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<h3 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 2.40em; margin-top: 2.40em"><span style="font-size: 120%">Chapter IV. The Lost Dog</span></h3>
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">
Kolya leaned against the fence with an air of dignity, waiting
for Alyosha to appear. Yes, he had long wanted to meet
him. He had heard a great deal about him from the boys, but
hitherto he had always maintained an appearance of disdainful indifference
when he was mentioned, and he had even <span class="tei tei-q">“criticized”</span> what
he heard about Alyosha. But secretly he had a great longing to make
his acquaintance; there was something sympathetic and attractive in
all he was told about Alyosha. So the present moment was important:
to begin with, he had to show himself at his best, to show his
independence, <span class="tei tei-q">“Or he'll think of me as thirteen and take me for
a boy, like the rest of them. And what are these boys to him? I
shall ask him when I get to know him. It's a pity I am so short,
though. Tuzikov is younger than I am, yet he is half a head taller.
But I have a clever face. I am not good-looking. I know I'm
hideous, but I've a clever face. I mustn't talk too freely; if I fall
into his arms all at once, he may think—Tfoo! how horrible if he
should think—!”</span></p>
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">
Such were the thoughts that excited Kolya while he was doing
his utmost to assume the most independent air. What distressed him
most was his being so short; he did not mind so much his <span class="tei tei-q">“hideous”</span>
face, as being so short. On the wall in a corner at home he had
the year before made a pencil-mark to show his height, and every
two months since he anxiously measured himself against it to see
how much he had gained. But alas! he grew very slowly, and this
sometimes reduced him almost to despair. His face was in reality
by no means <span class="tei tei-q">“hideous”</span>; on the contrary, it was rather attractive,
with a fair, pale skin, freckled. His small, lively gray eyes had a
fearless look, and often glowed with feeling. He had rather high
cheekbones; small, very red, but not very thick, lips; his nose was
<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page599"></span><SPAN name="Pg599" id="Pg599" class="tei tei-anchor"></SPAN>
small and unmistakably turned up. <span class="tei tei-q">“I've a regular pug nose, a
regular pug nose,”</span> Kolya used to mutter to himself when he looked
in the looking-glass, and he always left it with indignation. <span class="tei tei-q">“But
perhaps I haven't got a clever face?”</span> he sometimes thought, doubtful
even of that. But it must not be supposed that his mind was
preoccupied with his face and his height. On the contrary, however
bitter the moments before the looking-glass were to him, he
quickly forgot them, and forgot them for a long time, <span class="tei tei-q">“abandoning
himself entirely to ideas and to real life,”</span> as he formulated it to
himself.</p>
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">
Alyosha came out quickly and hastened up to Kolya. Before he
reached him, Kolya could see that he looked delighted. <span class="tei tei-q">“Can he be
so glad to see me?”</span> Kolya wondered, feeling pleased. We may note
here, in passing, that Alyosha's appearance had undergone a complete
change since we saw him last. He had abandoned his cassock
and was wearing now a well-cut coat, a soft, round hat, and his
hair had been cropped short. All this was very becoming to him,
and he looked quite handsome. His charming face always had a
good-humored expression; but there was a gentleness and serenity in
his good-humor. To Kolya's surprise, Alyosha came out to him just
as he was, without an overcoat. He had evidently come in haste.
He held out his hand to Kolya at once.</p>
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">
<span class="tei tei-q">“Here you are at last! How anxious we've been to see you!”</span></p>
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">
<span class="tei tei-q">“There were reasons which you shall know directly. Anyway,
I am glad to make your acquaintance. I've long been hoping for
an opportunity, and have heard a great deal about you,”</span> Kolya muttered,
a little breathless.</p>
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">
<span class="tei tei-q">“We should have met anyway. I've heard a great deal about you,
too; but you've been a long time coming here.”</span></p>
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">
<span class="tei tei-q">“Tell me, how are things going?”</span></p>
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">
<span class="tei tei-q">“Ilusha is very ill. He is certainly dying.”</span></p>
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">
<span class="tei tei-q">“How awful! You must admit that medicine is a fraud, Karamazov,”</span>
cried Kolya warmly.</p>
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">
<span class="tei tei-q">“Ilusha has mentioned you often, very often, even in his sleep,
in delirium, you know. One can see that you used to be very, very
dear to him ... before the incident ... with the knife....
