第 十 章 · Both Together

. Both Together

Alyosha left his father’s house feeling even more exhausted and

dejected in spirit than when he had entered it. His mind too seemed

shattered and unhinged, while he felt that he was afraid to put

together the disjointed fragments and form a general idea from all the

agonizing and conflicting experiences of the day. He felt something

bordering upon despair, which he had never known till then. Towering

like a mountain above all the rest stood the fatal, insoluble question:

How would things end between his father and his brother Dmitri with

this terrible woman? Now he had himself been a witness of it, he had

been present and seen them face to face. Yet only his brother Dmitri

could be made unhappy, terribly, completely unhappy: there was trouble

awaiting him. It appeared too that there were other people concerned,

far more so than Alyosha could have supposed before. There was

something positively mysterious in it, too. Ivan had made a step

towards him, which was what Alyosha had been long desiring. Yet now he

felt for some reason that he was frightened at it. And these women?

Strange to say, that morning he had set out for Katerina Ivanovna’s in

the greatest embarrassment; now he felt nothing of the kind. On the

contrary, he was hastening there as though expecting to find guidance

from her. Yet to give her this message was obviously more difficult

than before. The matter of the three thousand was decided irrevocably,

and Dmitri, feeling himself dishonored and losing his last hope, might

sink to any depth. He had, moreover, told him to describe to Katerina

Ivanovna the scene which had just taken place with his father.

It was by now seven o’clock, and it was getting dark as Alyosha entered

the very spacious and convenient house in the High Street occupied by

Katerina Ivanovna. Alyosha knew that she lived with two aunts. One of

them, a woman of little education, was that aunt of her half-sister

Agafya Ivanovna who had looked after her in her father’s house when she

came from boarding-school. The other aunt was a Moscow lady of style

and consequence, though in straitened circumstances. It was said that

they both gave way in everything to Katerina Ivanovna, and that she

only kept them with her as chaperons. Katerina Ivanovna herself gave

way to no one but her benefactress, the general’s widow, who had been

kept by illness in Moscow, and to whom she was obliged to write twice a

week a full account of all her doings.

When Alyosha entered the hall and asked the maid who opened the door to

him to take his name up, it was evident that they were already aware of

his arrival. Possibly he had been noticed from the window. At least,

Alyosha heard a noise, caught the sound of flying footsteps and

rustling skirts. Two or three women, perhaps, had run out of the room.

Alyosha thought it strange that his arrival should cause such

excitement. He was conducted however to the drawing-room at once. It

was a large room, elegantly and amply furnished, not at all in

provincial style. There were many sofas, lounges, settees, big and

little tables. There were pictures on the walls, vases and lamps on the

tables, masses of flowers, and even an aquarium in the window. It was

twilight and rather dark. Alyosha made out a silk mantle thrown down on

the sofa, where people had evidently just been sitting; and on a table

in front of the sofa were two unfinished cups of chocolate, cakes, a

glass saucer with blue raisins, and another with sweetmeats. Alyosha

saw that he had interrupted visitors, and frowned. But at that instant

the portière was raised, and with rapid, hurrying footsteps Katerina

Ivanovna came in, holding out both hands to Alyosha with a radiant

smile of delight. At the same instant a servant brought in two lighted

candles and set them on the table.

“Thank God! At last you have come too! I’ve been simply praying for you

all day! Sit down.”

Alyosha had been struck by Katerina Ivanovna’s beauty when, three weeks

before, Dmitri had first brought him, at Katerina Ivanovna’s special

request, to be introduced to her. There had been no conversation

between them at that interview, however. Supposing Alyosha to be very

shy, Katerina Ivanovna had talked all the time to Dmitri to spare him.

Alyosha had been silent, but he had seen a great deal very clearly. He

was struck by the imperiousness, proud ease, and self-confidence of the

haughty girl. And all that was certain, Alyosha felt that he was not

exaggerating it. He thought her great glowing black eyes were very

fine, especially with her pale, even rather sallow, longish face. But

in those eyes and in the lines of her exquisite lips there was

something with which his brother might well be passionately in love,

but which perhaps could not be loved for long. He expressed this

thought almost plainly to Dmitri when, after the visit, his brother

besought and insisted that he should not conceal his impressions on

seeing his betrothed.

“You’ll be happy with her, but perhaps—not tranquilly happy.”

“Quite so, brother. Such people remain always the same. They don’t

yield to fate. So you think I shan’t love her for ever.”

“No; perhaps you will love her for ever. But perhaps you won’t always

be happy with her.”

