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

Chapter 4

The Lost Dog

 

KOLYA leaned against the fence with an air of dignity, waiting for

Alyosha to appear. Yes, he had long wanted to meet him. He had heard a

great deal about him from the boys, but hitherto he had always

maintained an appearance of disdainful indifference when he was

mentioned, and he had even “criticised” what he heard about Alyosha.

But secretely he had a great longing to make his acquaintance; there

was something sympathetic and attractive in all he was told about

Alyosha. So the present moment was important: to begin with, he had to

show himself at his best, to show his independence. “Or he’ll think of

me as thirteen and take me for a boy, like the rest of them. And

what are these boys to him? I shall ask him when I get to know him.

It’s a pity I am so short, though. Tuzikov is younger than I am, yet

he is half a head taller. But I have a clever face. I am not

good-looking. I know I’m hideous, but I’ve a clever face. I mustn’t

talk too freely; if I fall into his arms all at once, he may think-Tfoo! how horrible if he should think- !”

 

Such were the thoughts that excited Kolya while he was doing his

utmost to assume the most independent air. What distressed him most

was his being so short; he did not mind so much his “hideous” face, as

being so short. On the wall in a corner at home he had the year before

made a pencil-mark to show his height, and every two months since he

anxiously measured himself against it to see how much he had gained.

But alas! he grew very slowly, and this sometimes reduced him almost

to despair. His face was in reality by no means “hideous”; on the

contrary, it was rather attractive, with a fair, pale skin,

freckled. His small, lively grey eyes had a fearless look, and often

glowed with feeling. He had rather high cheekbones; small, very red,

but not very thick, lips; his nose was small and unmistakably turned

up. “I’ve a regular pug nose, a regular pug nose,” Kolya used to

mutter to himself when he looked in the looking-glass, and he always

left it with indignation. “But perhaps I haven’t got a clever face?”

he sometimes thought, doubtful even of that. But it must not be

supposed that his mind was preoccupied with his face and his height.

On the contrary, however bitter the moments before the looking-glass

were to him, he quickly forgot them, and forgot them for a long

time, “abandoning himself entirely to ideas and to real life,” as he

formulated it to himself.

 

Alyosha came out quickly and hastened up to Kolya. Before he

reached him, Kolya could see that he looked delighted. “Can he be so

glad to see me?” Kolya wondered, feeling pleased. We may note here, in

passing, that Alyosha’s appearance had undergone a complete change

since we saw him last. He had abandoned his cassock and was wearing

now a wellcut coat, a soft, round hat, and his hair had been cropped

short. All this was very becoming to him, and he looked quite

handsome. His charming face always had a good-humoured expression; but

there was a gentleness and serenity in his good-humour. To Kolya’s

surprise, Alyosha came out to him just as he was, without an overcoat.

He had evidently come in haste. He held out his hand to Kolya at once.

 

“Here you are at last! How anxious we’ve been to see you!”

 

“There were reasons which you shall know directly. Anyway, I am

glad to make your acquaintance. I’ve long been hoping for an

opportunity, and have heard a great deal about you,” Kolya muttered, a

little breathless.

 

“We should have met anyway. I’ve heard a great deal about you,

too; but you’ve been a long time coming here.”

 

“Tell me, how are things going?”

 

“Ilusha is very ill. He is certainly dying.”

 

“How awful! You must admit that medicine is a fraud, Karamazov,”

cried Kolya warmly.

 

“Ilusha has mentioned you often, very often, even in his sleep, in

delirium, you know. One can see that you used to be very, very dear to

him… before the incident… with the knife…. Then there’s

another reason…. Tell me, is that your dog?”

 

“Yes Perezvon.”

 

“Not Zhutchka?” Alyosha looked at Kolya with eyes full of pity.

“Is she lost for ever?”

 

“I know you would all like it to be Zhutchka. I’ve heard all about

it.” Kolya smiled mysteriously. “Listen, Karamazov, I’ll tell you

all about it. That’s what I came for; that’s what I asked you to

come out here for, to explain the whole episode to you before we go

in,” he began with animation. “You see, Karamazov, Ilusha came into

the preparatory class last spring. Well, you know what our preparatory

class is-a lot of small boys. They began teasing Ilusha at once. I am

two classes higher up, and, of course, I only look on at them from a

distance. I saw the boy was weak and small, but he wouldn’t give in to

them; he fought with them. I saw he was proud, and his eyes were

full of fire. I like children like that. And they teased him all the

more. The worst of it was he was horribly dressed at the time, his

breeches were too small for him, and there were holes in his boots.

They worried him about it; they jeered at him. That I can’t stand. I

stood up for him at once, and gave it to them hot. I beat them, but

they adore me, do you know, Karamazov?” Kolya boasted impulsively;

“but I am always fond of children. I’ve two chickens in my hands at

home now-that’s what detained me to-day. So they left off beating

Ilusha and I took him under my protection. I saw the boy was proud.

I tell you that, the boy was proud; but in the end he became slavishly

devoted to me: he did my slightest bidding, obeyed me as though I were

God, tried to copy me. In the intervals between the classes he used to

run to me at once’ and I’d go about with him. On Sundays, too. They

always laugh when an older boy makes friends with a younger one like

that; but that’s a prejudice. If it’s my fancy, that’s enough. I am

teaching him, developing him. Why shouldn’t I develop him if I like

him? Here you, Karamazov, have taken up with all these nestlings. I

see you want to influence the younger generation-to develop them,

to be of use to them, and I assure you this trait in your character,

which I knew by hearsay, attracted me more than anything. Let us get

to the point, though. I noticed that there was a sort of softness

and sentimentality coming over the boy, and you know I have a positive

hatred of this sheepish sentimentality, and I have had it from a baby.

There were contradictions in him, too: he was proud, but he was

slavishly devoted to me, and yet all at once his eyes would flash

and he’d refuse to agree with me; he’d argue, fly into a rage. I

used sometimes to propound certain ideas; I could see that it was

not so much that he disagreed with the ideas, but that he was simply

rebelling against me, because I was cool in responding to his

endearments. And so, in order to train him properly, the tenderer he

was, the colder I became. I did it on purpose: that was my idea. My

object was to form his character, to lick him into shape, to make a

man of him… and besides… no doubt, you understand me at a word.

Suddenly I noticed for three days in succession he was downcast and

dejected, not because of my coldness, but for something else,

something more important. I wondered what the tragedy was.