Page 864 - the-brothers-karamazov

and greatly disliked the task that had been laid upon him.
‘Good-bye, Trifon Borissovitch!’ Mitya shouted again,
and felt himself, that he had not called out this time from
good-nature, but involuntarily, from resentment.
But Trifon Borissovitch stood proudly, with both hands
behind his back, and staring straight at Mitya with a stern
and angry face, he made no reply.
‘Good-bye, Dmitri Fyodorovitch, good-bye!’ he heard all
at once the voice of Kalganov, who had suddenly darted out.
Running up to the cart he held out his hand to Mitya. He
had no cap on.
Mitya had time to seize and press his hand.
‘Good-bye, dear fellow! I shan’t forget your generosity,’
he cried warmly.
But the cart moved and their hands parted. The bell be-
gan ringing and Mitya was driven off.
Kalganov ran back, sat down in a corner, bent his head,
hid his face in his hands, and burst out crying. For a long
while he sat like that, crying as though he were a little boy
instead of a young man of twenty. Oh, he believed almost
without doubt in Mitya’s guilt.
‘What are these people? What can men be after this?’ he
exclaimed incoherently, in bitter despondency, almost de-
spair. At that moment he had no desire to live.
‘Is it worth it? Is it worth it?’ exclaimed the boy in his
grief.