Chapter 12 Volume III Preliminary Review
Let us now return to Peter Ilyich Perkhokin.He knocked desperately on the closed door of the businesswoman Morozova's house, but of course he finally opened it.Fenya, who had been terribly frightened two hours before, and had not yet made up her mind whether to go to bed from anxiety and "worries," was now almost hysterical at the sound of such frantic knocks: she She thought Dmitri Fyodorovitch was knocking again (though she had seen him go away), because no one knocked so "recklessly" except him.She hurried to the porter, who was already awake, and was about to open the door when he heard a knock; she begged him not to let anyone in.But after questioning the knocker, the gatekeeper understood who he was, knew that he was in a hurry to find Fenya, and finally decided to open the door for him.Peter Ilyich came to the kitchen mentioned above, met Fenya, and she begged Peter Ilyich to allow the porter to come in with her because of "suspiciousness".Pyotr Ilyich began to question her in detail, and immediately got to the crux of the matter: that, when Dmitry Fyodorovich was running out to find Grushenka, he took a copper stone from a copper mortar. But when he came back, the copper pestle was gone, and his hands were covered with blood. "The blood is still flowing, and the blood is dripping down from my hand, drop by drop!" Fenya said loudly. .Evidently she had concocted such a horrific scene in her own chaotic imagination.But Peter Ilyich had seen the blood-stained hands, although the blood did not flow from them, and he himself scrubbed them clean.But the question is not whether the blood on his hands dried up quickly, but where did Dmitri go with the little brass pestle, whether he must have gone to see Fyodor Pavlovich, and On what grounds can such a definite conclusion be drawn.Peter Ilyich nails this.Although in the end no definite information was obtained, an opinion was formed that Dmitry Fyodorovich could not go anywhere but his father's house, and therefore something must be wrong there. . "When he came back," said Fenya nervously, "I confessed everything to him, and then I began to ask him in detail: 'My dear Dmitry Fedorovich, why are you so full of blood on both hands? Blood?'" He seemed to answer her that it was human blood, and he had just killed someone. "He admitted it like this, he confessed it all to me, and immediately expressed regret, but he suddenly ran out like a madman. After I sat down, I thought: where is he running like a madman now? I thought he was going to Mokroye to kill my lady. I hurried out to beg him not to kill her, but I ran to his place, and as soon as I got to Plotnikov's shop I saw He is about to leave, and the blood on his hands is gone." (Fenya saw and remembered this.) Fenya's grandmother also insisted that her granddaughter was telling the truth.Peter Ilyich made other inquiries, and left, more anxious than he had entered.
It seemed the easiest way for him to go directly to Fyodor Pavlovitch's house to find out if something had happened, and if so, what, and only after he was sure of it did Pyotr Ilyich Will go to the Chief of Police as planned.But it was so dark, and the door of Fyodor Pavlovich's house was so solid that it had to be knocked again, and he didn't know Fyodor Pavlovich very well—if After he knocked, it was opened to him, and suddenly it was found safe and sound, so that to-morrow that mocking Fyodor Pavlovitch would be telling a joke all over town about a An unknown official, Perkhoking, broke into his place in the middle of the night to ask if he had been murdered.That would be a shame!The only thing in the world that Pyotr Ilyich feared was humiliation.But the feeling that possessed him was so strong that he stamped his foot viciously, cursed himself, and immediately set off on a new route, but not to Fyodor Pavlovich. , but to Mrs. Hohlakov's.He thought that if she could answer the question whether she had given Dmitri Fyodorovitch three thousand rubles at such and such a moment just now, and if the answer was no, he would immediately go to the chief of police without having to go Fyodor Pavlovitch was at home.If it was the other way around, he would put everything off until tomorrow and go home first.Of course it is not difficult to imagine a young man who decides to call on an upper-class lady whom he does not know in the middle of the night, near eleven o'clock, possibly rousing her from her bed and proposing a It was perhaps more likely to embarrass oneself than to go to Fyodor Pavlovich to ask a question that seemed very strange under the circumstances.But sometimes, especially in situations like the present.Those very shrewd and calm people tend to make such decisions, not to mention that Peter Ilyich was not a calm person at all at that time!He remembered all his life afterwards that an inescapable restlessness gradually took hold of him until it reached in him to the point of being painful, even against his will.Naturally, he still scolded himself for visiting the lady along the way, but "I'm going to do nothing, and never stop!" He said this sentence ten times through gritted teeth, and finally he completed his plan— —Done to the end.
It was exactly eleven o'clock when he entered Mrs. Hokhlakov's.He was soon let into the yard, but the man in charge of the yard could not answer his question exactly: whether the wife had gone to bed or had not gone to bed yet.He just said that he should be asleep by now. "Go upstairs and find someone to inform. If she is willing to receive you, she will; if not, she won't." Peter Ilyich went upstairs, and things were more difficult here. up.The servant didn't want to report, and finally called a maid to come out.Peter Ilyich politely, but very firmly, asked her to inform his wife that a local official, Perkhoggin, had a very important business to see, and if it was not so important, he would not bother. ——"You use these few words to inform her." He begged the maid.The maid left, and he waited in the front room.Mrs. Hohlakov herself was in the bedroom, though not asleep yet.She had been restless since Mitya's visit just now, and she already had a presentiment that she would have a migraine tonight, as she had always had in similar cases.She was very surprised after hearing the maid's report, but still angrily ordered no visitors, although the sudden visit of an unknown "local official" at such a time especially aroused her curiosity that a woman usually has.But this time Pyotr Ilyich was as stubborn as a mule: after hearing the reply of refusal to see no visitors, he was particularly determined to inform again and convey in "his own words" that he "has something very important to see, and if now If you don't receive him, your wife may regret it for life in the future." "I was as unstoppable as falling off a cliff." Later, he himself said so.The maid looked him up in surprise, and went to report again.Mrs. Hohlakova was shocked. She thought about it, asked him in detail about his appearance, and knew that he was a "very well-dressed and polite young man."We will now mention, in passing, that Peter Ilyich was a rather handsome young man, and he knew it himself.Mrs. Hohlakov decided to come out to see the visitor.She had put on her homely nightgown and slippers, but she had a black shawl over her shoulders. The "official" was invited into the drawing-room where Mitya had just been received.When the hostess came out to meet the guests, she showed a deeply suspicious look, and asked the guests directly without asking them to sit down:
"What's your business?"
"I take the liberty of intruding on you, madam, about Dmitry Fyodorovich Karamazov, whom we both know," began Perkhodin, but at the mention of the name the hostess' face Suddenly showed a very angry expression.She almost screamed and cut him off angrily.
"Isn't what I've suffered for this dreadful man enough, isn't it enough?" she cried frantically. "How dare you, sir, come to disturb a lady whom you do not know at such a time, and tell her about a man who was here just now, in this drawing-room, but three hours ago, and came to kill me. Man. He stomped out, and no one ever left a gentleman's house like he did. Please, sir, I will sue you, I will never forgive you, please get out of here at once... I am A mother, I am now... I... I..."
