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his life. ‘To her, to her! and there, oh, there I will give a feast
to the whole world, such as never was before, that will be
remembered and talked of long after! In the midst of shouts
of wild merriment, reckless gypsy songs and dances I shall
raise the glass and drink to the woman I adore and her new-
found happiness! And then, on the spot, at her feet, I shall
dash out my brains before her and punish myself! She will
remember Mitya Karamazov sometimes, she will see how
Mitya loved her, she will feel for Mitya!’
‘Here we see in excess a love of effect, a romantic despair
and sentimentality, and the wild recklessness of the Karam-
azovs. Yes, but there is something else, gentlemen of the jury,
something that cries out in the soul, throbs incessantly in
the mind, and poisons the heart unto death — that some-
thing is conscience, gentlemen of the jury, its judgment, its
terrible torments! The pistol will settle everything, the pis-
tol is the only way out! But beyond — I don’t know whether
Karamazov wondered at that moment ‘What lies beyond,’
whether Karamazov could, like Hamlet, wonder ‘What lies
beyond.’ No, gentlemen of the jury, they have their Hamlets,
but we still have our Karamazovs!’
Here Ippolit Kirillovitch drew a minute picture of Mitya’s
preparations, the scene at Perhotin’s, at the shop, with the
drivers. He quoted numerous words and actions, confirmed
by witnesses, and the picture made a terrible impression
on the audience. The guilt of this harassed and desperate
man stood out clear and convincing, when the facts were
brought together.
‘What need had he of precaution? Two or three times he