The Brothers Karamazov

“Tut, tut, tut! They will have bethought themselves and the rest of that balderdash! You bethink yourselves, fathers, and I will go. And I’m taking my son Alexei away from here forever, on my parental authority. Ivan Fyodorovich, my most respectful son, allow me to order you to follow me! Von Sohn, why should you stay here? Come home with me now. We’ll have fun. It’s just a mile away. Instead of lenten oil, I’ll serve suckling pig with kasha stuffing; we’ll have dinner, then some cognac, and liqueurs, I have a cloudberry liqueur ... Hey, von Sohn, don’t miss your chance!”

He went out shouting and waving his arms. It was at this moment that Rakitin saw him leaving and pointed him out to Alyosha.

“Alexei!” his father cried from far off when he saw him, “move back in with me today, for good, bring your pillow and mattress, don’t leave a trace behind!”

Alyosha stopped in his tracks, silently and attentively observing the scene. Fyodor Pavlovich meanwhile got into his carriage, and Ivan Fyodorovich started to get in after him, silently and glumly, without even turning to say good-bye to Alyosha. But at that point one more clownish and almost incredible scene took place, which put the finishing touch to the whole episode. The landowner Maximov suddenly appeared on the step of the carriage. He ran up, panting, afraid of being late. Alyosha and Rakitin saw him running. He was in such a hurry that in his impatience he put his foot on the step where Ivan Fyodorovich’s left foot was still standing and, clutching the side, started to jump into the carriage. “Me, too, I’m coming with you!” he cried, jumping, laughing his merry little laugh, with a blissful look on his face, ready for anything. “Take me, too!”

“Didn’t I tell you?” Fyodor Pavlovich cried in delight. “He’s von Sohn! He’s the real von Sohn, risen from the dead! But how did you get away? What did you vonsohn in there, how did you manage to get out of the dinner? It takes a brazen face! I have one, but I’m still surprised at yours! Jump, jump in quick! Let him in, Vanya, it will be fun. We’ll find room for him somewhere at our feet. Will you lie at our feet, von Sohn? Or shall we stick him in the box with the coachman ... ? Jump up in the box, von Sohn...!”

But Ivan Fyodorovich, who had sat down by then, silently and with all his force gave Maximov a sudden shove in the chest that sent him flying for two yards. It was only by chance that he did not fall.

“Drive!” Ivan Fyodorovich shouted angrily to the coachman.

“What’s got into you? What’s got into you? Why did you do that to him?” Fyodor Pavlovich heaved himself up, but the carriage was already moving. Ivan Fyodorovich did not answer.

“How do you like that?” Fyodor Pavlovich said again after two minutes of silence, looking askance at his boy. “You started this whole monastery business, you urged it, you approved it, why are you angry now?”

“Enough of this drivel. Take a little break, now at least,” Ivan Fyodorovich snapped sternly.

Fyodor Pavlovich was again silent for about two minutes.

“Be nice to have some cognac,” he remarked sententiously. But Ivan Fyodorovich did not reply.

“You’ll have a drink, too, when we get there.”

Ivan Fyodorovich still said nothing.

Fyodor Pavlovich waited for about two minutes more.

“I’ll still take Alyoshka from the monastery, despite the fact that it will be very unpleasant for you, my most respectful Karl von Moor.”

Ivan Fyodorovich shrugged contemptuously and, turning away, began staring at the road. They did not speak again until they reached home.

BOOK III: THE SENSUALISTS

Chapter 1: In the Servants’ Quarters