feat_summary_path: finished_summaries/sparknotes/The Brothers Karamazov/section_3_part_10.txt
feat_book_id: The Brothers Karamazov.book 3.chapter 10
feat_summary_id: book 3, chapter 10
feat_summary: {"name": "book 3, Chapter 10", "url": "https://web.archive.org/web/20210305110438/https://www.sparknotes.com/lit/brothersk/section4/", "summary": "The Two Together Alyosha visits Katerina at Madame Khokhlakov's house and is surprised to find that Grushenka is also there. Grushenka has just promised Katerina that she is going to leave Dmitri for a former lover, and Katerina will have him back soon. Katerina is grateful and overjoyed, but when she tells Alyosha what has happened, Grushenka insults her and says that she may decide to stay with Dmitri after all. On his way out of the house, Alyosha is stopped by a maid, who gives him a letter from Lise", "analysis": ""}
text: Chapter X. Both Together
  
  
  Alyosha left his father's house feeling even more exhausted and dejected
  in spirit than when he had entered it. His mind too seemed shattered and
  unhinged, while he felt that he was afraid to put together the disjointed
  fragments and form a general idea from all the agonizing and conflicting
  experiences of the day. He felt something bordering upon despair, which he
  had never known till then. Towering like a mountain above all the rest
  stood the fatal, insoluble question: How would things end between his
  father and his brother Dmitri with this terrible woman? Now he had himself
  been a witness of it, he had been present and seen them face to face. Yet
  only his brother Dmitri could be made unhappy, terribly, completely
  unhappy: there was trouble awaiting him. It appeared too that there were
  other people concerned, far more so than Alyosha could have supposed
  before. There was something positively mysterious in it, too. Ivan had
  made a step towards him, which was what Alyosha had been long desiring.
  Yet now he felt for some reason that he was frightened at it. And these
  women? Strange to say, that morning he had set out for Katerina Ivanovna's
  in the greatest embarrassment; now he felt nothing of the kind. On the
  contrary, he was hastening there as though expecting to find guidance from
  her. Yet to give her this message was obviously more difficult than
  before. The matter of the three thousand was decided irrevocably, and
  Dmitri, feeling himself dishonored and losing his last hope, might sink to
  any depth. He had, moreover, told him to describe to Katerina Ivanovna the
  scene which had just taken place with his father.
  
  It was by now seven o'clock, and it was getting dark as Alyosha entered
  the very spacious and convenient house in the High Street occupied by
  Katerina Ivanovna. Alyosha knew that she lived with two aunts. One of
  them, a woman of little education, was that aunt of her half-sister Agafya
  Ivanovna who had looked after her in her father's house when she came from
  boarding-school. The other aunt was a Moscow lady of style and
  consequence, though in straitened circumstances. It was said that they
  both gave way in everything to Katerina Ivanovna, and that she only kept
  them with her as chaperons. Katerina Ivanovna herself gave way to no one
  but her benefactress, the general's widow, who had been kept by illness in
  Moscow, and to whom she was obliged to write twice a week a full account
  of all her doings.
  
  When Alyosha entered the hall and asked the maid who opened the door to
  him to take his name up, it was evident that they were already aware of
  his arrival. Possibly he had been noticed from the window. At least,
  Alyosha heard a noise, caught the sound of flying footsteps and rustling
  skirts. Two or three women, perhaps, had run out of the room.
  
  Alyosha thought it strange that his arrival should cause such excitement.
  He was conducted however to the drawing-room at once. It was a large room,
  elegantly and amply furnished, not at all in provincial style. There were
  many sofas, lounges, settees, big and little tables. There were pictures
  on the walls, vases and lamps on the tables, masses of flowers, and even
  an aquarium in the window. It was twilight and rather dark. Alyosha made
  out a silk mantle thrown down on the sofa, where people had evidently just
  been sitting; and on a table in front of the sofa were two unfinished cups
  of chocolate, cakes, a glass saucer with blue raisins, and another with
  sweetmeats. Alyosha saw that he had interrupted visitors, and frowned. But
  at that instant the portiere was raised, and with rapid, hurrying
  footsteps Katerina Ivanovna came in, holding out both hands to Alyosha
  with a radiant smile of delight. At the same instant a servant brought in
  two lighted candles and set them on the table.
  
