feat_summary_path: finished_summaries/shmoop/The Brothers Karamazov/section_32_part_0.txt
feat_book_id: The Brothers Karamazov.book 5.chapter 2
feat_summary_id: book 5, chapter 2
feat_summary: {"name": "Book 5, Chapter 2", "url": "https://web.archive.org/web/20201023112808/https://www.shmoop.com/study-guides/literature/brothers-karamazov/summary/book-5-chapter-2", "summary": "Alyosha decides he'll try to catch Dmitri at the gazebo by his father's house again, so he plants himself there in the hope that Dmitri will show up eventually. He's surprised to hear the sound of guitar playing and a man's voice singing. A woman replies, and Alyosha realizes it's Smerdyakov playing the guitar to one of the neighbor girls, Maria Kondatrievna. All of a sudden, Alyosha sneezes. He can't eavesdrop on the two any longer, so he goes up to them and inquires after Dmitri. Smerdyakov tells Alyosha that he isn't Dmitri's \"keeper,\" that Dmitri is constantly threatening him. Maria adds that the other day she heard Dmitri telling Smerdyakov that he would grind his head in a mortar. Smerdyakov tells Alyosha that Dmitri was invited to meet up with Ivan at a local tavern, so Alyosha takes leave of them and heads to the tavern. When Alyosha arrives at the tavern, Ivan invites him up to his private room, where he's dining alone.", "analysis": ""}
text: Chapter II. Smerdyakov With A Guitar
  
  
  He had no time to lose indeed. Even while he was saying good-by to Lise,
  the thought had struck him that he must attempt some stratagem to find his
  brother Dmitri, who was evidently keeping out of his way. It was getting
  late, nearly three o'clock. Alyosha's whole soul turned to the monastery,
  to his dying saint, but the necessity of seeing Dmitri outweighed
  everything. The conviction that a great inevitable catastrophe was about
  to happen grew stronger in Alyosha's mind with every hour. What that
  catastrophe was, and what he would say at that moment to his brother, he
  could perhaps not have said definitely. "Even if my benefactor must die
  without me, anyway I won't have to reproach myself all my life with the
  thought that I might have saved something and did not, but passed by and
  hastened home. If I do as I intend, I shall be following his great
  precept."
  
  His plan was to catch his brother Dmitri unawares, to climb over the
  fence, as he had the day before, get into the garden and sit in the
  summer-house. If Dmitri were not there, thought Alyosha, he would not
  announce himself to Foma or the women of the house, but would remain
  hidden in the summer-house, even if he had to wait there till evening. If,
  as before, Dmitri were lying in wait for Grushenka to come, he would be
  very likely to come to the summer-house. Alyosha did not, however, give
  much thought to the details of his plan, but resolved to act upon it, even
  if it meant not getting back to the monastery that day.
  
  Everything happened without hindrance, he climbed over the hurdle almost
  in the same spot as the day before, and stole into the summer-house
  unseen. He did not want to be noticed. The woman of the house and Foma
  too, if he were here, might be loyal to his brother and obey his
  instructions, and so refuse to let Alyosha come into the garden, or might
  warn Dmitri that he was being sought and inquired for.
  
  There was no one in the summer-house. Alyosha sat down and began to wait.
  He looked round the summer-house, which somehow struck him as a great deal
  more ancient than before. Though the day was just as fine as yesterday, it
  seemed a wretched little place this time. There was a circle on the table,
  left no doubt from the glass of brandy having been spilt the day before.
  Foolish and irrelevant ideas strayed about his mind, as they always do in
  a time of tedious waiting. He wondered, for instance, why he had sat down
  precisely in the same place as before, why not in the other seat. At last
  he felt very depressed--depressed by suspense and uncertainty. But he had
  not sat there more than a quarter of an hour, when he suddenly heard the
  thrum of a guitar somewhere quite close. People were sitting, or had only
  just sat down, somewhere in the bushes not more than twenty paces away.
  Alyosha suddenly recollected that on coming out of the summer-house the
  day before, he had caught a glimpse of an old green low garden-seat among
  the bushes on the left, by the fence. The people must be sitting on it
  now. Who were they?
  
