 Section 27 of the Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoevsky, translated by Constance Garnet. Thank goodness he did not ask me about Grushanka, thought Alyosha, as he left his father's house and turned towards Madame Holokovsk, or I might have to tell him of my meeting with Grushanka yesterday. Alyosha felt painfully that since yesterday both combatants had renewed their energies and that their hearts had grown hard again. Father is spiteful and angry, he's made some plan and will stick to it. And what of Dmitry? He too will be harder than yesterday, he too must be spiteful and angry, and he too no doubt has made some plan. I must succeed in finding him today, whatever happens. But Alyosha had not long to meditate. An incident occurred on the road which, though apparently of little consequence, made a great impression on him. Just after he had crossed the square and turned the corner coming out into Mihalovsky Street, which is divided by a small ditch from the high street, our whole town is intersected by ditches. He saw a group of schoolboys between the ages of nine and twelve at the bridge. They were going home from school, some with their bags on their shoulders, others with leather satchels slung across them, some in short jackets, others in little overcoats. Some even had those high boots with creases round the ankles, such as little boys spoiled by rich fathers' love to wear. The whole group was talking eagerly about something, apparently holding a council. Alyosha had never from his Moscow days been able to pass children without taking notice of them, and although he was particularly fond of children of three or there about, he liked schoolboys of ten and eleven too. And so, anxious as he was today, he wanted at once to turn aside to talk to them. He looked into their excited rosy faces and noticed at once that all the boys had stones in their hands. Behind the ditch, some thirty paces away, there was another schoolboy standing by a fence. He too had a satchel at his side. He was about ten years old, pale, delicate looking, and with sparkling black eyes. He kept an attentive and anxious watch on the other six, obviously his schoolfellows with whom he had just come out of school, but with whom he had evidently had a feud. Alyosha went up and, addressing a fair, curly-headed rosy boy in a black jacket, observed, When I used to wear a satchel like yours, I always used to carry it on my left side, so as to have my right hand free, but you've got yours on your right side, so it will be awkward for you to get at it. Alyosha had no art or premeditation in beginning with this practical remark, but it is the only way for a grown-up person to get at once into confidential relations with the child or still more with a group of children. One must begin in a serious business-like way, so as to be on a perfectly equal footing. Alyosha understood it by instinct. But he is left-handed. Another, a fine, healthy-looking boy of eleven, answered promptly. All the others stared at Alyosha. He even threw stones with his left hand, observed a third. At that instant a stone flew into the group, but only just grazed the left-handed boy, though it was well and vigorously thrown by the boy standing the other side of the ditch. Give it him, hit him back, smear off! they all shouted. But smear off! the left-handed boy needed no telling, and at once revenged himself. He threw a stone, but it missed the boy and hit the ground. The boy the other side of the ditch, the pocket of whose coat was visibly bulging with stones, flung another stone at the group. This time it flew straight at Alyosha and hit him painfully on the shoulder. He aimed it at you. He meant it for you. You are Karamazov, Karamazov! The boys shouted, laughing. Come, all throw at him at once, and six stones flew at the boy. One struck the boy on the head, and he fell down, but at once leapt up and began ferociously returning their fire. Both sides threw stones incessantly. Many of the group had their pockets full, too. What are you about? Aren't you ashamed? Six against one? Why, you'll kill him! cried Alyosha. He ran forward and met the flying stones to screen the solitary boy. Three or four ceased throwing for a minute. He began first, cried a boy in a red shirt in an angry childish voice. He is a beast. He stabbed Krasotkin in class the other day with a penknife, yet bled. Krasotkin wouldn't tell tales, but he must be thrashed. But what for? I suppose you tease him. There! He sent a stone in your back again. He knows you, cried the children. It's you he's throwing at now, not us. Come, all of you, at him again. Don't miss Smuroth. And again a fire of stones, and a very vicious one, began. The boy the other side of the ditch was hit in the chest. He screamed, began to cry, and ran away uphill towards Mihilovsky Street. They all shouted, Ha-ha! He's funking! He is running away! Wisp of tow! You don't know what a beast he is, Karamazov. Killing is too good for him, said the boy in the jacket with flashing eyes. He seemed to be the eldest. What's wrong with him, asked Alyosha? Is he a tell-tale or what? The boys looked at one another as though derisively. Are you going that way to Mihilovsky? The same boy went on. Catch him up. You see, he's stopped again. He's waiting and looking at you. He is looking at you, the other boys chimed in. You ask him, does he like a disheveled wisp of tow? Do you hear? Ask him that. There was a general burst of laughter. Alyosha looked at them, and they at him. Don't go near him, he'll hurt you, cried Smuroth in a warning voice. I shan't ask him about the wisp of tow, for I expect you tease him with that question somehow, but I'll find out from him why you hate him so. Find out then, find out, cried the boys, laughing. Alyosha crossed the bridge and walked up hill by the fence, straight towards the boy. You'd better look out, the boys called after him. He won't be afraid of you, he will stab you in a minute on the sly as he did Krasotkin. The boy waited for him without budging. Coming up to him, Alyosha saw, facing him, a child of about nine years old. He was an undersized weekly boy with a thin pale face, with large dark eyes, that gazed at him vindictively. He was dressed in a rather shabby old overcoat, which he had monstrously outgrown. His bare arms stuck out beyond his sleeves. There was a large patch on the right knee of his trousers, and in his right boot, just at the toe, there was a big hole in the leather, carefully blackened with ink. Both the pockets of his greatcoat were weighed down with stones. Alyosha stopped two steps in front of him, looking inquiringly at him. The boy, seeing at once from Alyosha's eyes that he wouldn't beat him, became less defiant and addressed him first. I am alone, and there are six of them. I'll beat them all alone, he said suddenly, with flashing eyes. I think one of the stones must have hurt you badly, observed Alyosha. But I hid Smurov on the head, cried the boy. They told me that you know me, and that you threw a stone at me on purpose, said Alyosha. The boy looked darkly at him. I don't know you. Do you know me? Alyosha continued. Let me alone. The boy cried irritably, but he did not move, as though he were expecting something, and again there was a vindictive light in his eyes. Very well, I am going, said Alyosha. Only I don't know you, and I don't tease you. They told me how they tease you, but I don't want to tease you. Goodbye. Monkey and silk trousers, cried the boy, following Alyosha with the same vindictive and defiant expression, and he threw himself into an attitude of defense, feeling sure that now Alyosha would fall upon him. But Alyosha turned, looked at him, and walked away. He had not gone three steps before the biggest stone the boy had in his pocket hit him a painful blow in the back. So you'll hit a man from behind. They tell the truth then, when they say that you attack on the sly, said Alyosha, turning round again. This time the boy threw a stone savagely right into Alyosha's face, but Alyosha just had time to guard himself, and the stone struck him on the elbow. Aren't you ashamed? What have I done to you? he cried. The boy waited in silent defiance, certain that now Alyosha would attack him. Seeing that even now he would not, his rage was like a little wild beast's. He flew at Alyosha himself, and before Alyosha had time to move, the spiteful child had seized his left hand, with both of his, and bit his middle finger. He fixed his teeth in it, and it was ten seconds before he let go. Alyosha cried out with pain, and pulled his finger away with all his might. The child let go at last, and retreated to his former distance. Alyosha's finger had been badly bitten to the bone, close to the nail, it began to bleed. Alyosha took out his handkerchief, and bound it tightly around his injured hand. He was a full minute bandaging it. The boy stood waiting all the time. At last Alyosha raised his gentle eyes, and looked at him. Very well, he said, you see how badly you've bitten me. That's enough, isn't it? Now tell me, what have I done to you? The boy stared in amazement. Though I don't know you, and it's the first time I've seen you, Alyosha went on with the same serenity, yet I must have done something to you. You wouldn't have hurt me like this for nothing. So what have I done? How have I wronged you? Tell me. Instead of answering, the boy broke into a loud, tearful wail, and ran away. Alyosha walked slowly after him towards Mihalovsky Street, and for a long time he saw the child running in the distance as fast as ever, not turning his head, and no doubt still keeping up his tearful wail. He made up his mind to find him out as soon as he had time, and to solve this mystery. Just now he had not the time. CHAPTER IV. AT THE HOLOCKOFFS Alyosha soon reached Madame Holokov's house, a handsome stone house of two stories, one of the finest in our town. Though Madame Holokov spent most of her time in another province where she had an estate, or in Moscow where she had a house of her own, yet she had a house in our town, too, inherited from her forefathers. The estate in our district was the largest of her three estates, yet she had been very little in our province before this time. She ran out to Alyosha in the hall. Did you get my letter about the new miracle? She spoke rapidly and nervously. Yes. Did you show it to everyone? He restored the son to his mother. He is dying today, said Alyosha. I have heard, I know. Oh, how I long to talk to you, to you or someone about all this. No, to you, to you. And how sorry I am, I can't see him. The whole town is in excitement, they are all suspense. But now, do you know Katarina Ivanovna is here, now? Ah, that's lucky, cried Alyosha, then I shall see her here. She told me yesterday to be sure to come and see her today. I know, I know all. I've heard exactly what happened yesterday and the atrocious behavior of