The Brothers Karamazov

lusha

The doctor came out of the room again, muffled in his fur coat and with
his cap on his head. His face looked almost angry and disgusted, as
though he were afraid of getting dirty. He cast a cursory glance round
the passage, looking sternly at Alyosha and Kolya as he did so. Alyosha
waved from the door to the coachman, and the carriage that had brought
the doctor drove up. The captain darted out after the doctor, and,
bowing apologetically, stopped him to get the last word. The poor
fellow looked utterly crushed; there was a scared look in his eyes.

“Your Excellency, your Excellency ... is it possible?” he began, but
could not go on and clasped his hands in despair. Yet he still gazed
imploringly at the doctor, as though a word from him might still change
the poor boy’s fate.

“I can’t help it, I am not God!” the doctor answered offhand, though
with the customary impressiveness.

“Doctor ... your Excellency ... and will it be soon, soon?”

“You must be prepared for anything,” said the doctor in emphatic and
incisive tones, and dropping his eyes, he was about to step out to the
coach.

“Your Excellency, for Christ’s sake!” the terror‐stricken captain
stopped him again. “Your Excellency! but can nothing, absolutely
nothing save him now?”

“It’s not in my hands now,” said the doctor impatiently, “but h’m!...”
he stopped suddenly. “If you could, for instance ... send ... your
patient ... at once, without delay” (the words “at once, without
delay,” the doctor uttered with an almost wrathful sternness that made
the captain start) “to Syracuse, the change to the new be‐ne‐ficial
climatic conditions might possibly effect—”

“To Syracuse!” cried the captain, unable to grasp what was said.

“Syracuse is in Sicily,” Kolya jerked out suddenly in explanation. The
doctor looked at him.

“Sicily! your Excellency,” faltered the captain, “but you’ve seen”—he
spread out his hands, indicating his surroundings—“mamma and my
family?”

“N—no, Sicily is not the place for the family, the family should go to
Caucasus in the early spring ... your daughter must go to the Caucasus,
and your wife ... after a course of the waters in the Caucasus for her
rheumatism ... must be sent straight to Paris to the mental specialist
Lepelletier; I could give you a note to him, and then ... there might
be a change—”

“Doctor, doctor! But you see!” The captain flung wide his hands again
despairingly, indicating the bare wooden walls of the passage.

“Well, that’s not my business,” grinned the doctor. “I have only told
you the answer of medical science to your question as to possible
treatment. As for the rest, to my regret—”

“Don’t be afraid, apothecary, my dog won’t bite you,” Kolya rapped out
loudly, noticing the doctor’s rather uneasy glance at Perezvon, who was
standing in the doorway. There was a wrathful note in Kolya’s voice. He
used the word apothecary instead of doctor on purpose, and, as he
explained afterwards, used it “to insult him.”

“What’s that?” The doctor flung up his head, staring with surprise at
Kolya. “Who’s this?” he addressed Alyosha, as though asking him to
explain.

“It’s Perezvon’s master, don’t worry about me,” Kolya said incisively
again.

“Perezvon?”[7] repeated the doctor, perplexed.

“He hears the bell, but where it is he cannot tell. Good‐by, we shall
meet in Syracuse.”

“Who’s this? Who’s this?” The doctor flew into a terrible rage.

“He is a schoolboy, doctor, he is a mischievous boy; take no notice of
him,” said Alyosha, frowning and speaking quickly. “Kolya, hold your
tongue!” he cried to Krassotkin. “Take no notice of him, doctor,” he
repeated, rather impatiently.

“He wants a thrashing, a good thrashing!” The doctor stamped in a
perfect fury.

“And you know, apothecary, my Perezvon might bite!” said Kolya, turning
pale, with quivering voice and flashing eyes. “Ici, Perezvon!”

“Kolya, if you say another word, I’ll have nothing more to do with
you,” Alyosha cried peremptorily.

“There is only one man in the world who can command Nikolay
Krassotkin—this is the man”; Kolya pointed to Alyosha. “I obey him,
good‐ by!”

He stepped forward, opened the door, and quickly went into the inner
room. Perezvon flew after him. The doctor stood still for five seconds
in amazement, looking at Alyosha; then, with a curse, he went out
quickly to the carriage, repeating aloud, “This is ... this is ... I
don’t know what it is!” The captain darted forward to help him into the
carriage. Alyosha followed Kolya into the room. He was already by
Ilusha’s bedside. The sick boy was holding his hand and calling for his
father. A minute later the captain, too, came back.

“Father, father, come ... we ...” Ilusha faltered in violent
excitement, but apparently unable to go on, he flung his wasted arms
round his father and Kolya, uniting them in one embrace, and hugging
them as tightly as he could. The captain suddenly began to shake with
dumb sobs, and Kolya’s lips and chin twitched.

“Father, father! How sorry I am for you!” Ilusha moaned bitterly.

“Ilusha ... darling ... the doctor said ... you would be all right ...
we shall be happy ... the doctor ...” the captain began.

“Ah, father! I know what the new doctor said to you about me.... I
saw!” cried Ilusha, and again he hugged them both with all his
strength, hiding his face on his father’s shoulder.

“Father, don’t cry, and when I die get a good boy, another one ...
choose one of them all, a good one, call him Ilusha and love him
instead of me....”

“Hush, old man, you’ll get well,” Krassotkin cried suddenly, in a voice
that sounded angry.

“But don’t ever forget me, father,” Ilusha went on, “come to my grave
... and, father, bury me by our big stone, where we used to go for our
walk, and come to me there with Krassotkin in the evening ... and
Perezvon ... I shall expect you.... Father, father!”

His voice broke. They were all three silent, still embracing. Nina was
crying quietly in her chair, and at last seeing them all crying,
“mamma,” too, burst into tears.

“Ilusha! Ilusha!” she exclaimed.

Krassotkin suddenly released himself from Ilusha’s embrace.

“Good‐by, old man, mother expects me back to dinner,” he said quickly.
“What a pity I did not tell her! She will be dreadfully anxious.... But
after dinner I’ll come back to you for the whole day, for the whole
evening, and I’ll tell you all sorts of things, all sorts of things.
And I’ll bring Perezvon, but now I will take him with me, because he
will begin to howl when I am away and bother you. Good‐by!”

And he ran out into the passage. He didn’t want to cry, but in the
passage he burst into tears. Alyosha found him crying.

“Kolya, you must be sure to keep your word and come, or he will be
terribly disappointed,” Alyosha said emphatically.

“I will! Oh, how I curse myself for not having come before!” muttered
Kolya, crying, and no longer ashamed of it.

At that moment the captain flew out of the room, and at once closed the
door behind him. His face looked frenzied, his lips were trembling. He
stood before the two and flung up his arms.

“I don’t want a good boy! I don’t want another boy!” he muttered in a
wild whisper, clenching his teeth. “If I forget thee, Jerusalem, may my
tongue—” He broke off with a sob and sank on his knees before the
wooden bench. Pressing his fists against his head, he began sobbing
with absurd whimpering cries, doing his utmost that his cries should
not be heard in the room.

Kolya ran out into the street.

“Good‐by, Karamazov? Will you come yourself?” he cried sharply and
angrily to Alyosha.

“I will certainly come in the evening.”

“What was that he said about Jerusalem?... What did he mean by that?”

“It’s from the Bible. ‘If I forget thee, Jerusalem,’ that is, if I
forget all that is most precious to me, if I let anything take its
place, then may—”

“I understand, that’s enough! Mind you come! Ici, Perezvon!” he cried
with positive ferocity to the dog, and with rapid strides he went home.

Book XI. Ivan