with painful effort, shifted his position in bed, but he was not the first to speak. He remained dumb, and did not even look much interested.
“Can you talk to me?” asked Ivan. “I won’t tire you much.”
“Certainly I can,” mumbled Smerdyakov, in a faint voice. “Has your honor been back long?” he added patronizingly, as though encouraging a nervous visitor.
“I only arrived today. … To see the mess you are in here.”
Smerdyakov sighed.
“Why do you sigh? You knew of it all along,” Ivan blurted out.
Smerdyakov was stolidly silent for a while.
“How could I help knowing? It was clear beforehand. But how could I tell it would turn out like that?”
“What would turn out? Don’t prevaricate! You’ve foretold you’d have a fit; on the way down to the cellar, you know. You mentioned the very spot.”
“Have you said so at the examination yet?” Smerdyakov