Alyosha had given his opinion at the time, blushing, and angry with

himself for having yielded to his brother’s entreaties and put such

“foolish” ideas into words. For his opinion had struck him as awfully

foolish immediately after he had uttered it. He felt ashamed too of

having given so confident an opinion about a woman. It was with the

more amazement that he felt now, at the first glance at Katerina

Ivanovna as she ran in to him, that he had perhaps been utterly

mistaken. This time her face was beaming with spontaneous good-natured

kindliness, and direct warm-hearted sincerity. The “pride and

haughtiness,” which had struck Alyosha so much before, was only

betrayed now in a frank, generous energy and a sort of bright, strong

faith in herself. Alyosha realized at the first glance, at the first

word, that all the tragedy of her position in relation to the man she

loved so dearly was no secret to her; that she perhaps already knew

everything, positively everything. And yet, in spite of that, there was

such brightness in her face, such faith in the future. Alyosha felt at

once that he had gravely wronged her in his thoughts. He was conquered

and captivated immediately. Besides all this, he noticed at her first

words that she was in great excitement, an excitement perhaps quite

exceptional and almost approaching ecstasy.

“I was so eager to see you, because I can learn from you the whole

truth—from you and no one else.”

“I have come,” muttered Alyosha confusedly, “I—he sent me.”

“Ah, he sent you! I foresaw that. Now I know everything—everything!”

cried Katerina Ivanovna, her eyes flashing. “Wait a moment, Alexey

Fyodorovitch, I’ll tell you why I’ve been so longing to see you. You

see, I know perhaps far more than you do yourself, and there’s no need

for you to tell me anything. I’ll tell you what I want from you. I want

to know your own last impression of him. I want you to tell me most

directly, plainly, coarsely even (oh, as coarsely as you like!), what

you thought of him just now and of his position after your meeting with

him to-day. That will perhaps be better than if I had a personal

explanation with him, as he does not want to come to me. Do you

understand what I want from you? Now, tell me simply, tell me every

word of the message he sent you with (I knew he would send you).”

“He told me to give you his compliments—and to say that he would never

come again—but to give you his compliments.”

“His compliments? Was that what he said—his own expression?”

“Yes.”

“Accidentally perhaps he made a mistake in the word, perhaps he did not

use the right word?”

“No; he told me precisely to repeat that word. He begged me two or

three times not to forget to say so.”

Katerina Ivanovna flushed hotly.

“Help me now, Alexey Fyodorovitch. Now I really need your help. I’ll

tell you what I think, and you must simply say whether it’s right or

not. Listen! If he had sent me his compliments in passing, without

insisting on your repeating the words, without emphasizing them, that

would be the end of everything! But if he particularly insisted on

those words, if he particularly told you not to forget to repeat them

to me, then perhaps he was in excitement, beside himself. He had made

his decision and was frightened at it. He wasn’t walking away from me

with a resolute step, but leaping headlong. The emphasis on that phrase

may have been simply bravado.”

“Yes, yes!” cried Alyosha warmly. “I believe that is it.”

“And, if so, he’s not altogether lost. I can still save him. Stay! Did

he not tell you anything about money—about three thousand roubles?”

“He did speak about it, and it’s that more than anything that’s

crushing him. He said he had lost his honor and that nothing matters

now,” Alyosha answered warmly, feeling a rush of hope in his heart and

believing that there really might be a way of escape and salvation for

his brother. “But do you know about the money?” he added, and suddenly

broke off.

“I’ve known of it a long time; I telegraphed to Moscow to inquire, and

heard long ago that the money had not arrived. He hadn’t sent the

money, but I said nothing. Last week I learnt that he was still in need

of money. My only object in all this was that he should know to whom to

turn, and who was his true friend. No, he won’t recognize that I am his

truest friend; he won’t know me, and looks on me merely as a woman.

I’ve been tormented all the week, trying to think how to prevent him

from being ashamed to face me because he spent that three thousand. Let

him feel ashamed of himself, let him be ashamed of other people’s

knowing, but not of my knowing. He can tell God everything without

shame. Why is it he still does not understand how much I am ready to

bear for his sake? Why, why doesn’t he know me? How dare he not know me

after all that has happened? I want to save him for ever. Let him

forget me as his betrothed. And here he fears that he is dishonored in

my eyes. Why, he wasn’t afraid to be open with you, Alexey

Fyodorovitch. How is it that I don’t deserve the same?”

The last words she uttered in tears. Tears gushed from her eyes.

“I must tell you,” Alyosha began, his voice trembling too, “what

happened just now between him and my father.”

