0 The Brothers Karamazovland. Be quiet, my pretty boy, eat a sweetmeat.’
‘Ach, what fellows! As though they were not men. Why
won’t they make friends?’ said Grushenka, and went for-
ward to dance. The chorus broke into ‘Ah, my porch, my
new porch!’ Grushenka flung back her head, half opened
her lips, smiled, waved her handkerchief, and suddenly,
with a violent lurch, stood still in the middle of the room,
looking bewildered.
‘I’m weak...’ she said in an exhausted voice. ‘Forgive me....
I’m weak, I can’t.... I’m sorry.’
She bowed to the chorus, and then began bowing in all
directions.
‘I’m sorry.... Forgive me..’
‘The lady’s been drinking. The pretty lady has been drink-
ing,’ voices were heard saying.
‘The lady’s drunk too much,’ Maximov explained to the
girls, giggling.
‘Mitya, lead me away... take me,’ said Grushenka help-
lessly. Mitya pounced on her, snatched her up in his arms,
and carried the precious burden through the curtains.
‘Well, now I’ll go,’ thought Kalganov, and walking out
of the blue room, he closed the two halves of the door af-
ter him. But the orgy in the larger room went on and grew
louder and louder. Mitya laid Grushenka on the bed and
kissed her on the lips.
‘Don’t touch me...’ she faltered, in an imploring voice.
‘Don’t touch me, till I’m yours.... I’ve told you I’m yours, but
don’t touch me... spare me.... With them here, with them
close, you mustn’t. He’s here. It’s nasty here..’