Mitya was pale. His face had a haggard and exhausted look, in spite of his being intensely excited.
“I am beginning to understand you, Dmitri Fyodorovitch,” the prosecutor said slowly, in a soft and almost compassionate tone. “But all this, if you’ll excuse my saying so, is a matter of nerves, in my opinion ... your overwrought nerves, that’s what it is. And why, for instance, should you not have saved yourself such misery for almost a month, by going and returning that fifteen hundred to the lady who had entrusted it to you? And why could you not have explained things to her, and in view of your position, which you describe as being so awful, why could you not have had recourse to the plan which would so naturally have occurred to one’s mind, that is, after honorably confessing your erro
