"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? Imust 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, Iwouldn'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.
Chapter 2
Smerdyakov with a GuitarHE 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 three o'clock.Alyosha's whole soul turned to the monastery, to his dying saint, but the necessity of seeing Dmitri outweighed everything.The conviction that a great inevitable catastrophe was about to happen grew stronger in Alyosha's mind with every hour.What that catastrophe was, and what he would say at that moment to his brother, he could perhaps not have said definitely."Even if my benefactor must die without me, anyway I won't have to reproach myself all my life with the thought that Imight have saved something and did not, but passed by and hastened home.If I do as I intend, I shall be following his great precept."His plan was to catch his brother Dmitri unawares, to climb over the fence, as he had the day before, get into the garden and sit in the summer-house.If Dmitri were not there, thought Alyosha, he would not announce himself to Foma or the women of the house, but would remain hidden in the summer-house, even if he had to wait there till evening.If, as before, Dmitri were lying in wait for Grushenka to come, he would be very likely to come to the summer-house.Alyosha did not, however, give much thought to the details of his plan, but resolved to act upon it, even if it meant not getting back to the monastery that day.
Everything happened without hindrance, he climbed over the hurdle almost in the same spot as the day before, and stole into the summer-house unseen.He did not want to be noticed.The woman of the house and Foma too, if he were here, might be loyal to his brother and obey his instructions, and so refuse to let Alyosha come into the garden, or might warn Dmitri that he was being sought and inquired for.
There was no one in the summer-house.Alyosha sat down and began to wait.He looked round the summer-house, which somehow struck him as a great deal more ancient than before.Though the day was just as fine as yesterday, it seemed a wretched little place this time.There was a circle on the table, left no doubt from the glass of brandy having been spilt the day before.Foolish and irrelevant ideas strayed about his mind, as they always do in a time of tedious waiting.He wondered, for instance, why he had sat down precisely in the same place as before, why not in the other seat.At last he felt very depressed- depressed by suspense and uncertainty.But he had not sat there more than a quarter of an hour, when he suddenly heard the thrum of a guitar somewhere quite close.People were sitting, or had only just sat down, somewhere in the bushes not more than twenty paces away.Alyosha suddenly recollected that on coming out of the summer-house the day before, he had caught a glimpse of an old green low garden-seat among the bushes on the left, by the fence.The people must be sitting on it now.Who were they?
A man's voice suddenly began singing in a sugary falsetto, accompanying himself on the guitar:
With invincible force I am bound to my dear.
O Lord, have mercy On her and on me!
On her and on me!
On her and on me!
The voice ceased.It was a lackey's tenor and a lackey's song.
Another voice, a woman's, suddenly asked insinuatingly and bashfully, though with mincing affectation:
"Why haven't you been to see us for so long, Pavel Fyodorovitch?
Why do you always look down upon us?"
