The Brothers Karamazov 1732 Studios

Russian · Book XI — Ivan

VIII. Третье, и последнее, свидание со Смердяковым

The Third and Last Interview with Smerdyakov

257 sentences · 534 notes

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  1. 1

    While he was still only halfway there, a sharp, dry wind sprang up, the same that had blown early that morning, and a fine, dense, dry snow began to fall.

    Ещеstillещё · adverbmodifies полпути
    наatна · prepositionpreposition marking полпути
    полпутиhalfwayполпути · noun, locative, masculine, singularoblique complement of поднялся
    поднялсяsprang upподняться · verb, past, indicative, middle, singular, perfectivemain verb of the sentence
    острыйsharpострый · adjective, nominative, masculine, singularmodifies ветер
    сухойdryсухой · adjective, nominative, masculine, singularcoordinated with острый, modifies ветер
    ветерwindветер · noun, nominative, masculine, singularsubject of поднялся
    такойsuchтакой · determiner, nominative, masculine, singulardeterminer of ветер, correlative with как
    жеsameже · particlemodifies такой
    какasкак · subordinating conjunctionintroduces the clause of был
    былhad beenбыть · verb, past, indicative, active, singular, imperfectivemain verb of the как-clause, subject elided (ветер)
    вonв · prepositionpreposition marking день
    этотthatэтот · determiner, accusative, masculine, singulardeterminer of день
    деньdayдень · noun, accusative, masculine, singulartemporal complement of был
    раноearlyрано · adverbmodifies утром
    утромin the morningутро · noun, instrumental, neuter, singulartemporal adjunct of был
    иandи · conjunctionlinks the coordination
    посыпалbegan to fallпосыпать · verb, past, indicative, active, singular, perfectivecoordinated with поднялся
    мелкийfineмелкий · adjective, nominative, masculine, singularmodifies снег
    густойdenseгустой · adjective, nominative, masculine, singularcoordinated with мелкий
    сухойdryсухой · adjective, nominative, masculine, singularcoordinated with мелкий
    снегsnowснег · noun, nominative, masculine, singularsubject of посыпал
  2. 2

    It struck the ground without clinging to it, the wind whirled it about, and before long an outright blizzard had set in.

  3. 3

    In that quarter of the town where Smerdyakov lived we have hardly any street-lamps at all.

  4. 4

    Ivan Fyodorovich strode through the darkness, not noticing the storm, instinctively picking out his way.

  5. 5

    His head ached, and there was an agonizing pounding in his temples.

  6. 6

    In his wrists, he could feel it, there were spasms.

  7. 7

    A little before he reached Marya Kondratyevna's small house, Ivan Fyodorovich suddenly came upon a solitary drunk, a little peasant of small stature in a patched homespun coat, who was walking in zigzags, grumbling and cursing, and then suddenly broke off his cursing to strike up a song in a hoarse, drunken voice:

  8. 8

    Ah, Vanka's gone off to Piter, And I shan't wait for him at all!

  9. 9

    But each time he broke off at this second line and again began to curse somebody, then again would suddenly take up the same song.

  10. 10

    Ivan Fyodorovich had long since been feeling a dreadful hatred toward him, without yet giving him a single thought, and now he was suddenly conscious of it.

  11. 11

    At once he felt an irresistible urge to bring his fist down on the little peasant from above.

  12. 12

    Just at that moment they drew level with each other, and the little peasant, lurching violently, suddenly bumped into Ivan with all his weight.

  13. 13

    Ivan shoved him off furiously.

  14. 14

    The little peasant went flying and flopped down like a log on the frozen ground, moaning painfully just once — o-oh! — and fell silent.

  15. 15

    Ivan stepped toward him.

  16. 16

    He lay on his back, completely motionless, unconscious.

  17. 17

    "He'll freeze!" thought Ivan, and he set off again toward Smerdyakov's.

  18. 18

    While they were still in the entryway, Marya Kondratyevna, who had run out to open the door with a candle in her hands, whispered to him that Pavel Fyodorovich (that is, Smerdyakov) was very poorly, sir, not so much that he was bedridden, sir, but almost as if he were out of his mind, sir, and had even ordered the tea taken away, refusing to drink it.

  19. 19

    "What, is he raving, or what?" Ivan Fyodorovich asked rudely.

  20. 20

    "Nothing of the kind, on the contrary, he's quite calm, sir, only don't you talk with him too long…" Marya Kondratyevna begged.

  21. 21

    Ivan Fyodorovich opened the door and stepped into the cottage.

  22. 22

    It was heated just as it had been the time before, but some changes were noticeable in the room: one of the side benches had been carried out, and in its place there now stood a large old leather sofa, mahogany-stained.

  23. 23

    A bed had been made up on it, with fairly clean white pillows.

  24. 24

    On the bed sat Smerdyakov, still in that same dressing gown of his.

  25. 25

    The table had been moved up in front of the sofa, so that the room had grown very cramped.

  26. 26

    On the table lay some thick book in a yellow wrapper, but Smerdyakov was not reading it; he seemed to be sitting there doing nothing at all.

