Brothers -- Fiction; Didactic fiction; Fathers and sons -- Fiction; Russia -- Social life and customs -- 1533-1917 -- Fiction
He warmly pressed Alyosha’s hand, and still looking down, without
raising his head, as though tearing himself away, turned rapidly
towards the town.
Alyosha looked after him, unable to believe he would go away so
abruptly.
“Stay, Alexey, one more confession to you alone!” cried Dmitri,
suddenly turning back. “Look at me. Look at me well. You see here,
here—there’s terrible disgrace in store for me.” (As he said “here,”
Dmitri struck his chest with his fist with a strange air, as though the
dishonor lay precisely on his chest, in some spot, in a pocket,
perhaps, or hanging round his neck.) “You know me now, a scoundrel, an
avowed scoundrel, but let me tell you that I’ve never done anything
before and never shall again, anything that can compare in baseness
with the dishonor which I bear now at this very minute on my breast,
here, here, which will come to pass, though I’m perfectly free to stop
it. I can stop it or carry it through, note that. Well, let me tell
you, I shall carry it through. I shan’t stop it. I told you everything
just now, but I didn’t tell you this, because even I had not brass
enough for it. I can still pull up; if I do, I can give back the full
half of my lost honor to-morrow. But I shan’t pull up. I shall carry
out my base plan, and you can bear witness that I told you so
beforehand. Darkness and destruction! No need to explain. You’ll find
out in due time. The filthy back-alley and the she-devil. Good-by.
Don’t pray for me, I’m not worth it. And there’s no need, no need at
all.... I don’t need it! Away!”
And he suddenly retreated, this time finally. Alyosha went towards the
monastery.
“What? I shall never see him again! What is he saying?” he wondered
wildly. “Why, I shall certainly see him to-morrow. I shall look him up.
I shall make a point of it. What does he mean?”
He went round the monastery, and crossed the pine-wood to the
hermitage. The door was opened to him, though no one was admitted at
that hour. There was a tremor in his heart as he went into Father
Zossima’s cell.
“Why, why, had he gone forth? Why had he sent him into the world? Here
was peace. Here was holiness. But there was confusion, there was
darkness in which one lost one’s way and went astray at once....”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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