in fact find his father still at table. Though there was a
dining-room in the house, the table was laid as usual in the drawing-room,
which was the largest room, and furnished with old-fashioned ostentation.
The furniture was white and very old, upholstered in old, red, silky
material. In the spaces between the windows there were mirrors in
elaborate white and gilt frames, of old-fashioned carving. On the walls,
covered with white paper, which was torn in many places, there hung two
large portraits--one of some prince who had been governor of the district
thirty years before, and the other of some bishop, also long since dead.
In the corner opposite the door there were several ikons, before which a
lamp was lighted at nightfall ... not so much for devotional purposes as
to light the room. Fyodor Pavlovitch used to go to bed very late, at three
or four o'clock in the morning, and would wander about the room at night
or sit in an arm-chair, thinking. This had become a habit with him. He
often slept quite alone in the house, sending his servants to the lodge;
but usually Smerdyakov remained, sleeping on a bench in the hall.

When Alyosha came in, dinner was over, but coffee and preserves had been
served. Fyodor Pavlovitch liked sweet things with brandy after dinner.
Ivan was also at table, sipping coffee. The servants, Grigory and
Smerdyakov, were standing by. Both the gentlemen and the servants seemed
in singularly good spirits. Fyodor Pavlovitch was roaring with laughter.
Before he entered the room, Alyosha heard the shrill laugh he knew so
well, and could tell from the sound of it that his father had only reached
the good-humored stage, and was far from being completely drunk.

"Here he is! Here he is!" yelled Fyodor Pavlovitch, highly delighted at
seeing Alyosha. "Join us. Sit down. Coffee is a lenten dish, but it's hot
and good. I don't offer you brandy, you're keeping the fast. But would you
like some? No; I'd better give you some of our famous liqueur. Smerdyakov,
go to the cupboard, the second shelf on the right. Here are the keys. Look
sharp!"

Alyosha began refusing the liqueur.

"Never mind. If you won't have it, we will," said Fyodor Pavlovitch,
beaming. "But stay--have you dined?"

"Yes," answered Alyosha, who had in truth only eaten a piece of bread and
drunk a glass of kvas in the Father Superior's kitchen. "Though I should
be pleased to have some hot coffee."

"Bravo, my darling! He'll have some coffe