Page 649 - the-brothers-karamazov

tri Fyodorovitch, people don’t know that side of me. I wrote
a letter to the author, Shtchedrin, on that subject. He has
taught me so much, so much about the vocation of woman.
So last year I sent him an anonymous letter of two lines: ‘I
kiss and embrace you, my teacher, for the modern wom-
an. Persevere.’ And I signed myself, ‘A Mother.’ I thought of
signing myself ‘A contemporary Mother,’ and hesitated, but
I stuck to the simple ‘Mother’; there’s more moral beauty
in that, Dmitri Fyodorovitch. And the word ‘contemporary’
might have reminded him of The Contemporary — a pain-
ful recollection owing to the censorship.... Good Heavens,
what is the matter!’
‘Madam!’ cried Mitya, jumping up at last, clasping his
hands before her in helpless entreaty. ‘You will make me
weep if you delay what you have so generously-.’
‘Oh, do weep, Dmitri Fyodorovitch, do weep! That’s a
noble feeling... such a path lies open before you! Tears will
ease your heart, and later on you will return rejoicing. You
will hasten to me from Siberia on purpose to share your joy
with me-.’
‘But allow me, too!’ Mitya cried suddenly.
‘For the last time I entreat you, tell me, can I have the sum
you promised me to-day, if not, when may I come for it?’
‘What sum, Dmitri Fyodorovitch?’
‘The three thousand you promised me... that you so gen-
erously-.’
‘Three thousand? Roubles? Oh, no, I haven’t got three
thousand,’ Madame Hohlakov announced with serene
amazement. Mitya was stupefied.

The Brothers Karamazov