feat_summary_path: finished_summaries/shmoop/The Brothers Karamazov/section_23_part_0.txt
feat_book_id: The Brothers Karamazov.book 3.chapter 11
feat_summary_id: book 3, chapter 11
feat_summary: {"name": "Book 3, Chapter 11", "url": "https://web.archive.org/web/20201023112808/https://www.shmoop.com/study-guides/literature/brothers-karamazov/summary/book-3-chapter-11", "summary": "As night falls, Alyosha hurries back to the monastery. On the road he is suddenly accosted by a man who shouts, \"Your money or your life!\" Fortunately it's just Dmitri, who's decided to play a prank on Alyosha. Alyosha chastises him for being so light-hearted, especially given Dmitri's attack on their father earlier that day. Dmitri apologizes and tells his brother he loves him. Alyosha then tells Dmitri about Katerina's quarrel with Grushenka. At first Dmitri seems almost enraged, but as soon as he hears about Grushenka's joke on Katerina, he laughs heartily. Alyosha chides Dmitri for taking Katerina's insult so lightly. Chagrined, Dmitri remembers telling Grushenka how moved he was by Katerina's sacrifice for her father, and he thought Grushenka had sympathized with him. Realizing that Grushenka may have been mocking him the entire time, Dmitri denounces himself as a \"scoundrel.\" Dmitri then tells Alyosha that a \"horrible dishonor is being prepared,\" beating his chest with his fist. Then he runs off without telling Alyosha what the \"horrible dishonor\" is. Mystified by his brother's words, Alyosha continues on to the monastery, where the elder Zosima has already gone to bed. Father Paissy greets Alyosha at Zosima's chambers and reminds Alyosha that, despite being out in the world, he is still a novice monk under Zosima's orders and must remember his vows. After waiting by Zosima's bed as the elder sleeps, Alyosha returns to the outer chamber, where he takes off his boots to go to bed. He prays before his simple cot. He doesn't ask God for anything ; he only desires for the \"tenderness\" that comes with prayer. In the middle of his prayer, he happens to feel the envelope that Katerina's maid had left in his pocket. After finishing his prayer, he opens the envelope. It's a letter from Lise, the young daughter of Madame Khokhlakov. She professes her love for him but worries that her reputation will be ruined because of her letter. Alyosha laughs with joy as he finishes the letter and passes into a peaceful sleep.", "analysis": ""}
text: Chapter XI. Another Reputation Ruined
  
  
  It was not much more than three-quarters of a mile from the town to the
  monastery. Alyosha walked quickly along the road, at that hour deserted.
  It was almost night, and too dark to see anything clearly at thirty paces
  ahead. There were cross-roads half-way. A figure came into sight under a
  solitary willow at the cross-roads. As soon as Alyosha reached the cross-
  roads the figure moved out and rushed at him, shouting savagely:
  
  "Your money or your life!"
  
  "So it's you, Mitya," cried Alyosha, in surprise, violently startled
  however.
  
  "Ha ha ha! You didn't expect me? I wondered where to wait for you. By her
  house? There are three ways from it, and I might have missed you. At last
  I thought of waiting here, for you had to pass here, there's no other way
  to the monastery. Come, tell me the truth. Crush me like a beetle. But
  what's the matter?"
  
  "Nothing, brother--it's the fright you gave me. Oh, Dmitri! Father's blood
  just now." (Alyosha began to cry, he had been on the verge of tears for a
  long time, and now something seemed to snap in his soul.) "You almost
  killed him--cursed him--and now--here--you're making jokes--'Your money or your
  life!' "
  
  "Well, what of that? It's not seemly--is that it? Not suitable in my
  position?"
  
