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

of her. It’s simply on her account he made that scene in the

cell just now, simply because Miusov called her an ‘abandoned

creature.’ He’s worse than a tom-cat in love. At first she was only

employed by him in connection with his taverns and in some other shady

business, but now he has suddenly realised all she is and has gone

wild about her. He keeps pestering her with his offers, not honourable

ones, of course. And they’ll come into collision, the precious

father and son, on that path! But Grushenka favours neither of them,

she’s still playing with them, and teasing them both, considering

which she can get most out of. For though she could filch a lot of

money from the papa he wouldn’t marry her, and maybe he’ll turn stingy

in the end, and keep his purse shut. That’s where Mitya’s value

comes in; he has no money, but he’s ready to marry her. Yes, ready

to marry her! to abandon his betrothed, a rare beauty, Katerina

Ivanovna, who’s rich, and the daughter of a colonel, and to marry

Grushenka, who has been the mistress of a dissolute old merchant,

Samsonov, a coarse, uneducated, provincial mayor. Some murderous

conflict may well come to pass from all this, and that’s what your

brother Ivan is waiting for. It would suit him down to the ground.

He’ll carry off Katerina Ivanovna, for whom he is languishing, and

pocket her dowry of sixty thousand. That’s very alluring to start

with, for a man of no consequence and a beggar. And, take note, he

won’t be wronging Mitya, but doing him the greatest service. For I

know as a fact that Mitya only last week, when he was with some

Gipsy girls drunk in a tavern, cried out aloud that he was unworthy of

his betrothed, Katya, but that his brother Ivan, he was the man who

deserved her. And Katerina Ivanovna will not in the end refuse such

a fascinating man as Ivan. She’s hesitating between the two of them

already. And how has that Ivan won you all, so that you all worship

him? He is laughing at you, and enjoying himself at your expense.”

 

“How do you know? How can you speak so confidently?” Alyosha asked

sharply, frowning.

 

“Why do you ask, and are frightened at my answer? It shows that

you know I’m speaking the truth.”

 

“You don’t like Ivan. Ivan wouldn’t be tempted by money.”

 

“Really? And the beauty of Katerina Ivanovna? It’s not only the

money, though a fortune of sixty thousand is an attraction.”

 

“Ivan is above that. He wouldn’t make up to anyone for

thousands. It is not money, it’s not comfort Ivan is seeking.

Perhaps it’s suffering he is seeking.”

 

“What wild dream now? Oh, you-aristocrats!”

 

“Ah, Misha, he has a stormy spirit. His mind is in bondage. He

is haunted by a great, unsolved doubt. He is one of those who don’t

want millions, but an answer to their questions.”

 

“That’s plagiarism, Alyosha. You’re quoting your elder’s

phrases. Ah, Ivan has set you a problem!” cried Rakitin, with

undisguised malice. His face changed, and his lips twitched. “And

the problem’s a stupid one. It is no good guessing it. Rack your

brains-you’ll understand it. His article is absurd and ridiculous.

And did you hear his stupid theory just now: if there’s no immortality

of the soul, then there’s no virtue, and everything is lawful. (And by

the way, do you remember how your brother Mitya cried out: ‘I will

remember!’) An attractive theory for scoundrels!- (I’m being

abusive, that’s stupid.) Not for scoundrels, but for pedantic poseurs,

‘haunted by profound, unsolved doubts.’ He’s showing off, and what

it all comes to is, ‘on the one hand we cannot but admit’ and ‘on

the other it must be confessed!’ His whole theory is a fraud! Humanity

will find in itself the power to live for virtue even without

believing in immortality. It will find it in love for freedom, for

equality, for fraternity.”

 

Rakitin could hardly restrain himself in his heat, but,

suddenly, as though remembering something, he stopped short.

 

“Well, that’s enough,” he said, with a still more crooked smile.

“Why are you laughing? Do you think I’m a vulgar fool?”

 

“No, I never dreamed of thinking you a vulgar fool. You are clever

but… never mind, I was silly to smile. I understand your getting hot

about it, Misha. I guess from your warmth that you are not indifferent

to Katerina Ivanovna yourself; I’ve suspected that for a long time,

brother, that’s why you don’t like my brother Ivan. Are you jealous of

him?”

 

“And jealous of her money, too? Won’t you add that?”

