The Brothers Karamazov (65 page)

“So that’s the fairy-tale, Alyosha, and I remember it by heart because I am that wicked, horrible woman. When I said to Rakitin now that I had given away an onion, I was being proud and boastful. But to you I’ll put it this way: in my whole life I’ve never done anything more than give away an onion; I have no other good deeds to my credit, and you mustn’t say kind things about me and insist that I’m good, because I’m wicked and horrible. If you praise me, you only make me ashamed of myself . . . No, let me make a clean breast of it now. Listen, Alyosha, I was so eager to get you here, all to myself, that I promised Rakitin twenty-five rubles if he would bring you to me. Well, Rakitin, here it is!”

Grushenka walked quickly over to her desk, opened a drawer, took out a purse, fished out a twenty-five-ruble bill, and handed it to Rakitin.

“What’s that? What’s going on here? I don’t understand!” Rakitin cried out, not knowing what to do.

“Take it, Rakitin. I’m sure you won’t refuse to collect a debt,” she said and threw him the bill.

“I wouldn’t think of refusing it, not for one moment,” Rakitin said in a hoarse voice. Although he tried to hide it, he was obviously embarrassed. “I can certainly use the money. Besides, why shouldn’t a clever man take advantage of the stupidity of others?”

“All right, Rakitin, now I want you to keep out of it and not butt in, for what I’m going to say now is not for your ears. Just sit in your corner and keep quiet. I know you don’t like us and that’s fine with me. Just shut up.”

“Why the hell should I like you?” Rakitin snapped back, no longer bothering to hide his fury. He thrust the twenty-five-ruble bill into his pocket, feeling terribly awkward in front of Alyosha. He had expected her to settle with him later and was furious now, because he had been put in such an embarrassing position. Up till then, he had diplomatically restrained himself from irritating Grushenka too much and had ignored many of her biting snubs; it was obvious that she had some advantage over him that enabled her to treat him this way. But now he no longer cared.

“People love people for something,” he said, “but what has either of you two ever done for me?”

“So you must learn to love for nothing, like Alyosha.”

“What makes you think he loves you so much? And anyway, what do you see in him that you should make all this fuss over him?”

Grushenka stood in the middle of the room. She seemed very excited and a hysterical note had crept into her voice.

“Shut up, Rakitin! You don’t understand a thing . . . And don’t you ever dare address me so familiarly again. I forbid you to, once and for all. Go and sit in the corner and wait there like the flunkey you are! And you, Alyosha, listen now. I’ll tell you the whole truth, because I want you to know what a horrible creature I am. And I’m saying this because I want 
you
 to hear it and I don’t care whether Rakitin hears or not. I wanted to ruin you, Alyosha, that’s the real truth. I wanted to so badly that I promised Rakitin I’d give him money if he brought you here. And why did I want to so badly? You never even noticed how I looked at you every time we met, for you always turned away, lowered your eyes, and walked past me. And I asked everyone questions about you. I couldn’t get your face out of my mind. ‘He despises me,’ I thought, ‘he doesn’t even want to look at me.’ And that feeling took such a hold on me, I was surprised at myself, worrying about what a mere boy thought of me. ‘Why,’ I thought, ‘I’ll take him and eat him alive. And then I’ll laugh.’ I became really furious. Believe me, no one dares come near me with any ideas, you know. No one would even think of it. I have only my old Kuzma Samsonov. I was sold to him and I’m tied to him, since we were married by the devil, and there has never been any other man. But looking at you, I decided: ‘This one, I’ll eat up and when I’ve swallowed him, I’ll have a good laugh.’ So you see what a bitch I am, I whom you called your sister!

“Now that seducer of mine has arrived. And I sit here waiting for a word from him. And do you know what that seducer meant to me? Well, it’s almost five years now since Kuzma brought me here. I used to sit here, hiding myself from people. I didn’t want them to see or hear me, I was so ashamed. I was a thin, silly girl, sitting there and crying all day, staying awake at night and thinking: ‘Where is he now, my seducer? He must be with another woman, laughing at me! Ah,’ I thought, ‘if only I could see him again, I’d pay him back for everything, everything’ . . . At night, in the darkness, I’d sob into my pillow, thinking of it all the time, trying to calm myself by repeating again and again: ‘I’ll pay him back, I’ll pay him back, for everything, everything’ . . . Sometimes I’d even cry out in the darkness. But then it would dawn on me that I couldn’t do anything to him, and he must be laughing at me now, unless he had already forgotten me altogether. I would get out of bed, throw myself on the floor, and writhe there, weeping in helpless fury, until daybreak. And in the morning I’d get up feeling as wicked as a snarling dog, ready to tear the whole world to shreds. So what do you think I did? I started accumulating some capital. I became hard and callous, and I put on weight. But do you think I grew any wiser for all that? Well, I didn’t. And although no one in the whole world knows it, every night I lie there in the dark and gnash my teeth and cry with rage, just as I did five years ago, when I was just a girl, and I still keep repeating: ‘I’ll show him, I’ll show him, for what he did to me!’ . . .

