Smerdyakov, who was looking at the ground again, and playing with the toe of his right foot, set the foot down, moved the left one forward, and, grinning, articulated:
“If I were able to play such a trick, that is, pretend to have a fit—and it would not be difficult for a man accustomed to them—I should have a perfect right to use such a means to save myself from death. For even if Agrafena Alexandrovna comes to see his father while I am ill, his honor can’t blame a sick man for not telling him. He’d be ashamed to.”
“Hang it all!” Ivan cried, his face working with anger, “why are you always in such a funk for your life? All my brother Dmitri’s threats are only hasty words and mean nothing. He won’t kill you; it’s not you he’ll kill!”
“He’d kill me first of all, like a fly. But even more
