the peasants, and of Trifon Borissovitch, whose face appeared, for some reason, in the doorway, and vanished immediately. > “He’s come to look at me dressed up,” thought Mitya. He sat down on the same chair as before. He had an absurd nightmarish feeling, as though he were out of his
“Well, what now? Are you going to flog me? That’s all that’s left for you,” he said, clenching his teeth and addressing the prosecutor. He would not turn to Nikolay Parfenovitch, as though he disdained to speak to him.
“He looked too closely at my socks, and turned them inside out on purpose to show everyone how dirty they were—the scoundrel!”
“Well, now we must proceed to the examination of witnesses,” observed Nikolay Parfenovitch, as though in reply to Mitya’s question.
“Yes,” said the prosecutor thoughtfully, as though reflecting on something.
“We’ve done what