‘What? What? When?’ Alyosha was dumbfounded. He did not sit down again, but stood still and listened.
‘I’ll tell you all about it, perhaps that’s precisely why I sent for you, because I don’t really know why I asked for you to come. Well now: Ivan Fyodorovich has been to see me just twice since his return from Moscow, the first time was a courtesy visit, and the second time, this was quite recently, I had Katya with me, and he came because he had discovered that she was here. It goes without saying, there is no reason why I should expect regular visits from him, especially knowing how preoccupied he must be, as it is—vous comprenez, cette affaire et la mort terrible de votre papa*—and suddenly I learn that he had been again—only not to see me, but to see Lise—it must have been about six days ago, he came, stayed about five minutes, and then left. I only found out about it three days later, from Glafira, so it came as quite a shock. I immediately questioned Lise, but she just laughed: she said he thought I was asleep and he popped into her room to enquire after my health. Of course, that’s just how it was. Only Lise, Lise, O God, she does worry me so! Imagine, suddenly one night—this was four days ago, straight after you’d been here last time and you’d gone—suddenly, in the middle of the night, she had a fit of hysterics, yelling, shrieking, a real tantrum! Why do I never have hysterics? Another tantrum the next day, and again two days later, and yet another one yesterday, and now this diminished responsibility. Suddenly she yelled out, “I hate that Ivan Fyodorovich, I demand that you never receive him again, you must ban him from the house!” It was so unexpected I nearly fainted, and I said, “Why on earth should I turn away such a worthy young man who, apart from anything else, is so erudite and has to bear such misfortune!” Because, let’s face it, all these stories one hears these days—it’s misfortune pure and simple, wouldn’t you agree? She burst out laughing at what I said, and you know it was so rude of her. Well, I thought, I’m glad I’ve made her laugh, that’ll be the end of her hysterics; anyway, I myself wanted to stop Ivan Fyodorovich coming to the house and to demand an explanation for his unauthorized mysterious visits. And then suddenly Lise woke up this morning, flew into a rage at Yulia and, can you imagine, slapped her face. That’s monstrous, I always say please and thank you to my girls. Then, barely an hour later, she was hugging Yulia and kissing her feet. And she sent me a message saying that she wasn’t going to come to my room and that she never wanted to see me again, and then, when I dragged myself over to her room, she threw her arms round me, kissing me and crying, and then just pushed me away without a word, so I was none the wiser. Now, my kind Aleksei Fyodorovich, all my hopes rest on you, and of course my whole fate is in your hands. I’m asking you just to go to Lise, try and prise it all out of her, as only you know how, and then come back and tell me—me, her mother, because, you understand, I shall die, I shall simply die if this continues, or I’ll just walk out of the door and won’t come back. I can’t stand it any longer, I’m a patient woman but there’s a limit to my patience, and then… it just doesn’t bear thinking about. Oh, thank God, Pyotr Ilyich at last!’ Mrs Khokhlakova exclaimed, suddenly brightening up as Pyotr Ilyich Perkhotin entered. ‘You’re late, you’re late! Well now, do sit down, tell me what’s going to happen, what did the lawyer have to say? Aleksei Fyodorovich, where are you off to?’
‘To see Lise.’
‘Oh yes! So you won’t forget, will you, what I asked you about? It’s my fate, my fate is hanging in the balance!’
‘Of course I shan’t forget, if I can… but I mustn’t keep her waiting any longer,’ mumbled Alyosha, beating a hasty retreat.
‘Whatever you do, don’t forget to see me before you leave, and no ifs or buts about it, or I’ll die!’ Mrs Khokhlakova shouted after him, but Alyosha had already left the room.
3
LITTLE SHE-DEVIL
WHEN he entered Lise’s room, he found her reclining in the invalid chair in which she had been wheeled around while still unable to walk. She made not the slightest attempt to sit up, but her clear, sharp gaze simply bored into him. The look in her eyes was somewhat feverish, her face was wan and sallow. Alyosha was astounded at how much she had changed in three days; she even seemed thinner. She did not offer him her hand. He bent down to touch her long, thin fingers, lying motionless on her dress, then he sat down opposite her.