"Kill! Did he try to kill you too?"
"Has he killed someone already?" Mrs. Hohlakov asked hastily.
"Please listen to me, madam, half a minute is enough, and I can explain everything to you in two sentences." Perkhoggin replied simply. "At five o'clock this afternoon, Mr. Karamazov borrowed ten rubles from me like a friend. I am sure that he had no money at that time, but when he came to see me today at nine o'clock, he was holding a stack of ten rubles in his hand. Hundred ruble bills, about two or even three thousand rubles. His hands and face were covered with blood, and he himself seemed to be in a state of madness. I asked him: where did you get so much money? He replied in no uncertain terms that he had borrowed it from you before he left, and that you had given him a loan of three thousand rubles, as if to find a gold mine..."
Suddenly, Mrs. Hohlakov's face took on an expression of uncharacteristic pain and uneasiness.
"My God! He killed his old man!" she cried out, raising her hands and clapping lightly. "I didn't give him any money, I didn't give him any money at all! Oh, go, go! . . . Needless to say! Go to save the old man, go to see his father, go!"
"Excuse me, madam, did you really not lend him any money? Do you remember clearly that you did not lend him any money?"
"I didn't borrow it, I didn't borrow it! I turned him down because he didn't understand. He lost his temper and stomped out. He jumped at me and I dodged... And I'll tell you, because now I Don't want to hide it from you, he even spit on me, can you imagine? But why are we standing? Oh, sit down...I'm sorry, I...or you better go, go , you should go and rescue the unfortunate old man, and help him escape the terrible death!"
"What if he's already killed him?"
"Oh, my God! Yes! So what shall we do now? What do you think we shall do now?"
Then she made Pyotr Ilyich sit down, and sat down opposite him herself.Peter Ilyich told her briefly but quite clearly what had happened, at least what he had witnessed today, and how he had just gone to Fenya and informed her about the little brass pestle. information.All these details horrified the emotional lady, who cried out and put her hands over her eyes...
"Just think, I have foreseen all this! I have this gift: everything that I foresee will happen in the end. How many times, how many times I have seen this terrible person, and I have always thought in my heart: this Man is going to kill me one day. And now it happened... I mean, if he's not killing me now, but his own father, then maybe it's just because there's a visible figure of God His fingers protected me, and for this reason he was ashamed to kill me, because here, in this very place, I hung with my own hands an icon taken from the mummified body of the Great Martyr Varvara. On the neck... how close I was to death at that moment, because I went right up to him, right next to him, and he stretched out his neck for me to hang! Do you know, Pyotr Ilyich (sorry, You seem to have said your name was Peter Ilyich)... you know, I don't believe in miracles, but this icon and this apparent miracle I'm seeing now - it's shocking me, so I'm starting something now Believe it all. Have you heard about the elder Zosima?... But I don't know what I'm talking about now... You see, he spits at me with an icon around his neck... . . . only to spit, of course, without harming me, and then .
Peter Ilyich got up and said that he would now go straight to the Chief of Police and report everything to him, and that the Chief of Police would arrange what to do.
"Oh, he's a good man, a very good man, I know Mikhail Makarovitch. Of course he should be sought. You are very clever, Pyotr Ilyich, how thoughtful you are; you know how I would be Absolutely can't think of it!"
"I've known the Chief of Police quite well," said Peter Ilyich, still standing, evidently trying to get rid of the impatient lady as soon as possible, who would never give him a chance to say goodbye and go away.
"Listen to me, listen to me," she muttered, "you must come and tell me what you saw there, what you inquired about...and what you found...how to deal with him, judge Where did he go in exile. Please tell me, has the death penalty been abolished in Russia? You have to come anyway, even at three o'clock in the middle of the night, even at four o'clock, even at half past four... If I don't get up, you will Tell me to wake me up, push me up... Oh, my God, I can't sleep at all. Listen, I'll go with you myself, okay?"
"No, it may not be superfluous if you now write two or three lines in your own handwriting, just in case, that you have not lent money to Dmitri Fyodorovitch... Be prepared..."
"I will definitely write!" Mrs. Hohlakova threw herself happily at her desk. "Listen, I am amazed by you, and amazed by your tact and tact in the conduct of such matters... Are you locally employed? How glad I am to hear that you are locally employed..."
As she spoke, she hastily wrote the following lines on half a piece of letter paper:
"Take this note!" She turned quickly to Pyotr Ilyich. "Go, go save people, from your side, this is a great feat."
Then she crossed him three times.She ran out and walked him all the way to the lobby.
"How thankful I am! You won't believe how thankful I am now, because you came to see me first. How come we haven't met before? If I can receive you again in the dormitory, I will It would be a great honor. How happy I am to hear that you are serving locally...and you are so earnest and smart...but they should value you and they will get to know you eventually. If I can be of service then please You believe... oh, I love youth! I love youth. Youth—this is the cornerstone of our suffering Russia today, all her hope... Oh, go, go!"
But Peter Ilyich had run away, or she would not have let him go so soon.Still, Mrs. Hohlakov made a rather favorable impression on him, and even somewhat eased his anxiety at being involved in this most unpleasant incident.Everyone knows that people's tastes are often diverse. "She's not old at all," he thought cheerfully, "on the contrary, I'd almost take her for her daughter."
As for Madame Hohlakov herself, she was simply charmed by the young man. "How capable and meticulous such a modern young man is, and also has such a demeanor and appearance. Now everyone says that young people today can't do anything, but this is a counter-evidence to them" and so on.Therefore, this "terrible incident" was almost thrown out of the blue by her, and it was not until she lay down to sleep that she suddenly remembered that she had been "so close to death", so she sighed and said, "Oh, this is really terrible, terrible!" But she fell asleep immediately, and fell into a sweet dream.In fact, if the adventure I have just described between the young official and a widow who is not at all old had not later become the basis of the career of this conscientious and meticulous young man, I would not need to dwell on these insignificant details. Too much ink.In our little town people recall it with astonishment to this day, and we may want to say something about it when we close the long story about the brothers Karamazov.
