The usher of the court took the whole roll and handed it to the President.

"How could this money have come into your possession if it is the same
money?" the President asked wonderingly.

"I got them from Smerdyakov, from the murderer, yesterday.... I was with
him just before he hanged himself. It was he, not my brother, killed our
father. He murdered him and I incited him to do it ... Who doesn't desire
his father's death?"

"Are you in your right mind?" broke involuntarily from the President.

"I should think I am in my right mind ... in the same nasty mind as all of
you ... as all these ... ugly faces." He turned suddenly to the audience.
"My father has been murdered and they pretend they are horrified," he
snarled, with furious contempt. "They keep up the sham with one another.
Liars! They all desire the death of their fathers. One reptile devours
another.... If there hadn't been a murder, they'd have been angry and gone
home ill-humored. It's a spectacle they want! _Panem et circenses_. Though
I am one to talk! Have you any water? Give me a drink for Christ's sake!"
He suddenly clutched his head.

The usher at once approached him. Alyosha jumped up and cried, "He is ill.
Don't believe him: he has brain fever." Katerina Ivanovna rose impulsively
from her seat and, rigid with horror, gazed at Ivan. Mitya stood up and
greedily looked at his brother and listened to him with a wild, strange
smile.

"Don't disturb yourselves. I am not mad, I am only a murderer," Ivan began
again. "You can't expect eloquence from a murderer," he added suddenly for
some reason and laughed a queer laugh.

The prosecutor bent over to the President in obvious dismay. The two other
judges communicated in agitated whispers. Fetyukovitch pricked up his ears
as he listened: the hall was hushed in expectation. The President seemed
suddenly to recollect himself.

"Witness, your words are incomprehensible and impossible here. Calm
yourself, if you can, and tell your story ... if you really have something
to tell. How can you confirm your statement ... if indeed you are not
delirious?"

"That's just it. I have no proof. That cur Smerdyakov won't send you
proofs from the other world ... in an envelope. You think of nothing but
envelopes--one is enough. I've no witnesses ... except one, perhaps," he
smiled thoughtfully.

"Who is your witness?"

"He has a tail, your excellency, and that would be irregular! _Le diable
n'existe point!_ Don't