Page 820 - the-brothers-karamazov

night, and at this moment, sitting with you, could I have
talked like this, could I have moved like this, could I have
looked at you and at the world like this, if I had really been
the murderer of my father, when the very thought of hav-
ing accidentally killed Grigory gave me no peace all night
— not from fear — oh, not simply from fear of your pun-
ishment! The disgrace of it! And you expect me to be open
with such scoffers as you, who see nothing and believe in
nothing, blind moles and scoffers, and to tell you another
nasty thing I’ve done, another disgrace, even if that would
save me from your accusation! No, better Siberia! The man
who opened the door to my father and went in at that door,
he killed him, he robbed him. Who was he? I’m racking my
brains and can’t think who. But I can tell you it was not
Dmitri Karamazov, and that’s all I can tell you, and that’s
enough, enough, leave me alone.... Exile me, punish me, but
don’t bother me any more. I’ll say no more. Call your wit-
nesses!’
Mitya uttered his sudden monologue as though he were
determined to be absolutely silent for the future. The pros-
ecutor watched him the whole time and only when he had
ceased speaking, observed, as though it were the most ordi-
nary thing, with the most frigid and composed air:
‘Oh, about the open door of which you spoke just now, we
may as well inform you, by the way, now, of a very interest-
ing piece of evidence of the greatest importance both to you
and to us, that has been given us by Grigory, the old man
you wounded. On his recovery, he clearly and emphatically
stated, in reply to our questions, that when, on coming out

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