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卡拉马佐夫兄弟|The Brothers Karanazov

第一部 第二卷 不合时宜的聚会:四、信仰不坚的太太

属类： 双语小说 【分类】双语小说 -[作者: 陀思妥耶夫斯基] 阅读：[7391]
PART I:Book II. An Unfortunate Gathering:Chapter IV. A Lady Of Little Faith
《 字+字- 行+行- 页+页- 字+字- 行+行- 页+页- 》
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远道而来的地主太太看着长老与平民百姓谈话并为他们祝福的整个场面，禁不住默默流下了一串串眼泪，不时用手帕擦着。她是位多愁善感、真诚善良的上流社会的太太。当长老最后走到她身边的时候，她兴奋异常地迎上去说：

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“看着这动人的场面，我真是百感交集……”她激动得说不下去了。“啊，我知道人民爱您，我自己也爱人民，我愿意爱他们，怎么能不爱人民呢，不爱我们优秀、淳朴、伟大的俄罗斯人民呢？”

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“您女儿的身体怎么样？您还想跟我谈话吗？”

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“啊，我坚决请求，我恳切请求，我愿意跪下来，我情愿在您面前哪怕跪三天，只要您放我进来。我们到您这儿来，是要向您这位包治百病的高手表示衷心的谢意。您治好了我的丽莎的病，完全治愈了。用什么办法治好的呢？就是星期四那天您为她做了祈祷，把您的手放在她头上。我们急着赶来吻您的双手，表达我们的感激和崇敬之情！”

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“怎么能说治好了呢？她不是还躺在轮椅上吗？”

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“可是夜间热病的症状完全消失了，从星期四到现在已经整整两天两夜没犯病了，”那太太神经质地匆忙说道，“不仅如此，她的两条腿也有力气了。今天早晨她起床的时候身体很好，她睡了一整夜，您看看她那红润的脸色，看看她那明亮的眼睛。以前老是哭个不停，现在却笑声不断，又快活又高兴。今天她硬是要求让她站一会儿，她居然独自站了足足一分钟，没有什么帮衬。她跟我打赌，说两星期后能跳‘卡德里尔舞’。我请来了本地的赫尔岑斯图勃医生，他耸了耸肩说：我感到惊讶，感到不可思议。难道您不希望我们来打扰您，不希望我们急匆匆赶来感谢您吗？丽莎，你谢啊，道谢啊！”

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丽莎那可爱的喜气洋洋的小脸蛋突然变得严肃起来，她尽量从轮椅上稍稍坐起来，眼睛望着长老，双手合在胸前，可忍不住又突然哈哈大笑起来……

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“我这是笑他，笑他！”她指着阿廖沙说，她因为忍不住笑出了声在生自己的气。假如这时候有谁看一眼站在长老背后一步之遥的阿廖沙，那一定能发现他的脸一下子涨得通红通红，他的眼睛闪亮了一下又连忙低垂下来。

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“阿列克谢·费奥多罗维奇，她有东西要交给您……您身体好吗？”丽莎的母亲突然转身问阿廖沙，并把自己保养得极好的手伸给他。长老回过头来，突然朝阿廖沙仔细看了一眼。阿廖沙走到丽莎跟前，脸上露出奇怪的微笑，也把自己的手伸给她。丽莎装出一本正经的样子。

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“卡捷琳娜·伊凡诺芙娜托我把这交给您。”她递给他一封短柬。“她特别请您到她那儿去一次，越快越好，不要骗她，一定要去。”

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“她请我去一次？让我到她那儿……为什么？”阿廖沙深为惊讶地说道，他的脸上突然露出疑惑的神情。

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“啊，这全是因为德米特里·费奥多罗维奇以及最近发生的几件事情。”丽莎的母亲匆匆解释道。“卡捷琳娜·伊凡诺芙娜现在拿定了一个主意。为这件事她一定要见您……为什么？我当然不知道，可是她请您尽快去。您会这样做的，肯定会这样的，基督徒的感情也要求您这样做。”

