The Brothers Karamazov (40 page)

Her reproach was unfair, though, because Alyosha, too, was very embarrassed.

“I wish I knew how to make you like me always,” he muttered, blushing too.

“My dear Alyosha, you’re a very cold and conceited man. You have done me the honor of accepting me as your wife and now you feel you’ve done enough for me. And you took it for granted that I meant what I wrote seriously. Well, what is that if not the utmost conceit!”

“But why is it so wrong if I was sure you were serious?” he said, suddenly beginning to laugh.

“There’s nothing wrong with it; on the contrary, it’s wonderful.” She looked at him tenderly and happily, still holding his hand. Suddenly Alyosha bent down and kissed her right on the lips.

“And what’s that now? What’s come over you!” Lise cried. Alyosha felt completely at a loss.

“Well, forgive me if I’ve done the wrong thing . . . Perhaps it was very stupid of me . . . You said I was cold, so I kissed you. But now I see it looks rather stupid . . .”

Lise laughed, covering her face with her hands.

“And wearing that cassock, too!” she managed to say amidst her laughter. But she suddenly stopped laughing and grew serious, almost severe. “Well, Alyosha, we’d better postpone kissing for a while, because neither of us is very good at these things yet and, anyway, we have still a very long time to wait. Instead, wouldn’t it be better if you tried to explain to me why an intelligent and thoughtful man like you should choose a silly thing like me, and a cripple to boot? Oh, Alyosha, I’m awfully happy, but I know I’m not worthy of you!”

“Wait, Lise. In a few days I’ll be leaving the monastery for good, and once I’m out in the world, I know I 
must
 get married: 
he
 said so. And where could I find a better wife than you? And, also, who besides you would consider marrying me? I’ve already thought it all over. In the first place, we’ve known each other since we were children and, in the second place, you have many talents that I lack completely. You’re a much gayer person than I am, and you’re also much more innocent than I, for I’ve already seen quite a lot . . . Ah, you don’t know what it means, but I’m a Karamazov! And I don’t mind at all if you poke fun at me; indeed, it pleases me, so go ahead and laugh. But while you laugh like a little girl, you think like a martyr.”

“Me, a martyr? What do you mean by that?”

“Take, for instance, the question you asked me earlier, Lise—whether we weren’t showing scorn for poor Captain Snegirev by trying to dissect his soul that way. Well, that’s something a martyr would ask . . . I don’t know how to express it, but a person to whom such questions occur is himself capable of suffering. While sitting in your wheel-chair all this time, I’m sure you’ve given much thought to these things . . .”

“Give me your hand, Alyosha! Why do you keep trying to pull it away?” Lise said in a voice made strangely weak by happiness. “Tell me, what are you going to wear when you leave the monastery? What sort of suit? Don’t laugh and don’t be angry; it’s very important to me.”

“I hadn’t thought about it, Lise, but I’ll wear whatever you want me to.”

“I want you to wear a navy-blue velvet jacket, a white piqué waistcoat, and a soft gray felt hat . . . Tell me, did you really think I didn’t love you when I told you that my yesterday’s letter was a joke?”

“No, I didn’t believe you.”

“Oh, that unbearable, incorrigible conceit!”

“You see, I knew that . . . that you seemed to love me, but I pretended to believe you to make it easier for you.”

“But that’s even worse! The worst and the best of it is that I’m so terribly in love with you, Alyosha. Yesterday, before you came in, I said to myself: ‘I’ll ask him to give me back my letter and if he takes it out and calmly returns it to me—which is to be expected of him—that’ll show that he doesn’t love me in the least, that he’s just an unfeeling, stupid, unworthy boy, and that this is the end of me.’ But you’d left the letter in your cell at the monastery and that gave me hope. Tell me now, did you leave it there because you knew I’d ask for it and you didn’t want to give it back to me? It’s true, isn’t it?”

“Ah, you’re completely wrong, Lise: I have the letter here and when you asked for it earlier, it was right here, in this pocket.” Laughingly, he took the letter out of his pocket and showed it to her from a distance. “But I’m not going to give it back to you. You may just look at it from there.”

“What? You lied to me then? You, a monk!”

“I suppose I did,” Alyosha said, still laughing. “I lied so that I wouldn’t have to give it to you. It’s very dear to me,” he added with sudden emotion, turning crimson again, “and I’ll never give it up to anyone!”

Lise looked at him ecstatically.

“Alyosha,” she whispered breathlessly, “go and make sure mother isn’t listening behind the door.”

“I’ll look, Lise, but don’t you think it would be better if I didn’t? Why do you have to assume that your mother would do anything so low?”

