"He'll remember it afterwards," Mitya remarked. "Woman, I love woman!
What is woman?
The queen of creation!
My heart is sad, my heart is sad, Pyotr Ilyitch.
Do you remember Hamlet?
'I am very sorry, good Horatio! Alas, poor Yorick!'
Perhaps that's me, Yorick?
Yes, I'm Yorick now, and a skull afterwards."
Pyotr Ilyitch listened in silence. Mitya, too, was silent for a while.
"What dog's that you've got here?" he asked the shopman, casually, noticing a pretty little lap-dog with dark eyes, sitting in the corner.
"It belongs to Varvara Alexyevna, the mistress," answered the clerk. "She brought it and forgot it here.
It must be taken back to her."
"I saw one like it... in the regiment... " murmured Mitya dreamily, "only that one had its hind leg broken.... By the way, Pyotr Ilyitch, I wanted to ask you: have you ever stolen anything in your life?"
"What a question!"
"Oh, I didn't mean anything.
From somebody's pocket, you know.
I don't mean government money, everyone steals that, and no doubt you do, too..."
"You go to the devil."
"I'm talking of other people's money. Stealing straight out of a pocket?
Out of a purse, eh?" "I stole twenty copecks from my mother when I was nine years old. I took it off the table on the sly, and held it tight in my hand."
"Well, and what happened?"
"Oh, nothing.
I kept it three days, then I felt ashamed, confessed, and gave it back."
"And what then?"
"Naturally I was whipped.
But why do you ask? Have you stolen something?"
"I have," said Mitya, winking slyly.
"What have you stolen?" inquired Pyotr Ilyitch curiously.
"I stole twenty copecks from my mother when I was nine years old, and gave it back three days after." As he said this, Mitya suddenly got up.
"Dmitri Fyodorovitch, won't you come now?" called Andrey from the door of the shop.
"Are you ready?
We'll come!" Mitya started. "A few more last words and- Andrey, a glass of vodka at starting.
Give him some brandy as well!
That box" (the one with the pistols) "put under my seat.
Good-bye, Pyotr Ilyitch, don't remember evil against me."
"But you're coming back to-morrow?"
"Will you settle the little bill now?" cried the clerk, springing forward.
"Oh yes, the bill.
Of course."
He pulled the bundle of notes out of his pocket again, picked out three hundred roubles, threw them on the counter, and ran hurriedly out of the shop.
Everyone followed him out, bowing and wishing him good luck.
Andrey, coughing from the brandy he had just swallowed, jumped up on the box.
But Mitya was only just taking his seat when suddenly to his surprise he saw Fenya before him.
She ran up panting, clasped her hands before him with a cry, and plumped down at his feet.
"Dmitri Fyodorovitch, dear good Dmitri Fyodorovitch, don't harm my mistress.
And it was I told you all about it....
And don't murder him, he came first, he's hers!
He'll marry Agrafena Alexandrovna now. That's why he's come back from Siberia. Dmitri Fyodorovitch, dear, don't take a fellow creature's life!"
"Tut-tut-tut! That's it, is it?
So you're off there to make trouble!" muttered Pyotr Ilyitch. "Now, it's all clear, as clear as daylight.