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“我总共才见过她一次。”阿廖沙还是困惑不解。

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“啊，她是个多么崇高、多么完美的人！……即使单凭她受的那些苦难……您想想，她经受过多少苦难，她现在还在经受什么样的苦难，您想想她面临的困难……这一切真可怕！真可怕！”

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“好的，我一定去。”阿廖沙匆匆浏览了那封神秘的短柬后说，短柬里除了坚决请他前去，没有任何解释。

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“啊呀，您这样做是多么友好，多么高尚！”丽莎突然兴奋地大声喊道。“可我还对妈妈说，他是绝对不会去的，他正在修行呢。您真好，真好！我一直认为您是个大好人！我现在对您说这话，心里真高兴！”

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“丽莎！”她妈妈严厉地喝住她，不过随即脸上又露出了笑容。

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“您把我们都给忘了，阿列克谢·费奥多罗维奇，您根本就不想上我们家，可丽莎一再对我说，只有跟您在一起她才感到快活。”阿廖沙抬起低垂的眼睛，突然又脸红了，连他自己也不知道为什么，突然又笑了笑。不过，长老已经不再注意他。他在跟那位远道而来的修士说话，那位修士，我们上面已经说过，正站在丽莎的轮椅旁边等待着长老出来。很显然，他是那种最最一般的修士，也就是他地位卑微，眼界狭隘，思想偏执，但是他信仰坚定，意志顽强。他自称来自遥远的北方，来自奥勃多尔斯克的圣西里维斯特尔修道院——总共只有九名修士的穷修道院。长老为他祝福并邀请他方便的时候到他的修道室去。

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“您怎么敢做这样的事情？”修士严肃地指着丽莎突然问道。他这是指长老为她“治病”的事。

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“当然，说痊愈还为时尚早。减轻病情并不等于彻底治愈，而且这也可能是由于其他原因造成的。如果说有什么好转，那么除了上帝的旨意，谁也没有这个力量。一切都取决于上帝。请您来看望我，神甫。”临末他对修士说。“我不能随时接待客人：我经常生病，我知道自己的日子已经屈指可数了。”

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“啊，不，不，上帝不会把您从我们身边夺走的，您还会活很久很久。”丽莎的母亲大声喊道。“再说您有什么病？您看上去是那么健康、快活、幸福。”

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“今天我感到好多了，但我知道这是暂时的现象。我现在对自己的病知道得非常清楚，如果您觉得我非常快活，那么再也没有比您刚才说的话更加能使我高兴的了。因为人是为幸福而生的。谁真正幸福了，谁就有资格对自己说：‘我在这世界上履行了上帝的预言！’所有恪守清规的人、所有圣者、所有神圣的殉道者都是幸福的。”

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“啊，您说得多好，您的话是多么大胆、多么高尚！”丽莎的母亲喊道。“您的话说到我的心坎里去了。可是幸福，幸福，它又在哪儿呢？有谁可以说自己是幸福的？啊，既然您是那么善良，今天允许我们再次见您，那么我把上次没有说完、没有勇气说的话，把我长期以来感到痛苦的一切统统告诉您吧！我痛苦的是，请原谅，我痛苦的是……”她神情激动地合拢双手伸到他面前。

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“什么事使您这么痛苦？”

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“我的痛苦是没有信仰……”

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“不信上帝？”

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“啊，不，不，这是我连想也不敢想的，可是我觉得来世是个谜！谁也无法解开这个谜，没有人能解开！您听我说，您能医治百病，您洞察人们的心灵，我当然不敢希望您完全相信我，但是我可以向您郑重保证，我现在绝不是信口开河，关于来世的想法使我痛苦不安，甚至害怕和恐惧……我也不知道该去问谁，我一辈子都不敢……现在我鼓起勇气来问您……天哪，您现在会把我当成什么人啊！”她激动地双手一拍。

