I beg you most earnestly, dear Mihail Makarovitch, to restrain your feelings, or I shall be forced to resort to—


Ex‐Lieutenant Karamazov, it is my duty to inform you that you are charged with the murder of your father, Fyodor Pavlovitch Karamazov, perpetrated this night....


And the blood was simply flowing, dripping from him, dripping!


And when he came back. I told him the whole story, and then I began asking him, ‘Why have you got blood on your hands, Dmitri Fyodorovitch?’ and he answered that that was human blood, and that he had just killed some one. He confessed it all to me, and suddenly ran off like a madman. I sat down and began thinking, where’s he run off to now like a madman? He’ll go to Mokroe, I thought, and kill my mistress there. I ran out to beg him not to kill her. I was running to his lodgings, but I looked at Plotnikov’s shop, and saw him just setting off, and there was no blood on his hands then. Why have you got blood on your hands, Dmitri Fyodorovitch?


Ask at the top of the stairs. If the lady wants to receive you, she’ll receive you. If she won’t, she won’t.


Tell her in those words, in those words exactly,


That he had come on business of the greatest importance, and that Madame Hohlakov might have cause to regret it later, if she refused to see him now. I plunged headlong,


What do you want?


I have ventured to disturb you, madam, on a matter concerning our common acquaintance, Dmitri Fyodorovitch Karamazov,


How much longer am I to be worried by that awful man? How dare you, sir, how could you venture to disturb a lady who is a stranger to you, in her own house at such an hour!... And to force yourself upon her to talk of a man who came here, to this very drawing‐room, only three hours ago, to murder me, and went stamping out of the room, as no one would go out of a decent house. Let me tell you, sir, that I shall lodge a complaint against you, that I will not let it pass. Kindly leave me at once.... I am a mother.... I ... I—


Murder! then he tried to murder you, too?


Why, has he killed somebody else?


If you would kindly listen, madam, for half a moment, I’ll explain it all in a couple of words. At five o’clock this afternoon Dmitri Fyodorovitch borrowed ten roubles from me, and I know for a fact he had no money. Yet at nine o’clock, he came to see me with a bundle of hundred‐rouble notes in his hand, about two or three thousand roubles. His hands and face were all covered with blood, and he looked like a madman. When I asked him where he had got so much money, he answered that he had just received it from you, that you had given him a sum of three thousand to go to the gold‐mines....


Good God! He must have killed his old father! I have never given him money, never! Oh, run, run!... Don’t say another word! Save the old man ... run to his father ... run!


Excuse me, madam, then you did not give him money? You remember for a fact that you did not give him any money?


No, I didn’t, I didn’t! I refused to give it him, for he could not appreciate it. He ran out in a fury, stamping. He rushed at me, but I slipped away.... And let me tell you, as I wish to hide nothing from you now, that he positively spat at me. Can you fancy that! But why are we standing? Ah, sit down.


Excuse me, I....


Or better run, run, you must run and save the poor old man from an awful death!


But if he has killed him already?


Ah, good heavens, yes! Then what are we to do now? What do you think we must do now? Would you believe it, I foresaw all this! I have that special faculty, whatever I imagine comes to pass. And how often I’ve looked at that awful man and always thought, that man will end by murdering me. And now it’s happened ... that is, if he hasn’t murdered me, but only his own father, it’s only because the finger of God preserved me, and what’s more, he was ashamed to murder me because, in this very place, I put the holy ikon from the relics of the holy martyr, Saint Varvara, on his neck.... And to think how near I was to death at that minute, I went close up to him and he stretched out his neck to me!... Do you know, Pyotr Ilyitch (I think you said your name was Pyotr Ilyitch), I don’t believe in miracles, but that ikon and this unmistakable miracle with me now—that shakes me, and I’m ready to believe in anything you like. Have you heard about Father Zossima?... But I don’t know what I’m saying ... and only fancy, with the ikon on his neck he spat at me.... He only spat, it’s true, he didn’t murder me and ... he dashed away! But what shall we do, what must we do now? What do you think? Oh, he’s an excellent man, excellent! Mihail Makarovitch, I know him. Of course, he’s the person to go to. How practical you are, Pyotr Ilyitch! How well you’ve thought of everything! I should never have thought of it in your place!


Especially as I know the police captain very well, too,


And be sure, be sure, to come back and tell me what you see there, and what you find out ... what comes to light ... how they’ll try him ... and what he’s condemned to.... Tell me, we have no capital punishment, have we? But be sure to come, even if it’s at three o’clock at night, at four, at half‐past four.... Tell them to wake me, to wake me, to shake me, if I don’t get up.... But, good heavens, I shan’t sleep! But wait, hadn’t I better come with you?


N—no. But if you would write three lines with your own hand, stating that you did not give Dmitri Fyodorovitch money, it might, perhaps, be of use ... in case it’s needed....


To be sure! And you know I’m simply struck, amazed at your resourcefulness, your good sense in such affairs. Are you in the service here? I’m delighted to think that you’re in the service here! Here’s the note! Go, save him. It’s a noble deed on your part! How grateful I am to you! You can’t think how grateful I am to you for having come to me, first. How is it I haven’t met you before? I shall feel flattered at seeing you at my house in the future. How delightful it is that you are living here!... Such precision! Such practical ability!... They must appreciate you, they must understand you. If there’s anything I can do, believe me ... oh, I love young people! I’m in love with young people! The younger generation are the one prop of our suffering country. Her one hope.... Oh, go, go!...


Ah, it is awful, awful!


I have the heart of a soldier rather than of a civilian,


Marfa! Marfa!


Lord, preserve us from harm!


He has murdered ... his father murdered.... Why scream, silly ... run ... fetch some one....


Some one person screamed out and then was silent,


Is the master murdered?


for fear anything should happen afterwards.


You’ll be too late.


That’s clear, that’s clear! That’s just the way with mad fellows like that: ‘I shall kill myself to‐ morrow, so I’ll make merry till I die!’ Do you remember the fellow that murdered a merchant called Olsufyev, gentlemen? He stole fifteen hundred, went at once to have his hair curled, and then, without even hiding the money, carrying it almost in his hand in the same way, he went off to the girls.


Such violent and protracted epileptic fits, recurring continually for twenty‐four hours, are rarely to be met with, and are of interest to science,


I’m not guilty! I’m not guilty of that blood! I’m not guilty of my father’s blood.... I meant to kill him. But I’m not guilty. Not I.


It was my fault! Mine! My wickedness! He did it through me. I tortured him and drove him to it. I tortured that poor old man that’s dead, too, in my wickedness, and brought him to this! It’s my fault, mine first, mine most, my fault!


Yes, it’s your fault! You’re the chief criminal! You fury! You harlot! You’re the most to blame!


This is absolutely irregular, Mihail Makarovitch! You are positively hindering the inquiry.... You’re ruining the case....


Follow the regular course! Follow the regular course! otherwise it’s absolutely impossible!...


Judge us together! Punish us together. I will go with him now, if it’s to death!


Grusha, my life, my blood, my holy one! Don’t believe her, she’s not guilty of anything, of any blood, of anything!


That will refresh you, that will calm you. Be calm, don’t be frightened,


Drink some water,


I have drunk it, gentlemen, I have ... but ... come, gentlemen, crush me, punish me, decide my fate!


So you positively declare that you are not guilty of the death of your father, Fyodor Pavlovitch?


I am not guilty. I am guilty of the blood of another old man but not of my father’s. And I weep for it! I killed, I killed the old man and knocked him down.... But it’s hard to have to answer for that murder with another, a terrible murder of which I am not guilty.... It’s a terrible accusation, gentlemen, a knock‐down blow. But who has killed my father, who has killed him? Who can have killed him if I didn’t? It’s marvelous, extraordinary, impossible.


Yes, who can have killed him?


You need not worry yourself about the old servant, Grigory Vassilyevitch. He is alive, he has recovered, and in spite of the terrible blows inflicted, according to his own and your evidence, by you, there seems no doubt that he will live, so the doctor says, at least.


Alive? He’s alive? Lord, I thank Thee for the miracle Thou has wrought for me, a sinner and evildoer. That’s an answer to my prayer. I’ve been praying all night.


So from this Grigory we have received such important evidence concerning you, that—


One minute, gentlemen, for God’s sake, one minute; I will run to her—


Excuse me, at this moment it’s quite impossible,


Gentlemen, what a pity! I wanted to see her for one minute only; I wanted to tell her that it has been washed away, it has gone, that blood that was weighing on my heart all night, and that I am not a murderer now! Gentlemen, she is my betrothed! Oh, thank you, gentlemen! Oh, in one minute you have given me new life, new heart!... That old man used to carry me in his arms, gentlemen. He used to wash me in the tub when I was a baby three years old, abandoned by every one, he was like a father to me!...


And so you—


Allow me, gentlemen, allow me one minute more. Let me have a moment to think, let me breathe, gentlemen. All this is horribly upsetting, horribly. A man is not a drum, gentlemen!


Drink a little more water,


You’re a most skillful lawyer, I see, Nikolay Parfenovitch, but I can help you now. Oh, gentlemen, I feel like a new man, and don’t be offended at my addressing you so simply and directly. I’m rather drunk, too, I’ll tell you that frankly. I believe I’ve had the honor and pleasure of meeting you, Nikolay Parfenovitch, at my kinsman Miüsov’s. Gentlemen, gentlemen, I don’t pretend to be on equal terms with you. I understand, of course, in what character I am sitting before you. Oh, of course, there’s a horrible suspicion ... hanging over me ... if Grigory has given evidence.... A horrible suspicion! It’s awful, awful, I understand that! But to business, gentlemen, I am ready, and we will make an end of it in one moment; for, listen, listen, gentlemen! Since I know I’m innocent, we can put an end to it in a minute. Can’t we? Can’t we?


So, for the present, we will write that you absolutely deny the charge brought against you,


Write it down? You want to write that down? Well, write it; I consent, I give my full consent, gentlemen, only ... do you see?... Stay, stay, write this. Of disorderly conduct I am guilty, of violence on a poor old man I am guilty. And there is something else at the bottom of my heart, of which I am guilty, too—but that you need not write down that’s my personal life, gentlemen, that doesn’t concern you, the bottom of my heart, that’s to say.... But of the murder of my old father I’m not guilty. That’s a wild idea. It’s quite a wild idea!... I will prove you that and you’ll be convinced directly.... You will laugh, gentlemen. You’ll laugh yourselves at your suspicion!...


Be calm, Dmitri Fyodorovitch. Before we go on with our inquiry, I should like, if you will consent to answer, to hear you confirm the statement that you disliked your father, Fyodor Pavlovitch, that you were involved in continual disputes with him. Here at least, a quarter of an hour ago, you exclaimed that you wanted to kill him: ‘I didn’t kill him,’ you said, ‘but I wanted to kill him.’