  A man's voice suddenly began singing in a sugary falsetto, accompanying
  himself on the guitar:
  
  
      With invincible force
      I am bound to my dear.
      O Lord, have mercy
      On her and on me!
      On her and on me!
      On her and on me!
  
  
  The voice ceased. It was a lackey's tenor and a lackey's song. Another
  voice, a woman's, suddenly asked insinuatingly and bashfully, though with
  mincing affectation:
  
  "Why haven't you been to see us for so long, Pavel Fyodorovitch? Why do
  you always look down upon us?"
  
  "Not at all," answered a man's voice politely, but with emphatic dignity.
  It was clear that the man had the best of the position, and that the woman
  was making advances. "I believe the man must be Smerdyakov," thought
  Alyosha, "from his voice. And the lady must be the daughter of the house
  here, who has come from Moscow, the one who wears the dress with a tail
  and goes to Marfa for soup."
  
  "I am awfully fond of verses of all kinds, if they rhyme," the woman's
  voice continued. "Why don't you go on?"
  
  The man sang again:
  
  
      What do I care for royal wealth
      If but my dear one be in health?
      Lord have mercy
      On her and on me!
      On her and on me!
      On her and on me!
  
  
  "It was even better last time," observed the woman's voice. "You sang 'If
  my darling be in health'; it sounded more tender. I suppose you've
  forgotten to-day."
  
  "Poetry is rubbish!" said Smerdyakov curtly.
  
  "Oh, no! I am very fond of poetry."
  
  "So far as it's poetry, it's essential rubbish. Consider yourself, who
  ever talks in rhyme? And if we were all to talk in rhyme, even though it
  were decreed by government, we shouldn't say much, should we? Poetry is no
  good, Marya Kondratyevna."
  
  "How clever you are! How is it you've gone so deep into everything?" The
  woman's voice was more and more insinuating.
  
  "I could have done better than that. I could have known more than that, if
  it had not been for my destiny from my childhood up. I would have shot a
  man in a duel if he called me names because I am descended from a filthy
  beggar and have no father. And they used to throw it in my teeth in
  Moscow. It had reached them from here, thanks to Grigory Vassilyevitch.
  Grigory Vassilyevitch blames me for rebelling against my birth, but I
  would have sanctioned their killing me before I was born that I might not
  have come into the world at all. They used to say in the market, and your
  mamma too, with great lack of delicacy, set off telling me that her hair
  was like a mat on her head, and that she was short of five foot by a wee
  bit. Why talk of a wee bit while she might have said 'a little bit,' like
  every one else? She wanted to make it touching, a regular peasant's
  feeling. Can a Russian peasant be said to feel, in comparison with an
  educated man? He can't be said to have feeling at all, in his ignorance.
  From my childhood up when I hear 'a wee bit,' I am ready to burst with
  rage. I hate all Russia, Marya Kondratyevna."
  
  "If you'd been a cadet in the army, or a young hussar, you wouldn't have
  talked like that, but would have drawn your saber to defend all Russia."
  
  "I don't want to be a hussar, Marya Kondratyevna, and, what's more, I
  should like to abolish all soldiers."
  
  "And when an enemy comes, who is going to defend us?"
  
  "There's no need of defense. In 1812 there was a great invasion of Russia
  by Napoleon, first Emperor of the French, father of the present one, and
  it would have been a good thing if they had conquered us. A clever nation
  would have conquered a very stupid one and annexed it. We should have had
  quite different institutions."
  
  "Are they so much better in their own country than we are? I wouldn't
  change a dandy I know of for three young Englishmen," observed Marya
  Kondratyevna tenderly, doubtless accompanying her words with a most
  languishing glance.
  
  "That's as one prefers."
  
  "But you are just like a foreigner--just like a most gentlemanly foreigner.
  I tell you that, though it makes me bashful."
  