‘I know you’re in a hurry to get to the prison,’ Lise said sharply, ‘and you’ve been held up by mother for the last couple of hours, she’s just been telling you about Yulia and me.’
‘How did you know?’ asked Alyosha.
‘I was eavesdropping. Why are you staring at me? If I want to eavesdrop, I will eavesdrop, there’s nothing wrong with that. I don’t need to apologize.’
‘Are you upset about something?’
‘On the contrary, I’m glad. I was saying to myself just now, for the umpteenth time, how fortunate it was that I’d turned you down and that I’m not going to be your wife. You’re not fit to be a husband—if I were to marry you, I might hand you a note one day to take to the man I’d subsequently fallen in love with, and you’d take it and deliver it without fail, you’d even return with his reply. And even at the age of forty, you’d still be acting as my errand boy.’
Suddenly she burst out laughing.
‘There’s something vicious and yet at the same time naïve about you,’ said Alyosha, smiling at her.
‘The reason you think I’m naïve is that I’m not embarrassed in front of you. And not only am I not embarrassed, but I don’t want to be embarrassed either, especially in front of you, you of all people. Alyosha, why have I got no respect for you? I love you very much, but I don’t respect you. If I respected you, I wouldn’t have spoken like that without feeling embarrassed, would I?’
‘Quite.’
‘And do you believe that I’m not embarrassed in front of you?’
‘No, I don’t.’
Lise gave a nervous laugh again, and started to speak in a rush.
‘I’ve sent some sweets to your brother Dmitry Fyodorovich in prison. Alyosha, do you know, you’re so lovely! I shall love you terribly for so readily not letting me love you.’
‘Why did you want to see me today, Lise?’
‘I want to tell you about a craving I have. I want some man to abuse me—marry me and then abuse me, deceive me, go away and desert me. I don’t want to be happy!’
‘Have you developed a passion for anarchy?’
‘Oh, I long for anarchy. I’d love to burn the house down. I can just imagine stealing up and setting fire to it without anyone seeing me, without anyone knowing. Everybody trying to put it out, and the house just burning down. And I’d just stand there and wouldn’t breathe a word. Oh, it’s silly really! And such a bore, too!’
She waved her hand in disgust.
‘You’re too well off,’ Alyosha said softly.
‘Do you suppose it’d be better to be poor?’
‘It would.’
‘You’ve been listening too much to what that monk of yours had to say when he was alive. It’s not true. If I were rich and everybody else were poor, I’d still keep eating sweets and cream, and I shouldn’t give any of it to anyone. Oh, don’t, don’t say anything,’ she made an admonitory gesture, although Alyosha had not even opened his mouth, ‘you’ve already told me all that, I know it all by heart. It’s a bore. If I were poor, I’d kill someone—and if I were rich, I might kill someone just the same—why sit and do nothing? You know, I want to work in the fields at harvest time and reap rye. I’ll marry you, and you’ll become a muzhik, a real muzhik, we’ll have a pony, would you like that? Do you know Kalganov?’
‘Yes.’
‘He just wanders about and daydreams. He says: why live in the real world? It’s better to daydream. You can dream up the most exciting things, whereas life’s such a bore. And, you know, he’ll be getting married soon, he’s even declared his love for me. Can you spin a top?’
‘Yes.’
‘That’s
how I think of him, a whipping-top that you set spinning and then whip and whip and keep on whipping. I’ll marry him and keep him spinning all my life. You’re not embarrassed to be here with me, are you?’
‘No.’
‘You must be terribly annoyed that I’m not talking about holy things. I don’t want to be holy. I wonder what they’d do to someone in the next world for committing the worst sin there is? I bet you know exactly.’
‘God will judge,’ Alyosha looked at her hard.
‘That’s just how I’d want it. I’d get there, I’d be judged, and suddenly I’d burst out laughing in their faces. I really do want to burn the house down, Alyosha, our house, you still don’t believe me, do you?’
