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science! He tormented himself with his conscience! He told
me everything, everything! He came every day and talked
to me as his only friend. I have the honour to be his only
friend!’ she cried suddenly with a sort of defiance, and her
eyes flashed. ‘He had been twice to see Smerdyakov. One
day he came to me and said, ‘If it was not my brother, but
Smerdyakov committed the murder’ (for the legend was
circulating everywhere that Smerdyakov had done it), ‘per-
haps I too am guilty, for Smerdyakov knew I didn’t like my
father and perhaps believed that I desired my father’s death.’
Then I brought out that letter and showed it him. He was
entirely convinced that his brother had done it, and he was
overwhelmed by it. He couldn’t endure the thought that his
own brother was a parricide! Only a week ago I saw that it
was making him ill. During the last few days he has talk-
ed incoherently in my presence. I saw his mind was giving
way. He walked about, raving; he was seen muttering in the
streets. The doctor from Moscow, at my request, examined
him the day before yesterday and told me that he was on the
eve of brain fever — and all on his account, on account of
this monster! And last night he learnt that Smerdyakov was
dead! It was such a shock that it drove him out of his mind...
and all through this monster, all for the sake of saving the
monster!’
Oh, of course, such an outpouring, such an avowal is
only possible once in a lifetime — at the hour of death, for
instance, on the way to the scaffold! But it was in Katya’s
character, and it was such a moment in her life. It was the
same impetuous Katya who had thrown herself on the mer-

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