The Brothers Karamazov (42 page)

“Did you really want to see me very much?”

“Very much. I wanted to get to know you properly and I wanted you to get to know me, and once that was done, for us to say good-by to each other. I think the best time to get to know people is just before parting from them. I noticed how you looked at me with a sort of expectation during these three months, and that was just why I didn’t make a move toward you—I couldn’t bear that expectant look of yours. But lately I’ve acquired considerable respect for you—‘This boy,’ I said to myself, ‘certainly has pretty definite views about life.’ Please understand—although I’m laughing now, I mean exactly what I say: you do have quite definite views about things, don’t you? I like people with such strong beliefs, even if they happen to be just young boys like you. So lately your expectant look has stopped repelling me; indeed, I’ve come to like it finally. I’m under the impression that you rather like me, don’t you, Alyosha?”

“I do, Ivan. Dmitry says you’re silent as the grave, but I say you’re an enigma. Even at this moment you’re an enigma to me, although I caught a glimpse of something in you just this morning.”

“What precisely did you see?” Ivan asked with a laugh.

“You’re sure you won’t be angry if I tell you?” Alyosha said, laughing too.

“Go ahead.”

“That you’re just a young man of twenty-three like any other, that you’re really a nice, very young, unspoiled . . . well, an inexperienced twenty-three-year-old. I hope I haven’t offended you, have I?”

“No, no, not in the least. In fact, this is a very strange coincidence!” Ivan said gaily and warmly. “Will you believe me if I tell you that, after I left you this morning, after that scene there, I was thinking to myself that, after all, I’m just a callow twenty-three-year-old, and you, you saw it right away and it’s from that that you start. I was sitting here, before you came, and do you know what I was thinking about? I was thinking that even if I believed that life was pointless, lost faith in the woman I loved, lost faith in the order of things, or even became convinced that I was surrounded by a disorderly, evil, perhaps devil-made chaos, even if I were completely overcome by the horrors of human despair—I would still want to live on; once I have started drinking from this cup, I won’t put it down until I have emptied it to the last drop. It’s quite possible, though, that by the time I’m thirty I will have tossed away the cup without really having finished it, and I will go off in who knows what direction. I know for sure that until then my youth will have overcome everything—every disappointment, every disgust caused by life. Many times I’ve asked myself whether there is anything in the world that could crush my frantic, indecent appetite for life, and have decided that it looks as though nothing of the sort exists. But, of course, that may be true only until I reach the age of thirty, for then I may lose interest in life altogether, at least so it seems to me. This appetite for life is often branded as despicable by various spluttering moralists and even more so by poets. It, of course, is the outstanding feature in us Karamazovs—and you, too, you have this inordinate appetite for life, I’m certain of it—but what is there so despicable about it? There’s still an enormous amount of centripetal force left in our planet, Alyosha, my boy, so I want to live and go on living, even if it’s contrary to the rules of logic. Even if I do not believe in the divine order of things, the sticky young leaves emerging from their buds in the spring are dear to my heart; so is the blue sky and so are some human beings, even though I often don’t know why I like them; I may still even admire an act of heroism with my whole heart, perhaps out of habit, although I may have long since stopped believing in heroism.

“Here’s your fish soup, Alyosha. They make a good fish soup here. Go ahead, eat it, enjoy it. You know, I’ve been wanting to go to Western Europe and that’s where I’ll go from here. Oh, I know that going there is like going to a graveyard, but it’s a glorious graveyard, I tell you! The dead who lie under the stones there are dear to me, and every gravestone speaks of their ardent lives, of human achievements, of their passionate faith in the purpose of life, the truth they believed in, the learning they defended—and I know in advance that I’ll prostrate myself and kiss those stones and shed tears on them, although the whole time I’ll be fully aware that it’s only a graveyard and nothing more. And I will not be weeping out of despair, but simply because I’ll be happy shedding those tears. I’ll get drunk on my own emotion. I love those sticky little leaves in the spring and the blue sky, that’s what! You don’t love those things with reason, with logic, you love them with your innards, with your belly, and that’s also how you love your own first youthful strength. Well, do you understand anything in all this ranting, Alyosha, my boy, or are you completely at a loss?” Ivan asked, suddenly beginning to laugh.

