“No, Páshenka. I am an adulterer, a murderer, a blasphemer, and a deceiver.”

“My God! How is that?” exclaimed Praskóvya Mikháylovna.

“But I must go on living. And I, who thought I knew everything, who taught others how to live⁠—I know nothing and ask you to teach me.”

“What are you saying, Stíva? You are laughing at me. Why do you always make fun of me?”

“Well, if you think I am jesting you must have it as you please. But tell me all the same how you live, and how you have lived your life.”

“I? I have lived a very nasty, horrible life, and now God is punishing me as I deserve. I live so wretchedly, so wretchedly⁠ ⁠…”

“How was it with your marriage? How did you live with your husband?”