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Fyodor Pavlovitch Karamazov Alexey Fyodorovitch Karamazov was the third son of Fyodor Pavlovitch Karamazov, a land owner well known in our district in his own day, and still remembered among us owing to his gloomy and tragic death, which happened thirteen years ago, and which I shall describe in its proper place. For the present I will only say that this “la…

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They Arrive At The Monastery

It was a warm, bright day at the end of August. The interview with the
elder had been fixed for half-past eleven, immediately after late mass.
Our visitors did not take part in the service, but arrived just as it
was over. First an elegant open carriage, drawn by two valuable horses,
drove up with Miüsov and a distant relative of his, a young man of
twenty, called Pyotr Fomitch Kalganov. This young man was preparing to
enter the university. Miüsov, with whom he was staying for the time,
was trying to persuade him to go abroad to the university of Zurich or
Jena. The young man was still undecided. He was thoughtful and
absent-minded. He was nice-looking, strongly built, and rather tall.
There was a strange fixity in his gaze at times. Like all very
absent-minded people he would sometimes stare at a person without
seeing him. He was silent and rather awkward, but sometimes, when he
was alone with any one, he became talkative and effusive, and would
laugh at anything or nothing. But his animation vanished as quickly as
it appeared. He was always well and even elaborately dressed; he had
already some independent fortune and expectations of much more. He was
a friend of Alyosha’s.

In an ancient, jolting, but roomy, hired carriage, with a pair of old
pinkish-gray horses, a long way behind Miüsov’s carriage, came Fyodor
Pavlovitch, with his son Ivan. Dmitri was late, though he had been
informed of the time the evening before. The visitors left their
carriage at the hotel, outside the precincts, and went to the gates of
the monastery on foot. Except Fyodor Pavlovitch, none of the party had
ever seen the monastery, and Miüsov had probably not even been to
church for thirty years. He looked about him with curiosity, together
with assumed ease. But,

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