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Updated: June 26, 2025
Pyotr Ilyitch was simply dumbfounded when he went into the police captain’s. He saw instantly that every one knew. They had positively thrown down their cards, all were standing up and talking. Even Nikolay Parfenovitch had left the young ladies and run in, looking strenuous and ready for action.
The most direct and the easiest thing for him to do would have been to go straight to Fyodor Pavlovitch’s, to find out whether anything had happened there, and if so, what; and only to go to the police captain, as Pyotr Ilyitch firmly intended doing, when he had satisfied himself of the fact. But the night was dark, Fyodor Pavlovitch’s gates were strong, and he would have to knock again.
“He boasted aloud that he would kill his father; we all heard him, here. And it was three thousand he talked about ...” Pyotr Ilyitch listened. All at once he became short and dry in his answers. He said not a word about the blood on Mitya’s face and hands, though he had meant to speak of it at first. They began a third game, and by degrees the talk about Mitya died away.
Now then, Andrey, look alive, fly along full speed!” Andrey whipped up the horses, and the bells began ringing. “Good-by, Pyotr Ilyitch! My last tear is for you!...” “He’s not drunk, but he keeps babbling like a lunatic,” Pyotr Ilyitch thought as he watched him go.
"Of course, I understand that it's hard for him now. I daresay you won't find him to-day; what's to be done? I must make arrangements. Malashka," she added, turning to one of the maids, "ask Nikanop Ilyitch to come here: we will talk it over with him."
“Don’t worry,” said Mitya, and he suddenly laughed. “I smashed an old woman in the market-place just now.” “Smashed? An old woman?” “An old man!” cried Mitya, looking Pyotr Ilyitch straight in the face, laughing, and shouting at him as though he were deaf. “Confound it! An old woman, an old man.... Have you killed some one?” “We made it up. We had a row—and made it up. In a place I know of.
I came away on purpose that I might not have to look the people in the face. One is ashamed not to officiate, as you know. Besides, I have business here, Fyodor Ilyitch. To-morrow after breaking the fast I want to talk things over thoroughly with the Father charged with the inquiry." "Ah! . . ." yawned his Reverence, "and where are you staying?" "At Zyavkin's."
Now that’s done,” he added, putting in the bullet and driving it home with the ramrod. “Pyotr Ilyitch, my dear fellow, that’s nonsense, all nonsense, and if only you knew what nonsense! Give me a little piece of paper now.” “Here’s some paper.” “No, a clean new piece, writing-paper. That’s right.”
But before we proceed to listen to your communication, will you allow me to inquire as to another little fact of great interest to us? I mean the ten roubles you borrowed yesterday at about five o’clock on the security of your pistols, from your friend, Pyotr Ilyitch Perhotin.” “I pledged them, gentlemen. I pledged them for ten roubles. What more? That’s all about it.
But having questioned Pyotr Ilyitch, and learned that he wanted to see Fenya on very “important business,” the man made up his mind at last to open.
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