“What for?⁠ ⁠… Thank you, sonny! Just see what a simple lad it is!” said the old woman, addressing Doútlof, who had come up to their cart.

Alyósha was quite quiet, quite stupefied, and looked as if he were falling asleep. He drooped his head lower and lower.

“It’s for you I am going, for you I am perishing⁠ ⁠…” he muttered; “that’s why I am giving you presents.”

“I dare say he, too, has a mother,” said someone in the crowd. “What a simple fellow! It’s awful!”

Alyósha lifted his head. “I have a mother,” said he; “I have a father. All have given me up.⁠ ⁠… Listen to me, you old one,” he went on, taking the old woman’s hand. “I have offered you gifts.⁠ ⁠… Listen to me for Christ’s sake! Go to the village of Vódnoye, ask for the old woman Níkonovna⁠—the same is my own mother, see? Say to this same old woman, this Níkonovna, the third hut from the end, by a new well⁠ ⁠… Tell her that Alyósha⁠—your son, you see.⁠ ⁠… Eh! you musician! strike up!” he shouted.