The Brother's Karamazov (The Unabridged Garnett Translation). Fyodor Dostoevsky

exceedingly unhappy!”

      “But what’s the matter with you, mamma, darling?”

      “Ah, your caprices, Lise, your fidgetiness, your illness, that awful night of fever, that awful everlasting Herzenstube, everlasting, everlasting, that’s the worst of it! Everything, in fact, everything. . . . Even that miracle, too! Oh, how it has upset me, how it has shattered me, that miracle, dear Alexey Fyodorovitch! And that tragedy in the drawing-room, it’s more than I can bear, I warn you. I can’t bear it. A comedy, perhaps, not a tragedy. Tell me, will Father Zossima live till to-morrow, will he? Oh, my God! What is happening to me? Every minute I close my eyes and see that it’s all nonsense, all nonsense.”

      “I should be very grateful,” Alyosha interrupted suddenly, “if you could give me a clean rag to bind up my finger with. I have hurt it, and it’s very painful.”

      Alyosha unbound his bitten finger. The handkerchief was soaked with blood. Madame Hohlakov screamed and shut her eyes.

      “Good heavens, what a wound, how awful!

      But as soon as Lise saw Alyosha’s finger through the crack, she flung the door wide open.

      “Come, come here,” she cried, imperiously. “No nonsense now! Good heavens, why did you stand there saying nothing about it all this time? He might have bled to death, mamma! How did you do it? Water, water! You must wash it first of all, simply hold it in cold water to stop the pain, and keep it there, keep it there. . . . Make haste, mamma, some water in a slop-basin. But do make haste,” she finished nervously. She was quite frightened at the sight of Alyosha’s wound.

      “Shouldn’t we send for Herzenstube?” cried Madame Hohlakov.

      “Mamma, you’ll be the death of me. Your Herzenstube will come and say that he can make nothing of it! Water, water! Mamma, for goodness’ sake go yourself and hurry Yulia, she is such a slowcoach and never can come quickly! Make haste, mamma, or I shall die.”

      “Why, it’s nothing much,” cried Alyosha, frightened at this alarm.

      Yulia ran in with water and Alyosha put his finger in it.

      “Some lint, mamma, for mercy’s sake, bring some lint and that muddy caustic lotion for wounds, what’s it called? We’ve got some. You know where the bottle is, mamma; it’s in your bedroom in the right-hand cupboard, there’s a big bottle of it there with the lint.”

      “I’ll bring everything in a minute, Lise, only don’t scream and don’t fuss. You see how bravely Alexey Fyodorovitch bears it. Where did you get such a dreadful wound, Alexey Fyodorovitch?”

      Madame Hohlakov hastened away. This was all Lise was waiting for.

      “First of all, answer the question, where did you get hurt like this?” she asked Alyosha, quickly. “And then I’ll talk to you about something quite different. Well?”

      Instinctively feeling that the time of her mother’s absence was precious for her, Alyosha hastened to tell her of his enigmatic meeting with the school boys in the fewest words possible. Lise clasped her hands at his story.

      “How can you, and in that dress too, associate with schoolboys?” she cried angrily, as though she had a right to control him. “You are nothing but a boy yourself if you can do that, a perfect boy! But you must find out for me about that horrid boy and tell me all about it, for there’s some mystery in it. Now for the second thing, but first a question: does the pain prevent you talking about utterly unimportant things, but talking sensibly?”

      “Of course not, and I don’t feel much pain now.”

      “That’s because your finger is in the water. It must be changed directly, for it will get warm in a minute. Yulia, bring some ice from the cellar and another basin of water. Now she is gone, I can speak; will you give me the letter I sent you yesterday, dear Alexey Fyodorovitch — be quick, for mamma will be back in a minute and I don’t want — ”

      “I haven’t got the letter.”

      “That’s not true, you have. I knew you would say that. You’ve got it in that pocket. I’ve been regretting that joke all night. Give me back the letter at once, give it me.”

      “I’ve left it at home.”

      “But you can’t consider me as a child, a little girl, after that silly joke! I beg your pardon for that silliness, but you must bring me the letter, if you really haven’t got it — bring to-day, you must, you must.”

      “To-day I can’t possibly, for I am going back to the monastery and I shan’t come and see you for the next two days — three or four perhaps — for Father Zossima — ”

      “Four days, what nonsense! Listen. Did you laugh at me very much?”

      “I didn’t laugh at all.”

      “Why not?”

      “Because I believed all you said.”

      “You are insulting me!”

      “Not at all. As soon as I read it, I thought that all that would come to pass, for as soon as Father Zossima dies, I am to leave the monastery. Then I shall go back and finish my studies, and when you reach the legal age we will be married. I shall love you. Though I haven’t had time to think about it, I believe I couldn’t find a better wife than you, and Father Zossima tells me I must marry.”

      “But I am a cripple, wheeled about in a chair,” laughed Lise, flushing crimson.

      “I’ll wheel you about myself, but I’m sure you’ll get well by then.”

      “But you are mad,” said Lise, nervously, “to make all this nonsense out of a joke! Here’s mamma, very a propos, perhaps. Mamma, how slow you always are, how can you be so long! And here’s Yulia with the ice!

      “Oh, Lise, don’t scream, above all things don’t scream. That scream drives me . . . How can I help it when you put the lint in another place? I’ve been hunting and hunting — I do believe you did it on purpose.”

      “But I couldn’t tell that he would come with a bad finger, or else perhaps I might have done it on purpose. My darling mamma, you begin to say really witty things.”

      “Never mind my being witty, but I must say you show nice feeling for Alexey Fyodorovitch’s sufferings! Oh, my dear Alexey Fyodorovitch, what’s killing me is no one thing in particular, not Herzenstube, but everything together, that’s what is too much for me.”

      “That’s enough, mamma, enough about Herzenstube,” Lise laughed gaily. “Make haste with the lint and the lotion, mamma. That’s simply Goulard’s water, Alexey Fyodorovitch, I remember the name now, but it’s a splendid lotion. Would you believe it, Mamma, on the way here he had a fight with the boys in the street, and it was a boy bit his finger, isn’t he a child, a child himself? Is he fit to be married after that? For only fancy, he wants to be married, mamma. Just think of him married, wouldn’t it be funny, wouldn’t it be awful?”

      And Lise kept laughing her thin hysterical giggle, looking slyly at Alyosha.

      “But why married, Lise? What makes you talk of such a thing? It’s quite out of place and perhaps the boy was rabid.”

      “Why, mamma! As though there were rabid boys!”

      “Why not, Lise, as though I had said something stupid! Your boy might have been bitten by a mad dog and he would become mad and bite anyone near him. How well she has bandaged it, Alexey Fyodorovitch! I couldn’t have done it. Do you still feel the pain?”

      “It’s nothing much now.”

      “You don’t feel afraid of water?” asked Lise.

      “Come, that’s enough, Lise, perhaps I really was rather too quick talking of the boy being rabid, and you pounced upon it at once. Katerina Ivanovna has only just heard that you are here, Alexey Fyodorovitch, she simply rushed at me, she’s dying to see you, dying!”