On the contrary, he once gave Grushenka a stern and earnest piece of advice.
"If you have to choose between the two, father or son, you'd better choose the old man, if only you make sure the old scoundrel will marry you and settle some fortune on you beforehand.
But don't keep on with the captain, you'll get no good out of that."
These were the very words of the old profligate, who felt already that his death was not far off and who actually died five months later.
I will note too, in passing- that although many in our town knew of the grotesque and monstrous rivalry of the Karamazovs, father and son, the object of which was Grushenka, scarcely anyone understood what really underlay her attitude to both of them.
Even Grushenka's two servants (after the catastrophe of which we will speak later) testified in court that she received Dmitri Fyodorovitch simply from fear because "he threatened to murder her."
These servants were an old cook, invalidish and almost deaf, who came from Grushenka's old home, and her granddaughter, a smart young girl of twenty, who performed the duties of a maid.
Grushenka lived very economically and her surroundings were anything but luxurious.
Her lodge consisted of three rooms furnished with mahogany furniture in the fashion of 1820, belonging to her landlady.
It was quite dark when Rakitin and Alyosha entered her rooms, yet they were not lighted up.
Grushenka was lying down in her drawing-room on the big, hard, clumsy sofa, with a mahogany back. The sofa was covered with shabby and ragged leather.
Under her head she had two white down pillows taken from her bed.
She was lying stretched out motionless on her back with her hands behind her head.
She was dressed as though expecting someone, in a black silk dress, with a dainty lace fichu on her head, which was very becoming. Over her shoulders was thrown a lace shawl pinned with a massive gold brooch.
She certainly was expecting someone. She lay as though impatient and weary, her face rather pale and her lips and eyes hot, restlessly tapping the arm of the sofa with the tip of her right foot.
The appearance of Rakitin and Alyosha caused a slight excitement. From the hall they could hear Grushenka leap up from the sofa and cry out in a frightened voice,
"Who's there?"
But the maid met the visitors and at once called back to her mistress.
"It's not he, it's nothing, only other visitors."
"What can be the matter?" muttered Rakitin, leading Alyosha into the drawing-room.
Grushenka was standing by the sofa as though still alarmed.
A thick coil of her dark brown hair escaped from its lace covering and fell on her right shoulder, but she did not notice it and did not put it back till she had gazed at her visitors and recognised them.
"Ah, it's you, Rakitin?
You quite frightened me.
Whom have you brought?
Who is this with you?
Good heavens, you have brought him!" she exclaimed, recognising Alyosha.
"Do send for candles!" said Rakitin, with the free-and-easy air of a most intimate friend, who is privileged to give orders in the house.
"Candles... of course, candles.... Fenya, fetch him a candle.... Well, you have chosen a moment to bring him! she exclaimed again, nodding towards Alyosha, and turning to the looking-glass she began quickly fastening up her hair with both hands.
She seemed displeased.
"Haven't I managed to please you?" asked Rakitin, instantly almost offended.
You frightened me, Rakitin, that's what it is." Grushenka turned with a smile to Alyosha. "Don't be afraid of me, my dear Alyosha, you cannot think how glad I am to see you, my unexpected visitor.
But you frightened me, Rakitin, I thought it was Mitya breaking in.
You see, I deceived him just now, I made him promise to believe me and I told him a lie.
I told him that I was going to spend the evening with my old man, Kuzma Kuzmitch, and should be there till late counting up his money.
I always spend one whole evening a week with him making up his accounts.
We lock ourselves in and he counts on the reckoning beads while I sit and put things down in the book. I am the only person he trusts.
Mitya believes that I am there, but I came back and have been sitting locked in here, expecting some news.
How was it Fenya let you in?
Fenya, Fenya, run out to the gate, open it and look about whether the captain is to be seen!
Perhaps he is hiding and spying, I am dreadfully frightened."
There's no one there, Agrafena Alexandrovna, I've just looked out; I keep running to peep through the crack; I am in fear and trembling myself."
"Are the shutters fastened, Fenya? And we must draw the curtains- that's better!" She drew the heavy curtains herself. "He'd rush in at once if he saw a light.
I am afraid of your brother Mitya to-day, Alyosha." Grushenka spoke aloud, and, though she was alarmed, she seemed very happy about something.
"Why are you so afraid of Mitya to-day?" inquired Rakitin. "I should have thought you were not timid with him, you'd twist him round your little finger."
"I tell you, I am expecting news, priceless news, so I don't want Mitya at all.
And he didn't believe, I feel he didn't, that I should stay at Kuzma Kuzmitch's.
He must be in his ambush now, behind Fyodor Pavlovitch's, in the garden, watching for me.
And if he's there, he won't come here, so much the better!
But I really have been to Kuzma Kuzmitch's, Mitya escorted me there. I told him I should stay there till midnight, and I asked him to be sure to come at midnight to fetch me home.