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Chapter 3

The Sufferings of a Soul

The First Ordeal

A

ND so Mitya sat looking wildly at the people round

him, not understanding what was said to him. Sudden-

ly 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 meant to kill him. But I’m not guilty.

Not I.’

But he had hardly said this, before Grushenka rushed

from behind the curtain and flung herself at the police cap-

tain’s feet.

‘It was my fault! Mine! My wickedness!’ she cried, in a

heart-rending voice, bathed in tears, stretching out her

clasped hands towards them. ‘He did it through me. I tor-

tured him and drove him to it. I tortured that poor old man

that’s dead, too, in my wickedness, and brought him to this!

It’s my fault, mine first, mine most, my fault!’

‘Yes, it’s your fault! You’re the chief criminal! You fury!

You harlot! You’re the most to blame!’ shouted the police

captain, threatening her with his hand. But he was quickly