Our chief of police Mikhail Makarovich Makarov, a retired lieutenant-colonel who became a civil servant of the seventh rank, was a widower and a good man.He has only been here for three years, but he has already won general favor, mainly because he is "good at uniting people."There were constant guests in his house, as if he could not live without them.There are always people eating at his house every day, even if there are only two or one guest, otherwise the table will not be set up for dinner.He often entertains guests under various guises, sometimes even under unexpected names.Although the dishes are not exquisite, they are very rich. The big scones are very delicious. The taste of the wine is not high, but the quantity wins.In the entrance room there is a pool table, which is quite decently furnished, and there is even a picture of a British racehorse with a black frame on the wall, which is known to be an indispensable decoration in a bachelor's pool room.Poker is played every night, even if there is only one table.The best men in our town often dance here with their wives and daughters.Although Mikhail Makarovich was widowed, he still lived a family life, as he was accompanied by a widowed daughter and two granddaughters.The two girls had grown up, finished their studies, were not ugly, and were lively. Although everyone knew that they would not have any dowry, the girls still attracted our upper-class youths to my grandfather's house.Mikhail Makarovitch was not very shrewd in business matters, but he was no worse than many others in conscientiousness.To put it bluntly, then he is a person with rather poor cultural accomplishment, and even his understanding of the scope of his authority is not clear, and he is somewhat arbitrary.It cannot be said that he has only a half-knowledge of some of the reforms being carried out by the present government, but his understanding is always wrong, sometimes very blatantly wrong, not because he is particularly incompetent, but because he is naturally lazy and always has no time to study. study in depth. "Gentlemen, I am more suitable to be a soldier, and I lack the training of a civilian." - This is his self-evaluation.Even with regard to the details of the serfdom reform, he seems to have not yet had a complete and precise concept. It can be said that he just unconsciously accumulated knowledge and gradually deepened his understanding in practical life year after year. Besides, he himself was a landlord. !Pyotr Ilyich was sure that he would meet some guests at Mikhail Makarovitch's house, though he did not know whom.It so happened that the prosecutor and the county doctor, Varwinski, were playing cards with the chief.Varvinsky was a young man who had just come to our county from Petersburg and was a top student at the Petersburg Medical School.Prosecutor (actually Deputy Prosecutor, but everyone calls him Prosecutor here) Ippolit Kirillovich is a very special person here, not very old, only thirty-five, but he can get infected. The symptoms of tuberculosis were very obvious, and he married a stout and barren wife; he was very conceited, easily angry, and although he had a lot of brains, he was kind-hearted.The faults of his character, it seemed, consisted entirely in his estimating himself a little more than his actual advantages could have done.This is what often unbalances his mind.In addition, he also expects to perform at the best and most perfect level, such as his psychoanalysis, his unique insights into the human mind, his special ability to analyze criminals and their crimes, and so on.In this sense, he felt that he had been somewhat wronged in his position and was not reused, and he always believed that his superiors failed to appreciate his talent, and someone was against him.When he was in a bad mood, he even threatened to become a criminal lawyer.The unexpected patricide case in the Karamazov family seemed to cheer him up: "Such a case may cause a sensation in the whole of Russia."
In the next room, with the ladies, was our young court investigator, Nikolai Parfenovich Neludov.He has only been in our town from Petersburg for two months.Afterwards we all talked about it here and were amazed: all these people seemed to have deliberately gathered at the house of the head of the law enforcement agency on the night of the "occupation", but in fact it was very simple and very natural: Ippoli Ter Kirillovich's wife had had a toothache for two days, and he needed a place to hide from her groans; the doctor couldn't really go anywhere at night except to play cards.And Nikolai Parfenovich had planned even three days before that night to feign accidental intrusion into Mikhail Makarovich's house and surreptitiously make his eldest granddaughter Olga Mikhail Hailovna was taken aback, for he knew her secret, that today was her birthday, and she had deliberately concealed her birthday from everyone, in order not to invite the whole town to dance.Then he would tell a lot of jokes, make all kinds of hints about her age, as if she was afraid of people knowing her age, and now he had her secret, which he would reveal to everyone tomorrow, and so on.This lovely young man was a master of teasing in this respect, and he seemed quite content with the nickname "Naughty" given to him by our wife here.He was, in fact, of a distinguished family, well-educated, good-natured, and, though he was gay, innocent and always courteous.In appearance he was short in stature and weak in constitution.On the slender and pale fingers, there are always a few shiny and particularly thick rings.When he was on official business, he became very dignified, and regarded his duties almost as sacred.In interrogating murderers or other villains among the common people he was especially good at raising difficult questions which, if not awe, at least aroused some surprise in them.
When Pyotr Ilyich entered the prefect's house, he was stupefied with astonishment: he suddenly saw that everyone seemed to know everything.Indeed, everyone had stopped playing and was standing there talking, and even Nikolai Parfenovitch had left the ladies and came running up with a fighting air for action.What Pyotr Ilyich encountered was the shocking news: old Fyodor Pavlovich had indeed been murdered in his home tonight, and had been robbed afterwards.I just found out about this incident, and it happened like this:
Marfa Ignatyevna, Grigory's wife who had been thrown down by the fence, was sleeping soundly in her bed, and she might have slept through the night, but suddenly woke up .The reason was that I heard Smerdyakov, who was lying unconscious in the next room, let out a terrible howl after having an epileptic seizure. The cry always terrified her, and it made her very sick to hear it.She couldn't stand the howling anyway.Sleepily, she got out of bed and rushed to Smerdyakov's hut in a daze.But it was pitch black, and the patient was gasping and shivering.At this moment Marfa Ignatyevna cried out herself, and was about to call her husband when she suddenly remembered that Grigory hadn't been in bed when she got up.She ran to the bed and touched the bed again, and it was indeed empty.So he's out.But where will it go?She ran to the steps and called him cautiously from there.Of course there was no answer, but in the stillness of the night she heard moans that seemed to come from the depths of the garden.She listened intently; the groan was repeated again and again, evidently coming from the garden. "My God, just like Lizaveta Smerdyakova back then!" the thought flashed through her turbulent mind.She walked timidly down the steps, and saw clearly that the little door leading to the garden was open. "By the way, my wife must be there." After thinking for a while, she walked to the small gate of the garden, and suddenly heard Grigory calling her clearly, calling her: "Marfa, Marfa!" His voice was thin, terrible, and painful. "God, please protect us from disaster," Marfa murmured, and immediately searched for it, and found Grigory.But not by the wall, where he had been struck down, was found, but twenty paces from the wall.It was later found out that after waking up, he crawled for a certain distance, probably for a long time, before losing consciousness again and again and falling into a coma.She immediately found him lying in a pool of blood, and immediately screamed desperately.And Grigory murmured softly and intermittently: "He killed a man... killed his father... What are you shouting, fool, call someone..." But Marfa Ignady Yevna, however, could not control herself, and kept shouting loudly, when suddenly she saw that the window of the master's room was open and there was a light in it, and she ran to it and began to call Fyodor Pavlovich.But looking out of the window, she beheld a dreadful sight: the master was lying on his back on the floor, motionless.The front of the light-colored nightgown and the white shirt were stained with blood.The candles on the table reflected the blood and the dead face of Fyodor Pavlovich very clearly.The frightened Marfa Ignatievna immediately left the window, ran out of the garden, unlatched the gate, and hurried to the back door of her neighbor Marya Kondratyevna's house.There were only mother and daughter in the neighbor's house, and they were already asleep at the time, but they were awakened by the sound of Marfa's frantic banging on the shutters and her loud cries, and they ran to the window at once.Marfa Ignatyevna yelled incoherently, but managed to explain the main thing and begged for their help.It just so happened that the homeless Foma stayed at their house that night.So he was called up immediately, and the three of them rushed to the scene of the crime together.Along the way Marya Kondratyevna recalled that at about eight o'clock she had heard a shrill and terrible cry resounding all around from the garden of her house--it was, of course, Grigory's cry. At that time, he was holding tightly with both hands to the foot of Dmitry Fyodorovich, who was already riding on the fence, and shouted "Paricide!" "There was a person howling just now, and then suddenly there was no sound," Maria Kondratyevna testified as she ran.Having reached the place where Grigory lay, two women, assisted by Foma, carried him into the wing.They lit the lamp and saw Smerdyakov still in his hut, still convulsing, with rolled eyes and foamy lips.They washed Grigory's head with water mixed with vinegar, and when he regained full consciousness he immediately asked: "Is the master dead?" Only then did the two women and Foma run to the master's house.Entering the garden, they saw not only the window open, but also the door leading from the house into the garden, which had been shut tightly by the master himself every day for a whole week since evening, and Not even Grigory would allow any reason to knock on his door.Seeing the open door, neither the women nor Foma dared to enter the master's room: "So as not to cause any trouble later on." When they returned, Grigory ordered them to go to the police chief at once.That was how Marya Kondratyevna came, and everyone in the police chief's house was alarmed.She arrived only five minutes earlier than Peter Ilyich, so what he brought was no longer some speculation and inference, he had become an eyewitness, and he further affirmed everyone's belief about the murderer with his more detailed account. Guessing (although, at the last minute before that, he still didn't believe that he was the murderer).
