“Stop, Dmitri,” Alyosha interrupted again with great anxiety. “There’s one thing you haven’t made clear yet: you are still betrothed all the same, aren’t you? How can you break off the engagement if she, your betrothed, doesn’t want to?”
“Yes, formally and solemnly betrothed. It was all done on my arrival in Moscow, with great ceremony, with icons, all in fine style. The general’s wife blessed us, and—would you believe it?—congratulated Katya. ‘You’ve made a good choice,’ she said, ‘I see right through him.’ And—would you believe it?—she didn’t like Ivan, and hardly greeted him. I had a lot of talk with Katya in Moscow. I told her about myself—sincerely, honorably. She listened to everything.
There was sweet confusion, There were tender words.
Though there were proud words, too. She wrung out of me a mighty promise to reform. I gave my promise, and here—”
“What?”
“Why, I called to you and brought you out here today, this very day—remember it—to send you—this very day again—to Katerina Ivanovna, and—”
“What?”
“To tell her that I shall never come to see her again. Say, ‘He sends you his compliments.’ ”
“But is that possible?”