Then there's another reason.... Tell me, is that your dog?”</span></p>
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">
<span class="tei tei-q">“Yes, Perezvon.”</span></p>
<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page600"></span><SPAN name="Pg600" id="Pg600" class="tei tei-anchor"></SPAN>
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">
<span class="tei tei-q">“Not Zhutchka?”</span> Alyosha looked at Kolya with eyes full of
pity. <span class="tei tei-q">“Is she lost for ever?”</span></p>
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">
<span class="tei tei-q">“I know you would all like it to be Zhutchka. I've heard all
about it.”</span> Kolya smiled mysteriously. <span class="tei tei-q">“Listen, Karamazov, I'll tell
you all about it. That's what I came for; that's what I asked you
to come out here for, to explain the whole episode to you before we
go in,”</span> he began with animation. <span class="tei tei-q">“You see, Karamazov, Ilusha
came into the preparatory class last spring. Well, you know what
our preparatory class is—a lot of small boys. They began teasing
Ilusha at once. I am two classes higher up, and, of course, I only
look on at them from a distance. I saw the boy was weak and small,
but he wouldn't give in to them; he fought with them. I saw he
was proud, and his eyes were full of fire. I like children like that.
And they teased him all the more. The worst of it was he was
horribly dressed at the time, his breeches were too small for him,
and there were holes in his boots. They worried him about it; they
jeered at him. That I can't stand. I stood up for him at once, and
gave it to them hot. I beat them, but they adore me, do you know,
Karamazov?”</span> Kolya boasted impulsively; <span class="tei tei-q">“but I am always fond of
children. I've two chickens in my hands at home now—that's
what detained me to-day. So they left off beating Ilusha and I took
him under my protection. I saw the boy was proud. I tell you that,
the boy was proud; but in the end he became slavishly devoted to
me: he did my slightest bidding, obeyed me as though I were God,
tried to copy me. In the intervals between the classes he used to
run to me at once, and I'd go about with him. On Sundays, too.
They always laugh when an older boy makes friends with a younger
one like that; but that's a prejudice. If it's my fancy, that's
enough. I am teaching him, developing him. Why shouldn't I
develop him if I like him? Here you, Karamazov, have taken up
with all these nestlings. I see you want to influence the younger
generation—to develop them, to be of use to them, and I assure you
this trait in your character, which I knew by hearsay, attracted me
more than anything. Let us get to the point, though. I noticed
that there was a sort of softness and sentimentality coming over
the boy, and you know I have a positive hatred of this sheepish
sentimentality, and I have had it from a baby. There were contradictions
in him, too: he was proud, but he was slavishly devoted
<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page601"></span><SPAN name="Pg601" id="Pg601" class="tei tei-anchor"></SPAN>
to me, and yet all at once his eyes would flash and he'd refuse to
agree with me; he'd argue, fly into a rage. I used sometimes to
propound certain ideas; I could see that it was not so much that he
disagreed with the ideas, but that he was simply rebelling against
me, because I was cool in responding to his endearments. And so, in
order to train him properly, the tenderer he was, the colder I became.
I did it on purpose: that was my idea. My object was to
form his character, to lick him into shape, to make a man of him ...
and besides ... no doubt, you understand me at a word.
Suddenly I noticed for three days in succession he was downcast
and dejected, not because of my coldness, but for something else,
something more important. I wondered what the tragedy was. I
have pumped him and found out that he had somehow got to know
Smerdyakov, who was footman to your late father—it was before
his death, of course—and he taught the little fool a silly trick—that
is, a brutal, nasty trick. He told him to take a piece of bread,
to stick a pin in it, and throw it to one of those hungry dogs who
snap up anything without biting it, and then to watch and see what
would happen. So they prepared a piece of bread like that and
threw it to Zhutchka, that shaggy dog there's been such a fuss
about. The people of the house it belonged to never fed it at all,
though it barked all day. (Do you like that stupid barking, Karamazov?
I can't stand it.) So it rushed at the bread, swallowed
it, and began to squeal; it turned round and round and ran away,
squealing as it ran out of sight. That was Ilusha's own account
of it. He confessed it to me, and cried bitterly. He hugged me,
shaking all over. He kept on repeating <span class="tei tei-q">‘He ran away squealing’</span>:
the sight of that haunted him. He was tormented by remorse, I
could see that. I took it seriously. I determined to give him a
lesson for other things as well. So I must confess I wasn't quite
straightforward, and pretended to be more indignant perhaps than
I was. <span class="tei tei-q">‘You've done a nasty thing,’</span> I said, <span class="tei tei-q">‘you are a scoundrel. I
won't tell of it, of course, but I shall have nothing more to do with
you for a time. I'll think it over and let you know through Smurov’</span>—that's
the boy who's just come with me; he's always ready to do
anything for me—<span class="tei tei-q">‘whether I will have anything to do with you in
the future or whether I give you up for good as a scoundrel.’</span> He
was tremendously upset. I must own I felt I'd gone too far as I
<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page602"></span><SPAN name="Pg602" id="Pg602" class="tei tei-anchor"></SPAN>
spoke, but there was no help for it. I did what I thought best at
the time. A day or two after, I sent Smurov to tell him that I
would not speak to him again. That's what we call it when two
schoolfellows refuse to have anything more to do with one another.