that creature. C'est tragique, and if I'd been in her place, I don't know what I should have done. And your brother, Dmitri Fyodorovich, what do you think of him? My goodness, Alexei Fyodorovich, I am forgetting, only fancy. Your brother is in there with her, not that dreadful brother who was so shocking yesterday, but the other, Ivan Fyodorovich. He is sitting with her talking. They are having a serious conversation. If you could only imagine what's passing between them now, it's awful, I tell you, it's lacerating. It's like some incredible tale of horror. They are ruining their lives for no reason anyone can see. They both recognize it and revel in it. I've been watching for you. I've been thirsting for you. It's too much for me, that's the worst of it. I'll tell you all about it presently, but now I must speak of something else, the most important thing. I had quite forgotten what's most important. Tell me, why has Lise been in hysterics? As soon as she heard you were here, she began to be hysterical. Mama, it's you who are hysterical now, not I! Lise's voice caralled through a tiny crack of the door at the side. Her voice sounded as though she wanted to laugh, but was doing her utmost to control it. Alyosha at once noticed the crack, and no doubt Lise was peeping through it, but that he could not see. And no wonder, Lise, no wonder! Your caprices will make me hysterical, too, but she is so ill, Alexei Fyodorovich, she has been so ill all night, feverish and moaning, I could hardly wait for the morning and for Herzenstuba to come. He says that he can make nothing of it, that we must wait. Herzenstuba always comes and says that he can make nothing of it. As soon as you approached the house, she screamed, fell into hysterics, and insisted on being wheeled back into this room here. Mama, I didn't know he had come. It wasn't on his account I wanted to be wheeled into this room. That's not true, Lise. Julia ran to tell you that Alexei Fyodorovich was coming. She was on the lookout for you. My darling Mama, it's not at all clever of you, but if you want to make up for it and say something very clever, dear Mama, you'd better tell our honoured visitor, Alexei Fyodorovich, that he has shown his want of wit by venturing to us after what happened yesterday, and although everyone is laughing at him. Lise, you go too far. I declare I shall have to be severe. Who laughs at him? I am so glad he has come. I need him. I can't do without him. Oh, Alexei Fyodorovich, I am exceedingly unhappy. But what's the matter with you, Mama, darling? Ah, your caprices, Lise, your fidgetiness, your illness, that awful night of fever, that awful everlasting Herzenstuba. Everlasting, everlasting, that's the worst of it. Everything, in fact, everything. Even that miracle, too. Oh, how it has upset me, how it has shattered me, that miracle, dear Alexei Fyodorovich, and that tragedy in the drawing room. It's more than I can bear. I warn you, I can't bear it. A comedy, perhaps, not a tragedy. Tell me, will Father Zasima live till tomorrow? Will he? Oh, my God, what is happening to me? Every minute I close my eyes and see that it's all nonsense, all nonsense. I should be very grateful. Alyosha interrupted suddenly. If you could give me a clean rag to bind up my finger with, I have hurt it, and it's very painful. Alyosha unbound his bitten finger. The handkerchief was soaked with blood. Madame Holakoff screamed and shut her eyes. Good heavens, what a wound, how awful! But as soon as Lise saw Alyosha's finger through the crack, she flung the door wide open. Come, come here, she cried imperiously. No nonsense now. Good heavens, why did you stand there saying nothing about it all this time? He might have bled to death, mamma. How did you do it? Water, water! You must wash it, first of all. Simply hold it in cold water to stop the pain, and keep it there, keep it there. Make haste, mamma, some water in a slop basin, but do make haste. She finished nervously. She was quite frightened at the sight of Alyosha's wound. Shouldn't we send for Herznshtube, quite Madame Holakoff? Mamma, you'll be the death of me. Your Herznshtube will come and say that he can make nothing of it. Water, water! Mamma, for goodness' sake, go yourself and hurry, Yulia. She is such a slow coach, and never can come quickly. Make haste, mamma, or I shall die. Why, it's nothing much, cried Alyosha, frightened at this alarm. Yulia ran in with water, and Alyosha put his finger in it. Some lint, mamma, for mercy's sake, bring some lint, and that muddy, caustic lotion for wounds. What's it called? We've got some. You know where the bottle is, mamma. It's in your bedroom, in the right hand cupboard. There's a big bottle of it there, with the lint. I'll bring everything in a minute, please, only don't scream and don't fuss. You see how bravely Alexei Fyodorovich bears it. Where did you get such a dreadful wound, Alexei Fyodorovich? But I'm Holakoff hastened away. This was all Lys was waiting for. First of all, answer the question. Where did you get hurt, like this? She asked Alyosha quickly, and then I'll talk to you about something quite different. Well? Instinctively feeling that the time of her mother's absence was precious for her, Alyosha hastened to tell her of his enigmatic meeting with the school boys in the fewest words possible. Lys clasped her hands at his story. How can you, and in that dress too, associate with school boys? She cried angrily, as though she had a right to control him. You are nothing but a boy yourself, if you can do that, a perfect boy. But you must find out for me about that horrid boy, and tell me all about it, for there's some mystery in it. Now, for the second thing, but first a question. Does the pain prevent you talking about utterly unimportant things, but talking sensibly? Of course not, and I don't feel much pain now. That's because your finger is in the water. It must be changed directly, for it will get warm in a minute. Yulia, bring some ice from the cellar, and another basin of water. Now she is gone, I can speak. Will you give me the letter I sent you yesterday, dear Alexei Fyodorovich? Be quick, for Mama will be back in a minute, and I don't want. I haven't got the letter. That's not true, you have. I knew you would say that. You've got it in that pocket. I've been regretting that joke all night. Give me back the letter at once. Give it me. I've left it at home. But you can't consider me as a child, a little girl, after that silly joke. I beg your pardon for that silliness, but you must bring me the letter if you really haven't got it. Bring it today. You must. You must. Today I can't possibly, for I am going back to the monastery, and I shan't come and see you for the next two days, three or four perhaps, for Father Zasima. Four days? What nonsense! Listen, did you laugh at me very much? I didn't laugh at all. Why not? Because I believed all you said. You are insulting me. Not at all. As soon as I read it I thought that all that would come to pass, for as soon as Father Zasima dies I am to leave the monastery. Then I shall go back and finish my studies, and when you reach the legal age we will be married. I shall love you. Though I haven't had time to think about it I believe I couldn't find a better wife than you, and Father Zasima tells me I must marry. But I am a cripple, wheeled about in a chair, laughed Lise, flushing crimson. I will you about myself, but I'm sure you'll get well by then. But you are mad, said Lise nervously, to make all this nonsense out of a joke. Here's Mama, very apropos perhaps. Mama, how slow you always are! How can you be so long? And here's Yulia with the ice. Oh, Lise, don't scream. Above all things, don't scream. That scream drives me. How can I help it when you put the lint in another place? I've been hunting and hunting. I do believe you did it on purpose. But I couldn't tell that he would come with a bad finger, or else perhaps I might have done it on purpose. My darling Mama, you begin to say really witty things. Never mind my being witty, but I must say you show nice feeling for Alexei Fyodorovich's sufferings. Oh, my dear Alexei Fyodorovich, what's killing me is no one thing in particular, not Herzen Stuba, but everything together. That's what is too much for me. That's enough, Mama, enough about Herzen Stuba. Lise laughed geely. Make haste with the lint and the lotion, Mama. That's simply Goulard's water, Alexei Fyodorovich. I remember the name now, but it's a splendid lotion. Would you believe it, Mama? On the way here, he had a fight with the boys on the street, and it was a boy bit his finger. Isn't he a child, a child himself? Is he fit to be married after that? For only fancy. He wants to be married, Mama. Just think of him married. Wouldn't it be funny? Wouldn't it be awful? And Lise kept laughing her thin hysterical giggle, looking slyly at Alyosha. But why married, Lise? What makes you talk of such a thing is quite out of place. And perhaps the boy was rabid. Why, Mama, as though there were rabid boys. Why not, Lise, as though I had said something stupid, your boy might have been bitten by a mad dog, and he would become mad and bite anyone near him. How well she has bandaged it, Alexei Fyodorovich. I couldn't have done it. Do you still feel the pain? It's nothing much now. You don't feel afraid of water, asked Lise. Come, that's enough, Lise. Perhaps I really was rather too quick talking of the boy being rabid, but you pounced upon it at once. Katerina Ivanovna has only just heard that you are here, Alexei Fyodorovich. She simply rushed at me. She's dying to see you, dying. Ah, Mama, go to them yourself. He can't go just now. He is in too much pain. Not at all. I can go quite well, said Alyosha. What, you are going away? Is that what you say? Well, when I've seen them, I'll come back here and we can talk as much as you like. But I should like to see Katerina Ivanovna at once, for I am very anxious to be back at the monastery as soon as I can. Mama, take him away quickly. Alexei Fyodorovich, don't trouble to come and see me afterwards, but go straight back to your monastery and a good riddance. I want to sleep. I didn't sleep all night. Ah, Lise, you are only making fun. But how I wish you would sleep, cried Madame Holikov. I don't know what I've done. I'll stay another three minutes. Five, if you like, muttered Alyosha. Even five. Do take him away quickly, Mama. He is a monster. Lise, you are crazy. Let us go, Alexei Fyodorovich. She is too capricious today. I am afraid to cross her. Oh, the trouble one has with nervous girls. Perhaps she really will be able to sleep after seeing you. How quickly you have made her sleepy, and how fortunate it is. Ah, Mama, how sweetly you talk. I must kiss you for it, Mama. And I kiss you, too, Lise. Listen, Alexei Fyodorovich. Madame Holikov began mysteriously and importantly speaking in a rapid whisper. I don't want to suggest anything. I don't