Did I exclaim that? Ach, that may be so, gentlemen! Yes, unhappily, I did want to kill him ... many times I wanted to ... unhappily, unhappily!


You wanted to. Would you consent to explain what motives precisely led you to such a sentiment of hatred for your parent?


What is there to explain, gentlemen? I have never concealed my feelings. All the town knows about it—every one knows in the tavern. Only lately I declared them in Father Zossima’s cell.... And the very same day, in the evening I beat my father. I nearly killed him, and I swore I’d come again and kill him, before witnesses.... Oh, a thousand witnesses! I’ve been shouting it aloud for the last month, any one can tell you that!... The fact stares you in the face, it speaks for itself, it cries aloud, but feelings, gentlemen, feelings are another matter. You see, gentlemen— it seems to me that about feelings you’ve no right to question me. I know that you are bound by your office, I quite understand that, but that’s my affair, my private, intimate affair, yet ... since I haven’t concealed my feelings in the past ... in the tavern, for instance, I’ve talked to every one, so ... so I won’t make a secret of it now. You see, I understand, gentlemen, that there are terrible facts against me in this business. I told every one that I’d kill him, and now, all of a sudden, he’s been killed. So it must have been me! Ha ha! I can make allowances for you, gentlemen, I can quite make allowances. I’m struck all of a heap myself, for who can have murdered him, if not I? That’s what it comes to, isn’t it? If not I, who can it be, who? Gentlemen, I want to know, I insist on knowing! Where was he murdered? How was he murdered? How, and with what? Tell me,


We found him in his study, lying on his back on the floor, with his head battered in,


That’s horrible!


We will continue. So what was it that impelled you to this sentiment of hatred? You have asserted in public, I believe, that it was based upon jealousy?


Well, yes, jealousy. And not only jealousy.


Disputes about money?


Yes, about money, too.


There was a dispute about three thousand roubles, I think, which you claimed as part of your inheritance?


Three thousand! More, more, more than six thousand, more than ten, perhaps. I told every one so, shouted it at them. But I made up my mind to let it go at three thousand. I was desperately in need of that three thousand ... so the bundle of notes for three thousand that I knew he kept under his pillow, ready for Grushenka, I considered as simply stolen from me. Yes, gentlemen, I looked upon it as mine, as my own property....


We will return to that subject later. You will allow us to note that point and write it down; that you looked upon that money as your own property?


Write it down, by all means. I know that’s another fact that tells against me, but I’m not afraid of facts and I tell them against myself. Do you hear? Do you know, gentlemen, you take me for a different sort of man from what I am. You have to deal with a man of honor, a man of the highest honor; above all—don’t lose sight of it—a man who’s done a lot of nasty things, but has always been, and still is, honorable at bottom, in his inner being. I don’t know how to express it. That’s just what’s made me wretched all my life, that I yearned to be honorable, that I was, so to say, a martyr to a sense of honor, seeking for it with a lantern, with the lantern of Diogenes, and yet all my life I’ve been doing filthy things like all of us, gentlemen ... that is like me alone. That was a mistake, like me alone, me alone!... Gentlemen, my head aches ... You see, gentlemen, I couldn’t bear the look of him, there was something in him ignoble, impudent, trampling on everything sacred, something sneering and irreverent, loathsome, loathsome. But now that he’s dead, I feel differently.


How do you mean?


I don’t feel differently, but I wish I hadn’t hated him so.


You feel penitent?


No, not penitent, don’t write that. I’m not much good myself, I’m not very beautiful, so I had no right to consider him repulsive. That’s what I mean. Write that down, if you like.


What do you want with her? Why do you torment her? She’s done nothing, nothing!...


She’s been removed, she’s downstairs. Will you allow me to say one word to this unhappy man, gentlemen? In your presence, gentlemen, in your presence.


By all means, Mihail Makarovitch. In the present case we have nothing against it.


Listen, Dmitri Fyodorovitch, my dear fellow. I took your Agrafena Alexandrovna downstairs myself, and confided her to the care of the landlord’s daughters, and that old fellow Maximov is with her all the time. And I soothed her, do you hear? I soothed and calmed her. I impressed on her that you have to clear yourself, so she mustn’t hinder you, must not depress you, or you may lose your head and say the wrong thing in your evidence. In fact, I talked to her and she understood. She’s a sensible girl, my boy, a good‐hearted girl, she would have kissed my old hands, begging help for you. She sent me herself, to tell you not to worry about her. And I must go, my dear fellow, I must go and tell her that you are calm and comforted about her. And so you must be calm, do you understand? I was unfair to her; she is a Christian soul, gentlemen, yes, I tell you, she’s a gentle soul, and not to blame for anything. So what am I to tell her, Dmitri Fyodorovitch? Will you sit quiet or not?


Forgive me, gentlemen, oh, allow me, allow me! You’ve the heart of an angel, an angel, Mihail Makarovitch, I thank you for her. I will, I will be calm, cheerful, in fact. Tell her, in the kindness of your heart, that I am cheerful, quite cheerful, that I shall be laughing in a minute, knowing that she has a guardian angel like you. I shall have done with all this directly, and as soon as I’m free, I’ll be with her, she’ll see, let her wait. Gentlemen, now I’ll open my whole soul to you; I’ll pour out everything. We’ll finish this off directly, finish it off gayly. We shall laugh at it in the end, shan’t we? But, gentlemen, that woman is the queen of my heart. Oh, let me tell you that. That one thing I’ll tell you now.... I see I’m with honorable men. She is my light, she is my holy one, and if only you knew! Did you hear her cry, ‘I’ll go to death with you’? And what have I, a penniless beggar, done for her? Why such love for me? How can a clumsy, ugly brute like me, with my ugly face, deserve such love, that she is ready to go to exile with me? And how she fell down at your feet for my sake, just now!... and yet she’s proud and has done nothing! How can I help adoring her, how can I help crying out and rushing to her as I did just now? Gentlemen, forgive me! But now, now I am comforted. Now, gentlemen, I am at your disposal, entirely at your disposal. And if it were not for all these trivial details, we should understand one another in a minute. I’m at those details again. I’m at your disposal, gentlemen, but I declare that we must have mutual confidence, you in me and I in you, or there’ll be no end to it. I speak in your interests. To business, gentlemen, to business, and don’t rummage in my soul; don’t tease me with trifles, but only ask me about facts and what matters, and I will satisfy you at once. And damn the details!


You don’t know how you encourage us, Dmitri Fyodorovitch, by your readiness to answer. And you have made a very just remark about the mutual confidence, without which it is sometimes positively impossible to get on in cases of such importance, if the suspected party really hopes and desires to defend himself and is in a position to do so. We, on our side, will do everything in our power, and you can see for yourself how we are conducting the case. You approve, Ippolit Kirillovitch?


Oh, undoubtedly,


Gentlemen, only let me tell my own story and don’t interrupt me with trivial questions and I’ll tell you everything in a moment,


Excellent! Thank you. But before we proceed to listen to your communication, will you allow me to inquire as to another little fact of great interest to us? I mean the ten roubles you borrowed yesterday at about five o’clock on the security of your pistols, from your friend, Pyotr Ilyitch Perhotin.


I pledged them, gentlemen. I pledged them for ten roubles. What more? That’s all about it. As soon as I got back to town I pledged them.


You got back to town? Then you had been out of town?


Yes, I went a journey of forty versts into the country. Didn’t you know?


Well, how would it be if you began your story with a systematic description of all you did yesterday, from the morning onwards? Allow us, for instance, to inquire why you were absent from the town, and just when you left and when you came back—all those facts.


You should have asked me like that from the beginning, and, if you like, we won’t begin from yesterday, but from the morning of the day before; then you’ll understand how, why, and where I went. I went the day before yesterday, gentlemen, to a merchant of the town, called Samsonov, to borrow three thousand roubles from him on safe security. It was a pressing matter, gentlemen, it was a sudden necessity.


Allow me to interrupt you. Why were you in such pressing need for just that sum, three thousand?


Oh, gentlemen, you needn’t go into details, how, when and why, and why just so much money, and not so much, and all that rigmarole. Why, it’ll run to three volumes, and then you’ll want an epilogue! Gentlemen! don’t be vexed with me for my restiveness, I beg you again. Believe me once more, I feel the greatest respect for you and understand the true position of affairs. Don’t think I’m drunk. I’m quite sober now. And, besides, being drunk would be no hindrance. It’s with me, you know, like the saying: ‘When he is sober, he is a fool; when he is drunk, he is a wise man.’ Ha ha! But I see, gentlemen, it’s not the proper thing to make jokes to you, till we’ve had our explanation, I mean. And I’ve my own dignity to keep up, too. I quite understand the difference for the moment. I am, after all, in the position of a criminal, and so, far from being on equal terms with you. And it’s your business to watch me. I can’t expect you to pat me on the head for what I did to Grigory, for one can’t break old men’s heads with impunity. I suppose you’ll put me away for him for six months, or a year perhaps, in a house of correction. I don’t know what the punishment is—but it will be without loss of the rights of my rank, without loss of my rank, won’t it? So you see, gentlemen, I understand the distinction between us.... But you must see that you could puzzle God Himself with such questions. ‘How did you step? Where did you step? When did you step? And on what did you step?’ I shall get mixed up, if you go on like this, and you will put it all down against me. And what will that lead to? To nothing! And even if it’s nonsense I’m talking now, let me finish, and you, gentlemen, being men of honor and refinement, will forgive me! I’ll finish by asking you, gentlemen, to drop that conventional method of questioning. I mean, beginning from some miserable trifle, how I got up, what I had for breakfast, how I spat, and where I spat, and so distracting the attention of the criminal, suddenly stun him with an overwhelming question, ‘Whom did you murder? Whom did you rob?’ Ha ha! That’s your regulation method, that’s where all your cunning comes in. You can put peasants off their guard like that, but not me. I know the tricks. I’ve been in the service, too. Ha ha ha! You’re not angry, gentlemen? You forgive my impertinence? It’s only Mitya Karamazov, you know, so you can overlook it. It would be inexcusable in a sensible man; but you can forgive it in Mitya. Ha ha!


That’s how we have treated you from the beginning. We haven’t tried to put you out by asking how you got up in the morning and what you had for breakfast. We began, indeed, with questions of the greatest importance.


I understand. I saw it and appreciated it, and I appreciate still more your present kindness to me, an unprecedented kindness, worthy of your noble hearts. We three here are gentlemen, and let everything be on the footing of mutual confidence between educated, well‐bred people, who have the common bond of noble birth and honor. In any case, allow me to look upon you as my best friends at this moment of my life, at this moment when my honor is assailed. That’s no offense to you, gentlemen, is it?


