The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoyevsky (best e book reader for android txt) 📖

you to prate,” he smiled again, this time almost

with hatred.

 

I took the book again, opened it in another place and showed him

the Epistle to the Hebrews, chapter 10, verse 31. He read:

 

“It is a fearful thing to fall

 

into the hands of the living God.”

 

He read it and simply flung down the book. He was trembling all

over.

 

“An awful text,” he said. “There’s no denying you’ve picked out

fitting ones.” He rose from the chair. “Well!” he said, “good-bye,

perhaps I shan’t come again… we shall meet in heaven. So I have been

for fourteen years ‘in the hands of the living God,’ that’s how one

must think of those fourteen years. To-morrow I will beseech those

hands to let me go.”

 

I wanted to take him in my arms and kiss him, but I did not

dare-his face was contorted add sombre. He went away.

 

“Good God,” I thought, “what has he gone to face!” I fell on my

knees before the ikon and wept for him before the Holy Mother of

God, our swift defender and helper. I was half an hour praying in

tears, and it was late, about midnight. Suddenly I saw the door open

and he came in again. I was surprised.

 

Where have you been?” I asked him.

 

“I think,” he said, “I’ve forgotten something… my

handkerchief, I think…. Well, even if I’ve not forgotten anything,

let me stay a little.”

 

He sat down. I stood over him.

 

“You sit down, too,” said he.

 

I sat down. We sat still for two minutes; he looked intently at me

and suddenly smiled. I remembered that-then he got up, embraced me

warmly and kissed me.

 

“Remember,” he said, “how I came to you a second time. Do you

hear, remember it!”

 

And he went out.

 

“To-morrow,” I thought.

 

And so it was. I did not know that evening that the next day was

his birthday. I had not been out for the last few days, so I had no

chance of hearing it from anyone. On that day he always had a great

gathering, everyone in the town went to it. It was the same this time.

After dinner he walked into the middle of the room, with a paper in

his hand-a formal declaration to the chief of his department who

was present. This declaration he read aloud to the whole assembly.

It contained a full account of the crime, in every detail.

 

“I cut myself off from men as a monster. God has visited me,” he

said in conclusion. “I want to suffer for my sin!”

 

Then he brought out and laid on the table all the things he had

been keeping for fourteen years, that he thought would prove his

crime, the jewels belonging to the murdered woman which he had

stolen to divert suspicion, a cross and a locket taken from her neck

with a portrait of her betrothed in the locket, her notebook and two

letters; one from her betrothed, telling her that he would soon be

with her, and her unfinished answer left on the table to be sent off

next day. He carried off these two letters-what for? Why had he

kept them for fourteen years afterwards instead of destroying them

as evidence against him?

 

And this is what happened: everyone was amazed and horrified,

everyone refused to believe it and thought that he was deranged,

though all listened with intense curiosity. A few days later it was

fully decided and agreed in every house that the unhappy man was

mad. The legal authorities could not refuse to take the case up, but

they too dropped it. Though the trinkets and letters made them ponder,

they decided that even if they did turn out to be authentic, no charge

could be based on those alone. Besides, she might have given him those

things as a friend, or asked him to take care of them for her. I heard

afterwards, however, that the genuineness of the things was proved

by the friends and relations of the murdered woman, and that there was

no doubt about them. Yet nothing was destined to come of it, after

all.

 

Five days later, all had heard that he was ill and that his life

was in danger. The nature of his illness I can’t explain; they said it

was an affection of the heart. But it became known that the doctors

had been induced by his wife to investigate his mental condition also,

and had come to the conclusion that it was a case of insanity. I

betrayed nothing, though people ran to question me. But when I

wanted to visit him, I was for a long while forbidden to do so,

above all by his wife.

 

“It’s you who have caused his illness,” she said to me; “he was

always gloomy, but for the last year people noticed that he was

peculiarly excited and did strange things, and now you have been the

ruin of him. Your preaching has brought him to this; for the last

month he was always with you.”

 

Indeed, not only his wife but the whole town were down upon me and

blamed me. “It’s all your doing,” they said. I was silent and indeed

rejoiced at heart, for I saw plainly God’s mercy to the man who had

turned against himself and punished himself. I could not believe in

his insanity.

 

They let me see him at last. he insisted upon saying good-bye to

me. I went in to him and saw at once, that not only his days, but

his hours were numbered. He was weak, yellow, his hands trembled, he

gasped for breath, but his face was full of tender and happy feeling.

 

“It is done!” he said. “I’ve long been yearning to see you. Why

didn’t you come?”

 

I did not tell him that they would not let me see him.

 

“God has had pity on me and is calling me to Himself. I know I

am dying, but I feel joy and peace for the first time after so many

years. There was heaven in my heart from the moment I had done what

I had to do. Now I dare to love my children and to kiss them.

Neither my wife nor the judges, nor anyone has believed it. My

children will never believe it either. I see in that God’s mercy to

them. I shall die, and my name will be without a stain for them. And

now I feel God near, my heart rejoices as in Heaven… I have done

my duty.”

 

He could not speak, he gasped for breath, he pressed my hand

warmly, looking fervently at me. We did not talk for long, his wife

kept peeping in at us. But he had time to whisper to me:

 

“Do you remember how I came back to you that second time, at

midnight? I told you to remember it. You know what I came back for?

I came to kill you!”

 

I started.

 

“I went out from you then into the darkness, I wandered about

the streets, struggling with myself. And suddenly I hated you so

that I could hardly bear it. Now, I thought, he is all that binds

me, and he is my judge. I can’t refuse to face my punishment

to-morrow, for he knows all. It was not that I was afraid you would

betray me (I never even thought of that), but I thought, ‘How can I

look him in the face if I don’t confess?’ And if you had been at the

other end of the earth, but alive, it would have been all the same,

the thought was unendurable that you were alive knowing everything and

condemning me. I hated you as though you were the cause, as though you

were to blame for everything. I came back to you then, remembering

that you had a dagger lying on your table. I sat down and asked you to

sit down, and for a whole minute I pondered. If I had killed you, I

should have been ruined by that murder even if I had not confessed the

other. But I didn’t think about that at all, and I didn’t want to

think of it at that moment. I only hated you and longed to revenge

myself on you for everything. The Lord vanquished the devil in my

heart. But let me tell you, you were never nearer death.”

 

A week later he died. The whole town followed him to the grave.

The chief priest made a speech full of feeling. All lamented the

terrible illness that had cut short his days. But all the town was

up in arms against me after the funeral, and people even refused to

see me. Some, at first a few and afterwards more, began indeed to

believe in the truth of his story, and they visited me and

questioned me with great interest and eagerness, for man loves to

see the downfall and disgrace of the righteous. But I held my

tongue, and very shortly after, I left the town, and five months later

by God’s grace I entered the safe and blessed path, praising the

unseen finger which had guided me so clearly to it. But I remember

in my prayer to this day, the servant of God, Mihail, who suffered

so greatly.