“Why, you said just now … you said … you said it was as good as in my hands—”
“Oh, no, you misunderstood me, Dmitri Fyodorovitch. In that case you misunderstood me. I was talking of the goldmines. It’s true I promised you more, infinitely more than three thousand, I remember it all now, but I was referring to the goldmines.”
“But the money? The three thousand?” Mitya exclaimed, awkwardly.
“Oh, if you meant money, I haven’t any. I haven’t a penny, Dmitri Fyodorovitch. I’m quarreling with my steward about it, and I’ve just borrowed five hundred roubles from Miüsov, myself. No, no, I’ve no money. And, do you know, Dmitri Fyodorovitch, if I had, I wouldn’t give it to you. In the first place I never lend money. Lending money means losing friends. And I wouldn’t give it to you particularly. I wouldn’t give it you, because I like you and want to save you, for all you need is the goldmines, the goldmines, the goldmines!”
“Oh, the devil!” roared Mitya, and with all his might brought his fist down on the table.
“Aie! Aie!” cried Madame Hohlakov, alarmed, and she flew to the other end of the drawing-room.
Mitya spat on the ground, and strode rapidly out of the room, out of the house, into the street, into the darkness! He