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050 - Book Eight Chapter Four · Brothers Karamazov

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  Speaker 1: Chapter fifty of The Brothers Karam Itself by Fyodor Dostoyevsky,
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  Speaker 1: translated by Constance Garnet. This LibriVox recording is in the
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  Speaker 1: public domain recording by Tony Addison, Chapter four in the dark.
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  Speaker 1: Where was he running? Where could she be except at
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  Speaker 1: Fyodor Pavlovitch's. She must have run straight to him from Samsonops.
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  Speaker 1: That was clear enough. The whole intrigue, the whole Deceit
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  Speaker 1: was evident. It all rushed whirling through his mind. He
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  Speaker 1: did not run to Marya Kondratyevna's. There was no need
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  Speaker 1: to go there, not the slightest need. He must raise
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  Speaker 1: no alarm. They would run and tell directly. Marya Kondratyevna
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  Speaker 1: was clearly in the plot. Smud dyre Cup too, he too,
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  Speaker 1: all had been bought over. He formed another plan of action.
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  Speaker 1: He ran a long way round Fayodor Pavlobich's house, crossing
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  Speaker 1: the lane running down Dmitrovsky Street, then over the little bridge,
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  Speaker 1: and so came straight to the deserted alley at the back,
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  Speaker 1: which was empty and uninhabited, with on one side the
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  Speaker 1: hurdle fence of a neighbor's kitchen. Garden on the other,
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  Speaker 1: the strong, high fence that ran all round Fyodor Pavlobich's garden.
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  Speaker 1: Here he chose a spot, apparently the very place where,
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  Speaker 1: according to the tradition, he knew Lizavetta had once climbed
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  Speaker 1: over it. If she could climb over it, the thought
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  Speaker 1: god knows why, occurred to him, surely I can. He did,
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  Speaker 1: in fact jump up and instantly contrived to catch hold
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  Speaker 1: at the top of the fence. Then he vigorously pulled
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  Speaker 1: himself up and sat astride on it. Close By in
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  Speaker 1: the garden stood the bathause. But from the fence he
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  Speaker 1: could see the lighted windows of the house too. Yes,
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  Speaker 1: the old man's bedroom is lighted up. She's there. And
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  Speaker 1: he leaped from the fence into the garden. Though he
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  Speaker 1: knew Grigory was ill and very likely Smerdyakov too, and
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  Speaker 1: that there was no one to hear him, he instinctively
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  Speaker 1: hid himself, stood still and began to listen. But there
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  Speaker 1: was dead silence on all sides, and as though of design,
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  Speaker 1: complete stillness, not the slightest breath of wind, and not
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  Speaker 1: but the whispering silence. The line, for some reason rose
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  Speaker 1: to his mind, if only no one heard me jump
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  Speaker 1: over the fence, I think. Not standing still for a minute,
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  Speaker 1: he walked softly over the grass in the garden, avoiding
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  Speaker 1: the trees and shrubs. He walked slowly, creeping stealthily at
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  Speaker 1: every step, listening to his own footsteps. It took him
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  Speaker 1: five minutes to reach the lighted window. He remembered that
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  Speaker 1: just under the window there were several thick and high
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  Speaker 1: bushes of elder and whitebeam. The door from the house
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  Speaker 1: into the garden on the left hand side was shut.
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  Speaker 1: He had carefully looked on purpose to see in passing.
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  Speaker 1: At last he reached the bushes and hid behind them.
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  Speaker 1: He held his breath. I must wait now, he thought,
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  Speaker 1: to reassure them, in case they heard my footsteps and
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  Speaker 1: are listening. If only I don't cough or sneeze. He
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  Speaker 1: waited two minutes. His heart was beating violently, and at
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  Speaker 1: moments he could scarcely breathe. No, this throbbing at my
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  Speaker 1: heart won't stop, he thought, I can't wait any longer.
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  Speaker 1: He was standing behind a bush in the shadow. The
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  Speaker 1: light of the window fell on the front part of
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  Speaker 1: the bush. How red the white beam berries art? He murmured,
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  Speaker 1: not knowing why. Softly and noiselessly, step by step, he
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  Speaker 1: approached the window and raised himself on tiptoe. All Fyodor
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  Speaker 1: Pavlovitch's bedroom lay open before him. It was not a
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  Speaker 1: large room and was divided in two parts by a
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  Speaker 1: red screen Chinese, as Fyodor Pavlovitch used to call it.