  "Thank God! At last you have come too! I've been simply praying for you
  all day! Sit down."
  
  Alyosha had been struck by Katerina Ivanovna's beauty when, three weeks
  before, Dmitri had first brought him, at Katerina Ivanovna's special
  request, to be introduced to her. There had been no conversation between
  them at that interview, however. Supposing Alyosha to be very shy,
  Katerina Ivanovna had talked all the time to Dmitri to spare him. Alyosha
  had been silent, but he had seen a great deal very clearly. He was struck
  by the imperiousness, proud ease, and self-confidence of the haughty girl.
  And all that was certain, Alyosha felt that he was not exaggerating it. He
  thought her great glowing black eyes were very fine, especially with her
  pale, even rather sallow, longish face. But in those eyes and in the lines
  of her exquisite lips there was something with which his brother might
  well be passionately in love, but which perhaps could not be loved for
  long. He expressed this thought almost plainly to Dmitri when, after the
  visit, his brother besought and insisted that he should not conceal his
  impressions on seeing his betrothed.
  
  "You'll be happy with her, but perhaps--not tranquilly happy."
  
  "Quite so, brother. Such people remain always the same. They don't yield
  to fate. So you think I shan't love her for ever."
  
  "No; perhaps you will love her for ever. But perhaps you won't always be
  happy with her."
  
  Alyosha had given his opinion at the time, blushing, and angry with
  himself for having yielded to his brother's entreaties and put such
  "foolish" ideas into words. For his opinion had struck him as awfully
  foolish immediately after he had uttered it. He felt ashamed too of having
  given so confident an opinion about a woman. It was with the more
  amazement that he felt now, at the first glance at Katerina Ivanovna as
  she ran in to him, that he had perhaps been utterly mistaken. This time
  her face was beaming with spontaneous good-natured kindliness, and direct
  warm-hearted sincerity. The "pride and haughtiness," which had struck
  Alyosha so much before, was only betrayed now in a frank, generous energy
  and a sort of bright, strong faith in herself. Alyosha realized at the
  first glance, at the first word, that all the tragedy of her position in
  relation to the man she loved so dearly was no secret to her; that she
  perhaps already knew everything, positively everything. And yet, in spite
  of that, there was such brightness in her face, such faith in the future.
  Alyosha felt at once that he had gravely wronged her in his thoughts. He
  was conquered and captivated immediately. Besides all this, he noticed at
  her first words that she was in great excitement, an excitement perhaps
  quite exceptional and almost approaching ecstasy.
  
  "I was so eager to see you, because I can learn from you the whole
  truth--from you and no one else."
  
  "I have come," muttered Alyosha confusedly, "I--he sent me."
  
  "Ah, he sent you! I foresaw that. Now I know everything--everything!" cried
  Katerina Ivanovna, her eyes flashing. "Wait a moment, Alexey Fyodorovitch,
  I'll tell you why I've been so longing to see you. You see, I know perhaps
  far more than you do yourself, and there's no need for you to tell me
  anything. I'll tell you what I want from you. I want to know your own last
  impression of him. I want you to tell me most directly, plainly, coarsely
  even (oh, as coarsely as you like!), what you thought of him just now and
  of his position after your meeting with him to-day. That will perhaps be
  better than if I had a personal explanation with him, as he does not want
  to come to me. Do you understand what I want from you? Now, tell me
  simply, tell me every word of the message he sent you with (I knew he
  would send you)."
  
  "He told me to give you his compliments--and to say that he would never
  come again--but to give you his compliments."
  
  "His compliments? Was that what he said--his own expression?"
  
  "Yes."
  
  "Accidentally perhaps he made a mistake in the word, perhaps he did not
  use the right word?"
  
  "No; he told me precisely to repeat that word. He begged me two or three
  times not to forget to say so."
  
  Katerina Ivanovna flushed hotly.
  
  "Help me now, Alexey Fyodorovitch. Now I really need your help. I'll tell
  you what I think, and you must simply say whether it's right or not.
  Listen! If he had sent me his compliments in passing, without insisting on
  your repeating the words, without emphasizing them, that would be the end
  of everything! But if he particularly insisted on those words, if he
  particularly told you not to forget to repeat them to me, then perhaps he
  was in excitement, beside himself. He had made his decision and was
  frightened at it. He wasn't walking away from me with a resolute step, but
  leaping headlong. The emphasis on that phrase may have been simply
  bravado."
  
