“Oh, no matter, no matter, of course no matter! Forgive me, Alyosha dear ... You know, until now I almost didn’t respect you ... that is, I respected you, but on an equal footing, and now I shall respect you on a greater footing ... Dear, don’t be angry at my ’witticisms,’” she went on at once with strong feeling, “I’m funny, I’m little, but you, you ... Listen, Alexei Fyodorovich, isn’t there something in all this reasoning of ours, I mean, of yours ... no, better, of ours ... isn’t there some contempt for him, for this wretched man ... that we’re examining his soul like this, as if we were looking down on him? That we have decided so certainly, now, that he will accept the money?”
“No, Lise, there is no contempt in it,” Alyosha answered firmly, as if he were already prepared for the question. “I thought it over myself, on the way here. Consider, what contempt can there be if we ourselves are just the same as he is, if everyone is just the same as he is? Because we are just the same, not better. And even if we were better, we would still be the same in his place. . . I don’t know about you, Lise, but for myself I consider that my soul is petty in many ways. And his is not petty, on the contrary, it is very sensitive ... No, Lise, there is no contempt for him! You know, Lise, my elder said once that most people need to be looked after like children, and some like the sick in hospitals ...”
“Ah, Alexei Fyodorovich, my darling, let’s look after people that way!”
“Yes, let’s, Lise, I’m ready—only personally I’m not quite ready. I’m sometimes very impatient, and sometimes I don’t see things. With you it’s quite different.”
“Ah, I don’t believe it! Alexei Fyodorovich, how happy I am!”
“How good that you say so, Lise. “
“Alexei Fyodorovich, you are wonderfully good, but sometimes it’s as if you’re a pedant ... and then one looks, and you’re not a pedant at all. Go to the door, open it quietly, and see whether mama is eavesdropping,” Lise suddenly whispered in a sort of nervous, hurried whisper.
Alyosha went, opened the door a little, and reported that no one was eavesdropping.
“Come here, Alexei Fyodorovich,” Lise went on, blushing more and more, “give me your hand, so. Listen, I must make you a great confession: yesterday’s letter was not a joke, it was serious...”
And she hid her eyes with her hand. One could see that she was very ashamed to be making this confession. Suddenly she seized his hand and impetuously kissed it three times.
“Ah, Lise, isn’t that wonderful,” Alyosha exclaimed joyfully. “And I was completely sure that you wrote it seriously.”
“He was sure—just imagine!” she suddenly pushed his hand aside, without, however, letting go of it, blushing terribly and laughing a little happy laugh, “I kiss his hand and he says ‘how wonderful.’” But her reproach was unjust: Alyosha, too, was in great confusion. “I wish you would always like me, Lise, but I don’t know how to do it,” he barely murmured, blushing himself.
“Alyosha, dear, you are cold and impudent. Just look at him! He was so good as to choose me for his spouse, and left it at that! He was quite sure I wrote to him seriously—how nice! It’s impudence, that’s what it is!”
“Why, is it bad that I was sure?” Alyosha suddenly laughed.
“Ah, Alyosha, on the contrary, it is terribly good,” Lise looked at him tenderly and with happiness. Alyosha stood still holding her hand in his. Suddenly he leaned forward and kissed her full on the lips.
“What’s this now? What are you doing?” Lise cried. Alyosha was quite lost.
“Forgive me if I’m not ... Maybe it was a terribly silly ... You said I was cold, so I up and kissed you ... Only I see it came out silly...”
Lise laughed and hid her face in her hands.
“And in that dress!” escaped her in the midst of her laughter, but she suddenly stopped laughing and became all serious, almost severe.
“Well, Alyosha, we must put off kissing, because neither of us knows how to do it yet, and we still have a long time to wait,” she ended suddenly. “You’d better tell me why you’re taking me—such a fool, such a sick little fool, and you so intelligent, so intellectual, so observant? Ah, Alyosha, I’m terribly happy, because I’m not worthy of you at all!”
“You are, Lise. In a few days I’ll be leaving the monastery for good. Going out into the world, one ought to get married, that I know. And so he told me. Who better could I have than you ... and who else but you would have me? I’ve already thought it over. First, you’ve known me since childhood, and second, you have very many abilities that are not in me at all. Your soul is lighter than mine; above all, you are more innocent than I am, and I’ve already touched many, many things ... Ah, you don’t know it, but I, too, am a Karamazov! What matter if you laugh and joke, and at me, too? On the contrary, laugh—I’m so glad of it ... But you laugh like a little girl, and inside you think like a martyr...”
“A martyr? How so?”