  27. 27

    With a long, silent gaze he met Ivan Fyodorovich and, to all appearances, was not in the least surprised by his coming.

  28. 28

    His face had changed greatly; he had grown very thin and sallow.

  29. 29

    His eyes had sunk, the lower lids had turned blue.

  30. 30

    "So you really are ill?" Ivan Fyodorovich stopped short. "I won't keep you long, and I won't even take off my coat. Where can one sit down here?"

  31. 31

    He went around to the other end of the table, drew a chair up to it, and sat down.

  32. 32

    "Why do you stare and say nothing? I've come with just one question, and I swear I won't leave you without an answer: did the young lady, Katerina Ivanovna, come to see you?"

  33. 33

    Smerdyakov was silent a long while, still looking quietly at Ivan as before, but suddenly he waved his hand and turned his face away from him.

  34. 34

    "What's the matter with you?" Ivan exclaimed.

  35. 35

    "Nothing."

  36. 36

    "What do you mean, nothing?"

  37. 37

    "Well, she came, and what of it — it's all the same to you. Leave me be, sir."

  38. 38

    "No, I won't leave you be! Tell me, when did she come?"

  39. 39

    "Why, I'd quite forgotten even to remember her," Smerdyakov smiled contemptuously, and then suddenly, turning his face back toward Ivan, fixed him with a kind of frenzied, hate-filled look, the very same look with which he had gazed at him during that interview a month before.

  40. 40

    "It's you yourself who seem to be ill — look how drawn you are, there's no face left on you," he said to Ivan.

  41. 41

    "Never mind my health — answer what you're asked."

  42. 42

    "And why have your eyes turned yellow — the whites are entirely yellow. Are you in great torment, then?"

  43. 43

    He smiled contemptuously and then suddenly burst out laughing outright.

  44. 44

    "Listen, I've said I won't leave you without an answer!" Ivan shouted in terrible irritation.

  45. 45

    "Why do you keep badgering me, sir? Why do you torment me?" Smerdyakov said with suffering.

  46. 46

    "Eh, the devil! You're no concern of mine. Answer the question, and I'll leave at once."

  47. 47

    "I've nothing to answer you!" Smerdyakov dropped his eyes again.

  48. 48

    "I assure you I'll make you answer!"

  49. 49

    "Why do you keep fretting so?" Smerdyakov suddenly fixed his eyes on him, not so much with scorn now as with something almost like loathing. "Is it because the trial begins tomorrow? Why, nothing will come of it for you — be assured of that at last! Go on home, lie down and sleep in peace, and fear nothing."

  50. 50

    "I don't understand you… what have I to fear tomorrow?" Ivan brought out in astonishment, and suddenly a kind of dread really did breathe cold upon his soul. Smerdyakov measured him with his eyes.

  51. 51

    "You don't un-der-stand?" he drawled reproachfully. "What a thing it is, for a clever man to want to put on such a farce!"

  52. 52

    Ivan looked at him in silence.

  53. 53

    This unexpected tone alone, an unprecedentedly haughty one with which this former lackey of his now addressed him, was extraordinary in itself.

  54. 54

    Such a tone there had not been even the last time, after all.

  55. 55

    "I tell you, you've nothing to fear. I'll give no testimony against you, there's no evidence. Look how your hands are shaking. Why are your fingers twitching like that? Go on home — ''it was not you who killed him''."

  56. 56

    Ivan gave a start; he remembered Alyosha.

  57. 57

    "I know it wasn't I…" he began to stammer.

  58. 58

    "You know?" Smerdyakov caught him up again.

  59. 59

    Ivan leapt up and seized him by the shoulder:

  60. 60

    "Tell me everything, you reptile! Tell me everything!"

  61. 61

    Smerdyakov was not frightened in the least.

  62. 62

    He only riveted his eyes upon him with a senseless hatred.

  63. 63

    "Well then, if that's how it is, it was you yourself who killed him," he whispered to him furiously.

  64. 64

    Ivan sank down onto the chair, as if he had worked something out. He gave a malicious smile.

  65. 65

    "Is this all still about that other time? About the same thing as last time?"

  66. 66

    "Yes, last time too you stood before me and understood it all, and you understand it now as well."

  67. 67

    "I understand only that you're out of your mind."

  68. 68

    "Doesn't a man ever tire of it! We sit here face to face — what would be the point, one would think, of fooling each other and playing out a farce? Or do you still want to lay it all on me alone, to my very face? You killed him, you are the chief murderer, and I was only your accomplice, your faithful servant Lichard, and it was at your word that I carried out the deed."

  69. 69

    "Carried out? Why, did you really kill him?" Ivan went cold.

  70. 70

    Something seemed to give way in his brain, and his whole body began to tremble with a fine, cold shudder.

  71. 71

    Now Smerdyakov himself looked at him in surprise: probably Ivan's fright, by its very sincerity, had at last struck him.

  72. 72

    "Can it really be that you truly knew nothing?" he stammered mistrustfully, grinning crookedly into his face.

  73. 73

    Ivan went on staring at him; it was as though his tongue had failed him.