“I understand it only too well: it’s the innards and the belly that long to love. You put it wonderfully and I’m terribly glad that you have such an appetite for life!” Alyosha cried. “I’ve always thought that, before anything else, people should learn to love life in this world.”

“To love life more than the meaning of life?”

“Yes, that’s right. That’s the way it should be—love should come before logic, just as you said. Only then will man be able to understand the meaning of life. You know what I think, Ivan—half your work is already done; you love life. Now you must concentrate on the second half and you’ll be saved.”

“So you’re saving me already! Wait a bit, I don’t think I’m lost yet. But what does that second half involve?”

“Bringing back to life those dead of yours, who, perhaps, may never even have died. All right, pour me some tea now. I’m so glad we’re having this talk, Ivan.”

“I can see that you’re in a kind of ecstasy—I love such 
professions de foi
 from you novices. You’re a very determined man, Alexei. Is it a fact that you’re leaving the monastery?”

“Yes. My elder is sending me out into the world.”

“Well, then I suppose we shall meet again—in the world. Before I’m thirty, that is, when I begin tearing the cup from my lips . . . But our father has no wish to tear the cup from his lips. He plans to go on drinking from it until he’s seventy or even eighty; that’s what he says at least, and although he’s a buffoon otherwise, he sounds as if he meant it seriously. He’s planted himself on the pleasures of the flesh as if they were a solid rock. But then, once you’re over thirty, there doesn’t seem to be anything much else to stand on. Yet to carry on like that until seventy is disgusting. Until thirty, though, it’s all right. One can even retain an air of dignity by feigning high-mindedness . . . By the way, Alyosha, you haven’t seen Dmitry today, have you?”

“No, I haven’t . . . But I saw Smerdyakov.” And Alyosha told Ivan every detail of his meeting with Smerdyakov. A worried look suddenly appeared on Ivan’s face; he listened intently, even asking Alyosha to repeat certain things.

“But Smerdyakov asked me not to repeat what he’d told me to Dmitry,” Alyosha added.

Ivan frowned and grew very thoughtful.

“Are you frowning over Smerdyakov?” Alyosha asked him.

“Yes, it’s because of Smerdyakov—to hell with him! I really did want to see Dmitry, but now there’s no need anymore,” Ivan said reluctantly.

“Are you really leaving town very soon?”

“Yes.”

“But what about Dmitry and father? How will it end between them?” Alyosha asked in a worried voice.

“Ah, there you go again with that nonsense! Anyway, where do I come into it? I’m not my brother Dmitry’s keeper, you know,” Ivan snapped irritatedly, but then he suddenly smiled crookedly and added with bitterness: “Does that sound to you like Cain’s answer to God about his murdered brother? Isn’t that what you were thinking just this second? But what the hell, I really can’t stay here and be their keeper. I’ve completed my business here and I’m leaving. I hope you don’t imagine that I’m jealous of Dmitry and that during these three months I’ve been trying to take his beautiful Katerina away from him? Oh no, my boy, I had my own affairs to take care of, and now that I’ve dealt with them, I’m leaving. You were present when I finished with the last business that was holding me here, remember?”

“You mean with Katerina earlier today?”

“Right, I’ve finished with everything there. And now, why should I worry about what happens to Dmitry? That’s no concern of mine. I had my own accounts to settle with Katerina. Besides, you know very well that Dmitry behaved as if we’d planned it all secretly, the two of us. I never asked him for anything. It was on his own initiative that he solemnly handed her over to me and gave us his blessing. It is all ridiculous. Ah, Alyosha, I wish you knew how freely I can breathe now! You know, as I sat here eating my lunch, I thought of ordering champagne to celebrate my first hour of freedom. Ah, hell, after almost half a year, I’ve suddenly managed to throw it off! Why, even yesterday I never suspected that if we decided to put an end to it we could do so, just like that!”

“Are you talking about your love for her?”

“You can call it love if you want. Well, yes, I did fall in love with that educated young lady. I suffered because of her, and she did her best to torment me. I sat with her and brooded . . . But now it’s all evaporated! When we were there today, you know, I made those eloquent speeches, remember, but no sooner was I outside than I burst out laughing. Yes, laughing—I mean that exactly.”

“Even now you look so pleased when you say that,” Alyosha said, looking at his brother’s face, which had indeed taken on a relaxed, merry look.

