The garden was about three acres or a little less, but there were trees planted only around it, along all four fences—apple trees, maples, lindens, birches. The middle of the garden was empty, a meadow that yielded several hundred pounds of hay in the summer. The owner rented the garden out for a few roubles each spring. There were rows of raspberries, gooseberries, currants, all near the fence as well; there was a vegetable garden up next to the house, started, in fact, quite recently. Dmitri Fyodorovich led his guest to the corner of the garden farthest from the house. Suddenly, amid a thicket of lindens and old currant, elder, snow ball, and lilac bushes, something that looked like the ruins of an ancient green gazebo appeared, blackened and lopsided, with lattice sides, but with a roof under which it was still possible to find shelter from the rain. The gazebo had been built God knows when, about fifty years ago according to tradition, by the then owner of the house, Alexander Karlovich von Schmidt, a retired lieutenant colonel. But everything. was decayed, the floor was rotted, all the planks were loose, the wood smelled of dampness. Inside the gazebo stood a green wooden table, fixed in the ground, and around it were benches, also green, on which it was still possible to sit. Alyosha had noticed at once his brother’s exalted state, but as he entered the gazebo, he saw on the table half a bottle of cognac and a liqueur glass.
“It’s cognac!” Mitya laughed loudly. “I see your look: ‘He’s drinking again! ‘ Do not believe the phantom.
Do not believe the empty, lying crowd, Forget your doubts . . .[80]
I’m not drinking, I’m just relishing, as that pig of yours, Rakitin, says; and he’ll become a state councillor and still say ‘relishing.’ Sit down. I could take you, Alyoshka, and press you to my heart until I crushed you, for in all the world ... I really ... re-al-ly ... (understand?) ... love only you!”
He spoke this last line almost in a sort of ecstasy.
“Only you, and also one other, a ‘low woman’ I’ve fallen in love with and it was the end of me. But to fall in love does not mean to love. One can fall in love and still hate. Remember that! I say it now while there’s still joy in it. Sit down here at the table, I’ll be right beside you, and I’ll look at you and go on talking. You’ll keep quiet and I’ll keep talking, for the time has come. And by the way, you know, I’ve decided we really ought to speak softly, because here ... here ... the most unexpected ears may turn up. I’ll explain everything: sequel to follow, as they say. Why was I longing for you, thirsting for you now, all these days and now? (It’s five days since I dropped anchor here.) Why all these days? Because I’ll tell everything to you alone, because it’s necessary, because you’re necessary, because tomorrow I’ll fall from the clouds, because tomorrow life will end and begin. Have you ever felt, have you ever dreamed that you were falling off a mountain into a deep pit? Well, I’m falling now, and not in a dream. And I’m not afraid, and don’t you be afraid either. That is, I am afraid, but I’m delighted! That is, not delighted, but ecstatic ... Oh, to hell with it, it’s all the same, whatever it is. Strong spirit, weak spirit, woman’s spirit—whatever it is! Let us praise nature: see how the sun shines, how clear the sky is, the leaves are all green, it’s still summer, four o’clock in the afternoon, so calm! Where were you going?”
“To father’s, but first I wanted to stop and see Katerina Ivanovna.”
“To her, and to father! Whew! A coincidence! Why was I calling you, wishing for you, why was I longing and thirsting for you with every curve of my soul and even with my ribs? Because I wanted to send you precisely to father, and then to her as well, to Katerina Ivanovna, to have done with her and with father. To send an angel. I could have sent anybody, but I need to send an angel. And here you are going to her and father yourself.”
“Did you really want to send me?” Alyosha let fall, with a pained expression on his face.
“Wait! You knew it! And I see that you understood everything at once. But not a word, not a word now. Don’t pity me, and don’t cry!”
Dmitri Fyodorovich stood up, thought for a moment, and put his finger to his forehead:
“She sent for you herself, she wrote you a letter or something like that, and that’s why you were going to see her, otherwise why would you go?”
“Here’s the note.” Alyosha took it from his pocket. Mitya quickly read it over.
