The Brothers Karamazov - Fyodor Dostoyevsky (reading an ebook TXT) 📗

you, my dear boy, from ever asking forgiveness for a

fault from a woman you love. From one you love especially, however

greatly you may have been in fault. For a woman-devil only knows what

to make of a woman! I know something about them, anyway. But try

acknowledging you are in fault to a woman. Say, ‘I am sorry, forgive

me,’ and a shower of reproaches will follow! Nothing will make her

forgive you simply and directly, she’ll humble you to the dust,

bring forward things that have never happened, recall everything,

forget nothing, add something of her own, and only then forgive you.

And even the best, the best of them do it. She’ll scrape up all the

scrapings and load them on your head. They are ready to flay you

alive, I tell you, every one of them, all these angels without whom we

cannot live! I tell you plainly and openly, dear boy, every decent man

ought to be under some woman’s thumb. That’s my conviction-not

conviction, but feeling. A man ought to be magnanimous, and it’s no

disgrace to a man! No disgrace to a hero, not even a Caesar! But don’t

ever beg her pardon all the same for anything. Remember that rule

given you by your brother Mitya, who’s come to ruin through women. No,

I’d better make it up to Grusha somehow, without begging pardon. I

worship her, Alexey, worship her. Only she doesn’t see it. No, she

still thinks I don’t love her enough. And she tortures me, tortures me

with her love. The past was nothing! In the past it was only those

infernal curves of hers that tortured me, but now I’ve taken all her

soul into my soul and through her I’ve become a man myself. Will

they marry us? If they don’t, I shall die of jealousy. I imagine

something every day…. What did she say to you about me?”

 

Alyosha repeated all Grushenka had said to him that day. Mitya

listened, made him repeat things, and seemed pleased.

 

“Then she is not angry at my being jealous?” he exclaimed. “She is

a regular woman! ‘I’ve a fierce heart myself!’ Ah, I love such

fierce hearts, though I can’t bear anyone’s being jealous of me. I

can’t endure it. We shall fight. But I shall love her, I shall love

her infinitely. Will they marry us? Do they let convicts marry? That’s

the question. And without her I can’t exist…”

 

Mitya walked frowning across the room. It was almost dark. He

suddenly seemed terribly worried.

 

“So there’s a secret, she says, a secret? We have got up a plot

against her, and Katya is mixed up in it, she thinks. No, my good

Grushenka, that’s not it. You are very wide of the mark, in your

foolish feminine way. Alyosha, darling, well, here goes! I’ll tell you

our secret!”

 

He looked round, went close up quickly to Alyosha, who was

standing before him, and whispered to him with an air of mystery,

though in reality no one could hear them: the old warder was dozing in

the corner, and not a word could reach the ears of the soldiers on

guard.

 

“I will tell you all our secret,” Mitya whispered hurriedly. “I

meant to tell you later, for how could I decide on anything without

you? You are everything to me. Though I say that Ivan is superior to

us, you are my angel. It’s your decision will decide it. Perhaps

it’s you that is superior and not Ivan. You see, it’s a question of

conscience, question of the higher conscience-the secret is so

important that I can’t settle it myself, and I’ve put it off till I

could speak to you. But anyway it’s too early to decide now, for we

must wait for the verdict. As soon as the verdict is given, you

shall decide my fate. Don’t decide it now. I’ll tell you now. You

listen, but don’t decide. Stand and keep quiet. I won’t tell you

everything. I’ll only tell you the idea, without details, and you keep

quiet. Not a question, not a movement. You agree? But, goodness,

what shall I do with your eyes? I’m afraid your eyes will tell me your

decision, even if you don’t speak. Oo! I’m afraid! Alyosha, listen!

Ivan suggests my escaping. I won’t tell you the details: it’s all been

thought out: it can all be arranged. Hush, don’t decide. I should go

to America with Grusha. You know I can’t live without Grusha! What

if they won’t let her follow me to Siberia? Do they let convicts get

married? Ivan thinks not. And without Grusha what should I do there

underground with a hammer? I should only smash my skull with the

hammer! But, on the other hand, my conscience? I should have run

away from suffering. A sign has come, I reject the sign. I have a

way of salvation and I turn my back on it. Ivan says that in

America, ‘with the goodwill,’ I can be of more use than underground.

But what becomes of our hymn from underground? What’s America? America

is vanity again! And there’s a lot of swindling in America, too, I

expect. I should have run away from crucifixion! I tell you, you know,

Alexey, because you are the only person who can understand this.

