that it could cost you such distress to confess such a secret. … You cried out, just now, that Siberia would be better than confessing it …”
The prosecutor ceased speaking. He was provoked. He did not conceal his vexation, which was almost anger, and gave vent to all his accumulated spleen, disconnectedly and incoherently, without choosing words.
“It’s not the fifteen hundred that’s the disgrace, but that I put it apart from the rest of the three thousand,” said Mitya firmly.
“Why?” smiled the prosecutor irritably. > “What is there disgraceful, to your thinking, in your having set aside half of the three thousand you had discreditably, if you prefer, ‘disgracefully,’ appropriated? Your taking the three thousand is more important than what you did with it. And by the way, why did you do that—why did you set apart that half, for what purpose, for