Текст книги "The Brothers Karamazov"
Автор книги: Федор Достоевский
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But then Fetyukovich began his questioning. He asked precisely when it was that the defendant had told him, Alyosha, of his hatred for their father, and of being capable of killing him, whether he had said it, for example, at their last meeting before the catastrophe, and as Alyosha was answering, he suddenly seemed to jump, as if he had just then recalled and understood something:
“I now recall one circumstance I had quite forgotten; it was not at all clear to me then, but now ...”
And Alyosha excitedly recalled, obviously having just suddenly hit upon the idea himself, how during his last meeting with Mitya, in the evening, by the tree, on the road to the monastery, Mitya, hitting himself on the chest, “on the upper part of the chest,” repeated to him several times that he had a means of restoring his honor, and that this means was there, right there, on his chest ... “At the time I thought, when he hit himself on the chest, that he was speaking of his heart,” Alyosha went on, “that in his heart he might find the strength to escape some terrible disgrace that lay ahead of him, and that he did not dare confess even to me. I admit that right then I thought precisely that he was speaking of father, and that he was shuddering as if from shame at the thought of going to father and doing some violence to him, and yet precisely then he seemed to point at something on his chest, so that I remember precisely then some thought flashed through me that the heart isn’t in that part of the chest at all, but lower down, while he was hitting himself much higher, here, right under his neck, and indicating that place. My thought seemed stupid to me then, but perhaps precisely then he was pointing to that amulet with the fifteen hundred roubles sewn up in it. . .!”
“Precisely!” Mitya suddenly shouted from his place. “It’s true, Alyosha, true, I was pounding on it with my fist!”
Fetyukovich rushed to him in a flurry, begging him to calm down, and at the same time simply fastened on to Alyosha. Alyosha, carried away himself by his recollection, ardently voiced his supposition that the disgrace most likely lay precisely in the fact that, while he had these fifteen hundred roubles on him, which he could return to Katerina Ivanovna as half of what he owed her, he had nonetheless decided not to give her this half but to use it for something else—that is, to take Grushenka away, if she were willing . . .
“That’s it, that’s precisely it,” Alyosha kept exclaiming in sudden agitation, “my brother precisely kept exclaiming to me then that he could remove half, half of the disgrace from himself at once (several times he said half! ), but was so unfortunate in the weakness of his character that he would not do it ... he knew beforehand that he could not, that he was not strong enough to do it!”
“And you firmly, clearly remember that he hit himself precisely in that place on his chest?” Fetyukovich questioned him greedily.
“Clearly and firmly, because I precisely thought then: why is he hitting himself up there, when the heart is lower down, and the thought immediately struck me as stupid ... I remember that it struck me as stupid ... it flashed through my mind. That’s why I remembered it just now. And how could I have forgotten it all this time! He was pointing precisely to the amulet, showing that he had the means but that he would not return the fifteen hundred! And at his arrest in Mokroye he precisely cried out—I know this, I was told– that he considered it the most shameful thing in all his life that, having the means to pay back half (precisely half! ) of his debt to Katerina Ivanovna and not be a thief to her, he still could not decide to do it, and preferred to remain a thief in her eyes rather than part with the money! And how he suffered, how he suffered over that debt!” Alyosha exclaimed in conclusion.
Naturally, the prosecutor also intervened. He asked Alyosha to describe it all once more, and insisted on asking several times whether the defendant, as he beat himself on the chest, in fact seemed to be pointing at something. Perhaps he was simply beating himself on the chest with his fist?
“No, not with his fist!”exclaimed Alyosha. “He was precisely pointing with his finger, and pointing here, very high ... But how could I have forgotten it so completely till this very moment!”
The presiding judge turned to Mitya and asked what he had to say regarding the present testimony. Mitya confirmed that it had all happened precisely that way, that he had precisely been pointing at the fifteen hundred roubles that were on his chest, just below the neck, and that, of course, it was a disgrace, “a disgrace I do not repudiate, the most disgraceful act of my whole life!” Mitya cried out. “I could have returned it and I did not return it. I preferred better to remain a thief in her eyes, and did not return it, and the chief disgrace was that I knew beforehand that I wasn’t going to return it! Alyosha is right! Thank you, Alyosha!”