want to lift the veil. You will see for yourself what's going on. It's appalling. It's the most fantastic farce. She loves your brother, Ivan, and she is doing her utmost to persuade herself she loves your brother, Dmitry. It's appalling. I'll go in with you, and if they don't turn me out, I'll stay to the end. CHAPTER V. A LACERATION IN THE DRAWING ROOM But in the drawing room the conversation was already over. Katarina Ivanovna was greatly excited, though she looked resolute. At the moment Alyosha and Madame Holikov entered, Ivan Fyodorovich stood up to take leave. His face was rather pale, and Alyosha looked at him anxiously. For this moment was to solve a doubt, a harassing enigma which had for some time haunted Alyosha. During the preceding month it had been several times suggested to him that his brother Ivan was in love with Katarina Ivanovna, and what was more, that he meant to carry her off from Dmitry. Until quite lately the idea seemed to Alyosha monstrous, though it worried him extremely. He loved both his brothers and dreaded such rivalry between them. Meantime Dmitry had said outright on the previous day that he was glad that Ivan was his rival, and that it was a great assistance to him, Dmitry. In what way did it assist him to marry Grushanka? But that Alyosha considered the worst thing possible. Besides all this Alyosha had, till the evening before, implicitly believed that Katarina Ivanovna had a steadfast and passionate love for Dmitry. But he had only believed it till the evening before. He had fancied too that she was incapable of loving a man like Ivan, and that she did love Dmitry, and loved him just as he was, in spite of all the strangeness of such a passion. But during yesterday's scene with Grushanka another idea had struck him. The word lacerating, which Madame Holikov had just uttered, almost made him start, because half waking up towards daybreak that night he had cried out, laceration, laceration, probably applying it to his dream. He had been dreaming all night of the previous day's scene at Katarina Ivanovna's. Now Alyosha was impressed by Madame Holikov's blunt and persistent assertion that Katarina Ivanovna was in love with Ivan, and only deceived herself through some sort of pose from self-laceration, and tortured herself by her pretended love for Dmitry from some fancied duty of gratitude. Yes, he thought, perhaps the whole truth lies in those words. But in that case what was Ivan's position? Alyosha felt instinctively that a character like Katarina Ivanovna's must dominate, and she could only dominate someone like Dmitry and never a man like Ivan, for Dmitry might at last submit to her domination to his own happiness, which was what Alyosha would have desired. But Ivan, now, Ivan could not submit to her, and such submission would not give him happiness. Alyosha could not help believing that of Ivan. And now all these doubts and reflections flitted through his mind as he entered the drawing-room. Another idea, too, forced itself upon him. What if she loved neither of them, neither Ivan nor Dmitry? It must be noted that Alyosha felt as it were ashamed of his own thoughts and blamed himself when they kept recurring to him during the last month. What do I know about love and women, and how can I decide such questions? He thought reproachfully, after such doubts and surmises, and yet it was impossible not to think about it. He felt instinctively that this rivalry was of immense importance in his brother's lives, and that a great deal depended upon it. One reptile will devour the other, Ivan had pronounced the day before, speaking in anger of his father and Dmitry. So Ivan looked upon Dmitry as a reptile, and perhaps had long done so. Was it perhaps since he had known Katarina Ivanovna? That phrase had, of course, escaped Ivan unawares yesterday, but that only made it more important. If he felt like that, what chance was there of peace? Were there not, on the contrary, new grounds for hatred and hostility in their family? And with which of them was Alyosha to sympathize, and what was he to wish for each of them? He loved them both, but what could he desire for each in the midst of these conflicting interests? He might go quite astray in this maze, and Alyosha's heart could not endure uncertainty, because his love was always of an active character. He was incapable of passive love. If he loved anyone, he set to work at once to help him, and to do so he must know what he was aiming at, he must know for certain what was best for each, and having ascertained this, it was natural for him to help them both. But instead of a definite aim, he found nothing but uncertainty and perplexity on all sides. It was lacerating, as was said just now, but what could he understand even in this laceration? He did not understand the first word in this perplexing maze. Seeing Alyosha, Katarina Ivanovna said quickly and joyfully to Yvonne, who had already got up to go, a minute, stay another minute, I want to hear the opinion of this person here, whom I trust absolutely. Don't go away, she added, addressing Madame Holikoff. She made Alyosha sit down beside her, and Madame Holikoff sat opposite by Yvonne. You are all my friends here, all I have in the world, my dear friends. She began warmly, in a voice which quivered with genuine tears of suffering, and Alyosha's heart warmed to her at once. You, Alexei Fyodorovich, were witness yesterday of that abominable scene, and saw what I did. You did not see it, Yvonne Fyodorovich. He did. What he thought of me yesterday, I don't know. I only know one thing, that if it were repeated today, this minute, I should express the same feelings again as yesterday, the same feelings, the same words, the same actions. You remember my actions, Alexei Fyodorovich, you checked me in one of them. As she said that, she flushed and her eyes shone. I must tell you that I can't get over it. Listen, Alexei Fyodorovich, I don't even know whether I still love him. I feel pity for him, and that is a poor sign of love. If I loved him, if I still loved him, perhaps I shouldn't be sorry for him now, but should hate him. Her voice quivered, and tears glittered on her eyelashes. Alexei shuddered inwardly. That girl is truthful and sincere, he thought, and she does not love Dmitry any more. That's true, that's true, cried Madame Holakoff. Wait, dear, I haven't told you the chief, the final decision I came to during the night. I feel that perhaps my decision is a terrible one, for me, but I foresee that nothing will induce me to change it. Nothing, it will be so all my life. My dear, kind, ever-faithful, and generous advisor, the one friend I have in the world, Yvon Fyodorovich, with his deep insight into the heart, approves and commends my decision. He knows it. Yes, I approve of it. Yvon assented, in a subdued but firm voice. But I should like Alyosha too. Alexei Fyodorovich, forgive my calling you simply Alyosha. I should like Alexei Fyodorovich, too, to tell me before my two friends whether I am right. I feel instinctively that you, Alyosha, my dear brother, for you are a dear brother to me. She said again ecstatically, taking his cold hand in her hot one. I foresee that your decision, your approval, will bring me peace in spite of all my sufferings, for after your words I shall be calm and submit. I feel that. I don't know what you are asking me, said Alyosha, flushing. I only know that I love you, and at this moment wish for your happiness more than my own. But I know nothing about such affairs. Something impelled him to add hurriedly. In such affairs, Alexei Fyodorovich, in such affairs the chief thing is honor and duty, and something higher. I don't know what, but higher perhaps even than duty. I am conscious of this irresistible feeling in my heart, and it compels me irresistibly. But it may all be put in two words. I have already decided, even if he marries, that creature, she began solemnly, whom I never, never can forgive, even then I will not abandon him. Henceforward I will never, never abandon him, she cried, breaking into a sort of pale, hysterical ecstasy. Not that I would run after him continually, get in his way and worry him. Oh no, I will go away to another town where you like, but I will watch over him all my life, I will watch over him all my life unceasingly. When he becomes unhappy with that woman, and that is bound to happen quite soon, let him come to me, and he will find a friend, a sister, only a sister, of course, and so for ever. But he will learn at least that that sister is really his sister, who loves him and has sacrificed all her life to him. I will gain my point, I will insist on his knowing me, and confiding entirely in me, without reserve, she cried in a sort of frenzy. I will be a God to whom he can pray, and that at least heals me for his treachery, and for what I have suffered yesterday through him. And let him see that all my life I will be true to him, and the promise I gave him, in spite of his being untrue and betraying me. I will become nothing but a means for his happiness, or, how shall I say, an instrument, a machine for his happiness, and that for my whole life, my whole life, and that he may see that all his life. That's my decision. Yvonne Fyodorovich fully approves me. She was breathless. She had perhaps intended to express her idea with more dignity, art, and naturalness, but her speech was too hurried and crude. It was full of youthful impulsiveness. It betrayed that she was still smarting from yesterday's insult, and that her pride craved satisfaction. She felt this herself. Her face suddenly darkened. An unpleasant look came into her eyes. Alyoshet once saw it, and felt a pang of sympathy. His brother Yvonne made it worse, by adding, I've only expressed my own view, he said. From anyone else this would have been affected and overstrained. But from you? No. Any other woman would have been wrong, but you are right. I don't know how to explain it, but I see that you are absolutely genuine, and therefore you are right. But that's only for the moment, and what does this moment stand for? Nothing but yesterday's insult. Madame Holakoff obviously had not intended to interfere, but she could not refrain from this very just comment. Quite so, quite so, cried Yvonne, with peculiar eagerness, obviously annoyed at being interrupted. In anyone else this moment would be only due to yesterday's impression, and would be only a moment. But with Katerina Yvonne's character, that moment will last all her life. What for anyone else would be only a promise, is for her an everlasting, burdensome, grim, perhaps, but unflagging duty. And she will be sustained by the feeling of this duty being fulfilled. Your life, Katerina Yvonne, will henceforth be spent in painful brooding over your own feelings, your own heroism, and your own suffering. But in the end that suffering will be softened and will pass into sweet contemplation of the fulfilment