“Shouldn’t you put a wet bandage on your head and go to bed, too?” Alyosha said to him. “We’ll look after him. My brother gave you a terrible blow — on the head.”
“He’s insulted me!” Grigory articulated gloomily and distinctly.
“He’s ‘insulted’ his father, not only you,” observed Ivan with a forced smile.
“I used to wash him in his tub. He’s insulted me,” repeated Grigory.
“Damn it all, if I hadn’t pulled him away perhaps he’d have murdered him. It wouldn’t take much to do for Aesop, would it?” whispered Ivan to Alyosha.
“God forbid!” cried Alyosha.
“Why should He forbid?” Ivan went on in the same whisper, with a malignant grimace. “One reptile will devour the other. And serve them both right, too.”
Alyosha shuddered.
“Of course I won’t let him be murdered as I didn’t just now. Stay here, Alyosha, I’ll go for a turn in the yard. My head’s begun to ache.”
Alyosha went to his father’s bedroom and sat by his bedside behind the screen for about an hour. The old man suddenly opened his eyes and gazed for a long while at Alyosha, evidently remembering and meditating. All at once his face betrayed extraordinary excitement.
“Alyosha,” he whispered apprehensively, “where’s Ivan?”
“In the yard. He’s got a headache. He’s on the watch.”
“Give me that looking-glass. It stands over there. Give it me.”
Alyosha gave him a little round folding looking-glass which stood on the chest of drawers. The old man looked at himself in it; his nose was considerably swollen, and on the left side of his forehead there was a rather large crimson bruise.
“What does Ivan say? Alyosha, my dear, my only son, I’m afraid of Ivan. I’m more afraid of Ivan than the other. You’re the only one I’m not afraid of....”
“Don’t be afraid of Ivan either. He is angry, but he’ll defend you.”
“Alyosha, and what of the other? He’s run to Grushenka. My angel, tell me the truth, was she here just now or not?”
“No one has seen her. It was a mistake. She has not been here.”
“You know Mitya wants to marry her, to marry her.”
“She won’t marry him.”
“She won’t. She won’t. She won’t. She won’t on any account!”
The old man fairly fluttered with joy, as though nothing more comforting could have been said to him. In his delight he seized Alyosha’s hand and pressed it warmly to his heart. Tears positively glittered in his eyes.
“That image of the Mother of God of which I was telling you just now,” he said. “Take it home and keep it for yourself. And I’ll let you go back to the monastery.... I was joking this morning, don’t be angry with me. My head aches, Alyosha.... Alyosha, comfort my heart. Be an angel and tell me the truth!”
“You’re still asking whether she has been here or not?” Alyosha said sorrowfully.
“No, no, no. I believe you. I’ll tell you what it is: you go to Grushenka yourself, or see her somehow; make haste and ask her; see for yourself, which she means to choose, him or me. Eh? What? Can you?”
“If I see her I’ll ask her,” Alyosha muttered, embarrassed.
“No, she won’t tell you,” the old man interrupted, “she’s a rogue. She’ll begin kissing you and say that it’s you she wants. She’s a deceitful, shameless hussy. You mustn’t go to her, you mustn’t!”
“No father, and it wouldn’t be suitable, it wouldn’t be right at all.”
“Where was he sending you just now? He shouted ‘Go’ as he ran away.”
“For money? To ask her for money?”
“No. Not for money.”
“He’s no money; not a farthing. I’ll settle down for the night, and think things over, and you can go. Perhaps you’ll meet her.... Only be sure to come to me to-morrow in the morning. Be sure to. I have a word to say to you to-morrow. Will you come?”
“When you come, pretend you’ve come of your own accord to ask after me. Don’t tell anyone I told you to. Don’t say a word to Ivan.”
“Very well.”
“Good-bye, my angel. You stood up for me, just now. I shall never forget it. I’ve a word to say to you to-morrow — but I must think about it.”
“And how do you feel now?”
“I shall get up to-morrow and go out, perfectly well, perfectly well!”
