ove his
tongue with difficulty; he was much thinner and sallower. Throughout the
interview, which lasted twenty minutes, he kept complaining of headache
and of pain in all his limbs. His thin emasculate face seemed to have
become so tiny; his hair was ruffled, and his crest of curls in front
stood up in a thin tuft. But in the left eye, which was screwed up and
seemed to be insinuating something, Smerdyakov showed himself unchanged.
"It's always worth while speaking to a clever man." Ivan was reminded of
that at once. He sat down on the stool at his feet. Smerdyakov, with
painful effort, shifted his position in bed, but he was not the first to
speak. He remained dumb, and did not even look much interested.

"Can you talk to me?" asked Ivan. "I won't tire you much."

"Certainly I can," mumbled Smerdyakov, in a faint voice. "Has your honor
been back long?" he added patronizingly, as though encouraging a nervous
visitor.

"I only arrived to-day.... To see the mess you are in here." Smerdyakov
sighed.

"Why do you sigh? You knew of it all along," Ivan blurted out.

Smerdyakov was stolidly silent for a while.

"How could I help knowing? It was clear beforehand. But how could I tell
it would turn out like that?"

"What would turn out? Don't prevaricate! You've foretold you'd have a fit;
on the way down to the cellar, you know. You mentioned the very spot."

"Have you said so at the examination yet?" Smerdyakov queried with
composure.

Ivan felt suddenly angry.

"No, I haven't yet, but I certainly shall. You must explain a great deal
to me, my man; and let me tell you, I am not going to let you play with
me!"

"Why should I play with you, when I put my whole trust in you, as in God
Almighty?" said Smerdyakov, with the same composure, only for a moment
closing his eyes.

"In the first place," began Ivan, "I know that epileptic fits can't be
told beforehand. I've inquired; don't try and take me in. You can't
foretell the day and the hour. How was it you told me the day and the hour
beforehand, and about the cellar, too? How could you tell that you would
fall down the cellar stairs in a fit, if you didn't sham a fit on
purpose?"

"I had to go to the cellar anyway, several times a day, indeed,"
Smerdyakov drawled deliberately. "I fell from the garret just in the same
way a year ago. It's quite true you can't tell the day and hour of a fit
beforehand, but you can always have a presentiment of it."

"But you did f