The Brothers Karamazov, Fyodor Dostoyevsky [children's books read aloud TXT] 📗

how could I be such a fool

as to think I could love anyone after you? Do you forgive me, Mitya?

Do you forgive me or not? Do you love me? Do you love me?” She

jumped up and held him with both hands on his shoulders. Mitya, dumb

with rapture, gazed into her eyes, at her face, at her smile, and

suddenly clasped her tightly his arms and kissed her passionately.

 

“You will forgive me for having tormented you? It was through

spite I tormented you all. It was for spite I drove the old man out of

his mind…. Do you remember how you drank at my house one day and

broke the wineglass? I remembered that and I broke a glass to-day and

drank ‘to my vile heart.’ Mitya, my falcon, why don’t you kiss me?

He kissed me once, and now he draws back and looks and listens. Why

listen to me? Kiss me, kiss me hard, that’s right. if you love,

well, then, love! I’ll be your slave now, your slave for the rest of

my life. It’s sweet to be a slave. Kiss me! Beat me, ill-treat me,

do what you will with me…. And I do deserve to suffer. Stay, wait,

afterwards, I won’t have that…” she suddenly thrust him away. “Go

along, Mitya, I’ll come and have some wine, I want to be drunk, I’m

going to get drunk and dance; I must, I must!” She tore herself away

from him and disappeared behind the curtain. Mitya followed like a

drunken man.

 

“Yes, come what may-whatever may happen now, for one minute I’d

give the whole world,” he thought. Grushenka did, in fact, toss off

a whole glass of champagne at one gulp, and became at once very tipsy.

She sat down in the same chair as before, with a blissful smile on her

face. Her cheeks were glowing, her lips were burning, her flashing

eyes were moist; there was passionate appeal in her eyes. Even

Kalgonov felt a stir at the heart and went up to her.

 

“Did you feel how I kissed you when you were asleep just now?” she

said thickly. “I’m drunk now, that’s what it is…. And aren’t you

drunk? And why isn’t Mitya drinking? Why don’t you drink, Mitya? I’m

drunk, and you don’t drink…”

 

“I am drunk! I’m drunk as it is… drunk with you… and now

I’ll be drunk with wine, too.”

 

He drank off another glass, and-he thought it strange himself-that glass made him completely drunk. He was suddenly drunk,

although till that moment he had been quite sober, he remembered that.

From that moment everything whirled about him, as though he were

delirious. He walked, laughed, talked to everybody, without knowing

what he was doing. Only one persistent burning sensation made itself

felt continually, “like a red-hot coal in his heart,” he said

afterwards. He went up to her, sat beside her, gazed at her,

listened to her…. She became very talkative, kept calling everyone

to her, and beckoned to different girls out of the chorus. When the

girl came up, she either kissed her, or made the sign of the cross

over her. In another minute she might have cried. She was greatly

amused by the “little old man,” as she called Maximov. He ran up every

minute to kiss her hands, each little finger,” and finally he danced

another dance to an old song, which he sang himself. He danced with

special vigour to the refrain:

 

The little pig says-umph! umph! umph!

 

The little calf says-moo, moo, moo,

 

The little duck says-quack, quack, quack,

 

The little goose says-ga, ga, ga.

 

The hen goes strutting through the porch;

 

Troo-roo-roo-roo-roo, she’ll say,

 

Troo-roo-roo-roo-roo, she’ll say!

 

“Give him something, Mitya,” said Grushenka. “Give him a

present, he’s poor, you know. Ah, the poor, the insulted!… Do you

know, Mitya, I shall go into a nunnery. No, I really shall one day.

Alyosha said something to me to-day that I shall remember all my

life…. Yes…. But to-day let us dance. To-morrow to the nunnery,

but to-day we’ll dance. I want to play to-day, good people, and what

of it? God will forgive us. If I were God, I’d forgive everyone: ‘My

dear sinners, from this day forth I forgive you.’ I’m going to beg

forgiveness: ‘Forgive me, good people, a silly wench.’ I’m a beast,

that’s what I am. But I want to pray. I gave a little onion. Wicked as

I’ve been, I want to pray. Mitya, let them dance, don’t stop them.

Everyone in the world is good. Everyone-even the worst of them. The

world’s a nice place. Though we’re bad the world’s all right. We’re

good and bad, good and bad…. Come, tell me, I’ve something to ask

you: come here everyone, and I’ll ask you: Why am I so good? You

know I am good. I’m very good…. Come, why am I so good?”

 

So Grushenka babbled on, getting more and more drunk. At last

she announced that she was going to dance, too. She got up from her

chair, staggering. “Mitya, don’t give me any more wine-if I ask

you, don’t give it to me. Wine doesn’t give peace. Everything’s

going round, the stove, and everything. I want to dance. Let

everyone see how I dance… let them see how beautifully I dance…”

 

She really meant it. She pulled a white cambric handkerchief out

of her pocket, and took it by one corner in her right hand, to wave it

in the dance. Mitya ran to and fro, the girls were quiet, and got

ready to break into a dancing song at the first signal. Maximov,

hearing that Grushenka wanted to dance, squealed with delight, and ran

skipping about in front of her, humming:

 

With legs so slim and sides so trim

 

And its little tail curled tight.

 

But Grushenka waved her handkerchief at him and drove him away.

