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Updated: June 19, 2025
"If you take it into your head to run away to-morrow like that scoundrel Stavrogin," he cried, pouncing furiously on Kirillov, pale, stammering, and hardly able to articulate his words, "I'll hang you... like a fly... or crush you... if it's at the other end of the world... do you understand!"
"I don't talk to Shatov, and I don't see him." "Is he angry?" "No, we are not angry, only we shun one another. We lay too long side by side in America." "I am going to him directly." "As you like." "Stavrogin and I may come and see you from there, about ten o'clock." "Do." "I want to talk to him about something important.... I say, make me a present of your ball; what do you want with it now?
So that's the line you are taking? You'll inform against all of us, and go to a monastery yourself, or to the devil.... But I'll do for you, though you are not afraid of me!" "Ah! That's you chattering!" said Stavrogin, noticing him at last. "Run," he said, coming to himself suddenly, "run after her, order the carriage, don't leave her.... Run, run!
Kirillov picked up the hat and handed it to Nikolay Vsyevolodovitch. "Fire; don't detain your adversary!" cried Mavriky Nikolaevitch in extreme agitation, seeing that Stavrogin seemed to have forgotten to fire, and was examining the hat with Kirillov. Stavrogin started, looked at Gaganov, turned round and this time, without the slightest regard for punctilio, fired to one side, into the copse.
He privately made up his mind that Stavrogin was a shameless coward; and could not understand how he could have accepted Shatov's blow. So he made up his mind at last to send him the extraordinarily rude letter that had finally roused Nikolay Vsyevolodovitch himself to propose a meeting.
Stavrogin bowed politely, but in spite of the fact that they were all only waiting for them, everybody, as though acting on instruction, appeared scarcely to notice them. The lady of the house turned severely to Stavrogin as soon as he was seated. "Stavrogin, will you have tea?" "Please," he answered. "Tea for Stavrogin," she commanded her sister at the samovar. "And you, will you?" "Of course.
Do you know the serfs had more self-respect than Karmazinov? Though they were beaten they always preserved their gods, which is more than Karmazinov's done." "Well, Verhovensky, this is the first time I've heard you talk, and I listen with amazement," observed Stavrogin. "So you are really not a socialist, then, but some sort of... ambitious politician?" "A scoundrel, a scoundrel!
"Well, let him go." "Let him go! And when we can prevent him, too!" "You are mistaken. He is not dependent on me. Besides, I don't care; he doesn't threaten me in any way; he only threatens you." "You too." "I don't think so." "But there are other people who may not spare you. Surely you understand that? Listen, Stavrogin. This is only playing with words. Surely you don't grudge the money?"
Pyotr Stepanovitch suddenly remembered how he had lately splashed through the mud to keep pace with Stavrogin, who had walked, as he was doing now, taking up the whole pavement. He recalled the whole scene, and rage choked him. But Liputin, too, was choking with resentment. Pyotr Stepanovitch might treat the others as he liked, but him!
I'll settle Marya Timofyevna to-morrow!... Without the money, and to-morrow I'll bring you Liza. Will you have Liza to-morrow?" "Is he really mad?" Stavrogin wondered smiling. The front door was opened. "Stavrogin is America ours?" said Verhovensky, seizing his hand for the last time. "What for?" said Nikolay Vsyevolodovitch, gravely and sternly.
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