1 The Brothers Karamazovlating, and in a positive frenzy. He was unmistakably a man
driven into a corner, on the brink of ruin, catching at the
last straw, ready to sink if he failed. Old Samsonov probably
grasped all this in an instant, though his face remained cold
and immovable as a statue’s.
‘Most honoured sir, Kuzma Kuzmitch, you have no doubt
heard more than once of my disputes with my father, Fyodor
Pavlovitch Karamazov, who robbed me of my inheritance
from my mother... seeing the whole town is gossiping about
it... for here everyone’s gossiping of what they shouldn’t...
and besides, it might have reached you through Grushen-
ka... I beg your pardon, through Agrafena Alexandrovna...
Agrafena Alexandrovna, the lady of whom I have the high-
est respect and esteem..’
So Mitya began, and broke down at the first sentence. We
will not reproduce his speech word for word, but will only
summarise the gist of it. Three months ago, he said, he had
of express intention (Mitya purposely used these words in-
stead of ‘intentionally’) consulted a lawyer in the chief town
of the province, ‘a distinguished lawyer, Kuzma Kuzmitch,
Pavel Pavlovitch Korneplodov. You have perhaps heard of
him? A man of vast intellect, the mind of a statesman... he
knows you, too... spoke of you in the highest terms...’ Mitya
broke down again. But these breaks did not deter him. He
leapt instantly over the gaps, and struggled on and on.
This Korneplodov, after questioning him minutely, and
inspecting the documents he was able to bring him (Mitya
alluded somewhat vaguely to these documents, and slurred
over the subject with special haste), reported that they cer-