Everyone decided to take strong action.Immediately, the deputy police chief of the city was appointed to select four witnesses and follow all legal procedures (I will not go into details here) to conduct an on-site investigation at Fyodor Pavlovich's home.The county doctor, being a quick-tempered man and a newcomer, insisted on going with the chief of police, prosecutors and investigators.I would like to mention briefly: Fyodor Pavlovich was indeed killed and his head was blown off, but with what?Most likely it was the murder weapon that was later used to bring down Grigory.After hearing Grigory's account of his downfall, they also found the murder weapon.Grigory had received as much treatment as possible at that time, and although his voice was weak and his speech was broken, he spoke quite methodically.They searched beside the fence with their lamps, and found a brass pestle thrown in the most conspicuous place on the garden path.There was no sign of particular disorder in the room where Fyodor Pavlovich lay, but behind a screen, on the floor next to his bed, an envelope the size of an official letter was found made of thick paper. , which read: "Come here as you wish, that is, a small gift of 3,000 rubles to my angel Grushenka", and a few more words were added below, probably Fyodor Pavlovich himself later Added: "To the sweet chick".There were three large seals of sealant on the envelope, but the envelope had been torn and was empty: the money had been taken.Also found on the floor was a thin pink ribbon that tied the envelope.Prosecutors and investigators were particularly impressed by one circumstance mentioned in Peter Ilyich's testimony: it was estimated that Dmitry Fedorovich would commit suicide before dawn, it was himself He himself had told Peter Ilyich what he had decided, loaded the pistol in his presence, wrote the note, put it in his pocket, etc., etc.It is said that when Pyotr Ilyich refused to believe anything and threatened him to run and tell others in order to prevent him from committing suicide, Mitya answered him with a grin: "You are too late." Therefore, It was necessary to be on the scene in time, to Mokroyer, so that the criminal could be apprehended before he really tried to commit suicide. "It's obvious, it's obvious!" the prosecutor repeated with great excitement. "These desperadoes are indeed always like this: decide to commit suicide tomorrow, and spend a lot of time before dying." As for the fact that he bought wine and food in the small shop, it simply added fuel to the fire and made the prosecutor even more angry. excited. "Gentlemen, do you still remember the young man who killed the merchant Orsufiev, snatched fifteen hundred rubles and immediately went to have his hair curled, and then he didn't even pack the money, and he almost had it in his hand. I went to find the girl." But the investigation, the