  74. 74

    Ah, Vanka's gone off to Piter, And I shan't wait for him — rang out suddenly in his head.

  75. 75

    "Do you know what: I'm afraid you're a dream, that you're a phantom sitting there before me?" he stammered.

  76. 76

    "There's no phantom here, sir, except the two of us, sir, and a certain third one besides. Without a doubt he is here now, this third one, between the two of us."

  77. 77

    "Who is he? Who is here? Who is the third?" Ivan Fyodorovich said in fright, looking about him and hurriedly searching with his eyes for someone in every corner.

  78. 78

    "This third one is God, sir, Providence itself, sir; it is here beside us now, sir, only you won't look for it, you won't find it."

  79. 79

    "You've lied, that you killed him!" Ivan bellowed in a frenzy. "Either you're out of your mind, or you're teasing me, the same as last time!"

  80. 80

    Smerdyakov, as before, not in the least afraid, kept watching him searchingly.

  81. 81

    He still could not somehow overcome his mistrust; it still seemed to him that Ivan "knew everything" and was only pretending otherwise, so as "to lay it all on him alone, to his very face."

  82. 82

    "Wait a moment, sir," he said at last in a weak voice, and suddenly, drawing his left leg out from under the table, he began rolling his trouser leg up.

  83. 83

    The leg turned out to be in a long white stocking and shod in a slipper.

  84. 84

    Without hurrying, Smerdyakov removed the garter and thrust his fingers deep down into the stocking.

  85. 85

    Ivan Fyodorovich watched him, and suddenly he began to shake in a convulsive fright.

  86. 86

    "Madman!" he yelled, and springing up quickly from his place, he recoiled backward, so that he struck his back against the wall and seemed to stick to it, his whole body drawn taut as a string.

  87. 87

    He stared at Smerdyakov in mad horror.

  88. 88

    The other, not in the least disconcerted by his fright, went on fumbling in the stocking, as though still straining with his fingers to catch hold of something in it and pull it out.

  89. 89

    At last he caught hold of it and began to draw it out.

  90. 90

    Ivan Fyodorovich saw that it was some papers, or some packet of papers; Smerdyakov drew it out and laid it on the table.

  91. 91

    "There, sir!" he said quietly.

  92. 92

    "What?" Ivan answered, trembling.

  93. 93

    "Be so good as to look, sir," Smerdyakov pronounced just as quietly.

  94. 94

    Ivan stepped up to the table, took hold of the packet and began to unwrap it, but suddenly jerked back his fingers as though from the touch of some loathsome, dreadful reptile.

  95. 95

    "Your fingers keep trembling, sir, in a spasm," Smerdyakov observed, and himself unhurriedly unwrapped the paper.

  96. 96

    Under the wrapper there proved to be three bundles of hundred-rouble rainbow notes.

  97. 97

    "It's all here, sir, all three thousand, you needn't even count it. Take it, sir," he invited Ivan, nodding toward the money.

  98. 98

    Ivan sank onto the chair. He was pale as a sheet.

  99. 99

    "You frightened me… with that stocking…" he said, smirking somehow strangely.

  100. 100

    "Can it really be, can it really be that until now you knew nothing?" Smerdyakov asked once again.

  101. 101

    "No, I didn't know. I kept thinking it was Dmitri. Brother! Brother! Ah!" He suddenly clutched his head with both hands. "Listen: did you kill him alone? Without my brother, or together with him?"

  102. 102

    "Only together with you, sir; it was together with you that I killed him, sir, and Dmitri Fyodorovich is as innocent as can be, sir."

  103. 103

    "All right, all right… About me later. Why is it I keep trembling so… I can't get a word out."

  104. 104

    "You were so bold back then, sir — 'everything is permitted,' you used to say, sir — and now look how frightened you are!" Smerdyakov stammered, marveling. "Wouldn't you care for some lemonade, I'll have it brought at once, sir. It can be very refreshing. Only this had best be covered up first, sir."

  105. 105

    And he nodded again toward the bundles.

  106. 106

    He made a move to get up and call Marya Kondratyevna through the door, to have her make and bring some lemonade, but, casting about for something to cover the money with so that she should not see it, he first drew out his handkerchief, yet since that proved once again to be thoroughly blown into, he took from the table the one solitary thick yellow book lying on it, the one Ivan had noticed on coming in, and pressed it down on the money.

  107. 107

    The title of the book was: "The Homilies of Our Holy Father Isaac the Syrian."

  108. 108

    Ivan Fyodorovich managed mechanically to read the title.

  109. 109

    "I don't want any lemonade," he said. "About me later. Sit down and tell me: how did you do it? Tell me everything…"

  110. 110

    "You'd do well at least to take off your coat, sir, or else you'll be drenched in sweat."

  111. 111

    Ivan Fyodorovich, as though only now realizing it, tore off his coat and, without rising from the chair, threw it onto the bench.

  112. 112

    "Speak, then, please, speak!"

  113. 113

    He seemed to grow calmer. He waited confidently for Smerdyakov to tell him ''everything'' now.