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“您不用担心我会怎么看，”长老回答说，“我完全相信您的烦恼是真诚的。”

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“啊，我该怎样感谢您啊！您看，我闭上眼睛在心里想：如果大家都有信仰，那么这信仰是怎么产生的呢？人们说，这一切起初来自对可怖的自然现象的恐惧，实际上这一切都是不存在的。我想，我相信了一辈子，可是我一旦死去，一切都马上不存在了，‘坟墓上只会长出牛蒡草’，就像一位作家说的那样。这真可怕！用什么办法，怎样才能恢复信仰呢？不过，我也只是小时候才相信，机械的，没有动过脑子……用什么，究竟是用什么来证明这一点呢？我现在就是来向您请教这个问题的。如果我错过了眼前这个机会，那么这一辈子就没有人能回答我的问题了。用什么来证明？怎么能使我相信？唉，我真不幸！我发现周围的人，几乎所有的人都觉得无所谓，现在谁也不去考虑这件事，只有我一个人无法忍受。这太可怕了，太可怕了！”

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“毫无疑问，这很可怕。可这是无法证明的，只能相信。”

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“怎样才能相信？根据什么可以相信？”

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“就靠化为实际行动的爱的经验。您要尽量爱您亲近的人，这爱要付诸行动，要坚持不懈。您在爱的方面做出的成绩越大，您就会越来越坚信上帝的存在，相信您灵魂的永生。如果您对亲近的人爱到可以作出自我牺牲的地步，那么您肯定会得到坚定的信仰，任何怀疑都不会侵蚀您的灵魂。这是最可靠也是最正确的办法。”

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“付诸实际行动的爱？这又产生了一个问题，而且是个很重要的问题！您看：我很爱人类，您相信吗，有时候我幻想着要抛弃一切，甚至所有的一切，离开丽莎，去当护士。我闭上眼睛，心里在想，在幻想，这时候我感到自己身上有一股不可战胜的力量。任何创伤，任何脓疮都不会使我害怕。我会亲手去包扎，去清洗，我可以看护那些痛苦不堪的病人，我准备亲吻这些疮疤……”

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“您能这样考虑，而不想别的，这已经很好，很不容易了。有时候您真的会不知不觉地做一件好事。”

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“是的，可我怎么能长久地忍受这样的生活呢？”这位太太激烈到近于疯狂地继续说道。“这才是最主要的问题！这是最折磨人的问题。我闭上眼睛问自己：你在这条路上能长期坚持下去吗？假如有一位病人，我为他清洗伤口，他非但不知恩图报，反而用种种任性的言行来折磨你，对你充满爱心的服侍不加珍惜，不予重视，冲着你大喊大叫，提出粗鲁的要求，甚至向上司告你的状（这种情况在痛苦难耐的病人身上是经常发生的），那时候你怎么办？你的爱能不能继续下去？您看我已经胆战心惊地预料到：如果说有什么东西能使我对人类这种‘付诸实际行动’的爱立即冷却下去的话，那便是忘恩负义。一句话，我做了事情是要求报答的，我要求马上得到报答，也就是要夸奖我，用爱来报答我的爱，否则我不可能爱任何人！”

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她处在最真诚的自我鞭策的激情中，说完便带着挑衅般的坚决神情看了看长老。

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“有一位医生跟我说过完全一模一样的话，只不过那是很久以前的事了。”长老说，“他已经上了年纪，无疑是个聪明人。他像您一样说得十分坦率，尽管带有玩笑的性质，但那是一种伤心的玩笑。他说，我爱人类，但自己觉得奇怪的是我对整个人类爱得越深，却对个别人，也就是一个个单独的人，爱得越少。他说，我往往在头脑中幻想着要热情地为人类服务，为了他们也许真的愿意走上十字架，假如突然需要这样做的话。但是经验证明，我无法跟任何人在一个房间里住上两天。只要看到别人接近我，那么他的个性就会压抑我的自尊，束缚我的自由。不出一昼夜，即使最好的人我也会恨得要命：恨这个吃饭吃得慢，恨那个伤风了不停地擤鼻涕。他说，只要别人稍稍招惹我一下，我就会成为他们的仇敌。然而事情往往会这样：我对个别的人恨得越深，我对整个人类的爱就越炽烈。”