search of Fyodor Pavlovich's house, and various formalities delayed everyone.All this takes time, so the District Police Superintendent Maverick Mavrikievich Schmerdsoff, who came to town yesterday morning to collect his salary, was sent to Mokroye two hours earlier and He gave him instructions: after arriving in Mokroye, do not startle the enemy, and keep the "criminal" under close surveillance until the competent authorities arrive, and at the same time prepare witnesses, village police, etc.Mavericki did this one by one, keeping the secrets, only to Trifon Borisch, and his old friend revealed some of the secrets. He went to the boss who was looking for him, and already noticed a sudden change in Trifon Borisich's face and words.Therefore, neither Mitya nor anyone else knew that they were being watched; his pistol case had already been smuggled away by Trifon Borisch and hidden in a hidden place.It was not until after four o'clock in the morning, when it was almost dawn, that the chief of police, prosecutors and investigators arrived in two troikas.The county doctor stayed at Fyodor Pavlovich's house, because he planned to dissect the victim's body the next day, but he was most interested in the condition of the servant Smerdyakov: "In two days and nights间不断反复发作，如此剧烈、如此长久的癫痫症状实为少见，这有待于科学进一步研究。”他兴奋地对即将离开的同事们说，而他们则笑着祝贺他有了新的发现。同时检察官和侦查员记得十分清楚，医生用非常坚决的语气补充说，斯梅尔佳科夫活不到早晨了。
现在，经过冗长的，但看来是必不可少的说明以后，我们又回到了我们的故事在前一卷里打住的地方。
上卷讲到，米佳坐在那儿用奇怪的目光扫视在场的人，他不明白他们在对他说什么。突然他站了起来，双手高高扬起，大声喊道：“我没有罪！对这次流血事件我没有罪！我对我父亲的血没有罪……我曾经想杀他，但我没有罪！不是我干的！”
他刚喊出这几句话，格鲁申卡就从帘子后面冲了出来，一下子跪倒在警察局长面前。
“这是我，是我，我该死，我有罪！”她用撕心裂肺的声音喊叫着，泪流满面，两只手伸向大家，“他这是因为我才杀了人！……这是我在折磨他，才弄出事来的！我也折磨了那个已经死去的可怜的老人，因为我恨，才弄出事来了！我是有罪的人，我是第一个罪人，是主要的罪人，我是有罪的！”
“不错，你是有罪的！你是主犯！你是个泼妇，你是个放荡的女人，你是主要的罪人。”警察局长咆哮如雷，举手威吓她，但这时候大家迅速而又坚决地把他制止了。检察官甚至双手抱住了他。
“这样就全乱套了，米哈伊尔·马卡罗维奇。”他大声说，“您确实妨碍了侦查……把事情搞糟了……”他几乎喘不过气来。
“采取措施，采取措施，快采取措施！”尼古拉·帕尔费诺维奇也异常激动，“不然简直无法进行下去！……”
“一块儿审判我们俩吧！”格鲁申卡继续疯狂地大叫，一直跪在那里。“把我们俩一块儿绞死吧，现在就是判他死刑我也要跟他一起去死！”
“格鲁莎，我的生命，我的血，我的宝贝！”米佳也扑到她的身旁跪下，紧紧把她抱在怀里。“你们别信她。”他大声喊道，“她什么罪也没有，她与流血无关，与任何事都没有关系！”
他后来记得，几个人把他从她身旁强行拖开，她也立刻被带走了。当他清醒过来时已经坐在桌子旁边了。他左右两侧和身后都站着佩戴警牌的人。隔着桌子面对他坐在沙发上的是法庭侦查员尼古拉·帕尔费诺维奇，他一直在劝米佳喝点桌上的茶水：“这会使您头脑清醒，使您平静下来，您别怕，别慌张。”他非常客气地补充说。米佳记得，他突然对他手上两只粗大的戒指产生了极大的好奇心，一只是紫晶石的，另一只呈鹅黄色，晶莹剔透。后来过了好久他想起这件事还不胜惊讶，即使在可怕的审讯过程中两只戒指居然还牢牢地吸引了他的注意力，也不知是怎么回事，他始终无法移开自己的视线，而忘记那些跟他的处境完全不相称的东西。米佳的左侧，晚会开始时马克西莫夫坐着的地方，现在坐着检察官，米佳的右首，原来格鲁申卡坐过的那个位置上，现在坐着一个面色红润的年轻人，他穿一件相当陈旧的类似猎装的上衣，在他面前放着墨水瓶和纸张。原来这是侦查员带来的书记员。警察局长站在房间另一端的窗口旁边，紧挨着卡尔加诺夫。卡尔加诺夫就坐在那扇窗旁边的椅子上。
“喝口水吧！”侦查员已经是第十次这样温和地劝他。
“我喝过了，诸位，喝过了……但是……来吧，先生们，掐死我吧，绞死我吧，决定我的命运吧！”米佳大声喊着，可怕地瞪大了眼睛，直勾勾地瞅着侦查员。
“这么说来您绝对肯定您对令尊费奥多尔·巴夫洛维奇的死是无辜的？”侦查员温和而又坚定地问。
“我是无辜的！我对另一个人的血是有罪的，对另一个老人的血，而不是我父亲的血。现在我为他痛哭！我杀死了老人，我杀死了他，把他摔倒在地……可是如果因为我杀了人，所以也要对另外一件与我毫无关系的杀人案负责，那是非常痛苦的……这罪名太可怕了，先生们，简直是当头一棒！但到底是谁杀死了父亲？到底谁杀的呢？如果不是我，谁又能去杀他？真是怪事，不可思议，绝不可能的事！……”
“是啊，是谁去杀的呢……”侦查员刚要开始说，但检察官伊波利特·基里洛维奇（他是副检察官，但我们为了方便起见称他检察官）与侦查员交换了一下眼色，对米佳说：