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  Speaker 1: The word Chinese flashed into Mitya's mind. And behind the
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  Speaker 1: screen is Grushenka, thought Mitya. He began watching Fyodor Pavlovitch,
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  Speaker 1: who was wearing his new striped silk dressing gown, which
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  Speaker 1: Mitya had never seen, and a silk cord with tassels
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  Speaker 1: round the waist. A clean and deified shirt of fine
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  Speaker 1: linen with gold studs peeped out under the collar of
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  Speaker 1: the dressing gown. On his head, Fyodor Pavlovitch had the
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  Speaker 1: same red bandage which Alyosha had seen. He has got
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  Speaker 1: himself up, thought Mitya. His father was standing near the window,
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  Speaker 1: apparently lost in thought. Suddenly he jerked up his head,
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  Speaker 1: listened a moment, and, hearing nothing, went up to the table,
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  Speaker 1: poured out half a glass of brandy from a decanter
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  Speaker 1: and drank it up. Then he uttered a deep sigh again,
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  Speaker 1: stood still a moment walked carelessly up to the looking
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  Speaker 1: glass on the wall. With his right hand, raised the
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  Speaker 1: red bandage on his forehet a little, and began examining
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  Speaker 1: his bruises and scars, which had not yet disappeared. He's alone,
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  Speaker 1: thought Mitya. In all probability, he's alone. Fyodor Pavlovitch moved
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  Speaker 1: away from the looking glass, turned suddenly to the window
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  Speaker 1: and looked at Mitya instantly stepped away into the shadow.
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  Speaker 1: She may be there behind the screen. Perhaps she's asleep
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  Speaker 1: by now, he thought, with a pang at his heart.
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  Speaker 1: Fyodor Pavlovitch moved away from the window. He's looking for
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  Speaker 1: her out of the window. So she's not there. Why
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  Speaker 1: should he stare out into the dark. He's wild with impatience.
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  Speaker 1: Mitya stepped back at once and fell to gazing in
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  Speaker 1: at the window again. The old man was sitting down
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  Speaker 1: at the table, apparently disappointed. At last, He put his
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  Speaker 1: elbow on the table and laid his right cheek against
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  Speaker 1: his hand. Mitya watched him eagerly. He's alone, he's alone,
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  Speaker 1: he repeated again. If she were here, his face would
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  Speaker 1: be different. Strange to say, a queer, irrational vexation rose
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  Speaker 1: up in his heart that she was not there. It's
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  Speaker 1: not that she's not here, he explained to himself immediately,
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  Speaker 1: but that I can't tell her certain whether she is
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  Speaker 1: or not. Mitya remembered afterwards that his mind was at
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  Speaker 1: that moment exceptionally clear, that he took in everything to
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  Speaker 1: the slightest detail and missed no point, but a feeling
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  Speaker 1: of misery, the misery of uncertainty and indecision was growing
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  Speaker 1: in his heart with every instant. Is she here or not?
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  Speaker 1: The angry doubt filled his heart, and suddenly, making up
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  Speaker 1: his mind, he put out his hand and softly knocked
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  Speaker 1: on the window Frain. He knocked the signal the old
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  Speaker 1: man had agreed upon with Smadayakov, twice slowly, and then
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  Speaker 1: three times more quickly, the signal that meant Grushenka is here.
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  Speaker 1: The old man started, jerked up his head and jumping
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  Speaker 1: up quickly, ran to the window. Mitya slipped away into
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  Speaker 1: the shadow. Fyodor Pavlovitch opened the window and thrust his
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  Speaker 1: whole head out. Grushenka, is it you? Is it you?
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  Speaker 1: He said, in a sort of trembling half whisper, Where
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  Speaker 1: are you, my angel? Where are you? He was fearfully
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  Speaker 1: agitated and breathless. He's alone. Mitya decided, where are you?
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  Speaker 1: Cried the old man again, and he thrust his head
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  Speaker 1: out farther, thrust it out to the shoulders, gazing in
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  Speaker 1: all directions right and left. Come here, I've a little
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  Speaker 1: present for you. Come I'll show you, he means the
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  Speaker 1: three thousand, thought Mitya, But where are you? Are you
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  Speaker 1: at the door? I'll open it directly, And the old
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  Speaker 1: man almost climbed out of the window, peering out to
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  Speaker 1: the right, where there was a door into the garden,
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  Speaker 1: trying to see into the darkness. In another second, he
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  Speaker 1: would certainly have run out to open the door, without
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  Speaker 1: waiting for Grushenka's answer. Mitya looked at him from the
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  Speaker 1: side without stirring. The old man's profile that he loathed.
