The Brothers Karamazov

Chapter 5: At Ilyusha’s Bedside

The room, already familiar to us, in which the family of our acquaintance retired captain Snegiryov lived was at that moment both stuffy and crowded with a numerous gathering of visitors. This time several boys were sitting with Ilyusha, and though all of them were ready, like Smurov, to deny that it was Alyosha who had reconciled and brought them together with Ilyusha, still it was so. His whole art in this case lay in getting them together one by one, without “sentimental slop,” but as if quite unintentionally and inadvertently. And this brought enormous relief to Ilyusha in his suffering. Seeing an almost tender friendship and concern for him in all these boys, his former enemies, he was very touched. Only Krasotkin was missing, and this lay as a terrible burden on his heart. If in Ilyushechka’s bitter memories there was any that was most bitter, it was precisely the whole episode with Krasotkin, once his sole friend and protector, whom he had then attacked with a knife. So, too, thought the smart lad Smurov (who was the first to come and be reconciled with Ilyusha). But when Smurov remotely mentioned that Alyosha wanted to come and see him “on a certain matter,” Krasotkin at once broke in and cut it short, charging Smurov to inform “Karamazov” immediately that he knew how to act himself, that he asked for no one’s advice, and that if he did go to see the sick boy, he would decide himself when to go, because he had “his own considerations.” That was still about two weeks before this Sunday. And that was why Alyosha had not gone in person to see him, as he had intended. Yet, though he waited a little, he nevertheless sent Smurov to Krasotkin once again, and then a third time. But both times Krasotkin responded with a most impatient and abrupt refusal, asking him to tell Alyosha that if he came in person to get him, then just for that he would never go to see Ilyusha, and that he did not want to be bothered any more. Smurov himself had not known even up to the very last day that Kolya had decided to go and see Ilyusha that morning, and it had only been the previous evening that Kolya, as he was saying good-bye to Smurov, suddenly told him brusquely to wait for him at home the next morning, because he was going to the Snegiryovs’ with him, warning him, however, that he must not dare inform anyone of his coming, because he wanted to arrive unexpectedly. Smurov obeyed. And his hope that Krasotkin would bring the lost Zhuchka, Smurov based on a few words he dropped in passing, “that they were all asses if they couldn’t find the dog, provided it was alive.” But when Smurov, waiting for the right moment, timidly hinted to Krasotkin what he had guessed about the dog, the latter suddenly became terribly angry: “What an ass I’d be to go looking for other people’s dogs all over town, when I’ve got my Perezvon! And who would even dream that a dog could survive after swallowing a pin? It’s sentimental slop, that’s all!”

Meanwhile, for almost two weeks Ilyusha had not left his little bed in the corner near the icons. And he had not gone to classes since the time he had met Alyosha and bitten his finger. Incidentally, it was on that same day that he had become sick, though for another month he was somehow able occasionally to walk around the room and entryway when he occasionally got up from his bed. Finally he grew quite weak, so that he could not move without his father’s help. His father trembled over him, even stopped drinking entirely, became almost crazy from fear that his boy would die, and often, especially after leading him around the room by the arm and putting him back to bed, would run out to the entryway, to a dark corner, and, leaning his forehead against the wall, would begin to weep, shaking and sobbing uncontrollably, stifling his voice so that his sobs would not be heard by Ilyushechka.

Then, coming back into the room, he would usually start amusing and comforting his dear boy with something, would tell him stories, funny jokes, or mimic various funny people he had chanced to meet, even imitating animals with their funny howls or cries. But Ilyusha disliked it very much when his father clowned and presented himself as a buffoon. Though the boy tried not to show that he found it unpleasant, it pained his heart to realize that his father was socially humiliated, and he never for a moment forgot the “whiskbroom” and that “terrible day.” Ninochka, llyushechka’s crippled, quiet, and meek sister, also did not like it when their lather started clowning (as for Varvara Nikolaevna, she had long since returned to the university in Petersburg), but the half-witted mama was greatly amused, and laughed heartily when her husband began acting something out or making funny gestures. It was the only thing that could comfort her, and the rest of the time she spent grumbling and complaining constantly that everyone had forgotten her now, that no one respected her, that they offended her, and so on and so forth. But in the very last few days, she, too, had quite changed, as it were. She began looking frequently at Ilyusha in his little corner, and grew thoughtful. She grew much more silent, quiet, and if she began to cry, it was softly, so as not to be heard. With bitter perplexity, the captain noticed this change in her. At first she did not like the boys’ visits, which only made her angry, but later their cheerful voices and stories began to amuse her, too, and in the end she liked it so much that, if the boys had stopped coming, she would sorely have missed them. When the children told something or started playing, she laughed and clapped her hands. She would call some of them over and kiss them. She came especially to love the boy Smurov. As for the captain, the appearance in his lodgings of children who had come to entertain Ilyusha from the very beginning filled his soul with rapturous joy, and even with hope that Ilyusha would stop being sad now, and would perhaps recover sooner because of it. Until very recently, he never doubted, not for a single moment, despite all his fear for Ilyusha, that his boy would suddenly recover. He met the little guests with reverence, hovered around them, waited on them, was ready to give them rides on his back, and indeed even started giving them rides, but Ilyusha did not like these games and they were abandoned. He began buying treats for them, gingerbread, nuts, served tea, made sandwiches. It should be noted that all this time he was never without money. He had accepted the two hundred roubles from Katerina Ivanovna, exactly as Alyosha predicted. And then Katerina Ivanovna, learning in more detail about their situation and about Ilyusha’s illness, visited their home herself, became acquainted with the whole family, and even managed to charm the captain’s half-witted wife. Since then she had been unstinting in her help to them; and the captain, overwhelmed with terror at the thought that his boy might die, forgot his former hauteur and humbly accepted her alms. All this while Dr. Herzenstube, at Katerina Ivanovna’s invitation, kept coming to see the sick boy, but little good came of his visits, and he simply stuffed him full of medications. But, on the other hand, they were expecting at the captain’s that day—that is, that same Sunday morning—a new doctor, visiting from Moscow, who was considered a celebrity there. Katerina Ivanovna had written specially and invited him from Moscow for a large sum—not for Ilyushechka, but for another purpose, of which more will be said below in the proper place, but since he had come anyway, she asked him to see Ilyushechka as well, and the captain had been forewarned. But he did not at all anticipate the arrival of Kolya Krasotkin, though he had long wished for a visit, finally, from this boy who was the cause of such torment to his Ilyushechka. At the moment when Krasotkin opened the door and appeared in the room, everyone, the captain and all the boys, was crowded around the sick boy’s bed, looking at the tiny mastiff pup, just brought in, that had been born just the day before, but had been ordered by the captain a week earlier to amuse and comfort Ilyushechka, who kept grieving over the vanished and, of course, by now dead Zhuchka. But though Ilyusha, who had already heard and knew three days before that he was to be given a little dog, and not simply a dog but a real mastiff (which, of course, was terribly important), had, from fine and delicate feeling, expressed joy at the present, still everyone, both his father and the boys, could see clearly that the new dog stirred perhaps even more strongly in his heart the memory of the unfortunate Zhuchka, whom he had tormented to death. The puppy lay and fumbled about at his side, and he, with a sickly smile, was stroking it with his thin, pale, withered little hand; one could see that he even liked the dog, but still ... it was not Zhuchka, Zhuchka was not there, but if there could be both Zhuchka and the puppy together, then there would be complete happiness!