  "Yes, yes!" cried Alyosha warmly. "I believe that is it."
  
  "And, if so, he's not altogether lost. I can still save him. Stay! Did he
  not tell you anything about money--about three thousand roubles?"
  
  "He did speak about it, and it's that more than anything that's crushing
  him. He said he had lost his honor and that nothing matters now," Alyosha
  answered warmly, feeling a rush of hope in his heart and believing that
  there really might be a way of escape and salvation for his brother. "But
  do you know about the money?" he added, and suddenly broke off.
  
  "I've known of it a long time; I telegraphed to Moscow to inquire, and
  heard long ago that the money had not arrived. He hadn't sent the money,
  but I said nothing. Last week I learnt that he was still in need of money.
  My only object in all this was that he should know to whom to turn, and
  who was his true friend. No, he won't recognize that I am his truest
  friend; he won't know me, and looks on me merely as a woman. I've been
  tormented all the week, trying to think how to prevent him from being
  ashamed to face me because he spent that three thousand. Let him feel
  ashamed of himself, let him be ashamed of other people's knowing, but not
  of my knowing. He can tell God everything without shame. Why is it he
  still does not understand how much I am ready to bear for his sake? Why,
  why doesn't he know me? How dare he not know me after all that has
  happened? I want to save him for ever. Let him forget me as his betrothed.
  And here he fears that he is dishonored in my eyes. Why, he wasn't afraid
  to be open with you, Alexey Fyodorovitch. How is it that I don't deserve
  the same?"
  
  The last words she uttered in tears. Tears gushed from her eyes.
  
  "I must tell you," Alyosha began, his voice trembling too, "what happened
  just now between him and my father."
  
  And he described the whole scene, how Dmitri had sent him to get the
  money, how he had broken in, knocked his father down, and after that had
  again specially and emphatically begged him to take his compliments and
  farewell. "He went to that woman," Alyosha added softly.
  
  "And do you suppose that I can't put up with that woman? Does he think I
  can't? But he won't marry her," she suddenly laughed nervously. "Could
  such a passion last for ever in a Karamazov? It's passion, not love. He
  won't marry her because she won't marry him." Again Katerina Ivanovna
  laughed strangely.
  
  "He may marry her," said Alyosha mournfully, looking down.
  
  "He won't marry her, I tell you. That girl is an angel. Do you know that?
  Do you know that?" Katerina Ivanovna exclaimed suddenly with extraordinary
  warmth. "She is one of the most fantastic of fantastic creatures. I know
  how bewitching she is, but I know too that she is kind, firm and noble.
  Why do you look at me like that, Alexey Fyodorovitch? Perhaps you are
  wondering at my words, perhaps you don't believe me? Agrafena
  Alexandrovna, my angel!" she cried suddenly to some one, peeping into the
  next room, "come in to us. This is a friend. This is Alyosha. He knows all
  about our affairs. Show yourself to him."
  
  "I've only been waiting behind the curtain for you to call me," said a
  soft, one might even say sugary, feminine voice.
  
