pass me
by, go your way, I won't hinder you!..."

And suddenly he surprised them all, and no doubt himself as well, by
flinging himself on a chair, and bursting into tears, turning his head
away to the opposite wall, while his arms clasped the back of the chair
tight, as though embracing it.

"Come, come, what a fellow you are!" cried Grushenka reproachfully.
"That's just how he comes to see me--he begins talking, and I can't make
out what he means. He cried like that once before, and now he's crying
again! It's shameful! Why are you crying? _As though you had anything to
cry for!_" she added enigmatically, emphasizing each word with some
irritability.

"I ... I'm not crying.... Well, good evening!" He instantly turned round
in his chair, and suddenly laughed, not his abrupt wooden laugh, but a
long, quivering, inaudible nervous laugh.

"Well, there you are again.... Come, cheer up, cheer up!" Grushenka said
to him persuasively. "I'm very glad you've come, very glad, Mitya, do you
hear, I'm very glad! I want him to stay here with us," she said
peremptorily, addressing the whole company, though her words were
obviously meant for the man sitting on the sofa. "I wish it, I wish it!
And if he goes away I shall go, too!" she added with flashing eyes.

"What my queen commands is law!" pronounced the Pole, gallantly kissing
Grushenka's hand. "I beg you, _panie_, to join our company," he added
politely, addressing Mitya.

Mitya was jumping up with the obvious intention of delivering another
tirade, but the words did not come.

"Let's drink, _panie_," he blurted out instead of making a speech. Every
one laughed.

"Good heavens! I thought he was going to begin again!" Grushenka exclaimed
nervously. "Do you hear, Mitya," she went on insistently, "don't prance
about, but it's nice you've brought the champagne. I want some myself, and
I can't bear liqueurs. And best of all, you've come yourself. We were
fearfully dull here.... You've come for a spree again, I suppose? But put
your money in your pocket. Where did you get such a lot?"

Mitya had been, all this time, holding in his hand the crumpled bundle of
notes on which the eyes of all, especially of the Poles, were fixed. In
confusion he thrust them hurriedly into his pocket. He flushed. At that
moment the innkeeper brought in an uncorked bottle of champagne, and
glasses on a tray. Mitya snatched up the bottle, but he was so bewildered
that he did not know what to do wi