 

“Sh-h! Mitya, why don’t they come? Let everyone come… to look

on. Call them in, too, that were locked in…. Why did you lock them

in? Tell them I’m going to dance. Let them look on, too…”

 

Mitya walked with a drunken swagger to the locked door, and

began knocking to the Poles with his fist.

 

“Hi, you… Podvysotskis! Come, she’s going to dance. She calls

you.”

 

“Lajdak!” one of the Poles shouted in reply.

 

“You’re a lajdak yourself! You’re a little scoundrel, that’s

what you are.”

 

“Leave off laughing at Poland,” said Kalganov sententiously. He

too was drunk.

 

“Be quiet, boy! If I call him a scoundrel, it doesn’t mean that

I called all Poland so. One lajdak doesn’t make a Poland. Be quiet, my

pretty boy, eat a sweetmeat.”

 

“Ach, what fellows! As though they were not men. Why won’t they

make friends?” said Grushenka, and went forward to dance. The chorus

broke into “Ah, my porch, my new porch!” Grushenka flung back her

head, half opened her lips, smiled, waved her handkerchief, and

suddenly, with a violent lurch, stood still in the middle of the room,

looking bewildered.

 

“I’m weak…” she said in an exhausted voice. “Forgive me….

I’m weak, I can’t…. I’m sorry.”

 

She bowed to the chorus, and then began bowing in all directions.

 

“I’m sorry…. Forgive me…”

 

“The lady’s been drinking. The pretty lady has been drinking,”

voices were heard saying.

 

“The lady’s drunk too much,” Maximov explained to the girls,

giggling.

 

“Mitya, lead me away… take me,” said Grushenka helplessly. Mitya

pounced on her, snatched her up in his arms, and carried the

precious burden through the curtains.

 

“Well, now I’ll go,” thought Kalganov, and walking out of the blue

room, he closed the two halves of the door after him. But the orgy

in the larger room went on and grew louder and louder. Mitya laid

Grushenka on the bed and kissed her on the lips.

 

“Don’t touch me…” she faltered, in an imploring voice. “Don’t

touch me, till I’m yours…. I’ve told you I’m yours, but don’t

touch me… spare me…. With them here, with them close, you mustn’t.

He’s here. It’s nasty here…”

 

“I’ll obey you! I won’t think of it… I worship you!” muttered

Mitya. “Yes, it’s nasty here, it’s abominable.”

 

And still holding her in his arms, he sank on his knees by the

bedside.

 

“I know, though you’re a brute, you’re generous,” Grushenka

articulated with difficulty. “It must be honourable… it shall be

honourable for the future… and let us be honest, let us be good, not

brutes, but good… take me away, take me far away, do you hear? I

don’t want it to be here, but far, far away…”

 

“Oh, yes, yes, it must be!” said Mitya, pressing her in his

arms. “I’ll take you and we’ll fly away…. Oh, I’d give my whole life

for one year only to know about that blood!”

 

“What blood?” asked Grushenka, bewildered.

 

“Nothing,” muttered Mitya, through his teeth. “Grusha, you

wanted to be honest, but I’m a thief. But I’ve stolen money from

Katya…. Disgrace, a disgrace!”

 

“From Katya, from that young lady? No, you didn’t steal it. Give

it back to her, take it from me…. Why make a fuss? Now everything of

mine is yours. What does money matter? We shall waste it anyway….

Folks like us are bound to waste money. But we’d better go and work

the land. I want to dig the earth with my own hands. We must work,

do you hear? Alyosha said so. I won’t be your mistress, I’ll be

faithful to you, I’ll be your slave, I’ll work for you. We’ll go to

the young lady and bow down to her together, so that she may forgive

us, and then we’ll go away. And if she won’t forgive us, we’ll go,

anyway. Take her money and love me…. Don’t love her…. Don’t love

her any more. If you love her, I shall strangle her…. I’ll put out

both her eyes with a needle…”

 

“I love you. love only you. I’ll love you in Siberia…”

 

“Why Siberia? Never mind, Siberia, if you like. I don’t care…

we’ll work… there’s snow in Siberia…. I love driving in the

snow… and must have bells…. Do you hear, there’s a bell ringing?

Where is that bell ringing? There are people coming…. Now it’s

stopped.”

 

She closed her eyes, exhausted, and suddenly fell asleep for an

instant. There had certainly been the sound of a bell in the distance,

but the ringing had ceased. Mitya let his head sink on her breast.

He did not notice that the bell had ceased ringing, nor did he

notice that the songs had ceased, and that instead of singing and

drunken clamour there was absolute stillness in the house. Grushenka

opened her eyes.

 

“What’s the matter? Was I asleep? Yes… a bell… I’ve been

asleep and dreamt I was driving over the snow with bells, and I dozed.

I was with someone I loved, with you. And far, far away. I was holding

you and kissing you, nestling close to you. I was cold, and the snow

glistened…. You know how the snow glistens at night when the moon

shines. It was as though I was not on earth. I woke up, and my dear

one is close to me. How sweet that is!…”

 

“Close to you,” murmured Mitya, kissing her dress, her bosom,

her hands. And suddenly he had a strange fancy: it seemed to him

that she was looking straight before her, not at him, not into his

face, but over his head, with an intent, almost uncanny fixity. An

expression of wonder, almost of alarm, came suddenly into her face.

 

“Mitya, who is that looking at