this sort of life I soon squandered all
my money; what was left I intrusted to my friend Afrikan Korshunov, on his
oath and word of honor; with him I had drunk and gone on sprees, he was
responsible for all my folly, he was the chief mixer of the mash! He fooled
me and showed me up, and I was stuck like a crab on a sand bank. I had
nothing to drink, and I was thirsty--what was to be done? Where could I go
to drown my misery? I sold my clothes, all my fashionable things; got pay
in bank-notes, and changed them for silver, the silver for copper, and then
everything went and all was over.

MITYA. How did you live, Lyubim Karpych?

LYUBIM KARPYCH. How did I live? May God never give such a life to a Tatar!
I lived in roomy lodgings, between heaven and earth, with no walls and no
ceiling. I was ashamed to see people. I hid from the world; and yet you
have to go out into God's world, for you have nothing to eat. You go along
the street, and everybody looks at you.--Every one had seen what a life I
used to lead, how I rattled through the town in a first-class cab, and now
went about tattered and torn and unshaven. They shook their heads and away
they went. Shame, shame, shame! [_Sits and hangs his head_] There is a good
business--a trade which pays--to steal. But this business didn't suit me--I
had a conscience, and again I was afraid: no one approves of this business.

MITYA. That's a last resort.

LYUBIM KARPYCH. They say in other countries they pay you thalers and
thalers for this, but in our country good people punch your head for it.
No, my boy, to steal is abominable! That's an old trick, we'll have to give
it up! But, you see, hunger isn't a kind old aunty, and you have to do
something! I began to go about the town as a buffoon, to get money, a kopek
at a time, to make a fool of myself, to tell funny stories, and play all
sorts of tricks. Often you shiver from early morn till night in the town
streets; you hide somewhere behind the corner away from people, and wait
for merchants. When one comes--especially if he is rather rich--you jump
out and do some trick, and one gives you five kopeks, and another ten:
with that you take breath for a day and so exist.

MITYA. It would have been better, Lyubim Karpych, to go to your brother,
than to live like that.

LYUBIM KARPYCH. It was impossible; I'd been drawn in. Oh, Mitya, you get
into this groove, and it isn't easy to get out again. Don't interrupt!
You'll have a chance l