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Updated: May 29, 2025
Smerdyakov often waited at table towards the end of dinner, and since Ivan’s arrival in our town he had done so every day. “What are you grinning at?” asked Fyodor Pavlovitch, catching the smile instantly, and knowing that it referred to Grigory.
There was a bright moon in the sky. A nightmare of ideas and sensations filled his soul. “Shall I go at once and give information against Smerdyakov? But what information can I give? He is not guilty, anyway. On the contrary, he’ll accuse me. And in fact, why did I set off for Tchermashnya then? What for?
He frowned and gulped brandy, and it was already a glass too much. “Get along with you, Jesuits!” he cried to the servants. “Go away, Smerdyakov. I’ll send you the gold piece I promised you to-day, but be off! Don’t cry, Grigory. Go to Marfa. She’ll comfort you and put you to bed.
I’ve been sitting here, shouting that I’m innocent and thinking all the time ‘Smerdyakov!’ I can’t get Smerdyakov out of my head. In fact, I, too, thought of Smerdyakov just now; but only for a second. Almost at once I thought, ‘No, it’s not Smerdyakov.’ It’s not his doing, gentlemen.” “In that case is there anybody else you suspect?” Nikolay Parfenovitch inquired cautiously.
As soon as he is arrested the prisoner instantly throws all the blame on Smerdyakov, not accusing him of being his accomplice, but of being himself the murderer. ‘He did it alone,’ he says. ‘He murdered and robbed him. It was the work of his hands.’ Strange sort of accomplices who begin to accuse one another at once! And think of the risk for Karamazov.
“I only answered the questions asked me at the preliminary inquiry,” replied Alyosha, slowly and calmly. “I made no accusation against Smerdyakov of myself.” “Yet you gave evidence against him?” “I was led to do so by my brother Dmitri’s words. I was told what took place at his arrest and how he had pointed to Smerdyakov before I was examined.
He looked at Smerdyakov again with alarm. “Mercy on us! Could any one think of it all in such a desperate hurry? It was all thought out beforehand.” “Well ... well, it was the devil helped you!” Ivan cried again. “No, you are not a fool, you are far cleverer than I thought....” He got up, obviously intending to walk across the room. He was in terrible distress.
There had been talk about Smerdyakov before the trial; some one had heard something, some one had pointed out something else, it was said that Alyosha had gathered together some extraordinary proofs of his brother’s innocence and Smerdyakov’s guilt, and after all there was nothing, no evidence except certain moral convictions so natural in a brother. But Fetyukovitch began his cross-examination.
“But you, too, knew of the envelope and that it was under the pillow.” “I never knew it. I’ve never seen it. This is the first time I’ve looked at it. I’d only heard of it from Smerdyakov.... He was the only one who knew where the old man kept it hidden, I didn’t know ...” Mitya was completely breathless. “But you told us yourself that the envelope was under your deceased father’s pillow.
“He talks very coherently,” thought Ivan, “though he does mumble; what’s the derangement of his faculties that Herzenstube talked of?” “You are cunning with me, damn you!” he exclaimed, getting angry. “But I thought at the time that you quite guessed,” Smerdyakov parried with the simplest air. “If I’d guessed, I should have stayed,” cried Ivan.
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