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“可怎么办呢？这种情况下该怎么办呢？这时候应该绝望吗？”

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“不，既然您为这件事感到十分难过，这就足够了。您要力所能及地去做，而且您一定能得到报偿。您能这样深刻和真诚地反省自己，说明您已经做了许多，如果您刚才这样真诚地跟我说话仅仅是为了让别人像我一样夸奖您的真诚，那么您在爱的行动方面肯定不会做出任何成绩，一切将停留在您的幻想中，您的一生也就只能像幻影般消逝。这样的话，您对来世的问题也会忘得一干二净，最后会糊里糊涂地感到心安理得了。”

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“您完全击中了我的要害！刚才，也就是此时此刻，我方才明白，当我对您说我无法容忍忘恩负义的时候，就像您所说的那样，我确实在期待着您夸奖我的真诚。您用我自身的例子来提示我，开导我，而且用我自身的例子向我解释清楚了！”

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“您说的是真心话吗？那么现在，您这样坦率地承认之后，我相信您的话是真诚的，您的心是善良的。即使您达不到幸福的境界，那您也要永远记住，您走的是一条正确的道路，千万不要离开这条正路。主要的是您要避免撒谎，时时刻刻都要提防自己撒谎，对自己对别人都要避免提出苛刻的要求。如果您觉得自己身上有卑劣的东西，只要您自己觉察到了，那就说明已经在排除了。您要避免恐惧，尽管恐惧是任何谎言引起的必然结果。永远不要害怕在将爱化为行动的过程中所表现出来的胆怯，即使这时候作出错误的行为也不必过分害怕。我很遗憾，我不能对您说些令人高兴的话，因为比起停留在幻想中的爱，积极的爱是件残酷而令人望而却步的事情。幻想式的爱渴望迅速获得成功，立即得到满足，并引起众人的注意。有时候甚至愿意献出生命，但千万不能旷日持久，而要立竿见影，就像舞台上演戏那样立即见出分晓，只求引起大家的注意和喝彩。至于积极的爱，那是一项工作，是一种毅力的考验，对有些人来说也许是一门深奥的学问。不过我要预先告诉您，当您看到自己尽了最大努力却没有接近目标反而远离目标因而感到气馁的时候，我要预先告诉您，这时候您会突然达到目的，您会清楚地看到冥冥中上帝奇迹般的力量，那永远爱您、永远在暗中引导您的上帝的力量。请原谅，我不能再跟您多说了，他们还在等我。再见了。”

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那位太太哭了。

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“丽莎，丽莎，请您也为我的丽莎祝福，为她祝福吧！”她突然激动得像展翅欲飞的鸟。

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“她是不值得爱的，我看到她一直在那儿淘气。”长老开玩笑说，“您为什么总要取笑阿列克谢？”

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丽莎确实一直在耍小孩脾气。她早就发现，上一次就发现，阿廖沙见到她就害羞，并且尽量不去看她。这使她感到非常有趣，她专心致志地等待着捕捉他的目光。阿廖沙抵挡不住那紧盯着他的目光，自己也会情不自禁地、在一股难以克制的力量驱使下时不时偷偷瞟她一眼。这时她的脸上立即漾起得意的微笑，眼睛直勾勾地望着他。阿廖沙更加羞得无地自容。最后，他索性转过脸躲到长老的背后去了。过了几分钟，在那股不可抑制的力量的驱使下，他又回头看看她是不是还在注视他，他发现丽莎从轮椅上几乎探出了整个身子，从侧面望着他，迫不及待地等着他看她。当她捕捉到他的目光之后，便哈哈大笑起来，以致长老都忍不住问道：