  The portiere was raised and Grushenka herself, smiling and beaming, came
  up to the table. A violent revulsion passed over Alyosha. He fixed his
  eyes on her and could not take them off. Here she was, that awful woman,
  the "beast," as Ivan had called her half an hour before. And yet one would
  have thought the creature standing before him most simple and ordinary, a
  good-natured, kind woman, handsome certainly, but so like other handsome
  ordinary women! It is true she was very, very good-looking with that
  Russian beauty so passionately loved by many men. She was a rather tall
  woman, though a little shorter than Katerina Ivanovna, who was
  exceptionally tall. She had a full figure, with soft, as it were,
  noiseless, movements, softened to a peculiar over-sweetness, like her
  voice. She moved, not like Katerina Ivanovna, with a vigorous, bold step,
  but noiselessly. Her feet made absolutely no sound on the floor. She sank
  softly into a low chair, softly rustling her sumptuous black silk dress,
  and delicately nestling her milk-white neck and broad shoulders in a
  costly cashmere shawl. She was twenty-two years old, and her face looked
  exactly that age. She was very white in the face, with a pale pink tint on
  her cheeks. The modeling of her face might be said to be too broad, and
  the lower jaw was set a trifle forward. Her upper lip was thin, but the
  slightly prominent lower lip was at least twice as full, and looked
  pouting. But her magnificent, abundant dark brown hair, her sable-colored
  eyebrows and charming gray-blue eyes with their long lashes would have
  made the most indifferent person, meeting her casually in a crowd in the
  street, stop at the sight of her face and remember it long after. What
  struck Alyosha most in that face was its expression of childlike good
  nature. There was a childlike look in her eyes, a look of childish
  delight. She came up to the table, beaming with delight and seeming to
  expect something with childish, impatient, and confiding curiosity. The
  light in her eyes gladdened the soul--Alyosha felt that. There was
  something else in her which he could not understand, or would not have
  been able to define, and which yet perhaps unconsciously affected him. It
  was that softness, that voluptuousness of her bodily movements, that
  catlike noiselessness. Yet it was a vigorous, ample body. Under the shawl
  could be seen full broad shoulders, a high, still quite girlish bosom. Her
  figure suggested the lines of the Venus of Milo, though already in
  somewhat exaggerated proportions. That could be divined. Connoisseurs of
  Russian beauty could have foretold with certainty that this fresh, still
  youthful beauty would lose its harmony by the age of thirty, would
  "spread"; that the face would become puffy, and that wrinkles would very
  soon appear upon her forehead and round the eyes; the complexion would
  grow coarse and red perhaps--in fact, that it was the beauty of the moment,
  the fleeting beauty which is so often met with in Russian women. Alyosha,
  of course, did not think of this; but though he was fascinated, yet he
  wondered with an unpleasant sensation, and as it were regretfully, why she
  drawled in that way and could not speak naturally. She did so evidently
  feeling there was a charm in the exaggerated, honeyed modulation of the
  syllables. It was, of course, only a bad, underbred habit that showed bad
  education and a false idea of good manners. And yet this intonation and
  manner of speaking impressed Alyosha as almost incredibly incongruous with
  the childishly simple and happy expression of her face, the soft, babyish
  joy in her eyes. Katerina Ivanovna at once made her sit down in an arm-
  chair facing Alyosha, and ecstatically kissed her several times on her
  smiling lips. She seemed quite in love with her.
  
  "This is the first time we've met, Alexey Fyodorovitch," she said
  rapturously. "I wanted to know her, to see her. I wanted to go to her, but
  I'd no sooner expressed the wish than she came to me. I knew we should
  settle everything together--everything. My heart told me so--I was begged
  not to take the step, but I foresaw it would be a way out of the
  difficulty, and I was not mistaken. Grushenka has explained everything to
  me, told me all she means to do. She flew here like an angel of goodness
  and brought us peace and joy."
  
  "You did not disdain me, sweet, excellent young lady," drawled Grushenka
  in her sing-song voice, still with the same charming smile of delight.
  
  "Don't dare to speak to me like that, you sorceress, you witch! Disdain
  you! Here, I must kiss your lower lip once more. It looks as though it
  were swollen, and now it will be more so, and more and more. Look how she
  laughs, Alexey Fyodorovitch! It does one's heart good to see the angel."
  
  Alyosha flushed, and faint, imperceptible shivers kept running down him.
  
  "You make so much of me, dear young lady, and perhaps I am not at all
  worthy of your kindness."
  
  "Not worthy! She's not worthy of it!" Katerina Ivanovna cried again with
  the same warmth. "You know, Alexey Fyodorovitch, we're fanciful, we're
  self-willed, but proudest of the proud in our little heart. We're noble,
  we're generous, Alexey Fyodorovitch, let me tell you. We have only been
  unfortunate. We were too ready to make every sacrifice for an unworthy,
  perhaps, or fickle man. There was one man--one, an officer too, we loved
  him, we sacrificed everything to him. That was long ago, five years ago,
  and he has forgotten us, he has married. Now he is a widower, he has
  written, he is coming here, and, do you know, we've loved him, none but
  him, all this time, and we've loved him all our life! He will come, and
  Grushenka will be happy again. For the last five years she's been
  wretched. But who can reproach her, who can boast of her favor? Only that
  bedridden old merchant, but he is more like her father, her friend, her
  protector. He found her then in despair, in agony, deserted by the man she
  loved. She was ready to drown herself then, but the old merchant saved
  her--saved her!"
  
