Page 656 - the-brothers-karamazov

light of the window fell on the front part of the bush.
‘How red the whitebeam berries are!’ he murmured, not
knowing why. Softly and noiselessly, step by step, he ap-
proached the window, and raised himself on tiptoe. All
Fyodor Pavlovitch’s bedroom lay open before him. It was
not a large room, and was divided in two parts by a red
screen, ‘Chinese,’ as Fyodor Pavlovitch used to call it. The
word ‘Chinese’ flashed into Mitya’s mind, ‘and behind the
screen, is Grushenka,’ thought Mitya. He began watching
Fyodor Pavlovitch who was wearing his new striped-silk
dressing-gown, which Mitya had never seen, and a silk
cord with tassels round the waist. A clean, dandified shirt
of fine linen with gold studs peeped out under the collar of
the dressing-gown. On his head Fyodor Pavlovitch had the
same red bandage which Alyosha had seen.
‘He has got himself up,’ thought Mitya.
His father was standing near the window, apparently lost
in thought. Suddenly he jerked up his head, listened a mo-
ment, and hearing nothing went up to the table, poured out
half a glass of brandy from a decanter and drank it off. Then
he uttered a deep sigh, again stood still a moment, walked
carelessly up to the looking-glass on the wall, with his right
hand raised the red bandage on his forehead a little, and
began examining his bruises and scars, which had not yet
disappeared.
‘He’s alone,’ thought Mitya, ‘in all probability he’s alone.’
Fyodor Pavlovitch moved away from the looking-glass,
turned suddenly to the window and looked out. Mitya in-
stantly slipped away into the shadow.