Satan, with scorched wings, in thunder and lightning. But he is not Satan:
that's a lie. He is an impostor. He is simply a devil--a paltry, trivial
devil. He goes to the baths. If you undressed him, you'd be sure to find
he had a tail, long and smooth like a Danish dog's, a yard long, dun
color.... Alyosha, you are cold. You've been in the snow. Would you like
some tea? What? Is it cold? Shall I tell her to bring some? _C'est a ne
pas mettre un chien dehors._..."

Alyosha ran to the washing-stand, wetted the towel, persuaded Ivan to sit
down again, and put the wet towel round his head. He sat down beside him.

"What were you telling me just now about Lise?" Ivan began again. (He was
becoming very talkative.) "I like Lise. I said something nasty about her.
It was a lie. I like her ... I am afraid for Katya to-morrow. I am more
afraid of her than of anything. On account of the future. She will cast me
off to-morrow and trample me under foot. She thinks that I am ruining
Mitya from jealousy on her account! Yes, she thinks that! But it's not so.
To-morrow the cross, but not the gallows. No, I shan't hang myself. Do you
know, I can never commit suicide, Alyosha. Is it because I am base? I am
not a coward. Is it from love of life? How did I know that Smerdyakov had
hanged himself? Yes, it was _he_ told me so."

"And you are quite convinced that there has been some one here?" asked
Alyosha.

"Yes, on that sofa in the corner. You would have driven him away. You did
drive him away: he disappeared when you arrived. I love your face,
Alyosha. Did you know that I loved your face? And _he_ is myself, Alyosha.
All that's base in me, all that's mean and contemptible. Yes, I am a
romantic. He guessed it ... though it's a libel. He is frightfully stupid;
but it's to his advantage. He has cunning, animal cunning--he knew how to
infuriate me. He kept taunting me with believing in him, and that was how
he made me listen to him. He fooled me like a boy. He told me a great deal
that was true about myself, though. I should never have owned it to
myself. Do you know, Alyosha," Ivan added in an intensely earnest and
confidential tone, "I should be awfully glad to think that it was _he_ and
not I."

"He has worn you out," said Alyosha, looking compassionately at his
brother.

"He's been teasing me. And you know he does it so cleverly, so cleverly.
'Conscience! What is conscience? I make it up for myself. Why am I
tormented by it? From ha