On the contrary. You’ve expressed all that so well, Dmitri Fyodorovitch,


And enough of those trivial questions, gentlemen, all those tricky questions! Or there’s simply no knowing where we shall get to! Is there?


I will follow your sensible advice entirely. I don’t withdraw my question, however. It is now vitally important for us to know exactly why you needed that sum, I mean precisely three thousand.


Why I needed it?... Oh, for one thing and another.... Well, it was to pay a debt.


A debt to whom?


That I absolutely refuse to answer, gentlemen. Not because I couldn’t, or because I shouldn’t dare, or because it would be damaging, for it’s all a paltry matter and absolutely trifling, but—I won’t, because it’s a matter of principle: that’s my private life, and I won’t allow any intrusion into my private life. That’s my principle. Your question has no bearing on the case, and whatever has nothing to do with the case is my private affair. I wanted to pay a debt. I wanted to pay a debt of honor but to whom I won’t say.


Allow me to make a note of that,


By all means. Write down that I won’t say, that I won’t. Write that I should think it dishonorable to say. Ech! you can write it; you’ve nothing else to do with your time.


Allow me to caution you, sir, and to remind you once more, if you are unaware of it, that you have a perfect right not to answer the questions put to you now, and we on our side have no right to extort an answer from you, if you decline to give it for one reason or another. That is entirely a matter for your personal decision. But it is our duty, on the other hand, in such cases as the present, to explain and set before you the degree of injury you will be doing yourself by refusing to give this or that piece of evidence. After which I will beg you to continue.


Gentlemen, I’m not angry ... I ... Well, gentlemen, you see, that Samsonov to whom I went then ...


If I didn’t kill Fenya then, gentlemen, it was only because I hadn’t time,


Do you recognize this object?


Oh, yes. Of course I recognize it. Let me have a look at it.... Damn it, never mind!


You have forgotten to mention it,


Hang it all, I shouldn’t have concealed it from you. Do you suppose I could have managed without it? It simply escaped my memory.


Be so good as to tell us precisely how you came to arm yourself with it.


Certainly I will be so good, gentlemen.


But what object had you in view in arming yourself with such a weapon?


What object? No object. I just picked it up and ran off.


What for, if you had no object?


Bother the pestle! But still— Oh, to keep off dogs.... Oh, because it was dark.... In case anything turned up. But have you ever on previous occasions taken a weapon with you when you went out, since you’re afraid of the dark? Ugh! damn it all, gentlemen! There’s positively no talking to you! Write down at once ... at once ... ‘that I snatched up the pestle to go and kill my father ... Fyodor Pavlovitch ... by hitting him on the head with it!’ Well, now are you satisfied, gentlemen? Are your minds relieved?


We quite understand that you made that statement just now through exasperation with us and the questions we put to you, which you consider trivial, though they are, in fact, essential,


Well, upon my word, gentlemen! Yes, I took the pestle.... What does one pick things up for at such moments? I don’t know what for. I snatched it up and ran—that’s all. For to me, gentlemen, passons, or I declare I won’t tell you any more. You see, gentlemen, you see. I listen to you and am haunted by a dream.... It’s a dream I have sometimes, you know.... I often dream it—it’s always the same ... that some one is hunting me, some one I’m awfully afraid of ... that he’s hunting me in the dark, in the night ... tracking me, and I hide somewhere from him, behind a door or cupboard, hide in a degrading way, and the worst of it is, he always knows where I am, but he pretends not to know where I am on purpose, to prolong my agony, to enjoy my terror.... That’s just what you’re doing now. It’s just like that!


Is that the sort of thing you dream about?


Yes, it is. Don’t you want to write it down?


No; no need to write it down. But still you do have curious dreams.


It’s not a question of dreams now, gentlemen—this is realism, this is real life! I’m a wolf and you’re the hunters. Well, hunt him down!


You are wrong to make such comparisons ...


No, I’m not wrong, not at all! You may not trust a criminal or a man on trial tortured by your questions, but an honorable man, the honorable impulses of the heart (I say that boldly!)—no! That you must believe you have no right indeed ... but— Be silent, heart, Be patient, humble, hold thy peace. Well, shall I go on?


If you’ll be so kind,


They’re angry and offended. Well, bother them! signal


Well? You pulled out the weapon and ... and what happened then?


Then? Why, then I murdered him ... hit him on the head and cracked his skull.... I suppose that’s your story. That’s it!


Our story? Well—and yours?


My story, gentlemen? Well, it was like this. Whether it was some one’s tears, or my mother prayed to God, or a good angel kissed me at that instant, I don’t know. But the devil was conquered. I rushed from the window and ran to the fence. My father was alarmed and, for the first time, he saw me then, cried out, and sprang back from the window. I remember that very well. I ran across the garden to the fence ... and there Grigory caught me, when I was sitting on the fence. Why, you’re laughing at me at this moment, gentlemen!


What makes you think that?


You don’t believe one word—that’s why! I understand, of course, that I have come to the vital point. The old man’s lying there now with his skull broken, while I—after dramatically describing how I wanted to kill him, and how I snatched up the pestle—I suddenly run away from the window. A romance! Poetry! As though one could believe a fellow on his word. Ha ha! You are scoffers, gentlemen!


And did you notice, did you notice when you ran away from the window, whether the door into the garden was open?


No, it was not open.


It was not?


It was shut. And who could open it? Bah! the door. Wait a bit! Why, did you find the door open?


Yes, it was open.


Why, who could have opened it if you did not open it yourselves?


The door stood open, and your father’s murderer undoubtedly went in at that door, and, having accomplished the crime, went out again by the same door. That is perfectly clear. The murder was committed in the room and not through the window; that is absolutely certain from the examination that has been made, from the position of the body and everything. There can be no doubt of that circumstance.


But that’s utterly impossible! I ... I didn’t go in.... I tell you positively, definitely, the door was shut the whole time I was in the garden, and when I ran out of the garden. I only stood at the window and saw him through the window. That’s all, that’s all.... I remember to the last minute. And if I didn’t remember, it would be just the same. I know it, for no one knew the signals except Smerdyakov, and me, and the dead man. And he wouldn’t have opened the door to any one in the world without the signals.


Signals? What signals?


So you didn’t know! What if I won’t tell you? From whom could you find out? No one knew about the signals except my father, Smerdyakov, and me: that was all. Heaven knew, too, but it won’t tell you. But it’s an interesting fact. There’s no knowing what you might build on it. Ha ha! Take comfort, gentlemen, I’ll reveal it. You’ve some foolish idea in your hearts. You don’t know the man you have to deal with! You have to do with a prisoner who gives evidence against himself, to his own damage! Yes, for I’m a man of honor and you—are not.


So now you can build up your tower,


So no one knew of the signals but your dead father, you, and the valet Smerdyakov? And no one else?


Yes. The valet Smerdyakov, and Heaven. Write down about Heaven. That may be of use. Besides, you will need God yourselves.


But if Smerdyakov also knew of these signals and you absolutely deny all responsibility for the death of your father, was it not he, perhaps, who knocked the signal agreed upon, induced your father to open to him, and then ... committed the crime?


You’ve caught the fox again, you’ve got the beast by the tail. Ha ha! I see through you, Mr. Prosecutor. You thought, of course, that I should jump at that, catch at your prompting, and shout with all my might, ‘Aie! it’s Smerdyakov; he’s the murderer.’ Confess that’s what you thought. Confess, and I’ll go on. You’re mistaken. I’m not going to shout ‘It’s Smerdyakov,’


And you don’t even suspect him?


Why, do you suspect him?


He is suspected, too.


Joking apart. Listen. From the very beginning, almost from the moment when I ran out to you from behind the curtain, I’ve had the thought of Smerdyakov in my mind. I’ve been sitting here, shouting that I’m innocent and thinking all the time ‘Smerdyakov!’ I can’t get Smerdyakov out of my head. In fact, I, too, thought of Smerdyakov just now; but only for a second. Almost at once I thought, ‘No, it’s not Smerdyakov.’ It’s not his doing, gentlemen.


In that case is there anybody else you suspect?


I don’t know any one it could be, whether it’s the hand of Heaven or Satan, but ... not Smerdyakov,


But what makes you affirm so confidently and emphatically that it’s not he?


From my conviction—my impression. Because Smerdyakov is a man of the most abject character and a coward. He’s not a coward, he’s the epitome of all the cowardice in the world walking on two legs. He has the heart of a chicken. When he talked to me, he was always trembling for fear I should kill him, though I never raised my hand against him. He fell at my feet and blubbered; he has kissed these very boots, literally, beseeching me ‘not to frighten him.’ Do you hear? ‘Not to frighten him.’ What a thing to say! Why, I offered him money. He’s a puling chicken—sickly, epileptic, weak‐minded—a child of eight could thrash him. He has no character worth talking about. It’s not Smerdyakov, gentlemen. He doesn’t care for money; he wouldn’t take my presents. Besides, what motive had he for murdering the old man? Why, he’s very likely his son, you know—his natural son. Do you know that?


We have heard that legend. But you are your father’s son, too, you know; yet you yourself told every one you meant to murder him.


That’s a thrust! Oh, gentlemen, isn’t it too base of you to say that to my face? It’s base, because I told you that myself. I not only wanted to murder him, but I might have done it. And, what’s more, I went out of my way to tell you of my own accord that I nearly murdered him. But, you see, I didn’t murder him; you see, my guardian angel saved me—that’s what you’ve not taken into account. And that’s why it’s so base of you. For I didn’t kill him, I didn’t kill him! Do you hear, I did not kill him. And what has he told you, gentlemen—Smerdyakov, I mean? May I ask that question?


You may ask any question, any question relating to the facts of the case, and we are, I repeat, bound to answer every inquiry you make. We found the servant Smerdyakov, concerning whom you inquire, lying unconscious in his bed, in an epileptic fit of extreme severity, that had recurred, possibly, ten times. The doctor who was with us told us, after seeing him, that he may possibly not outlive the night.


Well, if that’s so, the devil must have killed him,


We will come back to this later. Now, wouldn’t you like to continue your statement?


Oh, I was sitting like this, astride, one leg on one side of the wall and one on the other.


And the pestle?


The pestle was in my hand. Not in your pocket? Do you remember that precisely? Was it a violent blow you gave him? It must have been a violent one. But why do you ask?


Would you mind sitting on the chair just as you sat on the wall then and showing us just how you moved your arm, and in what direction?


You’re making fun of me, aren’t you? This was how I struck him! That’s how I knocked him down! What more do you want?


Thank you. May I trouble you now to explain why you jumped down, with what object, and what you had in view?


Oh, hang it!... I jumped down to look at the man I’d hurt ... I don’t know what for!


Though you were so excited and were running away?


Yes, though I was excited and running away.