Secretly I only meant to send him to Coventry for a few days
and then, if I saw signs of repentance, to hold out my hand to him
again. That was my intention. But what do you think happened?
He heard Smurov's message, his eyes flashed. <span class="tei tei-q">‘Tell Krassotkin from
me,’</span> he cried, <span class="tei tei-q">‘that I will throw bread with pins to all the dogs—all—all
of them!’</span> <span class="tei tei-q">‘So he's going in for a little temper. We must
smoke it out of him.’</span> And I began to treat him with contempt;
whenever I met him I turned away or smiled sarcastically. And just
then that affair with his father happened. You remember? You
must realize that he was fearfully worked up by what had happened
already. The boys, seeing I'd given him up, set on him and
taunted him, shouting, <span class="tei tei-q">‘Wisp of tow, wisp of tow!’</span> And he had
soon regular skirmishes with them, which I am very sorry for.
They seem to have given him one very bad beating. One day he
flew at them all as they were coming out of school. I stood a few
yards off, looking on. And, I swear, I don't remember that I
laughed; it was quite the other way, I felt awfully sorry for him,
in another minute I would have run up to take his part. But he
suddenly met my eyes. I don't know what he fancied; but he
pulled out a penknife, rushed at me, and struck at my thigh, here
in my right leg. I didn't move. I don't mind owning I am plucky
sometimes, Karamazov. I simply looked at him contemptuously,
as though to say, <span class="tei tei-q">‘This is how you repay all my kindness! Do it
again, if you like, I'm at your service.’</span> But he didn't stab me
again; he broke down, he was frightened at what he had done, he
threw away the knife, burst out crying, and ran away. I did not
sneak on him, of course, and I made them all keep quiet, so it
shouldn't come to the ears of the masters. I didn't even tell my
mother till it had healed up. And the wound was a mere scratch.
And then I heard that the same day he'd been throwing stones and
had bitten your finger—but you understand now what a state he
was in! Well, it can't be helped: it was stupid of me not to come
and forgive him—that is, to make it up with him—when he was
taken ill. I am sorry for it now. But I had a special reason. So
<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page603"></span><SPAN name="Pg603" id="Pg603" class="tei tei-anchor"></SPAN>
now I've told you all about it ... but I'm afraid it was stupid
of me.”</span></p>
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">
<span class="tei tei-q">“Oh, what a pity,”</span> exclaimed Alyosha, with feeling, <span class="tei tei-q">“that I
didn't know before what terms you were on with him, or I'd have
come to you long ago to beg you to go to him with me. Would
you believe it, when he was feverish he talked about you in
delirium. I didn't know how much you were to him! And you've
really not succeeded in finding that dog? His father and the boys
have been hunting all over the town for it. Would you believe it,
since he's been ill, I've three times heard him repeat with tears, <span class="tei tei-q">‘It's
because I killed Zhutchka, father, that I am ill now. God is punishing
me for it.’</span> He can't get that idea out of his head. And if
the dog were found and proved to be alive, one might almost fancy
the joy would cure him. We have all rested our hopes on you.”</span></p>
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">
<span class="tei tei-q">“Tell me, what made you hope that I should be the one to find
him?”</span> Kolya asked, with great curiosity. <span class="tei tei-q">“Why did you reckon
on me rather than any one else?”</span></p>
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">
<span class="tei tei-q">“There was a report that you were looking for the dog, and that
you would bring it when you'd found it. Smurov said something
of the sort. We've all been trying to persuade Ilusha that the dog
is alive, that it's been seen. The boys brought him a live hare; he
just looked at it, with a faint smile, and asked them to set it free in
the fields. And so we did. His father has just this moment come
back, bringing him a mastiff pup, hoping to comfort him with that;
but I think it only makes it worse.”</span></p>
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">
<span class="tei tei-q">“Tell me, Karamazov, what sort of man is the father? I know
him, but what do you make of him—a mountebank, a buffoon?”</span></p>
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">
<span class="tei tei-q">“Oh, no; there are people of deep feeling who have been somehow
crushed. Buffoonery in them is a form of resentful irony against
those to whom they daren't speak the truth, from having been for
years humiliated and intimidated by them. Believe me, Krassotkin,
that sort of buffoonery is sometimes tragic in the extreme. His
whole life now is centered in Ilusha, and if Ilusha dies, he will either
go mad with grief or kill himself. I feel almost certain of that when
I look at him now.”</span></p>
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">
<span class="tei tei-q">“I understand you, Karamazov. I see you understand human
nature,”</span> Kolya added, with feeling.</p>
<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page604"></span><SPAN name="Pg604" id="Pg604" class="tei tei-anchor"></SPAN>
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">
<span class="tei tei-q">“And as soon as I saw you with a dog, I thought it was Zhutchka
you were bringing.”</span></p>