  "No--I only--"
  
  "Stay. Look at the night. You see what a dark night, what clouds, what a
  wind has risen. I hid here under the willow waiting for you. And as God's
  above, I suddenly thought, why go on in misery any longer, what is there
  to wait for? Here I have a willow, a handkerchief, a shirt, I can twist
  them into a rope in a minute, and braces besides, and why go on burdening
  the earth, dishonoring it with my vile presence? And then I heard you
  coming--Heavens, it was as though something flew down to me suddenly. So
  there is a man, then, whom I love. Here he is, that man, my dear little
  brother, whom I love more than any one in the world, the only one I love
  in the world. And I loved you so much, so much at that moment that I
  thought, 'I'll fall on his neck at once.' Then a stupid idea struck me, to
  have a joke with you and scare you. I shouted, like a fool, 'Your money!'
  Forgive my foolery--it was only nonsense, and there's nothing unseemly in
  my soul.... Damn it all, tell me what's happened. What did she say? Strike
  me, crush me, don't spare me! Was she furious?"
  
  "No, not that.... There was nothing like that, Mitya. There--I found them
  both there."
  
  "Both? Whom?"
  
  "Grushenka at Katerina Ivanovna's."
  
  Dmitri was struck dumb.
  
  "Impossible!" he cried. "You're raving! Grushenka with her?"
  
  Alyosha described all that had happened from the moment he went in to
  Katerina Ivanovna's. He was ten minutes telling his story. He can't be
  said to have told it fluently and consecutively, but he seemed to make it
  clear, not omitting any word or action of significance, and vividly
  describing, often in one word, his own sensations. Dmitri listened in
  silence, gazing at him with a terrible fixed stare, but it was clear to
  Alyosha that he understood it all, and had grasped every point. But as the
  story went on, his face became not merely gloomy, but menacing. He
  scowled, he clenched his teeth, and his fixed stare became still more
  rigid, more concentrated, more terrible, when suddenly, with incredible
  rapidity, his wrathful, savage face changed, his tightly compressed lips
  parted, and Dmitri Fyodorovitch broke into uncontrolled, spontaneous
  laughter. He literally shook with laughter. For a long time he could not
  speak.
  
  "So she wouldn't kiss her hand! So she didn't kiss it; so she ran away!"
  he kept exclaiming with hysterical delight; insolent delight it might have
  been called, if it had not been so spontaneous. "So the other one called
  her tigress! And a tigress she is! So she ought to be flogged on a
  scaffold? Yes, yes, so she ought. That's just what I think; she ought to
  have been long ago. It's like this, brother, let her be punished, but I
  must get better first. I understand the queen of impudence. That's her all
  over! You saw her all over in that hand-kissing, the she-devil! She's
  magnificent in her own line! So she ran home? I'll go--ah--I'll run to her!
  Alyosha, don't blame me, I agree that hanging is too good for her."
  
  "But Katerina Ivanovna!" exclaimed Alyosha sorrowfully.
  
  "I see her, too! I see right through her, as I've never done before! It's
  a regular discovery of the four continents of the world, that is, of the
  five! What a thing to do! That's just like Katya, who was not afraid to
  face a coarse, unmannerly officer and risk a deadly insult on a generous
  impulse to save her father! But the pride, the recklessness, the defiance
  of fate, the unbounded defiance! You say that aunt tried to stop her? That
  aunt, you know, is overbearing, herself. She's the sister of the general's
  widow in Moscow, and even more stuck-up than she. But her husband was
  caught stealing government money. He lost everything, his estate and all,
  and the proud wife had to lower her colors, and hasn't raised them since.
  So she tried to prevent Katya, but she wouldn't listen to her! She thinks
  she can overcome everything, that everything will give way to her. She
  thought she could bewitch Grushenka if she liked, and she believed it
  herself: she plays a part to herself, and whose fault is it? Do you think
  she kissed Grushenka's hand first, on purpose, with a motive? No, she
  really was fascinated by Grushenka, that's to say, not by Grushenka, but
  by her own dream, her own delusion--because it was _her_ dream, _her_
  delusion! Alyosha, darling, how did you escape from them, those women? Did
  you pick up your cassock and run? Ha ha ha!"
  
  "Brother, you don't seem to have noticed how you've insulted Katerina
  Ivanovna by telling Grushenka about that day. And she flung it in her face
  just now that she had gone to gentlemen in secret to sell her beauty!
  Brother, what could be worse than that insult?"
  
  What worried Alyosha more than anything was that, incredible as it seemed,
  his brother appeared pleased at Katerina Ivanovna's humiliation.
  