‘Why shouldn’t I? There are even children who, when they’re about twelve, can’t resist starting a fire, and they go ahead and do it. It’s a sort of illness.’
‘That’s not true, not true, there may be such children, but that’s not what I’m talking about.’
‘You are confusing good and evil; it’s a momentary crisis, perhaps your former illness is to blame for it.’
‘You despise me, don’t you? I simply don’t want to do good, I want to do evil, and it’s nothing to do with my illness.’
‘Why do evil?’
‘So that there shouldn’t be anything left anywhere. Oh, wouldn’t it be nice if there were nothing left! You know, Alyosha, sometimes I want to do an awful lot of evil and all sorts of nasty things, and keep doing them secretly for a long time, and then suddenly to have everyone find out. They’d all crowd round, pointing at me, while I’d just keep staring back at them. It’d be jolly nice. Why should it be jolly nice, Alyosha?’
‘No particular reason. A need to destroy something good or, as you said, to burn something down. That does happen, too.’
‘I wasn’t just talking, I shall do it.’
‘I believe you.’
‘Oh, I really love you for saying that. And I know you’re not lying, not one little bit. But perhaps you think I’m doing it on purpose, just to tease you?’
‘No, I don’t think so… although, perhaps, there may be a little of that in you too.’
‘Yes, a little. I’ll never lie to you,’ she said, with a glint in her eyes.
Alyosha was astounded most of all by her seriousness: there was not a trace of levity or frivolity in her expression, although hitherto she never used to lose her cheerfulness and sense of fun, even at her most ‘serious’ moments.
‘There are moments when people love crime,’ Alyosha observed thoughtfully.
‘Quite, quite! You’ve read my thoughts, they love it, indeed they do, everyone loves it, they love it all the time, it’s not just a question of “moments”. You know, it’s as though everyone had suddenly conspired to tell lies, and they’ve been lying ever since. Everyone says they hate wickedness, but, deep down, they all love it.’
‘And you still persist in reading improper books?’
‘Yes. Mother reads them and hides them under her pillow, and I sneak them.’
‘Aren’t you ashamed of destroying yourself?’
‘I want to destroy myself. There’s a local boy who lay down between the railway tracks and let the train pass over him. Lucky thing! Listen, your brother is being tried now for murdering his father, and everybody loves the fact that he murdered his father.’
‘They love him for murdering his father?’
‘Yes, they do, everyone does! Everyone says it’s terrible, but, deep down, they simply love it. Me especially.’
‘There’s a grain of truth in what you say about people,’ Alyosha said softly.
‘Fancy you admitting things like that!’ shrieked Lise ecstatically. ‘And you a monk! You’ve no idea how much I respect you, Alyosha, for never ever telling a lie. I’m going to tell you a funny dream I had: I sometimes see devils in my dreams, it’s nighttime and I’m in my room with a candle, and suddenly there are devils everywhere, in every corner, under the table, they open the door and there’s a whole throng of them outside and they all want to come in and possess me. And they’re getting closer to me and are already reaching out for me. And suddenly I make the sign of the cross and they all shrink back, fearful, only they won’t leave altogether, but remain standing by the door and in the corners, waiting. And suddenly I get this terrible urge to scold God out loud, and I begin to scold Him, and back they all rush at me, in a crowd, delighted, and they nearly get me in their clutches again, and suddenly I make the sign of the cross once more—and back they all go again. It’s great fun, and awfully exciting.’
‘I used to have the same dream,’ Alyosha said.
‘Really?’ exclaimed Lise in surprise. ‘Listen, Alyosha, don’t laugh, this is terribly important: is it really possible for two different people to have the same dream?’
‘Yes, apparently.’
‘Alyosha, I’m telling you, this really is important,’ continued Lise, still overwhelmed with astonishment. ‘It’s not the dream that’s important, but that you should have had the same dream as me. You never lie to me, don’t lie to me now: is it true? You’re not making fun of me?’
‘It’s true.’
Lise’s astonishment knew no bounds, and she was momentarily silent.
‘Alyosha, don’t stop coming to see me, come more often,’ she said at last, pleadingly.
