"Whothedevilistheretoaskinthisimbecileplace? Wemustfindout, fortimeispassing," heobservedsuddenly, asthoughspeakingtohimself.
Allatoncetherecameupabald-headed, elderlymanwithingratiatinglittleeyes, wearingafull, , heintroducedhimselfwithahoneyedlispasMaximov, ' difficulty.
"FatherZossimalivesinthehermitage, apart, fourhundredpacesfromthemonastery, theothersideofthecopse."
"Iknowit'stheothersideofthecopse," observedFyodorPavlovitch, "butwedon''vebeenhere."
"Thisway, bythisgate, andstraightacrossthecopse..., won'tyou? I'...., thisway."
, amanofsixty, ranratherthanwalked, turningsidewaystostareatthemall, .
"Yousee, wehavecometotheelderuponbusinessofourown," observedMiüsovseverely."Thatpersonagehasgrantedusanaudience, sotospeak, andso, thoughwethankyouforshowingustheway, wecannotaskyoutoaccompanyus."
"I'vebeenthere.I'vebeenalready; unchevalierparfait," andMaximovsnappedhisfingersintheair.
"Whoisachevalier?" askedMiüsov.
"Theelder, thesplendidelder, theelder! Thehonorandgloryofthemonastery, !"
Buthisincoherenttalkwascutshortbyaverypale, wan-lookingmonkofmediumheight, wearingamonk'scap, whoovertookthem.FyodorPavlovitchandMiüsovstopped.
Themonk, withanextremelycourteous, profoundbow, announced:
"'clock, ," headded, addressingMaximov.
(GregtheEditorofthisbookfortherecordofinfringementofcopyrightjustincase)
