1 The Brothers Karamazov
kept watch on her, for they knew that if she saw thousands
of roubles overlooked by them, she would not have touched
a farthing. She scarcely ever went to church. She slept ei-
ther in the church porch or climbed over a hurdle (there
are many hurdles instead of fences to this day in our town)
into a kitchen garden. She used at least once a week to turn
up ‘at home,’ that is at the house of her father’s former em-
ployers, and in the winter went there every night, and slept
either in the passage or the cow-house. People were amazed
that she could stand such a life, but she was accustomed to
it, and, although she was so tiny, she was of a robust con-
stitution. Some of the townspeople declared that she did all
this only from pride, but that is hardly credible. She could
hardly speak, and only from time to time uttered an inar-
ticulate grunt. How could she have been proud?
It happened one clear, warm, moonlight night in Sep-
tember (many years ago) five or six drunken revellers were
returning from the club at a very late hour, according to
our provincial notions. They passed through the ‘backway,’
which led between the back gardens of the houses, with hur-
dles on either side. This way leads out on to the bridge over
the long, stinking pool which we were accustomed to call a
river. Among the nettles and burdocks under the hurdle our
revellers saw Lizaveta asleep. They stopped to look at her,
laughing, and began jesting with unbridled licentiousness.
It occurred to one young gentleman to make the whimsical
inquiry whether anyone could possibly look upon such an
animal as a woman, and so forth.... They all pronounced
with lofty repugnance that it was impossible. But Fyodor