Demons

"You haven't taken to respecting me after these pages?" Stavrogin gri

"To that I shall not respond directly. But, of course, there is not and ca

"Let's quit putting a yardstick to it. I'm somewhat surprised at your opinion about other people and the ordinariness of such a crime. Perhaps I don't suffer nearly as much as I've written here, and perhaps I've really heaped too many lies on myself," he added unexpectedly.

Tikhon once more held his peace. Stavrogin was not even thinking of leaving; on the contrary, he again began to lapse at moments into deep pensiveness.

"And this girl," Tikhon began again, very timidly, "with whom you broke off in Switzerland, is, if I may ask ... where is she at the present moment?"

"Here."

Again silence.

"Perhaps I was indeed heaping lies on myself," Stavrogin repeated insistently once more. "However, what of it if I'm challenging them by the coarseness of my confession, since you did notice the challenge? I'll make them hate me even more, that's all. And so much the easier for me."

"That is, their hatred will evoke yours, and, hating, it will be easier for you than if you were to accept their pity?"

"You're right. You know," he suddenly laughed, "I may well be called a Jesuit and a pious hypocrite, ha, ha, ha! Right?"

"Of course, there will be such an opinion. And how soon do you hope to carry out this intention?"

"Today, tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, how do I know? Only very soon. You're right: I think what's precisely going to happen is that I'll make it public unexpectedly and precisely at some vengeful, hateful moment, when I'm hating them most of all."

"Answer one question, but sincerely, for me alone, only me: if someone forgave you for that" (Tikhon pointed to the pages), "and not someone of those you respect or fear, but a stranger, a man you will never know, silently, reading your terrible confession to himself, would this thought make it easier for you, or would it make no difference?"

"Easier," Stavrogin replied in a soft voice, lowering his eyes. "If you were to forgive me, it would be much easier for me," he added unexpectedly and in a half-whisper.

"And you me, as well," Tikhon said in a deeply moved voice.

"What for? what have you done to me? Ah, yes, it's a monastery formula?"

"For my sins both voluntary and involuntary.[223] In si

"I'll tell you the whole truth: I wish you to forgive me, and another with you, and a third, but the rest—the rest had better hate me. But I wish it in order to endure with humility..."

"And universal pity you would not be able to endure with the same humility?"

"Perhaps I wouldn't. You picked that up very nicely. But. . . why are you doing this?"

"I feel the degree of your sincerity and, of course, am much to blame for not knowing how to approach people. I've always felt it to be my greatest failing," Tikhon said sincerely and feelingly, looking straight into Stavrogin's eyes. "It's only because I fear for you," he added, "there is an almost impassible abyss before you."

"That I won't endure? that I won't endure theirhatred with humility?"

"Not only their hatred."

"And what else?"

"Their laughter," escaped from Tikhon, almost as if despite himself and in a half-whisper.

Stavrogin became embarrassed; uneasiness showed in his face.

"I anticipated that," he said. "So, then, I appeared as a very comical character to you on reading my 'document,' in spite of the whole tragedy? Don't worry, don't be put out ... I did anticipate it."

"There will be horror on all sides, and, of course, more false than sincere. People fear only what directly threatens their personal interests. I'm not speaking of the pure souls: they will be horrified and will blame themselves, but they will not be noticeable. The laughter, however, will be universal."

"Add to that the thinker's observation that there is always something pleasing in another man's calamity."

"A correct thought."

"You, however ... you yourself... I'm surprised at how badly you think of people, with what loathing," Stavrogin said, looking somewhat resentful.

"And yet, believe me, I said it judging more by myself than about other people," Tikhon exclaimed.

"Really? Can there indeed be at least something in your soul that finds amusement here in my calamity?"

"Who knows, perhaps there is. Oh, perhaps there is!"

"Enough. Show me, then, precisely what makes me ridiculous in my manuscript? I know what, but I want you to point your finger to it. And say it nice and cynically, say it with all the sincerity you're capable of. And I'll also tell you again that you are a terribly odd man."

"Even the form of this truly great repentance has something ridiculous in it. Oh, do not believe that you will not win!" he suddenly exclaimed almost in ecstasy. "Even this form will win" (he pointed to the pages), "if only you sincerely accept the beating and the spitting.[224]In the end it has always been that the most disgraceful cross becomes a great glory and a great power, if the humility of the deed is sincere.

It may even be that you will be comforted in your own lifetime! ..."

"So, in the form alone, in the style, you find something ridiculous?" Stavrogin persisted.

"And in the essence. The uncomeliness will kill it," Tikhon whispered, lowering his eyes.

"What, sir? Uncomeliness? The uncomeliness of what?"

"Of the crime. There are crimes that are truly uncomely. With crimes, whatever they may be, the more blood, the more horror there is, the more imposing they are, the more picturesque, so to speak; but there are crimes that are shameful, disgraceful, all horror aside, so to speak, even far too ungracious..."

Tikhon did not finish.

"That is," Stavrogin picked up in agitation, "you find I made quite a ridiculous figure when I was kissing the dirty little girl's foot... and all that I said about my temperament and... well, and all the rest ... I understand. I understand you very well. And you despair of me precisely because it is uncomely, vile, no, not really vile, but shameful, ridiculous, and you think it's this, rather than anything else, that I won't be able to endure?"

Tikhon was silent.

"Yes, you do know people, that is, you know that I, precisely I, will not be able to endure ... I understand why you asked about the young lady from Switzerland, whether she was here."

"You're not prepared, not tempered," Tikhon whispered timidly, with lowered eyes.

"Listen, Father Tikhon: I want to forgive myself, and that is my chief goal, my whole goal!" Stavrogin said suddenly, with grim rapture in his eyes. "I know that only then will the apparition vanish. That is why I am seeking boundless suffering, seeking it myself. So do not frighten me."

"If you believe that you can forgive yourself and can attain to this forgiveness in this world, then you believe everything!" Tikhon exclaimed rapturously. "How is it that you say you do not believe in God?"