  114. 114

    "About how it was done, sir?" Smerdyakov sighed. "It was done in the most natural manner, sir, on those very words of yours…"

  115. 115

    "About my words later," Ivan interrupted again, but no longer shouting as before, enunciating his words firmly and as though he had wholly mastered himself. "Only tell me in detail how you did it. Everything in order. Don't forget anything. The details, above all the details. I beg you."

  116. 116

    "You went off, and then I fell into the cellar, sir…"

  117. 117

    "In a fit, or did you pretend?"

  118. 118

    "I pretended, of course, sir. I pretended in everything. I went calmly down the stairs, sir, right to the very bottom, sir, and lay down calmly, sir, and the moment I lay down I set up a screaming. And I thrashed about until they carried me out."

  119. 119

    "Stop! And the whole time, and afterward too, and in the hospital, you were pretending all along?"

  120. 120

    "By no means, sir. The very next day, in the morning, before the hospital even, a real one struck me, and so violent a one that there hadn't been the like in many years. For two days I lay in utter unconsciousness."

  121. 121

    — Good, good. Go on.

  122. 122

    — They laid me down on that cot, sir, and I knew it would be behind the partition, sir, for every time I fell ill Marfa Ignatyevna always put me to bed for the night behind that very partition, in her own quarters. They had always been gentle with me, ever since the day I was born, sir. In the night I groaned, sir, only softly. All the while I was waiting for Dmitri Fyodorovich.

  123. 123

    — Waiting how — for him to come to you?

  124. 124

    — Why would he come to me. I waited for him to come to the house, sir, for I no longer had the slightest doubt that he would turn up that very night, since, having lost me and having no word of anything, he would inevitably be obliged to climb into the house himself over the fence, sir, as he knew how to do, and to carry out whatever he meant to.

  125. 125

    — And if he had not come?

  126. 126

    — Then nothing at all would have happened, sir. Without him I would never have brought myself to it.

  127. 127

    — Good, good… speak more plainly, don't hurry, and above all — leave nothing out!

  128. 128

    — I was waiting for them to kill Fyodor Pavlovich, sir… that much was certain, sir. Because I had already worked them up to it so… in those last days, sir… and the main thing was — by then they knew the signals. With their suspicious nature and the fury that had built up in them over those days, they were bound to get into the house itself by means of the signals, sir. That was certain. And so I waited for them, sir.

  129. 129

    — Wait, — Ivan broke in, — but if he had killed him, he would have taken the money and carried it off; surely that is exactly how you had to reason it out? What, then, would have been left for you, after him? I don't see it.

  130. 130

    — But the money they would never have found, sir. It was only from me that they had it the money was under the mattress. Only that wasn't the truth, sir. It used to lie in the strongbox, that's how it really was, sir.

  131. 131

    And afterward I, since they trusted me alone of all the human race, taught Fyodor Pavlovich to move that same packet with the money into the corner behind the icons, because nobody at all would ever guess to look there, especially someone coming in a hurry.

  132. 132

    And so it lay there, that packet, in their corner behind the icons, sir.

  133. 133

    Under the mattress it would have been downright absurd to keep it at all; in the strongbox it was at least under lock and key. But now everyone here believes it supposedly lay under the mattress. A foolish line of reasoning, sir.

  134. 134

    So then, if Dmitri Fyodorovich had committed that very murder, he would either, finding nothing, have fled in haste, sir, starting at every rustle, the way murderers always do, or else he would have been arrested, sir.

  135. 135

    And so I could always, sir — the next day, or even that very same night, sir — climb behind the icons and carry off that money, sir, and the whole thing would have fallen on Dmitri Fyodorovich. That I could always count on.

  136. 136

    — Well, and what if he hadn't killed him, but only beaten him?

  137. 137

    — If he hadn't killed him, then of course I wouldn't have dared take the money, and it would have come to nothing. But there was this calculation too: that he would beat him senseless, and meanwhile I would have time to take it, and then later I'd report to Fyodor Pavlovich that it was none other than Dmitri Fyodorovich who, having beaten him, made off with the money.

  138. 138

    — Wait… I'm getting confused. So it turns out that Dmitri did the killing after all, and you only took the money?

  139. 139

    — No, it wasn't he who did the killing, sir. Of course, I could tell you even now that they were the murderers… but I don't want to lie to you now, because… because if you really, as I see for myself, understood nothing of all this until now and were not merely feigning before me, so as to throw your own plain guilt onto me to my face, then all the same you are guilty in the whole thing, sir, for you knew about the murder, sir, and entrusted the killing to me, sir, and yourself, knowing everything, went away.

  140. 140

    And that is why I want to prove it to your face this very evening, that the chief murderer in all this is you alone, sir, and I am only the lesser one, though it was I who did the killing. And you are the lawful murderer, and that's the truth of it!

  141. 141

    — Why, why am I a murderer? Oh God! — Ivan finally lost his composure, forgetting that he had put off everything concerning himself until the end of the conversation. — Is it that same Chermashnya again? Wait, tell me, why did you need my consent, if you took Chermashnya for consent? How do you account for that now?

  142. 142

    — Once I was sure of your consent, I knew you would not raise an outcry over those three thousand once they were lost, even should the authorities for some reason suspect me instead of Dmitri Fyodorovich, or suspect me of being in league with Dmitri Fyodorovich; on the contrary, you would have shielded me from the others… And once you had come into your inheritance, you could even reward me afterward, all the rest of my life, for it was through me, after all, that you were graciously able to receive that inheritance — whereas, had he married Agrafena Alexandrovna, you'd have been left with nothing but a fig.

  143. 143

    — Ah! So you meant to torment me afterward as well, all my life! — Ivan ground out. — And what if I hadn't gone away then, but had informed on you?

  144. 144

    — And what could you have informed about then? That I had egged you on to go to Chermashnya? Why, that's all nonsense, sir. Besides, after our conversation you would either have gone or stayed. If you had stayed, then nothing would have happened, I'd have known, sir, that you didn't want the thing done, and I would have undertaken nothing.

  145. 145

    But if you did go, it meant you had assured me that you wouldn't dare bring me before the court and that you'd forgive me those three thousand.

  146. 146

    And besides, you couldn't have pursued me afterward at all, because then I'd have told everything in court, sir — that is, not that I stole or killed — that I wouldn't have said, sir — but that you yourself had urged me to steal and to kill, and only I had refused.

  147. 147

    That's just why I needed your consent then, so that you'd have nothing to corner me with, sir, for where would you have found proof of it; whereas I could always corner you, sir, by exposing what a thirst you'd had for your father's death — and there's my word for it: the public would all have believed it, and you'd have been ashamed your whole life long.

  148. 148

    — So I had it, then, I had this thirst, I had it? — Ivan ground out again.

  149. 149

    — Beyond all doubt you had it, sir, and by your consent you silently sanctioned the whole business for me then, sir, — Smerdyakov gave Ivan a steady look.

  150. 150

    He was very weak and spoke quietly and wearily, but something inward and hidden was goading him; he plainly had some purpose of his own. Ivan sensed it coming.

  151. 151

    — Go on, — he said to him, — go on about that night.

  152. 152

    — What more is there, sir! There I lie, and I hear the master cry out, it seemed. And just before that Grigory Vasilyich had suddenly got up and gone out and suddenly given a great shout, and then everything went quiet, dark.

  153. 153

    So there I lie, waiting, my heart pounding, I can bear it no longer. At last I got up and went out, sir — I see the window onto the garden standing open on the left, and I took another step to the left, sir, to listen whether they were alive and sitting there or not, and I hear the master tossing about and moaning, so he was alive, sir.

  154. 154

    Ah, I think! I went up to the window and called to the master: "It's me, you know." And he says to me: "He was here, he was, he's run off!" Meaning Dmitri Fyodorovich, that is, sir. "He killed Grigory!" — "Where?" — I whisper to him. "There, in the corner," — he points, whispering too. "Wait," — I say.

  155. 155

    I went into the corner to look, and by the wall I stumbled right onto Grigory Vasilyevich, lying there, all covered in blood, senseless.

  156. 156

    So it was true that Dmitri Fyodorovich had been here, it flashed through my head at once, and at that same instant I resolved to finish the whole thing then and there, all of a sudden, sir, since Grigory Vasilyevich, even if he were still alive, lying senseless, would see nothing for the time being.

  157. 157

    The only risk, sir, was that Marfa Ignatyevna might suddenly wake. I felt that in that minute, only by then the thirst had taken hold of my whole being, so that my breath caught.

  158. 158

    I came back under the window to the master and say: "She's here, she's come, Agrafena Alexandrovna has come, she's asking to see you." And he gave a great start, all over, like a baby: "Where here? Where?" — and he keeps moaning, but still doesn't believe it.

  159. 159

    "There," I say, "she's standing right there, open up!" He looks at me through the window, half believing and half not, and afraid to open up — afraid of me, that is, I think.

  160. 160

    And here's the funny part: I suddenly took it into my head to tap out those very signals to him on the window frame, that Grushenka, you see, had come — right there before his eyes; the words he seemed not to believe, but the moment I tapped out the signals he ran at once to open the door.

  161. 161

    He opened it. I was about to step in, but he stands there, blocking my way with his whole body. "Where is she, where is she?" — he looks at me and trembles.

  162. 162

    Well, I think, if he's that afraid of me — this is bad! and at that my own legs went weak with fear that he wouldn't let me into the rooms, or would cry out, or Marfa Ignatyevna would come running, or something else would happen; I no longer remember it, but I must have stood there pale before him.

  163. 163

    I whisper to him: "Why, there, there she is under the window, how is it," I say, "that you didn't see her?" — "Then bring her in, you bring her in!" — "But she's afraid," I say, "the shouting frightened her, she's hidden in a bush, go and call to her yourself," I say, "from the study."

  164. 164

    He ran over, went up to the window, set the candle on the sill. "Grushenka," he cries, "Grushenka, are you there?" He himself is shouting it, but he won't lean out the window, won't move away from me, out of that very fear, because he'd grown terribly afraid of me, and so doesn't dare leave my side.

