An Unseemly Encounter
THEY ARRIVE AT THE MONASTERY
THE day turned out to be wonderfully warm and bright. It was the end of August. The meeting with the starets had been arranged for just after the late morning service, at about half past eleven. Our visitors, however, did not arrive for the service, but shortly after it had ended. They drove up in two separate carriages; Pyotr Aleksandrovich Miusov with a distant relative of his, Pyotr Fomich Kalganov, a young man of about twenty, arrived in the first, an elegant calash drawn by a fine pair of horses. This young man was planning to go to university; Miusov, however, with whom he was staying for some reason at the time, was trying to persuade him to accompany him on a visit abroad, to Zurich or Jena, and to study at a university there. The young man was still undecided. He was of a reflective disposition and somewhat absent-minded. He had a pleasant face, was well built and rather tall. His gaze was apt to lapse into a strange immobility; like all absent-minded people, he would sometimes stare at you long and hard without seeing you at all. He was taciturn and a little clumsy, though there were times--but only if he was alone with someone--when he would become extremely talkative, excitable, and jocular, sometimes laughing at God only knows what. But his elation would dry up as quickly and suddenly as it had erupted. He was always well, even exquisitely, dressed; he already enjoyed a certain private income and was expecting a far greater one. He was a friend of Alyosha's.
Fyodor Pavlovich and his son Ivan Fyodorovich rolled up in an ancient, rickety, but large hackney cab drawn by a pair of old reddish-grey horses, trailing a long way behind Miusov's calash. Dmitry Fyodorovich, although he had been informed of the time