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"They took him, took him from his mother, and locked him up for the night. In the morning, at dawn, the general rode out in full dress for the hunt, mounted on his horse, surrounded by spongers, dogs, handlers, huntsmen, all on horseback. The house-serfs are gathered for their edification, the guilty boy's mother in front of them all. The boy is led out of the lockup. A gloomy, cold, misty autumn day, a great day for hunting. The general orders them to undress the boy; the child is stripped naked, he shivers, he's crazy with fear, he doesn't dare make a peep... 'Drive him!' the general commands. The huntsmen shout, 'Run, run!' The boy runs... 'Sic him!, screams the general and looses the whole pack of wolfhounds on him. He hunted him down before his mother's eyes, and the dogs tore the child to pieces...! I believe the general was later declared incompetent to administer his estates. Well... what do you do with him? Shoot him? Shoot him for our moral satisfaction? Speak, Alyoshka!"
"Shoot him!" Alyosha said softly, looking up at his brother with a sort of pale, twisted smile.
"Bravo!" Ivan yelled in a sort of rapture. "If even you say so, then... A fine monk you are! See what a little devil is sitting in your heart, Alyoshka Karamazov!"
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