The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoyevsky (easy to read books for adults list .txt) 📕

acted here.”

“And I understand nothing of that second half so far,” said

Alyosha.

“And I? Do you suppose I understand it?”

“Stop, Dmitri. There’s one important question. Tell me, you were

betrothed, betrothed still?”

“We weren’t betrothed at once, not for three months after that

adventure. The next day I told myself that the incident was closed,

concluded, that there would be no sequel. It seemed to me caddish to

make her an offer. On her side she gave no sign of life for the six

weeks that she remained in the town; except, indeed, for one action.

The day after her visit the maid-servant slipped round with an

envelope addressed to me. I tore it open; it contained the change

out of the banknote. Only four thousand five hundred roubles was

needed, but there was a discount of about two hundred on changing

it. She only sent me about two hundred and sixty. I don’t remember

exactly, but not a note, not a word of explanation. I searched the

packet for a pencil mark n-nothing! Well, I spent the rest of the

money on such an orgy that the new major was obliged to reprimand me.

“Well, the lieutenant-colonel produced the battalion money, to the

astonishment of everyone, for nobody believed that he had the money

untouched. He’d no sooner paid it than he fell ill, took to his bed,

and, three weeks later, softening of the brain set in, and he died

five days afterwards. He was buried with military honours, for he

had not had time to receive his discharge. Ten days after his funeral,

Katerina Ivanovna, with her aunt and sister, went to Moscow. And,

behold, on the very day they went away (I hadn’t seen them, didn’t see

them off or take leave) I received a tiny note, a sheet of thin blue

paper, and on it only one line in pencil: ‘I will write to you.

Wait. K.’ And that was all.

“I’ll explain the rest now, in two words. In Moscow their fortunes

changed with the swiftness of lightning and the unexpectedness of an

Arabian fairy-tale. That general’s widow, their nearest relation,

suddenly lost the two nieces who were her heiresses and next-of-kin-both died in the same week of smallpox. The old lady, prostrated with

grief, welcomed Katya as a daughter, as her one hope, clutched at her,

altered her will in Katya’s favour. But that concerned the future.

Meanwhile she gave her, for present use, eighty thousand roubles, as a

marriage portion, to do what she liked with. She was an hysterical

woman. I saw something of her in Moscow, later.

“Well, suddenly I received by post four thousand five hundred

roubles. I was speechless with surprise, as you may suppose. Three

days later came the promised letter. I have it with me now. You must

read it. She offers to be my wife, offers herself to me. ‘I love you

madly, she says, ‘even if you don’t love me, never mind. Be my

husband. Don’t be afraid. I won’t hamper you in any way. I will be

your chattel. I will be the carpet under your feet. I want to love you

for ever. I want to save you from yourself.’ Alyosha, I am not

worthy to repeat those lines in my vulgar words and in my vulgar tone,

my everlastingly vulgar tone, that I can never cure myself of. That

letter stabs me even now. Do you think I don’t mind-that I don’t mind

still? I wrote her an answer at once, as it was impossible for me to

go to Moscow. I wrote to her with tears. One thing I shall be

ashamed of for ever. I referred to her being rich and having a dowry

while I was only a stuck-up beggar! I mentioned money! I ought to have

borne it in silence, but it slipped from my pen. Then I wrote at

once to Ivan, and told him all I could about it in a letter of six

pages, and sent him to her. Why do you look like that? Why are you

staring at me? Yes, Ivan fell in love with her; he’s in love with

her still. I know that. I did a stupid thing, in the world’s

opinion; but perhaps that one stupid thing may be the saving of us all

now. Oo! Don’t you see what a lot she thinks of Ivan, how she respects

him? When she compares us, do you suppose she can love a man like

me, especially after all that has happened here?”

“But I’m convinced that she does love a man like you, and not a

man like him.”

“She loves her own virtue, not me.” The words broke involuntarily,

and almost malignantly, from Dmitri. He laughed, but a minute later

his eyes gleamed, he flushed crimson and struck the table violently

with his fist.

“I swear, Alyosha,” he cried, with intense and genuine anger at

himself; “You may not believe me, but as God is Holy, and as Christ is

God, I swear that though I smiled at her lofty sentiments just now,

I know that I am a million times baser in soul than she, and that

these lofty sentiments of hers are as sincere as a heavenly angel’s.

That’s the tragedy of it-that I know that for certain. What if anyone

does show off a bit? Don’t I do it myself? And yet I’m sincere, I’m

sincere. As for Ivan, I can understand how he must be cursing nature

now with his intellect, too! To see the preference given-to whom,

to what? To a monster who, though he is betrothed and all eyes are

fixed on him, can’t restrain his debaucheries-and before the very

eyes of his betrothed! And a man like me is preferred, while he is

rejected. And why? Because a girl wants to sacrifice her life and

destiny out of gratitude. It’s ridiculous! I’ve never said a word of

this to Ivan, and Ivan of course has never dropped a hint of the

sort to me. But destiny will be accomplished, and the best man will

hold his ground while the undeserving one will vanish into his

back-alley for ever-his filthy back-alley, his beloved back-alley,

where he is at home and where he will sink in filth and stench at

his own free will and with enjoyment. I’ve been talking foolishly.

