“She will be praying all night now to the Mother of God to show her how to act to‐morrow at the trial,” he said sharply and angrily again.
“You ... you mean Katerina Ivanovna?”
“Yes. Whether she’s to save Mitya or ruin him. She’ll pray for light from above. She can’t make up her mind for herself, you see. She has not had time to decide yet. She takes me for her nurse, too. She wants me to sing lullabies to her.”
“Katerina Ivanovna loves you, brother,” said Alyosha sadly.
“Perhaps; but I am not very keen on her.”
“She is suffering. Why do you ... sometimes say things to her that give her hope?” Alyosha went on, with timid reproach. “I know that you’ve given her hope. Forgive me for speaking to you like this,” he added.
“I can’t behave to her as I ought—break off altogether and tell her so straight out,” said Ivan, irritably. “I must wait till sentence is passed on the murderer. If I break off with her now, she will avenge herself on me by ruining that scoundrel to‐morrow at the trial, for she hates him and knows she hates him. It’s all a lie—lie upon lie! As long as I don’t break off with her, she goes on hoping, and she won’t ruin that monster, knowing how I want to get him out of trouble. If only that damned verdict would come!”
The words “murderer” and “monster” echoed painfully in Alyosha’s heart.
“But how can she ruin Mitya?” he asked, pondering on Ivan’s words. “What evidence can she give that would ruin Mitya?”
“You don’t know that yet. She’s got a document in her hands, in Mitya’s own writing, that proves conclusively that he did murder Fyodor Pavlovitch.”