Subpages
A Young Man Bent on a Career
Alyosha helped Father Zossima to his bedroom and seated him on his bed. It was a little room furnished with the bare necessities. There was a narrow iron bedstead, with a strip of felt for a mattress. In the corner, under the ikons, was a reading-desk with a cross and the Gospel lying on it. The elder sank exhausted on the bed. His eyes glittered and he breathed hard. He looked intently at Alyosha, as though considering something.
"Go, my dear boy, go. Porfiry is enough for me. Make haste, you
are needed there, go and wait at the Father Superior's table."
"Let me stay here," Alyosha entreated.
"You are more needed there. There is no peace there. You will
wait, and be of service. If evil spirits rise up, repeat a prayer. And
remember, my son"- the elder liked to call him that- "this is not
the place for you in the future. When it is God's will to call me, leave the monastery. Go away for good."
Alyosha started.
"What is it? This is not your place for the time. I bless you
for great service in the world. Yours will be a long pilgrimage. And
you will have to take a wife, too. You will have to bear all before
you come back. There will be much to do. But I don't doubt of you, and
so I send you forth. Christ is with you. Do not abandon Him and He
will not abandon you. You will see great sorrow, and in that sorrow
you will be happy. This is my last message to you: in sorrow seek
happiness. Work, work unceasingly. Remember my words, for although I
shall talk with you again, not only my days but my hours are
numbered."
Alyosha's face again betrayed strong emotion. The corners of his
mouth quivered.
"What is it again?" Father Zossima asked, smiling gently. "The
worldly may follow the dead with tears, but here we rejoice over the
father who is departing. We rejoice and pray for him. Leave me, I must
pray. Go, and make haste. Be near your brothers. And not near one
only, but near both."
Father Zossima raised his hand to bless him. Alyosha could make no
protest, though he had a great longing to remain. He longed, moreover, to ask the significance of his bowing to Dmitri, the question was on the tip of his tongue, but he dared not ask it. He knew that the elder would have explained it unasked if he had thought fit. But evidently it was not his will. That action had made a terrible impression on Alyosha; he believed blindly in its mysterious significance. Mysterious, and perhaps awful.
As he hastened out of the hermatage precincts to reach the
monastery in time to serve at the Father Superior's dinner, he felt
a sudden pang at his heart, and stopped short. He seemed to hear again
Father Zossima's words, foretelling his approaching end. What he had
foretold so exactly must infallibly come to pass. Alyosha believed
that implicitly. But how could he go? He had told him not to weep, and
to leave the monastery. Good God! It was long since Alyosha had
known such anguish. He hurried through the copse that divided the
monastery from the hermitage, and unable to bear the burden of his
thoughts, he gazed at the ancient pines beside the path. He had not
far to go- about five hundred paces. He expected to meet no one at
that hour, but at the first turn of the path he noticed Rakitin. He
was waiting for someone.
"Are you waiting for me?" asked Alyosha, overtaking him.
"Yes," grinned Rakitin. "You are hurrying to the Father
Superior, I know; he has a banquet. There's not been such a banquet
since the Superior entertained the Bishop and General Pahatov, do
you remember? I shan't be there, but you go and hand the sauces. Tell me one thing, Alexey, what does that vision mean? That's what I want to ask you."
"What vision?"
"That bowing to your brother, Dmitri. And didn't he tap the ground
with his forehead, too!"
"You speak of Father Zossima?"
"Yes, of Father Zossima,"
"Tapped the ground?"
"Ah, an irreverent expression! Well, what of it? Anyway, what does
that vision mean?"
"I don't know what it means, Misha."