With that the questioning of Alyosha ended. What was important and characteristic was precisely the circumstance that at least one fact had been found, at least one, shall we say, very small proof, almost just the hint of a proof, that nonetheless gave at least a drop of evidence that the amulet had actually existed, that it had contained the fifteen hundred, and that the defendant had not been lying at the preliminary investigation in Mokroye when he declared that the fifteen hundred “was mine.” Alyosha was glad; all flushed, he proceeded to the place pointed out to him. He kept repeating to himself for a long time: “How did I forget! How could I forget! And how did I suddenly recall it only now!”
The questioning of Katerina Ivanovna began. The moment she appeared, something extraordinary swept through the courtroom. The ladies snatched up their lorgnettes and opera-glasses, the men began to stir, some stood in order to get a better view. Everyone asserted afterwards that Mitya suddenly went “white as a sheet” the moment she came in. All in black, she modestly and almost timidly approached the place pointed out to her. It was impossible to tell from her face if she was excited, but there was a gleam of resolution in her dark, gloomy eyes. Afterwards, it should be noted, a great many people declared that she was remarkably good-looking at that moment. She spoke softly but clearly, so that she could be heard throughout the courtroom. She expressed herself with extreme calmness, or at least with an effort to be calm. The presiding judge began his questions cautiously, with extreme respect, as though fearing to touch “certain strings” and deferring to great misfortune. But Katerina Ivanovna herself, from the very first words, declared firmly to one of the questions put to her that she had been engaged to be married to the defendant, “before he himself left me ... ,” she added softly. When asked about the three thousand roubles entrusted to Mitya to be sent by mail to her relations, she said firmly: “I did not give it to him to be mailed straight away; I sensed at the time that he very much needed money ... that minute ... I gave him the three thousand roubles on condition that he send it, if he would, within a month. There was no need for him to torment himself so much afterwards because of this debt ...” I am not repeating all the questions and all her answers exactly, I am only giving the basic sense of her testimony.
“I firmly believed that he would always be able to send the three thousand as soon as he got it from his father,” she went on answering the questions. “I always believed in his disinterestedness and in his honesty ... his high honesty ... in matters of money. He firmly believed that he would get three thousand roubles from his father, and said so to me several times. I knew he was having a dispute with his father, and have always been and still am convinced that his father wronged him. I do not recall any threats against his father on his part. At least in my presence he never said anything, any threats. If he had come to me then, I would immediately have calmed his anxiety about the miserable three thousand he owed me, but he no longer came to me ... and I myself ... I was put in such a position ... that I could not ask him to come ... And besides, I had no right to be demanding of him about that debt,” she suddenly added, and something resolute rang in her voice, “I myself once received a financial favor from him even greater than three thousand, and I accepted it, although I could not even foresee then that at least one day I might be able to repay him my debt ...”
One seemed to feel a sort of challenge in the tone of her voice. Precisely at that moment the questioning was taken over by Fetyukovich.
“That was not here, but at the beginning of your acquaintance?” Fetyukovich picked up, approaching cautiously, having instantly sensed something favorable. (I will note parenthetically that in spite of the fact that he had been invited from Petersburg in part by Katerina Ivanovna herself, he knew nothing as yet about the episode of the five thousand given her by Mitya in that town, or about the “bow to the ground.” She had concealed it and did not tell him of it! And that was surprising. One could suppose quite certainly that she herself did not know until the very last moment whether she would tell of this episode in court or not, and was waiting for some sort of inspiration.)
