10 The Brothers Karamazov
of what’s good for Himself, and nothing but nastiness is left
for me. But I don’t envy the honour of a life of idle impos-
ture, I am not ambitious. Why am I, of all creatures in the
world, doomed to be cursed by all decent people and even
to be kicked, for if I put on mortal form I am bound to take
such consequences sometimes? I know, of course, there’s a
secret in it, but they won’t tell me the secret for anything,
for then perhaps, seeing the meaning of it, I might bawl ho-
sannah, and the indispensable minus would disappear at
once, and good sense would reign supreme throughout the
whole world. And that, of course, would mean the end of
everything, even of magazines and newspapers, for who
would take them in? I know that at the end of all things I
shall be reconciled. I, too, shall walk my quadrillion and
learn the secret. But till that happens I am sulking and ful-
fil my destiny though it’s against the grain — that is, to ruin
thousands for the sake of saving one. How many souls have
had to be ruined and how many honourable reputations de-
stroyed for the sake of that one righteous man, Job, over
whom they made such a fool of me in old days! Yes, till the
secret is revealed, there are two sorts of truths for me — one,
their truth, yonder, which I know nothing about so far, and
the other my own. And there’s no knowing which will turn
out the better.... Are you asleep?’
‘I might well be,’ Ivan groaned angrily. ‘All my stupid
ideas- outgrown, thrashed out long ago, and flung aside like
a dead carcass you present to me as something new!’
‘There’s no pleasing you! And I thought I should fasci-
nate you by my literary style. That hosannah in the skies