The Brothers Karamazov

Kolya leaned against the fence with an important look on his face and began waiting for Alyosha to appear. Yes, he had long been wanting to meet him. He had heard a lot about him from the boys, but so far had always ostensibly displayed an air of scornful indifference whenever anyone spoke to him about Alyosha, and even “criticized” him as he listened to what was told about him. But within himself he wanted very, very much to make his acquaintance; there was something sympathetic and attractive in all the stories he had heard about Alyosha. Thus, the present moment was an important one; first of all he must not disgrace himself, he must show his independence: “Otherwise he’ll think I’m thirteen, and take me for the same sort as those boys. What does he find in those boys anyway? I’ll ask him once we’ve become friends. Too bad I’m so short, though. Tuzikov is younger than I am, but he’s half a head taller. Still, I have an intelligent face; I’m not good-looking, I know my face is disgusting, but it’s an intelligent face. I also mustn’t give myself away too much, otherwise, if I start right out with embraces, maybe he’ll think ... Pfui, how disgusting if he was to think ...”

Such were Kolya’s worries, while he did his best to assume the most independent look. Above all, what tormented him was his small stature, not so much his “disgusting” face as his stature. At home, on the wall in one corner, there was a little pencil mark showing his height, which he had put there a year before, and since then, every two months, he would go excitedly to measure himself and see how much he had grown. But, alas, he grew terribly little, and that at times would bring him simply to despair. As for his face, it was not “disgusting” at all; on the contrary, it was quite comely, fair, pale, and freckled. His small but lively gray eyes had a brave look and would often light up with emotion. His cheekbones were somewhat broad, his lips were small, not too thick, but very red; his nose was small and decidedly upturned: “Quite snub-nosed, quite snub-nosed!” Kolya muttered to himself whenever he looked in the mirror, and he always went away from the mirror with indignation. “And it’s not much of an intelligent face either,” he sometimes thought, doubting even that. Still, it must not be thought that worrying about his face and height absorbed his whole soul. On the contrary, however painful those moments before the mirror were, he would quickly forget them, and for a long time, “giving himself wholly to ideas and to real life,” as he himself defined his activity.

Alyosha soon appeared and hurriedly came up to Kolya; Kolya could see even from several paces away that Alyosha’s face was somehow quite joyful. “Can it be he’s so glad to see me?” Kolya thought with pleasure. Here, incidentally, we must note that Alyosha had changed very much since we last saw him: he had thrown off his cassock and was now wearing a finely tailored coat and a soft, round hat, and his hair was cut short. All of this lent him charm, and, indeed, he looked very handsome. His comely face always had a cheerful look, but this cheerfulness was somehow quiet and calm. To Kolya’s surprise, Alyosha came out to him dressed just as he was, without an overcoat; obviously he had rushed to meet him. He held out his hand to Kolya at once.

“Here you are at last, we’ve been waiting for you so!”

“There were reasons, which you will learn of in a moment. In any case, I am glad to make your acquaintance. I have long been waiting for an opportunity, and have heard a lot,” Kolya mumbled, slightly out of breath.

“But you and I would have become acquainted anyway, I’ve heard a lot about you myself; it’s here, to this place, you’ve been slow in coming.”

“Tell me, how are things here?”

“Ilyusha is very bad, he will certainly die.”

“Really? You must agree, Karamazov, that medicine is vile,” Kolya exclaimed ardently.

“Ilyusha has mentioned you often, very often, you know, even in his sleep, in delirium. Evidently you were very, very dear to him before ... that incident ... with the penknife. There’s another reason besides ... Tell me, is this your dog?”

“Yes. Perezvon.”

“Not Zhuchka?” Alyosha looked pitifully into Kolya’s eyes. “She just vanished like that?”