together,” Ivan repeated. “And if you won’t go, no matter, I’ll go alone.”
Smerdyakov paused as though pondering.
“There’ll be nothing of the sort, and you won’t go,” he concluded at last positively.
“You don’t understand me,” Ivan exclaimed reproachfully.
“You’ll be too much ashamed, if you confess it all. And, what’s more, it will be no use at all, for I shall say straight out that I never said anything of the sort to you, and that you are either ill (and it looks like it, too), or that you’re so sorry for your brother that you are sacrificing yourself to save him and have invented it all against me, for you’ve always thought no more of me than if I’d been a fly. And who will believe you, and what single proof have you got?”
“Listen, you showed me those notes just now to convince me.”
Smerdyakov lifted the