ondition would not involve the mental
aberration of which mention had just been made. As to the question whether
the prisoner should have looked to the left or to the right on entering
the court, "in his modest opinion," the prisoner would naturally look
straight before him on entering the court, as he had in fact done, as that
was where the judges, on whom his fate depended, were sitting. So that it
was just by looking straight before him that he showed his perfectly
normal state of mind at the present. The young doctor concluded his
"modest" testimony with some heat.

"Bravo, doctor!" cried Mitya, from his seat, "just so!"

Mitya, of course, was checked, but the young doctor's opinion had a
decisive influence on the judges and on the public, and, as appeared
afterwards, every one agreed with him. But Doctor Herzenstube, when called
as a witness, was quite unexpectedly of use to Mitya. As an old resident
in the town who had known the Karamazov family for years, he furnished
some facts of great value for the prosecution, and suddenly, as though
recalling something, he added:

"But the poor young man might have had a very different life, for he had a
good heart both in childhood and after childhood, that I know. But the
Russian proverb says, 'If a man has one head, it's good, but if another
clever man comes to visit him, it would be better still, for then there
will be two heads and not only one.' "

"One head is good, but two are better," the prosecutor put in impatiently.
He knew the old man's habit of talking slowly and deliberately, regardless
of the impression he was making and of the delay he was causing, and
highly prizing his flat, dull and always gleefully complacent German wit.
The old man was fond of making jokes.

"Oh, yes, that's what I say," he went on stubbornly. "One head is good,
but two are much better, but he did not meet another head with wits, and
his wits went. Where did they go? I've forgotten the word." He went on,
passing his hand before his eyes, "Oh, yes, _spazieren_."

"Wandering?"

"Oh, yes, wandering, that's what I say. Well, his wits went wandering and
fell in such a deep hole that he lost himself. And yet he was a grateful
and sensitive boy. Oh, I remember him very well, a little chap so high,
left neglected by his father in the back yard, when he ran about without
boots on his feet, and his little breeches hanging by one button."

A note of feeling and tenderness suddenly came int