“Krasotkin!” one of the boys suddenly cried, the first to notice that Kolya had come in. There was visible excitement, the boys stepped back and stood on either side of the little bed, so that suddenly Ilyushechka was in full view. The captain rushed impetuously to meet Kolya.

“Come in, come in ... dear guest!”he prattled to him. “Ilyushechka, Mr. Krasotkin has come to see you ...”

But Krasotkin, having given him a quick handshake, at once also displayed his extraordinary knowledge of social propriety. Immediately and before anything else, he addressed the captain’s wife, sitting in her chair (who just at that moment was terribly displeased and was grumbling because the boys were standing in front of Ilyusha’s bed and would not let her look at the new dog), and with extraordinary courtesy bent before her, and then, turning to Ninochka, gave her, as a lady, the same sort of bow. This courteous behavior made a remarkably pleasing impression on the sick lady.

“One can always tell at once a well-bred young man,” she spoke loudly, spreading her arms, “not like our other visitors: they come riding in on each other.”

“How do you mean, mama, how do they come riding in on each other?” the captain murmured, tenderly but still a little apprehensive about “mama.”

“They just ride right in. One sits on another’s shoulders in the entryway, and they come riding in like that, to see respectable people. What sort of visitor is that?”

“But who, who came in like that, mama, who was it?”

“This boy came riding in on that boy today, and this one on that one...”

But Kolya was already standing by Ilyusha’s little bed. The sick boy turned visibly pale. He rose on his bed and looked very, very attentively at Kolya. It was two months since Kolya had seen his former little friend, and he suddenly stopped before him, completely struck: he could not even have imagined seeing such a thin and yellow little face, such eyes, which burned with fever and seemed to have become terribly big, such thin arms. With sorrowful surprise he noticed how heavily and rapidly Ilyusha breathed, how dry his lips were. He took a step towards him, gave him his hand, and, almost completely at a loss, said:

“Well, so, old man ... how are you?”

But his voice broke, he could not muster enough nonchalance, his face somehow suddenly twitched, and something trembled around his lips. Ilyusha kept smiling wanly, still unable to say a word. Kolya suddenly reached out and for some reason stroked Ilyusha’s hair with his hand.

“Never mind!” he murmured softly to him, perhaps to encourage him, or else not knowing himself why he said it. They were silent for another minute.

“What’s this, a new puppy?” Kolya suddenly asked, in a most unfeeling voice.

“Ye-e-es!” Ilyusha answered in a long whisper, breathlessly.

“A black nose means he’s a fierce sort, a watchdog,” Kolya observed imposingly and firmly, as if everything had to do precisely with the puppy and its black nose. But the main thing was that he was still trying with all his might to overcome the emotion he felt and not to start crying like a “little boy,” and still could not overcome it. “When he grows up, you’ll have to keep him on a chain, I can tell you that.”

“He’ll be huge!” one boy in the group exclaimed.

“He sure will, he’s a mastiff, huge, like this, big as a calf,” several voices were suddenly heard.

“Big as a calf, a real calf,” the captain jumped over to them. “I picked one like that on purpose, the fiercest, and his parents are huge, too, and really fierce, this high off the ground ... Sit down, sir, here on Ilyusha’s bed, or else on the bench here. Welcome, our dear guest, our long-awaited guest ... Did you come with Alexei Fyodorovich, sir?”

Krasotkin sat down on the bed at Ilyusha’s feet. Though he had perhaps prepared a way of casually beginning the conversation while coming there, he had now decidedly lost the thread.

“No ... I came with Perezvon ... I have a dog now, named Perezvon. A Slavic name. He’s waiting outside ... A whistle from me, and he’ll come flying in. I came with a dog, too,” he suddenly turned to Ilyusha. “Do you remember Zhuchka, old man?” he suddenly hit him with the question.

Ilyushechka’s face twisted. He looked with suffering at Kolya. Alyosha, who was standing by the door, frowned and shook his head at Kolya on the sly that he should not begin talking about Zhuchka, but he either did not notice or did not want to notice.

“Where is ... Zhuchka?” Ilyusha asked in a strained voice.

“Well, brother, your Zhuchka—whe-ew! Your Zhuchka’s a goner!”

Ilyusha said nothing, but once more looked very, very attentively at Kolya. Alyosha, catching Kolya’s eye, again shook his head as hard as he could, but again Kolya looked away and pretended not to notice.

“She ran off somewhere and died. How could she not, after such an appetizer,” Kolya slashed mercilessly, at the same time becoming breathless himself for some reason. “But I’ve got Perezvon instead ... A Slavic name ... I’ve brought him for you ...”

“Don’t!” Ilyushechka suddenly said.

“No, no, I will, you must see ... It will amuse you. I brought him on purpose ... he’s as shaggy as she was ... Will you permit me, madame, to call my dog here?” he suddenly addressed Mrs. Snegiryov, now quite inconceivably excited.

“Don’t, don’t!” exclaimed Ilyusha, with a rueful strain in his voice. His eyes burned with reproach.

“Perhaps, sir,” the captain suddenly darted up from the chest by the wall, where he had just sat down, “perhaps, sir ... some other time, sir ... ,”he prattled, but Kolya, persisting unrestrainably and in haste, suddenly shouted to Smurov: “Smurov, open the door!” and the moment Smurov opened it, he blew his whistle. Perezvon dashed headlong into the room.

“Up, Perezvon, on your hind legs! On your hind legs!” Kolya shouted, jumping from his seat, and the dog, getting on its hind legs, stood straight up right in front of Ilyusha’s bed. Something took place that no one expected: Ilyusha started, and suddenly made a great lunge forward, bent down to Perezvon, and, as if frozen, looked at him.

“It’s ... Zhuchka!” he cried out suddenly, his voice cracked with suffering and happiness.

“Who else did you think it was?” Krasotkin shouted with all his might, in a ringing, happy voice, and bending down to the dog, he seized him and lifted him up to Ilyusha.

“Look, old man, you see, he’s lost one eye, and there’s a little nick on his left ear, exactly the marks you described to me. I found him by those marks! I found him right then, very quickly. He didn’t belong to anybody, he didn’t belong to anybody!” he explained, quickly turning to the captain, to his wife, to Alyosha, and then back to Ilyusha. “He lived in the Fedotovs’ backyard, made his home there, but they didn’t feed him, he’s a runaway, he ran away from some village ... So I found him ... You see, old man, it means he didn’t swallow your piece of bread that time. If he had, he’d surely have died, surely! It means he managed to spit it out, since he’s alive now. And you didn’t even notice him spit it out. He spat it out, but it still pricked his tongue, that’s why he squealed then. He was running and squealing, and you thought he’d swallowed it completely. He must really have squealed, because dogs have very tender skin in their mouths ... more tender than a man’s, much more tender!” Kolya exclaimed frenziedly, his face flushed and beaming with rapture.