And he described the whole scene, how Dmitri had sent him to get the

money, how he had broken in, knocked his father down, and after that

had again specially and emphatically begged him to take his compliments

and farewell. “He went to that woman,” Alyosha added softly.

“And do you suppose that I can’t put up with that woman? Does he think

I can’t? But he won’t marry her,” she suddenly laughed nervously.

“Could such a passion last for ever in a Karamazov? It’s passion, not

love. He won’t marry her because she won’t marry him.” Again Katerina

Ivanovna laughed strangely.

“He may marry her,” said Alyosha mournfully, looking down.

“He won’t marry her, I tell you. That girl is an angel. Do you know

that? Do you know that?” Katerina Ivanovna exclaimed suddenly with

extraordinary warmth. “She is one of the most fantastic of fantastic

creatures. I know how bewitching she is, but I know too that she is

kind, firm and noble. Why do you look at me like that, Alexey

Fyodorovitch? Perhaps you are wondering at my words, perhaps you don’t

believe me? Agrafena Alexandrovna, my angel!” she cried suddenly to

some one, peeping into the next room, “come in to us. This is a friend.

This is Alyosha. He knows all about our affairs. Show yourself to him.”

“I’ve only been waiting behind the curtain for you to call me,” said a

soft, one might even say sugary, feminine voice.

The portière was raised and Grushenka herself, smiling and beaming,

came up to the table. A violent revulsion passed over Alyosha. He fixed

his eyes on her and could not take them off. Here she was, that awful

woman, the “beast,” as Ivan had called her half an hour before. And yet

one would have thought the creature standing before him most simple and

ordinary, a good-natured, kind woman, handsome certainly, but so like

other handsome ordinary women! It is true she was very, very

good-looking with that Russian beauty so passionately loved by many

men. She was a rather tall woman, though a little shorter than Katerina

Ivanovna, who was exceptionally tall. She had a full figure, with soft,

as it were, noiseless, movements, softened to a peculiar

over-sweetness, like her voice. She moved, not like Katerina Ivanovna,

with a vigorous, bold step, but noiselessly. Her feet made absolutely

no sound on the floor. She sank softly into a low chair, softly

rustling her sumptuous black silk dress, and delicately nestling her

milk-white neck and broad shoulders in a costly cashmere shawl. She was

twenty-two years old, and her face looked exactly that age. She was

very white in the face, with a pale pink tint on her cheeks. The

modeling of her face might be said to be too broad, and the lower jaw

was set a trifle forward. Her upper lip was thin, but the slightly

prominent lower lip was at least twice as full, and looked pouting. But

her magnificent, abundant dark brown hair, her sable-colored eyebrows

and charming gray-blue eyes with their long lashes would have made the

most indifferent person, meeting her casually in a crowd in the street,

stop at the sight of her face and remember it long after. What struck

Alyosha most in that face was its expression of childlike good nature.

There was a childlike look in her eyes, a look of childish delight. She

came up to the table, beaming with delight and seeming to expect

something with childish, impatient, and confiding curiosity. The light

in her eyes gladdened the soul—Alyosha felt that. There was something

else in her which he could not understand, or would not have been able

to define, and which yet perhaps unconsciously affected him. It was

that softness, that voluptuousness of her bodily movements, that

catlike noiselessness. Yet it was a vigorous, ample body. Under the

shawl could be seen full broad shoulders, a high, still quite girlish

bosom. Her figure suggested the lines of the Venus of Milo, though

already in somewhat exaggerated proportions. That could be divined.

Connoisseurs of Russian beauty could have foretold with certainty that

this fresh, still youthful beauty would lose its harmony by the age of

thirty, would “spread”; that the face would become puffy, and that

wrinkles would very soon appear upon her forehead and round the eyes;

the complexion would grow coarse and red perhaps—in fact, that it was

the beauty of the moment, the fleeting beauty which is so often met

with in Russian women. Alyosha, of course, did not think of this; but

though he was fascinated, yet he wondered with an unpleasant sensation,

and as it were regretfully, why she drawled in that way and could not

speak naturally. She did so evidently feeling there was a charm in the

exaggerated, honeyed modulation of the syllables. It was, of course,

only a bad, underbred habit that showed bad education and a false idea

of good manners. And yet this intonation and manner of speaking

impressed Alyosha as almost incredibly incongruous with the childishly

simple and happy expression of her face, the soft, babyish joy in her

eyes. Katerina Ivanovna at once made her sit down in an arm-chair

facing Alyosha, and ecstatically kissed her several times on her

smiling lips. She seemed quite in love with her.

