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‘and you say it because you are ill and delirious, tormenting
yourself.’
‘No, he knows what he says. ‘You are going from pride,’
he says. ‘You’ll stand up and say it was I killed him, and
why do you writhe with horror? You are lying! I despise
your opinion, I despise your horror!’ He said that about me.
‘And do you know you are longing for their praise — ‘he is a
criminal, a murderer, but what a generous soul; he wanted
to save his brother and he confessed.’ That’s a lie Alyosha!’
Ivan cried suddenly, with flashing eyes. ‘I don’t want the low
rabble to praise me, I swear I don’t! That’s a lie! That’s why I
threw the glass at him and it broke against his ugly face.’
‘Brother, calm yourself, stop!’ Alyosha entreated him.
‘Yes, he knows how to torment one. He’s cruel,’ Ivan went
on, unheeding. ‘I had an inkling from the first what he
came for. ‘Granting that you go through pride, still you had
a hope that Smerdyakov might be convicted and sent to Si-
beria, and Mitya would be acquitted, while you would only
be punished, with moral condemnation’ (’Do you hear?’ he
laughed then) — ‘and some people will praise you. But now
Smerdyakov’s dead, he has hanged himself, and who’ll be-
lieve you alone? But yet you are going, you are going, you’ll
go all the same, you’ve decided to go. What are you going
for now?’ That’s awful, Alyosha. I can’t endure such ques-
tions. Who dare ask me such questions?’
‘Brother,’ interposed Alyosha — his heart sank with
terror, but he still seemed to hope to bring Ivan to reason
— ‘how could he have told you of Smerdyakov’s death before
I came, when no one knew of it and there was no time for

110 The Brothers Karamazov