It had begun to get dusk when Rakitin, crossing the pine copse from the hermitage to the monastery, suddenly noticed Alyosha, lying face downwards on the ground under a tree, not moving and apparently asleep. He went up and called him by his name.
“You here, Alexey? Can you have—” he began wondering but broke off. He had meant to say, “Can you have come to this?”
Alyosha did not look at him, but from a slight movement Rakitin at once saw that he heard and understood him.
“What’s the matter?” he went on; but the surprise in his face gradually passed into a smile that became more and more ironical.
“I say, I’ve been looking for you for the last two hours. You suddenly disappeared. What are you about? What foolery is this? You might just look at me …”
Alyosha raised his head, sat up and leaned his back against the tree. He was not crying, but there was a look of suffering and irritability in his face. He did not look at Rakitin, however, but looked away to one side of him.
“Do you know your face is quite changed? There’s none of your famous mildness to be seen in it. Are you angry with someone? Have they been ill-treating you?”
“Let me alone,” said Alyosha suddenly, with a weary gesture of his hand, still looking away from him.
“Oho! So that’s how we are feeling! So you can shout at people like other mortals. That is a comedown from the angels. I say, Alyosha, you have surprised me, do you hear? I mean it. It’s long since I’ve been surprised at anything here. I always took you for an educated man. …”