“您不必为那老仆人格里戈里·瓦西里耶维奇担心。告诉您吧，他还活着，已经醒过来了，虽然根据他的证词和您的口供他遭到了您的毒打，但看来他活下来是不成问题的，至少医生是这样诊断的。”
“他还活着？那么他还活着！”米佳突然大声叫喊，惊讶得双手一拍。他满脸喜悦。“上帝啊，感谢你听了我的祈祷，为我这个罪人和坏蛋显现了伟大的奇迹！……是的，是的，是听到了我的祈祷，我祈祷了整整一夜！……”他连着画了三次十字，都快喘不过气来了。
“我们就是从格里戈里本人那里得到了有关您的十分重要的证词……”检察官刚要继续说下去，米佳突然从椅子上跳了起来。
“一分钟，先生们，看在上帝份上只要等一分钟，我去找她一下……”
“对不起！现在绝对不行！”尼古拉·帕尔费诺维奇差点没尖声大叫起来，他从椅子上跃身起立，米佳被几个胸前挂着小铜牌的人抱住了，不过米佳自己也已经坐到了椅子上……
“诸位，太遗憾了！我想到她那儿只呆一会儿……我要告诉她，整夜使我痛心的血洗干净了，不留痕迹，我已经不是杀人凶手了！先生们，她真的是我的未婚妻！”他突然以兴奋而敬慕的口吻说，一面环视着所有的人。“啊，我感谢你们，先生们！啊，你们使我获得新生，一下子使我复活了！……这位老人，先生们，当我三岁遭到遗弃的时候，是他疼我，照顾我，在水盆里给我洗澡，他是我的亲生父亲啊！……”
“这么说来，您……”侦查员开始说。
“等一等，诸位，请再等一分钟，”米佳打断说，他把两肘支在桌上，用手掌捂住了脸，“让我稍稍考虑一下，让我喘一口气，先生们。这一切太使人震惊了，简直可怕，人可不是鼓皮啊，诸位！”
“您还是再喝口水吧……”尼古拉·帕尔费诺维奇轻轻地说。
米佳把两只手从自己的脸上移开，接着便哈哈大笑。他的目光炯炯有神，他似乎一下子完全变成了另一个人。他的口气也完全变了：现在他坐在这里，跟在场的所有人，跟他原来的这些朋友又是平等的了，就像往日没出任何事情之前相聚在某个社交场合一样。不过我们要顺便说一下，米佳刚到我们城里的时候，在警察局长家曾经受到热诚款待，但后来，特别是最后的一个月，米佳几乎不去拜访他了，而警察局长有时在街上碰到他也总是皱起眉头，只是出于礼貌，才行礼致意，这种情况米佳显然是觉察到了。他与检察官的关系更加疏远些，但有时候却怀着最大的敬意前去拜访他的夫人，一位神经质而富于幻想的太太，甚至他自己也不完全明白为什么要去拜访她，而她则总是亲切地接待他，也不知是什么原因直到最近还关心他。他与侦查员还不熟悉，但也见过面，甚至还与他说过一两次话，谈的都是女人。
“尼古拉·帕尔费诺维奇，我看您是一位高明的侦查员，”米佳突然开心地大笑起来，“不过我现在亲自来帮助您。啊，先生们，我复活了……请不要因为我这样随便、这样直率地与你们讲话而责备我。再说我有点儿醉了，这一点我要坦白地告诉你们。我好像有幸……有幸见过您，尼古拉·帕尔费诺维奇，是在我的亲戚米乌索夫家里……先生们，先生们，我并不要求平等，我非常清楚，我现在是以什么身份坐在你们面前。你们对我……如果格里戈里只是提供了关于我的证词……那么你们对我……啊，你们肯定对我有了——很大的怀疑！真可怕！真可怕——我心里非常明白！不过我还是准备谈一谈这件事，先生们，我们现在一下子就可以把这件事说清楚，你们听着，你们听着，先生们。既然我知道自己是无罪的，当然一下子就可以了结这件事。是这样吗？是这样吗？”
米佳讲得又急又快，滔滔不绝，毫无保留，似乎真的把这几位听众当成了自己的密友了。
“好吧，我们暂时就这样记录：您坚决否认对您的指控。”尼古拉·帕尔费诺维奇煞有介事地说，然后转身对书记员悄声说明该记录哪些内容。
“记录？您想把这些话记录下来？好吧，记就记吧，我同意，我完全同意，诸位……不过嘛……请停一下，停一下，你们这样写吧：'他对目无法纪的行为负有罪责，对毒打可怜的老人负有罪责。'另外，对我自己来说，在我心里，在内心深处我感到自己是有罪的——不过这些都不用记，”他突然转身对书记说，“这已经是我的私生活，先生们，这与你们已经毫无关系，这是心灵深处的东西……但对我老父亲的死——我是没有罪的！这是毫无道理的想法！这完全是毫无道理的想法！……我可以向你们证明，你们马上也会相信的。你们自己会感到好笑的，先生们，你们会对你们的怀疑哈哈大笑！……”
“您别着急，德米特里·费奥多罗维奇。”侦查员提醒说，显然想以自己的冷静来制服这个狂人。“在继续审讯之前，如果您愿意回答，那我希望听到您能确认以下事实，那就是您似乎不喜欢已故的费奥多尔·巴夫洛维奇，与他经常发生争执……至少在这里，就在一刻钟之前，您似乎说过，您甚至想杀死他：您曾经大声说过：'我没有杀死他，但是想要杀死他的！'”
“我这样说过吗？哎哟，这是可能的，先生们！是的，不幸的是我曾想杀死他，好几次都想过要杀死他……真是不幸，真是不幸啊！”
“您想过。您能不能解释一下，究竟是什么原因使您对令尊这样仇恨呢？”
“有什么可解释的呢，先生们！”米佳愁眉苦脸地耸了耸肩，低下了头。“我可没有隐瞒自己的感情，全城的人都知道这一点——小酒店里的人也都知道。不久前在修道院佐西马长老的斋房里我还公开讲过——就在那天晚上我还打了父亲，差一点没把他打死，我还发誓说，我下次来就打死他，是当着众人的面说的——啊，可以找到上千个证人！我嚷嚷了一个月，谁都可以作证！……事实是明摆着的，事实本身可以说明，事实本身完全可以说明问题，但是感情，先生们，感情是另一码事了。先生们，”米佳皱起了眉头说，“我觉得，你们没有权利过问我的感情。你们虽然是执行公务，这我完全理解，但这是我的事，我的隐私，尽管……由于我以前也没有掩饰我的感情……譬如说，在小酒店里我对大家、对每个人都曾说过，那么……那么我现在也不再把它当做什么秘密。先生们，你们要知道我自己也明白这种情况构成了我的重大罪证：我以前对大家说过我要杀死他，现在他突然被杀害了：在这种情况下怎么会不是我干的呢？哈，哈！我谅解你们，先生们，完全谅解。我连自己都惊讶之极，因为在这种情况下，如果不是我杀的，那么究竟是谁杀的呢？是不是？如果不是我，那么是谁，究竟是谁呢？先生们，”他突然叫了起来，“我想知道，先生们：我甚至要求你们告诉我，他是在什么地方被杀害的？他是怎样被杀害的？用的什么凶器？请你们告诉我。”他急促地问，用目光打量着检察官和侦查员。
“我们发现他仰面躺在自己书房的地板上，头被打碎了。”检察官回答说。
“这真可怕，先生们！”米佳突然哆嗦一下，把臂肘支在桌子上，用右手捂住了脸。
“我们继续谈吧。”尼古拉·帕尔费诺维奇打断说。“那么，究竟是什么原因使您这样恨他呢？您好像公开声称是因为妒忌？”
“是的，是妒忌，不过也不仅仅是妒忌。”
“为了钱财而争吵？”
“是的，是为了钱。”
“好像有争议的是一笔三千卢布遗产，听说他没有付清。”
“岂止三千！多得多，多得多，”米佳气势汹汹地说，“超过六千，也许一万以上。我对大家都这样讲过，对大家嚷嚷过！但我决定只要三千就算了结，决不反悔。我急需这三千卢布……我知道他枕头底下的信封里藏有三千卢布，是准备给格鲁申卡的，我认为这笔钱简直是从我这儿偷去的，是的，先生们，我认为这是我的钱，等于是我的财产……”