Crossing the yard Alyosha found Ivan sitting on the bench at the gateway. He was sitting writing something in pencil in his notebook. Alyosha told Ivan that their father had waked up, was conscious, and had let him go back to sleep at the monastery.
“Alyosha, I should be very glad to meet you to-morrow morning,” said Ivan cordially, standing up. His cordiality was a complete surprise to Alyosha.
“I shall be at the Hohlakovs’ to-morrow,” answered Alyosha, “I may be at Katerina Ivanovna’s, too, if I don’t find her now.”
“But you’re going to her now, anyway? For that ‘compliments and farewell,’” said Ivan smiling. Alyosha was disconcerted.
“I think I quite understand his exclamations just now, and part of what went before. Dmitri has asked you to go to her and say that he — well, in fact — takes his leave of her?”
“Brother, how will all this horror end between father and Dmitri?” exclaimed Alyosha.
“One can’t tell for certain. Perhaps in nothing: it may all fizzle out. That woman is a beast. In any case we must keep the old man indoors and not let Dmitri in the house.”
“Brother, let me ask one thing more: has any man a right to look at other men and decide which is worthy to live?”
“Why bring in the question of worth? The matter is most often decided in men’s hearts on other grounds much more natural. And as for rights — who has not the right to wish?”
“Not for another man’s death?”
“What even if for another man’s death? Why lie to oneself since all men live so and perhaps cannot help living so. Are you referring to what I said just now — that one reptile will devour the other? In that case let me ask you, do you think me like Dmitri capable of shedding Aesop’s blood, murdering him, eh?”
“What are you saying, Ivan? Such an idea never crossed my mind. I don’t think Dmitri is capable of it, either.”
“Thanks, if only for that,” smiled Ivan. “Be sure, I should always defend him. But in my wishes I reserve myself full latitude in this case. Good-bye till to-morrow. Don’t condemn me, and don’t look on me as a villain,” he added with a smile.
They shook hands warmly as they had never done before. Alyosha felt that his brother had taken the first step towards him, and that he had certainly done this with some definite motive.
CHAPTER 10
Both Together
ALYOSHA left his father’s house feeling even more exhausted and dejected in spirit than when he had entered it. His mind too seemed shattered and unhinged, while he felt that he was afraid to put together the disjointed fragments and form a general idea from all the agonising and conflicting experiences of the day. He felt something bordering upon despair, which he had never known till then. Towering like a mountain above all the rest stood the fatal, insoluble question: How would things end between his father and his brother Dmitri with this terrible woman? Now he had himself been a witness of it, he had been present and seen them face to face. Yet only his brother Dmitri could be made unhappy, terribly, completely unhappy: there was trouble awaiting him. It appeared too that there were other people concerned, far more so than Alyosha could have supposed before. There was something positively mysterious in it, too. Ivan had made a step towards him, which was what Alyosha had been long desiring. Yet now he felt for some reason that he was frightened at it. And these women? Strange to say, that morning he had set out for Katerina Ivanovna’s in the greatest embarrassment; now he felt nothing of the kind. On the contrary, he was hastening there as though expecting to find guidance from her. Yet to give her this message was
obviously more difficult than before. The matter of the three thousand was decided irrevocably, and Dmitri, feeling himself dishonoured and losing his last hope, might sink to any depth. He had, moreover, told him to describe to Katerina Ivanovna the scene which had just taken place with his father.
It was by now seven o’clock, and it was getting dark as Alyosha entered the very spacious and convenient house in the High Street occupied by Katerina Ivanovna. Alyosha knew that she lived with two aunts. One of them, a woman of little education, was that aunt of her half-sister Agafya Ivanovna who had looked after her in her father’s house when she came from boarding-school. The other aunt was a Moscow lady of style and consequence, though in straitened circumstances. It was said that they both gave way in everything to Katerina Ivanovna, and that she only kept them with her as chaperons. Katerina Ivanovna herself gave way to no one but her benefactress, the general’s widow, who had been kept by illness in Moscow, and to whom she was obliged to write twice a week a full account of all her doings.
