Whom could I marry better than you—and who would have me except you? I have been thinking it over. In the first place, you’ve known me from a child and you’ve a great many qualities I haven’t. You are more lighthearted than I am; above all, you are more innocent than I am. I have been brought into contact with many, many things already. … Ah, you don’t know, but I, too, am a Karamazov. What does it matter if you do laugh and make jokes, and at me, too? Go on laughing. I am so glad you do. You laugh like a little child, but you think like a martyr.”
“Like a martyr? How?”
“Yes, Lise, your question just now: whether we weren’t showing contempt for that poor man by dissecting his soul—that was the question of a sufferer. … You see, I don’t know how to express it, but anyone who thinks of such questions is capable of suffering. Sitting in your