Page 672 - the-brothers-karamazov

‘An old man!’ cried Mitya, looking Pyotr Ilyitch straight
in the face, laughing, and shouting at him as though he
were deaf.
‘Confound it! An old woman, an old man.... Have you
killed someone?’
‘We made it up. We had a row — and made it up. In a
place I know of. We parted friends. A fool.... He’s forgiven
me.... He’s sure to have forgiven me by now... if he had got up,
he wouldn’t have forgiven me’ — Mitya suddenly winked —
‘only damn him, you know, I say, Pyotr Ilyitch, damn him!
Don’t worry about him! I don’t want to just now!’ Mitya
snapped out, resolutely.
‘Whatever do you want to go picking quarrels with ev-
eryone for?... Just as you did with that captain over some
nonsense.... You’ve been fighting and now you’re rushing off
on the spree — that’s you all over! Three dozen champagne
— what do you want all that for?’
‘Bravo! Now give me the pistols. Upon my honour I’ve no
time now. I should like to have a chat with you, my dear boy,
but I haven’t the time. And there’s no need, it’s too late for
talking. Where’s my money? Where have I put it?’ he cried,
thrusting his hands into his pockets.
‘You put it on the table... yourself.... Here it is. Had you
forgotten? Money’s like dirt or water to you, it seems. Here
are your pistols. It’s an odd thing, at six o’clock you pledged
them for ten roubles, and now you’ve got thousands. Two or
three I should say.’
‘Three, you bet,’ laughed Mitya, stuffing the notes into
the side-pocket of his trousers.

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