The Brothers Karamazov
minute and then cheerful and then irritable again. And you know,
Alyosha, I am constantly wondering at him—with this awful thing hanging
over him, he sometimes laughs at such trifles as though he were a baby
himself.”
“And did he really tell you not to tell me about Ivan? Did he say,
‘Don’t tell him’?”
“Yes, he told me, ‘Don’t tell him.’ It’s you that Mitya’s most afraid
of. Because it’s a secret: he said himself it was a secret. Alyosha,
darling, go to him and find out what their secret is and come and tell
me,” Grushenka besought him with sudden eagerness. “Set my mind at rest
that I may know the worst that’s in store for me. That’s why I sent for
you.”
“You think it’s something to do with you? If it were, he wouldn’t have
told you there was a secret.”
“I don’t know. Perhaps he wants to tell me, but doesn’t dare to. He
warns me. There is a secret, he tells me, but he won’t tell me what it
is.”
“What do you think yourself?”
“What do I think? It’s the end for me, that’s what I think. They all
three have been plotting my end, for Katerina’s in it. It’s all
Katerina, it all comes from her. She is this and that, and that means
that I am not. He tells me that beforehand—warns me. He is planning to
throw me over, that’s the whole secret. They’ve planned it together,
the three of them—Mitya, Katerina, and Ivan Fyodorovitch. Alyosha, I’ve
been wanting to ask you a long time. A week ago he suddenly told me
that Ivan was in love with Katerina, because he often goes to see her.
Did he tell me the truth or not? Tell me, on your conscience, tell me
the worst.”
“I won’t tell you a lie. Ivan is not in love with Katerina Ivanovna, I
think.”
“Oh, that’s what I thought! He is lying to me, shameless deceiver,
that’s what it is! And he was jealous of me just now, so as to put the
blame on me afterwards. He is stupid, he can’t disguise what he is
doing; he is so open, you know.... But I’ll give it to him, I’ll give
it to him! ‘You believe I did it,’ he said. He said that to me, to me.
He reproached me with that! God forgive him! You wait, I’ll make it hot
for Katerina at the trial! I’ll just say a word then ... I’ll tell
everything then!”
And again she cried bitterly.
“This I can tell you for certain, Grushenka,” Alyosha said, getting up.
“First, that he loves you, loves you more than any one in the world,
and you only, believe me. I know. I do know. The second thing is that I
don’t want to worm his secret out of him, but if he’ll tell me of
himself to-day, I shall tell him straight out that I have promised to
tell you. Then I’ll come to you to-day, and tell you. Only ... I fancy
... Katerina Ivanovna has nothing to do with it, and that the secret is
about something else. That’s certain. It isn’t likely it’s about
Katerina Ivanovna, it seems to me. Good-by for now.”
Alyosha shook hands with her. Grushenka was still crying. He saw that
she put little faith in his consolation, but she was better for having
had her sorrow out, for having spoken of it. He was sorry to leave her
in such a state of mind, but he was in haste. He had a great many
things to do still.
Chapter II.
The Injured Foot
The first of these things was at the house of Madame Hohlakov, and he
hurried there to get it over as quickly as possible and not be too late
for Mitya. Madame Hohlakov had been slightly ailing for the last three
weeks: her foot had for some reason swollen up, and though she was not
in bed, she lay all day half-reclining on the couch in her boudoir, in
a fascinating but decorous _déshabillé_. Alyosha had once noted with
innocent amusement that, in spite of her illness, Madame Hohlakov had
begun to be rather dressy—top-knots, ribbons, loose wrappers, had made
their appearance, and he had an inkling of the reason, though he
dismissed such ideas from his mind as frivolous. During the last two
months the young official, Perhotin, had become a regular visitor at
the house.
Alyosha had not called for four days and he was in haste to go straight
to Lise, as it was with her he had to speak, for Lise had sent a maid
to him the previous day, specially asking him to come to her “about
something very important,” a request which, for certain reasons, had
interest for Alyosha. But while the maid went to take his name in to
Lise, Madame Hohlakov heard of his arrival from some one, and
immediately sent to beg him to come to her “just for one minute.”
Alyosha reflected that it was better to accede to the mamma’s request,
or else she would be sending down to Lise’s room every minute that he
was there. Madame Hohlakov was lying on a couch. She was particularly
smartly dressed and was evidently in a state of extreme nervous
excitement. She greeted Alyosha with cries of rapture.
“It’s ages, ages, perfect ages since I’ve seen you! It’s a whole
week—only think of it! Ah, but you were here only four days ago, on
Wednesday. You have come to see Lise. I’m sure you meant to slip into
her room on tiptoe, without my hearing you. My dear, dear Alexey
Fyodorovitch, if you only knew how worried I am about her! But of that
later, though that’s the most important thing, of that later. Dear
Alexey Fyodorovitch, I trust you implicitly with my Lise. Since the
death of Father Zossima—God rest his soul!” (she crossed herself)—“I
look upon you as a monk, though you look charming in your new suit.
Where did you find such a tailor in these parts? No, no, that’s not the
chief thing—of that later. Forgive me for sometimes calling you
Alyosha; an old woman like me may take liberties,” she smiled
coquettishly; “but that will do later, too. The important thing is that
I shouldn’t forget what is important. Please remind me of it yourself.