 

“I’ll say nothing about money. I am not going to insult you.”

 

“I believe it, since you say so, but confound you, and your

brother Ivan with you. Don’t you understand that one might very well

dislike him, apart from Katerina Ivanovna. And why the devil should

I like him? He condescends to abuse me, you know. Why haven’t I a

right to abuse him?”

 

“I never heard of his saying anything about you, good or bad. He

doesn’t speak of you at all.”

 

“But I heard that the day before yesterday at Katerina

Ivanovna’s he was abusing me for all he was worth-you see what an

interest he takes in your humble servant. And which is the jealous one

after that, brother, I can’t say. He was so good as to express the

opinion that, if I don’t go in for the career of an archimandrite in

the immediate future and don’t become a monk, I shall be sure to go to

Petersburg and get on to some solid magazine as a reviewer, that I

shall write for the next ten years, and in the end become the owner of

the magazine, and bring it out on the liberal and atheistic side, with

a socialistic tinge, with a tiny gloss of socialism, but keeping a

sharp lookout all the time, that is, keeping in with both sides and

hoodwinking the fools. According to your brother’s account, the

tinge of socialism won’t hinder me from laying by the proceeds and

investing them under the guidance of some Jew, till at the end of my

career I build a great house in Petersburg and move my publishing

offices to it, and let out the upper stories to lodgers. He has even

chosen the place for it, near the new stone bridge across the Neva,

which they say is to be built in Petersburg.”

 

“Ah, Misha, that’s just what will really happen, every word of

it,” cried Alyosha, unable to restrain a good-humoured smile.

 

“You are pleased to be sarcastic, too, Alexey Fyodorovitch.”

 

“No, no, I’m joking, forgive me. I’ve something quite different in

my mind. But, excuse me, who can have told you all this? You can’t

have been at Katerina Ivanovna’s yourself when he was talking about

you?”

 

“I wasn’t there, but Dmitri Fyodorovitch was; and I heard him tell

it with my own ears; if you want to know, he didn’t tell me, but I

overheard him, unintentionally, of course, for I was sitting in

Grushenka’s bedroom and I couldn’t go away because Dmitri Fyodorovitch

was in the next room.”

 

“Oh yes, I’d forgotten she was a relation of yours.”

 

“A relation! That Grushenka a relation of mine!” cried Rakitin,

turning crimson. “Are you mad? You’re out of your mind!”

 

“Why, isn’t she a relation of yours? I heard so.”

 

“Where can you have heard it? You Karamazovs brag of being an

ancient, noble family, though your father used to run about playing

the buffoon at other men’s tables, and was only admitted to the

kitchen as a favour. I may be only a priest’s son, and dirt in the

eyes of noblemen like you, but don’t insult me so lightly and

wantonly. I have a sense of honour, too, Alexey Fyodorovitch, I

couldn’t be a relation of Grushenka, a common harlot. I beg you to

understand that!”

 

Rakitin was intensely irritated.

 

“Forgive me, for goodness’ sake, I had no idea… besides… how

can you call her a harlot? Is she… that sort of woman?” Alyosha

flushed suddenly. “I tell you again, I heard that she was a relation

of yours. You often go to see her, and you told me yourself you’re not

her lover. I never dreamed that you of all people had such contempt

for her! Does she really deserve it?”

 

“I may have reasons of my own for visiting her. That’s not your

business. But as for relationship, your brother, or even your

father, is more likely to make her yours than mine. Well, here we are.

You’d better go to the kitchen. Hullo! what’s wrong, what is it? Are

we late? They can’t have finished dinner so soon! Have the

Karamazovs been making trouble again? No doubt they have. Here’s

your father and your brother Ivan after him. They’ve broken out from

the Father Superior’s. And look, Father Isidor’s shouting out

something after them from the steps. And your father’s shouting and

waving his arms. I expect he’s swearing. Bah, and there goes Miusov

driving away in his carriage. You see, he’s going. And there’s old

Maximov running!- there must have been a row. There can’t have been

any dinner. Surely they’ve not been beating the Father Superior! Or

have they, perhaps, been beaten? It would serve them right!”

 

There was reason for Rakitin’s exclamations. There had been a

scandalous, an unprecedented scene. It had all come from the impulse

of a moment.