And Ilyusha could not even speak. White as a sheet, he stared open-mouthed at Kolya, his big eyes somehow bulging terribly. And if the unsuspecting Krasotkin had only known what a tormenting and killing effect such a moment could have on the sick boy’s health, he would never have dared pull such a trick as he just had. But perhaps the only one in the room who did realize it was Alyosha. As for the captain, he seemed to have turned into a very little boy.

“Zhuchka! So it’s Zhuchka?” he kept crying out in a blissful voice. “Ilyushechka, it’s Zhuchka, your Zhuchka! Mama, it’s Zhuchka!” he all but wept.

“And I never guessed!” Smurov exclaimed ruefully. “That’s Krasotkin! I said he’d find Zhuchka, and he did find her!”

“He did find her!” someone else joyfully echoed.

“Bravo, Krasotkin!” a third voice rang out.

“Bravo, bravo!” the boys all cried and began to applaud.

“But wait, wait,” Krasotkin made an effort to outshout them all, “let me tell you how it happened, what counts is how it happened, not anything else! Because I found him, dragged him home and hid him immediately, and locked up the house, and I didn’t show him to anyone till the very last day. Only Smurov found out two weeks ago, but I assured him it was Perezvon and he never suspected, and in the meantime I taught Zhuchka all kinds of clever things, you should see, you should just see what tricks he can do! I taught him so as to bring him to you, old man, already sleek and well-trained, and say: here, old man, look at your Zhuchka now! If you’ve got a little piece of beef, he’ll show you a trick now that will make you fall down laughing—beef, a little piece, have you got any?”

The captain dashed impetuously across the hall to the landlady’s room, where his food was also prepared. And Kolya, not to lose precious time, in a desperate hurry, cried “Play dead!” to Perezvon. Perezvon suddenly spun around, lay on his back, and stayed stock still with all four legs in the air. The boys all laughed, Ilyusha watched with the same suffering smile, but “mama” liked the way Perezvon died more than anyone. She burst out laughing at the dog and began snapping her fingers and calling:

“Perezvon, Perezvon!”

“He won’t get up, not for anything, not for anything,” Kolya shouted, triumphant and justly proud. “The whole world can shout all it wants, but if I shout, he’ll jump up at once! Ici, Perezvon!”

The dog jumped up and began leaping and squealing with joy. The captain ran in with a piece of boiled beef.

“It’s not hot, is it?” Kolya inquired hastily, in a businesslike manner, taking the piece. “No, it’s not—because dogs don’t like hot things. Look, everyone, Ilyushechka, look, come on, look, look, old man, why aren’t you looking? I brought him, and he doesn’t look!”

The new trick consisted in getting the dog to stand motionlessly with his nose held out, and putting the tasty piece of beef right on the tip of it. The unfortunate dog had to stand without moving, with the meat on his nose, for as long as the master ordered, not moving, not budging, even for half an hour. But Perezvon was kept only for a brief moment.

“Fetch!” cried Kolya, and in a second the piece flew from Perezvon’s nose into his mouth. The audience, naturally, expressed rapturous amazement.

“And can it be, can it be that you refused to come all this time only in order to train the dog!” Alyosha exclaimed with involuntary reproach.

“That’s precisely the reason,” Kolya shouted in the most naive way. “I wanted to show him in all his glory!”

“Perezvon! Perezvon!” Ilyusha suddenly began snapping his thin fingers, calling the dog.

“What do you want? Let him jump up on the bed himself. Ici, Perezvon!” Kolya patted the bed, and Perezvon flew like an arrow up to Ilyusha. The boy impetuously hugged his head with both arms, and in return Perezvon immediately gave him a lick on the cheek. Ilyusha pressed himself to the dog, stretched out on his bed, and hid his face from them all in its shaggy fur.

“Lord, Lord!” the captain kept exclaiming.

Kolya sat down again on Ilyusha’s bed.

“Ilyusha, there’s something else I can show you. I’ve brought you a little cannon. Remember, I told you one time about this cannon, and you said: ‘Ah, I wish I could see it! ‘ So, now I’ve brought it.”

And Kolya hurriedly pulled the little bronze cannon out of his bag. He was hurrying because he himself was very happy: another time he would have waited until the effect produced by Perezvon had worn off, but now he hastened on, heedless of all self-control: “You’re already happy as it is, well, here’s some more happiness for you!” He himself was in complete ecstasy.

“I spotted this thing for you long ago at the official Morozov’s—for you, old man, for you. It was just sitting there uselessly, he got it from his brother, so I traded him a book for it, A Kinsman of Mahomet, or Healing Folly,^[279] that was in my papa’s bookcase. It’s a dirty book, published in Moscow a hundred years ago, even before there was any censorship, and just the sort of thing Morozov loves. He even thanked me...”

Kolya held the cannon up in his hand before them all, so that they could all see and delight in it. Ilyusha rose a little, and, still hugging Perezvon with his right arm, studied the toy with admiration. The effect reached its peak when Kolya announced that he had powder as well, and that it would be possible to fire the cannon right then, “if it wouldn’t be too upsetting for the ladies.” “Mama” immediately asked to have a closer look at the cannon, which was granted at once. She liked the little bronze cannon on wheels terribly much and began rolling it across her knees. To the request for permission to fire it, she responded with full consent, having no notion, however, of what she had been asked. Kolya produced the powder and the shot. The captain, as a former military man, saw to the loading himself, poured in a very small quantity of powder, and asked to save the shot for some other time. The cannon was put on the floor, the barrel aimed into empty space, three grains of powder were squeezed into the touch-hole, and it was set off with a match. There was a most spectacular bang. Mama jumped at first, but immediately laughed with joy. The boys gazed in speechless triumph, but most blissfully happy was the captain as he looked at Ilyusha. Kolya took the little cannon and at once presented it to Ilyusha, together with the powder and shot.

“It’s for you, for you! I got it for you long ago,” he repeated once more, in the fullness of happiness. “Ah, give it to me! No, you’d better give the little cannon to me!” mama suddenly began begging like a little girl. Her face wore an expression of sad anxiety for fear they would not give it to her. Kolya was embarrassed. The captain became anxiously worried.

“Mama, mama!” he jumped over to her, “the cannon is yours, yours, but let Ilyusha keep it, because it’s his present, but it’s the same as if it was yours, Ilyushechka will always let you play with it, it can belong to both of you, both...”

“No, I don’t want it to be both of ours, no, I want it to be just mine and not Ilyusha’s,” mama went on, getting ready to cry in earnest.

“Take it, mama, here, take it!” Ilyusha suddenly cried. “Krasotkin, may I give it to mama?” he suddenly turned to Krasotkin with a pleading look, as if he were afraid Krasotkin might be offended if he gave his present to someone else.

