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not the first to speak. He remained dumb, and did not even
look much interested.
‘Can you. talk to me?’ asked Ivan. ‘I won’t tire you
much.’
‘Certainly I can,’ mumbled Smerdyakov, in a faint voice.
‘Has your honour been back long?’ he added patronisingly,
as though encouraging a nervous visitor.
‘I only arrived to-day.... To see the mess you are in here.’
Smerdyakov sighed.
‘Why do you sigh? You knew of it all along,’ Ivan blurted
out.
Smerdyakov was stolidly silent for a while.
‘How could I help knowing? It was clear beforehand. But
how could I tell it would turn out like that?’
‘What would turn out? Don’t prevaricate! You’ve foretold
you’d have a fit; on the way down to the cellar, you know.
You mentioned the very spot.’
‘Have you said so at the examination yet?’ Smerdyakov
queried with composure.
Ivan felt suddenly angry.
‘No, I haven’t yet, but I certainly shall. You must explain
a great deal to me, my man; and let me tell you, I am not go-
ing to let you play with me!’
‘Why should I play with you, when I put my whole trust
in you, as in God Almighty?’ said Smerdyakov, with the
same composure, only for a moment closing his eyes.
‘In the first place,’ began Ivan, ‘I know that epileptic fits
can’t be told beforehand. I’ve inquired; don’t try and take
me in. You can’t foretell the day and the hour. How was it

10 0 The Brothers Karamazov