diff --git a/.devcontainer/Dockerfile b/.devcontainer/Dockerfile index 75e99d9..cefad20 100644 --- a/.devcontainer/Dockerfile +++ b/.devcontainer/Dockerfile @@ -6,4 +6,4 @@ RUN apt-get update && apt-get -y install qemu-utils libcap2-bin iputils-ping gen # Install Cloud Hypervisor RUN echo 'deb http://download.opensuse.org/repositories/home:/cloud-hypervisor/Debian_12/ /' | tee /etc/apt/sources.list.d/home:cloud-hypervisor.list RUN curl -fsSL https://download.opensuse.org/repositories/home:cloud-hypervisor/Debian_12/Release.key | apt-key add - -RUN apt-get update && apt-get -y install cloud-hypervisor +RUN apt-get update && apt-get -y install cloud-hypervisor edk2-cloud-hypervisor diff --git a/.goreleaser.yml b/.goreleaser.yml index 57af867..7bf21b6 100644 --- a/.goreleaser.yml +++ b/.goreleaser.yml @@ -34,6 +34,9 @@ nfpms: maintainer: support@cirruslabs.org description: CLI for executing Cirrus tasks locally and in any CI section: misc + dependencies: + - cloud-hypervisor + - edk2-cloud-hypervisor formats: - deb - rpm diff --git a/internal/command/pull/pull.go b/internal/command/pull/pull.go index 370b0e3..7c42b9c 100644 --- a/internal/command/pull/pull.go +++ b/internal/command/pull/pull.go @@ -68,7 +68,7 @@ func runPull(cmd *cobra.Command, args []string) error { fullyQualifiedRemoteName.Digest = manifest.GetDescriptor().Digest // Pull the VM image if we don't have one already in cache - if remote.Exists(fullyQualifiedRemoteName) { + if !remote.Exists(fullyQualifiedRemoteName) { if err := oci.PullVMDirectory(cmd.Context(), client, reference, manifest, vmDir, int(concurrency)); err != nil { return err } diff --git a/internal/command/run/run.go b/internal/command/run/run.go index d423076..ea0f526 100644 --- a/internal/command/run/run.go +++ b/internal/command/run/run.go @@ -8,9 +8,12 @@ import ( "github.com/cirruslabs/vetu/internal/network/bridged" "github.com/cirruslabs/vetu/internal/network/software" "github.com/cirruslabs/vetu/internal/storage/local" + "github.com/cirruslabs/vetu/internal/vmconfig" + "github.com/samber/lo" "github.com/spf13/cobra" "os" "path/filepath" + "runtime" "strings" ) @@ -46,6 +49,12 @@ func runRun(cmd *cobra.Command, args []string) error { vmConfig := vmDir.Config() + // Validate VM's architecture + if vmConfig.Arch != runtime.GOARCH { + return fmt.Errorf("this VM is built to run on %q, but you're running %q", + vmConfig.Arch, runtime.GOARCH) + } + // Initialize network var network network.Network @@ -75,9 +84,13 @@ func runRun(cmd *cobra.Command, args []string) error { } // Disks - for _, disk := range vmConfig.Disks { - targetDiskPath := filepath.Join(vmDir.Path(), disk.Name) - hvArgs = append(hvArgs, "--disk", fmt.Sprintf("path=%s", targetDiskPath)) + diskArguments := lo.Map(vmConfig.Disks, func(disk vmconfig.Disk, index int) string { + path := filepath.Join(vmDir.Path(), disk.Name) + return fmt.Sprintf("path=%s", path) + }) + if len(diskArguments) != 0 { + hvArgs = append(hvArgs, "--disk") + hvArgs = append(hvArgs, diskArguments...) } // CPU and memory diff --git a/internal/oci/annotations/annotations.go b/internal/oci/annotations/annotations.go new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f707eca --- /dev/null +++ b/internal/oci/annotations/annotations.go @@ -0,0 +1,10 @@ +package annotations + +const ( + AnnotationName = "org.cirruslabs.vetu.name" + AnnotationUncompressedSize = "org.cirruslabs.vetu.uncompressed-size" + AnnotationUncompressedDigest = "org.cirruslabs.vetu.uncompressed-digest" + + AnnotationTartUncompressedSize = "org.cirruslabs.tart.uncompressed-size" + AnnotationTartUncompressedDigest = "org.cirruslabs.tart.uncompressed-content-digest" +) diff --git a/internal/oci/diskpuller/diskpuller.go b/internal/oci/diskpuller/diskpuller.go new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5a8da0d --- /dev/null +++ b/internal/oci/diskpuller/diskpuller.go @@ -0,0 +1,177 @@ +package diskpuller + +import ( + "context" + "fmt" + "github.com/cirruslabs/vetu/internal/vmdirectory" + "github.com/dustin/go-humanize" + "github.com/regclient/regclient" + "github.com/regclient/regclient/types" + "github.com/regclient/regclient/types/ref" + "github.com/samber/lo" + "github.com/schollz/progressbar/v3" + "io" + "os" + "path/filepath" + "strconv" + "sync" +) + +type NameFromDiskDescriptorFunc func(diskDescriptor types.Descriptor) (string, error) +type InitializeDecompressorFunc func(compressedReader io.Reader) io.Reader + +type diskTask struct { + Desc types.Descriptor + Path string + Offset int64 +} + +func PullDisks( + ctx context.Context, + client *regclient.RegClient, + reference ref.Ref, + vmDir *vmdirectory.VMDirectory, + concurrency int, + disks []types.Descriptor, + nameFromDiskDescriptor NameFromDiskDescriptorFunc, + uncompressedSizeAnnotation string, + initializeDecompressor InitializeDecompressorFunc, +) error { + // Process VM's disks by converting them into + // disk tasks for further parallel processing + diskTaskCh := make(chan *diskTask, len(disks)) + diskNameToOffset := map[string]int64{} + + for _, disk := range disks { + // Extract name + diskName, err := nameFromDiskDescriptor(disk) + if err != nil { + return err + } + + // Extract and parse uncompressed size + uncompressedSizeRaw, ok := disk.Annotations[uncompressedSizeAnnotation] + if !ok { + return fmt.Errorf("disk layer has no %s annotation", uncompressedSizeAnnotation) + } + uncompressedSize, err := strconv.ParseInt(uncompressedSizeRaw, 10, 64) + if err != nil { + return err + } + + diskTaskCh <- &diskTask{ + Desc: disk, + Path: filepath.Join(vmDir.Path(), diskName), + Offset: diskNameToOffset[diskName], + } + + diskNameToOffset[diskName] += uncompressedSize + } + + // There will be no more disk tasks + close(diskTaskCh) + + // Pre-create and truncate disk files + for diskName, offset := range diskNameToOffset { + diskFile, err := os.OpenFile(filepath.Join(vmDir.Path(), diskName), os.O_WRONLY|os.O_CREATE, 0600) + if err != nil { + return err + } + + if err := diskFile.Truncate(offset); err != nil { + return err + } + + if err := diskFile.Close(); err != nil { + return err + } + } + + // Process disk tasks with the specified concurrency + totalUncompressedDisksSizeBytes := lo.Sum(lo.Values(diskNameToOffset)) + totalCompressedDisksSizeBytes := lo.Sum(lo.Map(disks, func(diskDesc types.Descriptor, index int) int64 { + return diskDesc.Size + })) + fmt.Printf("pulling %d disk(s) (%s compressed, %s uncompressed)...\n", len(diskNameToOffset), + humanize.Bytes(uint64(totalCompressedDisksSizeBytes)), + humanize.Bytes(uint64(totalUncompressedDisksSizeBytes))) + + progressBar := progressbar.DefaultBytes(totalCompressedDisksSizeBytes) + + var wg sync.WaitGroup + wg.Add(concurrency) + + diskTasksErrCh := make(chan error, concurrency) + + diskTasksCtx, diskTasksCtxCancel := context.WithCancel(ctx) + defer diskTasksCtxCancel() + + for i := 0; i < concurrency; i++ { + go func() { + defer wg.Done() + + for { + diskTask, ok := <-diskTaskCh + if !ok { + return + } + + if err := diskTask.process(diskTasksCtx, client, reference, progressBar, initializeDecompressor); err != nil { + diskTasksErrCh <- err + diskTasksCtxCancel() + } + } + }() + } + + // Wait for the disk tasks to finish + wg.Wait() + + // Since we've finished with pulling disks, + // we can finish the associated progress bar + if err := progressBar.Finish(); err != nil { + return err + } + + // Check for errors + select { + case err := <-diskTasksErrCh: + return err + default: + return nil + } +} + +func (diskTask *diskTask) process( + ctx context.Context, + client *regclient.RegClient, + reference ref.Ref, + progressBar *progressbar.ProgressBar, + initializeDecompressor InitializeDecompressorFunc, +) error { + // Open disk file and seek to the specified offset + diskFile, err := os.OpenFile(diskTask.Path, os.O_WRONLY, 0600) + if err != nil { + return err + } + if _, err := diskFile.Seek(diskTask.Offset, io.SeekStart); err != nil { + return err + } + + // Pull disk layer from the OCI registry + blobReader, err := client.BlobGet(ctx, reference, diskTask.Desc) + if err != nil { + return err + } + defer blobReader.Close() + + // Decompress the disk data on-the-fly and write it to the disk file + progressBarReader := progressbar.NewReader(blobReader, progressBar) + decompressor := initializeDecompressor(&progressBarReader) + + if _, err := io.Copy(diskFile, decompressor); err != nil { + return err + } + + return diskFile.Close() +} diff --git a/internal/oci/mediatypes/mediatypes.go b/internal/oci/mediatypes/mediatypes.go new file mode 100644 index 0000000..163c069 --- /dev/null +++ b/internal/oci/mediatypes/mediatypes.go @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +package mediatypes + +const ( + MediaTypeConfig = "application/vnd.cirruslabs.vetu.config.v1" + MediaTypeKernel = "application/vnd.cirruslabs.vetu.kernel.v1" + MediaTypeInitramfs = "application/vnd.cirruslabs.vetu.initramfs.v1" + MediaTypeDisk = "application/vnd.cirruslabs.vetu.disk.v1" + + MediaTypeTartConfig = "application/vnd.cirruslabs.tart.config.v1" + MediaTypeTartDisk = "application/vnd.cirruslabs.tart.disk.v2" +) diff --git a/internal/oci/oci.go b/internal/oci/oci.go deleted file mode 100644 index 6179325..0000000 --- a/internal/oci/oci.go +++ /dev/null @@ -1,16 +0,0 @@ -package oci - -import "github.com/dustin/go-humanize" - -const ( - MediaTypeVetuConfig = "application/vnd.cirruslabs.vetu.config.v1" - MediaTypeVetuKernel = "application/vnd.cirruslabs.vetu.kernel.v1" - MediaTypeVetuInitramfs = "application/vnd.cirruslabs.vetu.initramfs.v1" - MediaTypeVetuDisk = "application/vnd.cirruslabs.vetu.disk.v1" - - AnnotationName = "org.cirruslabs.vetu.name" - AnnotationUncompressedSize = "org.cirruslabs.vetu.uncompressed-size" - AnnotationUncompressedDigest = "org.cirruslabs.vetu.uncompressed-digest" - - targetDiskLayerSizeBytes = 500 * humanize.MByte -) diff --git a/internal/oci/pull.go b/internal/oci/pull.go index 5f5d3b1..ce40597 100644 --- a/internal/oci/pull.go +++ b/internal/oci/pull.go @@ -3,31 +3,18 @@ package oci import ( "context" "fmt" - "github.com/cirruslabs/vetu/internal/vmconfig" + "github.com/cirruslabs/vetu/internal/oci/mediatypes" + "github.com/cirruslabs/vetu/internal/oci/pull/tart" + "github.com/cirruslabs/vetu/internal/oci/pull/vetu" "github.com/cirruslabs/vetu/internal/vmdirectory" - "github.com/dustin/go-humanize" - "github.com/pierrec/lz4/v4" "github.com/regclient/regclient" "github.com/regclient/regclient/regclient/manifest" "github.com/regclient/regclient/types" manifestpkg "github.com/regclient/regclient/types/manifest" "github.com/regclient/regclient/types/ref" "github.com/samber/lo" - "github.com/schollz/progressbar/v3" - "gvisor.dev/gvisor/pkg/sync" - "io" - "os" - "path/filepath" - "strconv" ) -type diskTask struct { - Desc types.Descriptor - Path string - Offset int64 -} - -//nolint:gocognit // let's keep it complex for now func PullVMDirectory( ctx context.Context, client *regclient.RegClient, @@ -36,249 +23,23 @@ func PullVMDirectory( vmDir *vmdirectory.VMDirectory, concurrency int, ) error { + // Get layers layers, err := manifest.