feat_summary_path: finished_summaries/shmoop/The Brothers Karamazov/section_17_part_0.txt
feat_book_id: The Brothers Karamazov.book 3.chapter 5
feat_summary_id: book 3, chapter 5
feat_summary: {"name": "Book 3, Chapter 5", "url": "https://web.archive.org/web/20201023112808/https://www.shmoop.com/study-guides/literature/brothers-karamazov/summary/book-3-chapter-5", "summary": "Dmitri continues to tell Alyosha about his history with Katerina. After he loans her the money, the family's honor is saved. Then the colonel dies of an illness and Katerina and her sister leave for Moscow. A wealthy aunt takes Katerina under her wing. Katerina is able to repay the money to Dmitri and also, in a letter, offers herself in marriage to him. Dmitri sends a letter back, then sends a letter explaining the situation to Ivan. Ivan is living in Moscow at the time, and Dmitri tells him to go see Katerina. There, Dmitri suspects, Ivan fell in love with Katerina. Later Dmitri finally arrives in Moscow, where his engagement with Katerina is celebrated. Although Katerina had made him promise to reform, Dmitri is quickly seduced back to his old ways by Grushenka, a foxy babe in their hometown. Grushenka also has her claws in their father, Fyodor. Dmitri confesses that the worst of it is that Katerina had entrusted him with 3,000 roubles to send to her sister in Moscow. But instead of sending the money, Dmitri had spent it all partying with Grushenka. Dmitri's only hope, as he tells Alyosha, is to repay Katerina so that he's not the absolute lowest scum of the earth. Since he has no money of his own, he asks for Alyosha's help in getting the money and in breaking off his engagement with Katerina. But Alyosha's just a poor monk. Where is he supposed to get the money, you ask? From the very same father, Fyodor, who's also in love with Grushenka. Smerdyakov has told Dmitri that Fyodor, in an attempt to win over Grushenka, has promised her 3,000 roubles. All she has to do is sneak into his room with a secret knock that only Smerdyakov and Fyodor know. But now Dmitri knows about their little scheme because Smerdyakov has spilled the beans. This is why Dmitri has been hiding in their neighbor's garden guzzling cognac. He's waiting for Grushenka, to prevent her tryst with his father. On top of all that, Dmitri wants Alyosha to convince their father to give Alyosha the money intended for Grushenka, money Alyosha can then give to Dmitri to give back to Katerina. Complicated much?", "analysis": ""}
text: Chapter V. The Confession Of A Passionate Heart--"Heels Up"
  
  
  "Now," said Alyosha, "I understand the first half."
  
  "You understand the first half. That half is a drama, and it was played
  out there. The second half is a tragedy, and it is being acted here."
  
  "And I understand nothing of that second half so far," said Alyosha.
  
  "And I? Do you suppose I understand it?"
  
  "Stop, Dmitri. There's one important question. Tell me, you were
  betrothed, you are betrothed still?"
  
  "We weren't betrothed at once, not for three months after that adventure.
  The next day I told myself that the incident was closed, concluded, that
  there would be no sequel. It seemed to me caddish to make her an offer. On
  her side she gave no sign of life for the six weeks that she remained in
  the town; except, indeed, for one action. The day after her visit the
  maid-servant slipped round with an envelope addressed to me. I tore it
  open: it contained the change out of the banknote. Only four thousand five
  hundred roubles was needed, but there was a discount of about two hundred
  on changing it. She only sent me about two hundred and sixty. I don't
  remember exactly, but not a note, not a word of explanation. I searched
  the packet for a pencil mark--n-nothing! Well, I spent the rest of the
  money on such an orgy that the new major was obliged to reprimand me.
  
  "Well, the lieutenant-colonel produced the battalion money, to the
  astonishment of every one, for nobody believed that he had the money
  untouched. He'd no sooner paid it than he fell ill, took to his bed, and,
  three weeks later, softening of the brain set in, and he died five days
  afterwards. He was buried with military honors, for he had not had time to
  receive his discharge. Ten days after his funeral, Katerina Ivanovna, with
  her aunt and sister, went to Moscow. And, behold, on the very day they
  went away (I hadn't seen them, didn't see them off or take leave) I
  received a tiny note, a sheet of thin blue paper, and on it only one line
  in pencil: 'I will write to you. Wait. K.' And that was all.
  
