ame home crying
and groaning and now he is ill."

"And you know he attacks them first. He is bitter against them on your
account. They say he stabbed a boy called Krassotkin with a pen-knife not
long ago."

"I've heard about that too, it's dangerous. Krassotkin is an official
here, we may hear more about it."

"I would advise you," Alyosha went on warmly, "not to send him to school
at all for a time till he is calmer ... and his anger is passed."

"Anger!" the captain repeated, "that's just what it is. He is a little
creature, but it's a mighty anger. You don't know all, sir. Let me tell
you more. Since that incident all the boys have been teasing him about the
'wisp of tow.' Schoolboys are a merciless race, individually they are
angels, but together, especially in schools, they are often merciless.
Their teasing has stirred up a gallant spirit in Ilusha. An ordinary boy,
a weak son, would have submitted, have felt ashamed of his father, sir,
but he stood up for his father against them all. For his father and for
truth and justice. For what he suffered when he kissed your brother's hand
and cried to him 'Forgive father, forgive him,'--that only God knows--and I,
his father. For our children--not your children, but ours--the children of
the poor gentlemen looked down upon by every one--know what justice means,
sir, even at nine years old. How should the rich know? They don't explore
such depths once in their lives. But at that moment in the square when he
kissed his hand, at that moment my Ilusha had grasped all that justice
means. That truth entered into him and crushed him for ever, sir," the
captain said hotly again with a sort of frenzy, and he struck his right
fist against his left palm as though he wanted to show how "the truth"
crushed Ilusha. "That very day, sir, he fell ill with fever and was
delirious all night. All that day he hardly said a word to me, but I
noticed he kept watching me from the corner, though he turned to the
window and pretended to be learning his lessons. But I could see his mind
was not on his lessons. Next day I got drunk to forget my troubles, sinful
man as I am, and I don't remember much. Mamma began crying, too--I am very
fond of mamma--well, I spent my last penny drowning my troubles. Don't
despise me for that, sir, in Russia men who drink are the best. The best
men amongst us are the greatest drunkards. I lay down and I don't remember
about Ilusha, though all that day the boys had