“What do you mean, a long attack?”

“A long sort of attack, sir, extremely long. Several hours, sir, maybe even a day or two. Once it went on for three days, I fell out of the attic that time. It would stop shaking me, and then it would start again; and for all three days I couldn’t get into my right mind. Fyodor Pavlovich sent for Herzenstube, the local doctor, sir, and he put ice on my head and used some other remedy. . . I could have died, sir.”

“But they say that with the falling sickness you can’t know beforehand that an attack will come at such and such a time. What makes you say you’ll have one tomorrow?” Ivan Fyodorovich inquired with peculiar and irritable curiosity.

“That’s right, sir, you can’t know beforehand.”

“Besides, you fell from the attic that time.”

“I climb up to the attic every day, sir. I could fall from the attic tomorrow, too. Or if not from the attic, then I might fall into the cellar, sir, I go to the cellar every day, too, with my duties, sir.”

Ivan Fyodorovich gave him a long look.

“I see, you’re just driveling, and I’m afraid I don’t understand you,” he said softly but somehow menacingly. “You mean you’re going to pretend to have a three-day attack of the falling sickness tomorrow, eh?”

Smerdyakov, who was staring at the ground and again playing with his right toe, moved his right foot back, put his left foot forward instead, raised his eyes, and, smirking, said:

“Even if I could do such a thing, sir—that is, pretend, sir—and since for an experienced man it would be easy enough to do, then in that case, too, I would have every right to use such a means to save my life from death; for if I’m lying sick, then even if Agrafena Alexandrovna comes to his father, he can’t ask a sick man: ‘Why didn’t you inform me?’ He’d be ashamed to.”

“What the devil!” Ivan Fyodorovich suddenly flung out, his face twisted with malice. “Why are you so afraid for your life? My brother Dmitri’s threats are all just passionate talk, nothing more. He won’t kill you; he’ll kill, but not you!”

“He’d kill me like a fly, sir, me first of all. And even more than that, I’m afraid of something else: that I’ll be considered in his accomplice when he commits some absurdity over his father.”

“Why would they consider you his accomplice?”

“They’ll consider me his accomplice because I informed him about the signals, in great secrecy, sir.”

“What signals? Who did you inform? Devil take you, speak more clearly!”

“I must confess fully,” Smerdyakov drawled with pedantic composure, “that I have a secret here with Fyodor Pavlovich. As you yourself have the honor of knowing (if you do have the honor of knowing it), for the past few days now, as soon as night comes, or just evening, he immediately locks himself in. Lately you’ve been going upstairs early, and yesterday you didn’t go anywhere at all, sir, and therefore maybe you don’t know how carefully he’s begun locking himself in for the night. And even if Grigory Vasilievich himself was to come, he’d open the door for him, sir, only if he was sure of his voice. But Grigory Vasilievich won’t come, sir, because I’m the only one who waits on him now in his room, sir—that’s how he arranged it ever since he started this to-do with Agrafena Alexandrovna, and for the night, I, too, now retire, on his directions, and go and sleep in the cottage, provided I don’t sleep before midnight, but keep watch, get up and walk around the yard, and wait for Agrafena Alexandrovna to come, sir, because he’s been waiting for her like a crazy man for the past few days. And he reasons like this, sir: she’s afraid of him, he says, of Dmitri Fyodorovich (he calls him Mitka), and therefore she will come late at night, by the back way, you watch out for her, he says, until midnight or later. And if she comes, run to the door and knock, on the door or on the garden window, first two times slowly, like this: one, two; then three times more quickly: tap-tap-tap. Then, he says, I’ll know at once that she’s there and will quietly open the door to you. The other signal he gave me in case something urgent happens: first twice quickly, tap-tap, then a pause, then one much stronger tap. Then he’ll know that something sudden has happened and I need very bad to see him, and he’ll open up and I’ll come in and report. It’s all in case Agrafena Alexandrovna might not come herself, but sends a message about something; Dmitri Fyodorovich might come, too, besides, so I should also inform him if he’s around. He’s real frightened of Dmitri Fyodorovich, so that even if Agrafena Alexandrovna has already come and he’s locked himself up with her, and meanwhile Dmitri Fyodorovich turns up somewhere around, then, in that case, it is my duty to report it to him at once without fail, by three knocks, so that the first signal of five knocks means ‘Agrafena Alexandrovna is here,’ and the second signal of three knocks means \ ‘Really have to see you’— that’s how he himself taught me and explained them each several times, with examples. And since in the whole universe only he and I, sir, know about these signals, he’ll come doubtless and not calling out any names (he’s afraid of calling out loud) and open the door. And these same signals have now become known to Dmitri Fyodorovich.”

“Become known? You told him? How dared you?”

“It’s this same fear, sir. And how could I dare hold it back from him, sir? Dmitri Fyodorovich kept pressing me every day: ‘You’re deceiving me, what are you hiding from me? I’ll break both your legs!’ That’s when I informed him about these same secret signals, so that at least he could see my servility and be satisfied that I’m not deceiving him and report to him in every way.”

“If you think he’ll use these signals to try and get in, you mustn’t let him in.”

“But if I was to be laid up with a fit, sir, then how could I stop him from coming in, even if I dared to stop him, sir, seeing how desperate he is?”

“How the devil can you be so sure you’ll have a fit, devil take you! Are you laughing at me?”

“Would I dare laugh at you, sir, and do you think I feel up to laughing with all this fear? I anticipate that a falling fit will come on me, I have this anticipation, it will come from fear alone, sir.”

“What the devil! If you’re laid up then Grigory will keep watch! Warn Grigory beforehand, he certainly won’t let him in.”

“By no means would I dare tell Grigory Vasilievich about the signals without the master’s orders, sir. And concerning Grigory Vasilievich hearing and not letting him in, he’s come down sick today, ever since yesterday, and Marfa Ignatievna is going to give him the treatment tomorrow. They just decided on it. This treatment of theirs is rather curious, sir: Marfa Ignatievna knows this infusion, and always keeps it on hand, a strong one, with some herb in it—it’s her secret, sir. And with this secret medicine she treats Grigory Vasilievich about three times a year, when his whole lower back goes out—he has something like a paralysis, sir, about three times a year. Then Marfa Ignatievna takes a towel, soaks it in this infusion, and rubs his whole back with it for half an hour, tillit’s dry and even gets quite red and swollen, sir, and then she gives him what’s left in the bottle to drink, with some prayer, sir, not all of it, though, because on this rare occasion she leaves a small amount for herself as well, sir, and also drinks it. And neither of them, I can tell you, is used to drinking, and they drop down right there and fall fast asleep for a long time, sir; and when Grigory Vasilievich wakes up after that, he almost always feels good, and Marfa Ignatievna, she wakes up after that and always has a headache, sir. And so, if Marfa Ignatievna fulfills this same intention tomorrow, sir, it’s not likely they’ll be able to hear anything and not let Dmitri Fyodorovich in. They’ll be asleep, sir.”