“Perfectly possible!” Krasotkin agreed at once, and, taking the little cannon from Ilyusha, he himself handed it to mama with a most polite bow. She even burst into tears, she was so moved.

“Ilyushechka, dear, he loves his dear mama!” she exclaimed tenderly, and immediately began rolling the cannon across her knees again.

“Mama, let me kiss your hand,” her husband jumped close to her and at once carried out his intention.

“And if anyone is the nicest young man of all, it’s this kind boy!” the grateful lady said, pointing to Krasotkin.

“And I’ll bring you as much powder as you want, Ilyusha. We make our own powder now. Borovikov found out the ingredients: twenty-four parts saltpeter, ten parts sulphur, and six of birch charcoal; grind it all together, add some water, mix it into a paste, and rub it through a sieve—and you’ve got powder.”

“Smurov already told me about your powder, only papa says it’s not real powder,” Ilyusha replied.

“What do you mean, not real?” Kolya blushed. “It burns all right. However, I don’t know ...”

“No, sir, it’s nothing, sir,” the captain suddenly jumped over to them with a guilty look. “I did say that real powder is not made like that, but it’s nothing, you can do it like that, sir.”

“I don’t know, you know better. We burned it in a stone pomade jar, it burned well, it all burned away, there was only a little soot left. And that was just the paste, but if you rub it through a sieve ... However, you know better, I don’t know ... And Bulkin got a whipping from his father because of our powder, did you hear?” he suddenly addressed Ilyusha. “I did,” Ilyusha replied. He was listening to Kolya with infinite curiosity and delight.

“We made a whole bottle of powder, he kept it under his bed. His father saw it. It might explode, he said. And he whipped him right then and there. He wanted to make a complaint about me to the school. Now they won’t let him have anything to do with me, no one is allowed to have anything to do with me now. Smurov isn’t allowed either, I’ve become notorious with everybody; they say I’m a ‘desperado,’ “ Kolya grinned scornfully. “It all started with the railway.”

“Ah, we’ve also heard about that exploit of yours!” exclaimed the captain. “How did you manage to lie there through it? And can it be that you weren’t afraid at all while you were lying under the train? Weren’t you scared, sir?”

The captain was fawning terribly on Kolya.

“N-not particularly!” Kolya replied nonchalantly. “What really botched my reputation around here was that cursed goose,” he again turned to Ilyusha. But though he put on a nonchalant air while he was talking, he still could not control himself and was continually thrown off pitch, as it were.

“Ah, I’ve heard about the goose, too!” Ilyusha laughed, beaming all over. “They told me about it, but I didn’t understand, did they really take you in front of the judge?”

“It was the most brainless, the most insignificant thing, from which, as usual here, they concocted a whole mountain,” Kolya began casually. “I was going across the market square one day, and they’d just driven in some geese. I stopped and looked at the geese. Suddenly a local fellow, Vishnyakov, he’s working as an errand boy for Plotnikov’s now, looked at me and said. ‘What are you looking at the geese for?’ I looked at him: the fellow was no more than twenty, a stupid, round mug, I never reject the people, you know. I like to be with the people ... We lag behind the people—that is an axiom—you seem to be laughing, Karamazov?”

“No, God forbid, I’m listening carefully,” Alyosha replied with a most guileless look, and the insecure Kolya was immediately reassured.

“My theory, Karamazov, is clear and simple,” he at once hurried joyfully on again, “I believe in the people and am always glad to do them justice, but I’m by no means for spoiling them, that is a sine qua ... Yes, about the goose. So I turned to the fool and answered him: I’m thinking about what the goose might be thinking about. ‘ He gave me a completely stupid look: And what,’ he said, ‘is the goose thinking about?’ ‘Do you see that cart full of oats?’ I said. ‘The oats are spilling from the sack, and the goose has stretched his neck out right under the wheel and is pecking up the grains—do you see?’ ‘I see all right,’ he said. ‘Well,’ I said, if the cart rolled forward a bit now —would it break the goose’s neck or not?’ ‘Sure it would,’ he said, and he was already grinning from ear to ear, he was melting all over. ‘So let’s do it, man, come on.’ ‘Yeah, let’s do it,’ he said. And it was easy enough to set up: he stood near the bridle on the sly, and I stood beside the cart to direct the goose. And the peasant got distracted just then, he was talking with someone, so that I didn’t even have to direct: the goose stretched his neck out to get the oats, under the cart, right under the wheel. I winked at the fellow, he gave a tug, and—cr-r-ack, the wheel rolled right across the middle of the goose’s neck. But it just so happened that at that very second all the peasants saw us, and they all started squawking at once: ‘You did it on purpose!”No, I didn’t. ‘ ‘Yes, you did! ‘ Then they squawked: ‘To the justice of the peace with him!’ They took me along, too: ‘You were there, you helped him, the whole marketplace knows you!’ And indeed, for some reason the whole marketplace does know me,” Kolya added vainly. “We all went to the justice of the peace, and they brought the goose along, too. I could see that my fellow was afraid; he started howling, really, howling like a woman. And the poultryman was shouting: ‘You could run over all the geese in the market that way! ‘ Well, of course there were witnesses. The justice wrapped it up in no time: the poultryman got a rouble for the goose, and the fellow got the goose. And he was never to allow himself such jokes in the future. And the fellow kept howling like a woman: It wasn’t me, he made me do it,’ and he pointed at me. I answered with complete equanimity that I had by no means made him do it, that I had merely stated the basic idea and was speaking only hypothetically. Judge Nefedov chuckled, and was immediately angry with himself for having chuckled: ‘I shall send a report to your authorities at once,’ he said to me, ‘so that in future you will not fall into such hypotheses instead of sitting over your books and learning your lessons.’ He didn’t report to the authorities, it was a joke, but the thing got around and reached the ears of the authorities anyway, we have long ears here! The classics teacher, Kolbasnikov, was particularly incensed, but Dardanelov stood up for me again. And Kolbasnikov is mad at everybody now, like a green ass. You must have heard he got married, Ilyusha, picked up a thousand roubles in dowry from the Mikhailovs, and the bride is a real eyesore, first-rate and to the last degree. The boys in the third class immediately wrote an epigram:

The class was astonished to discover The slob Kolbasnikov is a lover.

And so on, very funny, I’ll bring it to you later. I will say nothing about Dardanelov: he’s a man of learning, decidedly a man of learning. I respect his kind, and not at all because he stood up for me . . .” “But you still showed him up over who founded Troy!” Smurov suddenly interjected, being decidedly proud of Krasotkin at the moment. He liked the story about the goose very much.

“Did you really show him up?” the captain joined in fawningly. “Over who founded Troy, sir? We heard about that, that you showed him up. Ilyushechka told me right then, sir...”

“He knows everything, papa, better than any of us!” Ilyushechka also joined in. “He only pretends to be like that, but he’s the first student in every subject ...”

Ilyusha looked at Kolya with boundless happiness.

