Crime and Punishment & Other Great Novels of Dostoevsky. Fyodor DostoevskyЧитать онлайн книгу.
happened here?”
“But I’m convinced that she does love a man like you, and not a man like him.”
“She loves her own virtue, not me.” The words broke involuntarily, and almost malignantly, from Dmitri. He laughed, but a minute later his eyes gleamed, he flushed crimson and struck the table violently with his fist.
“I swear, Alyosha,” he cried, with intense and genuine anger at himself; “You may not believe me, but as God is Holy, and as Christ is God, I swear that though I smiled at her lofty sentiments just now, I know that I am a million times baser in soul than she, and that these lofty sentiments of hers are as sincere as a heavenly angel’s. That’s the tragedy of it — that I know that for certain. What if anyone does show off a bit? Don’t I do it myself? And yet I’m sincere, I’m sincere. As for Ivan, I can understand how he must be cursing nature now with his intellect, too! To see the preference given — to whom, to what? To a monster who, though he is betrothed and all eyes are fixed on him, can’t restrain his debaucheries — and before the very eyes of his betrothed! And a man like me is preferred, while he is rejected. And why? Because a girl wants to sacrifice her life and destiny out of gratitude. It’s ridiculous! I’ve never said a word of this to Ivan, and Ivan of course has never dropped a hint of the sort to me. But destiny will be accomplished, and the best man will hold his ground while the undeserving one will vanish into his back-alley for ever — his filthy back-alley, his beloved back-alley, where he is at home and where he will sink in filth and stench at his own free will and with enjoyment. I’ve been talking foolishly. I’ve no words left. I used them at random, but it will be as I have said. I shall drown in the back-alley, and she will marry Ivan.”
“Stop, Dmitri,” Alyosha interrupted again with great anxiety. “There’s one thing you haven’t made clear yet: you are still betrothed all the same, aren’t you? How can you break off the engagement if she, your betrothed, doesn’t want to?”
“Yes, formally and solemnly betrothed. It was all done on my arrival in Moscow, with great ceremony, with ikons, all in fine style. The general’s wife blessed us, and — would you believe it?— congratulated Katya. You’ve made a good choice,’ she said, ‘I see right through him.’ And — would you believe it? — she didn’t like Ivan, and hardly greeted him. I had a lot of talk with Katya in Moscow. I told her about myself — sincerely, honourably. She listened to everything.
There was sweet confusion,
There were tender words.
Though there were proud words, too. She wrung out of me a mighty promise to reform. I gave my promise, and here — ”
“What?”
“Why, I called to you and brought you out here to-day, this very day — remember it — to send you — this very day again — to Katerina Ivanovna, and — ”
“To tell her that I shall never come to see her again. Say, ‘He sends you his compliments.’”
“But is that possible?”
“That’s just the reason I’m sending you, in my place, because it’s impossible. And, how could I tell her myself?”
“And where are you going?”
“To the back-alley.”
“To Grushenka, then!” Alyosha exclaimed mournfully, clasping his hands. “Can Rakitin really have told the truth? I thought that you had just visited her, and that was all.”
“Can a betrothed man pay such visits? Is such a thing possible and with such a betrothed, and before the eyes of all the world? Confound it, I have some honour! As soon as I began visiting Grushenka, I ceased to be betrothed, and to be an honest man. I understand that. Why do you look at me? You see, I went in the first place to beat her. I had heard, and I know for a fact now, that that captain, father’s agent, had given Grushenka an I.O.U. of mine for her to sue me for payment, so as to put an end to me. They wanted to scare me. I went to beat her. I had had a glimpse of her before. She doesn’t strike one at first sight. I knew about her old merchant, who’s lying ill now, paralysed; but he’s leaving her a decent little sum. I knew, too, that she was fond of money, that she hoarded it, and lent it at a wicked rate of interest, that she’s a merciless cheat and swindler. I went to beat her, and I stayed. The storm broke — it struck me down like the plague. I’m plague-stricken still, and I know that everything is over, that there will never be anything more for me. The cycle of the ages is accomplished. That’s my position. And though I’m a beggar, as fate would have it, I had three thousand just then in my pocket. I drove with Grushenka to Mokroe, a place twenty-five versts from here. I got Gypsies there and champagne and made all the peasants there drunk on it, and all the women and girls. I sent the thousands flying. In three days’ time I was stripped bare, but a hero. Do you suppose the hero had gained his end? Not a sign of it from her. I tell you that rogue, Grushenka, has a supple curve all over her body. You can see it in her little foot, even in her little toe. I saw it, and kissed it, but that was all, I swear! ‘I’ll marry you if you like,’ she said, ‘you’re a beggar, you know. Say that you won’t beat me, and will let me do anything I choose, and perhaps I will marry you.’ She laughed, and she’s laughing still!”
Dmitri leapt up with a sort of fury. He seemed all at once as though he were drunk. His eyes became suddenly bloodshot.
“And do you really mean to marry her?”
“At once, if she will. And if she won’t, I shall stay all the same. I’ll be the porter at her gate. Alyosha!” he cried. He stopped short before him, and taking him by the shoulders began shaking him violently. “Do you know, you innocent boy, that this is all delirium, senseless delirium, for there’s a tragedy here. Let me tell you, Alexey, that I may be a low man, with low and degraded passions, but a thief and a pickpocket Dmitri Karamazov never can be. Well, then; let me tell you that I am a thief and a pickpocket. That very morning, just before I went to beat Grushenka, Katerina Ivanovna sent for me, and in strict secrecy (why I don’t know, I suppose she had some reason) asked me to go to the chief town of the province and to post three thousand roubles to Agafya Ivanovna in Moscow, so that nothing should be known of it in the town here. So I had that three thousand roubles in my pocket when I went to see Grushenka, and it was that money we spent at Mokroe. Afterwards I pretended I had been to the town, but did not show her the post office receipt. I said I had sent the money and would bring the receipt, and so far I haven’t brought it. I’ve forgotten it. Now what do you think you’re going to her to-day to say? ‘He sends his compliments,’ and she’ll ask you, ‘What about the money?’ You might still have said to her, ‘He’s a degraded sensualist, and a low creature, with uncontrolled passions. He didn’t send your money then, but wasted it, because, like a low brute, he couldn’t control himself.’ But still you might have added, ‘He isn’t a thief though. Here is your three thousand; he sends it back. Send it yourself to Agafya Ivanovna. But he told me to say “he sends his compliments.” But, as it is, she will ask, ‘But where is the money?’”
“Mitya, you are unhappy, yes! But not as unhappy as you think. Don’t worry yourself to death with despair.”
“What, do you suppose I’d shoot myself because I can’t get three thousand to pay back? That’s just it. I shan’t shoot myself. I haven’t the strength now. Afterwards, perhaps. But now I’m going to Grushenka. I don’t care what happens.”
“And what then?”
“I’ll be her husband if she deigns to have me, and when lovers come, I’ll go into the next room. I’ll clean her friends’ goloshes, blow up their samovar, run their errands.”
“Katerina Ivanovna will understand it all,” Alyosha said solemnly. “She’ll understand how great this trouble is and will forgive. She has a lofty mind, and no one could be more unhappy than you. She’ll see that for herself.”
“She won’t forgive everything,” said Dmitri, with a grin. “There’s something in it, brother, that no woman could forgive. Do you know what would be the best thing to do?”
“What?”