of a bold and proud design. Yes, proud it certainly is, and desperate in any case, but a triumph for you, and the consciousness of it will at last be a source of complete satisfaction, and will make you resigned to everything else. This was unmistakably said with some malice, and obviously with intention, even perhaps with no desire to conceal that he spoke ironically and with intention. Oh, dear, how mistaken it all is, Madame Holikov cried again. Alexei Fyodorovich, you speak, I want dreadfully to know what you will say, cried Katerina Yvonnevna, and burst into tears. Alyosha got up from the sofa. It's nothing, nothing. She went on through her tears. I'm upset, I didn't sleep last night, but by the sight of two such friends as you and your brother I still feel strong, for I know you too will never desert me. Unluckily I am obliged to return to Moscow, perhaps tomorrow, and to leave you for a long time, and unluckily it's unavoidable, Yvonnevna said suddenly. Tomorrow to Moscow! Her face was suddenly contorted. But, but dear me, how fortunate! She cried in a voice suddenly changed. In one instant there was no trace left of her tears. She underwent an instantaneous transformation, which amazed Alyosha. Instead of a poor insulted girl weeping in a sort of laceration, he saw a woman completely self-possessed and even exceedingly pleased, as though something agreeable had just happened. Oh, not fortunate that I am losing you, of course not! She corrected herself suddenly, with a charming society smile. Such a friend as you are could not suppose that. I am only too unhappy at losing you. She rushed impulsively at Yvonne and, seizing both his hands, pressed them warmly. But what is fortunate is that you will be able in Moscow to see Auntie and Agathia, and to tell them all the horror of my present position. You can speak with complete openness to Agathia, but spare dear Auntie. You will know how to do that. You can't think how wretched I was yesterday in this morning, wondering how I could write them that dreadful letter, for one can never tell such things in a letter. Now it will be easy for me to write, for you will see them and explain everything, or how glad I am. But I am only glad of that, believe me. Of course no one can take your place. I will run at once to write the letter. She finished suddenly and took a step as though to go out of the room. And what about Alyosha and his opinion, which you were so desperately anxious to hear? cried Madame Holokhov. There was a sarcastic, angry note in her voice. I had not forgotten that, cried Katarina Ivanovna, coming to a sudden standstill. And why are you so antagonistic at such a moment? she added, with warm and bitter reproachfulness. What I said I repeat. I must have his opinion. More than that, I must have his decision. As he says, so it shall be. You see how anxious I am for your words, Alexei Fyodorovich. But what's the matter? I couldn't have believed it. I can't understand it. Alyosha cried suddenly in distress. What? What? He is going to Moscow and you cry out that you are glad. You said that on purpose, and you begin explaining that you are not glad of that but sorry to be losing a friend. But that was acting too. You were playing apart, as in a theatre. In a theatre? What? What do you mean? exclaimed Katarina Ivanovna, profoundly astonished, flushing crimson and frowning. Though you assure him you are sorry to lose a friend in him, you persist in telling him to his face that it's fortunate he is going, said Alyosha breathlessly. He was standing at the table and did not sit down. What are you talking about? I don't understand. I don't understand myself. I seemed to see in a flash. I know I'm not saying it properly, but I'll say it all the same. Alyosha went on in the same shaking and broken voice. What I see is that perhaps you don't love Dmitry at all and never have, from the beginning. And Dmitry too has never loved you and only esteems you. I really don't know how I dare to say all this, but somebody must tell the truth, for nobody here will tell the truth. What truth? cried Katarina Ivanovna, and there was an hysterical ring in her voice. I'll tell you, Alyosha went on with desperate haste, as though he were jumping from the top of a house. Call Dmitry, I will fetch him, and let him come here, and take your hand, and take Ivan's, and join your hands, for you're torturing Ivan simply because you love him, and torturing him because you love Dmitry through self-laceration, with an unreal love, because you've persuaded yourself. Alyosha broke off and was silent. You—you—you are a little religious idiot. That's what you are. Katarina Ivanovna snapped. Her face was white, and her lips were moving with anger. Ivan suddenly laughed, and got up. His hat was in his hand. You are mistaken, my good Alyosha. He said, with an expression Alyosha had never seen in his face before, an expression of youthful sincerity, and strong, irresistibly frank feeling. Katarina Ivanovna has never cared for me. She has known all the time that I cared for her, though I never said a word of my love to her. She knew, but she didn't care for me. I have never been her friend, either, not for one moment. She is too proud to need my friendship. She kept me at her side as a means of revenge. She revenged with me and on me all the insults which she has been continually receiving from Dmitry ever since their first meeting. For even that first meeting has wrinkled in her heart as an insult. That's what her heart is like. She has talked to me of nothing but her love for him. I am going now. But believe me, Katarina Ivanovna, you really love him. And the more he insults you, the more you love him. That's your laceration. You love him just as he is. You love him for insulting you. If he reformed, you'd give him up at once and cease to love him. But you need him so as to contemplate continually your heroic fidelity and to reproach him for infidelity. And it all comes from your pride. Oh, there's a great deal of humiliation and self-abasement about it, but it all comes from pride. I am too young, and I've loved you too much. I know that I ought not to say this, that it would be more dignified on my part simply to leave you, and it would be less offensive for you. But I am going far away, and shall never come back. It is forever. I don't want to sit beside a laceration. But I don't know how to speak now. I've said everything. Goodbye, Katarina Ivanovna. You can't be angry with me, for I am a hundred times more severely punished than you, if only by the fact that I shall never see you again. Goodbye. I don't want your hand. You have tortured me too deliberately for me to be able to forgive you at this moment. I shall forgive you later, but now I don't want your hand. Then Dant Dama Beger Ich nicked, he added, with a forced smile, showing, however, that he could read Schiller and read him till he knew him by heart, which Alyosha would never have believed. He went out of the room without saying good-bye even to his hostess, Madame Holikov. Alyosha clasped his hands. Ivan! he cried desperately after him. Come back, Ivan! No, nothing will induce him to come back now. He cried again, regretfully realising it. But it's my fault, my fault. I began it. Ivan spoke angrily, wrongly, unjustly and angrily. He must come back here. Come back! Alyosha kept exclaiming frantically. Katarina Ivanovna went suddenly into the next room. You have done no harm. You behaved beautifully, like an angel. Madame Holikov whispered rapidly and ecstatically to Alyosha. I will do my utmost to prevent Ivan Fyodorovich from going. Her face beamed with delight to the great distress of Alyosha, but Katarina Ivanovna suddenly returned. She had two hundred rubal notes in her hand. I have a great favour to ask of you, Alexei Fyodorovich. She began addressing Alyosha with an apparently calm and even voice, as though nothing had happened. A week—yes, I think it was a week ago—Dmitry Fyodorovich was guilty of a hasty and unjust action, a very ugly action. There is a low tavern here, and in it he met that discharged officer, that captain whom your father used to employ, in some business. Dmitry Fyodorovich somehow lost his temper with this captain, seized him by the beard, and dragged him out into the street and for some distance along it, in that insulting fashion. And I am told that his son, a boy, quite a child, who is at the school here, saw it, and ran beside them, crying and begging for his father, appealing to everyone to defend him, while everyone laughed. You must forgive me, Alexei Fyodorovich. I cannot think without indignation of that disgraceful action of his. One of those actions of which only Dmitry Fyodorovich would be capable in his anger, and in his passions. I can't describe it even, I can't find my words. I've made inquiries about his victim, and find he is quite a poor man. His name is Snagiryev. He did something wrong in the army and was discharged, I can't tell you what, and now he has sunk into terrible destitution with his family, an unhappy family of sick children, and I believe an insane wife. He has been living here a long time. He used to work as a copying clerk, but now he is getting nothing. I thought, if you, that is, I thought, I don't know, I am so confused. You see, I wanted to ask you, my dear Alexei Fyodorovich, to go to him, to find some excuse to go to them, I mean to that captain, oh goodness how badly I explain it, and delicately, carefully, as only you know how to. Al-Yasha blushed. Managed to give him this assistance, these two hundred rubles? He will be sure to take it. I mean persuade him to take it, or rather, what do I mean? You see, it's not by way of compensation to prevent him from taking proceedings, for I believe he meant to, but simply a token of sympathy, of a desire to assist him, from me, Dmitry Fyodorovich is betrothed, not from himself, but, you know, I would go myself, but you will know how to do whatever is so much better. He lives in Lake Street, in the house of a woman called Kalmikov. For God's sake, Alexei Fyodorovich, do it for me, and now, now I am rather tired. Goodbye. She turned and disappeared behind the porch here so quickly that Al-Yasha had not time to utter a word, though he wanted to speak. He longed to beg her pardon, to blame himself to say something, for his heart was full and he could not bear to go out of the room without it. But Madame Holikov took him by the hand and drew him along with her. In the hall she stopped him again as before. She is proud, she is struggling with herself, but kind, charming, generous. She exclaimed in a half-whisper. Oh, how I love her, especially sometimes, and how glad I am again of everything. Dear Alexei Fyodorovich, you didn't know, but I must tell you, that we all, all, both her aunts, I, and all of us, please even, have been hoping and praying for nothing for the last month, but that she may give up your