(manifestpkg.Imager).GetLayers() if err != nil { return err } - // Find VM's config - vmConfigs := lo.Filter(layers, func(descriptor types.Descriptor, index int) bool { - return descriptor.MediaType == MediaTypeVetuConfig - }) - if len(vmConfigs) != 1 { - return fmt.Errorf("manifest should contain exactly one layer of type %s, found %d", - MediaTypeVetuConfig, len(vmConfigs)) - } - - // Process VM's config - fmt.Println("pulling config...") - - vmConfigBytes, err := pullBlob(ctx, client, reference, vmConfigs[0]) - if err != nil { - return err - } - - vmConfig, err := vmconfig.NewFromJSON(vmConfigBytes) - if err != nil { - return err - } - - if err := vmDir.SetConfig(vmConfig); err != nil { - return err - } - - // Find VM's kernel - vmKernels := lo.Filter(layers, func(descriptor types.Descriptor, index int) bool { - return descriptor.MediaType == MediaTypeVetuKernel + // Determine the VM image type + mediaTypes := lo.Map(layers, func(layer types.Descriptor, index int) string { + return layer.MediaType }) - if len(vmKernels) != 1 { - return fmt.Errorf("manifest should contain exactly one layer of type %s, found %d", - MediaTypeVetuKernel, len(vmKernels)) - } - - // Process VM's kernel - fmt.Println("pulling kernel...") - - vmKernelBytes, err := pullBlob(ctx, client, reference, vmKernels[0]) - if err != nil { - return err - } - - if err := os.WriteFile(vmDir.KernelPath(), vmKernelBytes, 0600); err != nil { - return err - } - - // Find VM's initramfs - vmInitramfses := lo.Filter(layers, func(descriptor types.Descriptor, index int) bool { - return descriptor.MediaType == MediaTypeVetuInitramfs - }) - if len(vmInitramfses) > 0 { - if len(vmInitramfses) > 1 { - return fmt.Errorf("manifest should contain exactly one layer of type %s, found %d", - MediaTypeVetuInitramfs, len(vmInitramfses)) - } - - fmt.Println("pulling initramfs...") - - vmInitramfsBytes, err := pullBlob(ctx, client, reference, vmInitramfses[0]) - if err != nil { - return err - } - - if err := os.WriteFile(vmDir.InitramfsPath(), vmInitramfsBytes, 0600); err != nil { - return err - } - } - - // Find VM's disks - disks := lo.Filter(layers, func(desc types.Descriptor, index int) bool { - return desc.MediaType == MediaTypeVetuDisk - }) - - // Process VM's disks by converting them into - // disk tasks for further parallel processing - diskTaskCh := make(chan *diskTask, len(disks)) - diskNameToOffset := map[string]int64{} - - for _, disk := range disks { - // Extract name - diskName, ok := disk.Annotations[AnnotationName] - if !ok { - return fmt.Errorf("disk layer has no %s annotation", AnnotationName) - } - - // Name should be contained in the VM's config - if !lo.ContainsBy(vmConfig.Disks, func(disk vmconfig.Disk) bool { - return disk.Name == diskName - }) { - return fmt.Errorf("disk with name %q is not found in the VM's config", diskName) - } - - // Extract uncompressed size - uncompressedSizeRaw, ok := disk.Annotations[AnnotationUncompressedSize] - if !ok { - return fmt.Errorf("disk layer has no %s annotation", AnnotationUncompressedSize) - } - - // Parse uncompressed size - uncompressedSize, err := strconv.ParseInt(uncompressedSizeRaw, 10, 64) - if err != nil { - return err - } - - diskTaskCh <- &diskTask{ - Desc: disk, - Path: filepath.Join(vmDir.Path(), diskName), - Offset: diskNameToOffset[diskName], - } - - diskNameToOffset[diskName] += uncompressedSize - } - - // There will be no more disk tasks - close(diskTaskCh) - - // Pre-create and truncate disk files - for diskName, offset := range diskNameToOffset { - diskFile, err := os.OpenFile(filepath.Join(vmDir.Path(), diskName), os.O_WRONLY|os.O_CREATE, 0600) - if err != nil { - return err - } - - if err := diskFile.Truncate(offset); err != nil { - return err - } - - if err := diskFile.Close(); err != nil { - return err - } - } - // Process disk tasks with the specified concurrency - totalUncompressedDisksSizeBytes := lo.Sum(lo.Values(diskNameToOffset)) - totalCompressedDisksSizeBytes := lo.Sum(lo.Map(disks, func(diskDesc types.Descriptor, index int) int64 { - return diskDesc.Size - })) - fmt.Printf("pulling %d disk(s) (%s compressed, %s uncompressed)...\n", len(diskNameToOffset), - humanize.Bytes(uint64(totalCompressedDisksSizeBytes)), - humanize.Bytes(uint64(totalUncompressedDisksSizeBytes))) - - progressBar := progressbar.DefaultBytes(totalCompressedDisksSizeBytes) - - var wg sync.WaitGroup - wg.Add(concurrency) - - diskTasksErrCh := make(chan error, concurrency) - - diskTasksCtx, diskTasksCtxCancel := context.WithCancel(ctx) - defer diskTasksCtxCancel() - - for i := 0; i < concurrency; i++ { - go func() { - defer wg.Done() - - for { - diskTask, ok := <-diskTaskCh - if !ok { - return - } - - if err := diskTask.process(diskTasksCtx, client, reference, progressBar); err != nil { - diskTasksErrCh <- err - diskTasksCtxCancel() - } - } - }() - } - - // Wait for the disk tasks to finish - wg.Wait() - - // Since we've finished with pulling disks, - // we can finish the associated progress bar - if err := progressBar.Finish(); err != nil { - return err - } - - // Check for errors - select { - case err := <-diskTasksErrCh: - return err + switch { + case lo.Contains(mediaTypes, mediatypes.MediaTypeConfig): + return vetu.PullVMDirectory(ctx, client, reference, manifest, vmDir, concurrency) + case lo.Contains(mediaTypes, mediatypes.MediaTypeTartConfig): + return tart.PullVMDirectory(ctx, client, reference, manifest, vmDir, concurrency) default: - // no error reported - } - - return nil -} - -func pullBlob( - ctx context.Context, - client *regclient.RegClient, - reference ref.Ref, - descriptor types.Descriptor, -) ([]byte, error) { - blobReader, err := client.BlobGet(ctx, reference, descriptor) - if err != nil { - return nil, err - } - defer blobReader.Close() - - return io.ReadAll(blobReader) -} - -func (diskTask *diskTask) process( - ctx context.Context, - client *regclient.RegClient, - reference ref.Ref, - progressBar *progressbar.ProgressBar, -) error { - // Open disk file and seek to the specified offset - diskFile, err := os.OpenFile(diskTask.Path, os.O_WRONLY, 0600) - if err != nil { - return err + return fmt.Errorf("unsupported VM image type") } - if _, err := diskFile.Seek(diskTask.Offset, io.SeekStart); err != nil { - return err - } - - // Pull disk layer from the OCI registry - blobReader, err := client.BlobGet(ctx, reference, diskTask.Desc) - if err != nil { - return err - } - defer blobReader.Close() - - // Decompress the disk data on-the-fly and write it to the disk file - progressBarReader := progressbar.NewReader(blobReader, progressBar) - lz4Reader := lz4.NewReader(&progressBarReader) - - if _, err := io.Copy(diskFile, lz4Reader); err != nil { - return err - } - - if err := diskFile.Close(); err != nil { - return err - } - - return nil } diff --git a/internal/oci/pull/pullhelper/pullhelper.go b/internal/oci/pull/pullhelper/pullhelper.go new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3a546de --- /dev/null +++ b/internal/oci/pull/pullhelper/pullhelper.go @@ -0,0 +1,24 @@ +package pullhelper + +import ( + "context" + "github.com/regclient/regclient" + "github.com/regclient/regclient/types" + "github.com/regclient/regclient/types/ref" + "io" +) + +func PullBlob( + ctx context.Context, + client *regclient.RegClient, + reference ref.Ref, + descriptor types.Descriptor, +) ([]byte, error) { + blobReader, err := client.BlobGet(ctx, reference, descriptor) + if err != nil { + return nil, err + } + defer blobReader.Close() + + return io.ReadAll(blobReader) +} diff --git a/internal/oci/pull/tart/applestream/applestream.go b/internal/oci/pull/tart/applestream/applestream.go new file mode 100644 index 0000000..aefc2ac --- /dev/null +++ b/internal/oci/pull/tart/applestream/applestream.go @@ -0,0 +1,153 @@ +// Package applestream provides primitives for reading compressed files +// produced by Apple's Compression framework's filters, which we call +// Apple Streams. +// +// No official documentation on Apple Streams exists, except for the public +// reverse-engineering efforts[1]. +// +//nolint:lll // work around https://github.com/golangci/golangci-lint/issues/3983 +// [1]: https://github.com/libyal/dtformats/blob/main/documentation/Apple%20Unified%20Logging%20and%20Activity%20Tracing%20formats.asciidoc#26-lz4-compressed-data + +package applestream + +import ( + "bytes" + "encoding/binary" + "encoding/hex" + "errors" + "fmt" + "github.com/pierrec/lz4/v4" + "io" +) + +const maxAllocatedBytesPerBlockMarker = 128 * 1024 * 1024 + +var ( + ErrFailed = errors.New("decompression of Apple Stream failed") + + blockMarkerCompressed = []byte("bv41") + blockMarkerUncompressed = []byte("bv4-") + blockMarkerEOF = []byte("bv4$") +) + +type Reader struct { + underlyingReader io.Reader + underlyingReaderEOF bool + lz4Dict []byte + uncompressed bytes.Buffer +} + +func NewReader(r io.Reader) *Reader { + return &Reader{ + underlyingReader: r, + } +} + +func (reader *Reader) Read(p []byte) (n int, err error) { + // Do not process next blocks if we have enough uncompressed data + // to feed to the reader. This prevents high memory consumption. + if reader.uncompressed.Len() >= len(p) { + return reader.uncompressed.Read(p) + } + + if !reader.underlyingReaderEOF { + if err := reader.processNextBlock(); err != nil { + return 0, err + } + } + + return reader.uncompressed.Read(p) +} + +func (reader *Reader) processNextBlock() error { + // Read block marker + blockMarker := make([]byte, 4) + if _, err := io.ReadFull(reader.underlyingReader, blockMarker); err != nil { + return fmt.Errorf("%w: failed to read block marker: %v", ErrFailed, err) + } + + switch { + case bytes.Equal(blockMarker, blockMarkerCompressed): + // Read compressed block's header + header := make([]byte, 8) + + if _, err := io.ReadFull(reader.underlyingReader, header); err != nil { + return fmt.Errorf("%w: failed to read the header of a compressed block: %v", + ErrFailed, err) + } + + // Parse compressed block's header + uncompressedSize := binary.LittleEndian.Uint32(header[:4]) + compressedSize := binary.LittleEndian.Uint32(header[4:]) + + // DoS check + if (uncompressedSize + compressedSize) > maxAllocatedBytesPerBlockMarker { + return fmt.Errorf("%w: block's uncompressed and compressed sizes "+ + "(%d and %d bytes respectively) exceed the per-block limit of %d bytes", + ErrFailed, uncompressedSize, compressedSize, maxAllocatedBytesPerBlockMarker) + } + + // Reader compressed block's data + compressedBytes := make([]byte, compressedSize) + if _, err := io.ReadFull(reader.underlyingReader, compressedBytes); err != nil { + return fmt.Errorf("%w: failed to read compressed bytes: %v", ErrFailed, err) + } + + // Decompress compressed block's data + uncompressedBytes := make([]byte, uncompressedSize) + + uncompressedN, err := lz4.UncompressBlockWithDict(compressedBytes, uncompressedBytes, reader.lz4Dict) + if err != nil { + return fmt.Errorf("%w: LZ4 failed to decompress the block: %v", ErrFailed, err) + } + + if uncompressedSize != uint32(uncompressedN) { + return fmt.Errorf("%w: compressed block advertised %d bytes, but LZ4 uncompressed "+ + "%d bytes", ErrFailed, uncompressedSize, uncompressedN) + } + + // Update LZ4 dictionary + reader.lz4Dict = uncompressedBytes + + // Store the uncompressed data + _, _ = reader.uncompressed.Write(uncompressedBytes[:uncompressedN]) + case bytes.Equal(blockMarker, blockMarkerUncompressed): + // Read uncompressed block's header + header := make([]byte, 4) + + if _, err := io.ReadFull(reader.underlyingReader, header); err != nil { + return fmt.Errorf("%w: failed to read the header of an uncompressed block: %v", + ErrFailed, err) + } + + // Parse uncompressed block's header + uncompressedSize := binary.LittleEndian.Uint32(header[:4]) + + // DoS check + if uncompressedSize > maxAllocatedBytesPerBlockMarker { + return fmt.Errorf("%w: block's uncompressed size (%d bytes) exceeds "+ + "the per-block limit of %d bytes", ErrFailed, uncompressedSize, + maxAllocatedBytesPerBlockMarker) + } + + // Read uncompressed block's data + uncompressedBytes := make([]byte, uncompressedSize) + + if _, err := io.ReadFull(reader.underlyingReader, uncompressedBytes); err != nil { + return fmt.Errorf("%w: failed to read uncompressed bytes: %v", ErrFailed, err) + } + + // Update LZ4 dictionary + reader.lz4Dict = uncompressedBytes + + // Store the uncompressed data + _, _ = reader.uncompressed.Write(uncompressedBytes) + case bytes.Equal(blockMarker, blockMarkerEOF): + reader.underlyingReaderEOF = true + default: + return fmt.Errorf("%w: encountered an unsupported block marker during read: %s", + ErrFailed, hex.EncodeToString(blockMarker)) + } + + return nil +} diff --git a/internal/oci/pull/tart/applestream/applestream_test.go b/internal/oci/pull/tart/applestream/applestream_test.go new file mode 100644 index 0000000..344eea6 --- /dev/null +++ b/internal/oci/pull/tart/applestream/applestream_test.go @@ -0,0 +1,54 @@ +package applestream_test + +import ( + "github.com/cirruslabs/vetu/internal/oci/pull/tart/applestream" + "github.com/stretchr/testify/require" + "io" + "os" + "path/filepath" + "testing" +) + +func TestAppleStream(t *testing.T) { + testCases := []struct { + Name string + Filename string + }{ + // Ensure that we correctly processes files with multiple compressed + // blocks marked as "bv41" (mostly large files). Processing such files + // requires using the dictionary and updating it after each uncompressed + // block. + { + Name: "multiple-blocks", + Filename: "pg2554.txt", + }, + // Ensure that we correctly process files that contain uncompressed + // blocks marked as "bv4-" (mostly small files). + { + Name: "uncompressed-blocks", + Filename: "hello-world.txt", + }, + } + + for _, testCase := range testCases { + testCase := testCase + + t.Run(testCase.Name, func(t *testing.T) { + // Open the original file + originalBytes, err := os.ReadFile(filepath.Join("testdata", testCase.Filename)) + require.NoError(t, err) + + // Open the compressed file that was created from the original file + // using Apple's Compression framework's input filter and decompress it + compressedFile, err := os.Open(filepath.Join("testdata", testCase.Filename+".lz4")) + require.NoError(t, err) + + uncompressedBytes, err := io.ReadAll(applestream.NewReader(compressedFile)) + require.NoError(t, err) + + // Ensure that we get the exact same contents + // as in the original file after decompression + require.Equal(t, originalBytes, uncompressedBytes) + }) + } +} diff --git a/internal/oci/pull/tart/applestream/testdata/hello-world.txt b/internal/oci/pull/tart/applestream/testdata/hello-world.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8ab686e --- /dev/null +++ b/internal/oci/pull/tart/applestream/testdata/hello-world.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Hello, World! diff --git a/internal/oci/pull/tart/applestream/testdata/hello-world.txt.lz4 b/internal/oci/pull/tart/applestream/testdata/hello-world.txt.lz4 new file mode 100644 index 0000000..554a271 Binary files /dev/null and b/internal/oci/pull/tart/applestream/testdata/hello-world.txt.lz4 differ diff --git a/internal/oci/pull/tart/applestream/testdata/pg2554.txt b/internal/oci/pull/tart/applestream/testdata/pg2554.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..22b1a7e --- /dev/null +++ b/internal/oci/pull/tart/applestream/testdata/pg2554.txt @@ -0,0 +1,22446 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook of Crime and Punishment + +This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online +at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, +you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located +before using this eBook. + +Title: Crime and Punishment + + +Author: Fyodor Dostoyevsky + +Translator: Constance Garnett + +Release date: March 28, 2006 [eBook #2554] + Most recently updated: August 5, 2021 + +Language: English + + + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CRIME AND PUNISHMENT *** + + + +CRIME AND PUNISHMENT + +By Fyodor Dostoevsky + + + +Translated By Constance Garnett + + + + +TRANSLATOR’S PREFACE + +A few words about Dostoevsky himself may help the English reader to +understand his work. + +Dostoevsky was the son of a doctor. His parents were very hard-working +and deeply religious people, but so poor that they lived with their five +children in only two rooms. The father and mother spent their evenings +in reading aloud to their children, generally from books of a serious +character. + +Though always sickly and delicate Dostoevsky came out third in the +final examination of the Petersburg school of Engineering. There he had +already begun his first work, “Poor Folk.” + +This story was published by the poet Nekrassov in his review and +was received with acclamations. The shy, unknown youth found himself +instantly something of a celebrity. A brilliant and successful career +seemed to open before him, but those hopes were soon dashed. In 1849 he +was arrested. + +Though neither by temperament nor conviction a revolutionist, Dostoevsky +was one of a little group of young men who met together to read Fourier +and Proudhon. He was accused of “taking part in conversations against +the censorship, of reading a letter from Byelinsky to Gogol, and of +knowing of the intention to set up a printing press.” Under Nicholas +I. (that “stern and just man,” as Maurice Baring calls him) this was +enough, and he was condemned to death. After eight months’ imprisonment +he was with twenty-one others taken out to the Semyonovsky Square to +be shot. Writing to his brother Mihail, Dostoevsky says: “They snapped +words over our heads, and they made us put on the white shirts worn by +persons condemned to death. Thereupon we were bound in threes to stakes, +to suffer execution. Being the third in the row, I concluded I had only +a few minutes of life before me. I thought of you and your dear ones and +I contrived to kiss Plestcheiev and Dourov, who were next to me, and to +bid them farewell. Suddenly the troops beat a tattoo, we were unbound, +brought back upon the scaffold, and informed that his Majesty had spared +us our lives.” The sentence was commuted to hard labour. + +One of the prisoners, Grigoryev, went mad as soon as he was untied, and +never regained his sanity. + +The intense suffering of this experience left a lasting stamp on +Dostoevsky’s mind. Though his religious temper led him in the end to +accept every suffering with resignation and to regard it as a blessing +in his own case, he constantly recurs to the subject in his writings. +He describes the awful agony of the condemned man and insists on the +cruelty of inflicting such torture. Then followed four years of penal +servitude, spent in the company of common criminals in Siberia, where +he began the “Dead House,” and some years of service in a disciplinary +battalion. + +He had shown signs of some obscure nervous disease before his arrest +and this now developed into violent attacks of epilepsy, from which he +suffered for the rest of his life. The fits occurred three or four times +a year and were more frequent in periods of great strain. In 1859 he was +allowed to return to Russia. He started a journal--“Vremya,” which was +forbidden by the Censorship through a misunderstanding. In 1864 he lost +his first wife and his brother Mihail. He was in terrible poverty, yet +he took upon himself the payment of his brother’s debts. He started +another journal--“The Epoch,” which within a few months was also +prohibited. He was weighed down by debt, his brother’s family was +dependent on him, he was forced to write at heart-breaking speed, and is +said never to have corrected his work. The later years of his life were +much softened by the tenderness and devotion of his second wife. + +In June 1880 he made his famous speech at the unveiling of the +monument to Pushkin in Moscow and he was received with extraordinary +demonstrations of love and honour. + +A few months later Dostoevsky died. He was followed to the grave by a +vast multitude of mourners, who “gave the hapless man the funeral of a +king.” He is still probably the most widely read writer in Russia. + +In the words of a Russian critic, who seeks to explain the feeling +inspired by Dostoevsky: “He was one of ourselves, a man of our blood and +our bone, but one who has suffered and has seen so much more deeply than +we have his insight impresses us as wisdom... that wisdom of the heart +which we seek that we may learn from it how to live. All his other +gifts came to him from nature, this he won for himself and through it he +became great.” + + + + + +CRIME AND PUNISHMENT + + + + +PART I + + + +CHAPTER I + +On an exceptionally hot evening early in July a young man came out of +the garret in which he lodged in S. Place and walked slowly, as though +in hesitation, towards K. bridge. + +He had successfully avoided meeting his landlady on the staircase. His +garret was under the roof of a high, five-storied house and was more +like a cupboard than a room. The landlady who provided him with garret, +dinners, and attendance, lived on the floor below, and every time +he went out he was obliged to pass her kitchen, the door of which +invariably stood open. And each time he passed, the young man had a +sick, frightened feeling, which made him scowl and feel ashamed. He was +hopelessly in debt to his landlady, and was afraid of meeting her. + +This was not because he was cowardly and abject, quite the contrary; but +for some time past he had been in an overstrained irritable condition, +verging on hypochondria. He had become so completely absorbed in +himself, and isolated from his fellows that he dreaded meeting, not +only his landlady, but anyone at all. He was crushed by poverty, but the +anxieties of his position had of late ceased to weigh upon him. He had +given up attending to matters of practical importance; he had lost all +desire to do so. Nothing that any landlady could do had a real terror +for him. But to be stopped on the stairs, to be forced to listen to her +trivial, irrelevant gossip, to pestering demands for payment, threats +and complaints, and to rack his brains for excuses, to prevaricate, to +lie--no, rather than that, he would creep down the stairs like a cat and +slip out unseen. + +This evening, however, on coming out into the street, he became acutely +aware of his fears. + +“I want to attempt a thing _like that_ and am frightened by these +trifles,” he thought, with an odd smile. “Hm... yes, all is in a man’s +hands and he lets it all slip from cowardice, that’s an axiom. It would +be interesting to know what it is men are most afraid of. Taking a new +step, uttering a new word is what they fear most.... But I am talking +too much. It’s because I chatter that I do nothing. Or perhaps it is +that I chatter because I do nothing. I’ve learned to chatter this +last month, lying for days together in my den thinking... of Jack the +Giant-killer. Why am I going there now? Am I capable of _that_? Is +_that_ serious? It is not serious at all. It’s simply a fantasy to amuse +myself; a plaything! Yes, maybe it is a plaything.” + +The heat in the street was terrible: and the airlessness, the bustle +and the plaster, scaffolding, bricks, and dust all about him, and that +special Petersburg stench, so familiar to all who are unable to get out +of town in summer--all worked painfully upon the young man’s already +overwrought nerves. The insufferable stench from the pot-houses, which +are particularly numerous in that part of the town, and the drunken men +whom he met continually, although it was a working day, completed +the revolting misery of the picture. An expression of the profoundest +disgust gleamed for a moment in the young man’s refined face. He was, +by the way, exceptionally handsome, above the average in height, slim, +well-built, with beautiful dark eyes and dark brown hair. Soon he sank +into deep thought, or more accurately speaking into a complete blankness +of mind; he walked along not observing what was about him and not caring +to observe it. From time to time, he would mutter something, from the +habit of talking to himself, to which he had just confessed. At these +moments