jealous myself. Only what offends me is that he doesn’t love me at all. I tell you he is jealous now on purpose . Am I blind? Don’t I see? He began talking to me just now of that woman, of Katerina, saying she was this and that, how she had ordered a doctor from Moscow for him, to try and save him; how she had ordered the best counsel, the most learned one, too. So he loves her, if he’ll praise her to my face, more shame to him! He’s treated me badly himself, so he attacked me, to make out I am in fault first and to throw it all on me. ‘You were with your Pole before me, so I can’t be blamed for Katerina,’ that’s what it amounts to. He wants to throw the whole blame on me. He attacked me on purpose, on purpose, I tell you, but I’ll—”
Grushenka could not finish saying what she would do. She hid her eyes in her handkerchief and sobbed violently.
“He doesn’t love Katerina Ivanovna,” said Alyosha firmly.
“Well, whether he loves her or not, I’ll soon find out for myself,” said Grushenka, with a menacing note in her voice, taking the handkerchief from her eyes. Her face was distorted. Alyosha saw sorrowfully that from being mild and serene, it had become sullen and spiteful.
“Enough of this foolishness,” she said suddenly; “it’s not for that I sent for you. Alyosha, darling, tomorrow—what will happen tomorrow? That’s what worries me! And it’s only me it worries! I look at everyone and no one is thinking of it. No one cares about it. Are you thinking about it even? Tomorrow he’ll be tried, you know. Tell me, how will he be tried? You know it’s the valet, the valet killed him!