The Brothers Karamazov
only thirsted for the joyous emotion, which always visited
his soul after the praise and adoration, of which his evening
prayer usually consisted. That joy always brought him light
untroubled sleep. As he was praying, he suddenly felt in his
pocket the little pink note the servant had handed him as he
left Katerina Ivanovna’s. He was disturbed, but finished his
prayer. Then, after some hesitation, he opened the envelope.
In it was a letter to him, signed by Lise, the young daughter
of Madame Hohlakov, who had laughed at him before the
elder in the morning.
‘Alexey Fyodorovitch,’ she wrote, ‘I am writing to you
without anyone’s knowledge, even mamma’s, and I know
how wrong it is. But I cannot live without telling you the
feeling that has sprung up in my heart, and this no one but
us two must know for a time. But how am I to say what I
want so much to tell you? Paper, they say, does not blush, but
I assure you it’s not true and that it’s blushing just as I am
now, all over. Dear Alyosha, I love you, I’ve loved you from
my childhood, since our Moscow days, when you were very
different from what you are now, and I shall love you all my
life. My heart has chosen you, to unite our lives, and pass
them together till our old age. Of course, on condition that
you will leave the monastery. As for our age we will wait for
the time fixed by the law. By that time I shall certainly be
quite strong, I shall be walking and dancing. There can be
no doubt of that.
‘You see how I’ve thought of everything. There’s only one
thing I can’t imagine: what you’ll think of me when you
read this. I’m always laughing and being naughty. I made