“What is it, Kolya?” said Alyosha.
“Is your brother innocent or guilty? Was it he killed your father or was it the valet? As you say, so it will be. I haven’t slept for the last four nights for thinking of it.”
“The valet killed him, my brother is innocent,” answered Alyosha.
“That’s what I said,” cried Smurov.
“So he will perish an innocent victim!” exclaimed Kolya; “though he is ruined he is happy! I could envy him!”
“What do you mean? How can you? Why?” cried Alyosha surprised.
“Oh, if I, too, could sacrifice myself some day for truth!” said Kolya with enthusiasm.
“But not in such a cause, not with such disgrace and such horror!” said Alyosha.
“Of course ... I should like to die for all humanity, and as for disgrace, I don’t care about that—our names may perish. I respect your brother!”
“And so do I!” the boy, who had once declared that he knew who had founded Troy, cried suddenly and unexpectedly, and he blushed up to his ears like a peony as he had done on that occasion.