It's all a lie- lie upon lie!
As long as I don't break off with her, she goes on hoping, and she won't ruin that monster, knowing how I want to get him out of trouble.
If only that damned verdict would come!"
The words "murderer" and "monster" echoed painfully in Alyosha's heart.
"But how can she ruin Mitya?" he asked, pondering on Ivan's words. "What evidence can she give that would ruin Mitya?"
"You don't know that yet.
She's got a document in her hands, in Mitya's own writing, that proves conclusively that he did murder Fyodor Pavlovitch."
"That's impossible!" cried Alyosha.
"Why is it impossible?
I've read it myself."
"There can't be such a document!" Alyosha repeated warmly. "There can't be, because he's not the murderer.
It's not he murdered father, not he!"
Ivan suddenly stopped.
"Who is the murderer then, according to you?" he asked, with apparent coldness. There was even a supercilious note in his voice.
"You know who," Alyosha pronounced in a low, penetrating voice.
"Who?
You mean the myth about that crazy idiot, the epileptic, 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 to tell you so."
They were both silent.
The silence lasted a whole long minute.
They were both standing still, gazing into each other's eyes.
They were both pale.
Suddenly Ivan began trembling all over, and clutched Alyosha's shoulder.
"You've been in my room!" he whispered hoarsely. "You've been there at night, when he came.... Confess... have you seen him, have you seen him?"
"Whom do you mean- Mitya?" Alyosha asked, bewildered.
"Not him, damn the monster!" Ivan shouted, in a frenzy, "Do you know that he visits me?
How did you find out? Speak!"
"Who is he?
I don't know whom you are talking about," Alyosha faltered, beginning to be alarmed.
"Yes, you do know. or how could you- ? It's impossible that you don't know."
Suddenly he seemed to check himself.