“Stop babbling nonsense,” Rakitin cried. “You’d better bring us champagne, you owe it to me, you know!”

“It’s true, I owe it to him. I promised him champagne, Alyosha, on top of everything else, if he brought you to me. Let’s have champagne, I’ll drink, too! Fenya, Fenya, bring us champagne, the bottle Mitya left, run quickly. Though I’m stingy, I’ll stand you a bottle—not you, Rakitka, you’re a mushroom, but he is a prince! And though my soul is full of something else now, I’ll drink with you all the same, I want to be naughty!”

“But what is this moment of yours, and what, may I ask, is this message, or is it a secret?” Rakitin put in again with curiosity, pretending as hard as he could that he did not notice the barbs that kept coming at him.

“Eh, it’s no secret, and you know it yourself,” Grushenka suddenly said worriedly, turning to look at Rakitin and leaning back a little from Alyosha, though she stayed seated on his lap with her arm around his neck. “The officer is coming, Rakitin, my officer is coming!”

“I heard he was coming, but is he so nearby?”

“He’s at Mokroye now, he’ll send me a messenger from there, he wrote me so, the letter came just today. I’m sitting here waiting for the messenger.” “Aha! But why in Mokroye?”

“It’s a long story, I’ve told you enough.”

“Take that, Mitenka—ai, ai! Does he know?”

“Know? He doesn’t know anything. If he found out, he’d kill me. But now I’m not afraid at all, I’m not afraid of his knife now. Shut up, Rakitin, don’t remind me of Dmitri Fyodorovich: he’s turned my heart to mush. And I don’t want to think about anything right now. But I can think about Alyoshechka, I’m looking at Alyoshechka ... Smile at me, darling, cheer up, smile at my foolishness, at my joy ... He smiled, he smiled! What a tender look! You know, Alyosha, I keep thinking you must be angry with me because of two days ago, because of the young lady. I was a bitch, that’s what ... Only it’s still good that it happened that way. It was bad, and it was good,” Grushenka suddenly smiled meaningly, and a cruel little line suddenly flashed in her smile. “Mitya says she shouted: ‘She should be flogged! ‘ I must really have offended her. She invited me, wanted to win me over, to seduce me with her chocolate ... No,it’s good that it happened that way,”she smiled again.”But I’m still afraid you’re angry ...”

“Really,” Rakitin suddenly put in again with serious surprise, “she’s really afraid of you, Alyosha, chicken that you are.”

“To you he’s a chicken, Rakitin, that’s what ... because you have no conscience, that’s what! You see, I love him with my soul, that’s what! Do you believe me, Alyosha, that I love you with all my soul?”

“Ah, shameless! She’s confessing her love for you, Alexei!”

“Why not? I do love him.”

“And the officer? And the golden message from Mokroye?” “That’s one thing, and this is another. “ “Just like a woman!”

“Don’t make me angry, Rakitka,” Grushenka caught him up hotly. “That is one thing, and this is another. I love Alyosha differently. It’s true I had sly thoughts about you, Alyosha. I’m a low woman, I’m a violent woman, yet there are moments, Alyosha, when I look upon you as my conscience. I keep thinking: ‘How a man like him must despise a bad woman like me.’ I thought the same thing two days ago, as I was running home from the young lady’s. I noticed you long ago, Alyosha, and Mitya knows, I told him. And Mitya understands. Will you believe, Alyosha, really I look at you sometimes and feel ashamed, ashamed of myself ... And I don’t know, I don’t remember how it was that I started thinking about you, or when it was ...”

Fenya came in and placed a tray on the table, with an uncorked bottle of champagne and three full glasses on it.

“Here’s the champagne!” Rakitin cried. “You’re excited, Agrafena Alexandrovna, and beside yourself. You’ll drink a glass and start dancing. Ehh, even this they couldn’t get right,” he added, examining the champagne. “The old woman poured it in the kitchen, and they brought the bottle without the cork, and it’s warm. Well, let’s have it anyway.”

He went up to the table, took a glass, drank it in one gulp, and poured himself another.

“One doesn’t bump into champagne too often,” he said, licking his chops. “Hey, Alyosha, take a glass, prove yourself. What are we going to drink to? To the gates of paradise? Grusha, take a glass, drink with us to the gates of paradise.”

“What gates of paradise?”

She took her glass. Alyosha took his, sipped at it, and set the glass down again.

“No, I’d better not,” he smiled quietly.

“But you boasted . . .!” Rakitin cried.

“Then I won’t drink either,” Grushenka cut in, “I don’t want to anyway. Drink the whole bottle yourself, Rakitka. If Alyosha drinks, I’ll drink, too.”