You wanted to help him?


Help!... Yes, perhaps I did want to help him.... I don’t remember.


You don’t remember? Then you didn’t quite know what you were doing?


Not at all. I remember everything—every detail. I jumped down to look at him, and wiped his face with my handkerchief.


We have seen your handkerchief. Did you hope to restore him to consciousness?


I don’t know whether I hoped it. I simply wanted to make sure whether he was alive or not.


Ah! You wanted to be sure? Well, what then?


I’m not a doctor. I couldn’t decide. I ran away thinking I’d killed him. And now he’s recovered.


Excellent. Thank you. That’s all I wanted. Kindly proceed.


You’ve come to grief, old man—there’s no help for it. Well, there you must lie.


How came you to run to the servant, Fedosya Markovna, with your hands so covered with blood, and, as it appears, your face, too?


Why, I didn’t notice the blood at all at the time,


That’s quite likely. It does happen sometimes.


I simply didn’t notice. You’re quite right there, prosecutor. Well, I made up my mind to kill myself. What had I left to live for? That question stared me in the face. Her first rightful lover had come back, the man who wronged her but who’d hurried back to offer his love, after five years, and atone for the wrong with marriage.... So I knew it was all over for me.... And behind me disgrace, and that blood—Grigory’s.... What had I to live for? So I went to redeem the pistols I had pledged, to load them and put a bullet in my brain to‐morrow. And a grand feast the night before? Yes, a grand feast the night before. Damn it all, gentlemen! Do make haste and finish it. I meant to shoot myself not far from here, beyond the village, and I’d planned to do it at five o’clock in the morning. And I had a note in my pocket already. I wrote it at Perhotin’s when I loaded my pistols. Here’s the letter. Read it! It’s not for you I tell it. What suspicion? Suspicion or not, I should have galloped here just the same, and shot myself at five o’clock, and you wouldn’t have been in time to do anything. If it hadn’t been for what’s happened to my father, you would have known nothing about it, and wouldn’t have come here. Oh, it’s the devil’s doing. It was the devil murdered father, it was through the devil that you found it out so soon. How did you manage to get here so quick? It’s marvelous, a dream!


Mr. Perhotin informed us that when you came to him, you held in your hands ... your blood‐stained hands ... your money ... a lot of money ... a bundle of hundred‐rouble notes, and that his servant‐boy saw it too.


That’s true, gentlemen. I remember it was so.


Now, there’s one little point presents itself. Can you inform us,


Where were you able to procure such a sum all at once, when by your own confession, at five o’clock the same day you—


I was in want of ten roubles and pledged my pistols with Perhotin, and then went to Madame Hohlakov to borrow three thousand which she wouldn’t give me, and so on, and all the rest of it. Yes, gentlemen, I was in want of it, and suddenly thousands turned up, eh? Do you know, gentlemen, you’re both afraid now ‘what if he won’t tell us where he got it?’ That’s just how it is. I’m not going to tell you, gentlemen. You’ve guessed right. You’ll never know,


You must understand, Mr. Karamazov, that it is of vital importance for us to know,


I understand; but still I won’t tell you. And so on, gentlemen, and so on. Enough! I’ve heard that rigmarole before. I can see for myself how important it is, and that this is the vital point, and still I won’t say.


What is it to us? It’s not our business, but yours. You are doing yourself harm,


You see, gentlemen, joking apart I had an inkling from the first that we should come to loggerheads at this point. But at first when I began to give my evidence, it was all still far away and misty; it was all floating, and I was so simple that I began with the supposition of mutual confidence existing between us. Now I can see for myself that such confidence is out of the question, for in any case we were bound to come to this cursed stumbling‐ block. And now we’ve come to it! It’s impossible and there’s an end of it! But I don’t blame you. You can’t believe it all simply on my word. I understand that, of course.


Couldn’t you, without abandoning your resolution to be silent about the chief point, could you not, at the same time, give us some slight hint as to the nature of the motives which are strong enough to induce you to refuse to answer, at a crisis so full of danger to you?


I’m much more good‐natured than you think, gentlemen. I’ll tell you the reason why and give you that hint, though you don’t deserve it. I won’t speak of that, gentlemen, because it would be a stain on my honor. The answer to the question where I got the money would expose me to far greater disgrace than the murder and robbing of my father, if I had murdered and robbed him. That’s why I can’t tell you. I can’t for fear of disgrace. What, gentlemen, are you going to write that down?


Yes, we’ll write it down,


You ought not to write that down about ‘disgrace.’ I only told you that in the goodness of my heart. I needn’t have told you. I made you a present of it, so to speak, and you pounce upon it at once. Oh, well, write—write what you like. I’m not afraid of you and I can still hold up my head before you.


And can’t you tell us the nature of that disgrace?


No, no, c’est fini, don’t trouble yourselves. It’s not worth while soiling one’s hands. I have soiled myself enough through you as it is. You’re not worth it—no one is ... Enough, gentlemen. I’m not going on.


Can you not, at least, tell us what sum you had in your hands when you went into Mr. Perhotin’s—how many roubles exactly?


I can’t tell you that.


You spoke to Mr. Perhotin, I believe, of having received three thousand from Madame Hohlakov.


Perhaps I did. Enough, gentlemen. I won’t say how much I had.


Will you be so good then as to tell us how you came here and what you have done since you arrived?


Oh! you might ask the people here about that. But I’ll tell you if you like.


We shall verify all that. We will come back to it during the examination of the witnesses, which will, of course, take place in your presence. And now allow me to request you to lay on the table everything in your possession, especially all the money you still have about you.


My money, gentlemen? Certainly. I understand that that is necessary. I’m surprised, indeed, that you haven’t inquired about it before. It’s true I couldn’t get away anywhere. I’m sitting here where I can be seen. But here’s my money—count it—take it. That’s all, I think.


And is that all?


You stated just now in your evidence that you spent three hundred roubles at Plotnikovs’. You gave Perhotin ten, your driver twenty, here you lost two hundred, then....


I suppose so,


How is it they all assert there was much more?


Let them assert it.


But you asserted it yourself.


Yes, I did, too.


We will compare all this with the evidence of other persons not yet examined. Don’t be anxious about your money. It will be properly taken care of and be at your disposal at the conclusion of ... what is beginning ... if it appears, or, so to speak, is proved that you have undisputed right to it. Well, and now....


of your clothes and everything else....


By all means, gentlemen. I’ll turn out all my pockets, if you like.


It will be necessary to take off your clothes, too.


What! Undress? Ugh! Damn it! Won’t you search me as I am! Can’t you?


It’s utterly impossible, Dmitri Fyodorovitch. You must take off your clothes.


As you like, only, please, not here, but behind the curtains. Who will search them?


Behind the curtains, of course.


Well, must I take off my shirt, too?


I ask you for the second time—need I take off my shirt or not?


Don’t trouble yourself. We will tell you what to do,


excuse me, what’s that, blood?


Yes,


That is, what blood? ... and why is the cuff turned in?


You must take off your shirt, too. That’s very important as material evidence. What, am I to stay naked?


Don’t disturb yourself. We will arrange something. And meanwhile take off your socks.


You’re not joking? Is that really necessary?


We are in no mood for joking,


Well, if I must—


Would you like to look anywhere else if you’re not ashamed to?


No, there’s no need to, at present.


Well, am I to stay naked like this?


Yes, that can’t be helped for the time.... Kindly sit down here for a while. You can wrap yourself in a quilt from the bed, and I ... I’ll see to all this.


Here are clothes for you. Mr. Kalganov has kindly provided these for this unusual emergency, as well as a clean shirt. Luckily he had them all in his trunk. You can keep your own socks and underclothes.


I won’t have other people’s clothes! give me my own!


It’s impossible!


Give me my own. Damn Kalganov and his clothes, too!


Confound his sorrow! Well, where now? Am I to go on sitting here? Well, what now? Are you going to flog me? That’s all that’s left for you. He looked too closely at my socks, and turned them inside out on purpose to show every one how dirty they were—the scoundrel!


Well, now we must proceed to the examination of witnesses,


Yes,


We’ve done what we could in your interest, Dmitri Fyodorovitch, but having received from you such an uncompromising refusal to explain to us the source from which you obtained the money found upon you, we are, at the present moment—


What is the stone in your ring?


Ring?


Yes, that one ... on your middle finger, with the little veins in it, what stone is that?


That’s a smoky topaz. Would you like to look at it? I’ll take it off ...


No, don’t take it off. Don’t take it off ... there’s no need.... Damn it!... Gentlemen, you’ve sullied my heart! Can you suppose that I would conceal it from you, if I had really killed my father, that I would shuffle, lie, and hide myself? No, that’s not like Dmitri Karamazov, that he couldn’t do, and if I were guilty, I swear I shouldn’t have waited for your coming, or for the sunrise as I meant at first, but should have killed myself before this, without waiting for the dawn! I know that about myself now. I couldn’t have learnt so much in twenty years as I’ve found out in this accursed night!... And should I have been like this on this night, and at this moment, sitting with you, could I have talked like this, could I have moved like this, could I have looked at you and at the world like this, if I had really been the murderer of my father, when the very thought of having accidentally killed Grigory gave me no peace all night—not from fear—oh, not simply from fear of your punishment! The disgrace of it! And you expect me to be open with such scoffers as you, who see nothing and believe in nothing, blind moles and scoffers, and to tell you another nasty thing I’ve done, another disgrace, even if that would save me from your accusation! No, better Siberia! The man who opened the door to my father and went in at that door, he killed him, he robbed him. Who was he? I’m racking my brains and can’t think who. But I can tell you it was not Dmitri Karamazov, and that’s all I can tell you, and that’s enough, enough, leave me alone.... Exile me, punish me, but don’t bother me any more. I’ll say no more. Call your witnesses!


Oh, about the open door of which you spoke just now, we may as well inform you, by the way, now, of a very interesting piece of evidence of the greatest importance both to you and to us, that has been given us by Grigory, the old man you wounded. On his recovery, he clearly and emphatically stated, in reply to our questions, that when, on coming out to the steps, and hearing a noise in the garden, he made up his mind to go into it through the little gate which stood open, before he noticed you running, as you have told us already, in the dark from the open window where you saw your father, he, Grigory, glanced to the left, and, while noticing the open window, observed at the same time, much nearer to him, the door, standing wide open—that door which you have stated to have been shut the whole time you were in the garden. I will not conceal from you that Grigory himself confidently affirms and bears witness that you must have run from that door, though, of course, he did not see you do so with his own eyes, since he only noticed you first some distance away in the garden, running towards the fence.


Nonsense! it’s a barefaced lie. He couldn’t have seen the door open because it was shut. He’s lying!


I consider it my duty to repeat that he is firm in his statement. He does not waver. He adheres to it. We’ve cross‐examined him several times.


