“Of course,” said Alyosha.
“It’s all so strange, Karamazov, such sorrow and then pancakes after it, it all seems so unnatural in our religion.”
“They are going to have salmon, too,” the boy who had discovered about Troy observed in a loud voice.
“I beg you most earnestly, Kartashov, not to interrupt again with your idiotic remarks, especially when one is not talking to you and doesn’t care to know whether you exist or not!” Kolya snapped out irritably.
The boy flushed crimson but did not dare to reply.
Meantime they were strolling slowly along the path and suddenly Smurov exclaimed:
“There’s Ilusha’s stone, under which they wanted to bury him.”
They all stood still by the big stone. Alyosha looked and the whole picture of what Snegiryov had described to him that day, how Ilusha, weeping and hugging his father, had cried, “Father, father, how he insulted you,” rose at once before his imagination.
A sudden impulse seemed to come into his soul. With a serious and earnest expression he looked from one to another of the bright, pleasant faces of Ilusha’s schoolfellows, and suddenly said to them:
“Boys, I should like to say one word to you, here at this place.”
The boys stood round him and at once bent attentive and expectant eyes upon him.
“Boys, we shall soon part. I shall be for some time with my two brothers, of whom one is going to Siberia and the other is lying at death’s door. But soon I shall leave this town, perhaps for a long time, so we shall part.