No, never shall I forget those moments! She began telling, she told everything, the whole episode Mitya had revealed to Alyosha, including the “bow to the ground,” and the reasons, and about her father, and her appearance at Mitya’s, and did not betray by a word, not by a single hint, that Mitya himself had suggested, through her sister, that they “send Katerina Ivanovna to him for the money.” She magnanimously concealed it, and was not ashamed to present it as if she, she herself, had gone running to a young officer, on her own impulse, hoping for something ... to beg him for money. This was something tremendous! I had chills and trembled as I listened; the courtroom was dead silent, grasping at every word. Here was an unparalleled thing, so that even from such an imperious and contemptuously proud girl as she was, such extremely frank testimony, such sacrifice, such self-immolation was almost impossible to expect. And for what, for whom? To save her betrayer and offender, at least somehow, at least slightly, to contribute to his salvation by creating a good impression in his favor! And indeed the image of an officer giving away his last five thousand roubles–all he had left in the world—and respectfully bowing to the innocent girl, made a rather sympathetic and attractive picture, but ... how my heart ached! I sensed that what might come of it afterwards (and so it did, it did) was slander! Afterwards, all over town, it was said with a wicked snigger that the story was perhaps not entirely accurate—namely, at the point where the officer supposedly let the girl go “with just a respectful bow.” It was hinted that something had been “left out” there. “And even if it wasn’t left out, if it was all true,” even our most respectable ladies said, “it still isn’t clear that it was quite so noble for a girl to act in such a way even to save her father.” And can it be that Katerina Ivanovna, with her intelligence, with her morbid perspicacity, did not anticipate that there would be such talk? She must have anticipated it, and still she determined to tell everything! Of course, all these dirty little doubts about the truth of the story arose only later, but in the first moment all were thoroughly shaken. As for the members of the court, they listened to Katerina Ivanovna in reverent and even, so to speak, bashful silence. The prosecutor did not allow himself any further questions on the subject. Fetyukovich bowed deeply to her. Oh, he was almost triumphant! Much had been gained: a man who, on a noble impulse, gives away his last five thousand roubles, and then the same man killing his father in the night with the purpose of robbing him of three thousand—there was something partly incongruous about it. Now Fetyukovich could at least eliminate the robbery. A certain new light suddenly poured over “the case.” Something sympathetic emerged in Mitya’s favor. As for him ... it was said that once or twice during Katerina Ivanovna’s testimony he jumped up from his place, then fell back on the bench again and covered his face with his hands. But when she had finished, he suddenly exclaimed in a sobbing voice, stretching his hands out to her:
“Katya, why have you ruined me!”
And he burst into loud sobs that could be heard all over the courtroom. However, he instantly restrained himself and again cried out:
“Now I am condemned!”
And then he froze in his place, as it were, clenching his teeth and crossing his arms tightly on his chest. Katerina Ivanovna remained in the courtroom and sat down on the chair pointed out to her. She was pale and kept her eyes cast down. Those who were near her said she trembled for a long time as if in fever. Grushenka appeared for questioning. I am drawing near the catastrophe that, when it suddenly broke out, indeed perhaps ruined Mitya. For I am certain, and so is everyone else, and all the lawyers also said afterwards, that if it had not been for this episode, the criminal would at least have been given a lighter sentence. But of that presently. And first a few words about Grushenka.
She also came into the courtroom dressed all in black, with her beautiful black shawl over her shoulders. Smoothly, with her inaudible step, swaying slightly, as full-figured women sometimes walk, she approached the balustrade, looking steadily at the presiding judge, and never once glancing either right or left. In my opinion she was very good-looking at that moment, and not at all pale, as the ladies asserted afterwards. It was also asserted that she had a somehow concentrated and angry look. I simply think she was on edge and strongly sensible of the contemptuously curious eyes fixed upon her by our scandal-loving public. Hers was a proud character, which could not brook contempt—of the sort that, at the first suspicion of contempt from someone, at once flares up with wrath and the desire to strike back. With that, of course, there was also timidity, and an inner shame because of this timidity, so it was no wonder that she spoke unevenly—now angry, now contemptuous and overly rude, now suddenly with a sincere, heartfelt note of self-condemnation, self-accusation. But sometimes she spoke as if she were flying into some sort of abyss: “I don’t care what comes of it, I’ll say it anyway ...” Concerning her acquaintance with Fyodor Pavlovich, she observed sharply: “There was nothing to it—is it my fault that he hung onto me?” And then, a minute later, she added: “It was all my fault, I was laughing at both of them– at the old man and at him—and drove them both to it. It all happened because of me.” Somehow Samsonov came up: “That’s nobody’s business,” she snarled at once, with a sort of insolent defiance. “He was my benefactor, he took me in barefoot when my relations threw me out of the house.” The judge reminded her, quite courteously, by the way, that she should answer the questions directly, without getting into unnecessary details. Grushenka blushed, and her eyes flashed.
She had not seen the envelope with the money, and had only heard from “the villain” that Fyodor Pavlovich had some sort of envelope with three thousand in it. “Only it was all foolishness—I just laughed—I wouldn’t have gone there for anything ...”
“When you said ‘the villain’ just now, whom did you mean?” the prosecutor inquired.
“Why, the lackey, Smerdyakov, who killed his master and hanged himself last night.” Of course she was asked at once what grounds she had for such a definite accusation, but it turned out that she, too, had no grounds for it.
“Dmitri Fyodorovich told me so himself, and you can believe him. It was that man-stealer who ruined him, that’s what; she alone is the cause of everything, that’s what,” Grushenka added, all shuddering from hatred, as it were, and a malicious note rang in her voice.