Precisely. I have cross‐examined him several times,


It’s false, false! It’s either an attempt to slander me, or the hallucination of a madman. He’s simply raving, from loss of blood, from the wound. He must have fancied it when he came to.... He’s raving.


Yes, but he noticed the open door, not when he came to after his injuries, but before that, as soon as he went into the garden from the lodge.


But it’s false, it’s false! It can’t be so! He’s slandering me from spite.... He couldn’t have seen it ... I didn’t come from the door,


Confront him with it.


Do you recognize this object?


It ... it must be that envelope of my father’s, the envelope that contained the three thousand roubles ... and if there’s inscribed on it, allow me, ‘For my little chicken’ ... yes—three thousand! do you see, three thousand, do you see?


Of course, we see. But we didn’t find the money in it. It was empty, and lying on the floor by the bed, behind the screen.


Gentlemen, it’s Smerdyakov! It’s he who’s murdered him! He’s robbed him! No one else knew where the old man hid the envelope. It’s Smerdyakov, that’s clear, now!


But you, too, knew of the envelope and that it was under the pillow.


I never knew it. I’ve never seen it. This is the first time I’ve looked at it. I’d only heard of it from Smerdyakov.... He was the only one who knew where the old man kept it hidden, I didn’t know ...


But you told us yourself that the envelope was under your deceased father’s pillow. You especially stated that it was under the pillow, so you must have known it.


We’ve got it written down,


Nonsense! It’s absurd! I’d no idea it was under the pillow. And perhaps it wasn’t under the pillow at all.... It was just a chance guess that it was under the pillow. What does Smerdyakov say? Have you asked him where it was? What does Smerdyakov say? that’s the chief point.... And I went out of my way to tell lies against myself.... I told you without thinking that it was under the pillow, and now you— Oh, you know how one says the wrong thing, without meaning it. No one knew but Smerdyakov, only Smerdyakov, and no one else.... He didn’t even tell me where it was! But it’s his doing, his doing; there’s no doubt about it, he murdered him, that’s as clear as daylight now. You must understand that, and arrest him at once.... He must have killed him while I was running away and while Grigory was unconscious, that’s clear now.... He gave the signal and father opened to him ... for no one but he knew the signal, and without the signal father would never have opened the door....


But you’re again forgetting the circumstance, that there was no need to give the signal if the door already stood open when you were there, while you were in the garden....


The door, the door. Yes, the door!... It’s a nightmare! God is against me!


Come, you see, and you can judge for yourself, Dmitri Fyodorovitch. On the one hand we have the evidence of the open door from which you ran out, a fact which overwhelms you and us. On the other side your incomprehensible, persistent, and, so to speak, obdurate silence with regard to the source from which you obtained the money which was so suddenly seen in your hands, when only three hours earlier, on your own showing, you pledged your pistols for the sake of ten roubles! In view of all these facts, judge for yourself. What are we to believe, and what can we depend upon? And don’t accuse us of being ‘frigid, cynical, scoffing people,’ who are incapable of believing in the generous impulses of your heart.... Try to enter into our position ...


Very well! I will tell you my secret. I’ll tell you where I got the money!... I’ll reveal my shame, that I may not have to blame myself or you hereafter.


And believe me, Dmitri Fyodorovitch, that every sincere and complete confession on your part at this moment may, later on, have an immense influence in your favor, and may, indeed, moreover—


Gentlemen. I want to make a full confession: that money was my own.


How do you mean? when at five o’clock on the same day, from your own confession—


Damn five o’clock on the same day and my own confession! That’s nothing to do with it now! That money was my own, my own, that is, stolen by me ... not mine, I mean, but stolen by me, and it was fifteen hundred roubles, and I had it on me all the time, all the time ...


But where did you get it?


I took it off my neck, gentlemen, off this very neck ... it was here, round my neck, sewn up in a rag, and I’d had it round my neck a long time, it’s a month since I put it round my neck ... to my shame and disgrace!


And from whom did you ... appropriate it?


You mean, ‘steal it’? Speak out plainly now. Yes, I consider that I practically stole it, but, if you prefer, I ‘appropriated it.’ I consider I stole it. And last night I stole it finally.


Last night? But you said that it’s a month since you ... obtained it?...


Yes. But not from my father. Not from my father, don’t be uneasy. I didn’t steal it from my father, but from her. Let me tell you without interrupting. It’s hard to do, you know. You see, a month ago, I was sent for by Katerina Ivanovna, formerly my betrothed. Do you know her?


Yes, of course.


I know you know her. She’s a noble creature, noblest of the noble. But she has hated me ever so long, oh, ever so long ... and hated me with good reason, good reason!


Katerina Ivanovna!


Oh, don’t take her name in vain! I’m a scoundrel to bring her into it. Yes, I’ve seen that she hated me ... a long while.... From the very first, even that evening at my lodging ... but enough, enough. You’re unworthy even to know of that. No need of that at all.... I need only tell you that she sent for me a month ago, gave me three thousand roubles to send off to her sister and another relation in Moscow (as though she couldn’t have sent it off herself!) and I ... it was just at that fatal moment in my life when I ... well, in fact, when I’d just come to love another, her, she’s sitting down below now, Grushenka. I carried her off here to Mokroe then, and wasted here in two days half that damned three thousand, but the other half I kept on me. Well, I’ve kept that other half, that fifteen hundred, like a locket round my neck, but yesterday I undid it, and spent it. What’s left of it, eight hundred roubles, is in your hands now, Nikolay Parfenovitch. That’s the change out of the fifteen hundred I had yesterday.


Excuse me. How’s that? Why, when you were here a month ago you spent three thousand, not fifteen hundred, everybody knows that.


Who knows it? Who counted the money? Did I let any one count it?


Why, you told every one yourself that you’d spent exactly three thousand.


It’s true, I did. I told the whole town so, and the whole town said so. And here, at Mokroe, too, every one reckoned it was three thousand. Yet I didn’t spend three thousand, but fifteen hundred. And the other fifteen hundred I sewed into a little bag. That’s how it was, gentlemen. That’s where I got that money yesterday....


This is almost miraculous,


Allow me to inquire, have you informed any one whatever of this circumstance before, I mean that you had fifteen hundred left about you a month ago?


I told no one.


That’s strange. Do you mean absolutely no one?


Absolutely no one. No one and nobody.


What was your reason for this reticence? What was your motive for making such a secret of it? To be more precise: You have told us at last your secret, in your words, so ‘disgraceful,’ though in reality—that is, of course, comparatively speaking—this action, that is, the appropriation of three thousand roubles belonging to some one else, and, of course, only for a time is, in my view at least, only an act of the greatest recklessness and not so disgraceful, when one takes into consideration your character.... Even admitting that it was an action in the highest degree discreditable, still, discreditable is not ‘disgraceful.’... Many people have already guessed, during this last month, about the three thousand of Katerina Ivanovna’s, that you have spent, and I heard the legend myself, apart from your confession.... Mihail Makarovitch, for instance, had heard it, too, so that indeed, it was scarcely a legend, but the gossip of the whole town. There are indications, too, if I am not mistaken, that you confessed this yourself to some one, I mean that the money was Katerina Ivanovna’s, and so, it’s extremely surprising to me that hitherto, that is, up to the present moment, you have made such an extraordinary secret of the fifteen hundred you say you put by, apparently connecting a feeling of positive horror with that secret.... It’s not easy to believe that it could cost you such distress to confess such a secret.... You cried out, just now, that Siberia would be better than confessing it ...


It’s not the fifteen hundred that’s the disgrace, but that I put it apart from the rest of the three thousand,


Why? What is there disgraceful, to your thinking, in your having set aside half of the three thousand you had discreditably, if you prefer, ‘disgracefully,’ appropriated? Your taking the three thousand is more important than what you did with it. And by the way, why did you do that—why did you set apart that half, for what purpose, for what object did you do it? Can you explain that to us?


Oh, gentlemen, the purpose is the whole point! I put it aside because I was vile, that is, because I was calculating, and to be calculating in such a case is vile ... and that vileness has been going on a whole month.


It’s incomprehensible.


I wonder at you. But I’ll make it clearer. Perhaps it really is incomprehensible. You see, attend to what I say. I appropriate three thousand entrusted to my honor, I spend it on a spree, say I spend it all, and next morning I go to her and say, ‘Katya, I’ve done wrong, I’ve squandered your three thousand,’ well, is that right? No, it’s not right—it’s dishonest and cowardly, I’m a beast, with no more self‐control than a beast, that’s so, isn’t it? But still I’m not a thief? Not a downright thief, you’ll admit! I squandered it, but I didn’t steal it. Now a second, rather more favorable alternative: follow me carefully, or I may get confused again—my head’s going round—and so, for the second alternative: I spend here only fifteen hundred out of the three thousand, that is, only half. Next day I go and take that half to her: ‘Katya, take this fifteen hundred from me, I’m a low beast, and an untrustworthy scoundrel, for I’ve wasted half the money, and I shall waste this, too, so keep me from temptation!’ Well, what of that alternative? I should be a beast and a scoundrel, and whatever you like; but not a thief, not altogether a thief, or I should not have brought back what was left, but have kept that, too. She would see at once that since I brought back half, I should pay back what I’d spent, that I should never give up trying to, that I should work to get it and pay it back. So in that case I should be a scoundrel, but not a thief, you may say what you like, not a thief!


I admit that there is a certain distinction. But it’s strange that you see such a vital difference.


Yes, I see a vital difference! Every man may be a scoundrel, and perhaps every man is a scoundrel, but not every one can be a thief, it takes an arch‐scoundrel to be that. Oh, of course, I don’t know how to make these fine distinctions ... but a thief is lower than a scoundrel, that’s my conviction. Listen, I carry the money about me a whole month, I may make up my mind to give it back to‐morrow, and I’m a scoundrel no longer, but I cannot make up my mind, you see, though I’m making up my mind every day, and every day spurring myself on to do it, and yet for a whole month I can’t bring myself to it, you see. Is that right to your thinking, is that right?


Certainly, that’s not right, that I can quite understand, and that I don’t dispute,


And let us give up all discussion of these subtleties and distinctions, and, if you will be so kind, get back to the point. And the point is, that you have still not told us, altogether we’ve asked you, why, in the first place, you halved the money, squandering one half and hiding the other? For what purpose exactly did you hide it, what did you mean to do with that fifteen hundred? I insist upon that question, Dmitri Fyodorovitch.