  "I'll explain the rest now, in two words. In Moscow their fortunes changed
  with the swiftness of lightning and the unexpectedness of an Arabian
  fairy-tale. That general's widow, their nearest relation, suddenly lost
  the two nieces who were her heiresses and next-of-kin--both died in the
  same week of small-pox. The old lady, prostrated with grief, welcomed
  Katya as a daughter, as her one hope, clutched at her, altered her will in
  Katya's favor. But that concerned the future. Meanwhile she gave her, for
  present use, eighty thousand roubles, as a marriage portion, to do what
  she liked with. She was an hysterical woman. I saw something of her in
  Moscow, later.
  
  "Well, suddenly I received by post four thousand five hundred roubles. I
  was speechless with surprise, as you may suppose. Three days later came
  the promised letter. I have it with me now. You must read it. She offers
  to be my wife, offers herself to me. 'I love you madly,' she says, 'even
  if you don't love me, never mind. Be my husband. Don't be afraid. I won't
  hamper you in any way. I will be your chattel. I will be the carpet under
  your feet. I want to love you for ever. I want to save you from yourself.'
  Alyosha, I am not worthy to repeat those lines in my vulgar words and in
  my vulgar tone, my everlastingly vulgar tone, that I can never cure myself
  of. That letter stabs me even now. Do you think I don't mind--that I don't
  mind still? I wrote her an answer at once, as it was impossible for me to
  go to Moscow. I wrote to her with tears. One thing I shall be ashamed of
  for ever. I referred to her being rich and having a dowry while I was only
  a stuck-up beggar! I mentioned money! I ought to have borne it in silence,
  but it slipped from my pen. Then I wrote at once to Ivan, and told him all
  I could about it in a letter of six pages, and sent him to her. Why do you
  look like that? Why are you staring at me? Yes, Ivan fell in love with
  her; he's in love with her still. I know that. I did a stupid thing, in
  the world's opinion; but perhaps that one stupid thing may be the saving
  of us all now. Oo! Don't you see what a lot she thinks of Ivan, how she
  respects him? When she compares us, do you suppose she can love a man like
  me, especially after all that has happened here?"
  
  "But I am convinced that she does love a man like you, and not a man like
  him."
  
  "She loves her own _virtue_, not me." The words broke involuntarily, and
  almost malignantly, from Dmitri. He laughed, but a minute later his eyes
  gleamed, he flushed crimson and struck the table violently with his fist.
  
  "I swear, Alyosha," he cried, with intense and genuine anger at himself;
  "you may not believe me, but as God is holy, and as Christ is God, I swear
  that though I smiled at her lofty sentiments just now, I know that I am a
  million times baser in soul than she, and that these lofty sentiments of
  hers are as sincere as a heavenly angel's. That's the tragedy of it--that I
  know that for certain. What if any one does show off a bit? Don't I do it
  myself? And yet I'm sincere, I'm sincere. As for Ivan, I can understand
  how he must be cursing nature now--with his intellect, too! To see the
  preference given--to whom, to what? To a monster who, though he is
  betrothed and all eyes are fixed on him, can't restrain his
  debaucheries--and before the very eyes of his betrothed! And a man like me
  is preferred, while he is rejected. And why? Because a girl wants to
  sacrifice her life and destiny out of gratitude. It's ridiculous! I've
  never said a word of this to Ivan, and Ivan of course has never dropped a
  hint of the sort to me. But destiny will be accomplished, and the best man
  will hold his ground while the undeserving one will vanish into his back-
  alley for ever--his filthy back-alley, his beloved back-alley, where he is
  at home and where he will sink in filth and stench at his own free will
  and with enjoyment. I've been talking foolishly. I've no words left. I use
  them at random, but it will be as I have said. I shall drown in the back-
  alley, and she will marry Ivan."
  
  "Stop, Dmitri," Alyosha interrupted again with great anxiety. "There's one
  thing you haven't made clear yet: you are still betrothed all the same,
  aren't you? How can you break off the engagement if she, your betrothed,
  doesn't want to?"
  
  "Yes, formally and solemnly betrothed. It was all done on my arrival in
  Moscow, with great ceremony, with ikons, all in fine style. The general's
  wife blessed us, and--would you believe it?--congratulated Katya. 'You've
  made a good choice,' she said, 'I see right through him.' And--would you
  believe it?--she didn't like Ivan, and hardly greeted him. I had a lot of
  talk with Katya in Moscow. I told her about myself--sincerely, honorably.
  She listened to everything.
  
