You are unjust; I found him sincerely repentant," observed the prince,
after listening for a time.

"What is the good of repentance like that? It is the same exactly as
mine yesterday, when I said, 'I am base, I am base,'--words, and nothing
more!"

"Then they were only words on your part? I thought, on the contrary..."

"Well, I don't mind telling you the truth--you only! Because you see
through a man somehow. Words and actions, truth and falsehood, are all
jumbled up together in me, and yet I am perfectly sincere. I feel the
deepest repentance, believe it or not, as you choose; but words and lies
come out in the infernal craving to get the better of other people.
It is always there--the notion of cheating people, and of using my
repentant tears to my own advantage! I assure you this is the truth,
prince! I would not tell any other man for the world! He would laugh and
jeer at me--but you, you judge a man humanely."

"Why, Keller said the same thing to me nearly word for word a few
minutes ago!" cried Muishkin. "And you both seem inclined to boast about
it! You astonish me, but I think he is more sincere than you, for you
make a regular trade of it. Oh, don't put on that pathetic expression,
and don't put your hand on your heart! Have you anything to say to me?
You have not come for nothing..."

Lebedeff grinned and wriggled.

"I have been waiting all day for you, because I want to ask you a
question; and, for once in your life, please tell me the truth at once.
Had you anything to do with that affair of the carriage yesterday?"

Lebedeff began to grin again, rubbed his hands, sneezed, but spoke not a
word in reply.

"I see you had something to do with it."

"Indirectly, quite indirectly! I am speaking the truth--I am indeed!
I merely told a certain person that I had people in my house, and that
such and such personages might be found among them."

"I am aware that you sent your son to that house--he told me so himself
just now, but what is this intrigue?" said the prince, impatiently.

"It is not my intrigue!" cried Lebedeff, waving his hand.

"It was engineered by other people, and is, properly speaking, rather a
fantasy than an intrigue!"

"But what is it all about? Tell me, for Heaven's sake! Cannot you
understand how nearly it touches me? Why are they blackening Evgenie
Pavlovitch's reputation?"

Lebedeff grimaced and wriggled again.

"Prince!" said he. "Excellency! You won't let me tell you the