The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoyevsky (easy to read books for adults list .txt) 📕
"Those innocent eyes slit my soul up like a razor," he used to say afterwards, with his loathsome snigger. In a man so depraved this might, of course, mean no more than sensual attraction. As he had received no dowry with his wife, and had, so to speak, taken her "from the halter," he did not stand on ceremony with her. Making her feel that she had "wronged" him, he took advantage of her phenomenal meekness and submissiveness to trample on the elemen
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that man or not? The man who wronged me, do I love him or not?
Before you came, I lay here in the dark, asking my heart whether I
loved him. Decide for me, Alyosha, the time has come, it shall be as
you say. Am I to forgive him or not?”
“But you have forgiven him already,” said Alyosha, smiling.
“Yes, I really have forgiven him,” Grushenka murmured
thoughtfully. “What an abject heart! To my abject heart!” She snatched
up a glass from the table, emptied it at a gulp, lifted it in the
air and flung it on the floor. The glass broke with a crash. A
little cruel line came into her smile.
“Perhaps I haven’t forgiven him, though,” she said, with a sort of
menace in her voice, and she dropped her eyes to the ground as
though she were talking to herself. “Perhaps my heart is only
getting ready to forgive. I shall struggle with my heart. You see,
Alyosha, I’ve grown to love my tears in these five years…. Perhaps I
only love my resentment, not him…”
“Well, I shouldn’t care to be in his shoes,” hissed Rakitin.
“Well, you won’t be, Rakitin, you’ll never be in his shoes. You
shall black my shoes, Rakitin, that’s the place you are fit for.
You’ll never get a woman like me… and he won’t either, perhaps…”
“Won’t he? Then why are you dressed up like that?” said Rakitin,
with a venomous sneer.
“Don’t taunt me with dressing up, Rakitin, you don’t know all that
is in my heart! If I choose to tear off my finery, I’ll tear it off at
once, this minute,” she cried in a resonant voice. “You don’t know
what that finery is for, Rakitin! Perhaps I shall see him and say:
‘Have you ever seen me look like this before?’ He left me a thin,
consumptive cry-baby of seventeen. I’ll sit by him, fascinate him
and work him up. ‘Do you see what I am like now?’ I’ll say to him;
‘well, and that’s enough for you, my dear sir, there’s many a slip
twixt the cup and the lip! That may be what the finery is for,
Rakitin.” Grushenka finished with a malicious laugh. “I’m violent
and resentful, Alyosha, I’ll tear off my finery, I’ll destroy my
beauty, I’ll scorch my face, slash it with a knife, and turn beggar.
If I choose, I won’t go anywhere now to see anyone. If I choose,
I’ll send Kuzma back all he has ever given me, to-morrow, and all
his money and I’ll go out charing for the rest of my life. You think I
wouldn’t do it, Rakitin, that I would not dare to do it? I would, I
would, I could do it directly, only don’t exasperate me… and I’ll
send him about his business, I’ll snap my fingers in his face, he
shall never see me again!”
She uttered the last words in an hysterical scream, but broke down
again, hid her face in her hands, buried it in the pillow and shook
with sobs.
Rakitin got up.
“It’s time we were off,” he said, “it’s late, we shall be shut out
of the monastery.”
Grushenka leapt up from her place.
“Surely you don’t want to go, Alyosha!” she cried, in mournful
surprise. “What are you doing to me? You’ve stirred up my feeling,
tortured me, and now you’ll leave me to face this night alone!”
“He can hardly spend the night with you! Though if he wants to,
let him! I’ll go alone,” Rakitin scoffed jeeringly.
“Hush, evil tongue!” Grushenka cried angrily at him; “you never
said such words to me as he has come to say.”
“What has he said to you so special?” asked Rakitin irritably.
“I can’t say, I don’t know. I don’t know what he said to me, it
went straight to my heart; he has wrung my heart…. He is the
first, the only one who has pitied me, that’s what it is. Why did
you not come before, you angel?” She fell on her knees before him as
though in a sudden frenzy. “I’ve been waiting all my life for
someone like you, I knew that someone like you would come and
forgive me. I believed that, nasty as I am, someone would really
love me, not only with a shameful love!”
“What have I done to you?” answered Alyosha, bending over her with
a tender smile, and gently taking her by the hands; “I only gave you
an onion, nothing but a tiny little onion, that was all!”
He was moved to tears himself as he said it. At that moment
there was a sudden noise in the passage, someone came into the hall.
Grushenka jumped up, seeming greatly alarmed. Fenya ran noisily into
the room, crying out:
“Mistress, mistress darling, a messenger has galloped up,” she
cried, breathless and joyful. “A carriage from Mokroe for you, Timofey
the driver, with three horses, they are just putting in fresh
horses…. A letter, here’s the letter, mistress.”
A letter was in her hand and she waved it in the air all the while
she talked. Grushenka snatched the letter from her and carried it to
the candle. It was only a note, a few lines. She read it in one
instant.
“He has sent for me,” she cried, her face white and distorted,
with a wan smile; “he whistles! Crawl back, little dog!”
But only for one instant she stood as though hesitating;
suddenly the blood rushed to her head and sent a glow to her cheeks.
