Book XI. I. At Grushenka’s

ages, ages, perfect ages since I’ve seen you! It’s a whole week⁠—only think of it! Ah, but you were here only four days ago, on Wednesday. You have come to see Lise. I’m sure you meant to slip into her room on tiptoe, without my hearing you. My dear, dear Alexey Fyodorovitch, if you only knew how worried I am about her! But of that later, though that’s the most important thing, of that later. Dear Alexey Fyodorovitch, I trust you implicitly with my Lise. Since the death of Father Zossima⁠—God rest his soul!” (she crossed herself)⁠—“I look upon you as a monk, though you look charming in your new suit. Where did you find such a tailor in these parts? No, no, that’s not the chief thing⁠—of that later. Forgive me for sometimes calling you Alyosha; an old woman like me may take liberties,” she smiled coquettishly; “but that will do later, too. The important thing is that I shouldn’t forget what is important. Please remind me of it yourself. As soon as my tongue runs away with me, you just say ‘the important thing?’ Ach! how do I know now what is of most importance? Ever since Lise took back her promise⁠—her childish promise, Alexey Fyodorovitch⁠—to marry you, you’ve realized, of course, that it was only the playful fancy of a sick child who had been so long confined to her chair⁠—thank God, she can walk now!⁠ ⁠… that new doctor Katya sent for from Moscow for your unhappy brother, who will tomorrow⁠—But why speak of tomorrow? I am ready to die at the very thought of tomorrow. Ready to die of curiosity.⁠ ⁠… That doctor was with us yesterday and saw Lise.⁠ ⁠… I paid him fifty roubles for the visit. But that’s not the point, that’s not the point