Marianna softly wrapped the portrait in the paper again, and laid it on the table.
'He's a good man!' she murmured.. . . 'Where is he now?'
'Where?. . . At home. I am going to see him to-morrow or next day to get books and pamphlets. He meant to give them to me, but I suppose he forgot it when I was leaving.'
'And do you think, Alyosha, that in giving you the portrait he renounced everything . . . absolutely everything?'
'I thought so.'
'And you hope to find him at home?'
'Of course.'
'Ah!'—Marianna lowered her eyes and dropped her hands. 'And here's Tatyana bringing us our dinner,' she cried suddenly. 'What a splendid woman she is!'
Tatyana appeared with knives and forks, table-napkins, and plates and dishes. While she was laying the table she told them what had been passing in the factory.
'The master came from Moscow by rail, and he set to running from floor to floor like one possessed; to be sure, he knows nothing about things, he only does like that for show, to keep up appearances. But Vassily Fedotitch treats him like a babe in arms. The master thought he'd say something nasty to him, so Vassily Fedot-
112
