The Brothers Karamazov

1 The Brothers Karamazov

Once I was bitten by a centipede, brother, and laid up a fort-
night with fever from it. Well, I felt a centipede biting at my
heart then — a noxious insect, you understand? I looked
her up and down. You’ve seen her? She’s a beauty. But she
was beautiful in another way then. At that moment she was
beautiful because she was noble, and I was a scoundrel; she
in all the grandeur of her generosity and sacrifice for her
father, and I — a bug! And, scoundrel as I was, she was al-
together at my mercy, body and soul. She was hemmed in.
I tell you frankly, that thought, that venomous thought, so
possessed my heart that it almost swooned with suspense. It
seemed as if there could be no resisting it; as though I should
act like a bug, like a venomous spider, without a spark of
pity. I could scarcely breathe. Understand, I should have
gone next day to ask for her hand, so that it might end hon-
ourably, so to speak, and that nobody would or could know.
For though I’m a man of base desires, I’m honest. And at
that very second some voice seemed to whisper in my ear,
‘But when you come to-morrow to make your proposal, that
girl won’t even see you; she’ll order her coachman to kick
you out of the yard. ‘Publish it through all the town,’ she
would say, ‘I’m not afraid of you.’ ‘I looked at the young lady,
my voice had not deceived me. That is how it would be, not
a doubt of it. I could see from her face now that I should be
turned out of the house. My spite was roused. I longed to
play her the nastiest swinish cad’s trick: to look at her with a
sneer, and on the spot where she stood before me to stun her
with a tone of voice that only a shopman could use.
‘Four thousand! What do you mean? I was joking. You’ve