ted to come and see you."

Shatov moved a bench up to the table, sat down on it and made me sit
beside him.

"I'm always glad to have a talk, though you're a funny person,
Shatushka, just like a monk. When did you comb your hair last? Let me
do it for you." And she pulled a little comb out of her pocket. "I don't
believe you've touched it since I combed it last."

"Well, I haven't got a comb," said Shatov, laughing too.

"Really? Then I'll give you mine; only remind me, not this one but
another."

With a most serious expression she set to work to comb his hair. She
even parted it on one side; drew back a little, looked to see whether it
was right and put the comb back in her pocket.

"Do you know what, Shatushka?" She shook her head. "You may be a very
sensible man but you're dull. It's strange for me to look at all of you.
I don't understand how it is people are dull. Sadness is not dullness.
I'm happy."

"And are you happy when your brother's here?"

"You mean Lebyadkin? He's my footman. And I don't care whether he's
here or not. I call to him: 'Lebyadkin, bring the water!' or 'Lebyadkin,
bring my shoes!' and he runs. Sometimes one does wrong and can't help
laughing at him.

"That's just how it is," said Shatov, addressing me aloud without
ceremony. "She treats him just like a footman. I've heard her myself
calling to him, 'Lebyadkin, give me some water!' And she laughed as
she said it. The only difference is that he doesn't fetch the water but
beats her for it; but she isn't a bit afraid of him. She has some sort
of nervous fits, almost every day, and they are destroying her memory
so that afterwards she forgets everything that's just happened, and is
always in a muddle over time. You imagine she remembers how you came in;
perhaps she does remember, but no doubt she has changed everything to
please herself, and she takes us now for different people from what we
are, though she knows I'm 'Shatushka.' It doesn't matter my speaking
aloud, she soon leaves off listening to people who talk to her, and
plunges into dreams. Yes, plunges. She's an extraordinary person for
dreaming; she'll sit for eight hours, for whole days together in the
same place. You see there's a roll lying there, perhaps she's only taken
one bite at it since the morning, and she'll finish it to-morrow. Now
she's begun trying her fortune on cards...."

"I keep trying my fortune, Shatushka, but it doesn't come out right,"
Marya Timofyevna pu