Yes, of course!


forgive me, I’m worrying you, and am not explaining the chief point, or you’d understand in a minute, for it’s just the motive of it that’s the disgrace! You see, it was all to do with the old man, my dead father. He was always pestering Agrafena Alexandrovna, and I was jealous; I thought then that she was hesitating between me and him. So I kept thinking every day, suppose she were to make up her mind all of a sudden, suppose she were to leave off tormenting me, and were suddenly to say to me, ‘I love you, not him; take me to the other end of the world.’ And I’d only forty copecks; how could I take her away, what could I do? Why, I’d be lost. You see, I didn’t know her then, I didn’t understand her, I thought she wanted money, and that she wouldn’t forgive my poverty. And so I fiendishly counted out the half of that three thousand, sewed it up, calculating on it, sewed it up before I was drunk, and after I had sewn it up, I went off to get drunk on the rest. Yes, that was base. Do you understand now?


I should have called it sensible and moral on your part not to have squandered it all,


for after all what does it amount to?


Why, that I stole it, that’s what it amounts to! Oh, God, you horrify me by not understanding! Every day that I had that fifteen hundred sewn up round my neck, every day and every hour I said to myself, ‘You’re a thief! you’re a thief!’ Yes, that’s why I’ve been so savage all this month, that’s why I fought in the tavern, that’s why I attacked my father, it was because I felt I was a thief. I couldn’t make up my mind, I didn’t dare even to tell Alyosha, my brother, about that fifteen hundred: I felt I was such a scoundrel and such a pickpocket. But, do you know, while I carried it I said to myself at the same time every hour: ‘No, Dmitri Fyodorovitch, you may yet not be a thief.’ Why? Because I might go next day and pay back that fifteen hundred to Katya. And only yesterday I made up my mind to tear my amulet off my neck, on my way from Fenya’s to Perhotin. I hadn’t been able till that moment to bring myself to it. And it was only when I tore it off that I became a downright thief, a thief and a dishonest man for the rest of my life. Why? Because, with that I destroyed, too, my dream of going to Katya and saying, ‘I’m a scoundrel, but not a thief!’ Do you understand now? Do you understand?


What was it made you decide to do it yesterday?


Why? It’s absurd to ask. Because I had condemned myself to die at five o’clock this morning, here, at dawn. I thought it made no difference whether I died a thief or a man of honor. But I see it’s not so, it turns out that it does make a difference. Believe me, gentlemen, what has tortured me most during this night has not been the thought that I’d killed the old servant, and that I was in danger of Siberia just when my love was being rewarded, and Heaven was open to me again. Oh, that did torture me, but not in the same way: not so much as the damned consciousness that I had torn that damned money off my breast at last and spent it, and had become a downright thief! Oh, gentlemen, I tell you again, with a bleeding heart, I have learnt a great deal this night. I have learnt that it’s not only impossible to live a scoundrel, but impossible to die a scoundrel.... No, gentlemen, one must die honest....


I am beginning to understand you, Dmitri Fyodorovitch,


But all this, if you’ll excuse my saying so, is a matter of nerves, in my opinion ... your overwrought nerves, that’s what it is. And why, for instance, should you not have saved yourself such misery for almost a month, by going and returning that fifteen hundred to the lady who had entrusted it to you? And why could you not have explained things to her, and in view of your position, which you describe as being so awful, why could you not have had recourse to the plan which would so naturally have occurred to one’s mind, that is, after honorably confessing your errors to her, why could you not have asked her to lend you the sum needed for your expenses, which, with her generous heart, she would certainly not have refused you in your distress, especially if it had been with some guarantee, or even on the security you offered to the merchant Samsonov, and to Madame Hohlakov? I suppose you still regard that security as of value?


Surely you don’t think me such an out and out scoundrel as that? You can’t be speaking in earnest?


I assure you I’m in earnest.... Why do you imagine I’m not serious?


Oh, how base that would have been! Gentlemen, do you know, you are torturing me! Let me tell you everything, so be it. I’ll confess all my infernal wickedness, but to put you to shame, and you’ll be surprised yourselves at the depth of ignominy to which a medley of human passions can sink. You must know that I already had that plan myself, that plan you spoke of, just now, prosecutor! Yes, gentlemen, I, too, have had that thought in my mind all this current month, so that I was on the point of deciding to go to Katya—I was mean enough for that. But to go to her, to tell her of my treachery, and for that very treachery, to carry it out, for the expenses of that treachery, to beg for money from her, Katya (to beg, do you hear, to beg), and go straight from her to run away with the other, the rival, who hated and insulted her—to think of it! You must be mad, prosecutor!


Mad I am not, but I did speak in haste, without thinking ... of that feminine jealousy ... if there could be jealousy in this case, as you assert ... yes, perhaps there is something of the kind,


But that would have been so infamous!


That would have been filthy beyond everything! Yes, do you know that she might have given me that money, yes, and she would have given it, too; she’d have been certain to give it, to be revenged on me, she’d have given it to satisfy her vengeance, to show her contempt for me, for hers is an infernal nature, too, and she’s a woman of great wrath. I’d have taken the money, too, oh, I should have taken it; I should have taken it, and then, for the rest of my life ... oh, God! Forgive me, gentlemen, I’m making such an outcry because I’ve had that thought in my mind so lately, only the day before yesterday, that night when I was having all that bother with Lyagavy, and afterwards yesterday, all day yesterday, I remember, till that happened ...


Till what happened?


I have made you an awful confession,


You must appreciate it, and what’s more, you must respect it, for if not, if that leaves your souls untouched, then you’ve simply no respect for me, gentlemen, I tell you that, and I shall die of shame at having confessed it to men like you! Oh, I shall shoot myself! Yes, I see, I see already that you don’t believe me. What, you want to write that down, too?


Yes, what you said just now,


that is, that up to the last hour you were still contemplating going to Katerina Ivanovna to beg that sum from her.... I assure you, that’s a very important piece of evidence for us, Dmitri Fyodorovitch, I mean for the whole case ... and particularly for you, particularly important for you.


Have mercy, gentlemen!


Don’t write that, anyway; have some shame. Here I’ve torn my heart asunder before you, and you seize the opportunity and are fingering the wounds in both halves.... Oh, my God!


Don’t worry yourself so, Dmitri Fyodorovitch,


everything that is written down will be read over to you afterwards, and what you don’t agree to we’ll alter as you like. But now I’ll ask you one little question for the second time. Has no one, absolutely no one, heard from you of that money you sewed up? That, I must tell you, is almost impossible to believe.


No one, no one, I told you so before, or you’ve not understood anything! Let me alone!


Very well, this matter is bound to be explained, and there’s plenty of time for it, but meantime, consider; we have perhaps a dozen witnesses that you yourself spread it abroad, and even shouted almost everywhere about the three thousand you’d spent here; three thousand, not fifteen hundred. And now, too, when you got hold of the money you had yesterday, you gave many people to understand that you had brought three thousand with you.


You’ve got not dozens, but hundreds of witnesses, two hundred witnesses, two hundred have heard it, thousands have heard it!


Well, you see, all bear witness to it. And the word all means something.


It means nothing. I talked rot, and every one began repeating it.


But what need had you to ‘talk rot,’ as you call it?


The devil knows. From bravado perhaps ... at having wasted so much money.... To try and forget that money I had sewn up, perhaps ... yes, that was why ... damn it ... how often will you ask me that question? Well, I told a fib, and that was the end of it, once I’d said it, I didn’t care to correct it. What does a man tell lies for sometimes?


That’s very difficult to decide, Dmitri Fyodorovitch, what makes a man tell lies,


Tell me, though, was that ‘amulet,’ as you call it, on your neck, a big thing?


No, not big.


How big, for instance?


If you fold a hundred‐rouble note in half, that would be the size.


You’d better show us the remains of it. You must have them somewhere.


Damnation, what nonsense! I don’t know where they are.


But excuse me: where and when did you take it off your neck? According to your own evidence you didn’t go home.


When I was going from Fenya’s to Perhotin’s, on the way I tore it off my neck and took out the money.


In the dark?


What should I want a light for? I did it with my fingers in one minute.


Without scissors, in the street?


In the market‐place I think it was. Why scissors? It was an old rag. It was torn in a minute.


Where did you put it afterwards?


I dropped it there.


Where was it, exactly?


In the market‐place, in the market‐place! The devil knows whereabouts. What do you want to know for?


That’s extremely important, Dmitri Fyodorovitch. It would be material evidence in your favor. How is it you don’t understand that? Who helped you to sew it up a month ago?


No one helped me. I did it myself.


Can you sew?


A soldier has to know how to sew. No knowledge was needed to do that.


Where did you get the material, that is, the rag in which you sewed the money?


Are you laughing at me?


Not at all. And we are in no mood for laughing, Dmitri Fyodorovitch.


I don’t know where I got the rag from—somewhere, I suppose.


I should have thought you couldn’t have forgotten it?


Upon my word, I don’t remember. I might have torn a bit off my linen.


That’s very interesting. We might find in your lodgings to‐morrow the shirt or whatever it is from which you tore the rag. What sort of rag was it, cloth or linen?


Goodness only knows what it was. Wait a bit.... I believe I didn’t tear it off anything. It was a bit of calico.... I believe I sewed it up in a cap of my landlady’s.


In your landlady’s cap?


Yes. I took it from her.


How did you get it?


You see, I remember once taking a cap for a rag, perhaps to wipe my pen on. I took it without asking, because it was a worthless rag. I tore it up, and I took the notes and sewed them up in it. I believe it was in that very rag I sewed them. An old piece of calico, washed a thousand times.


And you remember that for certain now?


I don’t know whether for certain. I think it was in the cap. But, hang it, what does it matter?


In that case your landlady will remember that the thing was lost?


No, she won’t, she didn’t miss it. It was an old rag, I tell you, an old rag not worth a farthing.


And where did you get the needle and thread?


I’ll stop now. I won’t say any more. Enough of it!


It’s strange that you should have so completely forgotten where you threw the pieces in the market‐place.


Give orders for the market‐place to be swept to‐morrow, and perhaps you’ll find it,


Enough, gentlemen, enough!


I see you don’t believe me! Not for a moment! It’s my fault, not yours. I ought not to have been so ready. Why, why did I degrade myself by confessing my secret to you? It’s a joke to you. I see that from your eyes. You led me on to it, prosecutor? Sing a hymn of triumph if you can.... Damn you, you torturers!


May I look out of the window?


Oh, as much as you like,


Gentlemen,


I see that I am lost! But she? Tell me about her, I beseech you. Surely she need not be ruined with me? She’s innocent, you know, she was out of her mind when she cried last night ‘It’s all my fault!’ She’s done nothing, nothing! I’ve been grieving over her all night as I sat with you.... Can’t you, won’t you tell me what you are going to do with her now?


You can set your mind quite at rest on that score, Dmitri Fyodorovitch,


We have, so far, no grounds for interfering with the lady in whom you are so interested. I trust that it may be the same in the later development of the case.... On the contrary, we’ll do everything that lies in our power in that matter. Set your mind completely at rest.