When Alyosha entered the hall and asked the maid who opened the door to him to take his name up, it was evident that they were already aware of his arrival. Possibly he had been noticed from the window. At least, Alyosha heard a noise, caught the sound of flying footsteps and rustling skirts. Two or three women, perhaps, had run out of the room.
Alyosha thought it strange that his arrival should cause such excitement. He was conducted, however, to the drawing-room at once. It was a large room, elegantly and amply furnished, not at all in provincial style. There were many sofas, lounges, settees, big and little tables. There were pictures on the walls, vases and lamps on the tables, masses of flowers, and even an aquarium in the window. It was twilight and rather dark. Alyosha made out a silk mantle thrown down on the sofa, where people had evidently just been sitting; and on a table in front of the sofa were two unfinished cups of chocolate, cakes, a glass saucer with blue raisins, and another with sweetmeats. Alyosha saw that he had interrupted visitors, and frowned. But at that instant the portiere was raised, and with rapid, hurrying footsteps Katerina Ivanovna came in, holding out both hands to Alyosha with a radiant smile of delight. At the same instant a servant brought in two lighted candles and set them on the table.
“Thank God! At last you have come too! I’ve been simply praying for you all day! Sit down.”
Alyosha had been struck by Katerina Ivanovna’s beauty when, three weeks before, Dmitri had first brought him, at Katerina Ivanovna’s special request, to be introduced to her. There had been no conversation between them at that interview, however. Supposing Alyosha to be very shy, Katerina Ivanovna had talked all the time to Dmitri to spare him. Alyosha had been silent, but he had seen a great deal very clearly. He was struck by the imperiousness, proud ease, and self-confidence of the haughty girl. And all that was certain, Alyosha felt that he was not exaggerating it. He thought her great glowing black eyes were very fine, especially with her pale, even rather sallow, longish face. But in those eyes and in the lines of her exquisite lips there was something with which his brother might well be passionately in love, but which perhaps could not be loved for long. He expressed this thought almost plainly to Dmitri when, after the visit, his brother besought and insisted that he should not conceal his impressions on seeing his betrothed.
“You’ll be happy with her, but perhaps not tranquilly happy.”
“Quite so, brother. Such people remain always the same. They don’t yield to fate. So you think I shan’t love her for ever.”
“No; perhaps you will love her for ever. But perhaps you won’t always be happy with her.”
Alyosha had given his opinion at the time, blushing, and angry with himself for having yielded to his brother’s entreaties and put such “foolish” ideas into words. For his opinion had struck him as awfully foolish immediately after he had uttered it. He felt ashamed too of having given so confident an opinion about a woman. It was with the more amazement that he felt now, at the first glance at Katerina Ivanovna as she ran in to him, that he had perhaps been utterly mistaken. This time her face was beaming with spontaneous good-natured kindliness, and direct warm-hearted sincerity. The “pride and haughtiness,” which had struck Alyosha so much before, was only betrayed now in a frank, generous energy and a sort of bright, strong faith in herself. Alyosha realised at the first glance, at the first word, that all the tragedy of her position in relation to the man she loved so dearly was no secret to her; that she perhaps already knew everything, positively everything. And yet, in spite of that, there was such brightness in her face, such faith in the future. Alyosha felt at once that he had gravely wronged her in his thoughts. He was conquered and captivated immediately. Besides all this, he noticed at her first words that she was in great excitement, an excitement perhaps quite exceptional and almost approaching ecstasy.
“I was so eager to see you, because I can learn from you the whole truth — from you and no one else.”
“I have come,” muttered Alyosha confusedly, “I — he sent me.”
“Ah, he sent you I foresaw that. Now I know everything — everything!” cried Katerina Ivanovna, her eyes flashing. “Wait a moment, Alexey Fyodorovitch, I’ll tell you why I’ve been so longing to see you. You see, I know perhaps far more than you do yourself, and there’s no need for you to tell me anything. I’ll tell you what I want from you. I want to know your own last impression of him. I want you to tell me most directly, plainly, coarsely even (oh, as coarsely as you like!), what you thought of him just now and of his position after your meeting with him to-day. That will perhaps be better than if I had a personal explanation with him, as he does not want to come to me. Do you understand what I want from you? Now, tell me simply, tell me every word of the message he sent you with (I knew he would send you).”
