go?”
“Oh, I can’t spare the time. You must excuse me.”
“Come, you might oblige your father. I shan’t forget it. You’ve no heart, any of you—that’s what it is?
What’s a day or two to you? Where are you going now—to Venice? Your Venice will keep another two days. I would have sent Alyosha, but what use is Alyosha in a thing like that? I send you just because you are a clever fellow. Do you suppose I don’t see that? You know nothing about timber, but you’ve got an eye. All that is wanted is to see whether the man is in earnest. I tell you, watch his beard—if his beard shakes you know he is in earnest.”
“You force me to go to that damned Tchermashnya yourself, then?” cried Ivan, with a malignant smile.
Fyodor Pavlovitch did not catch, or would not catch, the malignancy, but he caught the smile.
“Then you’ll go, you’ll go? I’ll scribble the note for you