Gentlemen, I thank you. I knew that you were honest, straight‐forward people in spite of everything. You’ve taken a load off my heart.... Well, what are we to do now? I’m ready.


Well, we ought to make haste. We must pass to examining the witnesses without delay. That must be done in your presence and therefore—


Shouldn’t we have some tea first?


A little more and I shall begin raving,


What a lot of money he flung away on the gypsy girls alone! He wasted a thousand, I daresay, on them alone.


I don’t know I don’t believe I gave them five hundred. It’s a pity I didn’t count the money at the time, but I was drunk.... Oh, say what you like. It makes no difference now.


More than a thousand went on them, Dmitri Fyodorovitch. You flung it about at random and they picked it up. They were a rascally, thievish lot, horse‐stealers, they’ve been driven away from here, or maybe they’d bear witness themselves how much they got from you. I saw the sum in your hands, myself—count it I didn’t, you didn’t let me, that’s true enough—but by the look of it I should say it was far more than fifteen hundred ... fifteen hundred, indeed! We’ve seen money too. We can judge of amounts....


Come now, is that so, Trifon Borissovitch? Surely I didn’t declare so positively that I’d brought three thousand?


You did say so, Dmitri Fyodorovitch. You said it before Andrey. Andrey himself is still here. Send for him. And in the hall, when you were treating the chorus, you shouted straight out that you would leave your sixth thousand here—that is with what you spent before, we must understand. Stepan and Semyon heard it, and Pyotr Fomitch Kalganov, too, was standing beside you at the time. Maybe he’d remember it....


Where,’ says he, ‘am I, Dmitri Fyodorovitch, going, to heaven or to hell, and shall I be forgiven in the next world or not?


he knew nothing about it and didn’t want to. didn’t know He affirmed that the Poles had cheated at cards. He spoke of Agrafena Alexandrovna with reserve and respect, as though she had been a lady of the best society, and did not once allow himself to call her Grushenka.


He’s a scoundrel! A scoundrel! You can put that down. And put down, too, that, in spite of the protocol I still declare that he’s a scoundrel!


I had not said that I would be sure to pay him the remainder next day in the town.


And you imagine he would have accepted such a deed as a substitute for two thousand three hundred roubles in cash?


He certainly would have accepted it. Why, look here, he might have grabbed not two thousand, but four or six, for it. He would have put his lawyers, Poles and Jews, on to the job, and might have got, not three thousand, but the whole property out of the old man.


ten roubles in my poverty, there was twenty thousand.


Have you ever seen so much as twenty thousand before, then?


To be sure I have, not twenty, but seven, when my wife mortgaged my little property. She’d only let me look at it from a distance, boasting of it to me. It was a very thick bundle, all rainbow‐colored notes. And Dmitri Fyodorovitch’s were all rainbow‐colored....


He was an acquaintance. He came to see me as an acquaintance during the last month. at times in my nasty spite. I had no thoughts for either of them all this last month. I was expecting another man who had wronged me. But I think, that there’s no need for you to inquire about that, nor for me to answer you, for that’s my own affair.


Did he tell you that alone, or before some one else, or did you only hear him speak of it to others in your presence? Did he say it to you alone once, or several times? And did you never, once, hear that the money spent a month ago was not three thousand, but less, and that Dmitri Fyodorovitch had saved half that sum for his own use?


No, I never heard that. He was always expecting to get some from his father,


Did he never say before you ... casually, or in a moment of irritation, that he intended to make an attempt on his father’s life?


Ach, he did say so,


Once or several times?


He mentioned it several times, always in anger.


And did you believe he would do it?


No, I never believed it. I had faith in his noble heart.


Gentlemen, allow me, allow me to say one word to Agrafena Alexandrovna, in your presence.


You can speak,


Agrafena Alexandrovna! have faith in God and in me. I am not guilty of my father’s murder!


Thanks be to Thee, O Lord. As he has spoken now, believe it! I know him. He’ll say anything as a joke or from obstinacy, but he’ll never deceive you against his conscience. He’s telling the whole truth, you may believe it.


Thanks, Agrafena Alexandrovna, you’ve given me fresh courage,


I do not know what sum it was, but had heard him tell several people that he had three thousand with him. stolen he meant the money spent a month ago, and that that was how she understood him. I thank you sincerely. I’m going with this old gentleman, I am driving him back to town with me, and meanwhile, if you’ll allow me, I’ll wait below to hear what you decide about Dmitri Fyodorovitch.


Why are they crying? Why are they crying?


It’s the babe, the babe weeping.


But why is it weeping? why are its little arms bare? Why don’t they wrap it up?


The babe’s cold, its little clothes are frozen and don’t warm it.


But why is it? Why?


Why, they’re poor people, burnt out. They’ve no bread. They’re begging because they’ve been burnt out.


No, no. Tell me why it is those poor mothers stand there? Why are people poor? Why is the babe poor? Why is the steppe barren? Why don’t they hug each other and kiss? Why don’t they sing songs of joy? Why are they so dark from black misery? Why don’t they feed the babe?


And I’m coming with you. I won’t leave you now for the rest of my life, I’m coming with you,


What! Where? Who put that pillow under my head? Who was so kind? I’ve had a good dream, gentlemen,


Well, gentlemen, I don’t blame you. I’m ready.... I understand that there’s nothing else for you to do. Stay. Gentlemen, we’re all cruel, we’re all monsters, we all make men weep, and mothers, and babes at the breast, but of all, let it be settled here, now, of all I am the lowest reptile! I’ve sworn to amend, and every day I’ve done the same filthy things. I understand now that such men as I need a blow, a blow of destiny to catch them as with a noose, and bind them by a force from without. Never, never should I have risen of myself! But the thunderbolt has fallen. I accept the torture of accusation, and my public shame, I want to suffer and by suffering I shall be purified. Perhaps I shall be purified, gentlemen? But listen, for the last time, I am not guilty of my father’s blood. I accept my punishment, not because I killed him, but because I meant to kill him, and perhaps I really might have killed him. Still I mean to fight it out with you. I warn you of that. I’ll fight it out with you to the end, and then God will decide. Good‐by, gentlemen, don’t be vexed with me for having shouted at you during the examination. Oh, I was still such a fool then.... In another minute I shall be a prisoner, but now, for the last time, as a free man, Dmitri Karamazov offers you his hand. Saying good‐by to you, I say it to all men.


The preliminary inquiry is not yet over. We will continue it in the town, and I, for my part, of course, am ready to wish you all success ... in your defense.... As a matter of fact, Dmitri Fyodorovitch, I’ve always been disposed to regard you as, so to speak, more unfortunate than guilty. All of us here, if I may make bold to speak for all, we are all ready to recognize that you are, at bottom, a young man of honor, but, alas, one who has been carried away by certain passions to a somewhat excessive degree....


Gentlemen, you are good, you are humane, may I see her to say ‘good‐by’ for the last time?


Certainly, but considering ... in fact, now it’s impossible except in the presence of—


Oh, well, if it must be so, it must!


I have told you I am yours, and I will be yours. I will follow you for ever, wherever they may send you. Farewell; you are guiltless, though you’ve been your own undoing.


Forgive me, Grusha, for my love, for ruining you, too, with my love.


Forgive me at parting, good people!


Forgive us too!


Good‐by to you, too, Trifon Borissovitch!


You see what our peasants are, Mavriky Mavrikyevitch. They’ve no shame! Akim gave you twenty‐five copecks the day before yesterday. You’ve drunk it all and now you cry out. I’m simply surprised at your good‐nature, with our low peasants, Mavriky Mavrikyevitch, that’s all I can say.


But what do we want a second cart for? Let’s start with the one, Mavriky Mavrikyevitch. I won’t be unruly, I won’t run away from you, old fellow. What do we want an escort for?


I’ll trouble you, sir, to learn how to speak to me if you’ve never been taught. I’m not ‘old fellow’ to you, and you can keep your advice for another time!


Good‐by, Trifon Borissovitch!


Good‐by, Dmitri Fyodorovitch, good‐by!


Good‐by, dear fellow! I shan’t forget your generosity,


What are these people? What can men be after this? Is it worth it? Is it worth it?


Run, run away from the rails,


Who founded Troy?


I shall never, never believe, that the old women find babies among the cabbages in the kitchen‐garden. It’s winter now and there are no cabbages, and so the old woman couldn’t have taken Katerina a daughter. Or perhaps they do bring babies from somewhere, but only to those who are married.


Nastya, how silly you are! How can Katerina have a baby when she isn’t married?


You know nothing about it. Perhaps she has a husband, only he is in prison, so now she’s got a baby.


But is her husband in prison?


Or, I tell you what. She hasn’t a husband, you are right there, but she wants to be married, and so she’s been thinking of getting married, and thinking and thinking of it till now she’s got it, that is, not a husband but a baby.


Well, perhaps so. But you didn’t say so before. So how could I tell?


Come, kiddies. You’re terrible people, I see.


And Perezvon with you!


I am in a difficulty, kids, and you must help me. Agafya must have broken her leg, since she has not turned up till now, that’s certain. I must go out. Will you let me go? You won’t be naughty while I am gone? You won’t climb on the cupboard and break your legs? You won’t be frightened alone and cry? And I could show you something as a reward, a little copper cannon which can be fired with real gunpowder.


Show us the cannon,


Ah, you are bound to ask that! Look, it’s on wheels. And it can be fired off, too. It can be loaded with shot and fired off.


And it could kill any one?


It can kill any one; you’ve only got to aim at anybody,


And have you got any powder?


Yes.


Show us the powder, too,


One has to be careful there’s no fire about, or it would blow up and kill us all,


And does the shot burn?


No, it doesn’t.


Give me a little shot,


I’ll give you a little shot; here, take it, but don’t show it to your mother till I come back, or she’ll be sure to think it’s gunpowder, and will die of fright and give you a thrashing.


Mother never does whip us,


I know, I only said it to finish the sentence. And don’t you ever deceive your mother except just this once, until I come back. And so, kiddies, can I go out? You won’t be frightened and cry when I’m gone?


We sha—all cry,


We shall cry, we shall be sure to cry,


Oh, children, children, how fraught with peril are your years! There’s no help for it, chickens, I shall have to stay with you I don’t know how long. And time is passing, time is passing, oogh!


Tell Perezvon to pretend to be dead!


There’s no help for it, we must have recourse to Perezvon. Ici, Perezvon.


Only think, a dog!


Why are you late, female?


Female, indeed! Go on with you, you brat.


Brat?


Yes, a brat. What is it to you if I’m late; if I’m late, you may be sure I have good reason,


Listen, you frivolous young woman, can you swear by all you hold sacred in the world and something else besides, that you will watch vigilantly over the kids in my absence? I am going out.