“I will go,” she cried; “five years of my life! Goodbye!
Goodbye, Alyosha, my fate is sealed. Go, go, leave me all of you,
don’t let me see you again! Grushenka is flying to a new life….
Don’t you remember evil against me either, Rakitin. I may be going
to my death! Ugh! I feel as though I were drunk!”
She suddenly left them and ran into her bedroom.
“Well, she has no thoughts for us now!” grumbled Rakitin. “Let’s
go, or we may hear that feminine shriek again. I am sick of all
these tears and cries.”
Alyosha mechanically let himself be led out. In the yard stood a
covered cart. Horses were being taken out of the shafts, men were
running to and fro with a lantern. Three fresh horses were being led
in at the open gate. But when Alyosha and Rakitin reached the bottom
of the steps, Grushenka’s bedroom window was suddenly opened and she
called in a ringing voice after Alyosha:
“Alyosha, give my greetings to your brother Mitya and tell him not
to remember evil against me, though I have brought him misery. And
tell him, too, in my words: ‘Grushenka has fallen to a scoundrel,
and not to you, noble heart.’ And add, too, that Grushenka loved him
only one hour, only one short hour she loved him-so let him
remember that hour all his life-say, ‘Grushenka tells you to!’
She ended in a voice full of sobs. The window was shut with a
slam.
“H’m, h’m!” growled Rakitin, laughing, “she murders your brother
Mitya and then tells him to remember it all his life! What ferocity!”
Alyosha made no reply, he seemed not to have heard. He walked fast
beside Rakitin as though in a terrible hurry. He was lost in thought
and moved mechanically. Rakitin felt a sudden twinge as though he
had been touched on an open wound. He had expected something quite
different by bringing Grushenka and Alyosha together. Something very
different from what he had hoped for had happened.
“He is a Pole, that officer of hers,” he began again,
restraining himself; “and indeed he is not an officer at all now. He
served in the customs in Siberia, somewhere on the Chinese frontier,
some puny little beggar of a Pole, I expect. Lost his job, they say.
He’s heard now that Grushenka’s saved a little money, so he’s turned
up again-that’s the explanation of the mystery.”
Again Alyosha seemed not to hear. Rakitin could not control
himself.
“Well, so you’ve saved the sinner?” he laughed spitefully. “Have
you turned the Magdalene into the true path? Driven out the seven
devils, eh? So you see the miracles you were looking out for just
now have come to pass!”
“Hush, Rakitin,” Alyosha, answered with an aching heart.
“So you despise me now for those twenty-five roubles? I’ve sold my
friend, you think. But you are not Christ, you know, and I am not
Judas.”
“Oh, Rakitin, I assure you I’d forgotten about it,” cried Alyosha,
“you remind me of it yourself…”
But this was the last straw for Rakitin.
“Damnation take you all and each of you” he cried suddenly, “why
the devil did I take you up? I don’t want to know you from this time
forward. Go alone, there’s your road!” And he turned abruptly into
another street, leaving Alyosha alone in the dark. Alyosha came out of
the town and walked across the fields to the monastery.
Cana of Galilee
IT was very late, according to the monastery ideas, when Alyosha
returned to the hermitage; the door-keeper let him in by a special
entrance. It had struck nine o’clock-the hour of rest and repose
after a day of such agitation for all. Alyosha timidly opened the door
and went into the elder’s cell where his coffin was now standing.
There was no one in the cell but Father Paissy, reading the Gospel
in solitude over the coffin, and the young novice Porfiry, who,
exhausted by the previous night’s conversation and the disturbing
incidents of the day, was sleeping the deep sound sleep of youth on
the floor of the other room. Though Father Paissy heard Alyosha come
in, he did not even look in his direction. Alyosha turned to the right
from the door to the corner, fell on his knees and began to pray.
His soul was overflowing but with mingled feelings; no single
sensation stood out distinctly; on the contrary, one drove out another
in a slow, continual rotation. But there was a sweetness in his
heart and, strange to say, Alyosha was not surprised at it. Again he
saw that coffin before him, the hidden dead figure so precious to him,
but the weeping and poignant grief of the morning was no longer aching
in his soul. As soon as he came in, he fell down before the coffin
as before a holy shrine, but joy, joy was glowing in his mind and in
his heart. The one window of the cell was open, the air was fresh
and cool. “So the smell must have become stronger, if they opened
the window,” thought Alyosha. But even this thought of the smell of
corruption, which had seemed to him so awful and humiliating a few
hours before, no longer made him feel miserable or indignant. He began
quietly praying, but he soon felt that he was praying almost
mechanically. Fragments of thought floated through his soul, flashed
like stars and went out again at once, to be succeeded by others.
But yet there was reigning in his soul a sense of the wholeness of
things-something steadfast and comforting-and he was aware of it
himself. Sometimes he began praying ardently, he longed to pour out
his thankfulness and love…
But when he had begun to pray, he passed suddenly to something
else, and sank into thought, forgetting both the prayer and what had
interrupted it. He began listening to what Father Paissy was
reading, but worn out with exhaustion he gradually began to doze.
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