"Yet that is the case, with some types especially, for men are so
different. You say 'evidence'. Well, there may be evidence. But
evidence, you know, can generally be taken two ways. I am an examining
lawyer and a weak man, I confess it. I should like to make a proof, so
to say, mathematically clear. I should like to make a chain of
evidence such as twice two are four, it ought to be a direct,
irrefutable proof! And if I shut him up too soon--even though I might
be convinced /he/ was the man, I should very likely be depriving
myself of the means of getting further evidence against him. And how?
By giving him, so to speak, a definite position, I shall put him out
of suspense and set his mind at rest, so that he will retreat into his
shell. They say that at Sevastopol, soon after Alma, the clever people
were in a terrible fright that the enemy would attack openly and take
Sevastopol at once. But when they saw that the enemy preferred a
regular siege, they were delighted, I am told and reassured, for the
thing would drag on for two months at least. You're laughing, you
don't believe me again? Of course, you're right, too. You're right,
you're right. These are special cases, I admit. But you must observe
this, my dear Rodion Romanovitch, the general case, the case for which
all legal forms and rules are intended, for which they are calculated
and laid down in books, does not exist at all, for the reason that
every case, every crime, for instance, so soon as it actually occurs,
at once becomes a thoroughly special case and sometimes a case unlike
any that's gone before. Very comic cases of that sort sometimes occur.
If I leave one man quite alone, if I don't touch him and don't worry
him, but let him know or at least suspect every moment that I know all
about it and am watching him day and night, and if he is in continual
suspicion and terror, he'll be bound to lose his head. He'll come of
himself, or maybe do something which will make it as plain as twice
two are four--it's delightful. It may be so with a simple peasant, but
with one of our sort, an intelligent man cultivated on a certain side,
it's a dead certainty. For, my dear fellow, it's a very important
matter to know on what side a man is cultivated. And then there are
nerves, there are nerves, you have overlooked them! Why, they are all
sick, nervous and irritable! . . . And then how they all suffer from
spleen! That I assure you is a regular gold-mine for us. And it's no
anxiety to me, his running about the town free! Let him, let him walk
about for a bit! I know well enough that I've caught him and that he
won't escape me. Where could he escape to, he-he? Abroad, perhaps? A
Pole will escape abroad, but not here, especially as I am watching and
have taken measures. Will he escape into the depths of the country
perhaps? But you know, peasants live there, real rude Russian
peasants. A modern cultivated man would prefer prison to living with
such strangers as our peasants. He-he! But that's all nonsense, and on
the surface. It's not merely that he has nowhere to run to, he is
/psychologically/ unable to escape me, he-he! What an expression!
Through a law of nature he can't escape me if he had anywhere to go.
Have you seen a butterfly round a candle? That's how he will keep
circling and circling round me. Freedom will lose its attractions.
He'll begin to brood, he'll weave a tangle round himself, he'll worry
himself to death! What's more he will provide me with a mathematical
proof--if I only give him long enough interval. . . . And he'll keep
circling round me, getting nearer and nearer and then--flop! He'll fly
straight into my mouth and I'll swallow him, and that will be very
amusing, he-he-he! You don't believe me?"