“N—no. But if you would write three lines with your own hand, stating that you did not give Dmitri Fyodorovitch money, it might, perhaps, be of use … in case it’s needed. …”
“To be sure!” Madame Hohlakov skipped, delighted, to her bureau. “And you know I’m simply struck, amazed at your resourcefulness, your good sense in such affairs. Are you in the service here? I’m delighted to think that you’re in the service here!”
And still speaking, she scribbled on half a sheet of notepaper the following lines:
I’ve never in my life lent to that unhappy man, Dmitri Fyodorovitch Karamazov (for, in spite of all, he is unhappy), three thousand roubles today. I’ve never given him money, never: That I swear by all that’s holy!
“Here’s the note!” she turned quickly to Pyotr Ilyitch. “Go, save him. It’s a noble deed on your part!”
And she made the sign of the cross three times over him. She ran out to accompany him to the passage.
“How grateful I am to you! You can’t think how grateful I am to you for having come to me, first. How is it I haven’t met you before? I shall feel flattered at seeing you at my house in the future. How delightful it is that you are living here! … Such precision! Such practical ability! … They must appreciate you, they must understand you. If there’s anything I can do, believe me … oh, I love young people! I’m in love with young people! The younger generation are the one prop of our suffering country. Her one hope. … Oh, go, go! …”
But Pyotr Ilyitch had already run away or she would not have let him go so soon. Yet Madame Hohlakov had made a rather agreeable impression