“What sentimental slop!” Rakitin taunted. “And sitting on his lap all the while! Granted he has his grief, but what have you got? He rebelled against his God, he was going to gobble sausage...”

“Why so?”

“His elder died today, the elder Zosima, the saint.”

“The elder Zosima died!” Grushenka exclaimed. “Oh, Lord, I didn’t know!” She crossed herself piously. “Lord, but what am I doing now, sitting on his lap!” She suddenly gave a start as if in fright, jumped off his knees at once, and sat down on the sofa. Alyosha gave her a long, surprised look, and something seemed to light up in his face.

“Rakitin,” he suddenly said loudly and firmly, “don’t taunt me with having rebelled against my God. I don’t want to hold any anger against you, and therefore you be kinder, too. I’ve lost such a treasure as you never had, and you cannot judge me now. You’d do better to look here, at her: did you see how she spared me? I came here looking for a wicked soul—I was drawn to that, because I was low and wicked myself, but I found a true sister, I found a treasure—a loving soul ... She spared me just now ... I’m speaking of you, Agrafena Alexandrovna. You restored my soul just now.”

Alyosha was breathless and his lips began to tremble. He stopped.

“Really saved you, did she!” Rakitin laughed spitefully. “Yet she was going to eat you up, do you know that?”

“Stop, Rakitka!” Grushenka suddenly jumped up. “Be still, both of you. I’ll tell you everything now: you be still, Alyosha, because I feel ashamed of hearing such words from you, because I’m wicked, not good—that’s how I am. And you, Rakitka, be still because you’re lying. I did have such a low thought, of eating him up, but now you’re lying, it’s quite different now ... and I don’t want to hear any more from you, Rakitka!” Grushenka spoke all this with unusual excitement.

“Look at them—both senseless!” Rakitin hissed, staring at them both in amazement. “It’s crazy, I feel like I’m in a madhouse. They’ve both gone soft, they’ll start crying in a minute!”

“I will start crying, I will start crying!” Grushenka kept repeating. “He called me his sister, I’ll never forget it! Just know one thing, Rakitka, I may be wicked, but still I gave an onion.”

“An onion? Ah, the devil, they really have gone crazy!”

Rakitin was surprised at their exaltation, which offended and annoyed him, though he should have realized that everything had just come together for them both in such a way that their souls were shaken, which does not happen very often in life. But Rakitin, who could be quite sensitive in understanding everything that concerned himself, was quite crude in understanding the feelings and sensations of his neighbors—partly because of his youthful inexperience, and partly because of his great egoism.

“You see, Alyoshechka,” Grushenka turned to him, laughing nervously, “I’m boasting to Rakitka that I gave an onion, but I’m not boasting to you, I’ll tell you about it for a different reason. It’s just a fable, but a good fable, I heard it when I was still a child, from my Matryona who cooks for me now. It goes like this: Once upon a time there was a woman, and she was wicked as wicked could be, and she died. And not one good deed was left behind her. The devils took her and threw her into the lake of fire. And her guardian angel stood thinking: what good deed of hers can I remember to tell God? Then he remembered and said to God: once she pulled up an onion and gave it to a beggar woman. And God answered: now take that same onion, hold it out to her in the lake, let her take hold of it, and pull, and if you pull her out of the lake, she can go to paradise, but if the onion breaks, she can stay where she is. The angel ran to the woman and held out the onion to her: here, woman, he said, take hold of it and I’ll pull. And he began pulling carefully, and had almost pulled her all the way out, when other sinners in the lake saw her being pulled out and all began holding on to her so as to be pulled out with her. But the woman was wicked as wicked could be, and she began to kick them with her feet: ‘It’s me who’s getting pulled out, not you; it’s my onion, not yours.’ No sooner did she say it than the onion broke. And the woman fell back into the lake and is burning there to this day. And the angel wept and went away.^[230]That’s the fable, Alyosha, I know it by heart, because I myself am that wicked woman. I boasted to Rakitin that I gave an onion, but I’ll say it differently to you: in my whole life I’ve given just one little onion, that’s how much good I’ve done. And don’t praise me after that, Alyosha, don’t think I’m good, I’m wicked, wicked as can be, and if you praise me you’ll make me ashamed. Ah, let me confess everything: listen, Alyosha, I wanted so much to lure you here and pestered Rakitin so much that I even promised him twenty-five roubles if he’d bring you to me. No, wait, Rakitka!” She went briskly to the table, opened a drawer, got out a purse, and from the purse took a twenty-five-rouble bill.