“Why would it be so low on her part? If she was trying to find out what her daughter was up to, it would be her right and there’d be nothing low about it!” Lise said, flushing. “And you may be quite sure, my dear Alexei, that when I’m a mother myself, and if I must have a daughter like me, I will certainly eavesdrop on her!”

“Will you, Lise? But I don’t think it’s right.”

“But why would it be wrong, for goodness sake? Of course, if it was just some ordinary polite conversation, and I eavesdropped, that would be wrong, but if one’s own daughter shut herself in with a young man . . . Do you know, Alyosha, as soon as we get married, I’ll start keeping my eye on you too. I’ll open all your letters and read them—I might as well warn you now.”

“Why, of course, if you must . . . But that still doesn’t make it right,” Alyosha muttered.

“Oh, how reproachful! Alyosha dear, let’s not quarrel from the very beginning. I’d better tell you the whole truth: of course it’s very bad to eavesdrop, and certainly you are right, and not I, but nevertheless, I 
will
 eavesdrop.”

“Do so then. But there will be nothing to catch me at,” Alyosha said, laughing.

“And another thing, Alyosha, you’ll have to do what I tell you, do you agree to that? That must be settled in advance.”

“Willingly, Lise, certainly I will, except for the thing that matters to me the most. In that most important thing, I will do what I feel is my duty, whether you agree or not.”

“And that’s just as it should be. Now, as for me, I’m prepared to give in to you not only on that most important point but on every point and in everything, and I swear right now that that’s the way it will be as long as I live!” Lise cried ardently. “I’ll yield to you joyfully, and I’ll be happy to! I also swear to you now that I’ll never spy on you, that I’ll never read a single letter addressed to you, because you are right about that and I’m wrong. And although I’m sure there’ll be times when I’ll desperately want to eavesdrop on you, I’ll never do so, because you think eavesdropping is low. From now on, you will be like my Providence. Tell me, Alexei, why were you so sad both yesterday and today? I know you have worries, but I see that you’re also feeling some special sorrow. Perhaps it’s a secret, though?”

“Yes, Lise, there is something, and it is a secret,” Alyosha said sadly, “but I know you love me since you guessed it.”

“What can be making you so sad? I wish I could ask you . . .” Lise said with a look of timid entreaty.

“I’ll tell you some day, later,” Alyosha said awkwardly. “I don’t suppose you’d understand now if I did tell you. Besides, I wouldn’t know how to say it.”

“I know that, on top of everything, you’re unhappy about your brothers and your father.”

“Yes, my brothers too,” Alyosha said, with some hesitation.

“I don’t like your brother Ivan, Alyosha,” Lise said unexpectedly.

Alyosha seemed a little surprised at her remark but he did not comment on it.

“My brothers are bent on destroying themselves and so is my father. And they’re dragging others down to destruction with them. The other day Father Paisii described ‘the Karamazov drive’ as ‘earthy, frantic, and primitive,’ and I don’t even know whether there’s an awareness of the divine spirit beyond that drive. All I know is that I, too, am a Karamazov—I, a monk, a monk . . . Am I a monk, Lise? A moment ago you said I was a monk, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I did.”

“But what would you say if I told you that perhaps I don’t even believe in God?”

“You, not believe in God? What are you saying?” Lise said guardedly in a very quiet voice.

But Alyosha didn’t answer her. There was something too intimate and mysterious in his unexpected statement, something that was, perhaps, unclear even to him, but that had certainly been tormenting him for some time.

“And on top of everything, my friend is leaving me. He’s the best man in the world and he’s leaving it. If only you knew, Lise, how attached I am to this man, how closely tied I am to him! And now I’ll be left all by myself. I’ll come to you, Lise, and then we’ll always be together.”

“Yes, yes, we’ll be together as long as we live. Here, kiss me now, I want you to.”

Alyosha kissed her.

“And now go, and may Christ be with you,” she said, making the sign of the cross over him. “Hurry back to 
him
 while he’s still alive. I realize it was cruel of me to keep you here. I’ll pray for you today. We shall be happy, Alyosha, don’t you think?”

“It looks as if we shall.”

When he left Lise, Alyosha did not feel like seeing Mrs. Khokhlakov and was about to leave the house without saying good-by to her. But no sooner had he opened the door of Lise’s room and come out to the top of the stairs than Mrs. Khokhlakov suddenly appeared out of nowhere. From her very first words, Alyosha realized that she had been waiting for him there.

“It’s absolutely impossible, Alexei. It’s sheer childishness. I hope you don’t take it seriously. It’s utter, utter nonsense!” she fired at him point blank.

“The only thing I ask of you is not to say that to her—you’ll upset her and that’s very bad for her now.”

“I’m glad to hear a sensible word from a sensible young man. Should I conclude, then, that you only pretended to go along with her because you didn’t wish to hurt her by contradicting, out of compassion for her physical condition?”

