'Perhaps you exaggerate, Stiva?'
'No, Pashenka. I am an adulterer, a murderer, a blasphemer, and a deceiver.'
'My God! How is that?' exclaimed Praskovya Mikhaylovna.
'But I must go on living. And I, who thought I knew everything, who taught others how to live--I know nothing and ask you to teach me.'
'What are you saying, Stiva? You are laughing at me. Why do you always make fun of me?'
'Well, if you think I am jesting you must have it as you please. But tell me all the same how you live, and how you have lived your life.'
'I? I have lived a very nasty, horrible life, and now God is punishing me as I deserve. I live so wretchedly, so wretchedly . . .'
'How was it with your marriage? How did you live with your husband?'