101 The Brothers Karamazov
‘Who? You mean the myth about that crazy idiot, the ep-
ileptic, Smerdyakov?’
Alyosha suddenly felt himself trembling all over.
‘You know who,’ broke helplessly from him. He could
scarcely breathe.
‘Who? Who?’ Ivan cried almost fiercely. All his restraint
suddenly vanished.
‘I only know one thing,’ Alyosha went on, still almost in
a whisper, ‘it wasn’t you killed father.’
‘Not you’! What do you mean by ‘not you’?’ Ivan was
thunderstruck.
‘It was not you killed father, not you! Alyosha repeated
firmly.
The silence lasted for half a minute.
‘I know I didn’t. Are you raving?’ said Ivan, with a pale,
distorted smile. His eyes were riveted on Alyosha. They
were standing again under a lamp-post.
‘No, Ivan. You’ve told yourself several times that you are
the murderer.’
‘When did I say so? I was in Moscow.... When have I said
so?’ Ivan faltered helplessly.
‘You’ve said so to yourself many times, when you’ve been
alone during these two dreadful months,’ Alyosha went on
softly and distinctly as before. Yet he was speaking now,
as it were, not of himself, not of his own will, but obeying
some irresistible command. ‘You have accused yourself and
have confessed to yourself that you are the murderer and no
one else. But you didn’t do it: you are mistaken: you are not
the murderer. Do you hear? It was not you! God has sent me