The Karamazov Brothers

by Fyodor Dostoevsky

  ‘Oh, it doesn’t matter, of course it doesn’t matter! Forgive me, my dear Alyosha… You know, up to now I wasn’t sure I really respected you… that is, I respected you, but as an equal, and now I shall respect you and look up to you. Dear Alyosha, don’t be angry with me for joking,’ she added at once, passionately. ‘I’m young and silly, but you, you… Listen, Aleksei Fyodorovich, isn’t there in all our reasoning, that is to say, your… no, it’s better to say “our” reasoning… isn’t there some kind of condescension towards him, towards this unfortunate man… in the patronizing way we bare his soul? In the way we’re so certain he’ll take the money?’

  ‘No, Lise, not condescension,’ Alyosha answered firmly, as if he had been prepared for this question. ‘I already thought about that on my way here. Think about it. What condescension can there be when we ourselves are like him, when everyone’s like him. Because, after all, we’re all like him, we’re no better. And even if we were better, we’d be just the same in his situation… I don’t know about you, Lise, but in my own case I think I have in many ways a shallow soul. But his isn’t shallow, rather it’s sensitive… No, Lise, there’s no condescension towards him in this! You know, Lise, my starets once said: “Mostly you have to look after people like you do children, and some you have to look after like patients in hospital”…’

  ‘Oh, Aleksei Fyodorovich, oh, my dear Alyosha, let’s look after people like patients!’

  ‘Yes, Lise, let’s do that. I think I’m ready, but I’m not really ready; sometimes I’m very impatient, and at other times I don’t see what’s staring me in the face. You’re quite different.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t believe it! Aleksei Fyodorovich, I’m so happy!’

  ‘I’m so happy that you say that, Lise.’

  ‘Aleksei Fyodorovich, you’re unbelievably good, but sometimes you’re a bit of a pedant… and yet, when one looks closer, you’re not pedantic at all. Go to the door and have a look, open it quietly and see if mama’s listening,’ Lise’s voice suddenly dropped to a sort of nervous, hurried whisper.

  Alyosha went to the door, opened it a crack, and reported that there was no one there.

  ‘Come here, Aleksei Fyodorovich,’ Lise continued, blushing, ‘give me your hand, that’s right. Listen, I have to make a big confession to you. When I wrote that letter yesterday I wasn’t joking, I was serious…’, and she covered her eyes with her hand. It was obvious that confessing this embarrassed her greatly. Suddenly she seized his hand and hurriedly planted three kisses on it.

  ‘Oh, Lise, that’s marvellous,’ exclaimed Alyosha delightedly, ‘and you know, I was quite certain you were serious.’

  ‘“Certain”, well imagine that!’ she suddenly pushed his hand away but did not release it, blushed crimson, and gave a happy little laugh. ‘I kiss his hand, and all he says is “That’s marvellous.”’ But her reproach was unfair; Alyosha too was deeply embarrassed.

  ‘I would like to please you always, Lise, but I don’t know how to do it,’ he muttered, also blushing.

  ‘Alyosha, my dear, you’re cold and presumptuous. How shall I put it? He condescends to choose me for his spouse and thinks nothing of it! Fancy being certain I was serious when I wrote that! If that’s not presumptuous, what is!’

  ‘Surely it wasn’t wrong of me to be certain, was it?’ Alyosha began to laugh.

  ‘Oh, Alyosha, on the contrary, you were absolutely right,’ Lise said, casting him a look of tenderness and happiness. Alyosha stood there, still keeping his hand in hers. Suddenly he bent over and kissed her right on the lips.

  ‘Whatever next? What’s come over you?’ exclaimed Lise. Alyosha was overcome with confusion.

  ‘Forgive me if I shouldn’t have… Perhaps I’m terribly stupid… You said I was cold, so I kissed you… only now I see that it misfired…’

  Lise collapsed into laughter and hid her face in her hands.

  ‘And in that dress!’ she burst out between peals of laughter, but suddenly checked herself and became quite serious, almost severe.

  ‘Now, Alyosha, the kissing can wait, because neither of us knows how, and we’ll have a long time to wait,’ she concluded suddenly. ‘It’d be better if you told me why you want to marry me, such a silly little fool, such a silly little invalid, and you so clever, so thoughtful, so observant. Oh, Alyosha, I’m terribly happy, but I’m not worthy of you!’

