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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read Father Paissy. “And the mother of Jesus was there; And both Jesus
was there; And both Jesus was called, and his disciples, to the
marriage.”
“Marriage? What’s that?… A marriage!” floated whirling through
Alyosha’s mind. “There is happiness for her, too… She has gone to
the feast…. No, she has not taken the knife…. That was only a
tragic phrase…. Well… tragic phrases should be forgiven, they must
be. Tragic phrases comfort the heart… Without them, sorrow would
be too heavy for men to bear. Rakitin has gone off to the back
alley. As long as Rakitin broods over his wrongs, he will always go
off to the back alley…. But the high road… The road is wide and
straight and bright as crystal, and the sun is at the end of it….
Ah!… What’s being read?”…
“And when they wanted wine, the mother of Jesus saith unto him,
They have no wine”… Alyosha heard.
“Ah, yes, I was missing that, and I didn’t want to miss it, I love
that passage: it’s Cana of Galilee, the first miracle…. Ah, that
miracle! Ah, that sweet miracle! It was not men’s grief, but their joy
Christ visited, He worked His first miracle to help men’s gladness….
‘He who loves men loves their gladness, too’… He was always
repeating that, it was one of his leading ideas… ‘There’s no
living without joy,’ Mitya says…. Yes, Mitya…. ‘Everything that is
true and good is always full of forgiveness,’ he used to say that,
too”…
“Jesus saith unto her, Woman, what has it to do
with thee or me? Mine hour not yet come.
“His mother saith unto the servants, Whatsoever
he saith unto you, do it”…
“Do it…. Gladness, the gladness of some poor, very poor,
people…. Of course they were poor, since they hadn’t wine enough
even at a wedding…. The historians write that, in those days, the
people living about the Lake of Gennesaret were the poorest that can
possibly be imagined… and another great heart, that other great
being, His Mother, knew that He had come not only to make His great
terrible sacrifice. She knew that His heart was open even to the
simple, artless merrymaking of some obscure and unlearned people,
who had warmly bidden Him to their poor wedding. ‘Mine hour is not yet
come,’ He said, with a soft smile (He must have smiled gently to her).
And, indeed, was it to make wine abundant at poor weddings He had come
down to earth? And yet He went and did as she asked Him…. Ah, he
is reading again”…
“Jesus saith unto them, Fill the waterpots with water.
And they filled them up to the brim.
“And he saith unto them, Draw out now and bear unto
the governor of the feast. And they bear it.
“When the ruler of the feast had tasted the water
that was made wine, and knew not whence it was
(but the servants which drew the water knew);
the governor of the feast called the bridegroom,
“And saith unto him, Every man at the beginning doth
set forth good wine; and when men have well drunk,
that which is worse; but thou hast kept
the good wine until now.”
“But what’s this, what’s this? Why is the room growing wider?…
Ah, yes… It’s the marriage, the wedding… yes, of course. Here
are the guests, here are the young couple sitting, and the merry crowd
and… Where is the wise governor of the feast? But who is this?
Who? Again the walls are receding…. Who is getting up there from the
great table? What!… He here, too? But he’s in the coffin… but he’s
here, too. He has stood up, he sees me, he is coming here…. God!”…
Yes, he came up to him, to him, he, the little, thin old man, with
tiny wrinkles on his face, joyful and laughing softly. There was no
coffin now, and he was in the same dress as he had worn yesterday
sitting with them, when the visitors had gathered about him. His
face was uncovered, his eyes were shining. How was this, then? He,
too, had been called to the feast. He, too, at the marriage of Cana in
Galilee….
“Yes, my dear, I am called, too, called and bidden,” he heard a
soft voice saying over him. “Why have you hidden yourself here, out of
sight? You come and join us too.”
It was his voice, the voice of Father Zossima. And it must be
he, since he called him!
The elder raised Alyosha by the hand and he rose from his knees.
“We are rejoicing,” the little, thin old man went on. “We are
drinking the new wine, the wine of new, great gladness; do you see how
many guests? Here are the bride and bridegroom, here is the wise
governor of the feast, he is tasting the new wine. Why do you wonder
at me? I gave an onion to a beggar, so I, too, am here. And many
here have given only an onion each-only one little onion…. What are
all our deeds? And you, my gentle one, you, my kind boy, you too
have known how to give a famished woman an onion to-day. Begin your
work, dear one, begin it, gentle one! Do you see our Sun, do you see
Him?”
“I am afraid… I dare not look,” whispered Alyosha.