  "If you care to know, the folks there and ours here are just alike in
  their vice. They are swindlers, only there the scoundrel wears polished
  boots and here he grovels in filth and sees no harm in it. The Russian
  people want thrashing, as Fyodor Pavlovitch said very truly yesterday,
  though he is mad, and all his children."
  
  "You said yourself you had such a respect for Ivan Fyodorovitch."
  
  "But he said I was a stinking lackey. He thinks that I might be unruly. He
  is mistaken there. If I had a certain sum in my pocket, I would have left
  here long ago. Dmitri Fyodorovitch is lower than any lackey in his
  behavior, in his mind, and in his poverty. He doesn't know how to do
  anything, and yet he is respected by every one. I may be only a soup-
  maker, but with luck I could open a cafe restaurant in Petrovka, in
  Moscow, for my cookery is something special, and there's no one in Moscow,
  except the foreigners, whose cookery is anything special. Dmitri
  Fyodorovitch is a beggar, but if he were to challenge the son of the first
  count in the country, he'd fight him. Though in what way is he better than
  I am? For he is ever so much stupider than I am. Look at the money he has
  wasted without any need!"
  
  "It must be lovely, a duel," Marya Kondratyevna observed suddenly.
  
  "How so?"
  
  "It must be so dreadful and so brave, especially when young officers with
  pistols in their hands pop at one another for the sake of some lady. A
  perfect picture! Ah, if only girls were allowed to look on, I'd give
  anything to see one!"
  
  "It's all very well when you are firing at some one, but when he is firing
  straight in your mug, you must feel pretty silly. You'd be glad to run
  away, Marya Kondratyevna."
  
  "You don't mean you would run away?" But Smerdyakov did not deign to
  reply. After a moment's silence the guitar tinkled again, and he sang
  again in the same falsetto:
  
  
      Whatever you may say,
      I shall go far away.
      Life will be bright and gay
      In the city far away.
      I shall not grieve,
      I shall not grieve at all,
      I don't intend to grieve at all.
  
  
  Then something unexpected happened. Alyosha suddenly sneezed. They were
  silent. Alyosha got up and walked towards them. He found Smerdyakov
  dressed up and wearing polished boots, his hair pomaded, and perhaps
  curled. The guitar lay on the garden-seat. His companion was the daughter
  of the house, wearing a light-blue dress with a train two yards long. She
  was young and would not have been bad-looking, but that her face was so
  round and terribly freckled.
  
  "Will my brother Dmitri soon be back?" asked Alyosha with as much
  composure as he could.
  
  Smerdyakov got up slowly; Marya Kondratyevna rose too.
  
  "How am I to know about Dmitri Fyodorovitch? It's not as if I were his
  keeper," answered Smerdyakov quietly, distinctly, and superciliously.
  
  "But I simply asked whether you do know?" Alyosha explained.
  
  "I know nothing of his whereabouts and don't want to."
  
  "But my brother told me that you let him know all that goes on in the
  house, and promised to let him know when Agrafena Alexandrovna comes."
  
  Smerdyakov turned a deliberate, unmoved glance upon him.
  
  "And how did you get in this time, since the gate was bolted an hour ago?"
  he asked, looking at Alyosha.
  
  "I came in from the back-alley, over the fence, and went straight to the
  summer-house. I hope you'll forgive me," he added, addressing Marya
  Kondratyevna. "I was in a hurry to find my brother."
  
  "Ach, as though we could take it amiss in you!" drawled Marya
  Kondratyevna, flattered by Alyosha's apology. "For Dmitri Fyodorovitch
  often goes to the summer-house in that way. We don't know he is here and
  he is sitting in the summer-house."
  
  "I am very anxious to find him, or to learn from you where he is now.
  Believe me, it's on business of great importance to him."
  
  "He never tells us," lisped Marya Kondratyevna.
  
  "Though I used to come here as a friend," Smerdyakov began again, "Dmitri
  Fyodorovitch has pestered me in a merciless way even here by his incessant
  questions about the master. 'What news?' he'll ask. 'What's going on in
  there now? Who's coming and going?' and can't I tell him something more.
  Twice already he's threatened me with death."
  