  "You defend me very kindly, dear young lady. You are in a great hurry
  about everything," Grushenka drawled again.
  
  "Defend you! Is it for me to defend you? Should I dare to defend you?
  Grushenka, angel, give me your hand. Look at that charming soft little
  hand, Alexey Fyodorovitch! Look at it! It has brought me happiness and has
  lifted me up, and I'm going to kiss it, outside and inside, here, here,
  here!"
  
  And three times she kissed the certainly charming, though rather fat, hand
  of Grushenka in a sort of rapture. She held out her hand with a charming
  musical, nervous little laugh, watched the "sweet young lady," and
  obviously liked having her hand kissed.
  
  "Perhaps there's rather too much rapture," thought Alyosha. He blushed. He
  felt a peculiar uneasiness at heart the whole time.
  
  "You won't make me blush, dear young lady, kissing my hand like this
  before Alexey Fyodorovitch."
  
  "Do you think I meant to make you blush?" said Katerina Ivanovna, somewhat
  surprised. "Ah, my dear, how little you understand me!"
  
  "Yes, and you too perhaps quite misunderstand me, dear young lady. Maybe
  I'm not so good as I seem to you. I've a bad heart; I will have my own
  way. I fascinated poor Dmitri Fyodorovitch that day simply for fun."
  
  "But now you'll save him. You've given me your word. You'll explain it all
  to him. You'll break to him that you have long loved another man, who is
  now offering you his hand."
  
  "Oh, no! I didn't give you my word to do that. It was you kept talking
  about that. I didn't give you my word."
  
  "Then I didn't quite understand you," said Katerina Ivanovna slowly,
  turning a little pale. "You promised--"
  
  "Oh, no, angel lady, I've promised nothing," Grushenka interrupted softly
  and evenly, still with the same gay and simple expression. "You see at
  once, dear young lady, what a willful wretch I am compared with you. If I
  want to do a thing I do it. I may have made you some promise just now. But
  now again I'm thinking: I may take to Mitya again. I liked him very much
  once--liked him for almost a whole hour. Now maybe I shall go and tell him
  to stay with me from this day forward. You see, I'm so changeable."
  
  "Just now you said--something quite different," Katerina Ivanovna whispered
  faintly.
  
  "Ah, just now! But, you know. I'm such a soft-hearted, silly creature.
  Only think what he's gone through on my account! What if when I go home I
  feel sorry for him? What then?"
  
  "I never expected--"
  
  "Ah, young lady, how good and generous you are compared with me! Now
  perhaps you won't care for a silly creature like me, now you know my
  character. Give me your sweet little hand, angelic lady," she said
  tenderly, and with a sort of reverence took Katerina Ivanovna's hand.
  
  "Here, dear young lady, I'll take your hand and kiss it as you did mine.
  You kissed mine three times, but I ought to kiss yours three hundred times
  to be even with you. Well, but let that pass. And then it shall be as God
  wills. Perhaps I shall be your slave entirely and want to do your bidding
  like a slave. Let it be as God wills, without any agreements and promises.
  What a sweet hand--what a sweet hand you have! You sweet young lady, you
  incredible beauty!"
  
  She slowly raised the hands to her lips, with the strange object indeed of
  "being even" with her in kisses.
  
  Katerina Ivanovna did not take her hand away. She listened with timid hope
  to the last words, though Grushenka's promise to do her bidding like a
  slave was very strangely expressed. She looked intently into her eyes; she
  still saw in those eyes the same simple-hearted, confiding expression, the
  same bright gayety.
  
  "She's perhaps too naive," thought Katerina Ivanovna, with a gleam of
  hope.
  
  Grushenka meanwhile seemed enthusiastic over the "sweet hand." She raised
  it deliberately to her lips. But she held it for two or three minutes near
  her lips, as though reconsidering something.
  
