The Brothers Karamazov (64 page)

Playfully she sat down on the sofa very close to Alyosha, looking at him in undisguised delight. And she was not putting this on. She was obviously sincerely happy that he was there: her eyes were afire, her lips were smiling, but smiling with great warmth and joy. Alyosha was surprised, never having expected that this face could glow with such sincere warmth. When he had met her before, this woman had always left him with the uneasy impression that she held a threat; and the last time he had been terribly shaken by her malicious, wicked behavior toward Katerina . . . But now he was looking at a completely different person. And despite his own deep, private grief, his gaze involuntarily rested attentively on her. Grushenka’s manner, too, had changed radically since Alyosha had last seen her: there were no traces of that genteel affectation in her pronunciation, no artificially tender inflections in her voice, no annoying mannerisms in her gestures—everything about her was natural and straightforward; her movements were quick, unaffected, and relaxed, even though she was obviously tense.

“My God, all the things that are happening to me today!” she kept saying. “And why on earth should I be so pleased to see you, Alyosha? I really have no idea. I couldn’t explain it if you asked me.”

“So now you no longer know why you wanted him here,” Rakitin snorted. “Why did you have to pester me that way, then, for such a long time? I’m sure when you kept nagging me, ‘Bring him here, Rakitin, just get him here,’ I’m sure you had something in mind.”

“Yes, I had something in mind before, but things are changed; it’s quite different now. But I must receive you properly and offer you something. Yes, that’s what I’ll do. You know, Rakitin, I’ve suddenly become a kinder person. Come—why don’t you get yourself a chair; there’s no reason to stand up . . . But you do have a chair, I see. Good. Actually I should have known that Rakitin would never forget to take good care of himself! Look at him, Alyosha: he’s sitting on that chair now feeling offended because I invited you to sit down first. Ah, you wouldn’t believe how touchy this Rakitin is!” Grushenka laughed. “All right, don’t be angry, Rakitin—I feel kind today . . . But you, Alyosha darling, why do you look so sad? You aren’t afraid of me, by any chance, are you, my pet?”

And she peered laughingly into Alyosha’s eyes.

“He’s been disappointed—the promotion was denied.”

“What promotion? What are you talking about?”

“It turned out that his elder stinks.”

“Stinks? How? Sounds like a lot of nonsense. Or are you trying to say something nasty? Why don’t you keep quiet, you idiot! . . . Say, Alyosha, won’t you let me sit in your lap for a while? Like this!”

She suddenly got up and laughingly jumped onto Alyosha’s knees—like an affectionate cat—winding her right arm tenderly around the boy’s neck. “Let me cheer you up then, my pious little boy! But is it all right if I stay like this, sitting on your lap, for a while? I’ll get off whenever you say.”

But Alyosha said nothing. He sat there, afraid to move. He heard her promise to get off if he asked her to, but instead of answering her, he sat there as though paralyzed. But it was not at all what one might have thought and what Rakitin, for one, was imagining now as he watched rapaciously from his corner. The great grief inside Alyosha had completely blunted any other possible sensations, and if he could have analyzed what was going on inside him at that moment, he would have understood that in his present state he was perfectly immune to any temptation or seduction. And yet, despite his confused state and his oppressive grief, he was lucid enough to be surprised at the strange way he was reacting to this woman. He was not afraid of this “frightening” woman; he did not even have the fear he always felt whenever his thoughts wandered onto the subject of women. Indeed, this woman, whom he had feared more than any other, who was now sitting in his lap with her arm around his neck, aroused in him a singular and quite unexpected feeling—an immense human interest, a sincere curiosity in which there was no trace of his previous terror. And he was himself surprised that he should feel this way now.

“Ah, enough of all this nonsense!” Rakitin cried, finally losing patience. “What about serving us some champagne—you must remember our deal!”

“That’s right, I owe it to you. For you know, Alyosha, I promised him champagne if he could get you to come over here. Good, I wouldn’t mind champagne myself. Fenya! Go and get the bottle that Mitya left behind. Hurry! Stingy though I am, I’ll open that bottle. But it’s not because of you, Rakitin—you’re just a mushroom. It’s for him, for my prince charming! And although I have other things on my mind just now, I’ll drink with you, for I feel like having a bit of a good time!”

“But what’s all this talk about this not being the right moment, and what’s the message you’re expecting? Can’t you explain, or is it all so terribly secret?”