There’s no one else. It’s folly, madness to others, all I’ve told

you of the hymn. They’ll say I’m out of my mind or a fool. I am not

out of my mind and I am not a fool. Ivan understands about the hymn,

too. He understands, only he doesn’t answer-he doesn’t speak. He

doesn’t believe in the hymn. Don’t speak, don’t speak. I see how you

look! You have already decided. Don’t decide, spare me! I can’t live

without Grusha. Wait till after the trial!”

 

Mitya ended beside himself. He held Alyosha with both hands on his

shoulders, and his yearning, feverish eyes were fixed on his

brother’s.

 

“They don’t let convicts marry, do they?” he repeated for the

third time in a supplicating voice.

 

Alyosha listened with extreme surprise and was deeply moved.

 

“Tell me one thing,” he said. “Is Ivan very keen on it, and

whose idea was it?”

 

“His, his, and he is very keen on it. He didn’t come to see me

at first, then he suddenly came a week ago and he began about it

straight away. He is awfully keen on it. He doesn’t ask me, but orders

me to escape. He doesn’t doubt of my obeying him, though I showed

him all my heart as I have to you, and told him about the hymn, too.

He told me he’d arrange it; he’s found out about everything. But of

that later. He’s simply set on it. It’s all a matter of money: he’ll

pay ten thousand for escape and give me twenty thousand for America.

And he says we can arrange a magnificent escape for ten thousand.”

 

“And he told you on no account to tell me?” Alyosha asked again.

 

“To tell no one, and especially not you; on no account to tell

you. He is afraid, no doubt, that you’ll stand before me as my

conscience. Don’t tell him I told you. Don’t tell him, for anything.”

 

“You are right,” Alyosha pronounced; “it’s impossible to decide

anything before the trial is over. After the trial you’ll decide of

yourself. Then you’ll find that new man in yourself and he will

decide.”

 

“A new man, or a Bernard who’ll decide a la Bernard, for I believe

I’m a contemptible Bernard myself,” said Mitya, with a bitter grin.

 

“But, brother, have you no hope then of being acquitted?”

 

Mitya shrugged his shoulders nervously and shook his head.

 

“Alyosha, darling, it’s time you were going,” he said, with a

sudden haste. “There’s the superintendent shouting in the yard.

He’ll be here directly. We are late; it’s irregular. Embrace me

quickly. Kiss me! Sign me with the cross, darling, for the cross I

have to bear to-morrow.”

 

They embraced and kissed.

 

“Ivan,” said Mitya suddenly, “suggests my escaping; but, of

course, he believes I did it.”

 

A mournful smile came on to his lips.

 

“Have you asked him whether he believes it?” asked Alyosha.

 

“No, I haven’t. I wanted to, but I couldn’t. I hadn’t the courage.

But I saw it from his eyes. Well, good-bye!”

 

Once more they kissed hurriedly, and Alyosha was just going out,

when Mitya suddenly called him back.

 

“Stand facing me! That’s right!” And again he seized Alyosha,

putting both hands on his shoulders. His face became suddenly quite

pale, so that it was dreadfully apparent, even through the gathering

darkness. His lips twitched, his eyes fastened upon Alyosha.

 

“Alyosha, tell me the whole truth, as you would before God. Do you

believe I did it? Do you, do you in yourself, believe it? The whole

truth, don’t lie!” he cried desperately.

 

Everything seemed heaving before Alyosha, and he felt something

like a stab at his heart.

 

“Hush! What do you mean?” he faltered helplessly.

 

“The whole truth, the whole, don’t lie!” repeated Mitya.

 

“I’ve never for one instant believed that you were the

murderer!” broke in a shaking voice from Alyosha’s breast, and he

raised his right hand in the air, as though calling God to witness his

words.

 

Mitya’s whole face was lighted up with bliss.

 

“Thank you!” he articulated slowly, as though letting a sigh

escape him after fainting. “Now you have given me new life. Would

you believe it, till this moment I’ve been afraid to ask you, you,

even you. Well, go! You’ve given me strength for to-morrow. God

bless you! Come, go along! Love Ivan!” was Mitya’s last word.

 

Alyosha went out in tears. Such distrustfulness in Mitya, such

lack of confidence even to him, to Alyosha-all this suddenly opened

before Alyosha an unsuspected depth of hopeless grief and despair in

the soul of his unhappy brother. Intense, infinite compassion

overwhelmed him instantly. There was a poignant ache in his torn

heart. “Love Ivan”- he suddenly recalled Mitya’s words. And he was

going to Ivan. He badly wanted to see Ivan all day. He was as much

worried about Ivan as about Mitya, and more than ever now.