SCENE I

MITYA is walking back and forth in the room.  EGORUSHKA is seated on the stool reading “Bova Korolevich.”

EGORUSHKA. [Reads] “My sovereign father, glorious and brave king, Kiribit Verzoulovich, I do not possess the courage to marry him now.  Because when I was young I was wooed by King Gvidon.”

MITYA.  Well, Egorushka, is any one at home?

EGORUSHKA. [Putting his finger on the place where he is reading in order not to make a mistake] Nobody; they’ve all gone driving.  There’s only Gordey Karpych at home. [Reads] “Whereupon Kiribit Verzoulovich said to his daughter”—­[Again marking the place]—­only he’s in such a rage, it’s awful!  I cleared out—­he keeps on cursing. [Reads] “Then the beautiful Militrisa Kirbityevna called her servant Licharda to her.”

MITYA.  With whom was he angry?

EGORUSHKA.  With my uncle, with Lyubim KARPYCH.  On the second day of the holidays Uncle Lyubim KARPYCH dined with us; at dinner he got drunk and began to play the fool; it was awfully funny.  I always get the giggles.  I couldn’t stand it, and then I burst out laughing, and they were all looking at me.  Uncle Gordey KARPYCH took it as a great insult to himself and very bad manners, and he was furious with him and turned him out.  Uncle Lyubim Karpych made a great row, and out of revenge went and stood with the beggars by the church door.  Uncle Gordey Karpych said:  “He has put me to shame,” he said, “in the eyes of the whole town.”  And now he gets angry with everybody who comes near him, no matter who they are. [Reads] “With the intention of advancing toward our town.”

MITYA. [Looking out of the window] Here they come, I think.  Yes, it’s so.  Pelageya Egorovna, Lyubov Gordeyevna, and guests with them.

EGORUSHKA. [Concealing his story in his pocket] I’ll run up-stairs.
          
                                              [Goes out.

SCENE II

MITYA alone

MITYA.  Oh, Lord, what misery!  Everybody in the streets is having a holiday, and everybody in the houses too, and you have to sit between four walls!  I am a stranger to all, no relations, no friends!—­And then besides!—­O well!  I’d better get to work; perhaps this wretchedness will pass off. [Seats himself at the desk and muses, then begins to sing.

    “Her beauty I cannot describe! 
    Dark eyebrows, with languishing eyes.”

Yes, with languishing eyes.  And yesterday when she came from mass, in her sable coat, and her little handkerchief on her head, like this—­ah!—­I really think such beauty was never seen before! [Muses, then sings.

    “Where, O where was this beauty born!”

My work all goes out of my head!  I’m always thinking of her!  My heart is tormented with sorrow.  O misery most miserable!