As soon as my tongue runs away with me, you just say ‘the important
thing?’ Ach! how do I know now what is of most importance? Ever since
Lise took back her promise—her childish promise, Alexey Fyodorovitch—to
marry you, you’ve realized, of course, that it was only the playful
fancy of a sick child who had been so long confined to her chair—thank
God, she can walk now!... that new doctor Katya sent for from Moscow
for your unhappy brother, who will to-morrow—But why speak of
to-morrow? I am ready to die at the very thought of to-morrow. Ready to
die of curiosity.... That doctor was with us yesterday and saw Lise....
I paid him fifty roubles for the visit. But that’s not the point,
that’s not the point again. You see, I’m mixing everything up. I am in
such a hurry. Why am I in a hurry? I don’t understand. It’s awful how I
seem growing unable to understand anything. Everything seems mixed up
in a sort of tangle. I am afraid you are so bored you will jump up and
run away, and that will be all I shall see of you. Goodness! Why are we
sitting here and no coffee? Yulia, Glafira, coffee!”
Alyosha made haste to thank her, and said that he had only just had
coffee.
“Where?”
“At Agrafena Alexandrovna’s.”
“At ... at that woman’s? Ah, it’s she has brought ruin on every one. I
know nothing about it though. They say she has become a saint, though
it’s rather late in the day. She had better have done it before. What
use is it now? Hush, hush, Alexey Fyodorovitch, for I have so much to
say to you that I am afraid I shall tell you nothing. This awful trial
... I shall certainly go, I am making arrangements. I shall be carried
there in my chair; besides I can sit up. I shall have people with me.
And, you know, I am a witness. How shall I speak, how shall I speak? I
don’t know what I shall say. One has to take an oath, hasn’t one?”
“Yes; but I don’t think you will be able to go.”
“I can sit up. Ah, you put me out! Ah! this trial, this savage act, and
then they are all going to Siberia, some are getting married, and all
this so quickly, so quickly, everything’s changing, and at
last—nothing. All grow old and have death to look forward to. Well, so
be it! I am weary. This Katya, _cette charmante personne_, has
disappointed all my hopes. Now she is going to follow one of your
brothers to Siberia, and your other brother is going to follow her, and
will live in the nearest town, and they will all torment one another.
It drives me out of my mind. Worst of all—the publicity. The story has
been told a million times over in all the papers in Moscow and
Petersburg. Ah! yes, would you believe it, there’s a paragraph that I
was ‘a dear friend’ of your brother’s ——, I can’t repeat the horrid
word. Just fancy, just fancy!”
“Impossible! Where was the paragraph? What did it say?”
“I’ll show you directly. I got the paper and read it yesterday. Here,
in the Petersburg paper _Gossip_. The paper began coming out this year.
I am awfully fond of gossip, and I take it in, and now it pays me
out—this is what gossip comes to! Here it is, here, this passage. Read
it.”
And she handed Alyosha a sheet of newspaper which had been under her
pillow.
It was not exactly that she was upset, she seemed overwhelmed and
perhaps everything really was mixed up in a tangle in her head. The
paragraph was very typical, and must have been a great shock to her,
but, fortunately perhaps, she was unable to keep her mind fixed on any
one subject at that moment, and so might race off in a minute to
something else and quite forget the newspaper.
Alyosha was well aware that the story of the terrible case had spread
all over Russia. And, good heavens! what wild rumors about his brother,
about the Karamazovs, and about himself he had read in the course of
those two months, among other equally credible items! One paper had
even stated that he had gone into a monastery and become a monk, in
horror at his brother’s crime. Another contradicted this, and stated
that he and his elder, Father Zossima, had broken into the monastery
chest and “made tracks from the monastery.” The present paragraph in
the paper _Gossip_ was under the heading, “The Karamazov Case at
Skotoprigonyevsk.” (That, alas! was the name of our little town. I had
hitherto kept it concealed.) It was brief, and Madame Hohlakov was not
directly mentioned in it. No names appeared, in fact. It was merely
stated that the criminal, whose approaching trial was making such a
sensation—retired army captain, an idle swaggerer, and reactionary
bully—was continually involved in amorous intrigues, and particularly
popular with certain ladies “who were pining in solitude.” One such
lady, a pining widow, who tried to seem young though she had a grown-up
daughter, was so fascinated by him that only two hours before the crime
she offered him three thousand roubles, on condition that he would
elope with her to the gold mines. But the criminal, counting on
escaping punishment, had preferred to murder his father to get the
three thousand rather than go off to Siberia with the middle-aged
charms of his pining lady. This playful paragraph finished, of course,
with an outburst of generous indignation at the wickedness of parricide
and at the lately abolished institution of serfdom. Reading it with
curiosity, Alyosha folded up the paper and handed it back to Madame
Hohlakov.
“Well, that must be me,” she hurried on again. “Of course I am meant.
Scarcely more than an hour before, I suggested gold mines to him, and
here they talk of ‘middle-aged charms’ as though that were my motive!
He writes that out of spite! God Almighty forgive him for the
middle-aged charms, as I forgive him! You know it’s— Do you know who it
is? It’s your friend Rakitin.”
“Perhaps,” said Alyosha, “though I’ve heard nothing about it.”
“It’s he, it’s he! No ‘perhaps’ about it. You know I turned him out of
the house.... You know all that story, don’t you?”
“I know that you asked him not to visit you for the future, but why it
was, I haven’t heard ... from you, at least.”