  "Bah!" Dmitri frowned fiercely, and struck his forehead with his hand. He
  only now realized it, though Alyosha had just told him of the insult, and
  Katerina Ivanovna's cry: "Your brother is a scoundrel!"
  
  "Yes, perhaps, I really did tell Grushenka about that 'fatal day,' as
  Katya calls it. Yes, I did tell her, I remember! It was that time at
  Mokroe. I was drunk, the gypsies were singing.... But I was sobbing. I was
  sobbing then, kneeling and praying to Katya's image, and Grushenka
  understood it. She understood it all then. I remember, she cried
  herself.... Damn it all! But it's bound to be so now.... Then she cried,
  but now 'the dagger in the heart'! That's how women are."
  
  He looked down and sank into thought.
  
  "Yes, I am a scoundrel, a thorough scoundrel!" he said suddenly, in a
  gloomy voice. "It doesn't matter whether I cried or not, I'm a scoundrel!
  Tell her I accept the name, if that's any comfort. Come, that's enough.
  Good-by. It's no use talking! It's not amusing. You go your way and I
  mine. And I don't want to see you again except as a last resource. Good-
  by, Alexey!"
  
  He warmly pressed Alyosha's hand, and still looking down, without raising
  his head, as though tearing himself away, turned rapidly towards the town.
  
  Alyosha looked after him, unable to believe he would go away so abruptly.
  
  "Stay, Alexey, one more confession to you alone!" cried Dmitri, suddenly
  turning back. "Look at me. Look at me well. You see here, here--there's
  terrible disgrace in store for me." (As he said "here," Dmitri struck his
  chest with his fist with a strange air, as though the dishonor lay
  precisely on his chest, in some spot, in a pocket, perhaps, or hanging
  round his neck.) "You know me now, a scoundrel, an avowed scoundrel, but
  let me tell you that I've never done anything before and never shall
  again, anything that can compare in baseness with the dishonor which I
  bear now at this very minute on my breast, here, here, which will come to
  pass, though I'm perfectly free to stop it. I can stop it or carry it
  through, note that. Well, let me tell you, I shall carry it through. I
  shan't stop it. I told you everything just now, but I didn't tell you
  this, because even I had not brass enough for it. I can still pull up; if
  I do, I can give back the full half of my lost honor to-morrow. But I
  shan't pull up. I shall carry out my base plan, and you can bear witness
  that I told you so beforehand. Darkness and destruction! No need to
  explain. You'll find out in due time. The filthy back-alley and the she-
  devil. Good-by. Don't pray for me, I'm not worth it. And there's no need,
  no need at all.... I don't need it! Away!"
  
  And he suddenly retreated, this time finally. Alyosha went towards the
  monastery.
  
  "What? I shall never see him again! What is he saying?" he wondered
  wildly. "Why, I shall certainly see him to-morrow. I shall look him up. I
  shall make a point of it. What does he mean?"
  
                    -------------------------------------
  
  He went round the monastery, and crossed the pine-wood to the hermitage.
  The door was opened to him, though no one was admitted at that hour. There
  was a tremor in his heart as he went into Father Zossima's cell.
  
  "Why, why, had he gone forth? Why had he sent him into the world? Here was
  peace. Here was holiness. But there was confusion, there was darkness in
  which one lost one's way and went astray at once...."
  
  In the cell he found the novice Porfiry and Father Paissy, who came every
  hour to inquire after Father Zossima. Alyosha learnt with alarm that he
  was getting worse and worse. Even his usual discourse with the brothers
  could not take place that day. As a rule every evening after service the
  monks flocked into Father Zossima's cell, and all confessed aloud their
  sins of the day, their sinful thoughts and temptations; even their
  disputes, if there had been any. Some confessed kneeling. The elder
  absolved, reconciled, exhorted, imposed penance, blessed, and dismissed
  them. It was against this general "confession" that the opponents of
  "elders" protested, maintaining that it was a profanation of the sacrament
  of confession, almost a sacrilege, though this was quite a different
  thing. They even represented to the diocesan authorities that such
  confessions attained no good object, but actually to a large extent led to
  sin and temptation. Many of the brothers disliked going to the elder, and
  went against their own will because every one went, and for fear they
  should be accused of pride and rebellious ideas. People said that some of
  the monks agreed beforehand, saying, "I'll confess I lost my temper with
  you this morning, and you confirm it," simply in order to have something
  to say. Alyosha knew that this actually happened sometimes. He knew, too,
  that there were among the monks some who deeply resented the fact that
  letters from relations were habitually taken to the elder, to be opened
  and read by him before those to whom they were addressed.
  
  It was assumed, of course, that all this was done freely, and in good
  faith, by way of voluntary submission and salutary guidance. But, in fact,
  there was sometimes no little insincerity, and much that was false and
  strained in this practice. Yet the older and more experienced of the monks
  adhered to their opinion, arguing that "for those who have come within
  these walls sincerely seeking salvation, such obedience and sacrifice will
  certainly be salutary and of great benefit; those, on the other hand, who
  find it irksome, and repine, are no true monks, and have made a mistake in
  entering the monastery--their proper place is in the world. Even in the
  temple one cannot be safe from sin and the devil. So it was no good taking
  it too much into account."
  
  "He is weaker, a drowsiness has come over him," Father Paissy whispered to
  Alyosha, as he blessed him. "It's difficult to rouse him. And he must not
  be roused. He waked up for five minutes, sent his blessing to the
  brothers, and begged their prayers for him at night. He intends to take
  the sacrament again in the morning. He remembered you, Alexey. He asked
  whether you had gone away, and was told that you were in the town. 'I
  blessed him for that work,' he said, 'his place is there, not here, for
  awhile.' Those were his words about you. He remembered you lovingly, with
  anxiety; do you understand how he honored you? But how is it that he has
  decided that you shall spend some time in the world? He must have foreseen
  something in your destiny! Understand, Alexey, that if you return to the
  world, it must be to do the duty laid upon you by your elder, and not for
  frivolous vanity and worldly pleasures."
  
  Father Paissy went out. Alyosha had no doubt that Father Zossima was
  dying, though he might live another day or two. Alyosha firmly and
  ardently resolved that in spite of his promises to his father, the
  Hohlakovs, and Katerina Ivanovna, he would not leave the monastery next
  day, but would remain with his elder to the end. His heart glowed with
  love, and he reproached himself bitterly for having been able for one
  instant to forget him whom he had left in the monastery on his deathbed,
  and whom he honored above every one in the world. He went into Father
  Zossima's bedroom, knelt down, and bowed to the ground before the elder,
  who slept quietly without stirring, with regular, hardly audible breathing
  and a peaceful face.
  
  Alyosha returned to the other room, where Father Zossima had received his
  guests in the morning. Taking off his boots, he lay down on the hard,
  narrow, leathern sofa, which he had long used as a bed, bringing nothing
  but a pillow. The mattress, about which his father had shouted to him that
  morning, he had long forgotten to lie on. He took off his cassock, which
  he used as a covering. But before going to bed, he fell on his knees and
  prayed a long time. In his fervent prayer he did not beseech God to
  lighten his darkness but only thirsted for the joyous emotion, which
  always visited his soul after the praise and adoration, of which his
  evening prayer usually consisted. That joy always brought him light
  untroubled sleep. As he was praying, he suddenly felt in his pocket the
  little pink note the servant had handed him as he left Katerina
  Ivanovna's. He was disturbed, but finished his prayer. Then, after some
  hesitation, he opened the envelope. In it was a letter to him, signed by
  Lise, the young daughter of Madame Hohlakov, who had laughed at him before
  the elder in the morning.
  
  "Alexey Fyodorovitch," she wrote, "I am writing to you without any one's
  knowledge, even mamma's, and I know how wrong it is. But I cannot live
  without telling you the feeling that has sprung up in my heart, and this
  no one but us two must know for a time. But how am I to say what I want so
  much to tell you? Paper, they say, does not blush, but I assure you it's
  not true and that it's blushing just as I am now, all over. Dear Alyosha,
  I love you, I've loved you from my childhood, since our Moscow days, when
  you were very different from what you are now, and I shall love you all my
  life. My heart has chosen you, to unite our lives, and pass them together
  till our old age. Of course, on condition that you will leave the
  monastery. As for our age we will wait for the time fixed by the law. By
  that time I shall certainly be quite strong, I shall be walking and
  dancing. There can be no doubt of that.
  