Again she was asked whom she was hinting at.
“At the young lady, at this Katerina Ivanovna here. She sent for me once, treated me to chocolate, wanted to charm me. She has little true shame in her, that’s what ...”
Here the presiding judge stopped her, quite sternly now, asking her to moderate her language. But the jealous woman’s heart was already aflame and she was prepared even to hurl herself into the abyss . . .
“At the time of the arrest in the village of Mokroye,” the prosecutor asked, recalling, “everyone saw and heard how you ran out of the other room, crying: ‘I am guilty of it all, we’ll go to penal servitude together! ‘ Meaning that at that moment you were already certain he had killed his father?”
“I don’t remember what my feelings were then,” Grushenka replied. “Everyone was shouting that he had killed his father, so I felt that I was guilty, and that he had killed him because of me. But as soon as he said he was not guilty, I believed him at once, and I still believe him and shall always believe him: he’s not the sort of man who would lie.”
It was Fetyukovich’s turn to ask questions. Incidentally, I remember him asking about Rakitin and the twenty-five roubles “for bringing Alexei Fyodorovich Karamazov to you.”
“And why is it so surprising that he took the money?” Grushenka grinned with contemptuous spite. “He was forever coming to wheedle money out of me, sometimes he’d take up to thirty roubles a month, mostly for his own pleasures: he had enough money to eat and drink without me.”
“And on what grounds were you so generous to Mr. Rakitin? “ Fetyukovich picked up, ignoring the fact that the judge was stirring uneasily.
“But he’s my cousin. My mother and his mother are sisters. Only he always begged me not to tell anyone here, because he was so ashamed of me.”
This new fact came as a complete surprise to everyone, no one in the entire town knew of it, nor even in the monastery, not even Mitya knew it. It was said that Rakitin turned crimson from shame in his seat. Grushenka had found out somehow, even before she entered the courtroom, that he had testified against Mitya, and it made her angry. All of Mr. Rakitin’s earlier speech, all its nobility, all its outbursts against serfdom, against the civil disorder of Russia—all of it was now finally scrapped and destroyed in the general opinion. Fetyukovich was pleased: once again it was a small godsend. But in general Grushenka was not questioned for very long, and, of course, she could not say anything especially new. She left a rather unpleasant impression on the public. Hundreds of contemptuous looks were fixed on her when, having finished her testimony, she went and sat down in the courtroom a good distance from Katerina Ivanovna. Mitya was silent throughout her questioning, as if turned to stone, his eyes fixed on the ground.
The next witness to appear was Ivan Fyodorovich.
Chapter 5: A Sudden Catastrophe
I will note that he had already been called once, ahead of Alyosha. But the marshal had reported to the presiding judge that, owing to sudden illness or an attack of some kind, the witness could not appear at that moment, but that as soon as he felt better he would be ready to give his testimony whenever they wanted. Somehow, by the way, no one heard this, and it became known only afterwards. His appearance at first went almost unnoticed: the main witnesses, especially the two rival women, had already been questioned; curiosity, for the time being, was satisfied. One could even sense some weariness in the public. They faced the prospect of listening to several more witnesses, who probably had nothing special to say in view of all that had already been said. And time was passing. Ivan Fyodorovich somehow approached remarkably slowly, not looking at anyone and even with his head bowed, as though gloomily pondering something. He was dressed impeccably, but his face produced a morbid impression, at least on me: there was in his face something, as it were, touched with clay, something resembling the face of a dying man. His eyes were dull; he raised them and looked slowly around the courtroom. Alyosha suddenly jumped up from his chair and groaned: aah! I remember it. But not many people caught that either.
The presiding judge began by saying that he was not under oath, that he could give evidence or withhold it, but that, of course, all testimony should be given in good conscience, etc., etc. Ivan Fyodorovich listened and looked at him dully; but suddenly his face began slowly spreading into a grin, and as soon as the judge, who looked at him in surprise, finished speaking, he suddenly burst into laughter.
“Well, anything else?” he asked loudly.
A hush came over the courtroom; something was sensed, as it were. The judge became uneasy.
“You ... are perhaps still a bit unwell?” he said, looking around for the marshal.
“Don’t worry, Your Honor, I’m well enough, and I have something curious to tell you,” Ivan Fyodorovich suddenly replied, quite calmly and respectfully.