“Well, it’s all nonsense about Troy, trifles. I myself consider it an idle question,” Kolya responded with prideful modesty. He was now perfectly on pitch, though he was still somewhat worried: he felt that he was overly excited, and that he had told about the goose, for example, too openheartedly, while Alyosha had kept silent all through the story and looked serious, so that it gradually began to rankle the vain boy: “Is he silent because he despises me, thinking that I’m seeking his praise? If so, if he dares to think so, then I...”

“I consider it decidedly an idle question,” he proudly broke off once again.

“I know who founded Troy,” one boy suddenly spoke quite unexpectedly. He had said almost nothing till then, was silent and obviously shy, a very pretty-looking boy, about eleven years old, by the name of Kartashov. He was sitting just next to the door. Kolya gave him a surprised and imposing look. The thing was that the question of who precisely founded Troy had decidedly become a great secret in all the classes, and in order to penetrate it one had to read Smaragdov. But no one except Kolya had a copy of Smaragdov. And so one day when Kolya’s back was turned, the boy Kartashov had quickly and slyly opened Smaragdov, which lay among Kolya’s books, and lighted just on the passage discussing the founders of Troy. That had been some time ago, but he was somehow embarrassed and could not bring himself to reveal publicly that he, too, knew who had founded Troy, for fear something might come of it and Kolya might somehow confound him. But now, suddenly, for some reason he could not refrain from saying it. He had been wanting to for a long time.

“Well, who did?” Kolya turned to him arrogantly and condescendingly, having already seen from the boy’s face that he indeed did know, and, of course, preparing himself at once for all the consequences. What is known as a dissonance came into the general mood.

“Troy was founded by Teucer, Dardanus, Ilius, and Tros,” the boy rapped out at once, and instantly blushed all over, blushed so much that it was pitiful to see. But all the boys stared fixedly at him, stared for a whole minute, and then suddenly all those staring eyes turned at once to Kolya. He stood looking the bold boy up and down with disdainful equanimity.

“And in what sense did they found it?” he deigned at last to speak. “What generally is meant by the founding of a city or a state? Did each of them come and lay a brick, or what?”

There was laughter. The guilty boy turned from pink to crimson. He was silent, he was on the verge of tears. Kolya kept him like that for another minute.

“If one is to speak of such historical events as the founding of a nation, one must first know what it means,” he uttered distinctly, severely, by way of admonition. “I, in any case, do not regard these old wives’ tales as important, and generally I do not have much respect for world history,” he suddenly added nonchalantly, now addressing everyone present.

“World history, sir? “ the captain inquired suddenly with some sort of fear.

“Yes, world history. It is the study of the succession of human follies, and nothing more. I only respect mathematics and natural science,” Kolya swaggered, and glanced at Alyosha: his was the only opinion in the room that he feared. But Alyosha was still as silent and serious as before. If Alyosha had said anything now, the matter would have ended there, but Alyosha did not respond, and “his silence could well be contemptuous,” and at that Kolya became quite vexed.

“And also these classical languages we have now: simply madness, nothing more ... Again you seem to disagree with me, Karamazov?”

“I disagree,” Alyosha smiled restrainedly.

“Classical languages, if you want my full opinion about them—it’s a police measure, that’s the sole purpose for introducing them,” again Kolya gradually became breathless, “they were introduced because they’re boring, and because they dull one’s faculties. It was boring already, so how to make it even more boring? It was muddled already, so how to make it even more muddled? And so they thought up the classical languages. That is my full opinion of them, and I hope I shall never change it,” Kolya ended sharply. Flushed spots appeared on both his cheeks.

“That’s true,” Smurov, who had been listening diligently, suddenly agreed in a ringing and convinced voice.

“And he’s first in Latin himself!” one boy in the crowd cried.

“Yes, papa, he says that, and he’s first in the class in Latin,” Ilyusha echoed.

“What of it?” Kolya found it necessary to defend himself, though the praise also pleased him very much. “I grind away at Latin because I have to, because I promised my mother I’d finish school, and I think that whatever one does one ought to do well, but in my soul I deeply despise classicism and all that baseness ... You don’t agree, Karamazov?”

“Why ‘baseness’?” Alyosha smiled again.

“But, good heavens, the classics have been translated into all languages, therefore there was absolutely no need for Latin in order to study the classics, they needed it only as a police measure and to dull one’s faculties. Wouldn’t you call that baseness?”

“But who taught you all that?” exclaimed Alyosha, at last surprised.^[280]

“First of all, I myself am capable of understanding without being taught, and second, let me inform you that the very thing I just explained about the classics being translated, our teacher, Kolbasnikov, said himself to the whole third class ...”

“The doctor has come!” Ninochka, who had been silent all the while, suddenly exclaimed.

Indeed, a carriage belonging to Madame Khokhlakov drove up to the gates of the house. The captain, who had been expecting the doctor all morning, madly rushed out to meet him. Mama pulled herself together and assumed an important air. Alyosha went over to Ilyusha and began straightening his pillow. Ninochka anxiously watched from her armchair as he straightened the little bed. The boys began saying good-bye hastily, some of them promised to stop by in the evening. Kolya called Perezvon, and he jumped down from the bed.

“I’m not leaving, I’m not,” Kolya said hurriedly to Ilyusha, “I’ll wait in the entryway and come back when the doctor leaves, I’ll bring Perezvon back.”

But the doctor was already coming in—an imposing figure in a bearskin coat, with long, dark side-whiskers and a gleamingly shaven chin. Having stepped across the threshold, he suddenly stopped as if taken aback: he must have thought he had come to the wrong place. “What’s this? Where am I?” he muttered, without doffing his fur coat or his sealskin hat with its sealskin visor. The crowd, the poverty of the room, the laundry hanging on a line in the corner bewildered him. The captain bent double before him.

“It’s here you were coming, sir, it’s here, sir,” he kept muttering servilely, “you’ve come here, sir, to my place, come to my place, sir...”

“Sne-gi-ryov?” the doctor pronounced loudly and importantly. “Mr. Snegiryov—is that you?”

“It’s me, sir.”

“Ah!”

The doctor once again looked squeamishly around the room and threw off his fur coat. An important decoration hanging on his neck flashed in everyone’s eyes. The captain caught the coat in midair, and the doctor took off his hat.

“Where is the patient?” he asked loudly and emphatically.

Chapter 6: Precocity

“What do you think the doctor will say to him? “ Kolya rattled out. “What a disgusting mug, by the way, don’t you agree? I can’t stand medicine!”

“Ilyusha will die. That seems certain to me now,” Alyosha replied sadly.

“Swindlers! Medicine is a swindle! I’m glad, however, to have met you, Karamazov. I’ve long wanted to meet you. Only it’s too bad we’ve met so sadly ...”

Kolya would have liked very much to say something even more ardent, more expansive, but something seemed to cramp him. Alyosha noticed it, smiled, and pressed his hand.

