I looked at him in perplexity and distress. Natasha’s eyes besought me to be kind and not to judge him harshly. She listened to his talk with a sort of mournful smile, and at the same time she seemed to be admiring him as one admires a charming, merry child, listening to its sweet but senseless prattle, I looked at her reproachfully. I was unbearably miserable.
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“What is it? What is it, child?” he cried. “You’re begging, eh? Here, here’s something for you . . . take it!”
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Alyosha put his arm round her and held her close to him without speaking. Several minutes of silence followed.
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