The Brothers Karamazov
take a more and more lenient view of him. ‘He was a man
of good heart, perhaps,’ he thought, ‘who had come to grief
from drinking and dissipation.’ His first horror had been
succeeded by pity. As for Alyosha, the police captain was
very fond of him and had known him for a long time. Raki-
tin, who had of late taken to coming very often to see the
prisoner, was one of the most intimate acquaintances of the
‘police captain’s young ladies,’ as he called them, and was
always hanging about their house. He gave lessons in the
house of the prison superintendent, too, who, though scru-
pulous in the performance of his duties, was a kindhearted
old man. Alyosha, again, had an intimate acquaintance of
long standing with the superintendent, who was fond of
talking to him, generally on sacred subjects. He respected
Ivan Fyodorovitch, and stood in awe of his opinion, though
he was a great philosopher himself; ‘self-taught,’ of course.
But Alyosha had an irresistible attraction for him. During
the last year the old man had taken to studying the Apoc-
ryphal Gospels, and constantly talked over his impressions
with his young friend. He used to come and see him in the
monastery and discussed for hours together with him and
with the monks. So even if Alyosha were late at the pris-
on, he had only to go to the superintendent and everything
was made easy. Besides, everyone in the prison, down to the
humblest warder, had grown used to Alyosha. The sentry, of
course, did not trouble him so long as the authorities were
satisfied.
When Mitya was summoned from his cell, he always
went downstairs, to the place set aside for interviews. As