“Well, now that you’ve heard all that, Alyosha, tell me what you think of this: about a month ago I got a letter from him, in which he writes that he’s a widower now and wishes to see me. It took my breath away when I read it. ‘My God,’ I thought, ‘if he comes now and just whistles for me, I’ll crawl to him, cringing like a beaten dog.’ I thought that, but I refused to believe it of myself. ‘Do I have pride or don’t I? Will I run to him or won’t I?’ I kept thinking, and all this month I’ve been even more furious with myself than I was five years ago. So now, Alyosha, that you know the whole truth, you can see what a frantic, violent creature I am! And I’ve been playing around with your brother Mitya to stop myself from running to that other man . . . Don’t say anything, Rakitin, you have no right to judge me, nor did I tell this to you. Just now, before the two of you came in, I was lying here thinking, deciding my future, and you’ll never be able to understand what I felt . . . I want you, Alyosha, to ask that young lady whom I offended not to be angry with me . . . No one in the whole world can possibly know what I’m going through . . . for I may take a knife with me when I go there, I haven’t decided yet . . .”

Unable to go on, Grushenka covered her face with her hands and threw herself onto the sofa, sobbing aloud like a small child. Alyosha stood up and walked over to Rakitin.

“Don’t be angry, Misha,” he said. “She’s offended you, but you mustn’t be angry. You heard what she said just now, didn’t you? We cannot demand so much of a human heart—we must be more merciful . . .”

In saying this, Alyosha had followed an irresistible impulse. He had felt he had to give expression to his feelings, and he had addressed himself to Rakitin. If Rakitin had not been there, he would have cried out those words to himself. But Alyosha suddenly realized that Rakitin was looking at him mockingly and he stopped short.

“They’ve loaded you with that elder of yours over there and now you’re firing your elder at me, Alexei, you little man of God,” Rakitin said with a hate-filled grin.

“Don’t laugh, Rakitin, don’t talk about the elder—he was better than any man on earth!” Alyosha cried with tears in his voice. “When I came over to you now, I was not speaking as a judge, for I myself am the lowest of the accused. What am I beside her? When I came here, I was walking to my perdition and I kept saying, ‘Fine, let it be, I don’t care’—all out of cowardice. But she, on the other hand, after five years of suffering, as soon as he uttered one sincere word to her, she forgave him for everything, forgot all that she had suffered because of him, and is now weeping tenderly. The man who offended her is back and is calling her; she is hurrying happily to him and she will not take a knife with her! But I’m not like that. I don’t know whether you are, Misha, but I certainly am not. I’ve learned a great lesson today. She is our superior in love. Had you heard the things she was telling us now before? I’m sure you hadn’t, for if you had you’d have understood it all long ago . . . And Katerina, whom she has also offended, must forgive her too. She will forgive her when she comes to know her, and she will come to know her . . . Hers is a soul that has not yet found peace, and it must be treated gently, because there may be a treasure in it.”

Alyosha could not go on. His breath failed him. Angry as he was, Rakitin gaped at him in surprise. He had never expected to hear such a long speech from Alyosha, who was usually so quiet.

“She’s certainly got herself an eloquent counsel for the defense!” he exclaimed with an aggressive chuckle. “Why, have you finally fallen for her too? Look Grushenka, our little ascetic has fallen in love with you. You’ve won!”

Grushenka lifted her head from the pillow and looked at Alyosha tenderly. A smile lighted up her face which was swollen with crying.

“Pay no attention to him, Alyosha, my little cherub. You know how he is. Your words are only wasted on him. And you, Rakitin, I was about to apologize to you for having insulted you the way I did, but now I don’t feel like doing so. Alyosha, come over here—sit down,” she said, beckoning him with a radiant smile. “That’s right, here . . . good . . . Now, I want you to tell me this.” She took him by the hand and looked intently into his eyes. “Tell me, do I still love that man, or don’t I? That’s what I kept asking myself as I lay here in the dark before you arrived: ‘Do I love him or don’t I?’ Answer that question for me, Alyosha, and whatever you say, so it will be. Shall I forgive him or not?”

