Page 792 - the-brothers-karamazov

and smiled gloomily and malignantly. He was feeling more
and more ashamed at having told ‘such people’ the story of
his jealousy so sincerely and spontaneously.
‘Bother the pestle!’ broke from him suddenly.
‘But still-.’
‘Oh, to keep off dogs... Oh, because it was dark.... In case
anything turned up.’
‘But have you ever on previous occasions taken a weap-
on with you when you went out, since you’re afraid of the
dark?’
‘Ugh! damn it all, gentlemen! There’s positively no talk-
ing to you!’ cried Mitya, exasperated beyond endurance,
and turning to the secretary, crimson with anger, he said
quickly, with a note of fury in his voice:
‘Write down at once... at once... ‘that I snatched up the
pestle to go and kill my father... Fyodor Pavlovitch... by hit-
ting him on the head with it!’ Well, now are you satisfied,
gentlemen? Are your minds relieved?’ he said, glaring defi-
antly at the lawyers.
‘We quite understand that you made that statement just
now through exasperation with us and the questions we put
to you, which you consider trivial, though they are, in fact,
essential,’ the prosecutor remarked drily in reply.
‘Well, upon my word, gentlemen! Yes, I took the pestle....
What does one pick things up for at such moments? I don’t
know what for. I snatched it up and ran — that’s all. For
to me, gentlemen, passons, or I declare I won’t tell you any
more.’
He sat with his elbows on the table and his head in his

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