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">
<span class="tei tei-q">“Wait a bit, Karamazov, perhaps we shall find it yet; but this is
Perezvon. I'll let him go in now and perhaps it will amuse Ilusha
more than the mastiff pup. Wait a bit, Karamazov, you will know
something in a minute. But, I say, I am keeping you here!”</span> Kolya
cried suddenly. <span class="tei tei-q">“You've no overcoat on in this bitter cold. You
see what an egoist I am. Oh, we are all egoists, Karamazov!”</span></p>
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">
<span class="tei tei-q">“Don't trouble; it is cold, but I don't often catch cold. Let us
go in, though, and, by the way, what is your name? I know you are
called Kolya, but what else?”</span></p>
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">
<span class="tei tei-q">“Nikolay—Nikolay Ivanovitch Krassotkin, or, as they say in
official documents, <span class="tei tei-q">‘Krassotkin son.’</span> ”</span> Kolya laughed for some reason,
but added suddenly, <span class="tei tei-q">“Of course I hate my name Nikolay.”</span></p>
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">
<span class="tei tei-q">“Why so?”</span></p>
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">
<span class="tei tei-q">“It's so trivial, so ordinary.”</span></p>
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">
<span class="tei tei-q">“You are thirteen?”</span> asked Alyosha.</p>
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">
<span class="tei tei-q">“No, fourteen—that is, I shall be fourteen very soon, in a fortnight.
I'll confess one weakness of mine, Karamazov, just to you,
since it's our first meeting, so that you may understand my character
at once. I hate being asked my age, more than that ... and
in fact ... there's a libelous story going about me, that last week
I played robbers with the preparatory boys. It's a fact that I did
play with them, but it's a perfect libel to say I did it for my own
amusement. I have reasons for believing that you've heard the
story; but I wasn't playing for my own amusement, it was for the
sake of the children, because they couldn't think of anything to
do by themselves. But they've always got some silly tale. This
is an awful town for gossip, I can tell you.”</span></p>
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">
<span class="tei tei-q">“But what if you had been playing for your own amusement,
what's the harm?”</span></p>
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">
<span class="tei tei-q">“Come, I say, for my own amusement! You don't play horses,
do you?”</span></p>
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">
<span class="tei tei-q">“But you must look at it like this,”</span> said Alyosha, smiling.
<span class="tei tei-q">“Grown-up people go to the theater and there the adventures of all
sorts of heroes are represented—sometimes there are robbers and
battles, too—and isn't that just the same thing, in a different form,
of course? And young people's games of soldiers or robbers in their
<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page605"></span><SPAN name="Pg605" id="Pg605" class="tei tei-anchor"></SPAN>
playtime are also art in its first stage. You know, they spring from
the growing artistic instincts of the young. And sometimes these
games are much better than performances in the theater, the only
difference is that people go there to look at the actors, while in
these games the young people are the actors themselves. But that's
only natural.”</span></p>
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">
<span class="tei tei-q">“You think so? Is that your idea?”</span> Kolya looked at him intently.
<span class="tei tei-q">“Oh, you know, that's rather an interesting view. When I go home,
I'll think it over. I'll admit I thought I might learn something
from you. I've come to learn of you, Karamazov,”</span> Kolya concluded,
in a voice full of spontaneous feeling.</p>
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">
<span class="tei tei-q">“And I of you,”</span> said Alyosha, smiling and pressing his hand.</p>
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">
Kolya was much pleased with Alyosha. What struck him most
was that he treated him exactly like an equal and that he talked to
him just as if he were <span class="tei tei-q">“quite grown up.”</span></p>
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">
<span class="tei tei-q">“I'll show you something directly, Karamazov; it's a theatrical
performance, too,”</span> he said, laughing nervously. <span class="tei tei-q">“That's why I've
come.”</span></p>
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">
<span class="tei tei-q">“Let us go first to the people of the house, on the left. All the
boys leave their coats in there, because the room is small and hot.”</span></p>
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">
<span class="tei tei-q">“Oh, I'm only coming in for a minute. I'll keep on my overcoat.
Perezvon will stay here in the passage and be dead. <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Ici</span></span>,
Perezvon, lie down and be dead! You see how he's dead. I'll go
in first and explore, then I'll whistle to him when I think fit, and
you'll see, he'll dash in like mad. Only Smurov must not forget to
open the door at the moment. I'll arrange it all and you'll see
something.”</span></p>
</div>
<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 3.00em; margin-top: 3.00em">
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />