But Fyodor Pavlovitch, who was among them, sprang forward and declared that it was by no means impossible, and that, indeed, there was a certain piquancy about it, and so on....It is true that at that time he was overdoing his part as a buffoon.He liked to put himself forward and entertain the company, ostensibly on equal terms, of course, though in reality he was on a servile footing with them.It was just at the time when he had received the news of his first wife's death in Petersburg, and, with crape upon his hat, was drinking and behaving so shamelessly that even the most reckless among us were shocked at the sight of him.The revellers, of course, laughed at this unexpected opinion; and one of them even began challenging him to act upon it.The others repelled the idea even more emphatically, although still with the utmost hilarity, and at last they went on their way.Later on, Fyodor Pavlovitch swore that he had gone with them, and perhaps it was so, no one knows for certain, and no one ever knew.But five or six months later, all the town was talking, with intense and sincere indignation, of Lizaveta's condition, and trying to find out who was the miscreant who had wronged her.Then suddenly a terrible rumour was all over the town that this miscreant was no other than Fyodor Pavlovitch.Who set the rumour going? Of that drunken band five had left the town and the only one still among us was an elderly and much respected civil councillor, the father of grown-up daughters, who could hardly have spread the tale, even if there had been any foundation for it.But rumour pointed straight at Fyodor Pavlovitch, and persisted in pointing at him.Of course this was no great grievance to him: he would not have troubled to contradict a set of tradespeople.In those days he was proud, and did not condescend to talk except in his own circle of the officials and nobles, whom he entertained so well.
At the time, Grigory stood up for his master vigorously.He provoked quarrels and altercations in defence of him and succeeded in bringing some people round to his side."It's the wench's own fault," he asserted, and the culprit was Karp, a dangerous convict, who had escaped from prison and whose name was well known to us, as he had hidden in our town.This conjecture sounded plausible, for it was remembered that Karp had been in the neighbourhood just at that time in the autumn, and had robbed three people.But this affair and all the talk about it did not estrange popular sympathy from the poor idiot.She was better looked after than ever.A well-to-do merchants's widow named Kondratyev arranged to take her into her house at the end of April, meaning not to let her go out until after the confinement.They kept a constant watch over her, but in spite of their vigilance she escaped on the very last day, and made her way into Fyodor Pavlovitch's garden.How, in her condition, she managed to climb over the high, strong fence remained a mystery.Some maintained that she must have been lifted over by somebody; others hinted at something more uncanny.The most likely explanation is that it happened naturally- that Lizaveta, accustomed to clambering over hurdles to sleep in gardens, had somehow managed to climb this fence, in spite of her condition, and had leapt down, injuring herself.
Grigory rushed to Marfa and sent her to Lizaveta, while he ran to fetch an old midwife who lived close by.They saved the baby, but Lizaveta died at dawn.Grigory took the baby, brought it home, and making his wife sit down, put it on her lap."A child of God- an orphan is akin to all," he said, "and to us above others.Our little lost one has sent us this, who has come from the devil's son and a holy innocent.Nurse him and weep no more."So Marfa brought up the child.He was christened Pavel, to which people were not slow in adding Fyodorovitch (son of Fyodor).Fyodor Pavlovitch did not object to any of this, and thought it amusing, though he persisted vigorously in denying his responsibility.The townspeople were pleased at his adopting the foundling.Later on, Fyodor Pavlovitch invented a surname for the child, calling him Smerdyakov, after his mother's nickname.
So this Smerdyakov became Fyodor Pavlovitch's second servant, and was living in the lodge with Grigory and Marfa at the time our story begins.He was employed as cook.I ought to say something of this Smerdyakov, but I am ashamed of keeping my readers' attention so long occupied with these common menials, and I will go back to my story, hoping to say more of Smerdyakov in the course of it.
Chapter 3
The Confession of a Passionate Heart- in VerseALYOSHA remained for some time irresolute after hearing the command his father shouted to him from the carriage.But in spite of his uneasiness he did not stand still.That was not his way.He went at once to the kitchen to find out what his father had been doing above.Then he set off, trusting that on the way he would find some answer to the doubt tormenting him.I hasten to add that his father's shouts, commanding him to return home "with his mattress and pillow" did not frighten him in the least.He understood perfectly that those peremptory shouts were merely "a flourish" to produce an effect.In the same way a tradesman in our town who was celebrating his name-day with a party of friends, getting angry at being refused more vodka, smashed up his own crockery and furniture and tore his own and his wife's clothes, and finally broke his windows, all for the sake of effect.Next day, of course, when he was sober, he regretted the broken cups and saucers.Alyosha knew that his father would let him go back to the monastery next day, possibly even that evening.
Moreover, he was fully persuaded that his father might hurt anyone else, but would not hurt him.Alyosha was certain that no one in the whole world ever would want to hurt him, and, what is more, he knew that no one could hurt him.This was for him an axiom, assumed once for all without question, and he went his way without hesitation, relying on it.