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“你这淘气鬼，为什么要这样羞他？”

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丽莎突然完全出人意料地涨红了脸，眼睛里闪过一道亮光，神情严肃得可怕，突然用一种激动而恼恨的语气，神经质地飞快说道：

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“他为什么把一切都忘了呢？我小时候他抱过我，我们一起玩耍，他还来教我读书识字，这您知道吗？两年前，他临走时说他永远不会忘记我们是好朋友，永远永远是好朋友！可他现在突然怕我了，难道我会把他吃了，还是怎么的？为什么他不愿意走近我？为什么他不跟我说话？为什么他不愿意上我们家？难道是您不放他来吗？我们知道他可以随便行动。我不好意思叫他，他首先应该想起来，如果没有忘记的话。是啊，他现在要拯救自己的灵魂呢！您干吗给他穿上这件修道长袍……他一跑就会绊倒的……”

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突然，她忍不住用手蒙住了脸，不可抑止地大笑起来，这是一种长长的、神经质的、颤抖而无声的笑。长老微笑着听她说完后充满温情地为她祝福。她开始吻他的手，猛地把他的手按在自己眼睛上，哭了起来。

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“您别生我的气，我是傻瓜，一钱不值……也许阿廖沙做得对，他不愿理睬我这样可笑的人，这样做是很对的。”

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“我一定让他到您那儿去。”长老说得很果断。

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A visitor looking on the scene of his conversation with the peasants and his blessing them shed silent tears and wiped them away with her handkerchief. She was a sentimental society lady of genuinely good disposition in many respects. When the elder went up to her at last she met him enthusiastically.

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“Ah, what I have been feeling, looking on at this touching scene!...” She could not go on for emotion. “Oh, I understand the people’s love for you. I love the people myself. I want to love them. And who could help loving them, our splendid Russian people, so simple in their greatness!”

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“How is your daughter’s health? You wanted to talk to me again?”

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“Oh, I have been urgently begging for it, I have prayed for it! I was ready to fall on my knees and kneel for three days at your windows until you let me in. We have come, great healer, to express our ardent gratitude. You have healed my Lise, healed her completely, merely by praying over her last Thursday and laying your hands upon her. We have hastened here to kiss those hands, to pour out our feelings and our homage.”

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“What do you mean by healed? But she is still lying down in her chair.”

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“But her night fevers have entirely ceased ever since Thursday,” said the lady with nervous haste. “And that’s not all. Her legs are stronger. This morning she got up well; she had slept all night. Look at her rosy cheeks, her bright eyes! She used to be always crying, but now she laughs and is gay and happy. This morning she insisted on my letting her stand up, and she stood up for a whole minute without any support. She wagers that in a fortnight she’ll be dancing a quadrille. I’ve called in Doctor Herzenstube. He shrugged his shoulders and said, ‘I am amazed; I can make nothing of it.’ And would you have us not come here to disturb you, not fly here to thank you? Lise, thank him—thank him!”

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Lise’s pretty little laughing face became suddenly serious. She rose in her chair as far as she could and, looking at the elder, clasped her hands before him, but could not restrain herself and broke into laughter.

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“It’s at him,” she said, pointing to Alyosha, with childish vexation at herself for not being able to repress her mirth.

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If any one had looked at Alyosha standing a step behind the elder, he would have caught a quick flush crimsoning his cheeks in an instant. His eyes shone and he looked down.

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“She has a message for you, Alexey Fyodorovitch. How are you?” the mother went on, holding out her exquisitely gloved hand to Alyosha.

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The elder turned round and all at once looked attentively at Alyosha. The latter went nearer to Lise and, smiling in a strangely awkward way, held out his hand to her too. Lise assumed an important air.

