“Good Lord, you’ve nearly killed me! Why don’t you look where you’re going, scapegrace?”
“Why, it’s you!” cried Mitya, recognizing the old woman in the dark. It was the old servant who waited on Samsonov, whom Mitya had particularly noticed the day before.
“And who are you, my good sir?” said the old woman, in quite a different voice. “I don’t know you in the dark.”
“You live at Kuzma Kuzmitch’s. You’re the servant there?”
“Just so, sir, I was only running out to Prohoritch’s. … But I don’t know you now.”
“Tell me, my good woman, is Agrafena Alexandrovna there now?” said Mitya, beside himself with suspense. “I saw her to the house some time ago.”
“She has been there, sir. She stayed a little while, and went off again.”
“What? Went away?” cried Mitya. “When did she go?”
“Why, as soon as she came. She only stayed a minute. She only told Kuzma Kuzmitch a tale that made him laugh, and then she ran away.”