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  Speaker 1: So his pendent adam apple, his hook nose, his lips
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  Speaker 1: that smiled in greedy expectation were all brightly lighted up
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  Speaker 1: by the slanting lump light falling on the left from
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  Speaker 1: the room. A horrible fury of hatred suddenly surged up
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  Speaker 1: in Mitscha's heart. There he was his rival, the man
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  Speaker 1: who had tormented him, had ruined his life. It was
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  Speaker 1: a rush of that sudden, furious, revengeful anger of which
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  Speaker 1: he had spoken as though foreseeing it, to Alyosha four
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  Speaker 1: days ago in the arbor, when in answer to Alyosha's question,
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  Speaker 1: how can you say you'll kill a father? I don't know,
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  Speaker 1: I don't know, he had said, Then perhaps I shall
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  Speaker 1: not kill him, Perhaps I shall. I'm afraid he'll suddenly
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  Speaker 1: be so loathsome to me at that moment. I hate
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  Speaker 1: his double chin, his nose, his eyes, his shameless grin.
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  Speaker 1: I feel a personal repulsion. That's what I'm afraid of.
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  Speaker 1: That's what may be too much for me. This personal
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  Speaker 1: repulsion was growing unendurable. Mitya was beside himself. He suddenly
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  Speaker 1: pulled the brass puzzle out of his pocket. God was
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  Speaker 1: watching over me, then, Mitya himself said afterwards, at that
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  Speaker 1: very moment, Grigory waked up on his bed of sickness.
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  Speaker 1: Earlier in the evening, he had undergone the treatment which
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  Speaker 1: Smerdyakov had described to Ivan. He had rubbed himself all
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  Speaker 1: over with vodka mixed with a secret very strong decay,
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  Speaker 1: had drunk what was left of the mixture, while his
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  Speaker 1: wife repeated a certain prayer over him, after which he
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  Speaker 1: had gone to bed. Marfa Ignatyevna had tasted the stuff too, and,
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  Speaker 1: being unused to strong drink, slept like the dead beside
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  Speaker 1: her husband. But Grigory waked up in the night quite suddenly,
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  Speaker 1: and after a moment's reflection, though he immediately felt a
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  Speaker 1: sharp pain in his bag, he sat up in bed.
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  Speaker 1: Then he deliberated again, got up and dressed hurriedly. Perhaps
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  Speaker 1: his conscience was uneasy at the thought of sleeping while
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  Speaker 1: the house was unguarded in such perilous times. Smerdyakov, exhausted
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  Speaker 1: by his fit, lay motionless in the next room. Marfa
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  Speaker 1: Ignatyevna did not stir the steps, being too much for
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  Speaker 1: the woman, Gregory thought, glancing at her and groaning, he
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  Speaker 1: went out on the steps. No doubt, he only intended
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  Speaker 1: to look out from the steps, for he was hardly
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  Speaker 1: able to walk. The pain in his back and his
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  Speaker 1: right leg was intolerable. But he suddenly remembered that he
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  Speaker 1: had not locked the little gate into the garden that evening.
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  Speaker 1: He was the most punctual and precise of man, a
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  Speaker 1: man who adhered to an unchangeable routine and habits that
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  Speaker 1: lasted for years. Limping and writhing with pain, he went
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  Speaker 1: down the steps and towards the garden. Yes, the gate
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  Speaker 1: stood wide open. Mechanically, he stepped into the garden. Perhaps
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  Speaker 1: he fancied something, perhaps caught some sound, and glancing to
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  Speaker 1: the left, he saw his master's window open. No one
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  Speaker 1: was looking out of it. Then what it opened for?
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  Speaker 1: It's not summer, now, thought Gregory, And suddenly, at that
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  Speaker 1: very instant, he caught a glimpse of something extraordinary before him.
