小编❥(^_-):gtwj67
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唯❤:gtwj67
唯❤:gtwj67
小编❥(^_-):gtwj67
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P.S. — I write my curse, but I adore you! I hear it in my heart. One string is left, and it vibrates. Better tear my heart in two! I shall kill myself, but first of all that cur. I shall tear three thousand from him and fling it to you. Though I’ve been a scoundrel to you, I am not a thief! You can expect three thousand. The cur keeps it under his mattress, in pink ribbon. I am not a thief, but I’ll murder my thief. Katya, don’t look disdainful. Dmitri is not a thief! but a murderer! He has murdered his father and ruined himself to hold his ground, rather than endure your pride. And he doesn’t love you.
P.P.S. — I kiss your feet, farewel!
P.P.P.S. — Katya, pray to God that someone’ll give me the money. Then I shall not be steeped in gore, and if no one does — I shall! Kill me!
Your slave and enemy,
D. KARAMAZOV
When Ivan read this “document” he was convinced. So then it was his brother, not Smerdyakov. And if not Smerdyakov, then not he, Ivan. This letter at once assumed in his eyes the aspect of a logical proof. There could be no longer the slightest doubt of Mitya’s guilt. The suspicion never