“You mean you have some specific information to present? “ the judge went on, still mistrustfully.
Ivan Fyodorovich looked down, hesitated for a few seconds, and, raising his head again, stammered, as it were, in reply:
“No ... I don’t. Nothing special.”
They began asking him questions. He replied somehow quite reluctantly, somehow with exaggerated brevity, even with a sort of repugnance, which increased more and more, though, by the way, his answers were still sensible. To many questions he pleaded ignorance. No, he did not know anything of his father’s accountings with Dmitri Fyodorovich. “Nor was I concerned with it,” he said. Yes, he had heard the defendant threaten to kill his father. Yes, he had heard about the money in the envelope from Smerdyakov . . .
“It’s all the same thing over and over,” he suddenly interrupted with a weary look. “I have nothing special to tell the court.”
“I can see that you are not well, and I understand your feelings ... ,”the judge began.
He turned to the two parties, the prosecutor and the defense attorney, inviting them to ask questions if they thought it necessary, when suddenly Ivan Fyodorovich said in an exhausted voice:
“Let me go, Your Honor, I am feeling very ill.”
And at that, without waiting for permission, he suddenly turned and started out of the courtroom. But having gone about four steps, he stopped as if suddenly pondering something, chuckled softly, and went back to his former place again.
“I’m like that peasant girl, Your Honor ... you know how it goes: ‘I’ll jump if I want, and I won’t if I don’t.’ They go after her with some sarafan or wedding skirt or whatever, asking her to jump up so they can tie it around her and take her to church to be married, and she says: ‘I’ll jump if I want, and I won’t if I don’t . . .’It’s some sort of folk custom . . .” “What do you mean to say by that?” the judge asked sternly.
“Here ... ,”Ivan Fyodorovich suddenly pulled out a wad of money, “here is the money ... the same money that was in that envelope,” he nodded towards the table with the material evidence, “and on account of which my father was murdered. Where shall I put it? Marshal, please hand it to him.”
The marshal took the entire wad and handed it to the judge.
“How could this money possibly end up in your possession ... if it is the same money?” the judge said in surprise.
“I got it from Smerdyakov, the murderer, yesterday. I visited him before he hanged himself. It was he who killed father, not my brother. He killed him, and killed him on my instructions ... Who doesn’t wish for his father’s death ... ?”
“Are you in your right mind?” inadvertently escaped from the judge.
“The thing is that I am precisely in my right mind ... my vile mind, the same as you, and all these ... m-mugs!” he suddenly turned to the public. “A murdered father, and they pretend to be frightened,” he growled with fierce contempt. “They pull faces to each other. Liars! Everyone wants his father dead. Viper devours viper ... If there were no parricide, they’d all get angry and go home in a foul temper ... Circuses! ‘Bread and circuses!” [333]And me, I’m a good one! Is there some water? Give me a drink, for Christ’s sake!” he suddenly clutched his head.
The marshal at once approached him. Alyosha suddenly jumped up and shouted: “He’s sick, don’t believe him, he’s delirious!” Katerina Ivanovna rose impetuously from her chair and, motionless with horror, looked at Ivan Fyodorovich. Mitya stood up and, with a sort of wild, twisted smile, looked and listened greedily to his brother.
“Calm yourselves, I’m not mad, I’m simply a murderer!” Ivan began again. “One really cannot expect eloquence from a murderer ... ,” he suddenly added for some reason, with a twisted laugh.
The prosecutor, visibly perturbed, leaned over to the presiding judge. The members of the court fidgeted and whispered among themselves. Fetyukovich pricked up his ears, listening attentively. The courtroom was frozen in expectation. The judge suddenly came to his senses, as it were.
“Witness, your words are incomprehensible and impossible in this place. Calm yourself if you can, and tell us ... if you really have anything to tell. How can you confirm such a confession ... if in fact you are not raving?”
“That’s the trouble, I have no witnesses. That dog Smerdyakov won’t send you evidence from the other world ... in an envelope. You keep asking for envelopes, as if one wasn’t enough. I have no witnesses ... except one, perhaps,” he smiled pensively. “Who is your witness?”