“Oh, no, not at all. I meant everything I said to her quite seriously,” Alyosha told her firmly.

“It’s all absolutely out of the question. For a start, I’ll never receive you again in my house, and then I’ll leave this town and take her away with me. So now you know.”

“Why, what would be the point of that, since it won’t take place for a long time yet? In any case we’ll have to wait for at least eighteen months or so.”

“Well, that’s true, of course, and in eighteen months you two will have time to quarrel and break up at least a thousand times. But I feel terribly depressed by it, even if it is just a bit of foolishness. I feel like Famusov in the last scene of that Griboedor play—you’re Chatsky, of course, and she’s Sofia . . . And just think of it, I had to hurry here to intercept you on the stairs, and that crucial scene in the play also takes place on the landing of a staircase, remember? I heard everything and I could hardly control myself. So this is what accounts for the horrible night she had and all her recent fits of hysteria! What is love to a daughter is death to a mother, and I might just as well be in my grave. And now I want to ask you about something else, something more important: What is this letter she wrote you? I want to see it. Show it to me, at once!”

“No, you don’t really want it . . . Tell me, rather, how Katerina is. I must know.”

“She’s still delirious. She hasn’t regained consciousness. Her aunts are here and all they do is moan and snub me. Herzenstube finally arrived but he was so frightened by what he saw that he almost fainted himself. I didn’t know what to do with him and wanted to send for another doctor for him, but in the end I had him taken home in my carriage . . . And now, on top of all this commotion, you have to come along and worry me with that letter. I know that I still have eighteen months; nevertheless, I beseech you, in the name of the dying elder, in the name of that great and holy man, to show me, her mother, that letter, Alexei! If it will make you feel any better, you can hold it in your hand while I read it, but please show it to me!”

“No, Mrs. Khokhlakov, I wouldn’t show it to you, even if she gave me permission to do so. If you want, I’ll come and see you tomorrow, for there are many things for us to talk about, but for now, good-by.”

And Alyosha ran downstairs and out into the street.

Chapter 2: Smerdyakov And His Guitar

ALYOSHA WAS in a great hurry. While taking leave of Lise, he had suddenly conceived a very cunning plan to catch his brother Dmitry, who was evidently hiding from him. It was already after two o’clock and he was anxious to get back to the monastery as soon as possible, to be with his dying elder, but he absolutely had to see Dmitry first. With every hour, Alyosha’s foreboding of an approaching catastrophe had been growing stronger, although he probably could not have explained exactly what catastrophe or even what he wanted to say to his brother at that moment. “If it must be, let the man to whom I owe everything die without me; at least I won’t have to reproach myself for the rest of my life because I might have staved off disaster but didn’t because I was in a hurry to get back to what I feel is my home. I shall act, now, the way he wants me to act.”

Alyosha’s plan was to catch Dmitry unawares: he would climb over the fence, as he had the day before, hide himself in the summer house, and wait for his brother there. “And if he’s not there, I’ll wait until evening if I must, without letting either Foma or the landladies know of my presence . . . But if he’s still watching out for Grushenka, he may very well come to the summer house sometime or other.” Alyosha didn’t think out the details of his plan very thoroughly. He simply decided to carry it out even if it meant not going back to the monastery at all that day.

He reached the place without incident. He climbed over the fence at the same spot as the day before and hid himself in the summer house without being seen. He was very anxious to avoid being seen by the landladies or Foma, if the man happened to be around, for they were in league with Dmitry and might either prevent Alyosha from entering their garden or warn Dmitry that someone was there, waiting for him. The summer house was empty. Alyosha sat down on the bench where he had sat the day before, and waited. He glanced around the deserted summer house and today it struck him as older and more dilapidated than it had yesterday. It looked terribly shabby, although the weather was just as clear and sunny as the day before. On the green table there was a round mark left, probably, by yesterday’s glass from which some of the brandy had spilled. Useless and unrelated thoughts kept drifting into Alyosha’s head, as often happens during a time of idle waiting. He started wondering, for instance, why it was that when he had come into the summer house now, he had sat down without thinking in exactly the same spot as the day before, rather than anywhere else. Gradually the uncertainty of the situation began to weigh on him and he became very despondent. But he had not been there for a quarter of an hour before he suddenly heard the strumming of a guitar somewhere quite nearby. Someone must be sitting in the bushes no more than twenty yards away. Alyosha suddenly remembered that, as he was leaving the summer house the day before, he had noticed a low, green garden bench by the fence, half concealed under the bushes. Someone must be sitting there now. But who could it be? Then a male voice started singing in a sentimental falsetto to the accompaniment of a guitar: