how dared I, knowing myself, knowing how I should be, take up an
axe and shed blood! I ought to have known beforehand.... Ah, but I did
know!" he whispered in despair. At times he came to a standstill at some
thought.

"No, those men are not made so. The real _Master_ to whom all is
permitted storms Toulon, makes a massacre in Paris, _forgets_ an army in
Egypt, _wastes_ half a million men in the Moscow expedition and gets off
with a jest at Vilna. And altars are set up to him after his death, and
so _all_ is permitted. No, such people, it seems, are not of flesh but
of bronze!"

One sudden irrelevant idea almost made him laugh. Napoleon, the
pyramids, Waterloo, and a wretched skinny old woman, a pawnbroker with
a red trunk under her bed--it's a nice hash for Porfiry Petrovitch to
digest! How can they digest it! It's too inartistic. "A Napoleon creep
under an old woman's bed! Ugh, how loathsome!"

At moments he felt he was raving. He sank into a state of feverish
excitement. "The old woman is of no consequence," he thought, hotly and
incoherently. "The old woman was a mistake perhaps, but she is not
what matters! The old woman was only an illness.... I was in a hurry to
overstep.... I didn't kill a human being, but a principle! I killed the
principle, but I didn't overstep, I stopped on this side.... I was
only capable of killing. And it seems I wasn't even capable of that...
Principle? Why was that fool Razumihin abusing the socialists? They are
industrious, commercial people; 'the happiness of all' is their case.
No, life is only given to me once and I shall never have it again; I
don't want to wait for 'the happiness of all.' I want to live myself,
or else better not live at all. I simply couldn't pass by my mother
starving, keeping my rouble in my pocket while I waited for the
'happiness of all.' I am putting my little brick into the happiness of
all and so my heart is at peace. Ha-ha! Why have you let me slip? I only
live once, I too want.... Ech, I am an aesthetic louse and nothing
more," he added suddenly, laughing like a madman. "Yes, I am certainly a
louse," he went on, clutching at the idea, gloating over it and playing
with it with vindictive pleasure. "In the first place, because I can
reason that I am one, and secondly, because for a month past I have been
troubling benevolent Providence, calling it to witness that not for
my own fleshly lusts did I undertake it, but with a grand and noble
object--ha-ha!