“He’s got a tail, Your Honor, you’d find him inadmissible! Le diable n’existe point! [334] Pay no mind to him, he’s a wretched, paltry devil,” he added, confidentially, as it were, and suddenly stopped laughing. “He’s sure to be here somewhere, there, under the table with the material evidence, where else would he be sitting? You see, listen to me: I told him I would not keep silent, and he started telling me about the geological cataclysm ... what rot! Well, set the monster free ... he’s begun his hymn, because he finds it all so easy. The same as if some drunken lout started bawling that ‘Vanka’s gone to Petersburg,’ but I’d give a quadrillion quadrillion for two seconds of joy. You don’t know me! Oh, how stupid this all is! Well, take me instead of him! I must have come for some reason ... Why, why is everything in the world so stupid...!”
And again, slowly, pensively, as it were, he began looking around the courtroom. But by then all was astir. Alyosha rushed to him from his place, but the marshal had already seized Ivan Fyodorovich by the arm.
“What is the meaning of this?” Ivan Fyodorovich exclaimed, staring straight into the marshal’s face, and suddenly, seizing him by the shoulders, he flung him violently to the floor. But the guards were already there, he was seized, and then he cried out with a frenzied cry. [335]And all the while he was being taken away, he kept shouting and crying out something incoherent.
Turmoil ensued. I do not remember everything in order, I was excited myself and could not follow. I know only that afterwards, when everything had quieted down, and everyone realized what had happened, the marshal got a telling off, though he thoroughly explained to the authorities that the witness had been well all along, that the doctor had examined him an hour ago when he felt slightly ill, but that before entering the courtroom he had spoken coherently, so that it was impossible to foresee anything; that he himself, on the contrary, had demanded and absolutely wanted to testify. But right after this scene, before everyone had at least somewhat calmed down and recovered, yet another scene broke out: Katerina Ivanovna had hysterics. She began sobbing, with loud shrieks, but would not leave, struggled and begged not to be taken away, and suddenly cried out to the judge:
“I have one more piece of evidence to give, at once ... at once . . .! Here is a paper, a letter ... take it, read it quickly, quickly! It’s a letter from that monster, that one, that one!” she was pointing at Mitya. “He killed his father, you’ll see now, he writes to me how he’s going to kill his father! And the other one is ill, ill, he’s delirious! I’ve seen for three days that he’s delirious!”
So she cried out, beside herself. The marshal took the paper she was holding out to the judge, and she, collapsing on her chair and covering her face, began sobbing convulsively and soundlessly, shaking all over and suppressing the slightest moan for fear of being put out of the courtroom. The paper she handed over was that same letter Mitya had written from the “Metropolis” tavern, which Ivan Fyodorovich referred to as a document of “mathematical” importance. Alas, it was acknowledged precisely as mathematical, and had it not been for this letter, Mitya would perhaps not have perished, or at least not have perished so terribly! I repeat, it was difficult to follow all the details. Even now I picture it as so much turmoil. The presiding judge must at once have communicated the new document to the court, the prosecutor, the defense attorney, the jury. I remember only how they began questioning the witness. To the question of whether she had calmed down, which the judge gently addressed to her, Katerina Ivanovna exclaimed impetuously:
“I am ready, ready! I am quite capable of answering you,” she added, apparently still terribly afraid that for some reason she would not be listened to. She was asked to explain in more detail what this letter was and under what circumstances she had received it.
“I received it on the eve of the crime itself, but he wrote it the day before, in the tavern, which means two days before his crime—look, it’s written on some sort of bill!” she cried breathlessly. “He hated me then, because he himself had done a base thing, going after that creature ... and also because he owed me that three thousand ... Oh, he felt bad about that three thousand because of his own baseness! The three thousand happened like this—I ask you, I beg you to listen to me: three weeks before he killed his father, he came to me in the morning. I knew he needed money, and knew what he needed it for—precisely, precisely to seduce that creature and take her away. I knew that he had already betrayed me, and wanted to abandon me, and I, I myself, handed him the money then, I myself offered it to him, supposedly to be sent to my sister in Moscow—and as I was handing it to him, I looked him in the face and said he could send it whenever he chose, ‘even in a month.’ How, how could he not understand that I was telling him right to his face: ‘You need money to betray me with your creature, here is the money, I’m giving it to you myself, take it, if you’re dishonorable enough to take it...! ‘ I wanted to catch him out, and what then? He took it, he took it and went off and spent it with that creature there, in one night ... But he saw, he saw that I knew everything, I assure you, he also saw that I was just testing him by giving him the money: would he be so dishonorable as to take it from me, or not? I looked into his eyes, and he looked into my eyes and saw everything, everything, and he took it, he took my money and went off with it!”
