“Yes. It’s a dead secret. Even Ivan doesn’t know about the money, or anything. The old man is sending Ivan to Tchermashnya on a two or three days’ journey. A purchaser has turned up for the copse: he’ll give eight thousand for the timber. So the old man keeps asking Ivan to help him by going to arrange it. It will take him two or three days. That’s what the old man wants, so that Grushenka can come while he’s away.” “Then he’s expecting Grushenka to-day?” “No, she won’t come to-day; there are signs. She’s certain not to come,” cried Mitya suddenly. “Smerdyakov thinks so, too. Father’s drinking now. He’s sitting at table with Ivan. Go to him, Alyosha, and ask for the three thousand.” “Mitya, dear, what’s the matter with you?” cried Alyosha, jumping up from his place, and looking keenly at his brother’s frenzied face. For one moment the thought struck him that Dmitri was mad. “What is it? I’m not insane,” said Dmitri, looking intently and earnestly at him. “No fear. I am sending you to father, and I know what I’m saying. I believe in miracles.” “In miracles?” “In a miracle of Divine Providence. God knows my heart. He sees my despair. He sees the whole picture. Surely He won’t let something awful happen. Alyosha, I believe in miracles. Go!” “I am going. Tell me, will you wait for me here?” “Yes. I know it will take some time. You can’t go at him point blank. He’s drunk now. I’ll wait three hours—four, five, six, seven. Only remember you must go to Katerina Ivanovna to-day, if it has to be at midnight, _with the money or without the money_, and say, ‘He sends his compliments to you.’ I want you to say that verse to her: ‘He sends his compliments to you.’” “Mitya! And what if Grushenka comes to-day—if not to-day, to-morrow, or the next day?” “Grushenka? I shall see her. I shall rush out and prevent it.” “And if—” “If there’s an if, it will be murder. I couldn’t endure it.” “Who will be murdered?” “The old man. I shan’t kill her.” “Brother, what are you saying?” “Oh, I don’t know.... I don’t know. Perhaps I shan’t kill, and perhaps I shall. I’m afraid that he will suddenly become so loathsome to me with his face at that moment. I hate his ugly throat, his nose, his eyes, his shameless snigger. I feel a physical repulsion. That’s what I’m afraid of. That’s what may be too much for me.” “I’ll go, Mitya. I believe that God will order things for the best, that nothing awful may happen.” “And I will sit and wait for the miracle. And if it doesn’t come to pass—” Alyosha went thoughtfully towards his father’s house. Chapter VI. Smerdyakov