The Brothers Karamazoving, ‘I’ll confess I lost my temper with you this morning,
and you confirm it,’ simply in order to have something to
say. Alyosha knew that this actually happened sometimes.
He knew, too, that there were among the monks some who
deep resented the fact that letters from relations were ha-
bitually taken to the elder, to be opened and read by him
before those to whom they were addressed.
It was assumed, of course, that all this was done freely,
and in good faith, by way of voluntary submission and salu-
tary guidance. But, in fact, there was sometimes no little
insincerity, and much that was false and strained in this
practice. Yet the older and more experienced of the monks
adhered to their opinion, arguing that ‘for those who have
come within these walls sincerely seeking salvation, such
obedience and sacrifice will certainly be salutary and of
great benefit; those, on the other hand, who find it irksome,
and repine, are no true monks, and have made a mistake in
entering the monastery — their proper place is in the world.
Even in the temple one cannot be safe from sin and the dev-
il. So it was no good taking it too much into account.’
‘He is weaker, a drowsiness has come over him,’ Father
Paissy whispered to Alyosha, as he blessed him. ‘It’s diffi-
cult to rouse him. And he must not be roused. He waked
up for five minutes, sent his blessing to the brothers, and
begged their prayers for him at night. He intends to take
the sacrament again in the morning. He remembered you,
Alexey. He asked whether you had gone away, and was told
that you were in the town. ‘I blessed him for that work,’ he
said, ‘his place is there, not here, for awhile.’ Those were his