“I’ve long learned to respect the rare person in you,” Kolya muttered again, faltering and becoming confused. “I’ve heard you are a mystic and were in the monastery. I know you are a mystic, but ... that didn’t stop me. The touch of reality will cure you ... With natures like yours, it can’t be otherwise.”

“What do you mean by ‘a mystic’? Cure me of what?” Alyosha was a little surprised.

“Well, God and all that.”

“What, don’t you believe in God?”

“On the contrary, I have nothing against God. Of course God is only a hypothesis ... but ... I admit, he is necessary, for the sake of order ... for the order of the world and so on ... and if there were no God, he would have to be invented,”^[281] Kolya added, beginning to blush. He suddenly fancied that Alyosha might be thinking he wanted to show off his knowledge and prove how “adult” he was. “And I don’t want to show off my knowledge at all,” Kolya thought indignantly. And he suddenly became quite vexed.

“I’ll admit, I can’t stand entering into all these debates,” he snapped. “It’s possible to love mankind even without believing in God, don’t you think? Voltaire did not believe in God, but he loved mankind, didn’t he?” (“Again, again!” he thought to himself.)

“Voltaire believed in God, but very little, it seems, and it seems he also loved mankind very little,” Alyosha said softly, restrainedly, and quite naturally, as if he were talking to someone of the same age or even older than himself. Kolya was struck precisely by Alyosha’s uncertainty, as it were, in his opinion of Voltaire, and that he seemed to leave it precisely up to him, little Kolya, to resolve the question.

“So you’ve read Voltaire?” Alyosha concluded.

“No, I can’t say I’ve read him ... I’ve read Candide,^[282] though, in a Russian translation ... an old, clumsy translation, very funny . . .”(“Again, again!”)

“And did you understand it?”

“Oh, yes, everything ... I mean ... why do you think I wouldn’t understand it? Of course there are lots of salacious things in it ... But of course I’m capable of understanding that it’s a philosophical novel, written in order to put forward an idea ... ,” Kolya was now completely muddled. “I’m a socialist, Karamazov, I am an incorrigible socialist,” he suddenly broke off for no reason at all.

“A socialist?” Alyosha laughed. “But how have you had time? You’re still only thirteen, I think?”

Kolya cringed.

“First of all, I’m fourteen, not thirteen, fourteen in two weeks,” he flushed deeply, “and second, I absolutely do not understand what my age has to do with it. The point is what my convictions are, not how old I am, isn’t it?”

“When you’re older, you will see yourself what significance age has upon convictions. It also occurred to me that you were using words that weren’t yours,” Alyosha replied calmly and modestly, but Kolya hotly interrupted him.

“For God’s sake, you want obedience and mysticism. You must agree, for instance, that the Christian faith has only served the rich and noble, so as to keep the lower classes in slavery, isn’t that so?”

“Ah, I know where you read that, and I knew someone must have been teaching you!” Alyosha exclaimed.

“For God’s sake, why must have I read it? And no one has taught me at all. I myself am capable ... And, if you like, I’m not against Christ. He was a very humane person, and if he was living in our time, he would go straight to join the revolutionaries, and perhaps would play a conspicuous part ... It’s even certain he would.”

“But where, where did you get all that? What kind of fool have you been dealing with?” Alyosha exclaimed.

“For God’s sake, the truth can’t be hidden! Of course, I often talk with Mr. Rakitin about a certain matter, but ... Old Belinsky used to say the same thing, they say.”

“Belinsky? I don’t remember. He never wrote it anywhere.” “Maybe he didn’t write it, but they say he said it. I heard it from a certain ... ah, the devil...!”

“And have you read Belinsky?”

“In fact ... no ... I haven’t exactly read him, but ... the part about Tatiana, why she didn’t go with Onegin, I did read.”^[283]

“What? Why she didn’t go with Onegin? Can it be that you already . . understand that?”

“For God’s sake, you seem to take me for the boy Smurov,” Kolya grinned irritably. “By the way, please don’t think I’m such a revolutionary. I quite often disagree with Mr. Rakitin. If I speak about Tatiana, it’s not at all to say that I’m for women’s emancipation. I acknowledge that woman is a subordinate creature and must obey. Les femmes tricottent,^[284] as Napoleon said,” Kolya smirked for some reason, “and at least here I fully share the conviction of that pseudo great man. I also think, for example, that to flee the fatherland for America is a base thing, worse than base—it’s foolish. Why go to America, if one can also be of much use to mankind here? Precisely now. There’s a whole mass of fruitful activity. That was my answer.”

“Answer? Who did you answer? Has someone already invited you to America?”

“I must admit they were urging me, but I declined. Naturally that’s between us, Karamazov, not a word to anyone, do you hear? It’s only for you. I have no desire to fall into the kindly clutches of the Third Department and take lessons at the Chain Bridge.

You will never forget

The house near the Chain Bridge!

Do you remember? Splendid! What are you laughing at? Do you think it’s all lies?” (“And what if he finds out that there’s only that one issue of The Bell in my father’s bookcase, and that I never read any more than that?” Kolya thought fleetingly, but with a shudder.)^[285]

“Oh, no, I’m not laughing, and I don’t at all think you’ve been lying to me. That’s just it, I don’t think so because all of that, alas, is quite true! Well, and Pushkin, tell me, have you read him, have you read Onegin ... ? You just mentioned Tatiana.”

“No, I haven’t read it, but I intend to. I have no prejudices, Karamazov. I want to hear both sides. Why do you ask?”

“I just wondered.”

“Tell me, Karamazov, do you despise me terribly?” Kolya suddenly blurted out, and he drew himself up straight before Alyosha, as if positioning himself. “Kindly tell me, without beating around the bush.”

“I despise you?” Alyosha looked at him with surprise. “But what for? I’m only sad that such a lovely nature as yours, which has not yet begun to live, should already be perverted by all this crude nonsense.”

“Don’t worry about my nature,” Kolya interrupted, not without some smugness, “but it’s true that I’m insecure. Stupidly insecure, crudely insecure. You just smiled, and I thought you seemed to...”

“Ah, I smiled at something quite different. You see, what I smiled at was this: I recently read a comment by a foreigner, a German, who used to live in Russia, about our young students these days. ‘Show a Russian schoolboy a chart of the heavens,’ he writes, ‘of which hitherto he had no idea at all, and the next day he will return the chart to you with corrections.’ No knowledge and boundless conceit—that’s what the German meant to say about the Russian schoolboy.”

“Ah, but he’s absolutely right!” Krasotkin suddenly burst out laughing. “Verissimo, exactly! Bravo, German! However, the Kraut didn’t look at the good side, what do you think? Conceit—so be it, it comes from youth, it will correct itself, if there’s any need for correction, but, on the other hand, an independent spirit, almost from childhood, a boldness of thought and conviction, and not the spirit of those sausage-makers groveling before the authorities ... But still, the German put it well! Bravo, German! Though the Germans still ought to be strangled. They may be good at science there, but they still ought to be strangled ...”

“Strangled? Why?” Alyosha smiled.

