Alexis turned giddy. His spirits took wild wings; his heart now sank, now throbbed, as if it would burst; he thought he would die of joy. Present, Past and Future—all had disappeared. He remembered, saw, felt, only one thing, his father’s love. It might only be for a moment. What of it? To pay for the happiness of this moment, a whole life of torment would be nothing. He longed to speak out and confess everything.
Peter, as if divining his thought, touched his hand with a gentle caress.
“Tell me, Aliósha, all about your flight.”
The Tsarevitch felt that the moment had come which would decide his fate, and that suddenly what he had tried to ignore, ever since he had first resolved to return to his father, lay clearly before him. A choice was inevitable; he had either to relate everything without restraint, name his accomplices, and betray his friends; or else deny everything, and so doing allow the insurmountable barrier-wall to grow up, the bottomless abyss between himself and his father to open anew.
He remained silent, his eyes cast down, afraid lest the unfamiliar, terrible death-mask face had taken the place of the loved one. At last he got up, approached his father and fell on his knees before him. Lisette, who had been sleeping on a cushion at Peter’s feet, woke up, rose and went away leaving her place to Alexis. He sank down on the cushion. Were it but possible to remain for ever at his father’s feet, like a dog, looking into his eyes, waiting to be fondled, petted.
“I will tell you everything, only forgive them all, as you have forgiven me,” said he, with a look of intense adoration. His father stooped and laid his hands on Alexis’ shoulders with the same gentle tenderness:—
“Listen, Aliósha! How can I forgive while ignorant of both the innocent and the guilty? I can forgive so far as I myself am concerned, but not a crime against the country. God will ask me to account for this. He who tolerates evil, works evil himself. One thing I can promise, I will pardon all those you name, but terrible penalties will fall on those whose names you conceal. Therefore, be not a traitor, but the protector of your friends, conceal nothing from me, tell me everything. Don’t be afraid, I will hurt no one. We will think it all over between us.”
Alexis remained silent. Peter embraced him, pressed his head against his breast, and added with a heavy sigh:—
“Aliósha, Aliósha, could you but see my heart, know my grief! It fares sadly with me! I have no one to help me, I am always alone. All are enemies, evildoers, you at least have compassion on me. Be my friend, or do you not want to? Do you not love me?”
“I love you, my dearest father!” whispered Alexis with that same timid tenderness, as in his childhood, when his father would sometimes secretly come at night and take his sleeping boy up in his arms. “I will tell you all, all, ask me?”