"Alyosha, I tell you, it's awfully important," Lise went on, with really excessive amazement."It's not the dream that's important, but your having the same dream as me.You never lie to me, don't lie now; is it true? You are not laughing?""It's true."
Lise seemed extraordinarily impressed and for half a minute she was silent.
"Alyosha, come and see me, come and see me more often," she said suddenly, in a supplicating voice.
"I'll always come to see you, all my life," answered Alyosha firmly.
"You are the only person I can talk to, you know," Lise began again."I talk to no one but myself and you.Only you in the whole world.And to you more readily than to myself.And I am not a bit ashamed with you, not a bit.Alyosha, why am I not ashamed with you, not a bit? Alyosha, is it true that at Easter the Jews steal a child and kill it?""I don't know."
"There's a book here in which I read about the trial of a Jew, who took a child of four years old and cut off the fingers from both hands, and then crucified him on the wall, hammered nails into him and crucified him, and afterwards, when he was tried, he said that the child died soon, within four hours.That was 'soon'! He said the child moaned, kept on moaning and he stood admiring it.That's nice!""Nice?"
"Nice; I sometimes imagine that it was I who crucified him.He would hang there moaning and I would sit opposite him eating pineapple compote.I am awfully fond of pineapple compote.Do you like it?"Alyosha looked at her in silence.Her pale, sallow face was suddenly contorted, her eyes burned.
"You know, when I read about that Jew I shook with sobs all night.
I kept fancying how the little thing cried and moaned (a child of four years old understands, you know), and all the while the thought of pineapple compote haunted me.In the morning I wrote a letter to a certain person, begging him particularly to come and see me.He came and I suddenly told him all about the child and the pineapple compote.
All about it, all, and said that it was nice.He laughed and said it really was nice.Then he got up and went away.He was only here five minutes.Did he despise me? Did he despise me? Tell me, tell me, Alyosha, did he despise me or not?" She sat up on the couch, with flashing eyes.
"Tell me," Alyosha asked anxiously, "did you send for that person?""Yes, I did."
"Did you send him a letter?"
"Yes."
"Simply to ask about that, about that child?""No, not about that at all.But when he came, I asked him about that at once.He answered, laughed, got up and went away.""That person behaved honourably," Alyosha murmured.
"And did he despise me? Did he laugh at me?""No, for perhaps he believes in the pineapple compote himself.
He is very ill now, too, Lise."
"Yes, he does believe in it," said Lise, with flashing eyes.
"He doesn't despise anyone," Alyosha went on."Only he does not believe anyone.If he doesn't believe in people, of course, he does despise them.""Then he despises me, me?"
"You, too."
"Good." Lise seemed to grind her teeth."When he went out laughing, I felt that it was nice to be despised.The child with fingers cut off is nice, and to be despised is nice..."And she laughed in Alyosha's face, a feverish malicious laugh.
"Do you know, Alyosha, do you know, I should like- Alyosha, save me!" She suddenly jumped from the couch, rushed to him and seized him with both hands."Save me!" she almost groaned."Is there anyone in the world I could tell what I've told you? I've told you the truth, the truth.I shall kill myself, because I loathe everything! I don't want to live, because I loathe everything! I loathe everything, everything.Alyosha, why don't you love me in the least?" she finished in a frenzy.
"But I do love you!" answered Alyosha warmly.
"And will you weep over me, will you?"
"Yes."
"Not because I won't be your wife, but simply weep for me?""Yes."
"Thank you! It's only your tears I want.Everyone else may punish me and trample me under foot, everyone, everyone, not excepting anyone.For I don't love anyone.Do you hear, not anyone! On the contrary, I hate him! Go, Alyosha; it's time you went to your brother"; she tore herself away from him suddenly.
"How can I leave you like this?" said Alyosha, almost in alarm.
"Go to your brother, the prison will be shut; go, here's your hat.
Give my love to Mitya, go, go!"
And she almost forcibly pushed Alyosha out of the door.He looked at her with pained surprise, when he was suddenly aware of a letter in his right hand, a tiny letter folded up tight and sealed.He glanced at it and instantly read the address, "To Ivan Fyodorovitch Karamazov." He looked quickly at Lise.Her face had become almost menacing.
"Give it to him, you must give it to him!" she ordered him, trembling and beside herself."To-day, at once, or I'll poison myself!
That's why I sent for you."
And she slammed the door quickly.The bolt clicked.Alyosha put the note in his pocket and went straight downstairs, without going back to Madame Hohlakov; forgetting her, in fact.As soon as Alyosha had gone, Lise unbolted the door, opened it a little, put her finger in the crack and slammed the door with all her might, pinching her finger.Ten seconds after, releasing her finger, she walked softly, slowly to her chair, sat up straight in it and looked intently at her blackened finger and at the blood that oozed from under the nail.Her lips were quivering and she kept whispering rapidly to herself:
"I am a wretch, wretch, wretch, wretch!"
Chapter 4
