THE BROTHERS KARAMAZOV. Федор Достоевский
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and you have the key.”
Dmitri suddenly reappeared in the drawing-room. He had, of course, found the other entrance locked, and the key actually was in Fyodor Pavlovitch’s pocket. The windows of all rooms were also closed, so Grushenka could not have come in anywhere nor have run out anywhere.
“Hold him!” shrieked Fyodor Pavlovitch, as soon as he saw him again. “He’s been stealing money in my bedroom.” And tearing himself from Ivan he rushed again at Dmitri. But Dmitri threw up both hands and suddenly clutched the old man by the two tufts of hair that remained on his temples, tugged at them, and flung him with a crash on the floor. He kicked him two or three times with his heel in the face. The old man moaned shrilly. Ivan, though not so strong as Dmitri, threw his arms round him, and with all his might pulled him away. Alyosha helped him with his slender strength, holding Dmitri in front.
“Madman! You’ve killed him!” cried Ivan.
“Serve him right!” shouted Dmitri breathlessly. “If I haven’t killed him, I’ll come again and kill him. You can’t protect him!”
“Dmitri! Go away at once!” cried Alyosha commandingly.
“Alexey! You tell me. It’s only you I can believe; was she here just now, or not? I saw her myself creeping this way by the fence from the lane. I shouted, she ran away.”
“I swear she’s not been here, and no one expected her.”
“But I saw her. . . . So she must . . . I’ll find out at once where she is. . . . Good-bye, Alexey! Not a word to Aesop about the money now. But go to Katerina Ivanovna at once and be sure to say, ‘He sends his compliments to you!’ Compliments, his compliments! just compliments and farewell! Describe the scene to her.”
Meanwhile Ivan and Grigory had raised the old man and seated him in an arm-chair. His face was covered with blood, but he was conscious and listened greedily to Dmitri’s cries. He was still fancying that Grushenka really was somewhere in the house. Dmitri looked at him with hatred as he went out.
“I don’t repent shedding your blood!” he cried. “Beware, old man, beware of your dream, for I have my dream, too. I curse you, and disown you altogether.”
He ran out of the room.
“She’s here. She must be here. Smerdyakov! Smerdyakov!” the old man wheezed, scarcely audibly, beckoning to him with his finger.
“No, she’s not here, you old lunatic!” Ivan shouted at him angrily. “Here, he’s fainting? Water! A towel! Make haste, Smerdyakov!”
Smerdyakov ran for water. At last they got the old man undressed, and put him to bed. They wrapped a wet towel round his head. Exhausted by the brandy, by his violent emotion, and the blows he had received, he shut his eyes and fell asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow. Ivan and Alyosha went back to the drawing-room. Smerdyakov removed the fragments of the broken vase, while Grigory stood by the table looking gloomily at the floor.
“Shouldn’t you put a wet bandage on your head and go to bed, too?” Alyosha said to him. “We’ll look after him. My brother gave you a terrible blow — on the head.”
“He’s insulted me!” Grigory articulated gloomily and distinctly.
“He’s ‘insulted’ his father, not only you,” observed Ivan with a forced smile.
“I used to wash him in his tub. He’s insulted me,” repeated Grigory.
“Damn it all, if I hadn’t pulled him away perhaps he’d have murdered him. It wouldn’t take much to do for Aesop, would it?” whispered Ivan to Alyosha.
“God forbid!” cried Alyosha.
“Why should He forbid?” Ivan went on in the same whisper, with a malignant grimace. “One reptile will devour the other. And serve them both right, too.”
Alyosha shuddered.
“Of course I won’t let him be murdered as I didn’t just now. Stay here, Alyosha, I’ll go for a turn in the yard. My head’s begun to ache.”
Alyosha went to his father’s bedroom and sat by his bedside behind the screen for about an hour. The old man suddenly opened his eyes and gazed for a long while at Alyosha, evidently remembering and meditating. All at once his face betrayed extraordinary excitement.
“Alyosha,” he whispered apprehensively, “where’s Ivan?”
“In the yard. He’s got a headache. He’s on the watch.”
“Give me that looking-glass. It stands over there. Give it me.”
Alyosha gave him a little round folding looking-glass which stood on the chest of drawers. The old man looked at himself in it; his nose was considerably swollen, and on the left side of his forehead there was a rather large crimson bruise.
“What does Ivan say? Alyosha, my dear, my only son, I’m afraid of Ivan. I’m more afraid of Ivan than the other. You’re the only one I’m not afraid of. . . . ”
“Don’t be afraid of Ivan either. He is angry, but he’ll defend you.”
“Alyosha, and what of the other? He’s run to Grushenka. My angel, tell me the truth, was she here just now or not?”
“No one has seen her. It was a mistake. She has not been here.”
“You know Mitya wants to marry her, to marry her.”
“She won’t marry him.”
“She won’t. She won’t. She won’t. She won’t on any account!”
The old man fairly fluttered with joy, as though nothing more comforting could have been said to him. In his delight he seized Alyosha’s hand and pressed it warmly to his heart. Tears positively glittered in his eyes.
“That image of the Mother of God of which I was telling you just now,” he said. “Take it home and keep it for yourself. And I’ll let you go back to the monastery. . . . I was joking this morning, don’t be angry with me. My head aches, Alyosha. . . . Alyosha, comfort my heart. Be an angel and tell me the truth!”
“You’re still asking whether she has been here or not?” Alyosha said sorrowfully.
“No, no, no. I believe you. I’ll tell you what it is: you go to Grushenka yourself, or see her somehow; make haste and ask her; see for yourself, which she means to choose, him or me. Eh? What? Can you?”
“If I see her I’ll ask her,” Alyosha muttered, embarrassed.
“No, she won’t tell you,” the old man interrupted, “she’s a rogue. She’ll begin kissing you and say that it’s you she wants. She’s a deceitful, shameless hussy. You mustn’t go to her, you mustn’t!”
“No father, and it wouldn’t be suitable, it wouldn’t be right at all.”
“Where was he sending you just now? He shouted ‘Go’ as he ran away.”
“For money? To ask her for money?”
“No. Not for money.”
“He’s no money; not a farthing. I’ll settle down for the night, and think things over, and you can go. Perhaps you’ll meet her. . . . Only be sure to come to me to-morrow in the morning. Be sure to. I have a word to say to you to-morrow. Will you come?”
“When you come, pretend you’ve come of your own accord to ask after me. Don’t tell anyone I told you to. Don’t say a word to Ivan.”
“Very well.”
“Good-bye, my angel. You stood up for me, just now. I shall never forget it. I’ve a word to say to you to-morrow — but I must think about it.”
“And how do you feel now?”
“I shall get up to-morrow and go out, perfectly well, perfectly well!”
Crossing