familiarity and carelessness had completely disappeared. His face expressed attention and expectation, intent but timid and cringing.
“Haven’t you something more to say—something to add?” could be read in the intent gaze he fixed on Ivan.
“And couldn’t I be sent for from Tchermashnya, too—in case anything happened?” Ivan shouted suddenly, for some unknown reason raising his voice.
“From Tchermashnya, too … you could be sent for,” Smerdyakov muttered, almost in a whisper, looking disconcerted, but gazing intently into Ivan’s eyes.
“Only Moscow is farther and Tchermashnya is nearer. Is it to save my spending money on the fare, or to save my going so far out of my way, that you insist on Tchermashnya?”
“Precisely so …” muttered Smerdyakov, with a breaking voice. He looked at Ivan with a revolting smile, and again made ready to draw back. But to his astonishment Ivan broke into a laugh, and went through the gate still laughing. Anyone who had seen his face at that moment