Othello was incapable of ****** up his mind to faithlessness-not incapable of forgiving it, but of ****** up his mind to it- though his soul was as innocent and free from malice as a babe's.It is not so with the really jealous man.It is hard to imagine what some jealous men can make up their mind to and overlook, and what they can forgive! The jealous are the readiest of all to forgive, and all women know it.The jealous man can forgive extraordinarily quickly (though, of course, after a violent scene), and he is able to forgive infidelity almost conclusively proved, the very kisses and embraces he has seen, if only he can somehow be convinced that it has all been "for the last time," and that his rival will vanish from that day forward, will depart to the ends of the earth, or that he himself will carry her away somewhere, where that dreaded rival will not get near her.Of course the reconciliation is only for an hour.For, even if the rival did disappear next day, he would invent another one and would be jealous of him.And one might wonder what there was in a love that had to be so watched over, what a love could be worth that needed such strenuous guarding.But that the jealous will never understand.And yet among them are men of noble hearts.It is remarkable, too, that those very men of noble hearts, standing hidden in some cupboard, listening and spying, never feel the stings of conscience at that moment, anyway, though they understand clearly enough with their "noble hearts" the shameful depths to which they have voluntarily sunk.
At the sight of Grushenka, Mitya's jealousy vanished, and, for an instant he became trustful and generous, and positively despised himself for his evil feelings.But it only proved that, in his love for the woman, there was an element of something far higher than he himself imagined, that it was not only a sensual passion, not only the "curve of her body," of which he had talked to Alyosha.But, as soon as Grushenka had gone, Mitya began to suspect her of all the low cunning of faithlessness, and he felt no sting of conscience at it.
And so jealousy surged up in him again.He had, in any case, to make haste.The first thing to be done was to get hold of at least a small, temporary loan of money.The nine roubles had almost all gone on his expedition.And, as we all know, one can't take a step without money.But he had thought over in the cart where he could get a loan.He had a brace of fine duelling pistols in a case, which he had not pawned till then because he prized them above all his possessions.
In the Metropolis tavern he had some time since made acquaintance with a young official and had learnt that this very opulent bachelor was passionately fond of weapons.He used to buy pistols, revolvers, daggers, hang them on his wall and show them to acquaintances.He prided himself on them, and was quite a specialist on the mechanism of the revolver.Mitya, without stopping to think, went straight to him, and offered to pawn his pistols to him for ten roubles.The official, delighted, began trying to persuade him to sell them outright.But Mitya would not consent, so the young man gave him ten roubles, protesting that nothing would induce him to take interest.They parted friends.
Mitya was in haste; he rushed towards Fyodor Pavlovitch's by the back way, to his arbour, to get hold of Smerdyakov as soon as possible.In this way the fact was established that three or four hours before a certain event, of which I shall speak later on, Mitya had not a farthing, and pawned for ten roubles a possession he valued, though, three hours later, he was in possession of thousands....But Iam anticipating.From Marya Kondratyevna (the woman living near Fyodor Pavlovitch's) he learned the very disturbing fact of Smerdyakov's illness.He heard the story of his fall in the cellar, his fit, the doctor's visit, Fyodor Pavlovitch's anxiety; he heard with interest, too, that his brother Ivan had set off that morning for Moscow.
"Then he must have driven through Volovya before me," thought Dmitri, but he was terribly distressed about Smerdyakov."What will happen now? Who'll keep watch for me? Who'll bring me word?" he thought.He began greedily questioning the women whether they had seen anything the evening before.They quite understood what he was trying to find out, and completely reassured him.No one had been there.Ivan Fyodorovitch had been there that night; everything had been perfectly as usual.Mitya grew thoughtful.He would certainly have to keep watch to-day, but where? Here or at Samsonov's gate? He decided that he must be on the lookout both here and there, and meanwhile...meanwhile...The difficulty was that he had to carry out the new plan that he had made on the journey back.He was sure of its success, but he must not delay acting upon it.Mitya resolved to sacrifice an hour to it: "In an hour I shall know everything, Ishall settle everything, and then, then, then, first of all to Samsonov's.I'll inquire whether Grushenka's there and instantly be back here again, stay till eleven, and then to Samsonov's again to bring her home." This was what he decided.
He flew home, washed, combed his hair, brushed his clothes, dressed, and went to Madame Hohlakov's.Alas! he had built his hopes on her.He had resolved to borrow three thousand from that lady.And what was more, he felt suddenly convinced that she would not refuse to lend it to him.It may be wondered why, if he felt so certain, he had not gone to her at first, one of his own sort, so to speak, instead of to Samsonov, a man he did not know, who was not of his own class, and to whom he hardly knew how to speak.
