The Brothers Karamazovnothing matters now,’ Alyosha answered warmly, feeling
a rush of hope in his heart and believing that there really
might be a way of escape and salvation for his brother. ‘But
do you know about the money?’ he added, and suddenly
broke off.
‘I’ve known of it a long time; I telegraphed to Moscow to
inquire, and heard long ago that the money had not arrived.
He hadn’t sent the money, but I said nothing. Last week I
learnt that he was still in need of money. My only object in
all this was that he should know to whom to turn, and who
was his true friend. No, he won’t recognise that I am his
truest friend; he won’t know me, and looks on me merely as
a woman. I’ve been tormented all the week, trying to think
how to prevent him from being ashamed to face me because
he spent that three thousand. Let him feel ashamed of him-
self, let him be ashamed of other people’s knowing, but not
of my knowing. He can tell God everything without shame.
Why is it he still does not understand how much I am ready
to bear for his sake? Why, why doesn’t he know me? How
dare he not know me after all that has happened? I want
to save him for ever. Let him forget me as his betrothed.
And here he fears that he is dishonoured in my eyes. Why,
he wasn’t afraid to be open with you, Alexey Fyodorovitch.
How is it that I don’t deserve the same?’
The last words she uttered in tears. Tears gushed from
her eyes.
‘I must tell you,’ Alyosha began, his voice trembling too,
‘what happened just now between him and my father.’
And he described the whole scene, how Dmitri had sent