“I’m not talking about thousands. Damn thousands! I’m talking of the female character.
Fickle is the heart of woman Treacherous and full of vice;
I agree with Ulysses. That’s what he says.”
“I don’t understand you!”
“Am I drunk?”
“Not drunk, but worse.”
“I’m drunk in spirit, Pyotr Ilyitch, drunk in spirit! But that’s enough!”
“What are you doing, loading the pistol?”
“I’m loading the pistol.”
Unfastening the pistol-case, Mitya actually opened the powder horn, and carefully sprinkled and rammed in the charge. Then he took the bullet and, before inserting it, held it in two fingers in front of the candle.
“Why are you looking at the bullet?” asked Pyotr Ilyitch, watching him with uneasy curiosity.
“Oh, a fancy. Why, if you meant to put that bullet in your brain, would you look at it or not?”
“Why look at