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“Katerina Ivanovna has sent you this through me.” She handed him a little note. “She particularly begs you to go and see her as soon as possible; that you will not fail her, but will be sure to come.”

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“She asks me to go and see her? Me? What for?” Alyosha muttered in great astonishment. His face at once looked anxious. “Oh, it’s all to do with Dmitri Fyodorovitch and—what has happened lately,” the mother explained hurriedly. “Katerina Ivanovna has made up her mind, but she must see you about it.... Why, of course, I can’t say. But she wants to see you at once. And you will go to her, of course. It is a Christian duty.”

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“I have only seen her once,” Alyosha protested with the same perplexity.

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“Oh, she is such a lofty, incomparable creature! If only for her suffering.... Think what she has gone through, what she is enduring now! Think what awaits her! It’s all terrible, terrible!”

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“Very well, I will come,” Alyosha decided, after rapidly scanning the brief, enigmatic note, which consisted of an urgent entreaty that he would come, without any sort of explanation.

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“Oh, how sweet and generous that would be of you!” cried Lise with sudden animation. “I told mamma you’d be sure not to go. I said you were saving your soul. How splendid you are! I’ve always thought you were splendid. How glad I am to tell you so!”

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“Lise!” said her mother impressively, though she smiled after she had said it.

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“You have quite forgotten us, Alexey Fyodorovitch,” she said; “you never come to see us. Yet Lise has told me twice that she is never happy except with you.”

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Alyosha raised his downcast eyes and again flushed, and again smiled without knowing why. But the elder was no longer watching him. He had begun talking to a monk who, as mentioned before, had been awaiting his entrance by Lise’s chair. He was evidently a monk of the humblest, that is of the peasant, class, of a narrow outlook, but a true believer, and, in his own way, a stubborn one. He announced that he had come from the far north, from Obdorsk, from Saint Sylvester, and was a member of a poor monastery, consisting of only ten monks. The elder gave him his blessing and invited him to come to his cell whenever he liked.

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“How can you presume to do such deeds?” the monk asked suddenly, pointing solemnly and significantly at Lise. He was referring to her “healing.”

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“It’s too early, of course, to speak of that. Relief is not complete cure, and may proceed from different causes. But if there has been any healing, it is by no power but God’s will. It’s all from God. Visit me, Father,” he added to the monk. “It’s not often I can see visitors. I am ill, and I know that my days are numbered.”

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“Oh, no, no! God will not take you from us. You will live a long, long time yet,” cried the lady. “And in what way are you ill? You look so well, so gay and happy.”

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“I am extraordinarily better to‐day. But I know that it’s only for a moment. I understand my disease now thoroughly. If I seem so happy to you, you could never say anything that would please me so much. For men are made for happiness, and any one who is completely happy has a right to say to himself, ‘I am doing God’s will on earth.’ All the righteous, all the saints, all the holy martyrs were happy.”

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“Oh, how you speak! What bold and lofty words!” cried the lady. “You seem to pierce with your words. And yet—happiness, happiness—where is it? Who can say of himself that he is happy? Oh, since you have been so good as to let us see you once more to‐day, let me tell you what I could not utter last time, what I dared not say, all I am suffering and have been for so long! I am suffering! Forgive me! I am suffering!”

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And in a rush of fervent feeling she clasped her hands before him.

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“From what specially?”

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“I suffer ... from lack of faith.”

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“Lack of faith in God?”

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“Oh, no, no! I dare not even think of that. But the future life—it is such an enigma! And no one, no one can solve it. Listen! You are a healer, you are deeply versed in the human soul, and of course I dare not expect you to believe me entirely, but I assure you on my word of honor that I am not speaking lightly now. The thought of the life beyond the grave distracts me to anguish, to terror. And I don’t know to whom to appeal, and have not dared to all my life. And now I am so bold as to ask you. Oh, God! What will you think of me now?”

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She clasped her hands.

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“Don’t distress yourself about my opinion of you,” said the elder. “I quite believe in the sincerity of your suffering.”

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“Oh, how thankful I am to you! You see, I shut my eyes and ask myself if every one has faith, where did it come from? And then they do say that it all comes from terror at the menacing phenomena of nature, and that none of it’s real. And I say to myself, ‘What if I’ve been believing all my life, and when I come to die there’s nothing but the burdocks growing on my grave?’ as I read in some author. It’s awful! How—how can I get back my faith? But I only believed when I was a little child, mechanically, without thinking of anything. How, how is one to prove it? I have come now to lay my soul before you and to ask you about it. If I let this chance slip, no one all my life will answer me. How can I prove it? How can I convince myself? Oh, how unhappy I am! I stand and look about me and see that scarcely any one else cares; no one troubles his head about it, and I’m the only one who can’t stand it. It’s deadly—deadly!”

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“No doubt. But there’s no proving it, though you can be convinced of it.”

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“How?”

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“By the experience of active love. Strive to love your neighbor actively and indefatigably. In as far as you advance in love you will grow surer of the reality of God and of the immortality of your soul. If you attain to perfect self‐forgetfulness in the love of your neighbor, then you will believe without doubt, and no doubt can possibly enter your soul. This has been tried. This is certain.”

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“In active love? There’s another question—and such a question! You see, I so love humanity that—would you believe it?—I often dream of forsaking all that I have, leaving Lise, and becoming a sister of mercy. I close my eyes and think and dream, and at that moment I feel full of strength to overcome all obstacles. No wounds, no festering sores could at that moment frighten me. I would bind them up and wash them with my own hands. I would nurse the afflicted. I would be ready to kiss such wounds.”

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“It is much, and well that your mind is full of such dreams and not others. Sometime, unawares, you may do a good deed in reality.”

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“Yes. But could I endure such a life for long?” the lady went on fervently, almost frantically. “That’s the chief question—that’s my most agonizing question. I shut my eyes and ask myself, ‘Would you persevere long on that path? And if the patient whose wounds you are washing did not meet you with gratitude, but worried you with his whims, without valuing or remarking your charitable services, began abusing you and rudely commanding you, and complaining to the superior authorities of you (which often happens when people are in great suffering)—what then? Would you persevere in your love, or not?’ And do you know, I came with horror to the conclusion that, if anything could dissipate my love to humanity, it would be ingratitude. In short, I am a hired servant, I expect my payment at once—that is, praise, and the repayment of love with love. Otherwise I am incapable of loving any one.”

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She was in a very paroxysm of self‐castigation, and, concluding, she looked with defiant resolution at the elder.

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“It’s just the same story as a doctor once told me,” observed the elder. “He was a man getting on in years, and undoubtedly clever. He spoke as frankly as you, though in jest, in bitter jest. ‘I love humanity,’ he said, ‘but I wonder at myself. The more I love humanity in general, the less I love man in particular. In my dreams,’ he said, ‘I have often come to making enthusiastic schemes for the service of humanity, and perhaps I might actually have faced crucifixion if it had been suddenly necessary; and yet I am incapable of living in the same room with any one for two days together, as I know by experience. As soon as any one is near me, his personality disturbs my self‐complacency and restricts my freedom. In twenty‐four hours I begin to hate the best of men: one because he’s too long over his dinner; another because he has a cold and keeps on blowing his nose. I become hostile to people the moment they come close to me. But it has always happened that the more I detest men individually the more ardent becomes my love for humanity.’ ”

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“But what’s to be done? What can one do in such a case? Must one despair?”

