uptly:

"Well, I made up my mind to kill myself. What had I left to live for? That
question stared me in the face. Her first rightful lover had come back,
the man who wronged her but who'd hurried back to offer his love, after
five years, and atone for the wrong with marriage.... So I knew it was all
over for me.... And behind me disgrace, and that blood--Grigory's.... What
had I to live for? So I went to redeem the pistols I had pledged, to load
them and put a bullet in my brain to-morrow."

"And a grand feast the night before?"

"Yes, a grand feast the night before. Damn it all, gentlemen! Do make
haste and finish it. I meant to shoot myself not far from here, beyond the
village, and I'd planned to do it at five o'clock in the morning. And I
had a note in my pocket already. I wrote it at Perhotin's when I loaded my
pistols. Here's the letter. Read it! It's not for you I tell it," he added
contemptuously. He took it from his waistcoat pocket and flung it on the
table. The lawyers read it with curiosity, and, as is usual, added it to
the papers connected with the case.

"And you didn't even think of washing your hands at Perhotin's? You were
not afraid then of arousing suspicion?"

"What suspicion? Suspicion or not, I should have galloped here just the
same, and shot myself at five o'clock, and you wouldn't have been in time
to do anything. If it hadn't been for what's happened to my father, you
would have known nothing about it, and wouldn't have come here. Oh, it's
the devil's doing. It was the devil murdered father, it was through the
devil that you found it out so soon. How did you manage to get here so
quick? It's marvelous, a dream!"

"Mr. Perhotin informed us that when you came to him, you held in your
hands ... your blood-stained hands ... your money ... a lot of money ... a
bundle of hundred-rouble notes, and that his servant-boy saw it too."

"That's true, gentlemen. I remember it was so."

"Now, there's one little point presents itself. Can you inform us,"
Nikolay Parfenovitch began, with extreme gentleness, "where did you get so
much money all of a sudden, when it appears from the facts, from the
reckoning of time, that you had not been home?"

The prosecutor's brows contracted at the question being asked so plainly,
but he did not interrupt Nikolay Parfenovitch.

"No, I didn't go home," answered Mitya, apparently perfectly composed, but
looking at the floor.

"Allow me then to repeat my question