  
      There was sweet confusion,
      There were tender words.
  
  
  Though there were proud words, too. She wrung out of me a mighty promise
  to reform. I gave my promise, and here--"
  
  "What?"
  
  "Why, I called to you and brought you out here to-day, this very
  day--remember it--to send you--this very day again--to Katerina Ivanovna,
  and--"
  
  "What?"
  
  "To tell her that I shall never come to see her again. Say, 'He sends you
  his compliments.' "
  
  "But is that possible?"
  
  "That's just the reason I'm sending you, in my place, because it's
  impossible. And, how could I tell her myself?"
  
  "And where are you going?"
  
  "To the back-alley."
  
  "To Grushenka, then!" Alyosha exclaimed mournfully, clasping his hands.
  "Can Rakitin really have told the truth? I thought that you had just
  visited her, and that was all."
  
  "Can a betrothed man pay such visits? Is such a thing possible and with
  such a betrothed, and before the eyes of all the world? Confound it, I
  have some honor! As soon as I began visiting Grushenka, I ceased to be
  betrothed, and to be an honest man. I understand that. Why do you look at
  me? You see, I went in the first place to beat her. I had heard, and I
  know for a fact now, that that captain, father's agent, had given
  Grushenka an I.O.U. of mine for her to sue me for payment, so as to put an
  end to me. They wanted to scare me. I went to beat her. I had had a
  glimpse of her before. She doesn't strike one at first sight. I knew about
  her old merchant, who's lying ill now, paralyzed; but he's leaving her a
  decent little sum. I knew, too, that she was fond of money, that she
  hoarded it, and lent it at a wicked rate of interest, that she's a
  merciless cheat and swindler. I went to beat her, and I stayed. The storm
  broke--it struck me down like the plague. I'm plague-stricken still, and I
  know that everything is over, that there will never be anything more for
  me. The cycle of the ages is accomplished. That's my position. And though
  I'm a beggar, as fate would have it, I had three thousand just then in my
  pocket. I drove with Grushenka to Mokroe, a place twenty-five versts from
  here. I got gypsies there and champagne and made all the peasants there
  drunk on it, and all the women and girls. I sent the thousands flying. In
  three days' time I was stripped bare, but a hero. Do you suppose the hero
  had gained his end? Not a sign of it from her. I tell you that rogue,
  Grushenka, has a supple curve all over her body. You can see it in her
  little foot, even in her little toe. I saw it, and kissed it, but that was
  all, I swear! 'I'll marry you if you like,' she said, 'you're a beggar,
  you know. Say that you won't beat me, and will let me do anything I
  choose, and perhaps I will marry you.' She laughed, and she's laughing
  still!"
  
  Dmitri leapt up with a sort of fury. He seemed all at once as though he
  were drunk. His eyes became suddenly bloodshot.
  
  "And do you really mean to marry her?"
  
  "At once, if she will. And if she won't, I shall stay all the same. I'll
  be the porter at her gate. Alyosha!" he cried. He stopped short before
  him, and taking him by the shoulders began shaking him violently. "Do you
  know, you innocent boy, that this is all delirium, senseless delirium, for
  there's a tragedy here. Let me tell you, Alexey, that I may be a low man,
  with low and degraded passions, but a thief and a pickpocket Dmitri
  Karamazov never can be. Well, then; let me tell you that I am a thief and
  a pickpocket. That very morning, just before I went to beat Grushenka,
  Katerina Ivanovna sent for me, and in strict secrecy (why I don't know, I
  suppose she had some reason) asked me to go to the chief town of the
  province and to post three thousand roubles to Agafya Ivanovna in Moscow,
  so that nothing should be known of it in the town here. So I had that
  three thousand roubles in my pocket when I went to see Grushenka, and it
  was that money we spent at Mokroe. Afterwards I pretended I had been to
  the town, but did not show her the post office receipt. I said I had sent
  the money and would bring the receipt, and so far I haven't brought it.
  I've forgotten it. Now what do you think you're going to her to-day to
  say? 'He sends his compliments,' and she'll ask you, 'What about the
  money?' You might still have said to her, 'He's a degraded sensualist, and
  a low creature, with uncontrolled passions. He didn't send your money
  then, but wasted it, because, like a low brute, he couldn't control
  himself.' But still you might have added, 'He isn't a thief though. Here
  is your three thousand; he sends it back. Send it yourself to Agafya
  Ivanovna. But he told me to say "he sends his compliments." ' But, as it
  is, she will ask, 'But where is the money?' "
  
  "Mitya, you are unhappy, yes! But not as unhappy as you think. Don't worry
  yourself to death with despair."
  
