The Brothers Karamazov‘Ah, I told you before, father,’ he said, ‘that those boots were
no good. I could never walk properly in them.’ He fancied
it was his boots that made him stagger, but it was simply
weakness, really. He won’t live another week. Herzenstube
is looking after him. Now they are rich again — they’ve got
heaps of money.
‘They are rogues.’
‘Who are rogues?’
‘Doctors and the whole crew of quacks collectively, and
also, of course, individually. I don’t believe in medicine. It’s
a useless institution. I mean to go into all that. But what’s
that sentimentality you’ve got up there? The whole class
seems to be there every day.’
‘Not the whole class: it’s only ten of our fellows who go to
see him every day. There’s nothing in that.’
‘What I don’t understand in all this is the part that Alex-
ey Karamazov is taking in it. His brother’s going to be tried
to-morrow or next day for such a crime, and yet he has so
much time to spend on sentimentality with boys.’
‘There’s no sentimentality about it. You are going your-
self now to make it up with Ilusha.’
‘Make it up with him? What an absurd expression! But I
allow no one to analyse my actions.’
‘And how pleased Ilusha will be to see you! He has no idea
that you are coming. Why was it, why was it you wouldn’t
come all this time?’ Smurov cried with sudden warmth.
‘My dear boy, that’s my business, not yours.
I am going of myself because I choose to, but you’ve all
been hauled there by Alexey Karamazov — there’s a differ-