“As you like, but observe I was only speaking by way of a general proposition. It’s my personal conviction that you are perfectly right⁠—violence is hateful. I only spoke to show you that you need have no remorse even if⁠ ⁠… you were willing to save your brother of your own accord, as I suggest to you. You would be simply submitting to circumstances, to violence, in fact, if we must use that word. Think about it. Your brother’s and your mother’s fate are in your hands. I will be your slave⁠ ⁠… all my life⁠ ⁠… I will wait here.”

Svidrigaïlov sat down on the sofa about eight steps from Dounia. She had not the slightest doubt now of his unbending determination. Besides, she knew him. Suddenly she pulled out of her pocket a revolver, cocked it and laid it in her hand on the table. Svidrigaïlov jumped up.