favourite Dmitry, who takes no notice of her and does not care for her, and may marry Ivan Fyodorovich, such an excellent and cultivated young man, who loves her more than anything in the world. We are in a regular plot to bring it about, and I am even staying on here, perhaps, on that account. But she has been crying, she has been wounded again, cried Al-Yasha. Never trust a woman's tears, Alexei Fyodorovich. I am never for the women in such cases. I am always on the side of the men. Mama, you are spoiling him. Liza's little voice cried from behind the door. No, it was all my fault. I am horribly to blame. Al-Yasha repeated, unconsoled, hiding his face in his hands in an agony of remorse for his indiscretion. Quite the contrary, you behaved like an angel, like an angel. I am ready to say so a thousand times over. Mama, how has he behaved like an angel? Liza's voice was heard again. I somehow fancied all at once, Al-Yasha went on as though he had not heard Liza, that she loved Ivan, and so I said that stupid thing. What will happen now? To whom, to whom, cried Liza, Mama, you really want to be the death of me, I ask you and you don't answer. At the moment the maid ran in. Katarina Ivanovna is ill, she is crying, struggling, hysterics. What is the matter, cried Liza, in a tone of real anxiety? Mama, I shall be having hysterics and not she. Liza, for mercy's sake, don't scream, don't persecute me. At your age one can't know everything that grown-up people know. I'll come and tell you everything you ought to know. Oh, mercy on us. I am coming, I am coming. Hysterics is a good sign, Alexei Fyodorovich. It's an excellent thing that she is hysterical. That's just as it ought to be. In such cases I am always against the woman, against all these feminine tears and hysterics. Run and say, Julia, that I'll fly to her. As for Ivan Fyodorovich is going away like that, it's her own fault. But he won't go away. Liza, for mercy's sake, don't scream. Oh, yes, you are not screaming. It's I am screaming. Forgive your Mama. But I am delighted, delighted, delighted. Did you notice, Alexei Fyodorovich, how young, how young Ivan Fyodorovich was just now when he went out, when he said all that and went out. I thought he was so learned, such as Savant, and all of a sudden he behaved so warmly, openly, and youthfully, with such youthful inexperience, and that was all so fine, like you. And the way he repeated that German verse, it was just like you. But I must fly. I must fly. Alexei Fyodorovich, make haste to carry out her commission, and then make haste back. Liza, do you want anything now? For mercy's sake, don't keep Alexei Fyodorovich a minute. He will come back to you at once. Madam Holokov at last ran off. Before leaving, Alyosha would have opened the door to see Liza. On no account, cried Liza, on no account now speak through the door. How have you come to be an angel? That's the only thing I want to know. For an awful piece of stupidity, Liza. Goodbye. Don't dare to go away like that. Liza was beginning. Liza, I have a real sorrow. I will be back directly, but I have a great, great sorrow. And he ran out of the room. END OF SECTION XXIX He certainly was really grieved in a way he had seldom been before. He had washed in like a fool, and meddled in what? In a love affair. But what do I know about it? What can I tell about such things? He repeated to himself for the hundredth time, flushing crimson. Oh, being ashamed would be nothing. Shame is the only punishment I deserve. The trouble is I shall certainly have caused more unhappiness, and Father Zosima sent me to reconcile and bring them together. Is this the way to bring them together? Then he suddenly remembered how he had tried to join their hands, and he felt fearfully ashamed again. Though I acted quite sincerely, I must be more sensible in the future, he concluded suddenly, and did not even smile at his conclusion. Katarina Ivanovna's commission took him to Lake Street, and his brother Dmitry lived close by, in a turning out of Lake Street. Alyosha decided to go to him in any case before going to the Captain, though he had a presentiment that he would not find his brother. He suspected that he would intentionally keep out of his way now, but he must find him anyhow. Time was passing. The thought of his dying elder had not left Alyosha for one minute from the time he set off from the monastery. There was one point which interested him particularly about Katarina Ivanovna's commission. When she had mentioned the Captain's son, the little schoolboy who had run beside his father crying, the idea had at once struck Alyosha that this must be the schoolboy who had bitten his finger when he, Alyosha, asked him what he had done to hurt him. Now Alyosha felt practically certain of this, though he could not have said why. Thinking of another subject was a relief, and he resolved to think no more about the mischief he had done, and not to torture himself with remorse, but to do what he had to do, let come what would. At that thought he was completely comforted. Turning to the street where Dimitri lodged, he felt hungry, and, taking out of his pocket the role he had brought from his father's, he ate it. It made him feel stronger. Dimitri was not at home. The people of the house, an old cabinet-maker, his son and his old wife, looked with positive suspicion at Alyosha. He hasn't slept here for the last three nights. Maybe he has gone away, the old man said, in answer to Alyosha's persistent inquiries. Alyosha saw that he was answering in accordance with the instructions. When he asked whether he were not at Grushanka's or in hiding at Foma's, Alyosha spoke so freely on purpose, all three looked at him in alarm. They are fond of him, they are doing their best for him, thought Alyosha. That's good. At last he found the house in Lake Street. It was a decrepit little house, sunk on one side with three windows looking into the street, and with a muddy yard, in the middle of which stood a solitary cow. He grasped the yard and found the door opening into the passage. On the left of the passage lived the old woman of the house with her old daughter. Both seemed to be deaf. In answer to his repeated inquiry for the captain, one of them at last understood that he was asking for their lodgers and pointed to a door across the passage. The captain's lodging turned out to be a simple cottage room. Alyosha had his hand on the iron latch to open the door when he was struck by the strange hush within. Yet he knew from Caterina Ivanovna's words that the man had a family. Either they are all asleep, or perhaps they have heard me coming and are waiting for me to open the door. I had better knock first, and he knocked. An answer came, but not at once, after an interval of perhaps ten seconds. Who's there? shouted someone in a loud and very angry voice. Then Alyosha opened the door and crossed the threshold. He found himself in a regular peasant's room. Though it was large, it was combered up with domestic belongings of all sorts, and there were several people in it. On the left was a large Russian stove. From the stove to the window on the left was a string running across the room, and on it there were rags hanging. There was a bedstead against the wall on each side, right hand left, covered with knitted quilts. On the one on the left was a pyramid of four print-covered pillows, each smaller than the one beneath. On the other there was only one very small pillow. The opposite corner was screened off by a curtain, or a sheet hung on a string. Behind this curtain could be seen a bed made up on a bench and a chair. The rough square table of plain wood had been moved into the middle window. The three windows, which consisted each of four tiny greenish mildewy panes, gave little light and were close shut, so that the room was not very light and rather stuffy. On the table was a frying pan with the remains of some fried eggs, a half-eaten piece of bread, and a small bottle with a few drops of vodka. A woman of gentile appearance, wearing a cotton gown, was sitting on a chair by the bed on the left. Her face was thin and yellow, and her sunken cheeks betrayed at the first glance that she was ill. But what struck Aliascha most was the expression in the poor woman's eyes, a look of surprised inquiry and yet of haughty pride. And while he was talking to her husband, her big brown eyes moved from one speaker to the other with the same haughty and questioning expression. Beside her at the window stood a young girl, rather plain with scanty reddish hair, poorly but very neatly dressed. She looked disdainfully at Aliascha as he came in. Beside the other bed was sitting another female figure. She was a very sad sight, a young girl of about twenty, but hunchback and crippled with withered legs as Aliascha was told afterwards. Her crutches stood in the corner close by. The strikingly beautiful and gentle eyes of this poor girl looked with mild serenity at Aliascha. A man of forty-five was sitting at the table, finishing the fried eggs. He was spare, small and weakly built. He had reddish hair and a scanty light-colored beard, very much like a wisp of toe. This comparison and the phrase, a wisp of toe, flashed at once into Aliascha's mind for some reason he remembered it afterwards. It was obviously this gentleman who had shouted to him, as there was no other man in the room. But when Aliascha went in he leapt up from the bench on which he was sitting and hastily wiping his mouth with the ragged napkin, darted up to Aliascha. It's a monk come to beg for the monastery, a nice place to come to, the girl standing in the left corner said aloud. The man spun round instantly towards her and answered her in an excited and breaking voice. No, Varvara, you are wrong. Allow me to ask, he turned again to Aliascha, what has brought you to our retreat? Aliascha looked attentively at him. It was the first time he had seen him. There was something angular, flurried, and irritable about him. Though he had obviously just been drinking, he was not drunk. There was extraordinary impudence in his expression, and yet, strange to say, at the same time there was fear. He looked like a man who had long been kept in subjection and had submitted to it and now had suddenly turned and was trying to assert himself. Or better still, like a man who wants dreadfully to hit you, but is horribly afraid you will hit him. In his words and in the intonation of his shrill voice, there was a sort of crazy humor at times spiteful and at times cringing and continually shifting from one tone to another. The question about our retreat, he had asked, as it were quivering all over, rolling his eyes and skipping up so close to Aliascha that he instinctively drew back a step. He was dressed in a very shabby dark cotton coat, patched and spotted. He wore checked trousers of an extremely light color long out of fashion and a very thin material. They were so crumpled and so short that he looked as though he had grown out with them like a boy. I am Alexey Karamazov. Aliascha began in reply. I quite understand that, sir, the gentleman snapped out at once to assure him that he knew who he was already. I am Captain Snagiryoth, sir, but I am still desirous to know precisely what has led you. Oh, I've come for nothing special. I wanted to have a word with you, if only you allow me. In that case, here is a chair, sir, kindly be seated. That's what they used to say in the old comedies, kindly be seated. And with a rapid gesture he seized an empty chair. It was a rough wooden chair, not upholstered, and set it for him almost in the middle of the room. Then, taking another similar chair for himself, he sat down facing Aliascha, so close to him that their knees almost touched. Formerly a captain in the Russian infantry, put to shame for his vices but still a captain. Though I might not be one now for the way I talk, for the last half of my life I've learned to say, sir, it's a word you use when you've come down in the world. That's very true, smiled Aliascha, but he said used involuntarily or on purpose. As God's above, it's involuntary, and I usant to use it. I didn't use the word sir all my life, but as soon as I sank into low water, I began to say, sir, it's the work of a higher power. I see you are interested in contemporary questions, but how can I have excited your curiosity, living as I do in surroundings impossible for the exercise of hospitality? I've come about that business. About what business? The captain interrupted impatiently. About your meeting with my brother Dmitry Fyodorovich. Aliascha blurted out awkwardly. What meeting, sir? You don't mean that meeting? About my wisp of tow, then? He moved closer so that his knees positively knocked against Aliascha. His lips were strangely compressed like a thread. What wisp of tow, muttered Aliascha? He has come to complain of me, father, cried a voice familiar to Aliascha, the voice of the schoolboy, from behind the curtain. I bit his finger just now. The curtain was pulled and Aliascha saw his assailant lying on a little bed made up on the bench and the chair in the corner under the icons. The boy lay covered by his coat and an old wadded quilt. He was evidently unwell, and judging by his glittering eyes he was in a fever. He looked at Aliascha without fear, as though he felt he was at home and could not be touched. What, did he bite your finger? The captain jumped up from his chair. Was it your finger he bit? Yes, he was throwing stones with other schoolboys. There were six of them against him alone. I went up to him and he threw a stone at me and then another at my head. I asked him what I had done to him, and then he rushed at me and bit my finger badly. I don't know why. I'll thrash him, sir, at once, this minute. The captain jumped up from his seat. But I am not complaining at all. I am simply telling you. I don't want him to be thrashed. Besides, he seems to be ill. And do you suppose I'd thrash him, that I take my Ilyusha and thrash him before you for your satisfaction? Would you like it done at once, sir? said the captain, suddenly turning to Aliascha, as though he were going to attack him. I am sorry about your finger, sir, but instead of thrashing Ilyusha, would you like me to chop off my four fingers with this knife here before your eyes to satisfy your just wrath? I should think four fingers would be enough to satisfy your thirst for vengeance. You won't ask for the fifth one, too. He stopped short with a catch in his throat. Every feature in his face was twitching and working. He looked extremely defiant. He was in a sort of frenzy. I think I understand it all now, said Aliascha gently and sorrowfully, still keeping his seat. So your boy is a good boy. He loves his father, and he attacked me as the brother of your assailant. Now I understand it, he repeated thoughtfully. But my brother Dmitry Fyodorovitch regrets his action. I know that, and if only it is possible for him to come to you or better still to meet you in that same place, he will ask your forgiveness before everyone, if you wish it. After pulling out my beard you mean he will ask my forgiveness, and he thinks that will be a satisfactory finish, doesn't he? Oh no, on the contrary, he will do anything you like, and in any way you like. So if I were to ask his highness to go down on his knees before me in that very tavern, the metropolis it's called, or in the market place, he would do it? Yes, he would even go down on his knees. You've pierced me to the heart, sir, touched me to tears and pierced me to the heart. I am only too sensible of your brother's generosity. Allow me to introduce my family, my two daughters and my son, my litter. If I die, who will care for them, and while I live, who but they will care for a wretch like me? That's a great thing the lord has ordained for every man of my sort, sir, for there must be someone able to love even a man like me. Ah, that's perfectly true, exclaimed Al Yasha. Oh, do leave off playing the fool! Some idiot comes in and you put us to shame, cried the girl by the window, suddenly turning to her father with a disdainful and contemptuous air. Wait a little, Varvara, cried her father, speaking peremptorily, but looking at her quite approvingly. That's her character, he said, addressing Al Yasha again. And in all nature there was not that could find favour in his eyes, or rather in the feminine, that could find favour in her eyes. But now let me present you to my wife, Arena Petrovna. She is crippled, she is forty-three. She can move, but very little. She is of humble origin. Arena Petrovna, compose your countenance. This is Alexei Fyodorovich Karamazov. Get up, Alexei Fyodorovich. He took him by the hand and with unexpected force pulled him up. You must stand up to be introduced to a lady. It's not the Karamazov mama who, etc., but his brother, radiant with modest virtues. Come, Arena Petrovna, come mama, first your hand to be kissed. And he kissed his wife's hand respectfully and even tenderly. The girl at the window turned her back indignantly on the scene, an expression of extraordinary cordiality came over the hotly inquiring face of the woman. Good morning. Sit down, Mr. Karamazov. She said, Karamazov mama, Karamazov. We are of humble origin. He whispered again. Well, Karamazov, or whatever it is, but I always think of Karamazov. Sit down. Why has he pulled you up? He calls me crippled, but I am not. Only my legs are swollen like barrels, and I am shriveled up myself. Once I used to be so fat, but now it's as though I had swallowed a needle. We are of humble origin, the captain muttered again. Oh, father, father, the hunchback girl, who had till then been silent on her chair, said suddenly, and she hid her eyes in her handkerchief. Buffoon blurted out the girl at the window. Have you heard our news? said the mother, pointing at her daughters. It's like clouds coming over. The clouds pass, and we have music again. When we were with the army, we used to have many such guests. I don't mean to make any comparisons, every one to their taste. The deacon's wife used to come then and say, Aleksandr Aleksandrovich is a man of the noblest heart, but Nastasia Petrovna, she would say, is of the brood of hell. Well, I said, that's a matter of taste, but you are a little spitfire. And you want keeping in your place, says she. You black sword, said I, who asked you to teach me? But my breath, says she, is clean, and yours is unclean. You ask all the officers whether my breath is unclean, and ever since then I had it in my mind. Not long ago I was sitting here as I am now, when I saw that very general come in who came here for Easter, and I asked him, your Excellency, said I, can a lady's breath be unpleasant? Yes, he answered, you ought to open a window-pain or open the door, for the air is not fresh here. And they all go on like that. And what is my breath to them? The dead smell worse still. I won't spoil the air, said I, I'll order some slippers and go away. My darlings, don't blame your own mother. Nikolai Ilych, how is it I can't please you? There's only Ilyusha who comes home from school and loves me. Yesterday he brought me an apple. Forgive your own mother, forgive a poor lonely creature. Why has my breath become unpleasant to you? And the poor mad woman broke into sobs, and tears streamed down her cheeks. The captain rushed up to her. Mama, mama, my dear, give over. You are not lonely. Everyone loves you. Everyone adores you. He began kissing both her hands again and tenderly stroking her face. Taking the dinner napkin, he began wiping away her tears. Now Ilyusha fancied that he too had tears in his eyes. There, you see, you hear, he turned with the sort of fury to Ilyusha, pointing to the poor imbecile. I see and hear, muttered Ilyusha. Father, father, how can you, with him? Let him alone, cried the boy, sitting up in his bed and gazing at his father with glowing eyes. Do give over-fooling, showing off your silly antics which never lead to anything, shouted Varvara, stamping her foot with passion. Your anger is quite just this time, Varvara, and I'll make haste to satisfy you. Come, put on your cap, Alexei Fyodorovich, and I'll put on mine. We will go out. I have a word to say to you in earnest but not within these walls. This girl sitting here is my daughter Nina. I forgot to introduce her to you. She is a heavenly angel, incarnate, who has flown down to us mortals, if you can understand. There he is shaking all over as though he is in convulsions, Varvara went on indignantly. And she there stamping her foot at me and calling me a fool, just now, she is a heavenly angel incarnate, too, and she has good reason to call me so. Come along, Alexei Fyodorovich, we must make an end. And, snatching Ilyusha's hand, he drew him out of the room into the street. End of Section 30 Section 31 of the Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoevsky Translated by Constance Garnet This Librivox recording is in the public domain, recording by Bruce Peary. Book 4, Chapter 7. And in the open air The air is fresh, but in my apartment it is not so in any sense of the word. Let us walk slowly, sir. I should be glad of your kind interest. I, too, had something important to say to you, observed Ilyusha, only I don't know how to begin. To be sure you must have business with me. You would never have looked in upon me without some object, unless you come simply to complain of the boy, and that's hardly likely. And, by the way, about the boy, I could not explain to you in there, but here I will describe that scene to you. My toe was thicker a week ago. I mean, my beard. That's the nickname they give to my beard, the school boys, most of all. Well, your brother Dmitri Fyodorovich was pulling me by my beard. I'd done nothing. He was in a towering rage and happened to come upon me. He dragged me out of the tavern into the marketplace. At that moment the boys were coming out of school, and with them Ilyusha. As soon as he saw me in such a state, he rushed up to me. Father, he cried, father, he caught hold of me, hugged me, tried to pull me away, crying to my assailant, let go, let go, it's my father, forgive him. Yes, he actually cried, forgive him. He clutched at that hand, that very hand, in his little hands, and kissed it. I remember his little face at that moment. I haven't forgotten it, and I never shall. I swear, cried Ilyusha, that my brother will express his most deep and sincere regret, even if he has to go down on his knees in that same marketplace. I'll make him, or he is no brother of mine. Aha! Then it's only a suggestion, and it does not come from him, but simply from the generosity of your own warm heart. You should have said so. No, in that case allow me to tell you of your brother's highly chivalrous, soldierly generosity, for he did give expression to it at the time. He left off dragging me by my beard and released me. You are an officer, he said, and I am an officer. If you can find a decent man to be your second, send me your challenge. I will give satisfaction, though you are a scoundrel. That's what he said. A chivalrous spirit indeed. I retired with Ilyusha, and that scene is a family record imprinted forever on Ilyusha's soul. No, it's not for us to claim the privileges of noblemen. Judge for yourself. You've just been in our mansion. What did you see there? Three ladies, one a cripple and weak-minded, another a cripple and hunchback, and the third not crippled but far too clever. She is a student, dying to get back to Petersburg, to work for the emancipation of the Russian woman on the banks of the Neva. I won't speak of Ilyusha, he is only nine. I am alone in the world. And if I die, what will become of all of them? I simply ask you that. And if I challenge him and he kills me on the spot, what then? What will become of them? And worse still, if he doesn't kill me, but only cripples me, I couldn't work, but I should still be a mouth to feed. Who would feed it, and who would feed them all? Must I take Ilyusha from school and send him to beg in the streets? That's what it means for me to challenge him to a duel. It's silly talk, and nothing else. He will beg your forgiveness. He will bow down at your feet in the middle of the marketplace, cried Ilyusha again, with glowing eyes. I did think of prosecuting him, the captain went on. But look in our code. Could I get much compensation for a personal injury? And then Agrifena Alexandrovna sent for me and shouted at me, don't dare to dream of it, if you proceed against him I'll publish it to all the world that he beat you for your dishonesty, and then you will be prosecuted. I call God to witness, whose was the dishonesty, and by whose commands I acted, wasn't it by her own, and Fyodor Pavlovich's? And what's more, she went on, I'll dismiss you for good and you'll never earn another penny from me. I'll speak to my merchant too, and that's what she calls her old man, and he will dismiss you. And if he dismisses me, what can I earn then from any one? Those two are all I have to look to. For your Fyodor Pavlovich has not only given over employing me, for another reason, but he means to make use of papers I've signed to go to law against me. And so I kept quiet, and you have seen our retreat. But now let me ask you, did Ilyusha hurt your finger much? I didn't like to go into it in our mansion before him. Yes, very much, and he was in a great fury. He was avenging you on me as a Karamazov. I see that now. But if only you had seen how he was throwing stones at his school-fellows. It's very dangerous. They might kill him. They are children and stupid. A stone may be thrown and break somebody's head. That's just what has happened. He has been bruised by a stone today, not on the head but on the chest, just above the heart. He came home crying and groaning, and now he is ill. And you know he attacks them first. He is bitter against them on your account. They say he stabbed a boy called Krasotkin with a penknife not long ago. I've heard about that too. It's dangerous. Krasotkin is an official here. We may hear more about it. I would advise you, Ilyusha went on warmly, not to send him to school at all for a time till he is calmer and his anger is past. Anger, the captain repeated. That's just what it is. He's a little creature, but it's a mighty anger. You don't know all, sir. Let me tell you more. Since that incident all the boys have been teasing him about the wisp of tow. Schoolboys are a merciless race. Individually they are angels. But together, especially in schools, they are often merciless. Their teasing has stirred up a gallant spirit in Ilyusha. An ordinary boy, a weak son, would have submitted, have felt ashamed of his father, sir. But he stood up for his father against the law, for his father and for truth and justice. For what he suffered when he kissed your brother's hand and cried to him, forgive father, forgive him, that only God knows, and I, his father. For our children, not your children, but ours, the children of the poor gentleman looked down upon by everyone, know what justice means, sir, even at nine years old. How should the rich know? They don't explore such depths once in their lives. But at that moment in the square when he kissed his hand, at that moment my Ilyusha had grasped all that justice means. That truth entered into him and crushed him forever, sir. The captain said hotly again, with a sort of frenzy, and he struck his right fist against his left palm as though he wanted to show how the truth crushed Ilyusha. That very day, sir, he fell ill with fever and was delirious all night. All that day he hardly said a word to me. But I noticed he kept watching me from the corner, though he turned to the window and pretended to be learning his lessons. But I could see his mind was not on his lessons. Next day I got drunk to forget my troubles, sinful man as I am, and I don't remember much. Mama began crying too. I am very fond of Mama. Well, I spent my last penny drowning my troubles. Don't despise me for that, sir. In Russia men who drink are the best. The best men amongst us are the greatest drunkards. I lay down, and I don't remember about Ilyusha. Though all that day the boys had been cheering at him at school. Wisp of toe, they shouted. Your father was pulled out of the tavern by his wisp of toe. You ran by and begged forgiveness. On the third day, when he came back from school, I saw he looked pale and wretched. What is it, I asked? He wouldn't answer. Well, there's no talking in our mansion without Mama and the girls taking part in it. What's more, the girls had heard about it the very first day. Varvara had begun snarling. You fools and buffoons, can you ever do anything rational? Quite so, I said. Can we ever do anything rational? For the time I turned it off like that, so in the evening I took the boy out for a walk, for you must know we go for a walk every evening, always the same way, along which we are going now, from our gate to that great stone which lies alone in the road under the hurdle, which marks the beginning of the town-pasture, a beautiful and lonely spot, sir. Ilyusha and I walked along hand in hand as usual. He has a little hand, his fingers are thin and cold, he suffers from his chest, you know. Father, said he, Father. Well, said I, I saw his eyes flashing. Father, how he treated you then. It can't be helped, Ilyusha, I said. Don't forgive him, Father, don't forgive him. At school they said that he has paid you ten rubles for it. No, Ilyusha, said I, I would not take money from him for anything. Then he began trembling all over, took my hand in both his and kissed it again. Father, he said, Father, challenge him to a duel. At school they say you are a coward and won't challenge him, and that you will accept ten rubles from him. I can't challenge him to a duel, Ilyusha, I answered, and I told briefly what I've just told you. He listened. Father, he said, Anyway, don't forgive it. When I grow up I'll call him out myself and kill him. His eyes shone and glowed. And, of course, I am his father and I had to put him a word. It's a sin to kill, I said, even in a duel. Father, he said, When I grow up I'll knock him down, knock the sword out of his hand, I'll thaw on him, wave my sword over him, and say, I could kill you, but I forgive you, so there. You see what the workings of his little mind have been during these two days. He must have been planning that vengeance all day, and raving about it at night. But he began to come home from school badly beaten. I found out about it the day before yesterday. And you are right. I won't send him to that school any more. I heard that he was standing up against all the class alone, and defying them all, that his heart was full of resentment, of bitterness. I was alarmed about him. We went for another walk. Father, he asked, Are the rich people stronger than anyone else on earth? Yes, Ilusha, I said. There are no people on earth stronger than the rich. Father, he said, I will get rich. I will become an officer and conquer everybody. The Tsar will reward me. I will come back here, and then no one will dare. Then he was silent, and his lips still kept trembling. Father, he said, What a horrid town this is. Yes, Ilusha, I said. It isn't a very nice town. Father, let us move into another town, a nice one, he said, where people don't know about us. We will move. We will, Ilusha, said I. Only I must save up for it. I was glad to be able to turn his mind from painful thoughts, and we began to dream of how we would move to another town, how we would buy a horse and cart. We will put my mind, your sister's inside. We will cover them up, and we'll walk. You shall have a lift now and then, and I'll walk beside, for we must take care of our horse, we can't all ride. That's how we'll go. He was enchanted at that, most of all at the thought of having a horse and driving him, for, of course, a Russian boy is born among horses. We chattered a long while. Thank God I thought I have diverted his mind and comforted him. That was the day before yesterday, in the evening. But last night everything was changed. He had gone to school in the morning, he came back depressed, terribly depressed. In the evening I took him by the hand, and we went for a walk. He would not talk. There was a wind blowing, and no sun, and a feeling of autumn, twilight was coming on. We walked along, both of us depressed. Well, my boy, said I, how about our setting off on our travels? I thought I might bring him back to our talk of the day before. He didn't answer, but I felt his fingers trembling in my hand. I thought it's a bad job, there's something fresh. We had reached the stone where we are now. I sat down on the stone, and in the air there were lots of kites, flapping and whirling. There were as many as thirty in sight. Of course it's just the season for the kites. Look elucia, said I, it's time we got out our last year's kite again. I'll mend it. Where have you put it away? My boy made no answer. He looked away and turned sideways to me, and then a gust of wind blew up the sand. He suddenly fell on me through both his little arms round my neck and held me tight. You know, when children are silent and proud and try to keep back their tears when they are in great trouble and suddenly break down, their tears fall in streams. With those warm streams of tears he suddenly whetted my face. He sobbed and shook as though he were in convulsions and squeezed up against me as I sat on the stone. Father, he kept crying. Dear Father, how he insulted you. And I sobbed too. We sat shaking in each other's arms. Elucia, I said to him. Elucia darling. No one saw us then. God alone saw us. I hope he will record it to my credit. You must thank your brother, Alexey Fyodorovich. No, sir. I won't thrash my boy for your satisfaction. He had gone back to his original tone of resentful buffoonery. Elucia felt, though, that he trusted him and that if there had been someone else in his Elucia's place the man would not have spoken so openly and would not have told what he had just told. This encouraged Elucia, whose heart was trembling on the verge of tears. Ah, how I would like to make friends with your boy, he cried. If you could arrange it. Certainly, sir, muttered the captain. But now listen to something quite different, Elucia went on. I have a message for you. That same brother of mine, Dmitry, has insulted his betrothed to a noble-hearted girl of whom you have probably heard. I have a right to tell you of her wrong. I ought to do so, in fact. For hearing of the insult done to you and learning all about your unfortunate position, she commissioned me at once, just now, to bring you this help from her, but only from her alone, not from Dmitry, who has abandoned her. Nor from me, his brother, nor from anyone else, but from her, only from her. She entreats you to accept her help. You have both been insulted by the same man. She thought of you only when she had just received a similar insult from him, similar in its cruelty, I mean. She comes like a sister, to help a brother in misfortune. She told me to persuade you to take these two hundred rubles from her as from a sister, knowing that you are in such need. No one will know of it. It can give rise to no unjust slander. There are the two hundred rubles, and I swear you must take them unless all men are to be enemies on earth. But there are brothers even on earth. You have a generous heart. You must see that. You must. And Alyasha held out two new rainbow-coloured hundred rubles notes. They were both standing at the time by the great stone close to the fence, and there was no one near. The notes seemed to produce a tremendous impression on the captain. He started, but at first only from astonishment. Such an outcome of their conversation was the last thing he expected. Nothing could have been farther from his dreams than help from anyone, and such a sum. He took the notes, and for a minute he was almost unable to answer. Quite a new expression came into his face. That for me? So much money! Two hundred rubles! Good heavens! Why, I haven't seen so much money for the last four years. Mercy on us! And she says she is a sister. And is that the truth? I swear that all I have told you is the truth, cried Alyasha. The captain flushed red. Listen, my dear, listen. If I take it, I shan't be behaving like a scoundrel. In your eyes, Alexei Fyodorovich, I shan't be a scoundrel? No, Alexei Fyodorovich, listen, listen. He hurried, touching Alyasha with both his hands. You are persuading me to take it, saying that it's a sister sends it, but inwardly, in your heart, won't you feel contempt for me if I take it, eh? No, no, on my salvation I swear I shan't, and no one will ever know but me, I, you, and she, and one other lady, her great friend. Never mind the lady. Listen, Alexei Fyodorovich, at a moment like this you must listen, for you can't understand what these two hundred rubles mean to me now. The poor fellow went on rising gradually into a sort of incoherent, almost wild enthusiasm. He was thrown off his balance, and talked extremely fast, as though afraid he would not be allowed to say all he had to say. Besides it's being honestly acquired from a sister, so highly respected and revered, do you know that now I can look after Mama and Nina, my hunchback angel daughter. Dr. Herzenstuba came to me in the kindness of his heart, and was examining them both for a whole hour. I can make nothing of it, said he, but he prescribed a mineral water which is kept at a chemist's here. He said it would be sure to do her good, and he ordered baths, too, with some medicine in them. The mineral water costs thirty copax, and she'd need to drink forty bottles perhaps, so I took the prescription and laid it on the shelf under the icons, and there it lies. And he ordered hot baths for Nina, with something dissolved in them morning and evening. But how can we carry out such a cure in our mansion, without servants, without help, without a bath, and without water? Nina is romantic all over—I don't think I told you that. All her right side aches at night, she is an agony, and would you believe it, the angel bears it without groaning for fear of waking us? We eat what we can get, and she'll only take the leavings, what you'd scarcely give to a dog. I am not worth it, I am taking it from you, I am a burden on you—that's what her angel eyes try to express. We wait on her, but she doesn't like it. I am a useless cripple, no good to any one, as though she were not worth it, when she is the saving of all of us with her angelic sweetness. Without her, without her gentle word, it would be hell among us. She softens even Varvara, and don't judge Varvara harshly either. She is an angel too, she too has suffered wrong. She came to us for the summer, and she brought sixteen rubles she had earned by lessons, and saved up, to go back with to Petersburg in September. That is now, but we took her money and lived on it, so now she has nothing to go back with, though indeed she couldn't go back, for she has to work for us like a slave. She is like an overdriven horse with all of us on her back. She waits on us all, mens and washes, sweeps the floor, puts Mama to bed, and Mama is capricious and tearful and insane. And now I can get a servant with this money, you understand, Alexei Fyodorovich? I can get medicines for the dear creatures, I can send my student to Petersburg, I can buy beef, I can feed them properly. Good Lord, but it's a dream! Alyosha was delighted that he had brought him such happiness, and that the poor fellow had consented to be made happy. Stay, Alexei Fyodorovich, stay! The captain began to talk with frenzied rapidity, carried away by a new daydream. Do you know that Ilyusha and I will perhaps really carry out our dream? We will buy a horse and cart, a black horse, he insists on it being black, and we will set off as we pretended the other day. I have an old friend, a lawyer in Kaye province, and I heard through a trustworthy man that if I were to go he'd give me a place as clerk in his office, so who knows, maybe he would. So I'd just put Mama and Nina in the cart, and Ilyusha could drive, and I'd walk, I'd walk. Why, if I only succeed in getting one debt paid that's owing me, I should have perhaps enough for that, too. There would be enough, cried Alyusha. Katerina Ivanovna will send you as much more as you need, and you know I have money too, take what you want, as you would from a brother, from a friend, you could give it back later. You'll get rich, you'll get rich! And you know you couldn't have a better idea than to move to another province, it would be the saving of you, especially if you're boy, and you ought to go quickly, before the winter, before the cold. You must write to us when you are there, and we will always be brothers. No, it's not a dream. Alyusha could have hugged him, he was so pleased, but glancing at him, he stopped short. The man was standing with his neck outstretched, and his lips protruding, with a pale and frenzied face. His lips were moving, as though trying to articulate something. No sound came, but still his lips moved, it was uncanny. What is it? asked Alyusha, startled. Alexey Fyodorovich, I—you—muttered the captain, faltering, looking at him with a strange, wild, fixed stare, and an air of desperate resolution. At the same time there was a sort of grin on his lips. I—you, sir, wouldn't you like me to show you a little trick, I know? He murmured, suddenly in a firm rapid whisper, his voice no longer faltering. What trick? A pretty trick! whispered the captain, his mouth was twisted on the left side, his left eye was screwed up, he still stared at Alyusha. What is the matter? What trick? Alyusha cried, now thoroughly alarmed. Why, look! squealed the captain, suddenly, and showing him the two notes which he had been holding by one corner between his thumb and forefinger during the conversation. He crumpled them up, savagely, and squeezed them tight in his right hand. Do you see? Do you see? he shrieked, pale and infuriated, and suddenly flinging up his hand he threw the crumpled notes on the sand. Do you see? he shrieked again, pointing to them. Look there! And with wild fury he began trampling them under his heel, gasping and exclaiming, as he did so, so much for your money, so much for your money, so much for your money, so much for your money. Suddenly he darted back and drew himself up before Alyusha, and his whole figure expressed unutterable pride. Tell those who sent you that the wisp of toad does not sell his honour. He cried, raising his arm in the air. Then he turned quickly and began to run, but he had not run five steps before he turned completely round, and kissed his hand to Alyusha. He ran another five paces, and then turned round for the last time. This time his face was not contorted with laughter, but quivering all over with tears. In a tearful, faltering, sobbing voice he cried, What should I say to my boy if I took money from you for our shame? And then he ran on without turning. Alyusha looked after him, inexpressibly grieved. Oh, he saw that till the very last moment the man had not known he would crumple up and fling away the notes. He did not turn back. Alyusha knew he would not. He would not follow him and call him back. He knew why. When he was out of sight Alyusha picked up the two notes. They were very much crushed and crumpled and had been pressed into the sand, but were uninjured and even rustled like new ones when Alyusha unfolded them and smoothed them out. After smoothing them out he folded them up, put them in his pocket, and went to Katarina Ivanovna to report on the success of her commission. End of section 31