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And that actually took place on the evening of the day on which the terrible crime, which is the subject of the present investigation, was committed. You brought Alexey Karamazov to Madame Svyetlov, and did you receive the twenty-five roubles from Madame Svyetlov as a reward, that’s what I wanted to hear from you?”
What struck him most was that he treated him exactly like an equal and that he talked to him just as if he were “quite grown up.” “I’ll show you something directly, Karamazov; it’s a theatrical performance, too,” he said, laughing nervously. “That’s why I’ve come.” “Let us go first to the people of the house, on the left. All the boys leave their coats in there, because the room is small and hot.”
If Alyosha had said a word it would have stopped him, but Alyosha was silent and “it might be the silence of contempt,” and that finally irritated Kolya. “The classical languages, too ... they are simply madness, nothing more. You seem to disagree with me again, Karamazov?” “I don’t agree,” said Alyosha, with a faint smile.
It was said that Ippolit Kirillovitch was in a tremor at meeting Fetyukovitch, and that they had been enemies from the beginning of their careers in Petersburg, that though our sensitive prosecutor, who always considered that he had been aggrieved by some one in Petersburg because his talents had not been properly appreciated, was keenly excited over the Karamazov case, and was even dreaming of rebuilding his flagging fortunes by means of it, Fetyukovitch, they said, was his one anxiety.
TOLSTOI. War and Peace. Heinemann. 3s. 6d. net. Anna Karenin. Heinemann. 3s. 6d. net. The first of these is perhaps the finest treatment of war in modern literature, the subject being the Russian campaign of Napoleon in 1812. No other book gives one a better idea of the way the Russians make war and of the essential greatness of the Russian national spirit. DOSTOIEFFSKY. The Brothers Karamazov.
I only mention this to point out that any one may have money, and that it can’t be proved that these notes are the same as were in Fyodor Pavlovitch’s envelope. “Ivan Karamazov, after receiving yesterday a communication of such importance from the real murderer, did not stir. Why didn’t he report it at once? Why did he put it all off till morning? I think I have a right to conjecture why.
He left a note written in his peculiar language, ‘I destroy myself of my own will and inclination so as to throw no blame on any one.’ What would it have cost him to add: ‘I am the murderer, not Karamazov’? But that he did not add. Did his conscience lead him to suicide and not to avowing his guilt? “And what followed?
“Here he is, going to the dinner as though nothing had happened,” he thought. “A brazen face, and the conscience of a Karamazov!” Alyosha helped Father Zossima to his bedroom and seated him on his bed. It was a little room furnished with the bare necessities. There was a narrow iron bedstead, with a strip of felt for a mattress.
You’re a quiet one, Alyosha, you’re a saint, I know, but the devil only knows what you’ve thought about, and what you know already! You are pure, but you’ve been down into the depths.... I’ve been watching you a long time. You’re a Karamazov yourself; you’re a thorough Karamazov—no doubt birth and selection have something to answer for.
Now I think I’ve gone into everything.” “But I do condemn myself!” cried Mitya. “I shall escape, that was settled apart from you; could Mitya Karamazov do anything but run away? But I shall condemn myself, and I will pray for my sin for ever. That’s how the Jesuits talk, isn’t it? Just as we are doing?” “Yes.” Alyosha smiled gently.
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