  "What, do you suppose I'd shoot myself because I can't get three thousand
  to pay back? That's just it. I shan't shoot myself. I haven't the strength
  now. Afterwards, perhaps. But now I'm going to Grushenka. I don't care
  what happens."
  
  "And what then?"
  
  "I'll be her husband if she deigns to have me, and when lovers come, I'll
  go into the next room. I'll clean her friends' goloshes, blow up their
  samovar, run their errands."
  
  "Katerina Ivanovna will understand it all," Alyosha said solemnly. "She'll
  understand how great this trouble is and will forgive. She has a lofty
  mind, and no one could be more unhappy than you. She'll see that for
  herself."
  
  "She won't forgive everything," said Dmitri, with a grin. "There's
  something in it, brother, that no woman could forgive. Do you know what
  would be the best thing to do?"
  
  "What?"
  
  "Pay back the three thousand."
  
  "Where can we get it from? I say, I have two thousand. Ivan will give you
  another thousand--that makes three. Take it and pay it back."
  
  "And when would you get it, your three thousand? You're not of age,
  besides, and you must--you absolutely must--take my farewell to her to-day,
  with the money or without it, for I can't drag on any longer, things have
  come to such a pass. To-morrow is too late. I shall send you to father."
  
  "To father?"
  
  "Yes, to father first. Ask him for three thousand."
  
  "But, Mitya, he won't give it."
  
  "As though he would! I know he won't. Do you know the meaning of despair,
  Alexey?"
  
  "Yes."
  
  "Listen. Legally he owes me nothing. I've had it all from him, I know
  that. But morally he owes me something, doesn't he? You know he started
  with twenty-eight thousand of my mother's money and made a hundred
  thousand with it. Let him give me back only three out of the twenty-eight
  thousand, and he'll draw my soul out of hell, and it will atone for many
  of his sins. For that three thousand--I give you my solemn word--I'll make
  an end of everything, and he shall hear nothing more of me. For the last
  time I give him the chance to be a father. Tell him God Himself sends him
  this chance."
  
  "Mitya, he won't give it for anything."
  
  "I know he won't. I know it perfectly well. Now, especially. That's not
  all. I know something more. Now, only a few days ago, perhaps only
  yesterday he found out for the first time _in earnest_ (underline _in
  earnest_) that Grushenka is really perhaps not joking, and really means to
  marry me. He knows her nature; he knows the cat. And do you suppose he's
  going to give me money to help to bring that about when he's crazy about
  her himself? And that's not all, either. I can tell you more than that. I
  know that for the last five days he has had three thousand drawn out of
  the bank, changed into notes of a hundred roubles, packed into a large
  envelope, sealed with five seals, and tied across with red tape. You see
  how well I know all about it! On the envelope is written: 'To my angel,
  Grushenka, when she will come to me.' He scrawled it himself in silence
  and in secret, and no one knows that the money's there except the valet,
  Smerdyakov, whom he trusts like himself. So now he has been expecting
  Grushenka for the last three or four days; he hopes she'll come for the
  money. He has sent her word of it, and she has sent him word that perhaps
  she'll come. And if she does go to the old man, can I marry her after
  that? You understand now why I'm here in secret and what I'm on the watch
  for."
  
  "For her?"
  
  "Yes, for her. Foma has a room in the house of these sluts here. Foma
  comes from our parts; he was a soldier in our regiment. He does jobs for
  them. He's watchman at night and goes grouse-shooting in the day-time; and
  that's how he lives. I've established myself in his room. Neither he nor
  the women of the house know the secret--that is, that I am on the watch
  here."
  
  "No one but Smerdyakov knows, then?"
  
  "No one else. He will let me know if she goes to the old man."
  
  "It was he told you about the money, then?"
  
  "Yes. It's a dead secret. Even Ivan doesn't know about the money, or
  anything. The old man is sending Ivan to Tchermashnya on a two or three
  days' journey. A purchaser has turned up for the copse: he'll give eight
  thousand for the timber. So the old man keeps asking Ivan to help him by
  going to arrange it. It will take him two or three days. That's what the
  old man wants, so that Grushenka can come while he's away."
  
