I didn’t mean anything. From somebody’s pocket, you know. I don’t mean government money, everyone steals that, and no doubt you do, too. …”
“You go to the devil.”
“I’m talking of other people’s money. Stealing straight out of a pocket? Out of a purse, eh?”
“I stole twenty copecks from my mother when I was nine years old. I took it off the table on the sly, and held it tight in my hand.”
“Well, and what happened?”
“Oh, nothing. I kept it three days, then I felt ashamed, confessed, and gave it back.”
“And what then?”
“Naturally I was whipped. But why do you ask? Have you stolen something?”
“I have,” said Mitya, winking slyly.
“What have you stolen?” inquired Pyotr Ilyitch curiously.
“I stole twenty copecks from my mother when I was nine years old, and gave it