  ‘Yes, you are, Lise. In a few days I’ll be leaving the monastery for good. Once I’m back in the world I’ll have to marry, I know that. He told me that. Who could I find better than you… and who but you would have me? I’ve already thought about it. In the first place, you’ve known me since childhood, and then, secondly, you have many qualities that I totally lack. You have a happier nature than I have and, most importantly, you’re more innocent than me; I’ve already experienced so much in my life, so much… Oh, you don’t know the half of it; after all, I too am a Karamazov! What if you do laugh and make fun, even of me; I don’t mind, on the contrary I’m happy… But you laugh like a little girl, while inside you have the thoughts of one who has suffered…’

  ‘“One who has suffered”? What do you mean?’

  ‘Yes, Lise; for example, the question you posed a little while ago—wasn’t there something condescending about the way we were dissecting the soul of that poor unfortunate man?—only someone who’s suffered would ask such a question… you see, I don’t know how to express it, but someone who thinks of questions like that is someone who’s capable of suffering. Sitting in your invalid chair, you must have thought about a lot of things…’

  ‘Alyosha, give me your hand, why have you taken it away?’ said Lise feebly, her voice overcome with happiness. ‘Listen, Alyosha, what will you wear when you leave the monastery, what clothes? Don’t laugh and don’t be angry, it’s very important to me.’

  ‘As to clothes, Lise, I haven’t thought about that yet, but I’ll wear whatever you want me to.’

  ‘I want you to wear a dark-blue velvet jacket, a white piqué waistcoat, and a soft, fluffy, grey felt hat… Tell me, when I denied what I said in my letter yesterday, did you think I didn’t love you?’

  ‘No, I didn’t think that.’

  ‘Oh, you unbearable man, you’re incorrigible!’

  ‘You see, I knew you loved me… well, I thought you did, but I pretended to believe you, to believe that you didn’t, to… make things easier for you…’

  ‘That’s even worse! Both worse and best of all. Alyosha, I love you terribly. Just now, when I was waiting for you, I said to myself, “I’ll ask him for the letter I sent yesterday, and if he calmly takes it out and gives it to me (as one might expect him to), that will mean that he doesn’t love me at all, that he feels nothing for me, that he’s just a foolish, unworthy youth, and I shall die.” But you left the letter in your cell, and that reassured me. It’s true, isn’t it, that you left the letter in your cell because you guessed that I would ask for it back. You wanted to avoid giving it back, didn’t you? It’s true, isn’t it?’

  ‘Oh, Lise, it wasn’t like that at all. I’ve got the letter with me now, and I had it all along; here it is in this pocket, here you are.’

  Laughing, Alyosha took out the letter and showed it to her from a distance.

  ‘Only I’m not going to give it back to you. You can look from there.’

  ‘So you were lying before—a monk, and you lied?’

  Well, I suppose I was lying,’ laughed Alyosha. ‘I lied so as not to give you the letter. It’s very dear to me,’ he added, suddenly blushing again with emotion. ‘It’s mine for ever now, and I’ll never give it to anyone!’

  Lise gazed at him in admiration.

  ‘Alyosha,’ she murmured suddenly, ‘have a look and see if mama’s listening.’

  ‘All right, Lise, I’ll have a look, but wouldn’t it be better not to look? Why do you suspect your mother of such shameful behaviour?’

  ‘Shameful? How is it shameful? To eavesdrop on her daughter is her
right; it isn’t shameful,’ Lise retorted. ‘Rest assured, Aleksei Fyodorovich, that when I’m a mother and I have such a daughter, I shall certainly eavesdrop on her.’

  ‘Surely not, Lise. That’s not nice.’

  ‘Oh, my God, where’s the harm in it? If it were some ordinary sort of conversation and I eavesdropped, that would be shameful, but here’s my own daughter closeted with a young man… Listen, Alyosha, you may as well know that I shall eavesdrop on you too as soon as we are married and, what’s more, I shall open all your letters and read everything… So, you have been warned…’

  ‘Yes, of course, in that case…’, muttered Alyosha. ‘Still, it isn’t nice…’

  ‘Oh, don’t be silly! Alyosha, dear, let’s not quarrel right from the start. It’s better that I tell you the truth; of course, it’s very bad to listen at doors—I’m wrong and you’re right—but all the same I shall listen.’

