“I’ve been to see Smerdyakov. … It was you, you who persuaded me that he murdered his father. It’s only you I believed!” she continued, still addressing Ivan. He gave her a sort of strained smile. Alyosha started at her tone. He had not suspected such familiar intimacy between them.
“Well, that’s enough, anyway,” Ivan cut short the conversation. “I am going. I’ll come tomorrow.” And turning at once, he walked out of the room and went straight downstairs.
With an imperious gesture, Katerina Ivanovna seized Alyosha by both hands.
“Follow him! Overtake him! Don’t leave him alone for a minute!” she said, in a hurried whisper. “He’s mad! Don’t you know that he’s mad? He is in a fever, nervous fever. The doctor told me so. Go, run after him. …”
Alyosha jumped up and ran after Ivan, who was not fifty paces ahead of him.
“What do you want?” He turned quickly on Alyosha, seeing that he was running after him. “She told you to catch me up, because I’m mad. I know it all by heart,” he added irritably.
“She is mistaken, of course; but she is right that you are ill,” said Alyosha. “I was looking at your face just now. You look very ill, Ivan.”
Ivan walked on without stopping. Alyosha followed him.