are forbidden, I should have pounded your ugly face to a jelly.”
Smerdyakov looked at him almost with relish.
“In the ordinary occasions of life,” he said in the same complacent and sententious tone in which he had taunted Grigory and argued with him about religion at Fyodor Pavlovitch’s table, “in the ordinary occasions of life, blows on the face are forbidden nowadays by law, and people have given them up, but in exceptional occasions of life people still fly to blows, not only among us but all over the world, be it even the fullest Republic of France, just as in the time of Adam and Eve, and they never will leave off, but you, even in an exceptional case, did not dare.”
“What are you learning French words for?”
Ivan nodded towards the exercise-book lying on the table.
“Why shouldn’t I learn them so as to improve my education,