“She told me. She was very upset by you today.”
“I know. Devil take me and my character. I got jealous! I repented as I was letting her go, I kissed her. I didn’t ask her forgiveness.”
“Why didn’t you?” exclaimed Alyosha.
Mitya suddenly laughed almost gaily.
“God save you, dear boy, from ever asking forgiveness for your guilt from a woman you love! Especially from a woman you love, no matter how guilty you are before her! Because a woman—devil knows what a woman is, brother, I’m a good judge of that at least! Try going and confessing your guilt to her; say, ‘I’m guilty, forgive me, pardon me,’ and right then and there you’ll be showered with reproaches! She’ll never forgive you directly and simply, she’ll humble you in the dust, she’ll take away things that weren’t even there, she’ll take everything, she’ll forget nothing, she’ll add things of her own, and only then will she forgive you. And that’s the best of them, the best! She’ll scrape up the last scraps and heap them on your head—such bloodthirstiness just sits in them, I tell you, in all of them, to the last one, those angels without whom it’s even impossible for us to live! You see, my dear, I’ll tell you frankly and simply: every decent man ought to be under the heel of some woman at least. That’s my conviction; not a conviction, but a feeling. A man ought to be magnanimous, and that’s no stain on a man. It’s no stain even on a hero, even on Caesar! Well, but still don’t go asking forgiveness, not ever, not for anything. Remember that rule: it was taught you by your brother Mitya, who perished because of women. No, I’d better restore myself in Grusha’s eyes some other way, without forgiveness. I revere her, Alexei, revere her! Only she doesn’t see it, no, it’s still not enough love for her. And she frets me, she frets me with her love. Before was nothing! Before it was just her infernal curves that fretted me, but now I’ve taken her whole soul into my soul, and through her I’ve become a man! Will they let us be married? Without that I’ll die of jealousy. I keep imagining something every day ... What did she say to you about me?”
Alyosha repeated everything Grushenka had told him earlier. Mitya listened closely, asked about many things, and was left feeling pleased.
“So she’s not angry that I’m jealous,” he exclaimed. “A real woman! ‘I have a cruel heart myself.’ Oof, I love such cruel women, though I can’t stand it when anyone’s jealous over me, I can’t stand it! We will fight. But love—oh, I will love her infinitely. Will they let us be married? Do they let convicts marry? A good question. And I can’t live without her...”
Mitya walked glumly around the room. The room was getting almost dark. Suddenly he became terribly worried.
“A secret, so she says there’s a secret? She says the three of us are conspiring against her, and she says ‘Katka’ is mixed up in it? No, Grushenka old girl, that’s not it. You’ve missed your mark this time, you’ve missed your silly female mark! Alyosha, darling—ah, well, why not? I’ll reveal our secret to you!”
He looked around, quickly went up to Alyosha, who was standing before him, and whispered to him with a mysterious air, though in fact no one could hear them: the old guard was nodding on his bench in the corner, and not a word could reach the sentries.
“I’ll reveal our whole secret to you!” Mitya began whispering hastily. “I was going to reveal it later, because how could I decide to do anything without you? You are everything to me. Though I say that Ivan is the highest of us, you are my cherub. Only your decision will decide it. Maybe it’s you who are the highest man, and not Ivan. You see, here it’s a matter of conscience, a matter of the highest conscience—a secret that is so important that I cannot deal with it myself and have put everything off for you. And it’s still too early to decide, because the sentence must come first: the sentence will be given, and then you will decide my fate. Don’t decide now: I’ll tell you now, you will listen, but don’t decide. Stand and be silent. I won’t reveal everything to you. I’ll tell you only the idea, without details, and you be silent. Not a question, not a movement, agreed? But anyway, Lord, what am I going to do about your eyes? I’m afraid your eyes will tell me your decision even if you are silent. Oof, I’m afraid! Alyosha, listen: brother Ivan suggests that I escape. I’m not telling you the details: everything has been foreseen, everything can be arranged. Be silent, don’t decide. To America with Grusha. I really can’t live without Grusha! What if they won’t let her join me there? Do they let convicts marry? Brother Ivan says they don’t. And without Grusha what will I do under the ground with my sledgehammer? I’ll take the sledgehammer and smash my own head with it! On the other hand, what about my conscience? I’ll be running away from suffering! I was shown a path—and I rejected the path; there was a way of purification—I did an about-face. Ivan says that a man ‘with good inclinations’ can be of more use in America than under the ground. Well, and where will our underground hymn take place? Forget America, America means vanity again! And there’s a lot of swindling in America, too, I think. To run away from crucifixion! I’m talking to you, Alexei, because you alone can understand this, and no one else, for the others it’s foolishness, raving—all that I was telling you about the hymn. They’ll say, he’s lost his mind, or else he’s a fool. But I haven’t lost my mind, and I’m not a fool either. Ivan, too, understands about the hymn, oof, he understands—only he doesn’t respond to it, he’s silent. He doesn’t believe in the hymn. Don’t speak, don’t speak: I see your look: you’ve already decided! Don’t decide, spare me, I can’t live without Grusha, wait for the trial!”
Mitya ended as if in a frenzy. He held Alyosha by the shoulders with both hands, and simply fixed his eyes with his yearning, feverish look.
“Do they let convicts marry?” he repeated for the third time, in a pleading voice.
Alyosha listened with extreme surprise and was deeply shaken.
“Tell me one thing,” he said, “does Ivan insist on it very much, and who was the first to come up with it?”
“He, he came up with it, he insists on it! For a while he wouldn’t come to see me, and then he suddenly came a week ago and began straight off with it. He’s terribly insistent. He doesn’t ask, he orders. He has no doubt I’ll obey, though I turned my heart inside out for him, as I did for you, and talked about the hymn. He told me how he would arrange it, he’s gathered all the information, but of that later. He wants it to the point of hysterics. The main thing is the money: ten thousand for the escape, he says, and twenty thousand for America, and with ten thousand, he says, we’ll arrange a splendid escape.”
“And he asked you by no means to tell me?” Alyosha asked again.
“By no means to tell anyone, and you above alclass="underline" not to tell you for anything! He’s surely afraid that you’ll stand before me as my conscience. Don’t tell him I told you. Oof, don’t tell him!”
“You’re right,” Alyosha decided, “it’s impossible to decide before the sentence. After the trial you will decide yourself; you’ll find a new man in yourself then, and he will decide.”
“A new man, or a Bernard, and he will decide Bernard-wise! Because I think I’m a contemptible Bernard myself!” Mitya grinned bitterly.