“But you’ve already forgiven him,” Alyosha said with a smile.

“That’s right, I have,” she said dreamily. “That’s just the kind of unproud heart I have. So let’s drink—to a heart without pride!” She seized the champagne glass from the table, downed it, raised it in the air, and hurled it violently on the floor. The glass exploded with a ring. There was a hint of cruelty in her slightly twisted smile.

“Although perhaps I haven’t really forgiven him yet,” she said, an indefinable menace in her voice, her eyes fixed on the floor; she sounded as if she were talking to herself. “Perhaps this heart is only considering forgiveness. I’ll still have to argue with it and see how it comes out . . . You see, Alyosha, I’ve come to love my tears in those five years, to love them terribly . . . It’s possible that what I love is only the suffering he caused me, and that I really don’t care about him at all.”

“I must say, I wouldn’t want to be in his shoes now,” Rakitin hissed.

“No need to worry, Rakitin, you’ll never be in his shoes. But you’ll clean my shoes for me—that’s something I may use you for. Otherwise, a woman like me wouldn’t have anything to do with someone like you . . . Nor perhaps with someone like him either, for that matter.”

“Not even with someone like him? So why are you all dressed up then?”

“Don’t keep taunting me about being dressed up, Rakitin. You still don’t know what’s going on inside me. If I choose, I’ll tear off my dress this very minute!” she cried in a ringing voice. “You don’t understand why I’m wearing this dress. Maybe I want to appear in it before him and say: ‘Have you ever had a good look at me before?’ Why, when he saw me last I was just a thin, anemic, tearful seventeen-year-old. And I’ll get close to him, set him afire, make him crazy. ‘Well,’ I’ll tell him, ‘so now you’ve seen what I look like and that’s enough for you. Content yourself with that, my dear man, for there’s many a slip twixt cup and lip!’ So, you see, that may be the reason I’m dressed up now, my poor Rakitin,” Grushenka concluded with a wicked chuckle. “I’m crazy, Alyosha. Nothing can hold me back at times: I may rip off my dress, maim myself with a knife, burn my beautiful face, and go begging for alms. But I may also decide not to go anywhere, not to see anyone, to send Kuzma Samsonov back all the money and things he’s given me, and myself become a cleaning woman. You think I wouldn’t dare do it, Rakitin? You’re wrong. I could do it right now if I decided to. So stop annoying me. As to that other man, I’ll tell him what he can do with himself and he’ll see that I’m not for him either!”

These last words she cried out hysterically. She broke down, covered her face with her hands again, and threw herself on the sofa, her whole body shaken with sobs. Rakitin stood up.

“We must be on our way,” he said. “It’s getting late. We won’t be able to get back into the monastery.”

Grushenka leapt up at once.

“And you, Alyosha, do you really want to leave? Do you?” she cried in pained surprise. “What are you doing to me, Alyosha? Now that you’ve put me into this state, put all my emotions in a turmoil, you want to leave me to live through this night all alone.”

“You don’t expect him to spend the night here alone with you, do you? But it’s up to you, really. I’m leaving,” Rakitin said sarcastically.

“Shut up, you vicious creature!” Grushenka shouted angrily at him. “You’ve never spoken to me as he has tonight.”

“What did he say to you that pleased you so much?” Rakitin said irritably.

“I can’t tell you what it was. I wouldn’t know. He just spoke straight to my heart and turned it upside down . . . Perhaps he was the first one, perhaps the only one, to take pity on me—yes, that may be it! Why didn’t you come to me sooner, Alyosha, my cherub?”

All of a sudden she was kneeling before him as if in a frenzy.

“I’ve waited all my life for someone like you,” she said. “I knew he’d come one day and forgive me. I believed he’d love me, unclean as I am, love me truly, not just like an animal . . .”

“Why, what have I done?” Alyosha said with a shy smile. He bent down and took her tenderly by the hand. “Perhaps It’s just an onion,” he said. “I gave you just one tiny little onion, no more . . .” And he himself burst into tears.

There was a sudden noise at the entrance door. Someone entered the house. Grushenka got up quickly, looking terribly frightened.