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night to a fashionable lady, a complete stranger, and perhaps
rousing her from her bed to ask her an amazing question,
than by going to Fyodor Pavlovitch. But that is just how it is,
sometimes, especially in cases like the present one, with the
decisions of the most precise and phlegmatic people. Pyotr
Ilyitch was by no means phlegmatic at that moment. He re-
membered all his life how a haunting uneasiness gradually
gained possession of him, growing more and more painful
and driving him on, against his will. Yet he kept cursing
himself, of course, all the way for going to this lady, but ‘I
will get to the bottom of it, I will!’ he repeated for the tenth
time, grinding his teeth, and he carried out his intention.
It was exactly eleven o’clock when he entered Madame
Hohlakov’s house. He was admitted into the yard pretty
quickly, but, in response to his inquiry whether the lady
was still up, the porter could give no answer, except that she
was usually in bed by that time.
‘Ask at the top of the stairs. If the lady wants to receive
you, she’ll receive you. If she won’t, she won’t.’
Pyotr Ilyitch went up, but did not find things so easy here.
The footman was unwilling to take in his name, but finally
called a maid. Pyotr Ilyitch politely but insistently begged
her to inform her lady that an official, living in the town,
called Perhotin, had called on particular business, and that
if it were not of the greatest importance he would not have
ventured to come. ‘Tell her in those words, in those words
exactly,’ he asked the girl.
She went away. He remained waiting in the entry. Ma-
dame Hohlakov herself was already in her bedroom, though

0 The Brothers Karamazov