The Brothers Karamazov полностью

“Lise, my dearest Alexei Fyodorovich,” she whispered almost in his ear, “Lise has given me a strange surprise just now, but she has also moved me, and so my heart forgives her everything. Imagine, no sooner had you gone than she suddenly began sincerely regretting that she had supposedly been laughing at you yesterday and today. But she wasn’t laughing, she was only joking. Yet she so seriously regretted it, almost to the point of tears, that I was surprised. She has never so seriously regretted laughing at me, she has always made light of it. And you know, she laughs at me all the time. But now she’s serious, now everything has become serious. She values your opinion highly, Alexei Fyodorovich, and, if possible, do not be offended, and do not bear her a grudge. I myself am forever sparing her, because she’s such a smart little girl—don’t you think so? She was saying just now that you were a friend of her childhood—’the most serious friend of my childhood’—imagine that, the most serious—and what about me? In this regard she has the most serious feelings, and even memories, and above all, these phrases and words of hers, the most unexpected little words, that suddenly pop out when you least expect them. Recently, for instance, talking about a pine tree: there was a pine tree standing in our garden when she was very little, maybe it’s still standing, so there’s no need to speak in the past tense. Pines are not people, Alexei Fyodorovich, they take a long time to change. ‘Mama,’ she said, ‘how I pine for that pine’—you see, ‘pine’ and ‘pine’—but she put it some other way, because something’s confused here, pine is such a silly word, only she said something so original on the subject that I decidedly cannot begin to repeat it. Besides, I’ve forgotten it all. Well, good-bye, I am deeply shaken, and am probably losing my mind. Ah, Alexei Fyodorovich, twice in my life I’ve lost my mind and had to be treated. Go to Lise. Cheer her up, as you always manage to do so charmingly. Lise,” she called, going up to her door, “here I’ve brought you your much-insulted Alexei Fyodorovich, and he’s not at all angry, I assure you; quite the opposite, he’s surprised you could think so!”

“Merci, maman. Come in, Alexei Fyodorovich.”

Alyosha went in. Lise looked somehow embarrassed and suddenly blushed all over. She seemed to be ashamed of something, and, as always happens in such cases, she quickly began speaking of something quite unrelated, as if at that moment only this unrelated thing interested her.

“Mama suddenly told me just now, Alexei Fyodorovich, the whole story about the two hundred roubles, and about this errand of yours ... to that poor officer ... and the whole awful story, how he was offended, and, you know, though mama gets everything mixed up ... she keeps jumping all over ... I still cried when I heard it. Well, what happened? Did you give him the money, and how is the wretched man now ... ?”

“That’s just it—I didn’t, but it’s a long story,” Alyosha replied, as if for his part what concerned him most was precisely that he had not given the money, but at the same time Lise saw perfectly well that he, too, was looking away and was also obviously trying to speak of unrelated matters. Alyosha sat down at the table and began telling his story, but from the first words he lost all his embarrassment and, in turn, carried Lise away. He spoke under the influence of strong emotion and the recent extraordinary impression, and succeeded in telling it well and thoroughly. Earlier, while still in Moscow, still in Lise’s childhood, he had enjoyed visiting her and telling her now something that had just happened to him, now something he had read, or again something he remembered from his own childhood. Sometimes they even both daydreamed together and made up long stories between them, mostly gay and amusing ones. Now it was as if they were suddenly transported back to that time in Moscow two years before. Lise was greatly moved by his story. Alyosha managed to paint the image of “Ilyushechka” for her with ardent feeling. And when he finished describing in great detail the scene of the wretched man trampling on the money, Lise clasped her hands and cried out with irrepressible feeling: “So you didn’t give him the money, you just let him run away like that! My God, but you should at least have run after him and caught him...”

“No, Lise, it’s better that I didn’t run after him,” Alyosha said, getting up from his chair and anxiously pacing the room.

“How better? Why better? Now they’ll die without bread!”

“They won’t die, because these two hundred roubles will still catch up with them. He’ll take them tomorrow, despite all. Yes, tomorrow he’ll certainly take them,” Alyosha said, pacing back and forth in thought. “You see, Lise,” he went on, suddenly stopping in front of her, “I made a mistake there, but the mistake has turned out for the better.”

“What mistake, and why for the better?”