for another two hours. The sick man slept soundly, without stirring, breathing softly and evenly. Alyosha took a pillow and lay down on the sofa, without undressing.
As he fell asleep he prayed for Mitya and Ivan. He began to understand Ivan’s illness.
“The anguish of a proud determination. An earnest conscience!”
God, in Whom he disbelieved, and His truth were gaining mastery over his heart, which still refused to submit.
“Yes,” the thought floated through Alyosha’s head as it lay on the pillow, “yes, if Smerdyakov is dead, no one will believe Ivan’s evidence; but he will go and give it.”
Alyosha smiled softly. “God will conquer!” he thought.
“He will either rise up in the light of truth, or … he’ll perish in hate, revenging on himself and on everyone his having served the cause he does not believe in,” Alyosha added bitterly, and again he prayed for Ivan.