Alyosha did not hear and looked with horror at Byelyaev. “It’s impossible,” said the mother. “I’ll go and ask Pelagueia.” Olga Ivanovna went out. “But, but you gave me your word of honour,” Alyosha said trembling all over. Byelyaev waved his hand at him and went on walking up and down. He was absorbed in his insult, and now, as before, he did not notice the presence of the boy. He, a big serious man, had nothing to do with boys. And Alyosha sat down in a corner and in terror told Sonya how he had been deceived. He trembled, stammered, wept. This was the first time in his life that he had been set, roughly, face to face with a lie. He had never known before that in this world besides sweet pears and cakes and expensive watches, there exist many other things which have no name in children’s language. A GENTLEMAN FRIEND When she came out of the hospital the charming Vanda, or, according to her passport, “the honourable lady-citizen Nastasya Kanavkina,” found herself in a position in which she had never been before: without a roof and without a son. What was to be done? First of all, she went to a pawnshop to pledge her turquoise ring, her only jewellery. They gave her a rouble for the ring ... but what can you buy for a rouble? For that you can’t get a short jacket _à la mode_, or an elaborate hat, or a pair of brown shoes; yet without these things she felt naked. She felt as though, not only the people, but even the horses and dogs were staring at her and laughing at the plainness of her clothes. And her only thought was for her clothes; she did not care at all what she ate or where she slept. “If only I were to meet a gentleman friend....” she thought. “I could get some money ... Nobody would say ‘No,’ because....” But she came across no gentleman friends. It’s easy to find them of nights in the _Renaissance,_ but they wouldn’t let her go into the _Renaissance_ in that plain dress and without a hat. What’s to be done? After a long time of anguish, vexed and weary with walking, sitting, and thinking, Vanda made up her mind to play her last card: to go straight to the rooms of some gentleman friend and ask him for money. “But who shall I go to?” she pondered. “I can’t possibly go to Misha ... he’s got a family.... The ginger-headed old man is at his office....” Vanda recollected Finkel, the dentist, the converted Jew, who gave her a bracelet three months ago. Once she poured a glass of beer on his head at the German club. She was awfully glad that she had thought of Finkel. “He’ll be certain to give me some, if only I find him in...” she thought, on her way to him. “And if he won’t, then I’ll break every single thing there.”