"You won't have time, dear boy, come and have a drink.March!"Plotnikov's shop was at the corner of the street, next door but one to Pyotr Ilyitch's.It was the largest grocery shop in our town, and by no means a bad one, belonging to some rich merchants.They kept everything that could be got in a Petersburg shop, grocery of all sort, wines "bottled by the brothers Eliseyev," fruits, cigars, tea, coffee, sugar, and so on.There were three shop-assistants and two errand boys always employed.Though our part of the country had grown poorer, the landowners had gone away, and trade had got worse, yet the grocery stores flourished as before, every year with increasing prosperity; there were plenty of purchasers for their goods.
They were awaiting Mitya with impatience in the shop.They had vivid recollections of how he had bought, three or four weeks ago, wine and goods of all sorts to the value of several hundred roubles, paid for in cash (they would never have let him have anything on credit, of course).They remembered that then, as now, he had had a bundle of hundred-rouble notes in his hand, and had scattered them at random, without bargaining, without reflecting, or caring to reflect what use so much wine and provisions would be to him.The story was told all over the town that, driving off then with Grushenka to Mokroe, he had "spent three thousand in one night and the following day, and had come back from the spree without a penny." He had picked up a whole troop of gypsies (encamped in our neighbourhood at the time), who for two days got money without stint out of him while he was drunk, and drank expensive wine without stint.People used to tell, laughing at Mitya, how he had given champagne to grimy-handed peasants, and feasted the village women and girls on sweets and Strasburg pies.Though to laugh at Mitya to his face was rather a risky proceeding, there was much laughter behind his back, especially in the tavern, at his own ingenuous public avowal that all he had got out of Grushenka by this "escapade" was "permission to kiss her foot, and that was the utmost she had allowed him."By the time Mitya and Pyotr Ilyitch reached the shop, they found a cart with three horses harnessed abreast with bells, and with Andrey, the driver, ready waiting for Mitya at the entrance.In the shop they had almost entirely finished packing one box of provisions, and were only waiting for Mitya's arrival to nail it down and put it in the cart.Pyotr Ilyitch was astounded.
"Where did this cart come from in such a hurry?" he asked Mitya.
"I met Andrey as I ran to you, and told him to drive straight here to the shop.There's no time to lose.Last time I drove with Timofey, but Timofey now has gone on before me with the witch.Shall we be very late, Andrey?""They'll only get there an hour at most before us, not even that maybe.I got Timofey ready to start.I know how he'll go.Their pace won't be ours, Dmitri Fyodorovitch.How could it be? They won't get there an hour earlier!" Andrey, a lanky, red-haired, middle-aged driver, wearing a full-skirted coat, and with a kaftan on his arm, replied warmly.
"Fifty roubles for vodka if we're only an hour behind them.""I warrant the time, Dmitri Fyodorovitch.Ech, they won't be half an hour before us, let alone an hour."Though Mitya bustled about seeing after things, he gave his orders strangely, as it were, disconnectedly, and inconsecutively.He began a sentence and forgot the end of it.Pyotr Ilyitch found himself obliged to come to the rescue.
"Four hundred roubles' worth, not less than four hundred roubles' worth, just as it was then," commanded Mitya."Four dozen champagne, not a bottle less.""What do you want with so much? What's it for? Stay!" cried Pyotr Ilyitch."What's this box? What's in it? Surely there isn't four hundred roubles' worth here?"The officious shopmen began explaining with oily politeness that the first box contained only half a dozen bottles of champagne, and only "the most indispensable articles," such as savouries, sweets, toffee, etc.But the main part of the goods ordered would be packed and sent off, as on the previous occasion, in a special cart also with three horses travelling at full speed, so that it would arrive not more than an hour later than Dmitri Fyodorovitch himself.
"Not more than an hour! Not more than an hour! And put in more toffee and fondants.The girls there are so fond of it," Mitya insisted hotly.
"The fondants are all right.But what do you want with four dozen of champagne? One would be enough," said Pyotr Ilyitch, almost angry.He began bargaining, asking for a bill of the goods, and refused to be satisfied.But he only succeeded in saving a hundred roubles.In the end it was agreed that only three hundred roubles'
worth should be sent.
"Well, you may go to the devil!" cried Pyotr Ilyitch, on second thoughts."What's it to do with me? Throw away your money, since it's cost you nothing.""This way, my economist, this way, don't be angry." Mitya drew him into a room at the back of the shop."They'll give us a bottle here directly.We'll taste it.Ech, Pyotr Ilyitch, come along with me, for you're a nice fellow, the sort I like."Mitya sat down on a wicker chair, before a little table, covered with a dirty dinner-napkin.Pyotr Ilyitch sat down opposite, and the champagne soon appeared, and oysters were suggested to the gentlemen."First-class oysters, the last lot in.""Hang the oysters.I don't eat them.And we don't need anything," cried Pyotr Ilyitch, almost angrily.
