you can give it back later. … (You’ll get rich, you’ll get rich!) And you know you couldn’t have a better idea than to move to another province! It would be the saving of you, especially of your boy—and you ought to go quickly, before the winter, before the cold. You must write to us when you are there, and we will always be brothers. … No, it’s not a dream!”
Alyosha could have hugged him, he was so pleased. But glancing at him he stopped short.
The man was standing with his neck outstretched and his lips protruding, with a pale and frenzied face. His lips were moving as though trying to articulate something; no sound came, but still his lips moved. It was uncanny.
“What is it?” asked Alyosha, startled.
“Alexey Fyodorovitch … I … you,” muttered the captain, faltering, looking at him with a strange, wild, fixed