Chapter I. The Beginning Of Perhotin’s Official Career Pyotr Ilyitch Perhotin, whom we left knocking at the strong locked gates of the widow Morozov’s house, ended, of course, by making himself heard. Fenya, who was still excited by the fright she had had two hours before, and too much “ups

Chapter II. The Alarm Our police captain, Mihail Makarovitch Makarov, a retired lieutenant‐ colonel, was a widower and an excellent man. He had only come to us three years previously, but had won general esteem, chiefly because he “knew how to keep society together.” He was never

Chapter III. The Sufferings Of A Soul, The First Ordeal And so Mitya sat looking wildly at the people round him, not understanding what was said to him. Suddenly he got up, flung up his hands, and shouted aloud: “I’m not guilty! I’m not guilty of that blood! I’m not guilty of my father’s blood…. I

Chapter IV. The Second Ordeal “You don’t know how you encourage us, Dmitri Fyodorovitch, by your readiness to answer,” said Nikolay Parfenovitch, with an animated air, and obvious satisfaction beaming in his very prominent, short‐sighted, light gray eyes, from which he had removed

Chapter V. The Third Ordeal Though Mitya spoke sullenly, it was evident that he was trying more than ever not to forget or miss a single detail of his story. He told them how he had leapt over the fence into his father’s garden; how he had gone up to the window; told them all that had passed under the window. Clearly, precisely,

Chapter VI. The Prosecutor Catches Mitya Something utterly unexpected and amazing to Mitya followed. He could never, even a minute before, have conceived that any one could behave like that to him, Mitya Karamazov. What was worst of all, there was something humiliating in it, and on their side something “supercilious and scornf