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three thousand from him and fling it to you. Though I’ve
been a scoundrel to you, I am not a thief! You can expect
three thousand. The cur keeps it under his mattress, in pink
ribbon. I am not a thief, but I’ll murder my thief. Katya,
don’t look disdainful. Dmitri is not a thief! but a murderer!
He has murdered his father and ruined himself to hold his
ground, rather than endure your pride. And he doesn’t love
you.
P.P.S. — I kiss your feet, farewel!
P.P.P.S. — Katya, pray to God that someone’ll give me
the money. Then I shall not be steeped in gore, and if no one
does — I shall! Kill me!
Your slave and enemy,
D. KARAMAZOV
When Ivan read this ‘document’ he was convinced. So
then it was his brother, not Smerdyakov. And if not Smerdya-
kov, then not he, Ivan. This letter at once assumed in his
eyes the aspect of a logical proof. There could be no lon-
ger the slightest doubt of Mitya’s guilt. The suspicion never
occurred to Ivan, by the way, that Mitya might have com-
mitted the murder in conjunction with Smerdyakov, and,
indeed, such a theory did not fit in with the facts. Ivan was
completely reassured. The next morning he only thought of
Smerdyakov and his gibes with contempt. A few days later
he positively wondered how he could have been so horribly
distressed at his suspicions. He resolved to dismiss him with
contempt and forget him. So passed a month. He made no
further inquiry about Smerdyakov, but twice he happened
to hear that he was very ill and out of his mind.

10 The Brothers Karamazov