ssed his
hand greedily to her lips. Tears streamed from her eyes. Alyosha stood
speechless and confounded; he had never expected what he was seeing.

"Love is over, Mitya!" Katya began again, "but the past is painfully dear
to me. Know that you will always be so. But now let what might have been
come true for one minute," she faltered, with a drawn smile, looking into
his face joyfully again. "You love another woman, and I love another man,
and yet I shall love you for ever, and you will love me; do you know that?
Do you hear? Love me, love me all your life!" she cried, with a quiver
almost of menace in her voice.

"I shall love you, and ... do you know, Katya," Mitya began, drawing a
deep breath at each word, "do you know, five days ago, that same evening,
I loved you.... When you fell down and were carried out ... All my life!
So it will be, so it will always be--"

So they murmured to one another frantic words, almost meaningless, perhaps
not even true, but at that moment it was all true, and they both believed
what they said implicitly.

"Katya," cried Mitya suddenly, "do you believe I murdered him? I know you
don't believe it now, but then ... when you gave evidence.... Surely,
surely you did not believe it!"

"I did not believe it even then. I've never believed it. I hated you, and
for a moment I persuaded myself. While I was giving evidence I persuaded
myself and believed it, but when I'd finished speaking I left off
believing it at once. Don't doubt that! I have forgotten that I came here
to punish myself," she said, with a new expression in her voice, quite
unlike the loving tones of a moment before.

"Woman, yours is a heavy burden," broke, as it were, involuntarily from
Mitya.

"Let me go," she whispered. "I'll come again. It's more than I can bear
now."

She was getting up from her place, but suddenly uttered a loud scream and
staggered back. Grushenka walked suddenly and noiselessly into the room.
No one had expected her. Katya moved swiftly to the door, but when she
reached Grushenka, she stopped suddenly, turned as white as chalk and
moaned softly, almost in a whisper:

"Forgive me!"

Grushenka stared at her and, pausing for an instant, in a vindictive,
venomous voice, answered:

"We are full of hatred, my girl, you and I! We are both full of hatred! As
though we could forgive one another! Save him, and I'll worship you all my
life."

"You won't forgive her!" cried Mitya, with frantic repr