  165. 165

    "Why, there she is," I say (I went up to the window myself and leaned all the way out), "there she is in the bush, laughing at you, do you see?" He believed it all at once, started shaking all over — terribly in love with her he was, sir — and leaned right out the window.

  166. 166

    And then I snatched up that very paperweight, the cast-iron one on their table — you remember it, sir, there must be a good three pounds in it — swung it back, and from behind, with the corner of it, right at the crown of his head.

  167. 167

    He didn't even cry out. He just suddenly sank down, and I struck a second time, and a third. On the third blow I felt that I'd cracked his skull open.

  168. 168

    He suddenly toppled over backward, face up, all covered in blood. I looked myself over: no blood on me, none had spattered; I wiped the paperweight, put it back, went behind the icons, took the money out of the packet, and threw the packet on the floor and that same pink ribbon beside it.

  169. 169

    I went down into the garden, trembling all over. Straight to that apple tree with the hollow — you know that hollow, and I had long since marked it out; there was already a rag and some paper lying in it, prepared long ago; I wrapped the whole sum in the paper, then in the rag, and stuffed it in deep.

  170. 170

    And so it stayed there better than two weeks, that very sum, sir; only afterward, after the hospital, did I take it out.

  171. 171

    I went back to my own bed, lay down, and think to myself in dread: "Now, if Grigory Vasilyevich is killed outright, then that very thing may turn out very badly; but if he isn't killed and comes to, then it will turn out very well, because then he'll be the witness that Dmitri Fyodorovich came, and so it was he who killed and carried off the money, sir."

  172. 172

    Then, out of doubt and impatience, I began to groan, so as to wake Marfa Ignatyevna the sooner. At last she got up, started to rush over to me, but when she suddenly saw that Grigory Vasilyevich was gone, she ran out, and I hear her start to wail in the garden.

  173. 173

    Well, sir, then the whole thing got going and went on all night, and by then I was perfectly easy about everything.

  174. 174

    The narrator stopped. The whole time Ivan had listened to him in deathly silence, not stirring, not taking his eyes off him.

  175. 175

    Smerdyakov, as he told it, glanced at him only now and then, but for the most part looked off to the side.

  176. 176

    Having finished his account, he was visibly stirred himself and drew his breath heavily. Sweat had broken out on his face.

  177. 177

    It was impossible, however, to make out whether he felt remorse or anything of the kind.

  178. 178

    — Wait, — Ivan put in, working it out. — And the door? If he opened the door only for you, then how could Grigory have seen it open before you did? For Grigory saw it before you, didn't he?

  179. 179

    It is remarkable that Ivan asked this in the most peaceable voice, in an altogether different tone, even, quite without malice, so that if someone had now opened the door to them and glanced in from the threshold, he would surely have concluded that the two were sitting there discussing peaceably some ordinary, if interesting, matter.

  180. 180

    — As for that door, and Grigory Vasilyevich's supposedly having seen it standing open, it only seemed so to him, — Smerdyakov gave a twisted smile. — I'll tell you, the man's no man, sir, but for all the world like a stubborn gelding: he saw nothing, but it seemed to him that he saw, — and now there's no shaking him off it, sir.

  181. 181

    It's our great good luck, yours and mine, that he dreamed it up, because after that they'll convict Dmitri Fyodorovich beyond all doubt.

  182. 182

    — Listen, — Ivan Fyodorovich brought out, as if beginning to lose himself again and straining to grasp something, — listen… There was a great deal more I meant to ask you, but I've forgotten… I keep forgetting and getting confused… Yes! Tell me just this one thing: why did you tear open the packet and then leave it there on the floor? Why not simply carry it off in the packet… When you were telling it, it seemed to me you spoke of that packet as though that was exactly how it had to be done… but why it had to be so — I can't understand…

  183. 183

    — That I did for a certain reason, sir. For take a knowing, practiced man, like me, for instance, who had seen that money beforehand himself and maybe stuffed it into that packet with his own hands and watched with his own eyes as it was sealed and labeled — what earthly reason would such a man have, supposing he had done the killing, to start tearing open the packet then, after the murder, and in such a frantic rush at that, knowing perfectly well even without it that the money was bound to be in that packet, sir?

  184. 184

    On the contrary, were it a thief, like me, for instance, he'd simply have shoved that packet into his pocket without opening it at all and made off with it as fast as he could, sir.

  185. 185

    It was altogether otherwise with Dmitri Fyodorovich: he knew of the packet only by hearsay, he'd never seen it himself, and so, having got hold of it, supposedly from under the mattress, he tore it open then and there as fast as he could, to make sure whether that very money really was in it.

  186. 186

    And the packet he threw down right there, not yet stopping to consider that it would be left as evidence against him after he'd gone, because he's no practiced thief, sir, and had never before stolen anything openly, being a hereditary nobleman, sir; and if he had now resolved to steal, it was, so to speak, not as stealing, but only coming to take back his own property, since he'd announced as much beforehand to the whole town and even boasted in advance, out loud, before everyone, that he would go and take his own property from Fyodor Pavlovich.

