The Brothers Karamazovlooked tired and weak. His forehead, upon which huge pur-
ple bruises had come out during the night, was bandaged
with a red handkerchief; his nose too was swollen terribly
in the night, and some smaller bruises covered it in patches,
giving his whole face a peculiarly spiteful and irritable look.
The old man was aware of this, and turned a hostile glance
on Alyosha as he came in.
‘The coffee is cold,’ he cried harshly; ‘I won’t offer you
any. I’ve ordered nothing but a Lenten fish soup to-day, and
I don’t invite anyone to share it. Why have you come?’
‘To find out how you are,’ said Alyosha.
‘Yes. Besides, I told you to come yesterday. It’s all of no
consequence. You need not have troubled. But I knew you’d
come poking in directly.’
He said this with almost hostile feeling. At the same
time he got up and looked anxiously in the looking-glass
(perhaps for the fortieth time that morning) at his nose. He
began, too, binding his red handkerchief more becomingly
on his forehead.
‘Red’s better. It’s just like the hospital in a white one,’ he
observed sententiously. ‘Well, how are things over there?
How is your elder?’
‘He is very bad; he may die to-day,’ answered Alyosha.
But his father had not listened, and had forgotten his own
question at once.
‘Ivan’s gone out,’ he said suddenly. ‘He is doing his utmost
to carry off Mitya’s betrothed. That’s what he is staying here
for,’ he added maliciously, and, twisting his mouth, looked
at Alyosha.