“You seem very merry about it now,” observed Alyosha, looking into his face, which had suddenly grown brighter.
“But how could I tell that I didn’t care for her a bit! Ha ha! It appears after all I didn’t. And yet how she attracted me! How attractive she was just now when I made my speech! And do you know she attracts me awfully even now, yet how easy it is to leave her. Do you think I am boasting?”
“No, only perhaps it wasn’t love.”
“Alyosha,” laughed Ivan, “don’t make reflections about love, it’s unseemly for you. How you rushed into the discussion this morning! I’ve forgotten to kiss you for it.... But how she tormented me! It certainly was sitting by a ‘laceration.’ Ah, she knew how I loved her! She loved me and not Dmitri,” Ivan insisted gayly. “Her feeling for Dmitri was simply a self‐ laceration. All I told her just now was perfectly true, but the worst of it is, it may take her fifteen or twenty years to find out that she doesn’t care for Dmitri, and loves me whom she torments, and perhaps she may never find it out at all, in spite of her lesson to‐day. Well, it’s better so; I can simply go away for good. By the way, how is she now? What happened after I departed?”
Alyosha told him she had been hysterical, and that she was now, he heard, unconscious and delirious.
“Isn’t Madame Hohlakov laying it on?”
“I think not.”
“I must find out. Nobody dies of hysterics, though. They don’t matter. God gave woman hysterics as a relief. I won’t go to her at all. Why push myself forward again?”
“But you told her that she had never cared for you.”
“I did that on purpose. Alyosha, shall I call for some champagne? Let us drink to my freedom. Ah, if only you knew how glad I am!”