The Brothers Karamazov

“Listen, you wretched, despicable man! Do you understand that if I haven’t killed you so far, it’s only because I’m keeping you to answer in court tomorrow. God knows,” Ivan held up his hand, “perhaps I, too, was guilty, perhaps I really had a secret desire that my father ... die, but I swear to you that I was not as guilty as you think, and perhaps I did not put you up to it at all. No, no, I did not! But, anyway, I shall give evidence against myself tomorrow, in court, I’ve decided! I shall tell everything, everything. But we shall appear together! And whatever you say against me in court, whatever evidence you give—I accept, and I am not afraid of you; I myself shall confirm it all! But you, too, must confess to the court! You must, you must, we shall go together! So it will be!”

Ivan said this solemnly and energetically, and one could tell just from his flashing eyes that it would be so.

“You’re sick, I see, sir, you’re very sick, sir. Your eyes, sir, are quite yellow,” Smerdyakov said, but without any mockery, even as if with condolence.

“We shall go together!” Ivan repeated, “and if you won’t go, I alone shall confess anyway.”

Smerdyakov was silent for a while, as if he were pondering.

“None of that will be, sir, and you will not go, sir,” he finally decided categorically.

“You don’t know me!” Ivan exclaimed reproachfully. “It will be too shameful for you, sir, if you confess everything about yourself. And moreover it will be useless, quite useless, sir, because I will certainly say right out that I never told you any such thing, sir, and that you’re either in some sort of sickness (and it does look that way, sir), or else you really pitied your brother so much that you were sacrificing yourself, and you invented all that against me since you’ve considered me like a fly all your life anyway, and not like a man. And who will believe you, and what evidence, what single piece of evidence have you got?”

“Listen, you showed me that money, of course, in order to convince me.”

Smerdyakov removed Isaac the Syrian from the money and set it aside.

“Take the money with you, sir, take it away,” Smerdyakov sighed.

“Of course I shall take it away! But why are you giving it back to me, if you killed because of it?” Ivan looked at him in great surprise.

“I’ve got no use at all for it, sir,” Smerdyakov said in a trembling voice, waving his hand. “There was such a former thought, sir, that I could begin a life on such money in Moscow, or even more so abroad, I did have such a dream, sir, and even more so as ‘everything is permitted.’ It was true what you taught me, sir, because you told me a lot about that then: because if there’s no infinite God, then there’s no virtue either, and no need of it at all. It was true. That’s how I reasoned.”

“Did you figure it out for yourself?” Ivan grinned crookedly.

“With your guidance, sir.”

“So now you’ve come to believe in God, since you’re giving back the money?”

“No, sir, I haven’t come to believe, sir,” whispered Smerdyakov.

“Why are you giving it back then?”

“Enough ... it’s no use, sir!” Smerdyakov again waved his hand. “You yourself kept saying then that everything was permitted, so why are you so troubled now, you yourself, sir? You even want to go and give evidence against yourself ... Only there will be nothing of the sort! You won’t go and give evidence!” Smerdyakov decided again, firmly and with conviction.

“You’ll see!” said Ivan.

“It can’t be. You’re too intelligent, sir. You love money, that I know, sir, you also love respect, because you’re very proud, you love women’s charms exceedingly, and most of all you love living in peaceful prosperity, without bowing to anyone—that you love most of all, sir. You won’t want to ruin your life forever by taking such shame upon yourself in court. You’re like Fyodor Pavlovich most of all, it’s you of all his children who came out resembling him most, having the same soul as him, sir.”

“You’re not stupid,” Ivan said as if struck; the blood rushed to his face. “I used to think you were stupid. You’re serious now!” he remarked, suddenly looking at Smerdyakov in some new way.

“It was your pride made you think I was stupid. Do have the money, sir.”

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

“I’ll show them to the court tomorrow,” he said.

“No one there will believe you, sir, seeing as you’ve got enough money of your own, now, so you just took it out of your box and brought it, sir.”

Ivan rose from his seat.

“I repeat to you, that if I haven’t killed you, it’s only because I need you for tomorrow, remember that, don’t forget it!”

“Well, so kill me, sir. Kill me now,” Smerdyakov suddenly said strangely, looking strangely at Ivan. “You won’t dare do that either, sir,” he added, with a bitter smirk, “you won’t dare do anything, you former brave man, sir!”

“Until tomorrow!” Ivan cried, and made a move to go.

“Wait ... show it to me one more time.”