he would become conscious that his ideas were sometimes in a +tangle and that he was very weak; for two days he had scarcely tasted +food. + +He was so badly dressed that even a man accustomed to shabbiness would +have been ashamed to be seen in the street in such rags. In that quarter +of the town, however, scarcely any shortcoming in dress would have +created surprise. Owing to the proximity of the Hay Market, the number +of establishments of bad character, the preponderance of the trading +and working class population crowded in these streets and alleys in the +heart of Petersburg, types so various were to be seen in the streets +that no figure, however queer, would have caused surprise. But there was +such accumulated bitterness and contempt in the young man’s heart, that, +in spite of all the fastidiousness of youth, he minded his rags least +of all in the street. It was a different matter when he met with +acquaintances or with former fellow students, whom, indeed, he disliked +meeting at any time. And yet when a drunken man who, for some unknown +reason, was being taken somewhere in a huge waggon dragged by a heavy +dray horse, suddenly shouted at him as he drove past: “Hey there, German +hatter” bawling at the top of his voice and pointing at him--the young +man stopped suddenly and clutched tremulously at his hat. It was a tall +round hat from Zimmerman’s, but completely worn out, rusty with age, all +torn and bespattered, brimless and bent on one side in a most unseemly +fashion. Not shame, however, but quite another feeling akin to terror +had overtaken him. + +“I knew it,” he muttered in confusion, “I thought so! That’s the worst +of all! Why, a stupid thing like this, the most trivial detail might +spoil the whole plan. Yes, my hat is too noticeable.... It looks absurd +and that makes it noticeable.... With my rags I ought to wear a cap, any +sort of old pancake, but not this grotesque thing. Nobody wears such +a hat, it would be noticed a mile off, it would be remembered.... What +matters is that people would remember it, and that would give them +a clue. For this business one should be as little conspicuous as +possible.... Trifles, trifles are what matter! Why, it’s just such +trifles that always ruin everything....” + +He had not far to go; he knew indeed how many steps it was from the gate +of his lodging house: exactly seven hundred and thirty. He had counted +them once when he had been lost in dreams. At the time he had put no +faith in those dreams and was only tantalising himself by their hideous +but daring recklessness. Now, a month later, he had begun to look upon +them differently, and, in spite of the monologues in which he jeered at +his own impotence and indecision, he had involuntarily come to regard +this “hideous” dream as an exploit to be attempted, although he +still did not realise this himself. He was positively going now for a +“rehearsal” of his project, and at every step his excitement grew more +and more violent. + +With a sinking heart and a nervous tremor, he went up to a huge house +which on one side looked on to the canal, and on the other into the +street. This house was let out in tiny tenements and was inhabited by +working people of all kinds--tailors, locksmiths, cooks, Germans of +sorts, girls picking up a living as best they could, petty clerks, etc. +There was a continual coming and going through the two gates and in the +two courtyards of the house. Three or four door-keepers were employed on +the building. The young man was very glad to meet none of them, and +at once slipped unnoticed through the door on the right, and up the +staircase. It was a back staircase, dark and narrow, but he was familiar +with it already, and knew his way, and he liked all these surroundings: +in such darkness even the most inquisitive eyes were not to be dreaded. + +“If I am so scared now, what would it be if it somehow came to pass that +I were really going to do it?” he could not help asking himself as he +reached the fourth storey. There his progress was barred by some porters +who were engaged in moving furniture out of a flat. He knew that the +flat had been occupied by a German clerk in the civil service, and his +family. This German was moving out then, and so the fourth floor on this +staircase would be untenanted except by the old woman. “That’s a good +thing anyway,” he thought to himself, as he rang the bell of the old +woman’s flat. The bell gave a faint tinkle as though it were made of +tin and not of copper. The little flats in such houses always have bells +that ring like that. He had forgotten the note of that bell, and now +its peculiar tinkle seemed to remind him of something and to bring it +clearly before him.... He started, his nerves were terribly overstrained +by now. In a little while, the door was opened a tiny crack: the old +woman eyed her visitor with evident distrust through the crack, and +nothing could be seen but her little eyes, glittering in the darkness. +But, seeing a number of people on the landing, she grew bolder, and +opened the door wide. The young man stepped into the dark entry, which +was partitioned off from the tiny kitchen. The old woman stood facing +him in silence and looking inquiringly at him. She was a diminutive, +withered up old woman of sixty, with sharp malignant eyes and a sharp +little nose. Her colourless, somewhat grizzled hair was thickly smeared +with oil, and she wore no kerchief over it. Round her thin long neck, +which looked like a hen’s leg, was knotted some sort of flannel rag, +and, in spite of the heat, there hung flapping on her shoulders, a mangy +fur cape, yellow with age. The old woman coughed and groaned at every +instant. The young man must have looked at her with a rather peculiar +expression, for a gleam of mistrust came into her eyes again. + +“Raskolnikov, a student, I came here a month ago,” the young man made +haste to mutter, with a half bow, remembering that he ought to be more +polite. + +“I remember, my good sir, I remember quite well your coming here,” the +old woman said distinctly, still keeping her inquiring eyes on his face. + +“And here... I am again on the same errand,” Raskolnikov continued, a +little disconcerted and surprised at the old woman’s mistrust. “Perhaps +she is always like that though, only I did not notice it the other +time,” he thought with an uneasy feeling. + +The old woman paused, as though hesitating; then stepped on one side, +and pointing to the door of the room, she said, letting her visitor pass +in front of her: + +“Step in, my good sir.” + +The little room into which the young man walked, with yellow paper on +the walls, geraniums and muslin curtains in the windows, was brightly +lighted up at that moment by the setting sun. + +“So the sun will shine like this _then_ too!” flashed as it were by +chance through Raskolnikov’s mind, and with a rapid glance he scanned +everything in the room, trying as far as possible to notice and +remember its arrangement. But there was nothing special in the room. The +furniture, all very old and of yellow wood, consisted of a sofa with +a huge bent wooden back, an oval table in front of the sofa, a +dressing-table with a looking-glass fixed on it between the windows, +chairs along the walls and two or three half-penny prints in yellow +frames, representing German damsels with birds in their hands--that was +all. In the corner a light was burning before a small ikon. Everything +was very clean; the floor and the furniture were brightly polished; +everything shone. + +“Lizaveta’s work,” thought the young man. There was not a speck of dust +to be seen in the whole flat. + +“It’s in the houses of spiteful old widows that one finds such +cleanliness,” Raskolnikov thought again, and he stole a curious glance +at the cotton curtain over the door leading into another tiny room, in +which stood the old woman’s bed and chest of drawers and into which he +had never looked before. These two rooms made up the whole flat. + +“What do you want?” the old woman said severely, coming into the room +and, as before, standing in front of him so as to look him straight in +the face. + +“I’ve brought something to pawn here,” and he drew out of his pocket +an old-fashioned flat silver watch, on the back of which was engraved a +globe; the chain was of steel. + +“But the time is up for your last pledge. The month was up the day +before yesterday.” + +“I will bring you the interest for another month; wait a little.” + +“But that’s for me to do as I please, my good sir, to wait or to sell +your pledge at once.” + +“How much will you give me for the watch, Alyona Ivanovna?” + +“You come with such trifles, my good sir, it’s scarcely worth anything. +I gave you two roubles last time for your ring and one could buy it +quite new at a jeweler’s for a rouble and a half.” + +“Give me four roubles for it, I shall redeem it, it was my father’s. I +shall be getting some money soon.” + +“A rouble and a half, and interest in advance, if you like!” + +“A rouble and a half!” cried the young man. + +“Please yourself”--and the old woman handed him back the watch. The +young man took it, and was so angry that he was on the point of going +away; but checked himself at once, remembering that there was nowhere +else he could go, and that he had had another object also in coming. + +“Hand it over,” he said roughly. + +The old woman fumbled in her pocket for her keys, and disappeared behind +the curtain into the other room. The young man, left standing alone in +the middle of the room, listened inquisitively, thinking. He could hear +her unlocking the chest of drawers. + +“It must be the top drawer,” he reflected. “So she carries the keys in +a pocket on the right. All in one bunch on a steel ring.... And there’s +one key there, three times as big as all the others, with deep notches; +that can’t be the key of the chest of drawers... then there must be some +other chest or strong-box... that’s worth knowing. Strong-boxes always +have keys like that... but how degrading it all is.” + +The old woman came back. + +“Here, sir: as we say ten copecks the rouble a month, so I must take +fifteen copecks from a rouble and a half for the month in advance. But +for the two roubles I lent you before, you owe me now twenty copecks +on the same reckoning in advance. That makes thirty-five copecks +altogether. So I must give you a rouble and fifteen copecks for the +watch. Here it is.” + +“What! only a rouble and fifteen copecks now!” + +“Just so.” + +The young man did not dispute it and took the money. He looked at the +old woman, and was in no hurry to get away, as though there was still +something he wanted to say or to do, but he did not himself quite know +what. + +“I may be bringing you something else in a day or two, Alyona +Ivanovna--a valuable thing--silver--a cigarette-box, as soon as I get it +back from a friend...” he broke off in confusion. + +“Well, we will talk about it then, sir.” + +“Good-bye--are you always at home alone, your sister is not here with +you?” He asked her as casually as possible as he went out into the +passage. + +“What business is she of yours, my good sir?” + +“Oh, nothing particular, I simply asked. You are too quick.... Good-day, +Alyona Ivanovna.” + +Raskolnikov went out in complete confusion. This confusion became more +and more intense. As he went down the stairs, he even stopped short, two +or three times, as though suddenly struck by some thought. When he was +in the street he cried out, “Oh, God, how loathsome it all is! and +can I, can I possibly.... No, it’s nonsense, it’s rubbish!” he added +resolutely. “And how could such an atrocious thing come into my head? +What filthy things my heart is capable of. Yes, filthy above all, +disgusting, loathsome, loathsome!