  "Then he's expecting Grushenka to-day?"
  
  "No, she won't come to-day; there are signs. She's certain not to come,"
  cried Mitya suddenly. "Smerdyakov thinks so, too. Father's drinking now.
  He's sitting at table with Ivan. Go to him, Alyosha, and ask for the three
  thousand."
  
  "Mitya, dear, what's the matter with you?" cried Alyosha, jumping up from
  his place, and looking keenly at his brother's frenzied face. For one
  moment the thought struck him that Dmitri was mad.
  
  "What is it? I'm not insane," said Dmitri, looking intently and earnestly
  at him. "No fear. I am sending you to father, and I know what I'm saying.
  I believe in miracles."
  
  "In miracles?"
  
  "In a miracle of Divine Providence. God knows my heart. He sees my
  despair. He sees the whole picture. Surely He won't let something awful
  happen. Alyosha, I believe in miracles. Go!"
  
  "I am going. Tell me, will you wait for me here?"
  
  "Yes. I know it will take some time. You can't go at him point blank. He's
  drunk now. I'll wait three hours--four, five, six, seven. Only remember you
  must go to Katerina Ivanovna to-day, if it has to be at midnight, _with
  the money or without the money_, and say, 'He sends his compliments to
  you.' I want you to say that verse to her: 'He sends his compliments to
  you.' "
  
  "Mitya! And what if Grushenka comes to-day--if not to-day, to-morrow, or
  the next day?"
  
  "Grushenka? I shall see her. I shall rush out and prevent it."
  
  "And if--"
  
  "If there's an if, it will be murder. I couldn't endure it."
  
  "Who will be murdered?"
  
  "The old man. I shan't kill her."
  
  "Brother, what are you saying?"
  
  "Oh, I don't know.... I don't know. Perhaps I shan't kill, and perhaps I
  shall. I'm afraid that he will suddenly become so loathsome to me with his
  face at that moment. I hate his ugly throat, his nose, his eyes, his
  shameless snigger. I feel a physical repulsion. That's what I'm afraid of.
  That's what may be too much for me."
  
  "I'll go, Mitya. I believe that God will order things for the best, that
  nothing awful may happen."
  
  "And I will sit and wait for the miracle. And if it doesn't come to pass--"
  
  Alyosha went thoughtfully towards his father's house.
  
  
  
  
  
feat_summary_name: Book 3, Chapter 5
target: Dmitri continues to tell Alyosha about his history with Katerina. After he loans her the money, the family's honor is saved. Then the colonel dies of an illness and Katerina and her sister leave for Moscow. A wealthy aunt takes Katerina under her wing. Katerina is able to repay the money to Dmitri and also, in a letter, offers herself in marriage to him. Dmitri sends a letter back, then sends a letter explaining the situation to Ivan. Ivan is living in Moscow at the time, and Dmitri tells him to go see Katerina. There, Dmitri suspects, Ivan fell in love with Katerina. Later Dmitri finally arrives in Moscow, where his engagement with Katerina is celebrated. Although Katerina had made him promise to reform, Dmitri is quickly seduced back to his old ways by Grushenka, a foxy babe in their hometown. Grushenka also has her claws in their father, Fyodor. Dmitri confesses that the worst of it is that Katerina had entrusted him with 3,000 roubles to send to her sister in Moscow. But instead of sending the money, Dmitri had spent it all partying with Grushenka. Dmitri's only hope, as he tells Alyosha, is to repay Katerina so that he's not the absolute lowest scum of the earth. Since he has no money of his own, he asks for Alyosha's help in getting the money and in breaking off his engagement with Katerina. But Alyosha's just a poor monk. Where is he supposed to get the money, you ask? From the very same father, Fyodor, who's also in love with Grushenka. Smerdyakov has told Dmitri that Fyodor, in an attempt to win over Grushenka, has promised her 3,000 roubles. All she has to do is sneak into his room with a secret knock that only Smerdyakov and Fyodor know. But now Dmitri knows about their little scheme because Smerdyakov has spilled the beans. This is why Dmitri has been hiding in their neighbor's garden guzzling cognac. He's waiting for Grushenka, to prevent her tryst with his father. On top of all that, Dmitri wants Alyosha to convince their father to give Alyosha the money intended for Grushenka, money Alyosha can then give to Dmitri to give back to Katerina. Complicated much?