and sprang back from the window. I remember that very well. I ran across the garden to the fence … and there Grigory caught me, when I was sitting on the
At that point he raised his eyes at last and looked at his listeners. They seemed to be staring at him with perfectly unruffled attention. A sort of paroxysm of indignation seized on Mitya’s soul.
“Why, you’re laughing at me at this moment, gentlemen!” he broke off suddenly.
“What makes you think that?” observed Nikolay Parfenovitch.
“You don’t believe one word—that’s why! I understand, of course, that I have come to the vital point. The old man’s lying there now with his skull broken, while I—after dramatically describing how I wanted to kill him, and how I snatched up the pestle—I suddenly run away from the window. A romance! Poetry! As though one could believe