‘I’ll always come to see you, I’ll come to see you all my life long,’ Alyosha replied firmly.
‘You’re the only person I can confide in,’ Lise began again. ‘I can be honest with myself, and with you. With you and with no one else in the whole world. I’m more ready to admit things to you than I am to myself. And I’m not in the least bit embarrassed in front of you. Alyosha, why is it I’m not embarrassed in front of you, not one little bit? Alyosha, is it true the Jews kidnap children at Easter-time and slaughter them?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘I’ve got a book here, in which I read about a court case somewhere or other; a Jew first cut off all the fingers on both hands of a four-year-old boy, then crucified him against a wall, nailed him down with nails, like on the cross, and he said later, at his trial, that the boy had died a quick death, in four hours. That’s meant to be quick! He said the boy kept groaning, groaning all the time, while he just stood back and admired his handiwork. Don’t you think that’s good!’
‘Good?’
‘Yes. I sometimes think it was me who crucified the child. He’s hanging there, groaning, and I’m sitting opposite enjoying some pineapple compote. I simply love pineapple compote. What about you?’
Alyosha continued to look at her in silence. Her pale, sallow face suddenly contorted and her eyes flashed.
‘You know, after I read about that Jew, I couldn’t stop crying all night long. I could just picture the child crying, groaning—four-year-old children understand things, you know—and then there was this pineapple compote that I couldn’t get out of my mind. In the morning I sent a letter to a certain individual, asking him to call on me without fail. He did, and I told him about the boy and the compote, I told him everything, everything, and I said “that’s good”. He suddenly burst out laughing and said that it was indeed good. Then he got up and left. He only stayed five minutes. Do you think he despises me, do you? Say something, Alyosha, say something, does he despise me or doesn’t he?’ She was sitting up in her chair and her eyes were shining.
‘Tell me,’ said Alyosha, agitated, ‘did you send for this man yourself?’
‘Yes.’
‘You sent him a letter?’
‘Yes.’
‘To ask him specifically about the child?’
‘No, not about that, not at all. But as soon as he walked in, I asked him about it straight away. He answered, burst out laughing, got up, and left.’
‘That man was honest with you,’ said Alyosha softly.
‘He despises me though! He was laughing at me, wasn’t he?’
‘No, because he himself maybe believe
s in pineapple compote. He, too, is very sick now, Lise.’
‘Yes, he believes in it!’ Lise’s eyes flashed.
‘He doesn’t despise anyone,’ continued Alyosha. ‘It’s just that he doesn’t believe anyone. If he doesn’t believe anyone, then it means, of course, he despises everyone.’
‘Including me? Me too?’
‘Yes, you too.’
‘That’s good,’ said Lise through clenched teeth. ‘When he burst out laughing and left, I felt that it was good to be despised. It was good that the little boy had his fingers cut off, and it was good to be despised…’
And looking Alyosha straight in the eyes, she burst out laughing spitefully and hysterically.
‘You know, Alyosha, you know, I wish I’d… Alyosha, save me!’ She suddenly jumped to her feet, rushed towards him, and flung her arms around his neck. ‘Save me,’ she wailed. ‘Do you suppose I’d have told anyone in the world what I’ve told you? And I was telling the truth, the truth, I really was telling the truth! I’m going to kill myself, because I’m sick of everything! I don’t want to go on living, because everything makes me sick! I’m sick of everything, everything! Alyosha, you don’t love me at all, you don’t love me in the least!’ she finished in a frenzy.
‘I do love you!’ replied Alyosha passionately.
‘And will you cry for me, will you?’
‘I will.’
‘Not because I don’t want to be your wife, but just cry for me, simply for the sake of it?’
‘I will.’
‘Thank you! All I need is your tears. Let all the rest punish me and crush me underfoot, all of them, every single one, without exception! Because I love no one. Do you hear me, no one at all! In fact, I hate everyone! Go, Alyosha, it’s time you went to your brother!’ She suddenly tore herself free from him.
The Karamazov Brothers Page 88
