The Brothers Karamazov
Kolya smiled with a sort of sly happiness.
‘Why ashamed?’
‘Well, why are you blushing?’
‘It was you made me blush,’ laughed Alyosha, and he re-
ally did blush. ‘Oh, well, I am a little, goodness knows why,
I don’t know...’ he muttered, almost embarrassed.
‘Oh, how I love you and admire you at this moment just
because you are rather ashamed! Because you are just like
me,’ cried Kolya, in positive ecstasy. His cheeks glowed, his
eyes beamed.
‘You know, Kolya, you will be very unhappy in your life,’
something made Alyosha say suddenly.
‘I know, I know. How you know it all before hand!’ Kolya
agreed at once.
‘But you will bless life on the whole, all the same.’
‘Just so, hurrah! You are a prophet. Oh, we shall get on to-
gether, Karamazov! Do you know, what delights me most, is
that you treat me quite like an equal. But we are not equals,
no, we are not, you are better! But we shall get on. Do you
know, all this last month, I’ve been saying to myself, ‘Either
we shall be friends at once, for ever, or we shall part enemies
to the grave!’’
‘And saying that, of course, you loved me,’ Alyosha
laughed gaily.
‘I did. I loved you awfully. I’ve been loving and dream-
ing of you. And how do you know it all beforehand? Ah,
here’s the doctor. Goodness! What will he tell us? Look at
his face!’