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secutively. He began a sentence and forgot the end of it.
Pyotr Ilyitch found himself obliged to come to the rescue.
‘Four hundred roubles’ worth, not less than four hun-
dred roubles’ worth, just as it was then,’ commanded Mitya.
‘Four dozen champagne, not a bottle less.’
‘What do you want with so much? What’s it for? Stay!’
cried Pyotr Ilyitch. ‘What’s this box? What’s in it? Surely
there isn’t four hundred roubles’ worth here?’
The officious shopmen began explaining with oily polite-
ness that the first box contained only half a dozen bottles
of champagne, and only ‘the most indispensable articles,’
such as savouries, sweets, toffee, etc. But the main part of
the goods ordered would be packed and sent off, as on the
previous occasion, in a special cart also with three hors-
es travelling at full speed, so that it would arrive not more
than an hour later than Dmitri Fyodorovitch himself.
‘Not more than an hour! Not more than an hour! And
put in more toffee and fondants. The girls there are so fond
of it,’ Mitya insisted hotly.
‘The fondants are all right. But what do you want with
four dozen of champagne? One would be enough,’ said
Pyotr Ilyitch, almost angry. He began bargaining, asking
for a bill of the goods, and refused to be satisfied. But he
only succeeded in saving a hundred roubles. In the end it
was agreed that only three hundred roubles’ worth should
be sent.
‘Well, you may go to the devil!’ cried Pyotr Ilyitch, on
second thoughts. ‘What’s it to do with me? Throw away
your money, since it’s cost you nothing.’

The Brothers Karamazov