“Most illustrious, two words with you.”
“What do you want?”
“In the next room, I’ve two words to say to you, something pleasant, very pleasant. You’ll be glad to hear it.”
The little pan was taken aback and looked apprehensively at Mitya. He agreed at once, however, on condition that Pan Vrublevsky went with them.
“The bodyguard? Let him come, and I want him, too. I must have him!” cried Mitya. “March, panovie!”
“Where are you going?” asked Grushenka, anxiously.
“We’ll be back in one moment,” answered Mitya.
There was a sort of boldness, a sudden confidence shining in his eyes. His face had looked very different when he entered the room an hour before.
He led the Poles, not into the large room where the chorus of girls was assembling and the table was being laid, but into the bedroom on the right, where the trunks and packages were kept, and there were two large beds, with pyramids of cotton pillows on each. There was a lighted candle on a small deal table in the corner. The small man and Mitya sat down to this table, facing each other, while the huge Vrublevsky stood beside them, his hands behind his back. The Poles looked severe but were evidently inquisitive.
“What can I do for you, panie?” lisped the little Pole.