检察官意味深长地与侦查员交换了眼色，还悄悄地向他眨了眨眼。
“这个问题我们回头再谈，”侦查员马上说道，“现在请允许我们指明并记下这一点，即您认为装在那只信封里的钱简直就等于是您自己的财产。”
“写下来吧，先生们，我也明白这又是我的一个罪证，但我不怕罪证，因此我自己揭露自己。你们听清楚了，是我自己！请注意，先生们，你们似乎把我当做了与我的实际情况完全不相符合的另一个人。”他突然忧郁地说，“现在和你们谈话的是一个高尚的人，一个非常高尚的人，主要的是——请你们不要忽视这一点——他做过许许多多卑鄙下流的事情，但无论以前还是现在始终是一个高尚的人，在内心、在心灵深处是个非常高尚的人，总之，我不会表达这个意思……我一辈子都感到痛苦的就是因为一方面我渴望高尚，可以说为高尚而受苦受难，在打着灯笼，打着第欧根尼的灯笼寻找高尚，另一方面却一辈子都在干着下流的勾当，就像我们大家一样，先生们……啊，不对，只是我一个人，先生们，不是大家，只是我，我说错了，我一个人，一个人！……先生们，我现在有点头疼，”他痛苦地皱起了眉头，“你们要知道，先生们，我不喜欢他的外貌，恬不知耻，自吹自擂，亵渎神明，嘲弄挖苦，没有信仰。真可恶，可恶极了！不过现在他已经死了，我对他的看法也变了。”
“怎么变了呢？”
“不是变了，而是我感到遗憾，我以前居然这样仇恨他。”
“您感到后悔吗？”
“不，不能说是后悔，这一点请不要记下来。我自己也并不好看，是的，我自己也不很漂亮，因此我没有权利认为他讨厌，就是这么一回事！这一点请记下来好了。”
米佳说完这些话，突然变得非常忧伤。自从开始回答侦查员的提问以来，他的神色逐渐地越来越忧郁了。恰巧这时候忽然又出现了一个出人意料的场面。事情是这样的：虽然格鲁申卡刚才被带走，但离得并不太远，与现在进行审讯的天蓝色房间相距不过一个房间。这是一个只有一扇窗户的小房间，紧挨着夜里跳舞和张筵飨客的大房间。她就坐在小间里，和她在一起的只有马克西莫夫一个人，他吓得要命，怕得要死，紧紧地挨着她，好像要求她保护似的。门口站着一个胸前佩带小铜牌的农民。格鲁申卡一直在哭，突然她克制不住内心的巨大悲痛，一下子跳了起来，双手一拍，高声哭喊着“我命苦啊，我命苦啊！”从房间里冲出来去找他，找她的米佳，事情来得非常突然，居然谁也来不及拦住她。米佳一听见她的哭叫声，便浑身打战，跃身而起，吼叫着，迎着她飞快冲过去，似乎丧失了理智。虽然他们已经互相可以看见对方，但还是没有能走到一起。他的手被紧紧抓住，他拼命挣扎，使劲挣脱，三四个人好不容易才把他拦住。她也被拦住，他看到她被带走时在哭喊着，向他伸出了双手。这个场面结束后，他又回到桌子旁边原来的地方，面对着侦查员，恢复了常态，并对他们不断叫喊：
“你们要把她怎么样？你们干吗要折磨她？她是无辜的，无辜的！……”
检察官和侦查员一直在劝他。就这样过了一段时间，约摸有十分钟；后来刚才离开了一会儿的米哈伊尔·马卡罗维奇又匆匆忙忙走了进来，他非常激动地对检察官大声说：
“她被带走了，现在在楼下。诸位，能否允许我对这个不幸的人讲一句话？就当着你们的面，先生们，当着你们的面！”
“请便吧，米哈伊尔·马卡罗维奇，”侦查员回答说，“目前情况下我们不会表示反对。”
“德米特里·费奥多罗维奇，你听我说，老弟，”米哈伊尔·马卡罗维奇开始对米佳说，他那神情激动的脸上流露出对这个不幸的人几乎慈父般的深切同情，“我亲自把你的阿格拉费娜·亚历山德罗芙娜领到楼下去了，并托付给了老板的女儿，现在那个小老头马克西莫夫和她待在一起，一步也不离开她，而且我也把她说服了。你听清楚没有？我说服了她，让她安静下来了，我告诉她你现在需要申辩，她不应干扰，不能引起你的烦恼，不然你会心慌意乱，提供对自己不利的供词，你懂吗？总而言之，我说了一番道理，她也懂了。老弟，她是个聪明人，她心肠好，还想要吻我这老头儿的手，是替你求情呐。她亲自派我来告诉你，要你对她放心，而且，亲爱的，一定要我跑回去对她说，你现在已经平静下来并对她放心了。因此，你别担心，你该理解这一点。我刚才对不住她。她是基督心肠，是的，先生们，这是一颗温柔的心，而且完全是清白的。那么该怎样对她说呢，德米特里·费奥多罗维奇？你能不能平静下来？”
这位好心人说了许多多余的话，但格鲁申卡的痛苦，人类的痛苦，却渗透进了他善良的心，甚至他的双眼都噙着泪水。米佳跳起身来，向他奔去。
“请原谅，先生们，让我说，啊，让我说！”他大声叫喊。“您有颗天使般的、天使般的心灵，米哈伊尔·马卡罗维奇，我替她感谢您！我一定，一定会平静下来，我会快活的，请您通过您那颗无比善良的心转告她，我现在很快活，非常快活，甚至开始笑了，因为我知道，有像您这样的守护天使和她在一起。我马上了结一切，只要我获得自由，我立刻去见她，她会见到我的，让她等着吧！先生们，”他突然对检察官和侦查员说，“现在我要向你们敞开我的心扉，把心里话都说出来，我们会很快了结这件事，高高兴兴地了结，最后我们真的会笑起来的。我们会笑吗？不过，先生们，这位女士是我心灵的女王！啊，请允许我这样说，这是我的心里话，非说不可……我确实看到，我是和最高尚的人在一起：她是光明，是我的宝贝，要是你们能理解这一点就好了！你们刚才不是都听见了她的话：'哪怕和你一起去上绞架我也心甘情愿！'而我又给了她什么呢？我是一个穷光蛋，一无所有，她为什么这样爱我？我这个笨拙的、可耻的、丢尽了脸面的坏蛋，值得她这样爱吗？能让她跟我一起去流放吗？她这个骄傲和清白无辜的女人刚才为了我居然跪下来向你们求情！我怎么能不爱她，怎么能不像刚才那样哭喊着扑到她面前呢？啊，先生们，对不起！但现在，现在我放心了！”
说着他倒在椅子上，双手捂住了脸，号啕痛哭起来。但这已经是幸福的泪水了。他很快就控制住了自己。上了年纪的警察局长非常满意，法官也很满意：他们感到审讯马上会进入一个新的阶段。米佳目送着警察局长出去以后，真的变得高兴起来了。
“好吧，先生们，现在我听你们的，完全听你们的。而且……要不是刚才纠缠那些琐碎的事情，那么我们一下子就可以达成一致了。我又提这些琐事了。我听从你们的吩咐，先生们，但是说实在的，这需要互相信任——你们信任我，我信任你们——不然我们永远不能了结。我这样说都是为了你们好。谈正事吧，先生们，来谈正事，最主要的是你们别去挖掘我的内心世界，别用鸡毛蒜皮的小事去折磨它，请你们问正事和事实，我马上会使你们满意的。让琐碎的小事见鬼去吧！”
米佳这样大声说着。审讯又开始了。
“您不会相信，德米特里·费奥多罗维奇，您的这一承诺使我们受到多大的鼓舞……”尼古拉·帕尔费诺维奇摘下眼镜，兴高采烈地说。他那双又大又深度近视的浅灰色金鱼眼流露出明显的满意神色。“您刚才指出我们应互相信任是很正确的，在这种重大的事情上，如果怀疑对象愿意、希望而且能够证明自己无罪，那么缺少相互信任往往是无法办到的。从我们方面来说，我们将尽力而为，甚至现在您自己已经可以看到，我们是如何处理这件案子的……您赞成吗，伊波利特·基里洛维奇？”他突然对检察官说。
