The Brothers Karamazov, Fyodor Dostoyevsky [children's books read aloud TXT] 📗
- Author: Fyodor Dostoyevsky
- Performer: 0140449248
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me rather why you who are so clever, so intellectual, so observant,
choose a little idiot, an invalid like me? Ah, Alyosha, I am awfully
happy, for I don’t deserve you a bit.”
“You do, Lise. I shall be leaving the monastery altogether in a
few days. If I go into the world, I must marry. I know that. He told
me to marry, too. Whom could I marry better than you-and who would
have me except you? I have been thinking it over. In the first
place, you’ve known me from a child and you’ve a great many
qualities I haven’t. You are more lighthearted than I am; above
all, you are more innocent than I am. I have been brought into contact
with many, many things already…. Ah, you don’t know, but I, too,
am a Karamazov. What does it matter if you do laugh and make jokes,
and at me, too? Go on laughing. I am so glad you do. You laugh like
a little child, but you think like a martyr.”
“Like a martyr? How?”
“Yes, Lise, your question just now: whether we weren’t showing
contempt for that poor man by dissecting his soul-that was the
question of a sufferer…. You see, I don’t know how to express it,
but anyone who thinks of such questions is capable of suffering.
Sitting in your invalid chair you must have thought over many things
already.”
“Alyosha, give me your hand. Why are you taking it away?” murmured
Lise in a failing voice, weak with happiness. “Listen, Alyosha. What
will you wear when you come out of the monastery? What sort of suit?
Don’t laugh, don’t be angry, it’s very, very important to me.”
“I haven’t thought about the suit, Lise; But I’ll wear whatever
you like.”
“I should like you to have a dark blue velvet coat, a white
pique waistcoat, and a soft grey felt hat…. Tell me, did you believe
that I didn’t care for you when I said I didn’t mean what I wrote?”
“No, I didn’t believe it.”
“Oh, you insupportable person, you are incorrigible.”
“You see, I knew that you seemed to care for me, but I pretended
to believe that you didn’t care for me to make it easier for you.”
“That makes it worse! Worse and better than all! Alyosha, I am
awfully fond of you. Just before you came this morning, I tried my
fortune. I decided I would ask you for my letter, and if you brought
it out calmly and gave it to me (as might have been expected from you)
it would mean that you did not love me at all, that you felt
nothing, and were simply a stupid boy, good for nothing, and that I am
ruined. But you left the letter at home and that cheered me. You
left it behind on purpose, so as not to give it back, because you knew
I would ask for it? That was it, wasn’t it?”
“Ah, Lise, it was not so a bit. The letter is with me now, and
it was this morning, in this pocket. Here it is.”
Alyosha pulled the letter out laughing, and showed it her at a
distance.
“But I am not going to give it to you. Look at it from here.”
“Why, then you told a lie? You, a monk, told a lie!”
“I told a lie if you like,” Alyosha laughed, too. “I told a lie so
as not to give you back the letter. It’s very precious to me,” he
added suddenly, with strong feeling, and again he flushed. “It
always will be, and I won’t give it up to anyone!”
Lise looked at him joyfully. “Alyosha,” she murmured again,
“look at the door. Isn’t mamma listening?”
“Very well, Lise, I’ll look; but wouldn’t it be better not to
look? Why suspect your mother of such meanness?”
“What meanness? As for her spying on her daughter, it’s her right,
it’s not meanness!” cried Lise, firing up. “You may be sure, Alexey
Fyodorovitch, that when I am a mother, if I have a daughter like
myself I shall certainly spy on her!”
“Really, Lise? That’s not right.”
“Oh, my goodness! What has meanness to do with it? If she were
listening to some ordinary worldly conversation, it would be meanness,
but when her own daughter is shut up with a young man… Listen,
Alyosha, do you know I shall spy upon you as soon as we are married,
and let me tell you I shall open all your letters and read them, so
you may as well be prepared.”
“Yes, of course, if so- ” muttered Alyosha, “only it’s not right.”
“Ah, how contemptuous! Alyosha, dear, we won’t quarrel the very
first day. I’d better tell you the whole truth. Of course, it’s very
wrong to spy on people, and, of course, I am not right and you are,
only I shall spy on you all the same.”
“Do, then; you won’t find out anything,” laughed Alyosha.
“And Alyosha, will you give in to me? We must decide that too.”
“I shall be delighted to, Lise, and certain to, only not in the
most important things. Even if you don’t agree with me, I shall do
my duty in the most important things.”
“That’s right; but let me tell you I am ready to give in to you
not only in the most important matters, but in everything. And I am
ready to vow to do so now-in everything, and for all my life!”
cried Lise fervently, “and I’ll do it gladly, gladly! What’s more,
I’ll swear never to spy on you, never once, never to read one of
your letters. For you are right and I am not. And though I shall be
awfully tempted to spy, I know that I won’t do it since you consider
it dishonourable. You are my conscience now…. Listen, Alexey
Fyodorovitch, why have you been so sad lately-both yesterday and
to-day? I know you have a lot of anxiety and trouble, but I see you
have some special grief besides, some secret one, perhaps?”
