11 The Brothers Karamazov
marry me, because I’d inherited a fortune, because of that,
because of that! I always suspected it was because of that!
Oh, he is a brute! He was always convinced that I should be
trembling with shame all my life before him, because I went
to him then, and that he had a right to despise me forever
for it, and so to be superior to me — that’s why he wanted
to marry me! That’s so, that’s all so! I tried to conquer him
by my love — a love that knew no bounds. I even tried to
forgive his faithlessness; but he understood nothing, noth-
ing! How could he understand indeed? He is a monster! I
only received that letter the next evening: it was brought me
from the tavern — and only that morning, only that morn-
ing I wanted to forgive him everything, everything — even
his treachery!’
The President and the prosecutor, of course, tried to calm
her. I can’t help thinking that they felt ashamed of taking
advantage of her hysteria and of listening to such avowals.
I remember hearing them say to her, ‘We understand how
hard it is for you; be sure we are able to feel for you,’ and so
on, and so on. And yet they dragged the evidence out of the
raving, hysterical woman. She described at last with extraor-
dinary clearness, which is so often seen, though only for a
moment, in such overwrought states, how Ivan had been
nearly driven out of his mind during the last two months
trying to save ‘the monster and murderer,’ his brother.
‘He tortured himself,’ she exclaimed, ‘he was always try-
ing to minimise his brother’s guilt and confessing to me
that he, too, had never loved his father, and perhaps desired
his death himself. Oh, he has a tender, over-tender con-