  187. 187

    I didn't put this very idea to the prosecutor outright at my examination, but, on the contrary, led him up to it as if by a hint, sir, as though I didn't understand it myself, and as though they had thought it up on their own and I hadn't prompted them, sir — so that the gentleman prosecutor fairly slavered over this very hint of mine, sir…

  188. 188

    — So is it possible, is it really possible that you thought all this out right then, on the spot? — exclaimed Ivan Fyodorovich, beside himself with astonishment. He was again staring at Smerdyakov in alarm.

  189. 189

    — Mercy on us, can a man think all that up in such a frantic rush, sir? It had all been thought out beforehand.

  190. 190

    — Well… well, then the devil himself must have been helping you! — Ivan Fyodorovich exclaimed again. — No, you are no fool, you're far cleverer than I thought…

  191. 191

    He stood up, plainly meaning to walk about the room. He was in terrible anguish.

  192. 192

    But since the table blocked the way and one had almost to squeeze between the table and the wall, he merely turned on the spot and sat down again.

  193. 193

    That he had not managed to take a turn about the room may suddenly have irritated him, so that, almost in his former frenzy, he abruptly burst out:

  194. 194

    — Listen, you miserable, contemptible man! Don't you understand that if I haven't killed you yet, it is only because I'm saving you for your testimony tomorrow in court.

  195. 195

    God sees, — Ivan raised his hand on high, — perhaps I too was guilty, perhaps I really did harbor a secret wish that… my father would die, but, I swear to you, I was not so guilty as you think, and perhaps I did not urge you on at all. No, no, I did not urge you on!

  196. 196

    But all the same, I'll testify against myself, tomorrow, in court, I've made up my mind! I'll tell everything, everything. But we'll appear together, you and I! And whatever you may say against me in court, whatever you may give in evidence — I accept it and am not afraid of you; I'll confirm it all myself! But you too must confess before the court! You must, you must, we'll go together! And so it shall be!

  197. 197

    Ivan brought this out solemnly and forcefully, and it was plain from the very flash of his eyes that so it would be.

  198. 198

    — You're ill, I see, sir, quite ill, sir. Your eyes have gone all yellow, sir, — said Smerdyakov, but quite without mockery, even as though with pity.

  199. 199

    — We'll go together! — Ivan repeated. — And if you won't go — it makes no difference, I'll confess alone.

  200. 200

    Smerdyakov was silent a moment, as though pondering.

  201. 201

    — None of that will happen, sir, and you won't go, sir, — he decided at last, beyond appeal.

  202. 202

    — You don't understand me! — Ivan exclaimed reproachfully.

  203. 203

    — Too ashamed you'll be, sir, if you confess to it all yourself. And what's more it'll be useless, quite useless, sir, for I'll just come right out and say that I never told you any such thing, sir, ever, and that you've either fallen into some illness (which is the look of it, sir), or have so pitied your dear brother that you've sacrificed yourself and made it up against me — seeing as how you reckoned me a mere gnat all your life, sir, not a man at all. Well, and who'll believe you, and what's even one shred of proof you have?

  204. 204

    — Listen, you've shown me this money now, of course, to convince me.

  205. 205

    Smerdyakov took the Isaac the Syrian off the packets and laid it aside.

  206. 206

    — Take this money away with you, sir, and carry it off, — Smerdyakov sighed.

  207. 207

    — Of course I'll take it away! But why are you giving it to me, if it was for this that you killed? — Ivan looked at him in great astonishment.

  208. 208

    — I've no need of it at all, sir, — Smerdyakov brought out in a trembling voice, with a wave of his hand. — There was that earlier notion, sir, that with such money I'd begin a new life, in Moscow, or rather abroad — such was the dream, sir — and most of all because "everything is permitted." That you truly did teach me, sir, for you told me a great deal of this at the time: that if there is no infinite God, then there is no virtue at all, and indeed no need of it whatever. That was the truth from you. So that's how I reasoned it.

  209. 209

    — Reached it by your own wits? — Ivan gave a crooked smile.

  210. 210

    — Under your guidance, sir.

  211. 211

    — And now, it seems, you've come to believe in God, since you're giving the money back?

  212. 212

    — No, sir, I've not come to believe, sir, — Smerdyakov whispered.

  213. 213

    — Then why give it back?

  214. 214

    — Enough… never mind, sir! — Smerdyakov waved his hand again. — Why, you yourself used to say it all then, that everything is permitted, so why are you so troubled now yourself, sir? You even want to go and testify against yourself… Only none of that will happen! You won't go and testify! — Smerdyakov decided again, firmly and with conviction.

  215. 215

    — You'll see! — Ivan brought out.

  216. 216

    — It cannot be. You're very clever, sir. You love money, that I know, sir, and you love honor too, because you're very proud; you love women's beauty beyond measure, but most of all you love to live in calm contentment and to bow to no one — that most of all, sir.

  217. 217

    You won't want to ruin your life forever by taking on such shame in court. You're like Fyodor Pavlovich, most of all, sir; of all his children you came out the most like him, with one and the same soul as theirs, sir.