I’ve no words left. I used them at random, but it will be as I have

said. I shall drown in the back-alley, and she will marry Ivan.”

“Stop, Dmitri,” Alyosha interrupted again with great anxiety.

“There’s one thing you haven’t made clear yet: you are still betrothed

all the same, aren’t you? How can you break off the engagement if she,

your betrothed, doesn’t want to?”

“Yes, formally and solemnly betrothed. It was all done on my

arrival in Moscow, with great ceremony, with ikons, all in fine style.

The general’s wife blessed us, and-would you believe it?-

congratulated Katya. You’ve made a good choice,’ she said, ‘I see

right through him.’ And-would you believe it?- she didn’t like

Ivan, and hardly greeted him. I had a lot of talk with Katya in

Moscow. I told her about myself-sincerely, honourably. She listened

to everything.

There was sweet confusion,

There were tender words.

Though there were proud words, too. She wrung out of me a mighty

promise to reform. I gave my promise, and here- “

“What?”

“Why, I called to you and brought you out here to-day, this very

day-remember it-to send you-this very day again-to Katerina

Ivanovna, and- “

“To tell her that I shall never come to see her again. Say, ‘He

sends you his compliments.’”

“But is that possible?”

“That’s just the reason I’m sending you, in my place, because it’s

impossible. And, how could I tell her myself?”

“And where are you going?”

“To the back-alley.”

“To Grushenka, then!” Alyosha exclaimed mournfully, clasping his

hands. “Can Rakitin really have told the truth? I thought that you had

just visited her, and that was all.”

“Can a betrothed man pay such visits? Is such a thing possible and

with such a betrothed, and before the eyes of all the world?

Confound it, I have some honour! As soon as I began visiting

Grushenka, I ceased to be betrothed, and to be an honest man. I

understand that. Why do you look at me? You see, I went in the first

place to beat her. I had heard, and I know for a fact now, that that

captain, father’s agent, had given Grushenka an I.O.U. of mine for her

to sue me for payment, so as to put an end to me. They wanted to scare

me. I went to beat her. I had had a glimpse of her before. She doesn’t

strike one at first sight. I knew about her old merchant, who’s

lying ill now, paralysed; but he’s leaving her a decent little sum.

I knew, too, that she was fond of money, that she hoarded it, and lent

it at a wicked rate of interest, that she’s a merciless cheat and

swindler. I went to beat her, and I stayed. The storm broke-it struck

me down like the plague. I’m plague-stricken still, and I know that

everything is over, that there will never be anything more for me. The

cycle of the ages is accomplished. That’s my position. And though

I’m a beggar, as fate would have it, I had three thousand just then in

my pocket. I drove with Grushenka to Mokroe, a place twenty-five

versts from here. I got Gypsies there and champagne and made all the

peasants there drunk on it, and all the women and girls. I sent the

thousands flying. In three days’ time I was stripped bare, but a hero.

Do you suppose the hero had gained his end? Not a sign of it from her.

I tell you that rogue, Grushenka, has a supple curve all over her

body. You can see it in her little foot, even in her little toe. I saw

it, and kissed it, but that was all, I swear! ‘I’ll marry you if you

like,’ she said, ‘you’re a beggar, you know. Say that you won’t beat

me, and will let me do anything I choose, and perhaps I will marry

you.’ She laughed, and she’s laughing still!”

Dmitri leapt up with a sort of fury. He seemed all at once as

though he were drunk. His eyes became suddenly bloodshot.

“And do you really mean to marry her?”

“At once, if she will. And if she won’t, I shall stay all the

same. I’ll be the porter at her gate. Alyosha!” he cried. He stopped

short before him, and taking him by the shoulders began shaking him

violently. “Do you know, you innocent boy, that this is all

delirium, senseless delirium, for there’s a tragedy here. Let me

tell you, Alexey, that I may be a low man, with low and degraded

passions, but a thief and a pickpocket Dmitri Karamazov never can

be. Well, then; let me tell you that I am a thief and a pickpocket.

That very morning, just before I went to beat Grushenka, Katerina

Ivanovna sent for me, and in strict secrecy (why I don’t know, I

suppose she had some reason) asked me to go to the chief town of the

province and to post three thousand roubles to Agafya Ivanovna in

Moscow, so that nothing should be known of it in the town here. So I

had that three thousand roubles in my pocket when I went to see

Grushenka, and it was that money we spent at Mokroe. Afterwards I

pretended I had been to the town,