“He told me to give you his compliments and to say that he would never come again but to give you his compliments.”
“His compliments? Was that what he said his own expression?”
“Yes.”
“Accidentally perhaps he made a mistake in the word, perhaps he did not use the right word?”
“No; he told me precisely to repeat that word. He begged me two or three times not to forget to say so.”
Katerina Ivanovna flushed hotly.
“Help me now, Alexey Fyodorovitch. Now I really need your help. I’ll tell you what I think, and you must simply say whether it’s right or not. Listen! If he had sent me his compliments in passing, without insisting on your repeating the words, without emphasising them, that would be the end of everything! But if he particularly insisted on those words, if he particularly told you not to forget to repeat them to me, then perhaps he was in excitement, beside himself. He had made his decision and was frightened at it. He wasn’t walking away from me with a resolute step, but leaping headlong. The emphasis on that phrase may have been simply bravado.”
“Yes, yes!” cried Alyosha warmly. “I believe that is it.”
“And, if so, he’s not altogether lost. I can still save him. Stay! Did he not tell you anything about money — about three thousand roubles?”
“He did speak about it, and it’s that more than anything that’s crushing him. He said he had lost his honour and that nothing matters now,” Alyosha answered warmly, feeling a rush of hope in his heart and believing that there really might be a way of escape and salvation for his brother. “But do you know about the money?” he added, and suddenly broke off.
“I’ve known of it a long time; I telegraphed to Moscow to inquire, and heard long ago that the money had not arrived. He hadn’t sent the money, but I said nothing. Last week I learnt that he was still in need of money. My only object in all this was that he should know to whom to turn, and who was his true friend. No, he won’t recognise that I am his truest friend; he won’t know me, and looks on me merely as a woman. I’ve been tormented all the week, trying to think how to prevent him from being ashamed to face me because he spent that three thousand. Let him feel ashamed of h
imself, let him be ashamed of other people’s knowing, but not of my knowing. He can tell God everything without shame. Why is it he still does not understand how much I am ready to bear for his sake? Why, why doesn’t he know me? How dare he not know me after all that has happened? I want to save him for ever. Let him forget me as his betrothed. And here he fears that he is dishonoured in my eyes. Why, he wasn’t afraid to be open with you, Alexey Fyodorovitch. How is it that I don’t deserve the same?”
The last words she uttered in tears. Tears gushed from her eyes.
“I must tell you,” Alyosha began, his voice trembling too, “what happened just now between him and my father.”
And he described the whole scene, how Dmitri had sent him to get the money, how he had broken in, knocked his father down, and after that had again specially and emphatically begged him to take his compliments and farewell. “He went to that woman,” Alyosha added softly.
“And do you suppose that I can’t put up with that woman? Does he think I can’t? But he won’t marry her,” she suddenly laughed nervously. “Could such a passion last for ever in a Karamazov? It’s passion, not love. He won’t marry her because she won’t marry him.” Again Katerina Ivanovna laughed strangely.
“He may marry her,” said Alyosha mournfully, looking down.
“He won’t marry her, I tell you. That girl is an angel. Do you know that? Do you know that?” Katerina Ivanovna exclaimed suddenly with extraordinary warmth. “She is one of the most fantastic of fantastic creatures. I know how bewitching she is, but I know too that she is kind, firm, and noble. Why do you look at me like that, Alexey Fyodorovitch? Perhaps you are wondering at my words, perhaps you don’t believe me? Agrafena Alexandrovna, my angel!” she cried suddenly to someone, peeping into the next room, “come in to us. This is a friend. This is Alyosha. He knows all about our affairs. Show yourself to him.”
Complete Works of Fyodor Dostoyevsky Page 521