Fyodor Dostoevsky

“ Tell them I'm going to dance. Let them look on, too..."
Mitya walked with a drunken swagger to the locked door, and began knocking to the Poles with his fist.
"Hi, you... Podvysotskis! Come, she's going to dance. She calls you."
"Lajdak!" one of the Poles shouted in reply.
"You're a lajdak yourself! You're a little scoundrel, that's what you are."
"Leave off laughing at Poland," said Kalganov sententiously. He too was drunk.
"Be quiet, boy! If I call him a scoundrel, it doesn't mean that I called all Poland so. One lajdak doesn't make a Poland. Be quiet, my pretty boy, eat a sweetmeat." ”

“ The terrible phantom had turned into something so small, so comic; it had been carried into the bedroom and locked in. It would never return. She was ashamed, and from her eyes he could see now whom she loved. Now he had everything to make life happy... but he could not go on living, he could not; oh, damnation! "O God! restore to life the man I knocked down at the fence! Let this fearful cup pass from me! Lord, thou hast wrought miracles for such sinners as me! But what, what if the old man's alive? ”

“ Let them!" said Grushenka sententiously, with an ecstatic expression on her face. "When they do get a day to enjoy themselves; why shouldn't folks be happy?"
Kalgonov looked as though he had been besmirched with dirt.
"It's swinish, all this peasant foolery," he murmured, moving away; "it's the game they play when it's light all night in summer."
He particularly disliked one "new" song to a jaunty dance-tune. It described how a gentleman came and tried his luck with the girls, to
see whether they would love him:
The master came to try the girls:
Would they love him, would they not
? ”

“ Mitya passed to the other side of the curtain and stood stock still. The room was filled with people, but not those who had been there before. An instantaneous shiver ran down his back, and he shuddered. He recognised all those people instantly. That tall, stout old man in the overcoat and forage-cap with a cockade- was the police captain, Mihail Makarovitch. And that "consumptive-looking" trim dandy,"who always has such polished boots"- that was the deputy prosecutor. ”

“ The pretty lady has been drinking," voices were heard saying.
"The lady's drunk too much," Maximov explained to the girls, giggling.
"Mitya, lead me away... take me," said Grushenka helplessly. Mitya pounced on her, snatched her up in his arms, and carried the precious burden through the curtains.
"Well, now I'll go," thought Kalganov, and walking out of the blue room, he closed the two halves of the door after him. But the orgy in the larger room went on and grew louder and louder. Mitya laid Grushenka on the bed and kissed her on the lips. ”

“ And those other two... peasants.... And there at the door Kalganov with Trifon Borissovitch....
"Gentlemen! What's this for, gentlemen?" began Mitya, but suddenly, as though beside himself, not knowing what he was doing, he cried aloud, at the top of his voice:
"I un-der-stand!"
The young man in spectacles moved forward suddenly, and stepping up to Mitya, began with dignity, though hurriedly:
"We have to make... in brief, I beg you to come this way, this way to the sofa.... It is absolutely imperative that you should give an explanation."
"The old man!" cried Mitya frantically. ”

“ Mitya had chocolate made for all the girls, and ordered that three samovars should be kept boiling all night to provide tea and punch for everyone to help himself.
An absurd chaotic confusion followed, but Mitya was in his natural element, and the more foolish it became, the more his spirits rose. If the peasants had asked him for money at that moment, he would have pulled out his notes and given them away right and left. This was probably why the landlord, Trifon Borissovitch, kept hovering about Mitya to protect him. ”

“ Kalgonov instantly opened his eyes, looked at her, stood up, and with the most anxious air inquired where was Maximov?
"So that's who it is you want." Grushenka laughed. "Stay with me a minute. Mitya, run and find his Maximov."
Maximov, it appeared, could not tear himself away from the girls, only running away from time to time to pour himself out a glass of liqueur. He had drunk two cups of chocolate. His face was red, and his nose was crimson; his eyes were moist, and mawkishly sweet.He ran up and announced that he was going to dance the "sabotiere." ”