“Well, maybe I was just mouthing off, I agree. Sometimes I’m a terrible child, and when I’m pleased about something, I can’t restrain myself, I’m ready to mouth all kinds of nonsense. Listen, though, here we are chatting about trifles, and that doctor seems to have got stuck in there for a long time. Though maybe he’s examining ‘mama’ too, and that crippled Ninochka. You know, I like that Ninochka. She suddenly whispered to me as I was going out: ‘Why didn’t you come before?’ And in such a voice, so reproachful! I think she’s terribly kind and pathetic.”

“Yes, yes! When you’ve come more often, you’ll see what sort of being she is. It’s very good for you to get to know such beings, in order to learn to value many other things besides, which you will learn precisely from knowing these beings,” Alyosha observed warmly. “That will remake you more than anything.”

“Oh, how sorry I am and how I scold myself for not coming sooner!” Kolya exclaimed with bitter feeling.

“Yes, it’s a great pity. You saw for yourself what a joyful impression you made on the poor child! And how he grieved as he waited for you!”

“Don’t tell me! You’re just rubbing it in! It serves me right, though: it was vanity that kept me from coming, egoistic vanity and base despotism, which I haven’t been able to get rid of all my life, though all my life I’ve been trying to break myself. I’m a scoundrel in many ways, Karamazov, I see it now!”

“No, you have a lovely nature, though it’s been perverted, and I fully understand how you could have such an influence on this noble and morbidly sensitive boy!” Alyosha replied ardently.

“And you say that to me!” Kolya cried, “and just imagine, I thought—several times already since I came here today—I thought you despised me! If only you knew how I value your opinion!”

“But can it be that you really are so insecure? At your age? Well, imagine, I was thinking just that, as I watched you telling stories there in the room, that you must be very insecure.”

“You thought that? What an eye you have, really, you see, you see! I bet it was when I was telling about the goose. Precisely at that moment I imagined you must deeply despise me for being in such a hurry to show what a fine fellow I was, and I even hated you for it and began talking drivel. Then I imagined (it was here, just now) when I was saying: ‘If there were no God, he would have to be invented,’ that I was in too great a hurry to show off my education, especially since I got the phrase out of a book. But I swear to you, I was in a hurry to show off, not out of vanity, but just, I don’t know, for the joy of it, by God, as if for the joy of it ... though it’s an extremely disgraceful quality in a man to go throwing himself on everyone’s neck out of joy. I know that. But now instead I’m convinced that you don’t despise me, that I invented it all myself. Oh, Karamazov, I’m profoundly unhappy. Sometimes I imagine God knows what, that everyone is laughing at me, the whole world, and then I ... then I’m quite ready to destroy the whole order of things.”

“And you torment the people around you,” Alyosha smiled.

“And I torment the people around me, especially my mother. Tell me, Karamazov, am I very ridiculous now?”

“But don’t think about it, don’t think about it at all!” Alyosha exclaimed. “And what does it mean—ridiculous? What does it matter how many times a man is or seems to be ridiculous? Besides, nowadays almost all capable people are terribly afraid of being ridiculous, and are miserable because of it. I’m only surprised that you’ve begun to feel it so early, though, by the way, I’ve been noticing it for a long time, and not in you alone. Nowadays even children almost are already beginning to suffer from it. It’s almost a madness. The devil has incarnated himself in this vanity and crept into a whole generation—precisely the devil,” Alyosha added, not smiling at all, as Kolya, who was looking at him intently, thought for a moment. “You are like everyone else,” Alyosha concluded, “that is, like a great many others, only you ought not to be like everyone else, that’s what.”

“Even if everyone is like that?” “Yes, even if everyone is like that. You be the only one who is not like that. And in fact you’re not like everyone else: you weren’t ashamed just now to confess bad and even ridiculous things about yourself. Who would confess such things nowadays? No one, and people have even stopped feeling any need for self-judgment. So do not be like everyone else; even if you are the only one left who is not like that, still do not be like that.”

“Splendid! I was not mistaken in you. You know how to give comfort. Oh, how I’ve yearned for you, Karamazov, how long I’ve been seeking to meet you! Can it be that you also thought about me? You said just now that you were thinking about me?”

“Yes, I had heard about you and also thought about you ... and if it’s partly vanity that makes you ask, it doesn’t matter.”

“You know, Karamazov, our talk is something like a declaration of love,” Kolya said in a sort of limp and bashful voice. “That’s not ridiculous, is it?”

“Not ridiculous at all, and even if it were ridiculous, it still wouldn’t matter, because it’s good,” Alyosha smiled brightly.

“And you know, Karamazov, you must admit that you yourself feel a little ashamed with me now ... I can see it in your eyes,” Kolya smiled somehow slyly, but also with almost a sort of happiness.

“Ashamed of what?”

“Why did you blush, then?”

“But it was you who made me blush!” Alyosha laughed, and indeed blushed all over. “Well, yes, a little ashamed, God knows why, I don’t know ... ,” he muttered, even almost embarrassed.

“Oh, how I love you and value you right now, precisely because you, too, are ashamed of something with me! Because you’re just like me!” Kolya exclaimed, decidedly in ecstasy. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes shining.

“Listen, Kolya, by the way, you are going to be a very unhappy man in your life,” Alyosha suddenly said for some reason.

“I know, I know. How do you know all that beforehand!” Kolya confirmed at once.

“But on the whole you will bless life all the same.”

“Precisely! Hurrah! You’re a prophet. Oh, we will become close, Karamazov. You know, what delights me most of all is that you treat me absolutely as an equal. And we’re not equal, no, not equal, you are higher! But we will become close. You know, all this past month I’ve been saying to myself: He and I will either become close friends at once and forever, or from the first we’ll part as mortal enemies! ‘“

“And surely you already loved me as you said it!” Alyosha was laughing happily. “I did, I loved you terribly, I loved you, and I was dreaming about you! But how do you know everything beforehand? Hah, here’s the doctor. Lord, what’s he going to say? Look at his face!”

Chapter 7: Ilyusha

The doctor was just coming out of the room, already wrapped up in his fur coat and with his hat on his head. His face was almost angry and squeamish, as if he were afraid of dirtying himself on something. He gave a cursory look around the entryway and glanced sternly at Alyosha and Kolya. Alyosha waved to the coachman from the doorway, and the carriage that had brought the doctor drove up to the front door. The captain rushed out after the doctor and, bending low, almost writhing before him, stopped him to get his final word. The poor man looked completely crushed, his eyes were frightened.

“Your Excellency, your Excellency ... can it be ... ?” he began, and could not finish, but simply clasped his hands in despair, though still making a last plea to the doctor with his eyes, as if a word from the doctor now might indeed change the poor boy’s sentence.

“What can I do? I am not God,” the doctor replied in a casual, though habitually imposing, voice.

“Doctor ... your Excellency ... and will it be soon, soon?”

“Be pre-pared for any-thing,” the doctor pronounced, emphasizing each syllable, and, lowering his eyes, he himself prepared to step across the threshold to the carriage.