“This is the first time we’ve met, Alexey Fyodorovitch,” she said

rapturously. “I wanted to know her, to see her. I wanted to go to her,

but I’d no sooner expressed the wish than she came to me. I knew we

should settle everything together—everything. My heart told me so—I was

begged not to take the step, but I foresaw it would be a way out of the

difficulty, and I was not mistaken. Grushenka has explained everything

to me, told me all she means to do. She flew here like an angel of

goodness and brought us peace and joy.”

“You did not disdain me, sweet, excellent young lady,” drawled

Grushenka in her sing-song voice, still with the same charming smile of

delight.

“Don’t dare to speak to me like that, you sorceress, you witch! Disdain

you! Here, I must kiss your lower lip once more. It looks as though it

were swollen, and now it will be more so, and more and more. Look how

she laughs, Alexey Fyodorovitch! It does one’s heart good to see the

angel.”

Alyosha flushed, and faint, imperceptible shivers kept running down

him.

“You make so much of me, dear young lady, and perhaps I am not at all

worthy of your kindness.”

“Not worthy! She’s not worthy of it!” Katerina Ivanovna cried again

with the same warmth. “You know, Alexey Fyodorovitch, we’re fanciful,

we’re self-willed, but proudest of the proud in our little heart. We’re

noble, we’re generous, Alexey Fyodorovitch, let me tell you. We have

only been unfortunate. We were too ready to make every sacrifice for an

unworthy, perhaps, or fickle man. There was one man—one, an officer

too, we loved him, we sacrificed everything to him. That was long ago,

five years ago, and he has forgotten us, he has married. Now he is a

widower, he has written, he is coming here, and, do you know, we’ve

loved him, none but him, all this time, and we’ve loved him all our

life! He will come, and Grushenka will be happy again. For the last

five years she’s been wretched. But who can reproach her, who can boast

of her favor? Only that bedridden old merchant, but he is more like her

father, her friend, her protector. He found her then in despair, in

agony, deserted by the man she loved. She was ready to drown herself

then, but the old merchant saved her—saved her!”

“You defend me very kindly, dear young lady. You are in a great hurry

about everything,” Grushenka drawled again.

“Defend you! Is it for me to defend you? Should I dare to defend you?

Grushenka, angel, give me your hand. Look at that charming soft little

hand, Alexey Fyodorovitch! Look at it! It has brought me happiness and

has lifted me up, and I’m going to kiss it, outside and inside, here,

here, here!”

And three times she kissed the certainly charming, though rather fat,

hand of Grushenka in a sort of rapture. She held out her hand with a

charming musical, nervous little laugh, watched the “sweet young lady,”

and obviously liked having her hand kissed.

“Perhaps there’s rather too much rapture,” thought Alyosha. He blushed.

He felt a peculiar uneasiness at heart the whole time.

“You won’t make me blush, dear young lady, kissing my hand like this

before Alexey Fyodorovitch.”

“Do you think I meant to make you blush?” said Katerina Ivanovna,

somewhat surprised. “Ah, my dear, how little you understand me!”

“Yes, and you too perhaps quite misunderstand me, dear young lady.

Maybe I’m not so good as I seem to you. I’ve a bad heart; I will have

my own way. I fascinated poor Dmitri Fyodorovitch that day simply for

fun.”

“But now you’ll save him. You’ve given me your word. You’ll explain it

all to him. You’ll break to him that you have long loved another man,

who is now offering you his hand.”

“Oh, no! I didn’t give you my word to do that. It was you kept talking

about that. I didn’t give you my word.”

“Then I didn’t quite understand you,” said Katerina Ivanovna slowly,

turning a little pale. “You promised—”

“Oh, no, angel lady, I’ve promised nothing,” Grushenka interrupted

softly and evenly, still with the same gay and simple expression. “You

see at once, dear young lady, what a willful wretch I am compared with

you. If I want to do a thing I do it. I may have made you some promise

just now. But now again I’m thinking: I may take to Mitya again. I

liked him very much once—liked him for almost a whole hour. Now maybe I

shall go and tell him to stay with me from this day forward. You see,

I’m so changeable.”

“Just now you said—something quite different,” Katerina Ivanovna

whispered faintly.

“Ah, just now! But, you know. I’m such a soft-hearted, silly creature.

Only think what he’s gone through on my account! What if when I go home

I feel sorry for him? What then?”

“I never expected—”

“Ah, young lady, how good and generous you are compared with me! Now

perhaps you won’t care for a silly creature like me, now you know my

character. Give me your sweet little hand, angelic lady,” she said

tenderly, and with a sort of reverence took Katerina Ivanovna’s hand.

