because I shouldn’t dare, or because it would be damaging, for it’s all a paltry matter and absolutely trifling, but—I won’t, because it’s a matter of principle: that’s my private life, and I won’t allow any intrusion into my private life. That’s my principle. Your question has no bearing on the case, and whatever has nothing to do with the case is my private affair. I wanted to pay a debt. I wanted to pay a debt of honor but to whom I won’t say.”
“Allow me to make a note of that,” said the prosecutor.
“By all means. Write down that I won’t say, that I won’t. Write that I should think it dishonorable to say. Ech! you can write it; you’ve nothing else to do with your time.”
“Allow me to caution you, sir, and to remind you once more, if you are unaware of it,” the prosecutor began, with a peculiar and stern impressiveness, “that you have a perfect right not to answer the questions put to you now, and we on our side have no right to extort an answer from you, if you decline to give it for one reason or another. That is entirely a matter for your personal decision. But it is our duty, on the other hand, in such cases as the present, to explain and set before you the degree of injury you will be doing yourself by refusing to give this or that piece of evidence. After which I will beg you to continue.”
“Gentlemen, I’m not angry … I …” Mitya muttered in a rather disconcerted tone. “Well, gentlemen, you see, that Samsonov to whom I went then …”
We will, of course, not reproduce his account of what is