11 The Brothers Karamazovsides to his guests.
Dmitri stood for a few moments in amazement. Bowing
down to him- what did it mean? Suddenly he cried aloud,
‘Oh God!’ hid his face in his hands, and rushed out of the
room. All the guests flocked out after him, in their confu-
sion not saying good-bye, or bowing to their host. Only the
monks went up to him again for a blessing.
‘What did it mean, falling at his feet like that? Was it
symbolic or what?’ said Fyodor Pavlovitch, suddenly qui-
eted and trying to reopen conversation without venturing
to address anybody in particular. They were all passing out
of the precincts of the hermitage at the moment.
‘I can’t answer for a madhouse and for madmen,’ Miusov
answered at once ill-humouredly, ‘but I will spare myself
your company, Fyodor Pavlovitch, and, trust me, for ever.
Where’s that monk?’
‘That monk,’ that is, the monk who had invited them to
dine with the Superior, did not keep them waiting. He met
them as soon as they came down the steps from the elder’s
cell, as though he had been waiting for them all the time.
‘Reverend Father, kindly do me a favour. Convey my
deepest respect to the Father Superior, apologise for me, per-
sonally, Miusov, to his reverence, telling him that I deeply
regret that owing to unforeseen circumstances I am unable
to have the honour of being present at his table, greatly I
should desire to do so,’ Miusov said irritably to the monk.
‘And that unforeseen circumstance, of course, is myself,’
Fyodor Pavlovitch cut in immediately. ‘Do you hear, Father;
this gentleman doesn’t want to remain in my company or