“Your Excellency, for Christ’s sake!” the captain, frightened, stopped him again. “Your Excellency! ... isn’t there anything, can it be that nothing, nothing at all can save ... ?”

“It no longer de-pends on me,” the doctor spoke impatiently, “but, however, hmm,” he suddenly paused, “if you could, for example ... con-vey ... your patient ... at once and without the least delay”(the doctor uttered the words “at once and without the least delay” not so much sternly as almost angrily, so that the captain was even startled) “to Sy-ra-cuse, then ... as a result of the new, fa-vor-able cli-ma-tic conditions ... there might, perhaps, be...”

“To Syracuse!” the captain cried, as if he still understood nothing. “Syracuse—it’s in Sicily,” Kolya suddenly snapped loudly, by way of explanation. The doctor looked at him.

“To Sicily! Good Lord, your Excellency,” the captain was at a loss. “But haven’t you seen?” he pointed to his surroundings with both hands. “And mama, and the family?”

“N-no, the family should go, not to Sicily, but to the Caucasus, in early spring ... your daughter to the Caucasus, and your wife ... after a course of treatments with the waters—also in the Caucasus, in view of her rheumatism ... should immediately afterwards be con-veyed to Paris, to the clinic of the psy-chi-a-trist Le-pel-le-tier, I can give you a note to him, and then there might, perhaps, be...”

“Doctor, doctor! But don’t you see!” the captain again waved his hands, pointing in despair at the bare log walls of the entryway.

“Ah, that is not my business,” the doctor grinned, “I have merely said what sci-ence can say to your questions about last measures. As for the rest ... to my regret ...”

“Don’t worry, leech, my dog won’t bite you,” Kolya cut in abruptly, having noticed the doctor’s somewhat anxious look at Perezvon, who was standing in the doorway. An angry note rang in Kolya’s voice. And he used the word “leech” instead of “doctor” on purpose, as he declared afterwards, and “meant it as an insult.”

“What did you say?” the doctor threw back his head and stared at Kolya in surprise. “Who is this?” he suddenly turned to Alyosha, as if asking him for an explanation.

“This is Perezvon’s master, leech, don’t worry about my humble self,” Kolya snapped again.

“Swan?” the doctor repeated, not understanding what “Perezvon” meant.

“Yes, as in zvon-song. Good-bye, leech, see you in Syracuse.”

“Wh-ho is he? Who, who?” the doctor suddenly became terribly excited.

“A local schoolboy, doctor, he’s a prankster, don’t pay any attention to him,” Alyosha rattled out, frowning. “Kolya, be still!” he cried to Krasotkin. “Pay no attention to him, doctor,” he repeated, this time more impatiently.

“Whip-ped, he ought to be whip-ped!” the doctor, who for some reason was utterly infuriated, began stamping his feet.

“On the other hand, leech, my Perezvon may just bite!” Kolya said in a trembling voice, turning pale, his eyes flashing. “Ici, Perezvon!”

“Kolya, if you say another word, I’ll break with you forever,” Alyosha cried peremptorily.

“Leech, there is only one person in the whole world who can tell Nikolai Krasotkin what to do—this is the man,” Kolya pointed to Alyosha. “I obey him. Good-bye!”

He tore himself from his place, opened the door, and quickly went into the room. Perezvon dashed after him. The doctor stood stupefied, as it were, for another five seconds, looking at Alyosha, then suddenly spat and quickly went out to the carriage, repeating loudly: “This-s is, this-s is, this-s is ... I don’t know what this-s is!” The captain rushed to help him into the carriage. Alyosha followed Kolya into the room. He was already standing by Ilyusha’s bed. Ilyusha was holding him by the hand and calling his papa. In a moment the captain, too, returned.

“Papa, papa, come here ... we ... ,” Ilyusha prattled in great excitement, but, apparently unable to go on, suddenly thrust both his thin arms out and, as firmly as he could, embraced the two of them, Kolya and his papa, uniting them in one embrace and pressing himself to them. The captain suddenly began shaking all over with silent sobs, and Kolya’s lips and chin started trembling.

“Papa, papa! I’m so sorry for you, papa!” Ilyusha moaned bitterly.

“Ilyushechka ... darling ... the doctor said ... you’ll get well. . we’ll be happy ... the doctor ... ,” the captain started to say.

“Ah, papa! I know what the new doctor told you about me ... I could see!” Ilyusha exclaimed, and again firmly, with all his strength, he pressed them both to himself, hiding his face on his papa’s shoulder.

“Papa, don’t cry ... and when I die, you get some nice boy, another one ... choose from all of them, a nice one, call him Ilyusha, and love him instead of me...”

“Shut up, old man, you’ll get well!” Krasotkin suddenly shouted as if he were angry.

“And don’t ever forget me, papa,”Ilyusha went on,”visit my grave ... and one more thing, papa, you must bury me by the big stone where we used to go for our walks, and visit me there with Krasotkin, in the evenings ... And Perezvon ... And I’ll be waiting for you ... Papa, papa!”

His voice broke off. All three embraced one another and were silent now. Ninochka, too, wept quietly in her chair, and suddenly, seeing everyone crying, the mother also dissolved in tears.

“Ilyushechka! Ilyushechka!” she kept exclaiming.

Krasotkin suddenly freed himself from Ilyusha’s embrace.

“Good-bye, old man, my mother’s expecting me for dinner,” he spoke quickly. “Too bad I didn’t warn her! She’ll be really worried ... But after dinner I’ll come right back, for the whole day, for the whole evening, and I’ll tell you so many things, so many things! And I’ll bring Perezvon—I’ll have to take him with me now, because without me he’ll howl and bother you—goodbye!”

And he ran out to the entryway. He did not want to cry, but in the hall he started crying all the same. Alyosha found him in that state.

“Kolya, you absolutely must keep your word and come, otherwise he’ll grieve terribly,” Alyosha said emphatically.

“Absolutely! Oh, how I curse myself for not coming before,” Kolya muttered, crying and no longer embarrassed to be crying. At that moment the captain all but jumped out of the room and at once closed the door behind him. His face was frenzied, his lips trembled. He stood facing the two young men and threw up his arms.

“I don’t want a nice boy! I don’t want another boy!” he whispered in a wild whisper, clenching his teeth. “If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, let my tongue cleave . . .’”^[286]

He broke off as if he were choking, and sank helplessly on his knees in front of the wooden bench. Pressing his head with both fists, he began sobbing, shrieking somehow absurdly, restraining himself as much as he could, however, so that his shrieks would not be heard in the room. Kolya ran out to the street.

“Good-bye, Karamazov! And you, are you coming back?” he cried sharply and angrily to Alyosha.

“I’ll certainly come back in the evening.”

“What was that he said about Jerusalem ... ? What was it?”

“It’s from the Bible: ‘If I forget thee, O Jerusalem,’ meaning if I forget all that’s most precious tome, if I exchange it for anything, may I be struck...”

“Enough, I understand! So, make sure you come! Ici, Perezvon!” he shouted quite fiercely to the dog, and strode home with long, quick strides.