  "With death?" Alyosha exclaimed in surprise.
  
  "Do you suppose he'd think much of that, with his temper, which you had a
  chance of observing yourself yesterday? He says if I let Agrafena
  Alexandrovna in and she passes the night there, I'll be the first to
  suffer for it. I am terribly afraid of him, and if I were not even more
  afraid of doing so, I ought to let the police know. God only knows what he
  might not do!"
  
  "His honor said to him the other day, 'I'll pound you in a mortar!' "
  added Marya Kondratyevna.
  
  "Oh, if it's pounding in a mortar, it may be only talk," observed Alyosha.
  "If I could meet him, I might speak to him about that too."
  
  "Well, the only thing I can tell you is this," said Smerdyakov, as though
  thinking better of it; "I am here as an old friend and neighbor, and it
  would be odd if I didn't come. On the other hand, Ivan Fyodorovitch sent
  me first thing this morning to your brother's lodging in Lake Street,
  without a letter, but with a message to Dmitri Fyodorovitch to go to dine
  with him at the restaurant here, in the market-place. I went, but didn't
  find Dmitri Fyodorovitch at home, though it was eight o'clock. 'He's been
  here, but he is quite gone,' those were the very words of his landlady.
  It's as though there was an understanding between them. Perhaps at this
  moment he is in the restaurant with Ivan Fyodorovitch, for Ivan
  Fyodorovitch has not been home to dinner and Fyodor Pavlovitch dined alone
  an hour ago, and is gone to lie down. But I beg you most particularly not
  to speak of me and of what I have told you, for he'd kill me for nothing
  at all."
  
  "Brother Ivan invited Dmitri to the restaurant to-day?" repeated Alyosha
  quickly.
  
  "That's so."
  
  "The Metropolis tavern in the market-place?"
  
  "The very same."
  
  "That's quite likely," cried Alyosha, much excited. "Thank you,
  Smerdyakov; that's important. I'll go there at once."
  
  "Don't betray me," Smerdyakov called after him.
  
  "Oh, no, I'll go to the tavern as though by chance. Don't be anxious."
  
  "But wait a minute, I'll open the gate to you," cried Marya Kondratyevna.
  
  "No; it's a short cut, I'll get over the fence again."
  
  What he had heard threw Alyosha into great agitation. He ran to the
  tavern. It was impossible for him to go into the tavern in his monastic
  dress, but he could inquire at the entrance for his brothers and call them
  down. But just as he reached the tavern, a window was flung open, and his
  brother Ivan called down to him from it.
  
  "Alyosha, can't you come up here to me? I shall be awfully grateful."
  
  "To be sure I can, only I don't quite know whether in this dress--"
  
  "But I am in a room apart. Come up the steps; I'll run down to meet you."
  
  A minute later Alyosha was sitting beside his brother. Ivan was alone
  dining.
  
  
  
  
  
feat_summary_name: Book 5, Chapter 2
target: Alyosha decides he'll try to catch Dmitri at the gazebo by his father's house again, so he plants himself there in the hope that Dmitri will show up eventually. He's surprised to hear the sound of guitar playing and a man's voice singing. A woman replies, and Alyosha realizes it's Smerdyakov playing the guitar to one of the neighbor girls, Maria Kondatrievna. All of a sudden, Alyosha sneezes. He can't eavesdrop on the two any longer, so he goes up to them and inquires after Dmitri. Smerdyakov tells Alyosha that he isn't Dmitri's "keeper," that Dmitri is constantly threatening him. Maria adds that the other day she heard Dmitri telling Smerdyakov that he would grind his head in a mortar. Smerdyakov tells Alyosha that Dmitri was invited to meet up with Ivan at a local tavern, so Alyosha takes leave of them and heads to the tavern. When Alyosha arrives at the tavern, Ivan invites him up to his private room, where he's dining alone.