The Brothers Karamazov
am to tell you so!’
‘Lise!’ said her mother impressively, though she smiled
after she had said it.
‘You have quite forgotten us, Alexey Fyodorovitch,’ she
said; ‘you never come to see us. Yet Lise has told me twice
that she is never happy except with you.’
Alyosha raised his downcast eyes and again flushed, and
again smiled without knowing why. But the elder was no
longer watching him. He had begun talking to a monk who,
as mentioned before, had been awaiting his entrance by
Lise’s chair. He was evidently a monk of the humblest, that
is of the peasant, class, of a narrow outlook, but a true be-
liever, and, in his own way, a stubborn one. He announced
that he had come from the far north, from Obdorsk, from
Saint Sylvester, and was a member of a poor monastery,
consisting of only ten monks. The elder gave him his bless-
ing and invited him to come to his cell whenever he liked.
‘How can you presume to do such deeds?’ the monk
asked suddenly, pointing solemnly and significantly at Lise.
He was referring to her ‘healing.’
‘It’s too early, of course, to speak of that. Relief is not
complete cure, and may proceed from different causes. But
if there has been any healing, it is by no power but God’s
will. It’s all from God. Visit me, Father,’ he added to the
monk. ‘It’s not often I can see visitors. I am ill, and I know
that my days are numbered.’
‘Oh, no, no! God will not take you from us. You will live
a long, long time yet,’ cried the lady. ‘And in what way are
you ill? You look so well, so gay and happy.’