  "You see how I've thought of everything. There's only one thing I can't
  imagine: what you'll think of me when you read this. I'm always laughing
  and being naughty. I made you angry this morning, but I assure you before
  I took up my pen, I prayed before the Image of the Mother of God, and now
  I'm praying, and almost crying.
  
  "My secret is in your hands. When you come to-morrow, I don't know how I
  shall look at you. Ah, Alexey Fyodorovitch, what if I can't restrain
  myself like a silly and laugh when I look at you as I did to-day. You'll
  think I'm a nasty girl making fun of you, and you won't believe my letter.
  And so I beg you, dear one, if you've any pity for me, when you come to-
  morrow, don't look me straight in the face, for if I meet your eyes, it
  will be sure to make me laugh, especially as you'll be in that long gown.
  I feel cold all over when I think of it, so when you come, don't look at
  me at all for a time, look at mamma or at the window....
  
  "Here I've written you a love-letter. Oh, dear, what have I done? Alyosha,
  don't despise me, and if I've done something very horrid and wounded you,
  forgive me. Now the secret of my reputation, ruined perhaps for ever, is
  in your hands.
  
  "I shall certainly cry to-day. Good-by till our meeting, our _awful_
  meeting.--LISE.
  
  "P.S.--Alyosha! You must, must, must come!--LISE."
  
  Alyosha read the note in amazement, read it through twice, thought a
  little, and suddenly laughed a soft, sweet laugh. He started. That laugh
  seemed to him sinful. But a minute later he laughed again just as softly
  and happily. He slowly replaced the note in the envelope, crossed himself
  and lay down. The agitation in his heart passed at once. "God, have mercy
  upon all of them, have all these unhappy and turbulent souls in Thy
  keeping, and set them in the right path. All ways are Thine. Save them
  according to Thy wisdom. Thou art love. Thou wilt send joy to all!"
  Alyosha murmured, crossing himself, and falling into peaceful sleep.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
feat_summary_name: Book 3, Chapter 11
target: As night falls, Alyosha hurries back to the monastery. On the road he is suddenly accosted by a man who shouts, "Your money or your life!" Fortunately it's just Dmitri, who's decided to play a prank on Alyosha. Alyosha chastises him for being so light-hearted, especially given Dmitri's attack on their father earlier that day. Dmitri apologizes and tells his brother he loves him. Alyosha then tells Dmitri about Katerina's quarrel with Grushenka. At first Dmitri seems almost enraged, but as soon as he hears about Grushenka's joke on Katerina, he laughs heartily. Alyosha chides Dmitri for taking Katerina's insult so lightly. Chagrined, Dmitri remembers telling Grushenka how moved he was by Katerina's sacrifice for her father, and he thought Grushenka had sympathized with him. Realizing that Grushenka may have been mocking him the entire time, Dmitri denounces himself as a "scoundrel." Dmitri then tells Alyosha that a "horrible dishonor is being prepared," beating his chest with his fist. Then he runs off without telling Alyosha what the "horrible dishonor" is. Mystified by his brother's words, Alyosha continues on to the monastery, where the elder Zosima has already gone to bed. Father Paissy greets Alyosha at Zosima's chambers and reminds Alyosha that, despite being out in the world, he is still a novice monk under Zosima's orders and must remember his vows. After waiting by Zosima's bed as the elder sleeps, Alyosha returns to the outer chamber, where he takes off his boots to go to bed. He prays before his simple cot. He doesn't ask God for anything ; he only desires for the "tenderness" that comes with prayer. In the middle of his prayer, he happens to feel the envelope that Katerina's maid had left in his pocket. After finishing his prayer, he opens the envelope. It's a letter from Lise, the young daughter of Madame Khokhlakov. She professes her love for him but worries that her reputation will be ruined because of her letter. Alyosha laughs with joy as he finishes the letter and passes into a peaceful sleep.