Page 1090 - the-brothers-karamazov

his spiritual father — a Jesuit. I was present, it was simply
charming. ‘Give me back my nose!’ he said, and he beat his
breast. ‘My son,’ said the priest evasively, ‘all things are ac-
complished in accordance with the inscrutable decrees of
Providence, and what seems a misfortune sometimes leads
to extraordinary, though unapparent, benefits. If stern des-
tiny has deprived you of your nose, it’s to your advantage
that no one can ever pull you by your nose.’ ‘Holy father,
that’s no comfort,’ cried the despairing marquis. ‘I’d be de-
lighted to have my nose pulled every day of my life, if it were
only in its proper place.’ ‘My son,’ sighs the priest, ‘you can’t
expect every blessing at once. This is murmuring against
Providence, who even in this has not forgotten you, for if
you repine as you repined just now, declaring you’d be glad
to have your nose pulled for the rest of your life, your desire
has already been fulfilled indirectly, for when you lost your
nose, you were led by the nose.’
‘Fool, how stupid!’ cried Ivan.
‘My dear friend, I only wanted to amuse you. But I swear
that’s the genuine Jesuit casuistry and I swear that it all hap-
pened word for word as I’ve told you. It happened lately and
gave me a great deal of trouble. The unhappy young man
shot himself that very night when he got home. I was by his
side till the very last moment. Those Jesuit confessionals are
really my most delightful diversion at melancholy moments.
Here’s another incident that happened only the other day. A
little blonde Norman girl of twenty — a buxom, unsophis-
ticated beauty that would make your mouth water — comes
to an old priest. She bends down and whispers her sin into

10