“It’s not all that secret and, besides, you know already,” Grushenka said, turning toward Rakitin with a worried air and leaning slightly away from Alyosha, although she still remained seated in his lap. “My officer is arriving, Rakitin. He’s on his way here.”

“I heard he was on his way, but isn’t he still pretty far away?”

“He’s in Mokroye at this moment. He’s supposed to send me a messenger from there. That’s what he wrote me himself. I got the letter today. So I’m sitting here and waiting for his messenger.”

“So that’s it! But what’s he doing in Mokroye?”

“That’s a long story. And, anyway, you know enough for now.”

“I can just imagine dear Mitya when he finds that out! Does he know about it already or not?”

“Why should he? Of course he doesn’t. If he knew, he’d kill me. But I’m not afraid of that now. I have no fear of his knife. Shut up, Rakitin! Don’t remind me again of Dmitry Karamazov, for he’s entirely shattered my heart. Besides, I don’t want to think about all that just now. I want to think only of sweet Alyosha, while I look at him. Smile at me, my pet; cheer up, my darling; laugh at my joy and at my silliness, but laugh . . . Look at that, he’s really smiling now! Ah, what a nice, friendly way you have of looking at people! You know, Alyosha, I thought you were furious with me for what I did the other day to that young lady . . . I was a bitch that day, but, you know, I’m still glad I did it—it was good.” Grushenka had become strangely thoughtful and there was suddenly a suggestion of cruelty in the curve of her lip. “Mitya told me she was screaming that I ought to be whipped. I did offend her quite badly. And she was so nice, invited me to dinner, thought she’d disarm me with her chocolate . . . Now I’m glad it ended the way it did,” she said again with the same smile. “I was only afraid you were angry with me . . .”

“And she really was afraid of that,” Rakitin put in, as if suddenly surprised at something he’d just discovered. “I’m beginning to believe she’s really afraid of you, Alyosha, you poor chicken!”

“He may be a chicken to you, Rakitin, but that’s only because you’re a man without a conscience—that’s what. But I love Alyosha with my whole soul, do you hear me? Do you believe that I love you with my whole soul, Alyosha?”

“You’re really the most shameless creature I’ve ever seen! Don’t you understand, Alexei, this is her way of making you a declaration of love?”

“And why not? I love him.”

“But what about that officer of yours? What about the message you’re supposed to be waiting for from Mokroye?”

“That has nothing to do with it.”

“Ah, women! I wish I could understand how you worked that one out!”

“You’re beginning to get on my nerves, Rakitin! One thing has nothing to do with the other, as I’ve told you. I love Alyosha in a different way. It’s true I did have designs on him before. But that’s because I’m a low, violent creature . . . But you know, Alyosha, at other moments I’ve looked on you as my conscience and thought: ‘How much he must despise a bad woman like me!’ And that’s what I was thinking on my way here from that young lady’s the other day. I noticed you a long time ago, Alyosha, and Mitya knows about it; I told him. Mitya understands exactly how I feel. Would you believe it, Alyosha, sometimes I look at you and I’m ashamed of myself and of everything about me . . . And so I started thinking of you, I can’t even tell you exactly when, I don’t remember . . .”

Fenya came in with the uncorked bottle of champagne and three glasses on a tray.

“Here comes the champagne at last!” Rakitin exclaimed. “Ah, Grushenka, you’re in quite a state tonight, not at all your usual self. Perhaps once you’ve had a glass of this stuff, you’ll start the dance, though. My God, they couldn’t even do that properly!” he said, examining the bottle. “The old woman uncorked it without cooling it. It’s quite warm . . . Well, never mind, I’ll have it the way it is.”

He went up to the table, filled a glass, emptied it and filled it again.

“One doesn’t get a chance to have champagne too often,” he said, licking his lips. “Here, Alyosha, take this glass and show us your mettle. What shall we drink to, then? To the gates of heaven, all right? You too, Grushenka, here, drink with us to the gates of heaven!”

“What gates of heaven?” she said, taking her glass.

Alyosha took his, took a few sips, and put it back on the table.

“I think I’d better not have any more,” he said with an apologetic smile.

“Why did you tell me you’d drink then?” Rakitin cried.

“Well, if that’s how it is, I won’t drink either,” Grushenka said. “Besides, I don’t really feel like drinking now. You go ahead, Rakitin—finish the whole bottle. I’ll only have some if Alyosha does.”

