“He will, I see he will! Eh, Misha! Why, I was going to kiss you for the commission. … If you don’t make a mistake, there’s ten roubles for you, run along, make haste. … Champagne’s the chief thing, let them bring up champagne. And brandy, too, and red and white wine, and all I had then. … They know what I had then.”
“But listen!” Pyotr Ilyitch interrupted with some impatience. “I say, let him simply run and change the money and tell them not to close, and you go and tell them. … Give him your note. Be off, Misha! Put your best leg forward!”
Pyotr Ilyitch seemed to hurry Misha off on purpose, because the boy remained standing with his mouth and eyes wide open, apparently understanding little of Mitya’s orders, gazing up with amazement and terror at his bloodstained face and the trembling bloodstained fingers that held the notes.
“Well, now come and wash,” said Pyotr Ilyitch sternly. “Put the money on the table or else in your pocket. … That’s right,