of my soul ... I love her and I cannot
help loving her. Thou seest my whole heart.... I shall gallop up, I shall
fall before her and say, 'You are right to pass on and leave me. Farewell
and forget your victim ... never fret yourself about me!' "

"Mokroe!" cried Andrey, pointing ahead with his whip.

Through the pale darkness of the night loomed a solid black mass of
buildings, flung down, as it were, in the vast plain. The village of
Mokroe numbered two thousand inhabitants, but at that hour all were
asleep, and only here and there a few lights still twinkled.

"Drive on, Andrey, I come!" Mitya exclaimed, feverishly.

"They're not asleep," said Andrey again, pointing with his whip to the
Plastunovs' inn, which was at the entrance to the village. The six
windows, looking on the street, were all brightly lighted up.

"They're not asleep," Mitya repeated joyously. "Quicker, Andrey! Gallop!
Drive up with a dash! Set the bells ringing! Let all know that I have
come. I'm coming! I'm coming, too!"

Andrey lashed his exhausted team into a gallop, drove with a dash and
pulled up his steaming, panting horses at the high flight of steps.

Mitya jumped out of the cart just as the innkeeper, on his way to bed,
peeped out from the steps curious to see who had arrived.

"Trifon Borissovitch, is that you?"

The innkeeper bent down, looked intently, ran down the steps, and rushed
up to the guest with obsequious delight.

"Dmitri Fyodorovitch, your honor! Do I see you again?"

Trifon Borissovitch was a thick-set, healthy peasant, of middle height,
with a rather fat face. His expression was severe and uncompromising,
especially with the peasants of Mokroe, but he had the power of assuming
the most obsequious countenance, when he had an inkling that it was to his
interest. He dressed in Russian style, with a shirt buttoning down on one
side, and a full-skirted coat. He had saved a good sum of money, but was
for ever dreaming of improving his position. More than half the peasants
were in his clutches, every one in the neighborhood was in debt to him.
From the neighboring landowners he bought and rented lands which were
worked by the peasants, in payment of debts which they could never shake
off. He was a widower, with four grown-up daughters. One of them was
already a widow and lived in the inn with her two children, his
grandchildren, and worked for him like a charwoman. Another of his
daughters was married to a petty officia