The Brothers Karamazov

“I’ll tell you: this Katya ... ah, she’s a dear, dear creature, only I can’t tell who she’s in love with. She was sitting here the other day, and I couldn’t get anything out of her. The more so as she’s begun talking to me so superficially now, in short, it’s all about my health and nothing more, and she even adopts such a tone, so I said to myself: well, never mind, God be with you ... Ah, yes, so about this fit of passion: the doctor has come. You do know that the doctor has come? But of course you know, the one who can recognize crazy people, you invited him yourself—that is, not you but Katya. It’s all Katya! So, look: a man sits there and he’s not crazy at all, only suddenly he has a fit of passion. He may be fully conscious and know what he’s doing, but at the same time he’s in a fit of passion. And so, apparently, Dmitri Fyodorovich also had a fit of passion. They found out about the fit of passion as soon as they opened the new law courts. It’s a blessing of the new courts. The doctor was here and questioned me about that evening, I mean about the gold mines: ‘How was he then?’ he said. Of course it was a fit of passion—he came in shouting: ‘Money, money, three thousand, give me three thousand,’ and then went and suddenly killed. ‘I don’t want to,’ he said, ‘I don’t want to kill,’ and suddenly he killed. And so, just for that he’ll be forgiven, because he tried to resist, and then killed.”

“But he did not kill,” Alyosha interrupted a bit sharply. Worry and impatience were overcoming him more and more.

“I know, it was that old man, Grigory...”

“What? Grigory?” Alyosha cried.

“Yes, yes, it was Grigory. After Dmitri Fyodorovich hit him, he lay there for a while, then got up, saw the door open, went in, and killed Fyodor Pavlovich.”

“But why, why?”

“He had a fit of passion. After Dmitri Fyodorovich hit him on the head, he came to, had a fit of passion, and went and killed him. And if he says he didn’t kill him, then maybe he just doesn’t remember. Only, you see: it would be better, so much better, if it were Dmitri Fyodorovich who killed him. And that’s how it was, though I say it was Grigory, it was certainly Dmitri Fyodorovich, and that’s much, much better! Oh, not better because a son killed his father, I’m not praising that; on the contrary, children should honor their parents; but still it’s better if it was he, because then there’s nothing to weep about, because he was beside himself when he did it, or, rather, he was within himself, but didn’t know what was happening to him. No, let them forgive him; it’s so humane, and everyone will see this blessing of the new courts, and I didn’t even know about it, but they say it has existed for a long time, and when I found out yesterday, I was so struck that I wanted to send for you at once; and afterwards, if they forgive him, then right after the trial he’ll come here for dinner, and I’ll invite acquaintances, and we shall drink to the new courts. I don’t think he’s dangerous; besides, I’ll invite a lot of guests, so it will always be possible to remove him if he does anything; and later he can become a justice of the peace somewhere in another town, or something like that, because those who have suffered some misfortune themselves are the best judges of all. And moreover, who isn’t in a fit of passion these days—you, me, we’re all in a fit of passion, there are so many examples: a man sits singing some old song, and suddenly something annoys him, he takes out a gun and shoots whoever happens to be there, and then they all forgive him. I read it recently, and all the doctors confirmed it. The doctors confirm nowadays, they confirm everything. Good heavens, my Lise is in a fit of passion, I wept just yesterday on her account, and the day before yesterday, and today I realized that she’s simply in a fit of passion. Oh, Lise upsets me so! I think she’s gone quite mad. Why did she send for you? Did she send for you, or did you come by yourself?”

“Yes, she sent for me, and I shall go to her now,” Alyosha made a resolute attempt to stand up.

“Ah, dear, dear Alexei Fyodorovich, perhaps that is the main thing,” Madame Khokhlakov cried, and suddenly burst into tears. “God knows I sincerely trust you with Lise, and it doesn’t matter that she sent for you in secret from her mother. But, forgive me, I cannot with the same ease trust my daughter to your brother, Ivan Fyodorovich, though I continue to regard him as a most chivalrous young man. And, imagine, he suddenly visited Lise, and I knew nothing about it.”

“What? How? When?” Alyosha was terribly surprised. He did not sit down again, but listened standing.