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feel that he has infinite life still before him. The houses re-
cede, the cart moves on — oh, that’s nothing, it’s still far to
the turning into the second street and he still looks boldly
to right and to left at those thousands of callously curious
people with their eyes fixed on him, and he still fancies that
he is just such a man as they. But now the turning comes
to the next street. Oh, that’s nothing, nothing, there’s still
a whole street before him, and however many houses have
been passed, he will still think there are many left. And so
to the very end, to the very scaffold.
‘This I imagine is how it was with Karamazov then.
‘They’ve not had time yet,’ he must have thought, ‘I may still
find some way out, oh, there’s still time to make some plan
of defence, and now, now — she is so fascinating!’
‘His soul was full of confusion and dread, but he man-
aged, however, to put aside half his money and hide it
somewhere — I cannot otherwise explain the disappear-
ance of quite half of the three thousand he had just taken
from his father’s pillow. He had been in Mokroe more than
once before, he had caroused there for two days together
already, he knew the old big house with all its passages and
outbuildings. I imagine that part of the money was hidden
in that house, not long before the arrest, in some crevice,
under some floor, in some corner, under the roof. With
what object? I shall be asked. Why, the catastrophe may take
place at once, of course; he hadn’t yet considered how to
meet it, he hadn’t the time, his head was throbbing and his
heart was with her, but money — money was indispensable
in any case! With money a man is always a man. Perhaps

1 1 The Brothers Karamazov