spoilt a life--punish
yourself.... If only you've spoilt, if only you've ruined any one's
life--punish yourself and go away."

These phrases burst from Mitya almost hysterically. Though Andrey was
surprised at him, he kept up the conversation.

"That's right, Dmitri Fyodorovitch, you're quite right, one mustn't crush
or torment a man, or any kind of creature, for every creature is created
by God. Take a horse, for instance, for some folks, even among us drivers,
drive anyhow. Nothing will restrain them, they just force it along."

"To hell?" Mitya interrupted, and went off into his abrupt, short laugh.
"Andrey, simple soul," he seized him by the shoulders again, "tell me,
will Dmitri Fyodorovitch Karamazov go to hell, or not, what do you think?"

"I don't know, darling, it depends on you, for you are ... you see, sir,
when the Son of God was nailed on the Cross and died, He went straight
down to hell from the Cross, and set free all sinners that were in agony.
And the devil groaned, because he thought that he would get no more
sinners in hell. And God said to him, then, 'Don't groan, for you shall
have all the mighty of the earth, the rulers, the chief judges, and the
rich men, and shall be filled up as you have been in all the ages till I
come again.' Those were His very words ..."

"A peasant legend! Capital! Whip up the left, Andrey!"

"So you see, sir, who it is hell's for," said Andrey, whipping up the left
horse, "but you're like a little child ... that's how we look on you ...
and though you're hasty-tempered, sir, yet God will forgive you for your
kind heart."

"And you, do you forgive me, Andrey?"

"What should I forgive you for, sir? You've never done me any harm."

"No, for every one, for every one, you here alone, on the road, will you
forgive me for every one? Speak, simple peasant heart!"

"Oh, sir! I feel afraid of driving you, your talk is so strange."

But Mitya did not hear. He was frantically praying and muttering to
himself.

"Lord, receive me, with all my lawlessness, and do not condemn me. Let me
pass by Thy judgment ... do not condemn me, for I have condemned myself,
do not condemn me, for I love Thee, O Lord. I am a wretch, but I love
Thee. If Thou sendest me to hell, I shall love Thee there, and from there
I shall cry out that I love Thee for ever and ever.... But let me love to
the end.... Here and now for just five hours ... till the first light of
Thy day ... for I love the queen