s,
Vrublevsky, with a confused and infuriated face, shook his fist at
Grushenka, shouting:

"You low harlot!"

Mitya flew at him at once, clutched him in both hands, lifted him in the
air, and in one instant had carried him into the room on the right, from
which they had just come.

"I've laid him on the floor, there," he announced, returning at once,
gasping with excitement. "He's struggling, the scoundrel! But he won't
come back, no fear of that!..."

He closed one half of the folding doors, and holding the other ajar called
out to the little Pole:

"Most illustrious, will you be pleased to retire as well?"

"My dear Dmitri Fyodorovitch," said Trifon Borissovitch, "make them give
you back the money you lost. It's as good as stolen from you."

"I don't want my fifty roubles back," Kalganov declared suddenly.

"I don't want my two hundred, either," cried Mitya, "I wouldn't take it
for anything! Let him keep it as a consolation."

"Bravo, Mitya! You're a trump, Mitya!" cried Grushenka, and there was a
note of fierce anger in the exclamation.

The little _pan_, crimson with fury but still mindful of his dignity, was
making for the door, but he stopped short and said suddenly, addressing
Grushenka:

"_Pani_, if you want to come with me, come. If not, good-by."

And swelling with indignation and importance he went to the door. This was
a man of character: he had so good an opinion of himself that after all
that had passed, he still expected that she would marry him. Mitya slammed
the door after him.

"Lock it," said Kalganov. But the key clicked on the other side, they had
locked it from within.

"That's capital!" exclaimed Grushenka relentlessly. "Serve them right!"

Chapter VIII. Delirium

What followed was almost an orgy, a feast to which all were welcome.
Grushenka was the first to call for wine.

"I want to drink. I want to be quite drunk, as we were before. Do you
remember, Mitya, do you remember how we made friends here last time!"

Mitya himself was almost delirious, feeling that his happiness was at
hand. But Grushenka was continually sending him away from her.

"Go and enjoy yourself. Tell them to dance, to make merry, 'let the stove
and cottage dance'; as we had it last time," she kept exclaiming. She was
tremendously excited. And Mitya hastened to obey her. The chorus were in
the next room. The room in which they had been sitting till that moment
was too small, and was divided in tw