“But how could I know that I didn’t really love her in the least? Ha-ha-ha! But that’s exactly how it turned out. I found her very attractive, even this morning when I was holding forth. As a matter of fact, I still feel attracted to her at this moment, very strongly, and yet it’s so easy for me to leave her for good. You don’t think this is just bravado on my part, do you?”

“No, but I think perhaps it wasn’t love that you felt for her.”

“For heaven’s sake, little Alyosha, don’t start making dissertations on love! It doesn’t become you very well,” Ivan said, laughing. “Ah, when I think how you came out with that opinion of yours! You were so sweet, I’d like to give you a big hug for it now! . . . But the fact is, she really did make me suffer. I was involved in a terrible mixture of twisted emotions and heartbreak. She certainly knew I loved her, and she loved me, not Dmitry,” Ivan said cheerfully, “but she needed Dmitry to provide her with a broken heart. Everything I told her today is absolutely true. But the trouble is, it may take her fifteen or even twenty years to find out for herself that she doesn’t really love Dmitry, that she loves only me, whom she torments. As a matter of fact, she may never understand it, despite the lecture I gave her today. Well, so much the better. As for me, I just got up and walked out on her once and for all. By the way, how is she now? What happened after I left?”

Alyosha told him about Katerina’s hysterics and that she had still been delirious when he had last heard.

“Mightn’t it be all Mrs. Khokhlakov’s invention?”

“I shouldn’t think so.”

“I suppose I ought to inquire . . . But, after all, no one has ever died of hysterics. So let her have hysterics, for hysteria is a loving gift God has sent to women. I don’t think I’ll go there at all anymore. I don’t want to get mixed up in it again.”

“Tell me—why did you say in front of her that she had never loved you?”

“I said it without meaning it. Listen, Alyosha boy, I’ll order some champagne and we’ll drink to my freedom. Ah, I wish you knew how happy I am.”

“No, Ivan, I’d rather not drink now,” Alyosha said suddenly; “besides, I feel somehow sad.”

“Yes, I know you’re feeling sad. I’ve noticed it all along.”

“So you have definitely made up your mind to leave tomorrow morning?”

“In the morning? I never said I was leaving in the morning . . . I don’t know, though, it may be in the morning after all. You know, I came here to eat lunch today just to avoid eating with the old man—that’s how sick I am of him. If I could have, I’d have left town just to get away from him. But why should it worry you so much that I’m leaving? You and I still have plenty of time to spend together before I leave, a whole eternity.”

“What kind of eternity is it if you’re leaving tomorrow?”

“But why should that concern us,” Ivan said with a laugh, “as long as we have time to settle all the matters we’ve met to discuss? Well, why do you look so surprised? Tell me yourself, then, why we met here. Was it to talk about my love for Katerina, about the old man and Dmitry? Life abroad? Russia’s fateful position? The Emperor Napoleon? Was that the purpose of our meeting?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“So you know yourself what the purpose was. It’s different with other people, but we callow youths, we have first of all to settle the eternal verities that worry us. All young Russia is talking of nothing but those eternal questions, just at the moment when the old generation has suddenly turned its attention to practical problems. And why do you think you’ve been looking at me so expectantly for the past three months? I’ll tell you—you wanted to ask me, ‘What do you believe in, or don’t you believe in anything at all?’ That was what all your questioning glances boiled down to, Alexei Karamazov, wasn’t it?”

“I guess you’re right,” Alyosha said with a smile, “and I only hope you’re not making fun of me now, Ivan.”

“I—poke fun at you? How could I disappoint my little brother who’s been looking at me with such intense expectation for three whole months? Look at me, Alyosha, don’t you see that I’m nothing but a young boy, just like you, except perhaps for the fact that I’m not a novice. And what have Russian boys, some of them at least, been doing all this time? Take, for instance, that stinking local tavern: they gather there in a corner. They’ve never set eyes on each other before in their lives and they’ll never see each other again for the next forty years after they step out of the tavern, but what do you think they talk about during those fleeting moments in the tavern? You can bet what you like that they’ll go right to those eternal verities, such as the existence of God and the immortality of the soul. And those who do not believe in God will bring in socialism, anarchy, and the reorganization of society according to a new scheme. But, as you realize, it really boils down to the same damned thing—they’re all the same old questions, they’re just approached from a different angle. And there are many, many extremely original, clever boys who spend their whole time nowadays debating these eternal questions. Isn’t that the truth?”