“Oh, how very touching!” Rakitin taunted her. “Why, just keep sitting on his lap! What’s the matter with you, Grushenka, after all? He, at least, has something to be sad about: he has revolted against his God and was even getting ready to devour some salami . . .”

“Why, what happened?” Grushenka asked.

“His saintly elder died today, you know, the holy Father Zosima.”

“Oh! So Father Zosima did die!” Grushenka cried, and crossed herself devoutly. “My God, and here I am sitting on his lap!” She started as though frightened, quickly got off Alyosha’s knees, and sat down on the sofa.

Alyosha looked at her intently. Gradually the surprise on his face turned into bright warmth.

“Rakitin,” Alyosha said suddenly in a loud, firm voice, “stop teasing me by saying that I’ve rebelled against my God. I don’t want to be unkind to you and that’s why I would like you not to be so unkind either. I’ve lost something that was more precious to me than anything has ever been to you, so you really cannot judge me now. Did you notice just now how kind Grushenka was and what respect she showed for my loss? I expected to find a wicked soul here and I was attracted because I myself was wicked and despicable . . . But instead I have found a true sister, a treasure, a loving soul . . . She has spared me . . . I mean you, Grushenka, you helped me to recover my soul just now . . .”

Alyosha’s lips quivered. He was out of breath, and fell silent.

“So now it turns out that she’s been doing all this to save you!” Rakitin laughed sneeringly. “Well, for your information, my boy, what she was trying to do was to eat you up! Take it from me.”

“Wait, Rakitin!” Grushenka cried, leaping to her feet. “Keep quiet, both of you. I’ll tell everything now. I want you to keep quiet, Alyosha, because you’ve made me feel ashamed with what you said about me. I’m bad. I’m not good as you said I was, and that’s the truth. And you, Rakitin, shut up, because you’re lying. Although I did once have the wicked idea of eating him up, as you put it, it’s completely different now, not the same thing at all . . . And I don’t want to hear another squeak out of you, do you hear?” Grushenka said in great agitation.

“They’re crazy, both of them,” Rakitin hissed, staring at Alyosha and Grushenka in amazement. “I feel as if I were in a madhouse. They’re so moved and so touched, they look as if they’re about to burst into tears!”

“And I may very well burst into tears at that,” Grushenka said. “He called me his sister and I’ll never, never forget it. You know what, Rakitin, I may be a wicked woman but still I gave away one onion.”

“What onion? What are you talking about? Damn it, you’ve really gone out of your mind!”

Rakitin was puzzled by their emotional state and he felt offended and angry, although it might have occurred to him that circumstances had combined to plunge both Grushenka and Alyosha into an emotional crisis such as people seldom experience in their lives. But Rakitin, who was very sensitive to things that touched him directly, was quite unreceptive to the feelings and emotions of others, partly because he was young and inexperienced, and partly out of plain egotism.

“You see, Alyosha dear,” Grushenka said with a nervous giggle, “I was bragging to Rakitin about giving away one onion. I don’t want to brag to you, but I’ll tell you about it for another reason. It is just a fairy-tale, but a good fairy-tale, and I heard it from Matryona (who’s my cook now) when I was a little girl. This is how it goes. Once upon a time there lived a very nasty, horrible old woman. When she died, she didn’t leave behind her one single good deed. So the devils got hold of her and tossed her into the flaming lake. Meantime, her guardian angel stood there, trying hard to think of one good deed of hers that he could mention to God in order to save her. Then he remembered and said to God: ‘Once,’ he said, ‘she pulled up an onion in her garden and gave it to a beggar woman.’ So God said to him: ‘Take that onion, hold it out to her over the lake, let her hold on to it, and try to pull herself out. If she does, let her enter heaven; if the onion breaks, the old woman will just have to stay where she is.’ So the angel hurried to the woman, held out the onion to her, and told her to take hold of it and pull. Then he himself began to pull her out very carefully and she was almost entirely out of the lake when the other sinners saw she was being pulled out and grabbed on to her so that they’d be pulled out of the flames too. But when she saw them, that wicked, horrible woman started kicking them, saying: ‘I’m being pulled out, not you, for it’s my onion, not yours!’ As soon she said that, the onion snapped and the woman fell back into the flaming lake, where she’s still burning to this day. And her guardian angel wept and walked away.