“Yes, Lise, I have a secret one, too,” answered Alyosha
mournfully. “I see you love me, since you guessed that.”
“What grief? What about? Can you tell me?” asked Lise with timid
entreaty.
“I’ll tell you later, Lise-afterwards,” said Alyosha, confused.
“Now you wouldn’t understand it perhaps-and perhaps I couldn’t
explain it.”
“I know your brothers and your father are worrying you, too.”
“Yes, my brothers too,” murmured Alyosha, pondering.
“I don’t like your brother Ivan, Alyosha,” said Lise suddenly.
He noticed this remark with some surprise, but did not answer it.
“My brothers are destroying themselves,” he went on, “my father,
too. And they are destroying others with them. It’s ‘the primitive
force of the Karamazovs,’ as father Paissy said the other day, a
crude, unbridled, earthly force. Does the spirit of God move above
that force? Even that I don’t know. I only know that I, too, am a
Karamazov…. Me a monk, a monk! Am I a monk, Lise? You said just
now that I was.”
“Yes, I did.”
“And perhaps I don’t even believe in God.”
“You don’t believe? What is the matter?” said Lise quietly and
gently. But Alyosha did not answer. There was something too
mysterious, too subjective in these last words of his, perhaps obscure
to himself, but yet torturing him.
“And now on the top of it all, my friend, the best man in the
world is going, is leaving the earth! If you knew, Lise, how bound
up in soul I am with him! And then I shall be left alone…. I shall
come to you, Lise…. For the future we will be together.”
“Yes, together, together! Henceforward we shall be always
together, all our lives! Listen, kiss me, I allow you.”
Alyosha kissed her.
“Come, now go. Christ be with you!” and she made the sign of the
cross over him. “Make haste back to him while he is alive. I see
I’ve kept you cruelly. I’ll pray to-day for him and you. Alyosha, we
shall be happy! Shall we be happy, shall we?”
“I believe we shall, Lise.”
Alyosha thought it better not to go in to Madame Hohlakov and
was going out of the house without saying good-bye to her. But no
sooner had he opened the door than he found Madame Hohlakov standing
before him. From the first word Alyosha guessed that she had been
waiting on purpose to meet him.
“Alexey Fyodorovitch, this is awful. This is all childish nonsense
and ridiculous. I trust you won’t dream-It’s foolishness, nothing but
foolishness!” she said, attacking him at once.
“Only don’t tell her that,” said Alyosha, “or she will be upset,
and that’s bad for her now.”
“Sensible advice from a sensible young man. Am I to understand
that you only agreed with her from compassion for her invalid state,
because you didn’t want to irritate her by contradiction?”
“Oh no, not at all. I was quite serious in what I said,” Alyosha
declared stoutly.
“To be serious about it is impossible, unthinkable, and in the
first place I shall never be at home to you again, and I shall take
her away, you may be sure of that.”
“But why?” asked Alyosha. “It’s all so far off. We may have to
wait another year and a half.”
“Ah, Alexey Fyodorovitch, that’s true, of course, and you’ll
have time to quarrel and separate a thousand times in a year and a
half. But I am so unhappy! Though it’s such nonsense, it’s a great
blow to me. I feel like Famusov in the last scene of Sorrow from
Wit. You are Tchatsky and she is Sofya, and, only fancy, I’ve run down
to meet you on the stairs, and in the play the fatal scene takes place
on the staircase. I heard it all; I almost dropped. So this is the
explanation of her dreadful night and her hysterics of late! It
means love to the daughter but death to the mother. I might as well be
in my grave at once. And a more serious matter still, what is this
letter she has written? Show it me at once, at once!”
“No, there’s no need. Tell me, how is Katerina Ivanovna now? I
must know.”
“She still lies in delirium; she has not regained consciousness.
Her aunts are here; but they do nothing but sigh and give themselves
airs. Herzenstube came, and he was so alarmed that I didn’t know
what to do for him. I nearly sent for a doctor to look after him. He
was driven home in my carriage. And on the top of it all, you and this
letter! It’s true nothing can happen for a year and a half. In the
name of all that’s holy, in the name of your dying elder, show me that
letter, Alexey Fyodorovitch. I’m her mother. Hold it in your hand,
if you like, and I will read it so.”
“No, I won’t show it to you. Even if she sanctioned it, I
wouldn’t. I am coming to-morrow, and if you like, we can talk over
many things, but now good-bye!”
And Alyosha ran downstairs and into the street.
Smerdyakov with a Guitar
HE had no time to lose indeed. Even while he was saying good-bye
to Lise, the thought had struck him that he must attempt some
stratagem to find his brother Dmitri, who was evidently keeping out of
his way. It was getting late, nearly
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