“My own friends, what could I present you with?” exclaimed Alyósha, embracing the old woman.

A woman selling eatables was standing among the crowd. Alyósha noticed her, seized her tray, and poured its contents into the cart.

“I’ll pay, no fear, you devil!” he howled tearfully, pulling a purse from his pocket and throwing it to Míshka. He stood leaning with his elbows on the cart, and looking with moist eyes at those who sat inside.

“Which is the mother⁠ ⁠… you?” he asked. “I’ll make an offering to you too.”

He stood thinking for a moment, then he put his hand in his pocket and drew out a new folded handkerchief, hurriedly took off a towel which was tied round his waist under his coat, and also a red scarf he was wearing round his neck; and, crumpling them all together, shoved them into the old woman’s lap.

“There! I’m sacrificing them to you,” he said in a voice that was growing softer and softer.