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don’t harm my mistress. And it was I told you all about it....
And don’t murder him, he came first, he’s hers! He’ll mar-
ry Agrafena Alexandrovna now. That’s why he’s come back
from Siberia. Dmitri Fyodorovitch, dear, don’t take a fellow
creature’s life!’
‘Tut-tut-tut! That’s it, is it? So you’re off there to make
trouble!’ muttered Pyotr Ilyitch. ‘Now, it’s all clear, as clear
as daylight. Dmitri Fyodorovitch, give me your pistols at
once if you mean to behave like a man,’ he shouted aloud to
Mitya. ‘Do you hear, Dmitri?’
‘The pistols? Wait a bit, brother, I’ll throw them into the
pool on the road,’ answered Mitya. ‘Fenya, get up, don’t
kneel to me. Mitya won’t hurt anyone, the silly fool won’t
hurt anyone again. But I say, Fenya,’ he shouted, after hav-
ing taken his seat. ‘I hurt you just now, so forgive me and
have pity on me, forgive a scoundrel.... But it doesn’t matter
if you don’t. It’s all the same now. Now then, Andrey, look
alive, fly along full speed!’
Andrey whipped up the horses, and the bells began ring-
ing.
‘Good-bye, Pyotr Ilyitch! My last tear is for you!..’
‘He’s not drunk, but he keeps babbling like a lunatic,’
Pyotr Ilyitch thought as he watched him go. He had half
a mind to stay and see the cart packed with the remain-
ing wines and provisions, knowing that they would deceive
and defraud Mitya. But, suddenly feeling vexed with him-
self, he turned away with a curse and went to the tavern to
play billiards.
‘He’s a fool, though he’s a good fellow,’ he muttered as he