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“No. It is enough that you are distressed at it. Do what you can, and it will be reckoned unto you. Much is done already in you since you can so deeply and sincerely know yourself. If you have been talking to me so sincerely, simply to gain approbation for your frankness, as you did from me just now, then of course you will not attain to anything in the achievement of real love; it will all get no further than dreams, and your whole life will slip away like a phantom. In that case you will naturally cease to think of the future life too, and will of yourself grow calmer after a fashion in the end.”

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“You have crushed me! Only now, as you speak, I understand that I was really only seeking your approbation for my sincerity when I told you I could not endure ingratitude. You have revealed me to myself. You have seen through me and explained me to myself!”

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“Are you speaking the truth? Well, now, after such a confession, I believe that you are sincere and good at heart. If you do not attain happiness, always remember that you are on the right road, and try not to leave it. Above all, avoid falsehood, every kind of falsehood, especially falseness to yourself. Watch over your own deceitfulness and look into it every hour, every minute. Avoid being scornful, both to others and to yourself. What seems to you bad within you will grow purer from the very fact of your observing it in yourself. Avoid fear, too, though fear is only the consequence of every sort of falsehood. Never be frightened at your own faint‐heartedness in attaining love. Don’t be frightened overmuch even at your evil actions. I am sorry I can say nothing more consoling to you, for love in action is a harsh and dreadful thing compared with love in dreams. Love in dreams is greedy for immediate action, rapidly performed and in the sight of all. Men will even give their lives if only the ordeal does not last long but is soon over, with all looking on and applauding as though on the stage. But active love is labor and fortitude, and for some people too, perhaps, a complete science. But I predict that just when you see with horror that in spite of all your efforts you are getting farther from your goal instead of nearer to it—at that very moment I predict that you will reach it and behold clearly the miraculous power of the Lord who has been all the time loving and mysteriously guiding you. Forgive me for not being able to stay longer with you. They are waiting for me. Good‐by.”

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The lady was weeping.

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“Lise, Lise! Bless her—bless her!” she cried, starting up suddenly.

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“She does not deserve to be loved. I have seen her naughtiness all along,” the elder said jestingly. “Why have you been laughing at Alexey?”

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Lise had in fact been occupied in mocking at him all the time. She had noticed before that Alyosha was shy and tried not to look at her, and she found this extremely amusing. She waited intently to catch his eye. Alyosha, unable to endure her persistent stare, was irresistibly and suddenly drawn to glance at her, and at once she smiled triumphantly in his face. Alyosha was even more disconcerted and vexed. At last he turned away from her altogether and hid behind the elder’s back. After a few minutes, drawn by the same irresistible force, he turned again to see whether he was being looked at or not, and found Lise almost hanging out of her chair to peep sideways at him, eagerly waiting for him to look. Catching his eye, she laughed so that the elder could not help saying, “Why do you make fun of him like that, naughty girl?”

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Lise suddenly and quite unexpectedly blushed. Her eyes flashed and her face became quite serious. She began speaking quickly and nervously in a warm and resentful voice:

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“Why has he forgotten everything, then? He used to carry me about when I was little. We used to play together. He used to come to teach me to read, do you know. Two years ago, when he went away, he said that he would never forget me, that we were friends for ever, for ever, for ever! And now he’s afraid of me all at once. Am I going to eat him? Why doesn’t he want to come near me? Why doesn’t he talk? Why won’t he come and see us? It’s not that you won’t let him. We know that he goes everywhere. It’s not good manners for me to invite him. He ought to have thought of it first, if he hasn’t forgotten me. No, now he’s saving his soul! Why have you put that long gown on him? If he runs he’ll fall.”

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And suddenly she hid her face in her hand and went off into irresistible, prolonged, nervous, inaudible laughter. The elder listened to her with a smile, and blessed her tenderly. As she kissed his hand she suddenly pressed it to her eyes and began crying.

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“Don’t be angry with me. I’m silly and good for nothing ... and perhaps Alyosha’s right, quite right, in not wanting to come and see such a ridiculous girl.”

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“I will certainly send him,” said the elder.

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