“And I’m weeping now, too, German, I’m weeping now, too, you man of God!” Mitya suddenly cried from his place.

In any event, this little anecdote produced a certain favorable impression on the public. But the major effect in Mitya’s favor was produced by the testimony of Katerina Ivanovna, which I shall come to presently. And, generally, when the witnesses à décharge—that is, called by the defense—began to testify, fate seemed suddenly and even seriously to smile on Mitya and—what is most remarkable—to the surprise even of the defense itself. But before Katerina Ivanovna, Alyosha was questioned, and he suddenly recalled one fact that even looked like positive evidence against one most important point of the accusation.

Chapter 4: Fortune Smiles on Mitya

It came as a complete surprise even to Alyosha himself. He was called up without being under oath, and I remember that from the very first words of the examination all sides treated him with great gentleness and sympathy. One could see that his good fame had preceded him. Alyosha testified modestly and with reserve, but an ardent sympathy for his unfortunate brother kept obviously breaking through his testimony. In answer to one question, he outlined his brother’s character as that of a man who, if he was indeed violent and carried away by his passions, was also noble, proud, and magnanimous, ready even for any sacrifice if it was wanted of him. He admitted, however, that in recent days his brother had been in an unbearable situation because of his passion for Grushenka, because of the rivalry with his father. But he indignantly rejected even the suggestion that his brother could have killed with the purpose of robbery, though he confessed that in Mitya’s mind the three thousand roubles had turned almost into some sort of mania, that he regarded it as an inheritance left owing to him by his father, who had cheated him, and that, while he was a totally unmercenary man, he could not even begin speaking of that three thousand without rage and fury. Concerning the rivalry of the two “persons,” as the prosecutor put it—that is, Grushenka and Katya—he answered evasively, and even preferred once or twice not to answer at all.

“Did your brother tell you, at least, that he intended to kill his father?” the prosecutor asked. “You may choose not to answer if you find it necessary,” he added, “He never said it directly,” Alyosha replied.

“And how, then? Indirectly?” “He once spoke to me of his personal loathing for father, and of his fear that ... in an extreme moment ... in a moment of loathing ... he could, perhaps, even kill him.”

“And did you believe it when you heard it?”

“I am afraid to say I did. But I was always convinced that at the fatal moment some higher feeling would always save him, as it did indeed save him, because it was not he who killed my father,” Alyosha concluded firmly, in a loud voice, for all the courtroom to hear. The prosecutor gave a start, like a warhorse hearing the sound of trumpets.

“Rest assured that I fully believe in the complete sincerity of your conviction, and do not in the least connect it or assimilate it with love for your unfortunate brother. Your singular view of the whole tragic episode that took place in your family is already known to us from the preliminary investigation. I shall not conceal from you that it is original in the highest degree and contradicts all the other evidence obtained by the prosecution. And therefore at this point I must insist on asking you: what precisely were the facts that guided your thought and led you to a final conviction of your brother’s innocence and, on the contrary, of the guilt of a certain other person to whom you pointed directly in the preliminary investigation?”

“In the preliminary investigation I simply answered questions,” Alyosha said softly and calmly, “I did not come out and accuse Smerdyakov myself.”

“But still you pointed to him?”

“I pointed to him from what my brother Dmitri said. Even before the interrogation I was told of what happened at his arrest, and how he himself had then pointed to Smerdyakov. I believe completely that my brother is innocent. And if it was not he who killed father, then ...”

“Then it was Smerdyakov? But why Smerdyakov, precisely? And precisely why did you become so utterly convinced of your brother’s innocence?”

“I could not but believe my brother. I know he would not lie to me. I saw by his face that he was not lying to me.”

“Only by his face? That’s all the proof you have?”

“I have no other proof.”

“And concerning Smerdyakov’s guilt, you have not the slightest proof to base it on, apart from your brother’s words and the look on his face?”

“No, I do not have any other proof.”

At that the prosecutor had no more questions. Alyosha’s answers produced a most disappointing impression on the public. There had been some talk of Smerdyakov even before the trial, someone had heard something, someone had pointed to something, it was said that Alyosha had gathered some extraordinary proof in favor of his brother and of the lackey’s guilt, and now—nothing, no proof, except for certain moral convictions quite natural in him as the defendant’s brother.

But then Fetyukovich began his questioning. He asked precisely when it was that the defendant had told him, Alyosha, of his hatred for their father, and of being capable of killing him, whether he had said it, for example, at their last meeting before the catastrophe, and as Alyosha was answering, he suddenly seemed to jump, as if he had just then recalled and understood something:

“I now recall one circumstance I had quite forgotten; it was not at all clear to me then, but now ...”

And Alyosha excitedly recalled, obviously having just suddenly hit upon the idea himself, how during his last meeting with Mitya, in the evening, by the tree, on the road to the monastery, Mitya, hitting himself on the chest, “on the upper part of the chest,” repeated to him several times that he had a means of restoring his honor, and that this means was there, right there, on his chest ... “At the time I thought, when he hit himself on the chest, that he was speaking of his heart,” Alyosha went on, “that in his heart he might find the strength to escape some terrible disgrace that lay ahead of him, and that he did not dare confess even to me. I admit that right then I thought precisely that he was speaking of father, and that he was shuddering as if from shame at the thought of going to father and doing some violence to him, and yet precisely then he seemed to point at something on his chest, so that I remember precisely then some thought flashed through me that the heart isn’t in that part of the chest at all, but lower down, while he was hitting himself much higher, here, right under his neck, and indicating that place. My thought seemed stupid to me then, but perhaps precisely then he was pointing to that amulet with the fifteen hundred roubles sewn up in it. . .!”

“Precisely!” Mitya suddenly shouted from his place. “It’s true, Alyosha, true, I was pounding on it with my fist!”

Fetyukovich rushed to him in a flurry, begging him to calm down, and at the same time simply fastened on to Alyosha. Alyosha, carried away himself by his recollection, ardently voiced his supposition that the disgrace most likely lay precisely in the fact that, while he had these fifteen hundred roubles on him, which he could return to Katerina Ivanovna as half of what he owed her, he had nonetheless decided not to give her this half but to use it for something else—that is, to take Grushenka away, if she were willing . . .

“That’s it, that’s precisely it,” Alyosha kept exclaiming in sudden agitation, “my brother precisely kept exclaiming to me then that he could remove half, half of the disgrace from himself at once (several times he said half! ), but was so unfortunate in the weakness of his character that he would not do it ... he knew beforehand that he could not, that he was not strong enough to do it!”