Page 678 - the-brothers-karamazov

pecially in the tavern, at his own ingenuous public avowal
that all he had got out of Grushenka by this ‘escapade’ was
‘permission to kiss her foot, and that was the utmost she had
allowed him.’
By the time Mitya and Pyotr Ilyitch reached the shop,
they found a cart with three horses harnessed abreast with
bells, and with Andrey, the driver, ready waiting for Mitya
at the entrance. In the shop they had almost entirely fin-
ished packing one box of provisions, and were only waiting
for Mitya’s arrival to nail it down and put it in the cart.
Pyotr Ilyitch was astounded.
‘Where did this cart come from in such a hurry?’ he
asked Mitya.
‘I met Andrey as I ran to you, and told him to drive
straight here to the shop. There’s no time to lose. Last time
I drove with Timofey, but Timofey now has gone on before
me with the witch. Shall we be very late, Andrey?’
‘They’ll only get there an hour at most before us, not even
that maybe. I got Timofey ready to start. I know how he’ll go.
Their pace won’t be ours, Dmitri Fyodorovitch. How could
it be? They won’t get there an hour earlier!’ Andrey, a lanky,
red-haired, middle-aged driver, wearing a full-skirted coat,
and with a kaftan on his arm, replied warmly.
‘Fifty roubles for vodka if we’re only an hour behind
them.’
‘I warrant the time, Dmitri Fyodorovitch. Ech, they won’t
be half an hour before us, let alone an hour.’
Though Mitya bustled about seeing after things, he gave
his orders strangely, as it were, disconnectedly, and incon-