The Possessed (The Devils) - The Original Classic Edition. Dostoyevsky Fyodor

The other world; only the other world."

       "Are there no atheists, such as don't believe in the other world at all?" Again he did not answer.

       "You judge from yourself, perhaps."

       "Every one cannot judge except from himself," he said, reddening. "There will be full freedom when it will be just the same to live or not to live. That's the goal for all."

       "The goal? But perhaps no one will care to live then?" "No one," he pronounced with decision.

       "Man fears death because he loves life. That's how I understand it," I observed, "and that's determined by nature."

       "That's abject; and that's where the deception comes in." His eyes flashed. "Life is pain, life is terror, and man is unhappy. Now all

       is pain and terror. Now man loves life, because he loves pain and terror, and so they have done according. Life is given now for pain and terror, and that's the deception. Now man is not yet what he will be. There will be a new man, happy and proud. For whom it will be the same to live or not to live, he will be the new man. He who will conquer pain and terror will himself be a god. And this God will not be."

       "Then this God does exist according to you?"

       "He does not exist, but He is. In the stone there is no pain, but in the fear of the stone is the pain. God is the pain of the fear of

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       death. He who will conquer pain and terror will become himself a god. Then there will be a new life, a new man; everything will

       be new... then they will divide history into two parts: from the gorilla to the annihilation of God, and from the annihilation of God to..."

       "To the gorilla?"

       "... To the transformation of the earth, and of man physically. Man will be God, and will be transformed physically, and the world will be transformed and things will be transformed and thoughts and all feelings. What do you think: will man be changed physically then?"

       "If it will be just the same living or not living, all will kill themselves, and perhaps that's what the change will be?"

       "That's no matter. They will kill deception. Every one who wants the supreme freedom must dare to kill himself. He who dares to kill himself has found out the secret of the deception. There is no freedom beyond; that is all, and there is nothing beyond. He who dares kill himself is God. Now every one can do so that there shall be no God and shall be nothing. But no one has once done it yet."

       "There have been millions of suicides."

       "But always not for that; always with terror and not for that object. Not to kill fear. He who kills himself only to kill fear will become a god at once."

       "He won't have time, perhaps," I observed.

       "That's no matter," he answered softly, with calm pride, almost disdain. "I'm sorry that you seem to be laughing," he added half a minute later.

       "It seems strange to me that you were so irritable this morning and are now so calm, though you speak with warmth."

       "This morning? It was funny this morning," he answered with a smile. "I don't like scolding, and I never laugh," he added mournfully.

       "Yes, you don't spend your nights very cheerfully over your tea." I got up and took my cap.

       "You think not?" he smiled with some surprise. "Why? No, I... I don't know." He was suddenly confused. "I know not how it is with the others, and I feel that I cannot do as others. Everybody thinks and then at once thinks of something else. I can't think of something else. I think all my life of one thing. God has tormented me all my life," he ended up suddenly with astonishing expansiveness.

       "And tell me, if I may ask, why is it you speak Russian not quite correctly? Surely you haven't forgotten it after five years abroad?" "Don't I speak correctly? I don't know. No, it's not because of abroad. I have talked like that all my life... it's no matter to me." "Another question, a more delicate one. I quite believe you that you're disinclined to meet people and talk very little. Why have you

       talked to me now?"

       "To you? This morning you sat so nicely and you... but it's all no matter... you are like my brother, very much, extremely," he added,

       flushing. "He has been dead seven years. He was older, very, very much." "I suppose he had a great influence on your way of thinking?"

       "N-no. He said little; he said nothing. I'll give your note."

       He saw me to the gate with a lantern, to lock it after me. "Of course he's mad," I decided. In the gateway I met with another encounter.

       IX

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       I had only just lifted my leg over the high barrier across the bottom of the gateway, when suddenly a strong hand clutched at my chest.

       "Who's this?" roared a voice, "a friend or an enemy? Own up!"

       "He's one of us; one of us!" Liputin's voice squealed near by. "It's Mr. G----v, a young man of classical education, in touch with the

       highest society."

       "I love him if he's in society, clas-si... that means he's high-ly ed-u-cated. The retired Captain Ignat Lebyadkin, at the service of the world and his friends... if they're true ones, if they're true ones, the scoundrels."

       Captain Lebyadkin, a stout, fleshy man over six feet in height, with curly hair and a red face, was so extremely drunk that he could scarcely stand up before me, and articulated with difficulty. I had seen him before, however, in the distance.

       "And this one!" he roared again, noticing Kirillov, who was still standing with the lantern; he raised his fist, but let it fall again at

       once.

       "I forgive you for your learning! Ignat Lebyadkin--high-ly ed-u-cated....

       'A bomb of love with stinging smart

       Exploded in Ignaty's heart. In anguish dire I weep again The arm that at Sevastopol

       I lost in bitter pain!'

       Not that I ever was at Sevastopol, or ever lost my arm, but you know what rhyme is." He pushed up to me with his ugly, tipsy face. "He is in a hurry, he is going home!" Liputin tried to persuade him. "He'll tell Lizaveta Nikolaevna tomorrow."

       "Lizaveta!" he yelled again. "Stay, don't go!

       A variation:

       'Among the Amazons a star, Upon her steed she flashes by, And smiles upon me from afar, The child of aris-to-cra-cy!

       To a Starry Amazon.'

       You know that's a hymn. It's a hymn, if you're not an ass! The duffers, they don't understand! Stay!" He caught hold of my coat, though I pulled myself away with all my might.

       "Tell her I'm a knight and the soul of honour, and as for that Dasha... I'd pick her up and chuck her out.... She's only a serf, she daren't..."

       At this point he fell down, for I pulled myself violently out of his hands and ran into the street. Liputin clung on to me.

       "Alexey Nilitch will pick him up. Do you know what I've just found out from him?" he babbled in desperate haste. "Did you hear his verses? He's sealed those verses to the 'Starry Amazon' in an envelope and is going to send them tomorrow to Lizaveta Nikolaevna, signed with his name in full. What a fellow!"

       "I bet you suggested it to him yourself."

       "You'll lose your bet," laughed Liputin. "He's in love, in love like a cat, and do you know it began with hatred. He hated Lizaveta Nikolaevna at first so much, for riding on horseback that he almost swore aloud at her in the street. Yes, he did abuse her! Only the day before yesterday he swore at her when she rode by--luckily she didn't hear. And, suddenly, to-day--poetry! Do you know he means to risk a proposal? Seriously! Seriously!"

       "I wonder at you, Liputin; whenever there's anything nasty going on you're always on the spot taking a leading part in it," I said angrily.

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       "You're going rather far, Mr. G----v. Isn't your poor little heart quaking, perhaps, in terror of a rival?"