“噢，毫无疑问。”检察官表示赞同，虽然与尼古拉·帕尔费诺维奇的热情相比显得有点冷淡。
有个情况我要说清楚：新来我们这里的尼古拉·帕尔费诺维奇到我们城里就任之初便对我们的检察官伊波利特·基里洛维奇怀有一种异乎寻常的尊敬，跟他十分投机。唯独他才坚信我们这位“怀才不遇”的伊波利特·基里洛维奇具有非凡的心理分析和雄辩的才能，也完全相信他是受了委屈。他早在彼得堡的时候就听到了有关他的传闻。而年纪轻轻的尼古拉·帕尔费诺维奇则是我们这位“怀才不遇”的检察官在这世界上唯一的知音。他们俩在来此地的路上对即将审理的案子达成了某些共识和默契，因此现在审问的时候，思维敏捷的尼古拉·帕尔费诺维奇对这位老前辈的只言片语、一个眼神或一个眼色都能心领神会，理解他的任何指示和他脸上的任何表情。
“先生们，请让我自己来说，不要用鸡毛蒜皮的琐事打岔，我一下子就可以向你们全讲出来。”米佳激动地说。
“太好了。谢谢您。但在听取您的陈述之前，请允许我再确认一个对我们来说十分有意思的事实，那就是您在昨天五点钟左右，以您的手枪作为抵押，向您的朋友彼得·伊里奇·佩尔霍金借了十个卢布。”
“抵押了，先生们，押了十个卢布。这又有什么呢？我外出回来到城里就去抵押了，就是这样。”
“您外出了？您到城外去了？”
“去了，先生们，我到城外四十多俄里的地方去了一次，你们不知道吗？”
检察官和尼古拉·帕尔费诺维奇交换了一个眼色。
“总之，您最好能把您昨天从早上开始一整天的活动系统地说一说，行吗？譬如说，请您讲讲：为什么您要离开县城，什么时候离开，什么时候回来……以及诸如此类的事实……”
“你们一开始就应该这样问了。”米佳哈哈大笑，“要是你们愿意，那么不是从昨天开始讲起，而是应从前天的清晨开始，只有这样你们才会理解，我上哪儿去了，怎样去的、目的是什么等等。先生们，前天早上我上本地商人萨姆索诺夫家去向他借三千卢布，有最可靠的抵押做担保，我急需这笔钱，先生们，我急需这笔钱。”
“对不起，打断您一下，”检察官客气地打断他说，“为什么您突然急需这笔钱，又恰恰是这样一个数目，即三千卢布？”
“唉，先生们，用不着谈这些小事：怎样，什么时候，为什么，为什么恰好是这个数目，而不是那个数目，以及此类毫无意义的说明……真要是这样的话，三本书也写不完，还要加上一个尾声呢！”
米佳满心好意想道出全部实情，因此用一种十分随便却又不太耐烦的口气讲出了这一番话。
“先生们，”他似乎突然醒悟了，“请你们别怪我固执，我再次请求：请你们再相信一次，我十分尊敬你们并完全理解目前的处境。请别以为我喝醉了。我现在已经清醒了。就是喝醉了也不碍事。我这个人就是这样：
酒醒后变得聪明了——其实变得愚蠢了。
喝醉后变得愚蠢了——其实变得聪明了。
哈，哈！不过我知道，先生们，在事情没搞清楚之前，我在你们面前说俏皮话是不合适的。请允许我也保持个人的尊严。我明白眼下的差异：我在你们面前终究是一个案犯，因此，你我之间有很大差别，而你们是奉命监督我的：你们决不会因为格里戈里的事而夸奖我，打破了老人的头而不受惩罚是不可能的，为此你们会依法送我进监狱，蹲上一年半载，我不知道你们会怎样判，总不至于剥夺公民权，不会剥夺公民权吧，检察官？你们瞧，先生们，我是明白这种差别的……不过你们也得承认，如果你们问：这一步在哪儿跨出去的？怎样跨法？什么时候跨的？跨到哪儿去？那么这些问题可能会把上帝也弄得稀里糊涂。要是这样，我就会糊涂的，而你们也糊里糊涂地记下来，那会有什么结果呢？什么结果也不会有！如果我现在开始胡说八道，那么也得让我说完，而你们，先生们，作为有教养和高尚的人，也会原谅我的。现在我提出最后一个请求：请你们别搞这一套官僚形式的审讯吧，就是开始纠缠一些鸡毛蒜皮、微不足道的事情，诸如怎样起床的，吃了什么，怎样吐了一口唾沫等等，'麻痹案犯的注意力'，出其不意地用一个吓人的问题使他就范：'你杀了谁，抢了谁？ '哈，哈！这就是你们那一套老办法，这是你们的老规矩，就是你们耍的全套鬼把戏！不过你们耍的这种把戏只能麻痹乡巴佬，对我可没有用。我懂得这一套，我自己也当过差，哈，哈，哈！请别生气，先生们，能原谅我的鲁莽吗？ ”他大声说，用一种几乎是令人惊讶的憨厚表情看着他们。“这是米坚卡·卡拉马佐夫讲的，因而可以原谅，因为对聪明人是不能原谅的，而米坚卡是可以原谅的！哈，哈！ "
尼古拉·帕尔费诺维奇听着也笑了。检察官虽然没有笑，却目不转睛地，警觉地打量着米佳，似乎不愿漏掉他说的每句话、任何一个细小动作，以及脸上任何细小的表情。
“不过我们一开始也没有这样问你呀，”尼古拉·帕尔费诺维奇笑着回答说，“我们没有用这类问题为难您：诸如早上是如何起床的，吃了什么等等，我们从一开始就问您一些十分重要的问题。”
“我懂，我早就明白并十分珍惜，但我现在更珍惜你们目前对我的无比好意，这种好意说明你们的心灵是十分高尚的。现在我们三个高尚的人碰到一起来了，那就让我们把一切都建立在由高贵的门第和名誉联结起来的有教养的上流社会人士间互相信任的基础上吧。总之，请允许我在我一生中的这个时候，在我的名誉蒙受耻辱的时刻，把你们当做我的最好的朋友！对此你们不会觉得难堪吧，先生们，不会难堪吧？”
“相反，您说得太好了，德米特里·费奥多罗维奇。”尼古拉·帕尔费诺维奇一本正经赞许说。
“至于那些鸡毛蒜皮的小事情，先生们，让那些吹毛求疵的琐碎问题统统见鬼去吧。”米佳兴高采烈地大声喊道，“不然的话，鬼知道会闹出什么结果，难道不是这样吗？”
“我完全赞同您的明智的建议，”检察官突然插进来对米佳说，“不过我还是想问您一个问题。这问题对我们来说实在太重要了，我们必须了解您需要这笔款子干什么，恰好又是三千卢布？”
“干什么？要干这干那……嗯，要还债呗。”
“还给谁？”
“我坚决拒绝回答这个问题，先生们！你们要知道，并非我不能说，或者是不敢说，或者我害怕说，因为这完全是无足轻重、微不足道的琐事，我不愿说，这里还涉及一个原则：这是我的私生活，而我不允许我的私生活受干预。这就是我的原则。您的问题与案件无关，而与案件无关的一切都是我的私生活！我想还债，我想还清名誉上的债，至于还给谁——我不能说。”
“请允许我们把这些话记下来。”检察官说。
“请吧。就这样写：我不说，坚决不说。先生们，还要写上：我甚至认为讲出来是不名誉的。咳，反正你们有的是时间！”
“尊敬的先生，如果您只是不明白的话，我不能不警告您并再次提醒您，”检察官用一种非常严肃的口吻特别强调说，“您完全有权利不回答现在向您提出的问题，而我们也无权强迫您回答，要是您本人由于某种原因回避回答的话。这属于您个人考虑的范围。不过我们的责任在于：在类似目前的场合下提醒您注意并向您说明由于您拒绝提供证词将给自己造成危害的严重程度。请继续谈吧。”
“先生，我可没有生气呀……我……”米佳嗫嚅