Brothers -- Fiction; Didactic fiction; Fathers and sons -- Fiction; Russia -- Social life and customs -- 1533-1917 -- Fiction
“Wait, dear. I haven’t told you the chief, the final decision I came to
during the night. I feel that perhaps my decision is a terrible one—for
me, but I foresee that nothing will induce me to change it—nothing. It
will be so all my life. My dear, kind, ever-faithful and generous
adviser, the one friend I have in the world, Ivan Fyodorovitch, with
his deep insight into the heart, approves and commends my decision. He
knows it.”
“Yes, I approve of it,” Ivan assented, in a subdued but firm voice.
“But I should like Alyosha, too (Ah! Alexey Fyodorovitch, forgive my
calling you simply Alyosha), I should like Alexey Fyodorovitch, too, to
tell me before my two friends whether I am right. I feel instinctively
that you, Alyosha, my dear brother (for you are a dear brother to me),”
she said again ecstatically, taking his cold hand in her hot one, “I
foresee that your decision, your approval, will bring me peace, in
spite of all my sufferings, for, after your words, I shall be calm and
submit—I feel that.”
“I don’t know what you are asking me,” said Alyosha, flushing. “I only
know that I love you and at this moment wish for your happiness more
than my own!... But I know nothing about such affairs,” something
impelled him to add hurriedly.
“In such affairs, Alexey Fyodorovitch, in such affairs, the chief thing
is honor and duty and something higher—I don’t know what—but higher
perhaps even than duty. I am conscious of this irresistible feeling in
my heart, and it compels me irresistibly. But it may all be put in two
words. I’ve already decided, even if he marries that—creature,” she
began solemnly, “whom I never, never can forgive, _even then I will not
abandon him_. Henceforward I will never, never abandon him!” she cried,
breaking into a sort of pale, hysterical ecstasy. “Not that I would run
after him continually, get in his way and worry him. Oh, no! I will go
away to another town—where you like—but I will watch over him all my
life—I will watch over him all my life unceasingly. When he becomes
unhappy with that woman, and that is bound to happen quite soon, let
him come to me and he will find a friend, a sister.... Only a sister,
of course, and so for ever; but he will learn at least that that sister
is really his sister, who loves him and has sacrificed all her life to
him. I will gain my point. I will insist on his knowing me and
confiding entirely in me, without reserve,” she cried, in a sort of
frenzy. “I will be a god to whom he can pray—and that, at least, he
owes me for his treachery and for what I suffered yesterday through
him. And let him see that all my life I will be true to him and the
promise I gave him, in spite of his being untrue and betraying me. I
will—I will become nothing but a means for his happiness, or—how shall
I say?—an instrument, a machine for his happiness, and that for my
whole life, my whole life, and that he may see that all his life!
That’s my decision. Ivan Fyodorovitch fully approves me.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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