“Here, dear young lady, I’ll take your hand and kiss it as you did

mine. You kissed mine three times, but I ought to kiss yours three

hundred times to be even with you. Well, but let that pass. And then it

shall be as God wills. Perhaps I shall be your slave entirely and want

to do your bidding like a slave. Let it be as God wills, without any

agreements and promises. What a sweet hand—what a sweet hand you have!

You sweet young lady, you incredible beauty!”

She slowly raised the hands to her lips, with the strange object indeed

of “being even” with her in kisses.

Katerina Ivanovna did not take her hand away. She listened with timid

hope to the last words, though Grushenka’s promise to do her bidding

like a slave was very strangely expressed. She looked intently into her

eyes; she still saw in those eyes the same simple-hearted, confiding

expression, the same bright gayety.

“She’s perhaps too naïve,” thought Katerina Ivanovna, with a gleam of

hope.

Grushenka meanwhile seemed enthusiastic over the “sweet hand.” She

raised it deliberately to her lips. But she held it for two or three

minutes near her lips, as though reconsidering something.

“Do you know, angel lady,” she suddenly drawled in an even more soft

and sugary voice, “do you know, after all, I think I won’t kiss your

hand?” And she laughed a little merry laugh.

“As you please. What’s the matter with you?” said Katerina Ivanovna,

starting suddenly.

“So that you may be left to remember that you kissed my hand, but I

didn’t kiss yours.”

There was a sudden gleam in her eyes. She looked with awful intentness

at Katerina Ivanovna.

“Insolent creature!” cried Katerina Ivanovna, as though suddenly

grasping something. She flushed all over and leapt up from her seat.

Grushenka too got up, but without haste.

“So I shall tell Mitya how you kissed my hand, but I didn’t kiss yours

at all. And how he will laugh!”

“Vile slut! Go away!”

“Ah, for shame, young lady! Ah, for shame! That’s unbecoming for you,

dear young lady, a word like that.”

“Go away! You’re a creature for sale!” screamed Katerina Ivanovna.

Every feature was working in her utterly distorted face.

“For sale indeed! You used to visit gentlemen in the dusk for money

once; you brought your beauty for sale. You see, I know.”

Katerina Ivanovna shrieked, and would have rushed at her, but Alyosha

held her with all his strength.

“Not a step, not a word! Don’t speak, don’t answer her. She’ll go

away—she’ll go at once.”

At that instant Katerina Ivanovna’s two aunts ran in at her cry, and

with them a maid-servant. All hurried to her.

“I will go away,” said Grushenka, taking up her mantle from the sofa.

“Alyosha, darling, see me home!”

“Go away—go away, make haste!” cried Alyosha, clasping his hands

imploringly.

“Dear little Alyosha, see me home! I’ve got a pretty little story to

tell you on the way. I got up this scene for your benefit, Alyosha. See

me home, dear, you’ll be glad of it afterwards.”

Alyosha turned away, wringing his hands. Grushenka ran out of the

house, laughing musically.

Katerina Ivanovna went into a fit of hysterics. She sobbed, and was

shaken with convulsions. Every one fussed round her.

“I warned you,” said the elder of her aunts. “I tried to prevent your

doing this. You’re too impulsive. How could you do such a thing? You

don’t know these creatures, and they say she’s worse than any of them.

You are too self-willed.”

“She’s a tigress!” yelled Katerina Ivanovna. “Why did you hold me,

Alexey Fyodorovitch? I’d have beaten her—beaten her!”

She could not control herself before Alyosha; perhaps she did not care

to, indeed.

“She ought to be flogged in public on a scaffold!”

Alyosha withdrew towards the door.

“But, my God!” cried Katerina Ivanovna, clasping her hands. “He! He! He

could be so dishonorable, so inhuman! Why, he told that creature what

happened on that fatal, accursed day! ‘You brought your beauty for

sale, dear young lady.’ She knows it! Your brother’s a scoundrel,

Alexey Fyodorovitch.”

Alyosha wanted to say something, but he couldn’t find a word. His heart

ached.

“Go away, Alexey Fyodorovitch! It’s shameful, it’s awful for me!

To-morrow, I beg you on my knees, come to-morrow. Don’t condemn me.

Forgive me. I don’t know what I shall do with myself now!”

Alyosha walked out into the street reeling. He could have wept as she

did. Suddenly he was overtaken by the maid.

“The young lady forgot to give you this letter from Madame Hohlakov;

it’s been left with us since dinner-time.”

Alyosha took the little pink envelope mechanically and put it, almost

unconsciously, into his pocket.