chair by the sofa, and, leaning on his son’s arm
he began lowering himself on to the sofa opposite, groaning
painfully, so that Mitya, seeing his painful exertions, im-
mediately felt remorseful and sensitively conscious of his
insignificance in the presence of the dignified person he
had ventured to disturb.
‘What is it you want of me, sir?’ said the old man, delib-
erately, distinctly, severely, but courteously, when he was at
last seated.
Mitya started, leapt up, but sat down again. Then he
began at once speaking with loud, nervous haste, gesticu-

1