e is suspected, too."

Mitya fixed his eyes on the floor.

"Joking apart," he brought out gloomily. "Listen. From the very beginning,
almost from the moment when I ran out to you from behind the curtain, I've
had the thought of Smerdyakov in my mind. I've been sitting here, shouting
that I'm innocent and thinking all the time 'Smerdyakov!' I can't get
Smerdyakov out of my head. In fact, I, too, thought of Smerdyakov just
now; but only for a second. Almost at once I thought, 'No, it's not
Smerdyakov.' It's not his doing, gentlemen."

"In that case is there anybody else you suspect?" Nikolay Parfenovitch
inquired cautiously.

"I don't know any one it could be, whether it's the hand of Heaven or
Satan, but ... not Smerdyakov," Mitya jerked out with decision.

"But what makes you affirm so confidently and emphatically that it's not
he?"

"From my conviction--my impression. Because Smerdyakov is a man of the most
abject character and a coward. He's not a coward, he's the epitome of all
the cowardice in the world walking on two legs. He has the heart of a
chicken. When he talked to me, he was always trembling for fear I should
kill him, though I never raised my hand against him. He fell at my feet
and blubbered; he has kissed these very boots, literally, beseeching me
'not to frighten him.' Do you hear? 'Not to frighten him.' What a thing to
say! Why, I offered him money. He's a puling chicken--sickly, epileptic,
weak-minded--a child of eight could thrash him. He has no character worth
talking about. It's not Smerdyakov, gentlemen. He doesn't care for money;
he wouldn't take my presents. Besides, what motive had he for murdering
the old man? Why, he's very likely his son, you know--his natural son. Do
you know that?"

"We have heard that legend. But you are your father's son, too, you know;
yet you yourself told every one you meant to murder him."

"That's a thrust! And a nasty, mean one, too! I'm not afraid! Oh,
gentlemen, isn't it too base of you to say that to my face? It's base,
because I told you that myself. I not only wanted to murder him, but I
might have done it. And, what's more, I went out of my way to tell you of
my own accord that I nearly murdered him. But, you see, I didn't murder
him; you see, my guardian angel saved me--that's what you've not taken into
account. And that's why it's so base of you. For I didn't kill him, I
didn't kill him! Do you hear, I did not kill him."

He was almost choking. He