“Do not fear Him. He is terrible in His greatness, awful in His
sublimity, but infinitely merciful. He has made Himself like unto us
from love and rejoices with us. He is changing the water into wine
that the gladness of the guests may not be cut short. He is
expecting new guests, He is calling new ones unceasingly for ever
and ever…. There they are bringing new wine. Do you see they are
bringing the vessels…”
Something glowed in Alyosha’s heart, something filled it till it
ached, tears of rapture rose from his soul…. He stretched out his
hands, uttered a cry and waked up.
Again the coffin, the open window, and the soft, solemn,
distinct reading of the Gospel. But Alyosha did not listen to the
reading. It was strange, he had fallen asleep on his knees, but now he
was on his feet, and suddenly, as though thrown forward, with three
firm rapid steps he went right up to the coffin. His shoulder
brushed against Father Paissy without his noticing it. Father Paissy
raised his eyes for an instant from his book, but looked away again at
once, seeing that something strange was happening to the boy.
Alyosha gazed for half a minute at the coffin, at the covered,
motionless dead man that lay in the coffin, with the ikon on his
breast and the peaked cap with the octangular cross on his head. He
had only just been hearing his voice, and that voice was still ringing
in his ears. He was listening, still expecting other words, but
suddenly he turned sharply and went out of the cell.
He did not stop on the steps either, but went quickly down; his
soul, overflowing with rapture, yearned for freedom, space,
openness. The vault of heaven, full of soft, shining stars,
stretched vast and fathomless above him. The Milky Way ran in two pale
streams from the zenith to the horizon. The fresh, motionless, still
night enfolded the earth. The white towers and golden domes of the
cathedral gleamed out against the sapphire sky. The gorgeous autumn
flowers, in the beds round the house, were slumbering till morning.
The silence of earth seemed to melt into the silence of the heavens.
The mystery of earth was one with the mystery of the stars….
Alyosha stood, gazed, and suddenly threw himself down on the
earth. He did not know why he embraced it. He could not have told
why he longed so irresistibly to kiss it, to kiss it all. But he
kissed it weeping, sobbing, and watering it with his tears, and
vowed passionately to love it, to love it for ever and ever. “Water
the earth with the tears of your joy and love those tears,” echoed
in his soul.
What was he weeping over?
Oh! in his rapture he was weeping even over those stars, which
were shining to him from the abyss of space, and “he was not ashamed
of that ecstasy.” There seemed to be threads from all those
innumerable worlds of God, linking his soul to them, and it was
trembling all over “in contact with other worlds.” He longed to
forgive everyone and for everything, and to beg forgiveness. Oh, not
for himself, but for all men, for all and for everything. “And
others are praying for me too,” echoed again in his soul. But with
every instant he felt clearly and, as it were, tangibly, that
something firm and unshakable as that vault of heaven had entered into
his soul. It was as though some idea had seized the sovereignty of his
mind-and it was for all his life and for ever and ever. He had fallen
on the earth a weak boy, but he rose up a resolute champion, and he
knew and felt it suddenly at the very moment of his ecstasy. And
never, never, his life long, could Alyosha forget that minute.
“Someone visited my soul in that hour,” he used to say afterwards,
with implicit faith in his words.
Within three days he left the monastery in accordance with the
words of his elder, who had bidden him “sojourn in the world.”
Mitya
Kuzma Samsonov
BUT Dmitri, to whom Grushenka, flying away to a new life, had left
her last greetings, bidding him remember the hour of her love for
ever, knew nothing of what had happened to her, and was at that moment
in a condition of feverish agitation and activity. For the last two
days he had been in such an inconceivable state of mind that he
might easily have fallen ill with brain fever, as he said himself
afterwards. Alyosha had not been able to find him the morning
before, and Ivan had not succeeded in meeting him at the tavern on the
same day. The people at his lodgings, by his orders, concealed his
movements.
He had spent those two days literally rushing in all directions,
“struggling with his destiny and trying to save himself,” as he
expressed it himself afterwards, and for some hours he even made a
dash out of the town on urgent business, terrible as it was to him
to lose sight of Grushenka for a moment. All this was explained
afterwards in detail, and confirmed by documentary evidence; but for
the present we will only note the most essential incidents of those
two terrible days immediately preceding the awful catastrophe that
broke so suddenly upon him.
Though Grushenka had, it is true, loved him for an hour, genuinely
and sincerely, yet she tortured him sometimes cruelly and mercilessly.
The worst of it was that he could never tell what she meant to do.
To prevail upon her by force or kindness was also impossible: she
would yield to nothing. She would only have become angry and turned
away from him altogether, he knew that well already. He suspected,
quite correctly, that she, too, was passing through an inward
struggle, and was in a state of extraordinary indecision, that she was
making up her mind to something, and unable to determine upon it.
And so, not without good reason, he divined, with a sinking heart,
that at moments she must simply hate him and
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