  ‘Do! You won’t be able to catch me out in anything,’ laughed Alyosha.

  ‘And, Alyosha, will you do what I tell you? We have to decide that beforehand as well.’

  ‘Willingly, Lise, of course, only not when it comes to essentials. In that case, even if you don’t agree with me, I shall still do what my duty dictates.’

  ‘That’s as it should be. I, on the other hand, am ready to obey you not only in essentials but in everything, I’ll do as you tell me in all things, and I give you my word on that now—in all things and for my whole life,’ Lise cried passionately, ‘and I shall do so happily! What’s more, I swear to you that I shall never eavesdrop on you, never, not once, not one letter of yours will I open, because you’re right and I’m wrong. And although I shall be terribly tempted to listen at doors I shall not do so, because you consider it dishonourable. You are now my guiding light… Listen, Aleksei Fyodorovich, why have you been so sad the last few days, yesterday and today? I know you have troubles, that you have problems, but I can see that you have some other, special sadness, a secret grief perhaps?’

  ‘Yes, Lise, I have a secret grief,’ Alyosha said sadly. ‘I can see you love me, since you guessed that.’

  ‘What is it? What are you sad about? Can’t you tell me?’ Lise pleaded timidly.

  ‘I’ll tell you later, Lise… later…’, Alyosha said, troubled. ‘Just now I don’t think you’d be able to understand. Perhaps I wouldn’t even know how to explain it to you.’

  ‘I know too that you’re worried to death about your brothers and your father.’

  ‘Brothers, yes, that too,’ said Alyosha thoughtfully.

  ‘I don’t like your brother Ivan Fyodorovich,’ Lise remarked suddenly.

  Alyosha noted this remark with some surprise, but let it pass.

  ‘My brothers are destroying themselves, and so is my father. And they’re destroying others along with themselves. It’s a kind of elemental force in the Karamazovs, as Father Païsy put it, elemental and frenzied, primitive… I wonder even whether there is a divine spirit watching over that force. I only know that I too am a Karamazov. I’m a monk—a monk? Am I a monk, Lise? You said a moment ago that I was a monk, didn’t you?’

  ‘Yes, I did.’

  ‘And yet perhaps I don’t even believe in God.’

  ‘You don’t believe! What’s the matter with you?’ Lise said quietly and cautiously. But Alyosha did not answer. There was in this spontaneous statement of his something too mysterious, too subjective, something not clear, perhaps, even to himself, but which was undoubtedly tormenting him.

  ‘And now, on top of all that, my dearest friend is leaving us; the greatest man on earth is leaving this world. If you only knew, Lise, if you only knew how I am bound, indissolubly linked in spirit to that man! And now I shall be alone in the world… I shall come to you, Lise… From now on we’ll be together…’

  ‘Yes, together, together! From now on, always together for the rest of our lives. Listen, kiss me, I give you permission.’

  Alyosha kissed her.

  ‘Now go. Christ be with you!’ And she made the sign of the cross over him. ‘Quickly, go to him while he’s still alive. I can see that it’s cruel to keep you. I’ll pray for him and for you today. Alyosha, we will be happy! We will be happy, won’t we?’

  ‘I think we will, Lise.’

  When he left Lise, Alyosha saw no need to say goodbye to Mrs Khokhlakova, and he was about to set off for home without taking leave of her. But scarcely had he opened the door and stepped out on to the landing than there appeared before him, from he knew not where, Mrs Khokhlakova in person. Alyosha guessed straight away that she had deliberately been lying in wait for him there.

  ‘Aleksei Fyodorovich, this is dreadful. This is juvenile nonsense and quite ridiculous. I hope you’re not seriously presuming… It’s so utterly silly, it really is,’ she said, rushing up to him.

  ‘Don’t say that to her, whatever you do,’ said Alyosha, ‘or she’ll get upset, which is bad for her at present.’

  ‘Sensible words from a sensible young man. Am I to understand that you went along with her only out of consideration for her delicate state of health, not wanting to make her angry by contradicting her?’

  ‘No, certainly not. I was absolutely serious in what I said to her,’ said Alyosha firmly.

  ‘It is unthinkable that you should be serious. In the first place, I shall not invite you again, and in the second place, you’d better know that I’m leaving and taking her with me.’

  ‘But why?’ said Alyosha, ‘after all, it’s still a long way off, we’ll have to wait perhaps a year and a half.’

  ‘Ah, Aleksei Fyodorovich, of course that’s true, and in a year and a half you will have a thousand chances to quarrel and separate. But I’m so miserable, so miserable! All this may well be just childish nonsense, but it has crushed me. Now I’m like Famusov* in his last scene, you’re Chatsky, she’s Sofia, and… imagine, I deliberately ran out here on to the stairs to intercept you, and in the play too all the significant events take place on the staircase. I heard everything and could hardly contain myself. So that’s the explanation of all last night’s horrors and all the recent tantrums! To the daughter, love; and to the mother, death. Lay her in her grave. Now we come to the second and the most important thing! What’s all this about a letter she wrote you? Show it to me now, at once, straight away!’

  ‘No, it’s none of your business. Tell me, how is Katerina Ivanovna? I really must know.’

  ‘She’s still delirious, she hasn’t regained consciousness; her aunts are here, and they just tut-tut and give themselves airs in front of me, and Herzenstube came and got into such a state that I didn’t know how to help him or what to do; I even thought about getting him a doctor. They took him away in my carriage. And now suddenly on top of everything, you turn up with this letter. Admittedly, none of this will be for a year and a half yet. In the name of all that’s great and holy, in the name of your dying starets, show me the letter, Aleksei Fyodorovich; show it to me, I’m her mother! Don’t let it out of your hands if you like, and I’ll read it while you hold it.’

  ‘No, I shall not show it to you, Katerina Osipovna, even if she’d let me, I wouldn’t show it to you. I’ll come tomorrow and, if you wish, I’ll have a long talk with you then, but for now—goodbye!’

  And Alyosha ran out of the hallway into the street.

  2

  SMERDYAKOV WITH A GUITAR

  BESIDES, he did not have time. An idea had suddenly occurred to him even while he was saying goodbye to Lise, an idea as to the best way of catching Dmitry, who was clearly avoiding him. It was already quite late, about three in the afternoon. Every fibre of Alyosha’s being urged him towards the monastery, towards his dying ‘idol’, but the urgent need to see Dmitry overcame everything else; in Alyosha’s mind the conviction that a terrible, inescapable catastrophe was imminent was growing with every passing hour. Exactly what form the catastrophe would take, or what he wanted to say to his brother at this moment, was perhaps not clear even to himself. ‘Let my ment
or die without me, but at least I shan’t reproach myself all my life that I could have saved someone and didn’t, that I passed by on the other side and hurried home. In doing this, I’m carrying out his great command…’

  His plan was to catch Dmitry unawares: he would climb over the wattle fence into the garden, as he had done the day before, and sit in the summer-house. ‘If he isn’t there,’ thought Alyosha, ‘I’ll hide there without saying anything to Foma or to the owners, and I’ll wait there till evening if need be. If he’s still watching for Grushenka to arrive, then he’ll most probably come to the summer-house…’ Alyosha had not actually considered his plan in much detail, but he decided to carry it out, although it would mean that he would be unable to go to the monastery that day…

  Everything went without a hitch; he climbed over the fence at almost exactly the same place as before and slipped into the summer-house unobserved. He did not want to be seen; both the owner’s wife and Foma (if he was there) might take his brother’s side, accede to his request, and then might not let Alyosha into the garden or, alternatively, they might warn Dmitry that Alyosha was asking questions and looking for him. There was no one in the summer-house. Alyosha sat down on the same seat as the day before and began to wait. He looked around inside the summer-house. It seemed, for some reason, much shabbier than before; today it seemed to him really dilapidated. The day, however, was just as bright. The green table bore a circular stain that could have been from yesterday’s spilt brandy. As always during tedious periods of waiting, empty and inappropriate thoughts crept into his mind; why, for example, on entering, had he sat in exactly the same spot as the day before, and not in any other? In the end he began to feel downcast, with a sadness that stemmed from a worrying uncertainty. But he had not been sitting there a quarter of an hour when he heard, from somewhere very close by, the sound of chords being played on a guitar. Someone was sitting, or had just sat down, among the bushes, about twenty paces from him at the most. Alyosha suddenly remembered that the previous day, as he was leaving his brother, he had glimpsed a small green bench among the bushes, not more than twenty paces to his left. Probably there were people sitting there now. But who? A man’s voice began to sing in a sweet falsetto to the accompaniment of a guitar: