IT was quite late (days are short in November) when Alyosha rang

at the prison gate. It was beginning to get dusk. But Alyosha knew

that he would be admitted without difficulty. Things were managed in

our little town, as everywhere else. At first, of course, on the

conclusion of the preliminary inquiry, relations and a few other

persons could only obtain interviews with Mitya by going through

certain inevitable formalities. But later, though the formalities were

not relaxed, exceptions were made for some, at least, of Mitya's

visitors. So much so, that sometimes the interviews with the

prisoner in the room set aside for the purpose were practically

tete-a-tete.

    These exceptions, however, were few in number; only Grushenka,

Alyosha and Rakitin were treated like this. But the captain of the

police, Mihail Mihailovitch, was very favourably disposed to

Grushenka. His abuse of her at Mokroe weighed on the old man's

conscience, and when he learned the whole story, he completely changed

his view of her. And strange to say, though he was firmly persuaded of

his guilt, yet after Mitya was once in prison, the old man came to

take a more and more lenient view of him. "He was a man of good heart,

perhaps," he thought, "who had come to grief from drinking and

dissipation." His first horror had been succeeded by pity. As for

Alyosha, the police captain was very fond of him and had known him for

a long time. Rakitin, who had of late taken to coming very often to

see the prisoner, was one of the most intimate acquaintances of the

"police captain's young ladies," as he called them, and was always

hanging about their house. He gave lessons in the house of the

prison superintendent, too, who, though scrupulous in the

performance of his duties, was a kindhearted old man. Alyosha,

again, had an intimate acquaintance of long standing with the

superintendent, who was fond of talking to him, generally on sacred

subjects. He respected Ivan Fyodorovitch, and stood in awe of his

opinion, though he was a great philosopher himself; "self-taught,"

of course. But Alyosha had an irresistible attraction for him.

During the last year the old man had taken to studying the

Apocryphal Gospels, and constantly talked over his impressions with

his young friend. He used to come and see him in the monastery and

discussed for hours together with him and with the monks. So even if

Alyosha were late at the prison, he had only to go to the

superintendent and everything was made easy. Besides, everyone in

the prison, down to the humblest warder, had grown used to Alyosha.

The sentry, of course, did not trouble him so long as the

authorities were satisfied.

    When Mitya was summoned from his cell, he always went

downstairs, to the place set aside for interviews. As Alyosha

entered the room he came upon Rakitin, who was just taking leave of

Mitya. They were both talking loudly. Mitya was laughing heartily as

he saw him out, while Rakitin seemed grumbling. Rakitin did not like

meeting Alyosha, especially of late. He scarcely spoke to him, and

bowed to him stiffly. Seeing Alyosha enter now, he frowned and

looked away, as though he were entirely absorbed in buttoning his big,

warm, fur-trimmed overcoat. Then he began looking at once for his

umbrella.

    "I must mind not to forget my belongings," he muttered, simply

to say something.

    "Mind you don't forget other people's belongings," said Mitya,

as a joke, and laughed at once at his own wit. Rakitin fired up

instantly.

    "You'd better give that advice to your own family, who've always

been a slave-driving lot, and not to Rakitin," he cried, suddenly

trembling with anger.

    "What's the matter? I was joking," cried Mitya. "Damn it all! They

are all like that." He turned to Alyosha, nodding towards Rakitin's

hurriedly retreating figure. "He was sitting here, laughing and

cheerful, and all at once he boils up like that. He didn't even nod to

you. Have you broken with him completely? Why are you so late? I've

not been simply waiting, but thirsting for you the whole morning.

But never mind. We'll make up for it now."

    "Why does he come here so often? Surely you are not such great

friends?" asked Alyosha. He, too, nodded at the door through which

Rakitin had disappeared.

    "Great friends with Rakitin? No, not as much as that. Is it

likely- a pig like that? He considers I am... a blackguard. They can't

understand a joke either, that's the worst of such people. They

never understand a joke, and their souls are dry, dry and flat; they

remind me of prison walls when I was first brought here. But he is a

clever fellow, very clever. Well, Alexey, it's all over with me now."

    He sat down on the bench and made Alyosha sit down beside him.

    "Yes, the trial's to-morrow. Are you so hopeless, brother?"

Alyosha said, with an apprehensive feeling.

    "What are you talking about?" said Mitya, looking at him rather

uncertainly. "Oh, you mean the trial! Damn it all! Till now we've been

talking of things that don't matter, about this trial, but I haven't

said a word to you about the chief thing. Yes, the trial is to-morrow;

but it wasn't the trial I meant, when I said it was all over with

me. Why do you look at me so critically?"

    "What do you mean, Mitya?"

    "Ideas, ideas, that's all! Ethics! What is ethics?"

    "Ethics?" asked Alyosha, wondering.

    "Yes; is it a science?"

    "Yes, there is such a science... but... I confess I can't

explain to you what sort of science it is."

    "Rakitin knows. Rakitin knows a lot, damn him! He's not going to

be a monk. He means to go to Petersburg. There he'll go in for

criticism of an elevating tendency. Who knows, he may be of use and

make his own career, too. Ough! they are first-rate, these people,

at making a career! Damn ethics, I am done for, Alexey, I am, you

man of God! I love you more than anyone. It makes my heart yearn to

look at you. Who was Karl Bernard?"

    "Karl Bernard?" Alyosha was surprised again.

    "No, not Karl. Stay, I made a mistake. Claude Bernard. What was

he? Chemist or what?"

    "He must be a savant," answered Alyosha; "but I confess I can't

tell you much about him, either. I've heard of him as a savant, but

what sort I don't know."

    "Well, damn him, then! I don't know either," swore Mitya. "A

scoundrel of some sort, most likely. They are all scoundrels. And

Rakitin will make his way. Rakitin will get on anywhere; he is another

Bernard. Ugh, these Bernards! They are all over the place."

    "But what is the matter?" Alyosha asked insistently.

    "He wants to write an article about me, about my case, and so

begin his literary career. That's what he comes for; he said so

himself. He wants to prove some theory. He wants to say 'he couldn't

help murdering his father, he was corrupted by his environment,' and

so on. He explained it all to me. He is going to put in a tinge of

Socialism, he says. But there, damn the fellow, he can put in a

tinge if he likes, I don't care. He can't bear Ivan, he hates him.

He's not fond of you, either. But I don't turn him out, for he is a

clever fellow. Awfully conceited, though. I said to him just now,' The

Karamazovs are not blackguards, but philosophers; for all true

Russians are philosophers, and though you've studied, you are not a

philosopher- you are a low fellow.' He laughed, so maliciously. And

I said to him, 'De ideabus non est disputandum.'* Isn't that rather

good? I can set up for being a classic, you see!" Mitya laughed

suddenly.



    * There's no disputing ideas.



    "Why is it all over with you? You said so just now," Alyosha

interposed.

    "Why is it all over with me? H'm!... The fact of it is... if you

take it as a whole, I am sorry to lose God- that's why it is."

    "What do you mean by 'sorry to lose God'?"

    "Imagine: inside, in the nerves, in the head- that is, these

nerves are there in the brain... (damn them!) there are sort of little

tails, the little tails of those nerves, and as soon as they begin

quivering... that is, you see, I look at something with my eyes and

then they begin quivering, those little tails... and when they quiver,

then an image appears... it doesn't appear at once, but an instant,

a second, passes... and then something like a moment appears; that is,

not a moment- devil take the moment!- but an image; that is, an

object, or an action, damn it! That's why I see and then think,

because of those tails, not at all because I've got a soul, and that I

am some sort of image and likeness. All that is nonsense! Rakitin

explained it all to me yesterday, brother, and it simply bowled me

over. It's magnificent, Alyosha, this science! A new man's arising-

that I understand.... And yet I am sorry to lose God!"

    "Well, that's a good thing, anyway," said Alyosha.

    "That I am sorry to lose God? It's chemistry, brother,

chemistry! There's no help for it, your reverence, you must make way

for chemistry. And Rakitin does dislike God. Ough! doesn't he

dislike Him! That's the sore point with all of them. But they

conceal it. They tell lies. They pretend. 'Will you preach this in

your reviews?' I asked him. 'Oh, well, if I did it openly, they

won't let it through, 'he said. He laughed. 'But what will become of

men then?' I asked him, 'without God and immortal life? All things are

lawful then, they can do what they like?' 'Didn't you know?' he said

laughing, 'a clever man can do what he likes,' he said. 'A clever

man knows his way about, but you've put your foot in it, committing

a murder, and now you are rotting in prison.' He says that to my face!

A regular pig! I used to kick such people out, but now I listen to

them. He talks a lot of sense, too. Writes well. He began reading me

an article last week. I copied out three lines of it. Wait a minute.

Here it is."

    Mitya hurriedly pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket and

read:

    "'In order to determine this question, it is above all essential

to put one's personality in contradiction to one's reality.' Do you

understand that?"

    "No, I don't," said Alyosha. He looked at Mitya and listened to

him with curiosity.

    "I don't understand either. It's dark and obscure, but

intellectual. 'Everyone writes like that now,' he says, 'it's the

effect of their environment.' They are afraid of the environment. He

writes poetry, too, the rascal. He's written in honour of Madame

Hohlakov's foot. Ha ha ha!"

    "I've heard about it," said Alyosha.

    "Have you? And have you heard the poem?"

    "No."

    "I've got it. Here it is. I'll read it to you. You don't know- I

haven't told you- there's quite a story about it. He's a rascal! Three

weeks ago he began to tease me. 'You've got yourself into a mess, like

a fool, for the sake of three thousand, but I'm going to collar a

hundred and fifty thousand. I am going to marry a widow and buy a

house in Petersburg.' And he told me he was courting Madame

Hohlakov. She hadn't much brains in her youth, and now at forty she

has lost what she had. 'But she's awfully sentimental,' he says;

'that's how I shall get hold of her. When I marry her, I shall take

her to Petersburg and there I shall start a newspaper.' And his

mouth was simply watering, the beast, not for the widow, but for the

hundred and fifty thousand. And he made me believe it. He came to

see me every day. 'She is coming round,' he declared. He was beaming

with delight. And then, all of a sudden, he was turned out of the

house. Perhotin's carrying everything before him, bravo! I could

kiss the silly old noodle for turning him out of the house. And he had

written this doggerel. 'It's the first time I've soiled my hands

with writing poetry,' he said. 'It's to win her heart, so it's in a

good cause. When I get hold of the silly woman's fortune, I can be

of great social utility.' They have this social justification for

every nasty thing they do! 'Anyway it's better than your Pushkin's

poetry,' he said, 'for I've managed to advocate enlightenment even

in that.' I understand what he means about Pushkin, I quite see

that, if he really was a man of talent and only wrote about women's

feet. But wasn't Rakitin stuck up about his doggerel! The vanity of

these fellows! 'On the convalescence of the swollen foot of the object

of my affections'- he thought of that for a title. He's a waggish

fellow.



                   A captivating little foot,

                   Though swollen and red and tender!

                   The doctors come and plasters put,

                   But still they cannot mend her.



                   Yet, 'tis not for her foot I dread-

                   A theme for Pushkin's muse more fit-

                   It's not her foot, it is her head:

                   I tremble for her loss of wit!



                   For as her foot swells, strange to say,

                   Her intellect is on the wane-

                   Oh, for some remedy I pray

                   That may restore both foot and brain!



He is a pig, a regular pig, but he's very arch, the rascal! And he

really has put in a progressive idea. And wasn't he angry when she

kicked him out! He was gnashing his teeth!"

    "He's taken his revenge already," said Alyosha. "He's written a

paragraph about Madame Hohlakov."

    And Alyosha told him briefly about the paragraph in Gossip.

    "That's his doing, that's his doing!" Mitya assented, frowning.

"That's him! These paragraphs... I know... the insulting things that

have been written about Grushenka, for instance.... And about Katya,

too.... H'm!

    He walked across the room with a harassed air.

    "Brother, I cannot stay long," Alyosha said, after a pause.

"To-morrow will be a great and awful day for you, the judgment of

God will be accomplished... I am amazed at you, you walk about here,

talking of I don't know what..."

    "No, don't be amazed at me," Mitya broke in warmly. "Am I to

talk of that stinking dog? Of the murderer? We've talked enough of

him. I don't want to say more of the stinking son of Stinking

Lizaveta! God will kill him, you will see. Hush!"

    He went up to Alyosha excitedly and kissed him. His eyes glowed.

    "Rakitin wouldn't understand it," he began in a sort of

exaltation; "but you, you'll understand it all. That's why I was

thirsting for you. You see, there's so much I've been wanting to

tell you for ever so long, here, within these peeling walls, but I

haven't said a word about what matters most; the moment never seems to

have come. Now I can wait no longer. I must pour out my heart to

you. Brother, these last two months I've found in myself a new man.

A new man has risen up in me. He was hidden in me, but would never

have come to the surface, if it hadn't been for this blow from heaven.

I am afraid! And what do I care if I spend twenty years in the

mines, breaking ore with a hammer? I am not a bit afraid of that- it's

something else I am afraid of now: that that new man may leave me.

Even there, in the mines, underground, I may find a human heart in

another convict and murderer by my side, and I may make friends with

him, for even there one may live and love and suffer. One may thaw and

revive a frozen heart in that convict, one may wait upon him for

years, and at last bring up from the dark depths a lofty soul, a

feeling, suffering creature; one may bring forth an angel, create a

hero! There are so many of them, hundreds of them, and we are all to

blame for them. Why was it I dreamed of that 'babe' at such a

moment? 'Why is the babe so poor?' That was a sign to me at that

moment. It's for the babe I'm going. Because we are all responsible

for all. For all the 'babes,' for there are big children as well as

little children All are 'babes.' I go for all, because someone must go

for all. I didn't kill father, but I've got to go. I accept it. It's

all come to me here, here, within these peeling walls. There are

numbers of them there, hundreds of them underground, with hammers in

their hands. Oh, yes, we shall be in chains and there will be no

freedom, but then, in our great sorrow, we shall rise again to joy,

without which man cannot live nor God exist, for God gives joy: it's

His privilege- a grand one. Ah, man should be dissolved in prayer!

What should I be underground there without God? Rakitin's laughing! If

they drive God from the earth, we shall shelter Him underground. One

cannot exist in prison without God; it's even more impossible than out

of prison. And then we men underground will sing from the bowels of

the earth a glorious hymn to God, with Whom is joy. Hail to God and

His joy! I love Him!"

    Mitya was almost gasping for breath as he uttered his wild speech.

He turned pale, his lips quivered, and tears rolled down his cheeks.

    "Yes, life is full, there is life even underground," he began

again. "You wouldn't believe, Alexey, how I want to live now, what a

thirst for existence and consciousness has sprung up in me within

these peeling walls. Rakitin doesn't understand that; all he cares

about is building a house and letting flats. But I've been longing for

you. And what is suffering? I am not afraid of it, even if it were

beyond reckoning. I am not afraid of it now. I was afraid of it

before. Do you know, perhaps I won't answer at the trial at all....

And I seem to have such strength in me now, that I think I could stand

anything, any suffering, only to be able to say and to repeat to

myself every moment, 'I exist.' In thousands of agonies- I exist.

I'm tormented on the rack- but I exist! Though I sit alone on a

pillar- I exist! I see the sun, and if I don't see the sun, I know

it's there. And there's a whole life in that, in knowing that the

sun is there. Alyosha, my angel, all these philosophies are the

death of me. Damn them! Brother Ivan-"

    "What of brother Ivan?" interrupted Alyosha, but Mitya did not

hear.

    "You see, I never had any of these doubts before, but it was all

hidden away in me. It was perhaps just because ideas I did not

understand were surging up in me, that I used to drink and fight and

rage. It was to stifle them in myself, to still them, to smother them.

Ivan is not Rakitin, there is an idea in him. Ivan is a sphinx and

is silent; he is always silent. It's God that's worrying me. That's

the only thing that's worrying me. What if He doesn't exist? What if

Rakitin's right- that it's an idea made up by men? Then if He

doesn't exist, man is the chief of the earth, of the universe.

Magnificent! Only how is he going to be good without God? That's the

question. I always come back to that. For whom is man going to love

then? To whom will he be thankful? To whom will he sing the hymn?

Rakitin laughs. Rakitin says that one can love humanity without God.

Well, only a snivelling idiot can maintain that. I can't understand

it. Life's easy for Rakitin. 'You'd better think about the extension

of civic rights, or even of keeping down the price of meat. You will

show your love for humanity more simply and directly by that, than

by philosophy.' I answered him, 'Well, but you, without a God, are

more likely to raise the price of meat, if it suits you, and make a

rouble on every copeck.' He lost his temper. But after all, what is

goodness? Answer me that, Alexey. Goodness is one thing with me and

another with a Chinaman, so it's a relative thing. Or isn't it? Is

it not relative? A treacherous question! You won't laugh if I tell you

it's kept me awake two nights. I only wonder now how people can live

and think nothing about it. Vanity! Ivan has no God. He has an idea.

It's beyond me. But he is silent. I believe he is a Freemason. I asked

him, but he is silent. I wanted to drink from the springs of his soul-

he was silent. But once he did drop a word."

    "What did he say?" Alyosha took it up quickly.

    "I said to him, 'Then everything is lawful, if it is so?' He

frowned. 'Fyodor Pavlovitch, our papa,' he said, 'was a pig, but his

ideas were right enough.' That was what he dropped. That was all he

said. That was going one better than Rakitin."

    "Yes," Alyosha assented bitterly. "When was he with you?"

    "Of that later; now I must speak of something else. I have said

nothing about Ivan to you before. I put it off to the last. When my

business here is over and the verdict has been given, then I'll tell

you something. I'll tell you everything. We've something tremendous on

hand.... And you shall be my judge in it. But don't begin about that

now; be silent. You talk of to-morrow, of the trial; but, would you

believe it, I know nothing about it."

    "Have you talked to the counsel?"

    "What's the use of the counsel? I told him all about it. He's a

soft, city-bred rogue- a Bernard! But he doesn't believe me- not a bit

of it. Only imagine, he believes I did it. I see it. 'In that case,' I

asked him, 'why have you come to defend me?' Hang them all! They've

got a doctor down, too, want to prove I'm mad. I won't have that!

Katerina Ivanovna wants to do her 'duty' to the end, whatever the

strain!" Mitya smiled bitterly. "The cat! Hard-hearted creature! She

knows that I said of her at Mokroe that she was a woman of 'great

wrath.' They repeated it. Yes, the facts against me have grown

numerous as the sands of the sea. Grigory sticks to his point.

Grigory's honest, but a fool. Many people are honest because they

are fools: that's Rakitin's idea. Grigory's my enemy. And there are

some people who are better as foes than friends. I mean Katerina

Ivanovna. I am afraid, oh, I am afraid she will tell how she bowed

to the ground after that four thousand. She'll pay it back to the last

farthing. I don't want her sacrifice; they'll put me to shame at the

trial. I wonder how I can stand it. Go to her, Alyosha, ask her not to

speak of that in the court, can't you? But damn it all, it doesn't

matter! I shall get through somehow. I don't pity her. It's her own

doing. She deserves what she gets. I shall have my own story to

tell, Alexey." He smiled bitterly again. "Only... only Grusha, Grusha!

Good Lord! Why should she have such suffering to bear?" he exclaimed

suddenly, with tears. "Grusha's killing me; the thought of her's

killing me, killing me. She was with me just now..."

    "She told me she was very much grieved by you to-day."

    "I know. Confound my temper! It was jealousy. I was sorry, I

kissed her as she was going. I didn't ask her forgiveness."

    "Why didn't you?" exclaimed Alyosha.

    Suddenly Mitya laughed almost mirthfully.

    "God preserve you, my dear boy, from ever asking forgiveness for a

fault from a woman you love. From one you love especially, however

greatly you may have been in fault. For a woman- devil only knows what

to make of a woman! I know something about them, anyway. But try

acknowledging you are in fault to a woman. Say, 'I am sorry, forgive

me,' and a shower of reproaches will follow! Nothing will make her

forgive you simply and directly, she'll humble you to the dust,

bring forward things that have never happened, recall everything,

forget nothing, add something of her own, and only then forgive you.

And even the best, the best of them do it. She'll scrape up all the

scrapings and load them on your head. They are ready to flay you

alive, I tell you, every one of them, all these angels without whom we

cannot live! I tell you plainly and openly, dear boy, every decent man

ought to be under some woman's thumb. That's my conviction- not

conviction, but feeling. A man ought to be magnanimous, and it's no

disgrace to a man! No disgrace to a hero, not even a Caesar! But don't

ever beg her pardon all the same for anything. Remember that rule

given you by your brother Mitya, who's come to ruin through women. No,

I'd better make it up to Grusha somehow, without begging pardon. I

worship her, Alexey, worship her. Only she doesn't see it. No, she

still thinks I don't love her enough. And she tortures me, tortures me

with her love. The past was nothing! In the past it was only those

infernal curves of hers that tortured me, but now I've taken all her

soul into my soul and through her I've become a man myself. Will

they marry us? If they don't, I shall die of jealousy. I imagine

something every day.... What did she say to you about me?"

    Alyosha repeated all Grushenka had said to him that day. Mitya

listened, made him repeat things, and seemed pleased.

    "Then she is not angry at my being jealous?" he exclaimed. "She is

a regular woman! 'I've a fierce heart myself!' Ah, I love such

fierce hearts, though I can't bear anyone's being jealous of me. I

can't endure it. We shall fight. But I shall love her, I shall love

her infinitely. Will they marry us? Do they let convicts marry? That's

the question. And without her I can't exist..."

    Mitya walked frowning across the room. It was almost dark. He

suddenly seemed terribly worried.

    "So there's a secret, she says, a secret? We have got up a plot

against her, and Katya is mixed up in it, she thinks. No, my good

Grushenka, that's not it. You are very wide of the mark, in your

foolish feminine way. Alyosha, darling, well, here goes! I'll tell you

our secret!"

    He looked round, went close up quickly to Alyosha, who was

standing before him, and whispered to him with an air of mystery,

though in reality no one could hear them: the old warder was dozing in

the corner, and not a word could reach the ears of the soldiers on

guard.

    "I will tell you all our secret," Mitya whispered hurriedly. "I

meant to tell you later, for how could I decide on anything without

you? You are everything to me. Though I say that Ivan is superior to

us, you are my angel. It's your decision will decide it. Perhaps

it's you that is superior and not Ivan. You see, it's a question of

conscience, question of the higher conscience- the secret is so

important that I can't settle it myself, and I've put it off till I

could speak to you. But anyway it's too early to decide now, for we

must wait for the verdict. As soon as the verdict is given, you

shall decide my fate. Don't decide it now. I'll tell you now. You

listen, but don't decide. Stand and keep quiet. I won't tell you

everything. I'll only tell you the idea, without details, and you keep

quiet. Not a question, not a movement. You agree? But, goodness,

what shall I do with your eyes? I'm afraid your eyes will tell me your

decision, even if you don't speak. Oo! I'm afraid! Alyosha, listen!

Ivan suggests my escaping. I won't tell you the details: it's all been

thought out: it can all be arranged. Hush, don't decide. I should go

to America with Grusha. You know I can't live without Grusha! What

if they won't let her follow me to Siberia? Do they let convicts get

married? Ivan thinks not. And without Grusha what should I do there

underground with a hammer? I should only smash my skull with the

hammer! But, on the other hand, my conscience? I should have run

away from suffering. A sign has come, I reject the sign. I have a

way of salvation and I turn my back on it. Ivan says that in

America, 'with the goodwill,' I can be of more use than underground.

But what becomes of our hymn from underground? What's America? America

is vanity again! And there's a lot of swindling in America, too, I

expect. I should have run away from crucifixion! I tell you, you know,

Alexey, because you are the only person who can understand this.

There's no one else. It's folly, madness to others, all I've told

you of the hymn. They'll say I'm out of my mind or a fool. I am not

out of my mind and I am not a fool. Ivan understands about the hymn,

too. He understands, only he doesn't answer- he doesn't speak. He

doesn't believe in the hymn. Don't speak, don't speak. I see how you

look! You have already decided. Don't decide, spare me! I can't live

without Grusha. Wait till after the trial!"

