Brothers -- Fiction; Didactic fiction; Fathers and sons -- Fiction; Russia -- Social life and customs -- 1533-1917 -- Fiction
“Ah, Lise, it was not so a bit. The letter is with me now, and it was
this morning, in this pocket. Here it is.”
Alyosha pulled the letter out laughing, and showed it her at a
distance.
“But I am not going to give it to you. Look at it from here.”
“Why, then you told a lie? You, a monk, told a lie!”
“I told a lie if you like,” Alyosha laughed, too. “I told a lie so as
not to give you back the letter. It’s very precious to me,” he added
suddenly, with strong feeling, and again he flushed. “It always will
be, and I won’t give it up to any one!”
Lise looked at him joyfully. “Alyosha,” she murmured again, “look at
the door. Isn’t mamma listening?”
“Very well, Lise, I’ll look; but wouldn’t it be better not to look? Why
suspect your mother of such meanness?”
“What meanness? As for her spying on her daughter, it’s her right, it’s
not meanness!” cried Lise, firing up. “You may be sure, Alexey
Fyodorovitch, that when I am a mother, if I have a daughter like myself
I shall certainly spy on her!”
“Really, Lise? That’s not right.”
“Oh, my goodness! What has meanness to do with it? If she were
listening to some ordinary worldly conversation, it would be meanness,
but when her own daughter is shut up with a young man.... Listen,
Alyosha, do you know I shall spy upon you as soon as we are married,
and let me tell you I shall open all your letters and read them, so you
may as well be prepared.”
“Yes, of course, if so—” muttered Alyosha, “only it’s not right.”
“Ah, how contemptuous! Alyosha, dear, we won’t quarrel the very first
day. I’d better tell you the whole truth. Of course, it’s very wrong to
spy on people, and, of course, I am not right and you are, only I shall
spy on you all the same.”
“Do, then; you won’t find out anything,” laughed Alyosha.
“And, Alyosha, will you give in to me? We must decide that too.”
“I shall be delighted to, Lise, and certain to, only not in the most
important things. Even if you don’t agree with me, I shall do my duty
in the most important things.”
“That’s right; but let me tell you I am ready to give in to you not
only in the most important matters, but in everything. And I am ready
to vow to do so now—in everything, and for all my life!” cried Lise
fervently, “and I’ll do it gladly, gladly! What’s more, I’ll swear
never to spy on you, never once, never to read one of your letters. For
you are right and I am not. And though I shall be awfully tempted to
spy, I know that I won’t do it since you consider it dishonorable. You
are my conscience now.... Listen, Alexey Fyodorovitch, why have you
been so sad lately—both yesterday and to-day? I know you have a lot of
anxiety and trouble, but I see you have some special grief besides,
some secret one, perhaps?”
“Yes, Lise, I have a secret one, too,” answered Alyosha mournfully. “I
see you love me, since you guessed that.”
“What grief? What about? Can you tell me?” asked Lise with timid
entreaty.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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