And what am I going to swear for? I shall look after them without that.


No, you must swear on your eternal salvation. Else I shan’t go.


Well, don’t then. What does it matter to me? It’s cold out; stay at home.


Kids, this woman will stay with you till I come back or till your mother comes, for she ought to have been back long ago. She will give you some lunch, too. You’ll give them something, Agafya, won’t you?


That I can do.


Good‐by, chickens, I go with my heart at rest. And you, granny. I hope you’ll spare their tender years and not tell them any of your old woman’s nonsense about Katerina. Ici, Perezvon!


Get along with you! Ridiculous boy! You want a whipping for saying such things, that’s what you want!


I’ve been waiting for you for the last hour, Krassotkin,


I am late. I was detained by circumstances. You won’t be thrashed for coming with me?


Come, I say, I’m never thrashed! And you’ve got Perezvon with you?


Yes.


You’re taking him, too?


Ah! if it were only Zhutchka!


That’s impossible. Zhutchka’s non‐existent. Zhutchka is lost in the mists of obscurity.


Ah! couldn’t we do this? You see Ilusha says that Zhutchka was a shaggy, grayish, smoky‐looking dog like Perezvon. Couldn’t you tell him this is Zhutchka, and he might believe you?


Boy, shun a lie, that’s one thing; even with a good object—that’s another. Above all, I hope you’ve not told them anything about my coming.


Heaven forbid! I know what I am about. But you won’t comfort him with Perezvon. You know his father, the captain, ‘the wisp of tow,’ told us that he was going to bring him a real mastiff pup, with a black nose, to‐day. He thinks that would comfort Ilusha; but I doubt it.


And how is Ilusha?


Ah, he is bad, very bad! I believe he’s in consumption: he is quite conscious, but his breathing! His breathing’s gone wrong. The other day he asked to have his boots on to be led round the room. He tried to walk, but he couldn’t stand. ‘Ah, I told you before, father,’ he said, ‘that those boots were no good. I could never walk properly in them.’ He fancied it was his boots that made him stagger, but it was simply weakness, really. He won’t live another week. Herzenstube is looking after him. Now they are rich again—they’ve got heaps of money.


They are rogues.


Who are rogues?


Doctors and the whole crew of quacks collectively, and also, of course, individually. I don’t believe in medicine. It’s a useless institution. I mean to go into all that. But what’s that sentimentality you’ve got up there? The whole class seems to be there every day.


Not the whole class: it’s only ten of our fellows who go to see him every day. There’s nothing in that.


What I don’t understand in all this is the part that Alexey Karamazov is taking in it. His brother’s going to be tried to‐morrow or next day for such a crime, and yet he has so much time to spend on sentimentality with boys.


There’s no sentimentality about it. You are going yourself now to make it up with Ilusha.


Make it up with him? What an absurd expression! But I allow no one to analyze my actions.


And how pleased Ilusha will be to see you! He has no idea that you are coming. Why was it, why was it you wouldn’t come all this time?


My dear boy, that’s my business, not yours. I am going of myself because I choose to, but you’ve all been hauled there by Alexey Karamazov—there’s a difference, you know. And how do you know? I may not be going to make it up at all. It’s a stupid expression.


It’s not Karamazov at all; it’s not his doing. Our fellows began going there of themselves. Of course, they went with Karamazov at first. And there’s been nothing of that sort—no silliness. First one went, and then another. His father was awfully pleased to see us. You know he will simply go out of his mind if Ilusha dies. He sees that Ilusha’s dying. And he seems so glad we’ve made it up with Ilusha. Ilusha asked after you, that was all. He just asks and says no more. His father will go out of his mind or hang himself. He behaved like a madman before. You know he is a very decent man. We made a mistake then. It’s all the fault of that murderer who beat him then.


Karamazov’s a riddle to me all the same. I might have made his acquaintance long ago, but I like to have a proper pride in some cases. Besides, I have a theory about him which I must work out and verify.


I like to watch such realistic scenes, Smurov. Have you noticed how dogs sniff at one another when they meet? It seems to be a law of their nature.


Yes; it’s a funny habit.


No, it’s not funny; you are wrong there. There’s nothing funny in nature, however funny it may seem to man with his prejudices. If dogs could reason and criticize us they’d be sure to find just as much that would be funny to them, if not far more, in the social relations of men, their masters—far more, indeed. I repeat that, because I am convinced that there is far more foolishness among us. That’s Rakitin’s idea—a remarkable idea. I am a Socialist, Smurov.


And what is a Socialist?


That’s when all are equal and all have property in common, there are no marriages, and every one has any religion and laws he likes best, and all the rest of it. You are not old enough to understand that yet. It’s cold, though.


Yes, twelve degrees of frost. Father looked at the thermometer just now.


Have you noticed, Smurov, that in the middle of winter we don’t feel so cold even when there are fifteen or eighteen degrees of frost as we do now, in the beginning of winter, when there is a sudden frost of twelve degrees, especially when there is not much snow. It’s because people are not used to it. Everything is habit with men, everything even in their social and political relations. Habit is the great motive‐power. What a funny‐looking peasant! That peasant’s beard’s frozen,


Lots of people’s beards are frozen,


Don’t provoke him,


It’s all right; he won’t be cross; he’s a nice fellow. Good‐by, Matvey.


Good‐by.


Is your name Matvey?


Yes. Didn’t you know?


No, I didn’t. It was a guess.


You don’t say so! You are a schoolboy, I suppose?


Yes.


You get whipped, I expect?


Nothing to speak of—sometimes.


Does it hurt?


Well, yes, it does.


Ech, what a life!


Good‐by, Matvey.


Good‐by. You are a nice chap, that you are.


That was a nice peasant. I like talking to the peasants, and am always glad to do them justice.


Why did you tell a lie, pretending we are thrashed?


I had to say that to please him.


How do you mean?


You know, Smurov, I don’t like being asked the same thing twice. I like people to understand at the first word. Some things can’t be explained. According to a peasant’s notions, schoolboys are whipped, and must be whipped. What would a schoolboy be if he were not whipped? And if I were to tell him we are not, he’d be disappointed. But you don’t understand that. One has to know how to talk to the peasants.


Only don’t tease them, please, or you’ll get into another scrape as you did about that goose.


So you’re afraid?


Don’t laugh, Kolya. Of course I’m afraid. My father would be awfully cross. I am strictly forbidden to go out with you.


Don’t be uneasy, nothing will happen this time. Hallo, Natasha!


Call me Natasha! What next! My name is Marya,


I am so glad it’s Marya. Good‐by!


Ah, you young rascal! A brat like you to carry on so!


I’m in a hurry. I can’t stay now. You shall tell me next Sunday.


I’ve nothing to tell you next Sunday. You set upon me, you impudent young monkey. I didn’t say anything. You want a whipping, that’s what you want, you saucy jackanapes!


I know you!


Do you?


I know you! I know you!


So much the better for you. Well, it’s time I was going. Good‐by!


You are at your saucy pranks again?


You are at your saucy pranks again? I know, you are at it again!


It’s not your business, brother, if I am at my saucy pranks again,


Not my business?


No; it’s not your business.


Whose then? Whose then? Whose then?


It’s Trifon Nikititch’s business, not yours.


What Trifon Nikititch?


Have you been to the Church of the Ascension?


What Church of Ascension? What for? No, I haven’t,


Do you know Sabaneyev?


What Sabaneyev? No, I don’t know him.


Well then you can go to the devil,


Stop, heigh! What Sabaneyev?


What did he say?


You can never tell what he’s after,


What Sabaneyev is it he’s talking about?


It must be a Sabaneyev who worked for the Kuzmitchovs, that’s who it must be,


For the Kuzmitchovs?


But his name wasn’t Trifon. His name’s Kuzma, not Trifon; but the boy said Trifon Nikititch, so it can’t be the same.


His name is not Trifon and not Sabaneyev, it’s Tchizhov. Alexey Ivanitch is his name. Tchizhov, Alexey Ivanitch.


Alexey Ivanitch is his name. Tchizhov, Alexey Ivanitch.


Not a doubt about it, it’s Tchizhov,


But what did he ask for, what did he ask for, good people?


‘Do you know Sabaneyev?’ says he. And who the devil’s to know who is Sabaneyev?


You’re a senseless fellow. I tell you it’s not Sabaneyev, but Tchizhov, Alexey Ivanitch Tchizhov, that’s who it is!


What Tchizhov? Who is he? Tell me, if you know.


That tall, sniveling fellow who used to sit in the market in the summer.


And what’s your Tchizhov to do with me, good people, eh?


How can I tell what he’s to do with you?


You ought to know yourself what you want with him, if you make such a clamor about him. He spoke to you, he did not speak to us, you stupid. Don’t you really know him?


Know whom?


Tchizhov.


The devil take Tchizhov and you with him. I’ll give him a hiding, that I will. He was laughing at me!


Will give Tchizhov a hiding! More likely he will give you one. You are a fool, that’s what you are!


Not Tchizhov, not Tchizhov, you spiteful, mischievous woman. I’ll give the boy a hiding. Catch him, catch him, he was laughing at me!


What Sabaneyev did you mean?


How do I know? Now there’ll be a hubbub among them all day. I like to stir up fools in every class of society. There’s another blockhead, that peasant there. You know, they say ‘there’s no one stupider than a stupid Frenchman,’ but a stupid Russian shows it in his face just as much. Can’t you see it all over his face that he is a fool, that peasant, eh?


Let him alone, Kolya. Let’s go on.


Nothing could stop me, now I am once off. Hey, good morning, peasant!


Good morning, if you are not laughing at me,


And if I am?


Well, a joke’s a joke. Laugh away. I don’t mind. There’s no harm in a joke.


I beg your pardon, brother, it was a joke.


Well, God forgive you!


Do you forgive me, too?


I quite forgive you. Go along.


I say, you seem a clever peasant.


Cleverer than you,


I doubt it,


It’s true, though.


Perhaps it is.


It is, brother.


Good-by, peasant!


Good-by!


One must sniff round a bit first,


Why ask him to come out?


I know why I want to see him out here in the frost,


Here you are at last! How anxious we’ve been to see you!


There were reasons which you shall know directly. Anyway, I am glad to make your acquaintance. I’ve long been hoping for an opportunity, and have heard a great deal about you,


We should have met anyway. I’ve heard a great deal about you, too; but you’ve been a long time coming here.


Tell me, how are things going?


Ilusha is very ill. He is certainly dying.


How awful! You must admit that medicine is a fraud, Karamazov,


Ilusha has mentioned you often, very often, even in his sleep, in delirium, you know. One can see that you used to be very, very dear to him ... before the incident ... with the knife.... Then there’s another reason.... Tell me, is that your dog?


Yes, Perezvon.


Not Zhutchka?