The old widower Samsonov, a man of large fortune, was stingy and merciless.He tyrannised over his grown-up sons, but, for the last year during which he had been ill and lost the use of his swollen legs, he had fallen greatly under the influence of his protegee, whom he had at first kept strictly and in humble surroundings, "on Lenten fare," as the wits said at the time.But Grushenka had succeeded in emancipating herself, while she established in him a boundless belief in her fidelity.The old man, now long since dead, had had a large business in his day and was also a noteworthy character, miserly and hard as flint.Though Grushenka's hold upon him was so strong that he could not live without her (it had been so especially for the last two years), he did not settle any considerable fortune on her and would not have been moved to do so, if she had threatened to leave him.But he had presented her with a small sum, and even that was a surprise to everyone when it became known.
"You are a wench with brains," he said to her, when he gave her eight thousand roubles, "and you must look after yourself, but let me tell you that except your yearly allowance as before, you'll get nothing more from me to the day of my death, and I'll leave you nothing in my will either."And he kept his word; he died and left everything to his sons, whom, with their wives and children, he had treated all his life as servants.Grushenka was not even mentioned in his will.All this became known afterwards.He helped Grushenka with his advice to increase her capital and put business in her way.
When Fyodor Pavlovitch, who first came into contact with Grushenka over a piece of speculation, ended to his own surprise by falling madly in love with her, old Samsonov, gravely ill as he was, was immensely amused.It is remarkable that throughout their whole acquaintance Grushenka was absolutely and spontaneously open with the old man, and he seems to have been the only person in the world with whom she was so.Of late, when Dmitri too had come on the scene with his love, the old man left off laughing.On the contrary, he once gave Grushenka a stern and earnest piece of advice.
"If you have to choose between the two, father or son, you'd better choose the old man, if only you make sure the old scoundrel will marry you and settle some fortune on you beforehand.But don't keep on with the captain, you'll get no good out of that."These were the very words of the old profligate, who felt already that his death was not far off and who actually died five months later.
I will note too, in passing- that although many in our town knew of the grotesque and monstrous rivalry of the Karamazovs, father and son, the object of which was Grushenka, scarcely anyone understood what really underlay her attitude to both of them.Even Grushenka's two servants (after the catastrophe of which we will speak later)testified in court that she received Dmitri Fyodorovitch simply from fear because "he threatened to murder her." These servants were an old cook, invalidish and almost deaf, who came from Grushenka's old home, and her granddaughter, a smart young girl of twenty, who performed the duties of a maid.Grushenka lived very economically and her surroundings were anything but luxurious.Her lodge consisted of three rooms furnished with mahogany furniture in the fashion of 1820, belonging to her landlady.
It was quite dark when Rakitin and Alyosha entered her rooms, yet they were not lighted up.Grushenka was lying down in her drawing-room on the big, hard, clumsy sofa, with a mahogany back.
The sofa was covered with shabby and ragged leather.Under her head she had two white down pillows taken from her bed.She was lying stretched out motionless on her back with her hands behind her head.
She was dressed as though expecting someone, in a black silk dress, with a dainty lace fichu on her head, which was very becoming.Over her shoulders was thrown a lace shawl pinned with a massive gold brooch.She certainly was expecting someone.She lay as though impatient and weary, her face rather pale and her lips and eyes hot, restlessly tapping the arm of the sofa with the tip of her right foot.
The appearance of Rakitin and Alyosha caused a slight excitement.From the hall they could hear Grushenka leap up from the sofa and cry out in a frightened voice, "Who's there?" But the maid met the visitors and at once called back to her mistress.
"It's not he, it's nothing, only other visitors.""What can be the matter?" muttered Rakitin, leading Alyosha into the drawing-room.
Grushenka was standing by the sofa as though still alarmed.Athick coil of her dark brown hair escaped from its lace covering and fell on her right shoulder, but she did not notice it and did not put it back till she had gazed at her visitors and recognised them.
"Ah, it's you, Rakitin? You quite frightened me.Whom have you brought? Who is this with you? Good heavens, you have brought him!"she exclaimed, recognising Alyosha.
"Do send for candles!" said Rakitin, with the free-and-easy air of a most intimate friend, who is privileged to give orders in the house.
"Candles...of course, candles....Fenya, fetch him a candle....
Well, you have chosen a moment to bring him! she exclaimed again, nodding towards Alyosha, and turning to the looking-glass she began quickly fastening up her hair with both hands.She seemed displeased.
"Haven't I managed to please you?" asked Rakitin, instantly almost offended.
You frightened me, Rakitin, that's what it is." Grushenka turned with a smile to Alyosha."Don't be afraid of me, my dear Alyosha, you cannot think how glad I am to see you, my unexpected visitor.
But you frightened me, Rakitin, I thought it was Mitya breaking in.