  "Do you know, angel lady," she suddenly drawled in an even more soft and
  sugary voice, "do you know, after all, I think I won't kiss your hand?"
  And she laughed a little merry laugh.
  
  "As you please. What's the matter with you?" said Katerina Ivanovna,
  starting suddenly.
  
  "So that you may be left to remember that you kissed my hand, but I didn't
  kiss yours."
  
  There was a sudden gleam in her eyes. She looked with awful intentness at
  Katerina Ivanovna.
  
  "Insolent creature!" cried Katerina Ivanovna, as though suddenly grasping
  something. She flushed all over and leapt up from her seat.
  
  Grushenka too got up, but without haste.
  
  "So I shall tell Mitya how you kissed my hand, but I didn't kiss yours at
  all. And how he will laugh!"
  
  "Vile slut! Go away!"
  
  "Ah, for shame, young lady! Ah, for shame! That's unbecoming for you, dear
  young lady, a word like that."
  
  "Go away! You're a creature for sale!" screamed Katerina Ivanovna. Every
  feature was working in her utterly distorted face.
  
  "For sale indeed! You used to visit gentlemen in the dusk for money once;
  you brought your beauty for sale. You see, I know."
  
  Katerina Ivanovna shrieked, and would have rushed at her, but Alyosha held
  her with all his strength.
  
  "Not a step, not a word! Don't speak, don't answer her. She'll go
  away--she'll go at once."
  
  At that instant Katerina Ivanovna's two aunts ran in at her cry, and with
  them a maid-servant. All hurried to her.
  
  "I will go away," said Grushenka, taking up her mantle from the sofa.
  "Alyosha, darling, see me home!"
  
  "Go away--go away, make haste!" cried Alyosha, clasping his hands
  imploringly.
  
  "Dear little Alyosha, see me home! I've got a pretty little story to tell
  you on the way. I got up this scene for your benefit, Alyosha. See me
  home, dear, you'll be glad of it afterwards."
  
  Alyosha turned away, wringing his hands. Grushenka ran out of the house,
  laughing musically.
  
  Katerina Ivanovna went into a fit of hysterics. She sobbed, and was shaken
  with convulsions. Every one fussed round her.
  
  "I warned you," said the elder of her aunts. "I tried to prevent your
  doing this. You're too impulsive. How could you do such a thing? You don't
  know these creatures, and they say she's worse than any of them. You are
  too self-willed."
  
  "She's a tigress!" yelled Katerina Ivanovna. "Why did you hold me, Alexey
  Fyodorovitch? I'd have beaten her--beaten her!"
  
  She could not control herself before Alyosha; perhaps she did not care to,
  indeed.
  
  "She ought to be flogged in public on a scaffold!"
  
  Alyosha withdrew towards the door.
  
  "But, my God!" cried Katerina Ivanovna, clasping her hands. "He! He! He
  could be so dishonorable, so inhuman! Why, he told that creature what
  happened on that fatal, accursed day! 'You brought your beauty for sale,
  dear young lady.' She knows it! Your brother's a scoundrel, Alexey
  Fyodorovitch."
  
  Alyosha wanted to say something, but he couldn't find a word. His heart
  ached.
  
  "Go away, Alexey Fyodorovitch! It's shameful, it's awful for me! To-
  morrow, I beg you on my knees, come to-morrow. Don't condemn me. Forgive
  me. I don't know what I shall do with myself now!"
  
  Alyosha walked out into the street reeling. He could have wept as she did.
  Suddenly he was overtaken by the maid.
  
  "The young lady forgot to give you this letter from Madame Hohlakov; it's
  been left with us since dinner-time."
  
  Alyosha took the little pink envelope mechanically and put it, almost
  unconsciously, into his pocket.
  
  
  
  
  
feat_summary_name: book 3, Chapter 10
target: The Two Together Alyosha visits Katerina at Madame Khokhlakov's house and is surprised to find that Grushenka is also there. Grushenka has just promised Katerina that she is going to leave Dmitri for a former lover, and Katerina will have him back soon. Katerina is grateful and overjoyed, but when she tells Alyosha what has happened, Grushenka insults her and says that she may decide to stay with Dmitri after all. On his way out of the house, Alyosha is stopped by a maid, who gives him a letter from Lise