“And why were you so surly with Alyosha just now? He is a dear; I’ve treated him badly over Father Zossima.”
“Don’t talk of Alyosha! How dare you, you flunkey!” Ivan laughed again.
“You scold me, but you laugh—that’s a good sign. But you are ever so much more polite than you were last time and I know why: that great resolution of yours—”
“Don’t speak of my resolution,” cried Ivan, savagely.
“I understand, I understand, c’est noble, c’est charmant , you are going to defend your brother and to sacrifice yourself … C’est chevaleresque. ”
“Hold your tongue, I’ll kick you!”
“I shan’t be altogether sorry, for then my object will be attained. If you kick me, you must believe in my reality, for people don’t kick ghosts. Joking apart, it doesn’t matter to me, scold if you like, though it’s better to be a trifle more polite even to me. ‘Fool, flunkey!’ what words!”
“Scolding you, I scold myself,” Ivan laughed again, “you are myself, myself, only with a different face. You just say what I am thinking … and are incapable of saying anything new!”
“If I am like you in my way of thinking, it’s all to my credit,” the gentleman declared, with delicacy and dignity.
“You choose out only my worst thoughts, and what’s more, the stupid ones. You are stupid and vulgar. You are awfully stupid. No, I can’t put up with you! What am I to do, what am I to do?” Ivan said through his clenched teeth.
“My dear friend, above all things I want to behave like a gentleman and to be recognized as such,” the visitor began in an excess of deprecating and simple-hearted pride, typical of a poor relation. “I am poor, but …