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  Speaker 1: In the garden, forty paces in front of him, a
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  Speaker 1: man seemed to be running in the dark. A sort
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  Speaker 1: of shadow was moving very fast. Good Lod cried Grigory
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  Speaker 1: beside himself, and forgetting the pain in his back, he
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  Speaker 1: hurried to intercept the running figure. He took a short cut,
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  Speaker 1: evidently he knew the garden better. The flying figure went
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  Speaker 1: towards the bath house, ran behind it, and rushed to
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  Speaker 1: the garden fence. Gregory followed, not losing sight of him,
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  Speaker 1: and ran, forgetting everything. He reached the fence at the
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  Speaker 1: very moment the man was climbing over it. Gregory cried
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  Speaker 1: out beside himself, pounced on him and clutched his leg
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  Speaker 1: in his two hands. Yes, his foreboding had not deceived him.
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  Speaker 1: He recognized him. It was he, the monster, the paracide, paracide.
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  Speaker 1: The old man shouted so that the whole neighborhood could hear,
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  Speaker 1: but he had not time to shout more. He fell
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  Speaker 1: at once, as though struck by lightning. Mitcha jumped back
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  Speaker 1: into the garden and bent over the fallen man. In
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  Speaker 1: Mitscha's hands was a brass puszle, and he flung it
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  Speaker 1: mechanically in the grass. The puszle fell two paces from grigory,
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  Speaker 1: not in the grass, but on the path, in a
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  Speaker 1: most conspicuous place. For some seconds, he examined the prostrate
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  Speaker 1: figure before him. The old man's head was covered with blood.
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  Speaker 1: Mitya put out his hand and began feeling it. He
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  Speaker 1: remembered afterwards clearly that he had been awfully anxious to
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  Speaker 1: make sure whether he had broken the old man's skull
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  Speaker 1: or simply stunned him with the pestle. But the blood
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  Speaker 1: was blowing horribly, and in a moment Mitya's fingers were
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  Speaker 1: drenched with the hot stream. He remembered taking out of
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  Speaker 1: his pocket the clean white handkerchief with which he had
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  Speaker 1: provided himself for his visit to Madame Hohlakov, and putting
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  Speaker 1: it to the old man's head, senselessly trying to wipe
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  Speaker 1: the blood from his face and temples. But the handkerchief
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  Speaker 1: was instantly soaked with blood. Good, heavens, what am I
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  Speaker 1: doing it for? Thought Mitya, suddenly pulling himself together. If
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  Speaker 1: I have broken his skul, how can I find out now?
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  Speaker 1: And what difference does it make now? He added hopelessly.
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  Speaker 1: If I've killed him, I'd killed him. You've come to grief,
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  Speaker 1: old man, So there you must lie, he said a lad,
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  Speaker 1: and suddenly, turning to the fence, he vaulted over it
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  Speaker 1: into the lane and fell to running. The handkerchief, soaked
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  Speaker 1: with blood he held crushed up in his right fist,
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  Speaker 1: and as he ran, he thrust it into the back
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  Speaker 1: pocket of his coat. He ran headlong, and the few
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  Speaker 1: passers by who met him in the dark in the
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  Speaker 1: streets remembered afterwards that they had met a man running
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  Speaker 1: that night. He flew back again to the widow Morotzov's
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  Speaker 1: house immediately after he had left it that evening, when
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  Speaker 1: Ya had rushed to the chief porter, Nazar Ivanovitch, and
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  Speaker 1: besow him, for Christ's sake, not to let the captain
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  Speaker 1: in again to day or tomorrow. Nazar Ivanovitch promised, but
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  Speaker 1: went upstairs to his mistress, who had suddenly sent for him, and,
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  Speaker 1: meeting his nephew, a boy of twenty who had recently
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  Speaker 1: come from the country on the way up, told him
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  Speaker 1: to take his place, but forgot to mention the captain. Mitya,
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  Speaker 1: running up to the gate, knocked. The lad instantly recognized him,
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  Speaker 1: for Mitya had more than once tipped him, opening the
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  Speaker 1: gate at once. He let him in and hastened to
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  Speaker 1: inform him with a good humored smile, that Agrappena Alexandrovna
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  Speaker 1: is not at home. Now, yo, know where is she?
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  Speaker 1: Then prohorf asked Mitya, stopping short, she set up this
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  Speaker 1: morning some two hours ago with to moped tamkrab what bog,
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  Speaker 1: cried Mitya, that I can't say to see some opposite
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  Speaker 1: some one invited hern horses were Santa Fayat. Mitya left
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  Speaker 1: em and ran like a madman Tafayat end of chapter
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  Speaker 1: fifty