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go? I’ve forgotten the word.’ He went on, passing his hand
before his eyes, ‘Oh, yes, spazieren.’*
* Promenading.
‘Wandering?’
‘Oh, yes, wandering, that’s what I say. Well, his wits went
wandering and fell in such a deep hole that he lost himself.
And yet he was a grateful and sensitive boy. Oh, I remember
him very well, a little chap so high, left neglected by his fa-
ther in the back yard, when he ran about without boots on
his feet, and his little breeches hanging by one button.’
A note of feeling and tenderness suddenly came into the
honest old man’s voice. Fetyukovitch positively started, as
though scenting something, and caught at it instantly.
‘Oh, yes, I was a young man then.... I was... well, I was
forty-five then, and had only just come here. And I was so
sorry for the boy then; I asked myself why shouldn’t I buy
him a pound of... a pound of what? I’ve forgotten what it’s
called. A pound of what children are very fond of, what is
it, what is it?’ The doctor began waving his hands again. ‘It
grows on a tree and is gathered and given to everyone..’
‘Apples?’
‘Oh, no, no. You have a dozen of apples, not a pound....
No, there are a lot of them, and call little. You put them in
the mouth and crack.’
‘Quite so, nuts, I say so.’ The doctor repeated in the calm-
est way as though he had been at no loss for a word. ‘And I
bought him a pound of nuts, for no one had ever bought the
boy a pound of nuts before. And I lifted my finger and said
to him, ‘Boy, Gott der Vater.’ He laughed and said, ‘Gott

11 The Brothers Karamazov