“I cannot answer for all my acquaintances.... I am a young man ... and who can be responsible for every one he meets?” cried Rakitin, flushing all over.
“I understand, I quite understand,” cried Fetyukovitch, as though he, too, were embarrassed and in haste to excuse himself. “You, like any other, might well be interested in an acquaintance with a young and beautiful woman who would readily entertain the élite of the youth of the neighborhood, but ... I only wanted to know ... It has come to my knowledge that Madame Svyetlov was particularly anxious a couple of months ago to make the acquaintance of the younger Karamazov, Alexey Fyodorovitch, and promised you twenty‐five roubles, if you would bring him to her in his monastic dress. And that actually took place on the evening of the day on which the terrible crime, which is the subject of the present investigation, was committed. You brought Alexey Karamazov to Madame Svyetlov, and did you receive the twenty‐five roubles from Madame Svyetlov as a reward, that’s what I wanted to hear from you?”
“It was a joke.... I don’t see of what interest that can be to you.... I took it for a joke ... meaning to give it back later....”
“Then you did take— But you have not given it back yet ... or have you?”
“That’s of no consequence,” muttered Rakitin, “I refuse to answer such questions.... Of course I shall give it back.”
The President intervened, but Fetyukovitch declared he had no more questions to ask of the witness. Mr. Rakitin left the witness‐box not absolutely without a stain upon his character. The effect left by the lofty idealism of his speech was somewhat marred, and Fetyukovitch’s expression, as he watched him walk away, seemed to suggest to the public “this is a specimen of the lofty‐minded persons who accuse him.” I remember that this incident, too, did not pass off without an outbreak from Mitya. Enraged by the tone in which Rakitin had referred to Grushenka, he suddenly shouted “Bernard!” When, after Rakitin’s cross‐ examination, the President asked the prisoner if he had anything to say, Mitya cried loudly:
“Since I’ve been arrested, he has borrowed money from me! He is a contemptible Bernard and opportunist, and he doesn’t believe in God; he took the bishop in!”
Mitya, of course, was pulled up again for the intemperance of his language, but Rakitin was done for. Captain Snegiryov’s evidence was a failure, too, but from quite a different reason. He appeared in ragged and dirty clothes, muddy boots, and in spite of the vigilance and expert observation of the police officers, he turned out to be hopelessly drunk. On being asked about Mitya’s attack upon him, he refused to answer.
“God bless him. Ilusha told me not to. God will make it up to me yonder.”
“Who told you not to tell? Of whom are you talking?”