  218. 218

    — You're no fool, — Ivan brought out, as though struck; the blood rushed to his face, — I used to think you were a fool. You're in earnest now! — he remarked, looking at Smerdyakov all at once in a new way.

  219. 219

    — It was out of your pride that you thought me a fool. Take the money, sir.

  220. 220

    Ivan took all three packets of banknotes and thrust them into his pocket without wrapping them in anything.

  221. 221

    — Tomorrow I'll show them in court, — he said.

  222. 222

    — No one there will believe you, sir, seeing as you've money enough of your own now anyway — took it from the strongbox and brought it along, sir.

  223. 223

    Ivan rose from his seat.

  224. 224

    — I repeat to you, if I haven't killed you, it's solely because I need you for tomorrow; remember that, don't forget it!

  225. 225

    — Well, go on, kill me, sir. Kill me now, — Smerdyakov suddenly brought out strangely, looking strangely at Ivan. — You won't dare even that, sir, — he added with a bitter smile, — you'll dare nothing, you that were once so bold a man, sir!

  226. 226

    — Until tomorrow! — Ivan cried, and made to go.

  227. 227

    — Wait… show me them once more.

  228. 228

    Ivan took out the banknotes and showed them to him. Smerdyakov looked at them for some ten seconds.

  229. 229

    — Well, off you go, — he brought out, with a wave of his hand. — Ivan Fyodorovich! — he suddenly called after him again.

  230. 230

    — What do you want? — Ivan turned around, already on his way out.

  231. 231

    — Goodbye, sir!

  232. 232

    — Until tomorrow! — Ivan cried again, and went out of the hut.

  233. 233

    The snowstorm was still going on. The first few steps he walked briskly, but suddenly he seemed to stagger.

  234. 234

    "This is something physical," — he thought, with a smile. A kind of joy, as it were, had now come down into his soul.

  235. 235

    He felt within himself a kind of boundless firmness: an end to the waverings that had so dreadfully tormented him all this last while!

  236. 236

    The decision had been taken, "and it will not change now," — he thought happily.

  237. 237

    At that instant he suddenly stumbled over something and nearly fell.

  238. 238

    Stopping, he made out at his feet the little peasant he had knocked down, still lying in the very same spot, senseless and motionless.

  239. 239

    The snowstorm had by now nearly buried his face.

  240. 240

    Ivan suddenly seized hold of him and hoisted him onto his back.

  241. 241

    Catching sight of a light to his right, in a little house, he went up, knocked at the shutters, and asked the townsman who answered — the house was his — to help him drag the peasant to the police lockup, promising to pay him three rubles for it on the spot.

  242. 242

    The townsman got himself ready and came out.

  243. 243

    I will not set down in detail how Ivan Fyodorovich managed at that point to gain his end and get the peasant settled at the station house, with the order that a doctor examine him at once — and here too he again handed out money with a liberal hand, "for expenses."

  244. 244

    I will say only that the business took up nearly a whole hour. But Ivan Fyodorovich was left very well satisfied. His thoughts scattered wide and went to work.

  245. 245

    "Had my mind not been so firmly made up about tomorrow," he suddenly thought with relish, "I would not have stopped a whole hour to see to a little peasant, but would have passed him by and merely spat at the thought of his freezing to death…

  246. 246

    Yet how I am able to observe myself," he thought in that same minute with still greater relish, "and they had decided over there that I was losing my mind!"

  247. 247

    Reaching his own house, he suddenly stopped, struck by an unexpected question: "Ought I not to go this very moment, right now, to the prosecutor and declare everything?"

  248. 248

    He settled the question by turning back toward the house: "Tomorrow, all of it together!" he whispered to himself, and — strange to say — almost all his gladness, all his contentment with himself, drained away in an instant.

  249. 249

    And when he stepped into his room, something icy suddenly touched his heart, like a recollection — or rather a reminder — of something tormenting and loathsome that was present in this very room now, at this moment, and had been here before as well.

  250. 250

    Wearily he sank onto his sofa. The old woman brought him a samovar; he brewed his tea but did not touch it; he sent the old woman away until tomorrow.

  251. 251

    He sat on the sofa and felt his head swimming. He felt that he was ill and powerless.

  252. 252

    He had begun to drop off to sleep, but in his uneasiness he rose and paced about the room to drive off his drowsiness.

  253. 253

    At moments it seemed to him as though he were delirious. But it was not his illness that occupied him most of all; sitting down again, he began now and then to glance about him, as if peering after something.

  254. 254

    This happened several times. At last his gaze fixed itself intently upon a single point.

  255. 255

    Ivan smiled, but a flush of anger flooded his face.

  256. 256

    For a long while he sat in his place, propping his head hard with both hands and still squinting his eyes toward that former point — toward the sofa standing against the opposite wall.

  257. 257

    Something there was plainly irritating him — some object — disturbing him, tormenting him.

The particulars

The text
Братья Карамазовы, Fyodor Dostoevsky. Book XI — Ivan.
Translation
Public-domain Russian (Dostoevsky, d. 1881). Translation © 2026 1732 Studios.
Words
Every word of the text, by letter.
Data
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Two whoopie pies and a pine. An inside joke.