    Mitya ended beside himself. He held Alyosha with both hands on his

shoulders, and his yearning, feverish eyes were fixed on his

brother's.

    "They don't let convicts marry, do they?" he repeated for the

third time in a supplicating voice.

    Alyosha listened with extreme surprise and was deeply moved.

    "Tell me one thing," he said. "Is Ivan very keen on it, and

whose idea was it?"

    "His, his, and he is very keen on it. He didn't come to see me

at first, then he suddenly came a week ago and he began about it

straight away. He is awfully keen on it. He doesn't ask me, but orders

me to escape. He doesn't doubt of my obeying him, though I showed

him all my heart as I have to you, and told him about the hymn, too.

He told me he'd arrange it; he's found out about everything. But of

that later. He's simply set on it. It's all a matter of money: he'll

pay ten thousand for escape and give me twenty thousand for America.

And he says we can arrange a magnificent escape for ten thousand."

    "And he told you on no account to tell me?" Alyosha asked again.

    "To tell no one, and especially not you; on no account to tell

you. He is afraid, no doubt, that you'll stand before me as my

conscience. Don't tell him I told you. Don't tell him, for anything."

    "You are right," Alyosha pronounced; "it's impossible to decide

anything before the trial is over. After the trial you'll decide of

yourself. Then you'll find that new man in yourself and he will

decide."

    "A new man, or a Bernard who'll decide a la Bernard, for I believe

I'm a contemptible Bernard myself," said Mitya, with a bitter grin.

    "But, brother, have you no hope then of being acquitted?"

    Mitya shrugged his shoulders nervously and shook his head.

    "Alyosha, darling, it's time you were going," he said, with a

sudden haste. "There's the superintendent shouting in the yard.

He'll be here directly. We are late; it's irregular. Embrace me

quickly. Kiss me! Sign me with the cross, darling, for the cross I

have to bear to-morrow."

    They embraced and kissed.

    "Ivan," said Mitya suddenly, "suggests my escaping; but, of

course, he believes I did it."

    A mournful smile came on to his lips.

    "Have you asked him whether he believes it?" asked Alyosha.

    "No, I haven't. I wanted to, but I couldn't. I hadn't the courage.

But I saw it from his eyes. Well, good-bye!"

    Once more they kissed hurriedly, and Alyosha was just going out,

when Mitya suddenly called him back.

    "Stand facing me! That's right!" And again he seized Alyosha,

putting both hands on his shoulders. His face became suddenly quite

pale, so that it was dreadfully apparent, even through the gathering

darkness. His lips twitched, his eyes fastened upon Alyosha.

    "Alyosha, tell me the whole truth, as you would before God. Do you

believe I did it? Do you, do you in yourself, believe it? The whole

truth, don't lie!" he cried desperately.

    Everything seemed heaving before Alyosha, and he felt something

like a stab at his heart.

    "Hush! What do you mean?" he faltered helplessly.

    "The whole truth, the whole, don't lie!" repeated Mitya.

    "I've never for one instant believed that you were the

murderer!" broke in a shaking voice from Alyosha's breast, and he

raised his right hand in the air, as though calling God to witness his

words.

    Mitya's whole face was lighted up with bliss.

    "Thank you!" he articulated slowly, as though letting a sigh

escape him after fainting. "Now you have given me new life. Would

you believe it, till this moment I've been afraid to ask you, you,

even you. Well, go! You've given me strength for to-morrow. God

bless you! Come, go along! Love Ivan!" was Mitya's last word.

    Alyosha went out in tears. Such distrustfulness in Mitya, such

lack of confidence even to him, to Alyosha- all this suddenly opened

before Alyosha an unsuspected depth of hopeless grief and despair in

the soul of his unhappy brother. Intense, infinite compassion

overwhelmed him instantly. There was a poignant ache in his torn

heart. "Love Ivan"- he suddenly recalled Mitya's words. And he was

going to Ivan. He badly wanted to see Ivan all day. He was as much

worried about Ivan as about Mitya, and more than ever now.