--and for a whole month I’ve been....” + But no words, no exclamations, could express his agitation. The feeling +of intense repulsion, which had begun to oppress and torture his heart +while he was on his way to the old woman, had by now reached such a +pitch and had taken such a definite form that he did not know what to +do with himself to escape from his wretchedness. He walked along the +pavement like a drunken man, regardless of the passers-by, and jostling +against them, and only came to his senses when he was in the next +street. Looking round, he noticed that he was standing close to a tavern +which was entered by steps leading from the pavement to the basement. +At that instant two drunken men came out at the door, and abusing and +supporting one another, they mounted the steps. Without stopping to +think, Raskolnikov went down the steps at once. Till that moment he had +never been into a tavern, but now he felt giddy and was tormented by a +burning thirst. He longed for a drink of cold beer, and attributed his +sudden weakness to the want of food. He sat down at a sticky little +table in a dark and dirty corner; ordered some beer, and eagerly drank +off the first glassful. At once he felt easier; and his thoughts became +clear. + +“All that’s nonsense,” he said hopefully, “and there is nothing in it +all to worry about! It’s simply physical derangement. Just a glass of +beer, a piece of dry bread--and in one moment the brain is stronger, +the mind is clearer and the will is firm! Phew, how utterly petty it all +is!” + +But in spite of this scornful reflection, he was by now looking cheerful +as though he were suddenly set free from a terrible burden: and he gazed +round in a friendly way at the people in the room. But even at that +moment he had a dim foreboding that this happier frame of mind was also +not normal. + +There were few people at the time in the tavern. Besides the two drunken +men he had met on the steps, a group consisting of about five men and +a girl with a concertina had gone out at the same time. Their departure +left the room quiet and rather empty. The persons still in the tavern +were a man who appeared to be an artisan, drunk, but not extremely so, +sitting before a pot of beer, and his companion, a huge, stout man with +a grey beard, in a short full-skirted coat. He was very drunk: and had +dropped asleep on the bench; every now and then, he began as though in +his sleep, cracking his fingers, with his arms wide apart and the upper +part of his body bounding about on the bench, while he hummed some +meaningless refrain, trying to recall some such lines as these: + + “His wife a year he fondly loved + His wife a--a year he--fondly loved.” + +Or suddenly waking up again: + + “Walking along the crowded row + He met the one he used to know.” + +But no one shared his enjoyment: his silent companion looked with +positive hostility and mistrust at all these manifestations. There was +another man in the room who looked somewhat like a retired government +clerk. He was sitting apart, now and then sipping from his pot and +looking round at the company. He, too, appeared to be in some agitation. + + + +CHAPTER II + +Raskolnikov was not used to crowds, and, as we said before, he avoided +society of every sort, more especially of late. But now all at once he +felt a desire to be with other people. Something new seemed to be taking +place within him, and with it he felt a sort of thirst for company. He +was so weary after a whole month of concentrated wretchedness and gloomy +excitement that he longed to rest, if only for a moment, in some other +world, whatever it might be; and, in spite of the filthiness of the +surroundings, he was glad now to stay in the tavern. + +The master of the establishment was in another room, but he frequently +came down some steps into the main room, his jaunty, tarred boots with +red turn-over tops coming into view each time before the rest of his +person. He wore a full coat and a horribly greasy black satin waistcoat, +with no cravat, and his whole face seemed smeared with oil like an +iron lock. At the counter stood a boy of about fourteen, and there was +another boy somewhat younger who handed whatever was wanted. On the +counter lay some sliced cucumber, some pieces of dried black bread, and +some fish, chopped up small, all smelling very bad. It was insufferably +close, and so heavy with the fumes of spirits that five minutes in such +an atmosphere might well make a man drunk. + +There are chance meetings with strangers that interest us from the +first moment, before a word is spoken. Such was the impression made on +Raskolnikov by the person sitting a little distance from him, who looked +like a retired clerk. The young man often recalled this impression +afterwards, and even ascribed it to presentiment. He looked repeatedly +at the clerk, partly no doubt because the latter was staring +persistently at him, obviously anxious to enter into conversation. At +the other persons in the room, including the tavern-keeper, the clerk +looked as though he were used to their company, and weary of it, showing +a shade of condescending contempt for them as persons of station and +culture inferior to his own, with whom it would be useless for him to +converse. He was a man over fifty, bald and grizzled, of medium height, +and stoutly built. His face, bloated from continual drinking, was of +a yellow, even greenish, tinge, with swollen eyelids out of which keen +reddish eyes gleamed like little chinks. But there was something very +strange in him; there was a light in his eyes as though of intense +feeling--perhaps there were even thought and intelligence, but at the +same time there was a gleam of something like madness. He was wearing an +old and hopelessly ragged black dress coat, with all its buttons missing +except one, and that one he had buttoned, evidently clinging to this +last trace of respectability. A crumpled shirt front, covered with spots +and stains, protruded from his canvas waistcoat. Like a clerk, he wore +no beard, nor moustache, but had been so long unshaven that his chin +looked like a stiff greyish brush. And there was something respectable +and like an official about his manner too. But he was restless; he +ruffled up his hair and from time to time let his head drop into his +hands dejectedly resting his ragged elbows on the stained and sticky +table. At last he looked straight at Raskolnikov, and said loudly and +resolutely: + +“May I venture, honoured sir, to engage you in polite conversation? +Forasmuch as, though your exterior would not command respect, my +experience admonishes me that you are a man of education and not +accustomed to drinking. I have always respected education when in +conjunction with genuine sentiments, and I am besides a titular +counsellor in rank. Marmeladov--such is my name; titular counsellor. I +make bold to inquire--have you been in the service?” + +“No, I am studying,” answered the young man, somewhat surprised at +the grandiloquent style of the speaker and also at being so directly +addressed. In spite of the momentary desire he had just been feeling for +company of any sort, on being actually spoken to he felt immediately his +habitual irritable and uneasy aversion for any stranger who approached +or attempted to approach him. + +“A student then, or formerly a student,” cried the clerk. “Just what +I thought! I’m a man of experience, immense experience, sir,” and he +tapped his forehead with his fingers in self-approval. “You’ve been a +student or have attended some learned institution!... But allow me....” + He got up, staggered, took up his jug and glass, and sat down beside +the young man, facing him a little sideways. He was drunk, but spoke +fluently and boldly, only occasionally losing the thread of his +sentences and drawling his words. He pounced upon Raskolnikov as +greedily as though he too had not spoken to a soul for a month. + +“Honoured sir,” he began almost with solemnity, “poverty is not a vice, +that’s a true saying. Yet I know too that drunkenness is not a virtue, +and that that’s even truer. But beggary, honoured sir, beggary is a +vice. In poverty you may still retain your innate nobility of soul, but +in beggary--never--no one. For beggary a man is not chased out of human +society with a stick, he is swept out with a broom, so as to make it as +humiliating as possible; and quite right, too, forasmuch as in beggary +I am ready to be the first to humiliate myself. Hence the pot-house! +Honoured sir, a month ago Mr. Lebeziatnikov gave my wife a beating, and +my wife is a very different matter from me! Do you understand? Allow me +to ask you another question out of simple curiosity: have you ever spent +a night on a hay barge, on the Neva?” + +“No, I have not happened to,” answered Raskolnikov. “What do you mean?” + +“Well, I’ve just come from one and it’s the fifth night I’ve slept +so....” He filled his glass, emptied it and paused. Bits of hay were in +fact clinging to his clothes and sticking to his hair. It seemed quite +probable that he had not undressed or washed for the last five days. +His hands, particularly, were filthy. They were fat and red, with black +nails. + +His conversation seemed to excite a general though languid interest. The +boys at the counter fell to sniggering. The innkeeper came down from the +upper room, apparently on purpose to listen to the “funny fellow” + and sat down at a little distance, yawning lazily, but with dignity. +Evidently Marmeladov was a familiar figure here, and he had most +likely acquired his weakness for high-flown speeches from the habit of +frequently entering into conversation with strangers of all sorts in +the tavern. This habit develops into a necessity in some drunkards, and +especially in those who are looked after sharply and kept in order +at home. Hence in the company of other drinkers they try to justify +themselves and even if possible obtain consideration. + +“Funny fellow!” pronounced the innkeeper. “And why don’t you work, why +aren’t you at your duty, if you are in the service?” + +“Why am I not at my duty, honoured sir,” Marmeladov went on, addressing +himself exclusively to Raskolnikov, as though it had been he who put +that question to him. “Why am I not at my duty? Does not my heart ache +to think what a useless worm I am? A month ago when Mr. Lebeziatnikov +beat my wife with his own hands, and I lay drunk, didn’t I suffer? +Excuse me, young man, has it ever happened to you... hm... well, to +petition hopelessly for a loan?” + +“Yes, it has. But what do you mean by hopelessly?” + +“Hopelessly in the fullest sense, when you know beforehand that you +will get nothing by it. You know, for instance, beforehand with positive +certainty that this man, this most reputable and exemplary citizen, will +on no consideration give you money; and indeed I ask you why should he? +For he knows of course that I shan’t pay it back. From compassion? But +Mr. Lebeziatnikov who keeps up with modern ideas explained the other day +that compassion is forbidden nowadays by science itself, and that that’s +what is done now in England, where there is political economy. Why, I +ask you, should he give it to me? And yet though I know beforehand that +he won’t, I set off to him and...” + +“Why do you go?” put in Raskolnikov. + +“Well, when one has no one, nowhere else one can go! For every man must +have somewhere to go. Since there are times when one absolutely must +go somewhere! When my own daughter first went out with a yellow ticket, +then I had to go... (for my daughter has a yellow passport),” he added +in parenthesis, looking with a certain uneasiness at the young man. +“No matter, sir, no matter!” he went on hurriedly and with apparent +composure when both the boys at the counter guffawed and even the +innkeeper smiled--“No matter, I am not confounded by the wagging of +their heads; for everyone knows everything about it already, and all +that is secret is made open. And I accept it all, not with contempt, but +with humility. So be it! So be it! ‘Behold the man!’ Excuse me, young +man, can you.... No, to put it more strongly and more distinctly; not +_can_ you but _dare_ you, looking upon me, assert that I am not a pig?” + +The young man did not answer a word. + +“Well,” the orator began again stolidly and with even increased dignity, +after waiting for the laughter in the room to subside. “Well, so be +it, I am a pig, but she is a lady! I have the semblance of a beast, but +Katerina Ivanovna, my spouse, is a person of education and an officer’s +daughter. Granted, granted, I am a scoundrel, but she is a woman of a +noble heart, full of sentiments, refined by education. And yet... oh, +if only she felt for me! Honoured sir, honoured sir, you know every man +ought to have at least one place where people feel for him! But Katerina +Ivanovna, though she is magnanimous, she is unjust.... And yet, although +I realise that when she pulls my hair she only does it out of pity--for +I repeat without being ashamed, she pulls my hair, young man,” he +declared with redoubled dignity, hearing the sniggering again--“but, my +God, if she would but once.... But no, no! It’s all in vain and it’s no +use talking! No use talking! For more than once, my wish did come true +and more than once she has felt for me but... such is my fate and I am a +beast by nature!” + +“Rather!” assented the innkeeper yawning. Marmeladov struck his fist +resolutely on the table. + +“Such is my fate! Do you know, sir, do you know, I have sold her very +stockings for drink? Not her shoes--that would be more or less in the +order of things, but her stockings, her stockings I have sold for drink! +Her mohair shawl I sold for drink, a present to her long ago, her own +property, not mine; and we live in a cold room and she caught cold this +winter and has begun coughing and spitting blood too. We have three +little children and Katerina Ivanovna is at work from morning till +night; she is scrubbing and cleaning and washing the children, for she’s +been used to cleanliness from a child. But her chest is weak and she has +a tendency to consumption and I feel it! Do you suppose I don’t feel it? +And the more I drink the more I feel it. That’s why I drink too. I try +to find sympathy and feeling in drink.... I drink so that I may suffer +twice as much!” And as though in despair he laid his head down on the +table. + +“Young man,” he went on, raising his head again, “in your face I seem to +read some trouble of mind. When you came in I read it, and that was why +I addressed you at once. For in unfolding to you the story of my life, I +do not wish to make myself a laughing-stock before these idle listeners, +who indeed know all about it already, but I am looking for a man +of feeling and education. Know then that my wife was educated in a +high-class school for the daughters of noblemen, and on leaving she +danced the shawl dance before the governor and other personages for +which she was presented with a gold medal and a certificate of merit. +The medal... well, the medal of course was sold--long ago, hm... but the +certificate of merit is in her trunk still and not long ago she showed +it to our landlady. And although she is most continually on bad terms +with the landlady, yet she wanted to tell someone or other of her past +honours and of the happy days that are gone. I don’t condemn her for +it, I don’t blame her, for the one thing left her is recollection of +the past, and all the rest is dust and ashes. Yes, yes, she is a lady +of spirit, proud and determined. She scrubs the floors herself and has +nothing but black bread to eat, but won’t allow herself to be treated +with disrespect. That’s why she would not overlook Mr. Lebeziatnikov’s +rudeness to her, and so when he gave her a beating for it, she took to +her bed more from the hurt to her feelings than from the blows. She was +a widow when I married her, with three children, one smaller than the +other. She married her first husband, an infantry officer, for love, and +ran away with him from her father’s house. She was exceedingly fond of +her husband; but he gave way to cards, got into trouble and with that he +died. He used to beat her at the end: and although she paid him back, of +which I have authentic documentary evidence, to this day she speaks of +him with tears and she throws him up to me; and I am glad, I am glad +that, though only in imagination, she should think of herself as having +once been happy.... And she was left at his death with three children in +a wild and remote district where I happened to be at the time; and she +was left in such hopeless poverty that, although I have seen many ups +and downs of all sort, I don’t feel equal to describing it even. Her +relations had all thrown her off. And she was proud, too, excessively +proud.... And then, honoured sir, and then, I, being at the time a +widower, with a daughter of fourteen left me by my first wife, offered +her my hand, for I could not bear the sight of such suffering. You can +judge the extremity of her calamities, that she, a woman of education +and culture and distinguished family, should have consented to be my +wife. But she did! Weeping and sobbing and wringing her hands, she +married me! For she had nowhere to turn! Do you understand, sir, do you +understand what it means when you have absolutely nowhere to turn? No, +that you don’t understand yet.... And for a whole year, I performed +my duties conscientiously and faithfully, and did not touch this” (he +tapped the jug with his finger), “for I have feelings. But even so, I +could not please her; and then I lost my place too, and that through no +fault of mine but through changes in the office; and then I did touch +it!... It will be a year and a half ago soon since we found ourselves at +last after many wanderings and numerous calamities in this magnificent +capital, adorned with innumerable monuments. Here I obtained a +situation.... I obtained it and I lost it again. Do you understand? This +time it was through my own fault I lost it: for my weakness had come +out.... We have now part of a room at Amalia Fyodorovna Lippevechsel’s; +and what we live upon and what we pay our rent with, I could not say. +There are a lot of people living there besides ourselves. Dirt and +disorder, a perfect Bedlam... hm... yes... And meanwhile my daughter by +my first wife has grown up; and what my daughter has had to put up with +from her step-mother whilst she was growing up, I won’t speak of. For, +though Katerina Ivanovna is full of generous feelings, she is a spirited +lady, irritable and short-tempered.... Yes. But it’s no use going over +that! Sonia, as you may well fancy, has had no education. I did make an +effort four years ago to give her a course of geography and universal +history, but as I was not very well up in those subjects myself and we +had no suitable books, and what books we had... hm, anyway we have not +even those now, so all our instruction came to an end. We stopped at +Cyrus of Persia. Since she has attained years of maturity, she has read +other books of romantic tendency and of late she had read with great +interest a book she got through Mr. Lebeziatnikov, Lewes’ Physiology--do +you know it?--and even recounted extracts from it to us: and that’s the +whole of her education. And now may I venture to address you, honoured +sir, on my own account with a private question. Do you suppose that +a respectable poor girl can earn much by honest work? Not fifteen +farthings a day can she earn, if she is respectable and has no special +talent and that without putting her work down for an instant! And what’s +more, Ivan Ivanitch Klopstock the civil counsellor--have you heard of +him?--has not to this day paid her for the half-dozen linen shirts she +made him and drove her roughly away, stamping and reviling her, on the +pretext that the shirt collars were not made like the pattern and were +put in askew. And there are the little ones hungry.... And Katerina +Ivanovna walking up and down and wringing her hands, her cheeks flushed +red, as they always are in that disease: ‘Here you live with us,’ says +she, ‘you eat and drink and are kept warm and you do nothing to help.’ +And much she gets to eat and drink when there is not a crust for the +little ones for three days! I was lying at the time... well, what of +it! I was lying drunk and I heard my Sonia speaking (she is a gentle +creature with a soft little voice... fair hair and such a pale, thin +little face). She said: ‘Katerina Ivanovna, am I really to do a thing +like that?’ And Darya Frantsovna, a woman of evil character and very +well known to the police, had two or three times tried to get at her +through the landlady. ‘And why not?’ said Katerina Ivanovna with a jeer, +‘you are something mighty precious to be so careful of!’ But don’t blame +her, don’t blame her, honoured sir, don’t blame her! She was not herself +when she spoke, but driven to distraction by her illness and the crying +of the hungry children; and it was said more to wound her than anything +else.... For that’s Katerina Ivanovna’s character, and when children +cry, even from hunger, she falls to beating them at once. At six o’clock +I saw Sonia get up, put on her kerchief and her cape, and go out of the +room and about nine o’clock she came back. She walked straight up to +Katerina Ivanovna and she laid thirty roubles on the table before her +in silence. She did not utter a word, she did not even look at her, she +simply picked up our big green _drap de dames_ shawl (we have a shawl, +made of _drap de dames_), put it over her head and face and lay down +on the bed with her face to the wall; only her little shoulders and her +body kept shuddering.... And I went on lying there, just as before.... +And then I saw, young man, I saw Katerina Ivanovna, in the same silence +go up to Sonia’s little bed; she was on her knees all the evening +kissing Sonia’s feet, and would not get up, and then they both fell +asleep in each other’s arms... together, together... yes... and I... lay +drunk.” + +Marmeladov stopped short, as though his voice had failed him. Then he +hurriedly filled his glass, drank, and cleared his throat. + +“Since then, sir,” he went on after a brief pause--“Since then, owing +to an unfortunate occurrence and through information given by +evil-intentioned persons--in all which Darya Frantsovna took a +leading part on the pretext that she had been treated with want of +respect--since then my daughter Sofya Semyonovna has been forced to take +a yellow ticket, and owing to that she is unable to go on living with +us. For our landlady, Amalia Fyodorovna would not hear of it (though +she had backed up Darya Frantsovna before) and Mr. Lebeziatnikov too... +hm.... All the trouble between him and Katerina Ivanovna was on Sonia’s +account. At first he was for making up to Sonia himself and then all of +a sudden he stood on his dignity: ‘how,’ said he, ‘can a highly educated +man like me live in the same rooms with a girl like that?’ And Katerina +Ivanovna would not let it pass, she stood up for her... and so that’s +how it happened. And Sonia comes to us now, mostly after dark; she +comforts Katerina Ivanovna and gives her all she can.... She has a room +at the Kapernaumovs’ the tailors, she lodges with them; Kapernaumov is +a lame man with a cleft palate and all of his numerous family have cleft +palates too. And his wife, too, has a cleft palate. They all live in one +room, but Sonia has her own, partitioned off.... Hm... yes... very poor +people and all with cleft palates... yes. Then I got up in the morning, +and put on my rags, lifted up my hands to heaven and set off to his +excellency Ivan Afanasyvitch. His excellency Ivan Afanasyvitch, do you +know him? No? Well, then, it’s a man of God you don’t know. He is wax... +wax before the face of the Lord; even as wax melteth!... His eyes were +dim when he heard my story. ‘Marmeladov, once already you have +deceived my expectations... I’ll take you once more on my own +responsibility’--that’s what he said, ‘remember,’ he said, ‘and now you +can go.’ I kissed the dust at his feet--in thought only, for in reality +he would not have allowed me to do it, being a statesman and a man of +modern political and enlightened ideas. I returned home, and when I +announced that I’d been taken back into the service and should receive a +salary, heavens, what a to-do there was!...” + +Marmeladov stopped again in violent excitement. At that moment a whole +party of revellers already drunk came in from the street, and the sounds +of a hired concertina and the cracked piping voice of a child of seven +singing “The Hamlet” were heard in the entry. The room was filled with +noise. The tavern-keeper and the boys were busy with the new-comers. +Marmeladov paying no attention to the new arrivals continued his story. +He appeared by now to be extremely weak, but as he became more and more +drunk, he became more and more talkative. The recollection of his +recent success in getting the situation seemed to revive him, and was +positively reflected in a sort of radiance on his face. Raskolnikov +listened attentively. + +“That was five weeks ago, sir. Yes.... As soon as Katerina Ivanovna +and Sonia heard of it, mercy on us, it was as though I stepped into the +kingdom of Heaven. It used to be: you can lie like a beast, nothing but +abuse. Now they were walking on tiptoe, hushing the children. ‘Semyon +Zaharovitch is tired with his work at the office, he is resting, shh!’ +They made me coffee before I went to work and boiled cream for me! They +began to get real cream for me, do you hear that? And how they managed +to get together the money for a decent outfit--eleven roubles, fifty +copecks, I can’t guess. Boots, cotton shirt-fronts--most magnificent, +a uniform, they got up all in splendid style, for eleven roubles and +a half. The first morning I came back from the office I found Katerina +Ivanovna had cooked two courses for dinner--soup and salt meat with +horse radish--which we had never dreamed of till then. She had not any +dresses... none at all, but she got herself up as though she were going +on a visit; and not that she’d anything to do it with, she smartened +herself up with nothing at all, she’d done her hair nicely, put on a +clean collar of some sort, cuffs, and there she was, quite a different +person, she was younger and better looking. Sonia, my little darling, +had only helped with money ‘for the time,’ she said, ‘it won’t do for me +to come and see you too often. After dark maybe when no one can see.’ Do +you hear, do you hear? I lay down for a nap after dinner and what do you +think: though Katerina Ivanovna had quarrelled to the last degree with +our landlady Amalia Fyodorovna only a week before, she could not +resist then asking her in to coffee. For two hours they were sitting, +whispering together. ‘Semyon Zaharovitch is in the service again, +now, and receiving a salary,’ says she, ‘and he went himself to his +excellency and his excellency himself came out to him, made all the +others wait and led Semyon Zaharovitch by the hand before everybody into +his study.’ Do you hear, do you hear? ‘To be sure,’ says he, ‘Semyon +Zaharovitch, remembering your past services,’ says he, ‘and in spite +of your propensity to that foolish weakness, since you promise now and +since moreover we’ve got on badly without you,’ (do you hear, do you +hear;) ‘and so,’ says he, ‘I rely now on your word as a gentleman.’ And +all that, let me tell you, she has simply made up for herself, and not +simply out of wantonness, for the sake of bragging; no, she believes it +all herself, she amuses herself with her own fancies, upon my word she +does! And I don’t blame her for it, no, I don’t blame her!... Six days +ago when I brought her my first earnings in full--twenty-three roubles +forty copecks altogether--she called me her poppet: ‘poppet,’ said she, +‘my little poppet.’ And when we were by ourselves, you understand? +You would not think me a beauty, you would not think much of me as a +husband, would you?... Well, she pinched my cheek, ‘my little poppet,’ +said she.” + +Marmeladov broke off, tried to smile, but suddenly his chin began +to twitch. He controlled himself however. The tavern, the degraded +appearance of the man, the five nights in the hay barge, and the pot of +spirits, and yet this poignant love for his wife and children bewildered +his listener. Raskolnikov listened intently but with a sick sensation. +He felt vexed that he had come here. + +“Honoured sir, honoured sir,” cried Marmeladov recovering himself--“Oh, +sir, perhaps all this seems a laughing matter to you, as it does to +others, and perhaps I am only worrying you with the stupidity of all the +trivial details of my home life, but it is not a laughing matter to me. +For I can feel it all.... And the whole of that heavenly day of my life +and the whole of that evening I passed in fleeting dreams of how I would +arrange it all, and how I would dress all the children, and how I should +give her rest, and how I should rescue my own daughter from dishonour +and restore her to the bosom of her family.... And a great deal more.... +Quite excusable, sir. Well, then, sir” (Marmeladov suddenly gave a sort +of start, raised his head and gazed intently at his listener) “well, on +the very next day after all those dreams, that is to say, exactly five +days ago, in the evening, by a cunning trick, like a thief in the night, +I stole from Katerina Ivanovna the key of her box, took out what was +left of my earnings, how much it was I have forgotten, and now look +at me, all of you! It’s the fifth day since I left home, and they are +looking for me there and it’s the end of my employment, and my uniform +is lying in a tavern on the Egyptian bridge. I exchanged it for the +garments I have on... and it’s the end of everything!” + +Marmeladov struck his forehead with his fist, clenched his teeth, closed +his eyes and leaned heavily with his elbow on the table. But a minute +later his face suddenly changed and with a certain assumed slyness and +affectation of bravado, he glanced at Raskolnikov, laughed and said: + +“This morning I went to see Sonia, I went to ask her for a pick-me-up! +He-he-he!” + +“You don’t say she gave it to you?” cried one of the new-comers; he +shouted the words and went off into a guffaw. + +“This very quart was bought with her money,” Marmeladov declared, +addressing himself exclusively to Raskolnikov. “Thirty copecks she gave +me with her own hands, her last, all she had, as I saw.... She said +nothing, she only looked at me without a word.... Not on earth, but up +yonder... they grieve over men, they weep, but they don’t blame them, +they don’t blame them! But it hurts more, it hurts more when they don’t +blame! Thirty copecks yes! And maybe she needs them now, eh? What do +you think, my dear sir? For now she’s got to keep up her appearance. It +costs money, that smartness, that special smartness, you know? Do you +understand? And there’s pomatum, too, you see, she must have things; +petticoats, starched ones, shoes, too, real jaunty ones to show off her +foot when she has to step over a puddle. Do you understand, sir, do you +understand what all that smartness means? And here I, her own father, +here I took thirty copecks of that money for a drink! And I am drinking +it! And I have already drunk it! Come, who will have pity on a man like +me, eh? Are you sorry for me, sir, or not? Tell me, sir, are you sorry +or not? He-he-he!” + +He would have filled his glass, but there was no drink left. The pot was +empty. + +“What are you to be pitied for?” shouted the tavern-keeper who was again +near them. + +Shouts of laughter and even oaths followed. The laughter and the oaths +came from those who were listening and also from those who had heard +nothing but were simply looking at the figure of the discharged +government clerk. + +“To be pitied! Why am I to be pitied?” Marmeladov suddenly declaimed, +standing up with his arm outstretched, as though he had been only +waiting for that question. + +“Why am I to be pitied, you say? Yes! there’s nothing to pity me for! I +ought to be crucified, crucified on a cross, not pitied! Crucify me, +oh judge, crucify me but pity me! And then I will go of myself to be +crucified, for it’s not merry-making I seek but tears and tribulation!... +Do you suppose, you that sell, that this pint of yours has been +sweet to me? It was tribulation I sought at the bottom of it, tears and +tribulation, and have found it, and I have tasted it; but He will pity +us Who has had pity on all men, Who has understood all men and all +things, He is the One, He too is the judge. He will come in that day +and He will ask: ‘Where is the daughter who gave herself for her cross, +consumptive step-mother and for the little children of another? Where is +the daughter who had pity upon the filthy drunkard, her earthly father, +undismayed by his beastliness?’ And He will say, ‘Come to me! I have +already forgiven thee once.... I have forgiven thee once.... Thy sins +which are many are forgiven thee for thou hast loved much....’ And he +will forgive my Sonia, He will forgive, I know it... I felt it in my +heart when I was with her just now! And He will judge and will forgive +all, the good and the evil, the wise and the meek.... And when He has +done with all of them, then He will summon us. ‘You too come forth,’ +He will say, ‘Come forth ye drunkards, come forth, ye weak ones, come +forth, ye children of shame!’ And we shall all come forth, without shame +and shall stand before him. And He will say unto us, ‘Ye are swine, made +in the Image of the Beast and with his mark; but come ye also!’ And the +wise ones and those of understanding will say, ‘Oh Lord, why dost Thou +receive these men?’ And He will say, ‘This is why I receive them, oh ye +wise, this is why I receive them, oh ye of understanding, that not one +of them believed himself to be worthy of this.’ And He will hold out His +hands to us and we shall fall down before him... and we shall weep... +and we shall understand all things! Then we shall understand all!... and +all will understand, Katerina Ivanovna even... she will understand.... +Lord, Thy kingdom come!” And he sank down on the bench exhausted, and +helpless, looking at no one, apparently oblivious of his surroundings +and plunged in deep thought. His words had created a certain impression; +there was a moment of silence; but soon laughter and oaths were heard +again. + +“That’s his notion!” + +“Talked himself silly!” + +“A fine clerk he is!” + +And so on, and so on. + +“Let us go, sir,” said Marmeladov all at once, raising his head and +addressing Raskolnikov--“come along with me... Kozel’s house, looking +into the yard. I’m going to Katerina Ivanovna--time I did.” + +Raskolnikov had for some time been wanting to go and he had meant to +help him. Marmeladov was much unsteadier on his legs than in his speech +and leaned heavily on the young man. They had two or three hundred +paces to go. The drunken man was more and more overcome by dismay and +confusion as they drew nearer the house. + +“It’s not Katerina Ivanovna I am afraid of now,” he muttered in +agitation--“and that she will begin pulling my hair. What does my hair +matter! Bother my hair! That’s what I say! Indeed it will be better if +she does begin pulling it, that’s not what I am afraid of... it’s her +eyes I am afraid of... yes, her eyes... the red on her cheeks, too, +frightens me... and her breathing too.... Have you noticed how people +in that disease breathe... when they are excited? I am frightened of +the children’s crying, too.... For if Sonia has not taken them food... +I don’t know what’s happened! I don’t know! But blows I am not afraid +of.... Know, sir, that such blows are not a pain to me, but even an +enjoyment. In fact I can’t get on without it.... It’s better so. Let +her strike me, it relieves her heart... it’s better so... There is the +house. The house of Kozel, the cabinet-maker... a German, well-to-do. +Lead the way!” + +They went in from the yard and up to the fourth storey. The staircase +got darker and darker as they went up. It was nearly eleven o’clock +and although in summer in Petersburg there is no real night, yet it was +quite dark at the top of the stairs. + +A grimy little door at the very top of the stairs stood ajar. A very +poor-looking room about ten paces long was lighted up by a candle-end; +the whole of it was visible from the entrance. It was all in disorder, +littered up with rags of all sorts, especially children’s garments. +Across the furthest corner was stretched a ragged sheet. Behind it +probably was the bed. There was nothing in the room except two chairs +and a sofa covered with American leather, full of holes, before which +stood an old deal kitchen-table, unpainted and uncovered. At the edge +of the table stood a smoldering tallow-candle in an iron candlestick. It +appeared that the family had a room to themselves, not part of a room, +but their room was practically a passage. The door leading to the other +rooms, or rather cupboards, into which Amalia Lippevechsel’s flat was +divided stood half open, and there was shouting, uproar and laughter +within. People seemed to be playing cards and drinking tea there. Words +of the most unceremonious kind flew out from time to time. + +Raskolnikov recognised Katerina Ivanovna at once. She was a rather tall, +slim and graceful woman, terribly emaciated, with magnificent dark brown +hair and with a hectic flush in her cheeks. She was pacing up and down +in her little room, pressing her hands against her chest; her lips +were parched and her breathing came in nervous broken gasps. Her eyes +glittered as in fever and looked about with a harsh immovable stare. And +that consumptive and excited face with the last flickering light of the +candle-end playing upon it made a sickening impression. She seemed to +Raskolnikov about thirty years old and was certainly a strange wife for +Marmeladov.... She had not heard them and did not notice them coming in. +She seemed to be lost in thought, hearing and seeing nothing. The room +was close, but she had not opened the window; a stench rose from the +staircase, but the door on to the stairs was not closed. From the inner +rooms clouds of tobacco smoke floated in, she kept coughing, but did not +close the door. The youngest child, a girl of six, was asleep, sitting +curled up on the floor with her head on the sofa. A boy a year older +stood crying and shaking in the corner, probably he had just had a +beating. Beside him stood a girl of nine years old, tall and thin, +wearing a thin and ragged chemise with an ancient cashmere pelisse flung +over her bare shoulders, long outgrown and barely reaching her knees. +Her arm, as thin as a stick, was round her brother’s neck. She was +trying to comfort him, whispering something to him, and doing all she +could to keep him from whimpering again. At the same time her large +dark eyes, which looked larger still from the thinness of her frightened +face, were watching her mother with alarm. Marmeladov did not enter the +door, but dropped on his knees in the very doorway, pushing Raskolnikov +in front of him. The woman seeing a stranger stopped indifferently +facing him, coming to herself for a moment and apparently wondering what +he had come for. But evidently she decided that he was going into +the next room, as he had to pass through hers to get there. Taking no +further notice of him, she walked towards the outer door to close it +and uttered a sudden scream on seeing her husband on his knees in the +doorway. + +“Ah!” she cried out in a frenzy, “he has come back! The criminal! the +monster!... And where is the money? What’s in your pocket, show me! And +your clothes are all different! Where are your clothes? Where is the +money! Speak!” + +And she fell to searching him. Marmeladov submissively and obediently +held up both arms to facilitate the search. Not a farthing was there. + +“Where is the money?” she cried--“Mercy on us, can he have drunk it all? +There were twelve silver roubles left in the chest!” and in a fury +she seized him by the hair and dragged him into the room. Marmeladov +seconded her efforts by meekly crawling along on his knees. + +“And this is a consolation to me! This does not hurt me, but is a +positive con-so-la-tion, ho-nou-red sir,” he called out, shaken to and +fro by his hair and even once striking the ground with his forehead. +The child asleep on the floor woke up, and began to cry. The boy in the +corner losing all control began trembling and screaming and rushed +to his sister in violent terror, almost in a fit. The eldest girl was +shaking like a leaf. + +“He’s drunk it! he’s drunk it all,” the poor woman screamed in +despair--“and his clothes are gone! And they are hungry, hungry!”--and +wringing her hands she pointed to the children. “Oh, accursed life! +And you, are you not ashamed?”--she pounced all at once upon +Raskolnikov--“from the tavern! Have you been drinking with him? You have +been drinking with him, too! Go away!” + +The young man was hastening away without uttering a word. The inner door +was thrown wide open and inquisitive faces were peering in at it. Coarse +laughing faces with pipes and cigarettes and heads wearing caps thrust +themselves in at the doorway. Further in could be seen figures in +dressing gowns flung open, in costumes of unseemly scantiness, some of +them with cards in their hands. They were particularly diverted, when +Marmeladov, dragged about by his hair, shouted that it was a consolation +to him. They even began to come into the room; at last a sinister shrill +outcry was heard: this came from Amalia Lippevechsel herself pushing her +way amongst them and trying to restore order after her own fashion and +for the hundredth time to frighten the poor woman by ordering her +with coarse abuse to clear out of the room next day. As he went out, +Raskolnikov had time to put his hand into his pocket, to snatch up the +coppers he had received in exchange for his rouble in the tavern and to +lay them unnoticed on the window. Afterwards on the stairs, he changed +his mind and would have gone back. + +“What a stupid thing I’ve done,” he thought to himself, “they have Sonia +and I want it myself.” But reflecting that it would be impossible to +take it back now and that in any case he would not have taken it, he +dismissed it with a wave of his hand and went back to his lodging. +“Sonia wants pomatum too,” he said as he walked along the street, and he +laughed malignantly--“such smartness costs money.... Hm! And maybe Sonia +herself will be bankrupt to-day, for there is always a risk, hunting +big game... digging for gold... then they would all be without a crust +to-morrow except for my money. Hurrah for Sonia! What a mine they’ve dug +there! And they’re making the most of it! Yes, they are making the most +of it! They’ve wept over it and grown used to it. Man grows used to +everything, the scoundrel!” + +He sank into thought. + +“And what if I am wrong,” he cried suddenly after a moment’s thought. +“What if man is not really a scoundrel, man in general, I mean, the +whole race of mankind--then all the rest is prejudice, simply artificial +terrors and there are no barriers and it’s all as it should be.” + + + +CHAPTER III + +He waked up late next day after a broken sleep. But his sleep had not +refreshed him; he waked up bilious, irritable, ill-tempered, and looked +with hatred at his room. It was a tiny cupboard of a room about six +paces in length. It had a poverty-stricken appearance with its dusty +yellow paper peeling off the walls, and it was so low-pitched that a man +of more than average height was ill at ease in it and felt every moment +that he would knock his head against the ceiling. The furniture was in +keeping with the room: there were three old chairs, rather rickety; a +painted table in the corner on which lay a few manuscripts and books; +the dust that lay thick upon them showed that they had been long +untouched. A big clumsy sofa occupied almost the whole of one wall and +half the floor space of the room; it was once covered with chintz, but +was now in rags and served Raskolnikov as a bed. Often he went to sleep +on it, as he was, without undressing, without sheets, wrapped in his old +student’s overcoat, with his head on one little pillow, under which he +heaped up all the linen he had, clean and dirty, by way of a bolster. A +little table stood in front of the sofa. + +It would have been difficult to sink to a lower ebb of disorder, but to +Raskolnikov in his present state of mind this was positively agreeable. +He had got completely away from everyone, like a tortoise in its shell, +and even the sight of a servant girl who had to wait upon him and looked +sometimes into his room made him writhe with nervous irritation. He was +in the condition that overtakes some monomaniacs entirely concentrated +upon one thing. His landlady had for the last fortnight given up sending +him in meals, and he had not yet thought of expostulating with her, +though he went without his dinner. Nastasya, the cook and only servant, +was rather pleased at the lodger’s mood and had entirely given up +sweeping and doing his room, only once a week or so she would stray into +his room with a broom. She waked him up that day. + +“Get up, why are you asleep?” she called to him. “It’s past nine, I have +brought you some tea; will you have a cup? I should think you’re fairly +starving?” + +Raskolnikov opened his eyes, started and recognised Nastasya. + +“From the landlady, eh?” he asked, slowly and with a sickly face sitting +up on the sofa. + +“From the landlady, indeed!” + +She set before him her own cracked teapot full of weak and stale tea and +laid two yellow lumps of sugar by the side of it. + +“Here, Nastasya, take it please,” he said, fumbling in his pocket (for +he had slept in his clothes) and taking out a handful of coppers--“run +and buy me a loaf. And get me a little sausage, the cheapest, at the +pork-butcher’s.” + +“The loaf I’ll fetch you this very minute, but wouldn’t you rather have +some cabbage soup instead of sausage? It’s capital soup, yesterday’s. I +saved it for you yesterday, but you came in late. It’s fine soup.” + +When the soup had been brought, and he had begun upon it, Nastasya +sat down beside him on the sofa and began chatting. She was a country +peasant-woman and a very talkative one. + +“Praskovya Pavlovna means to complain to the police about you,” she +said. + +He scowled. + +“To the police? What does she want?” + +“You don’t pay her money and you won’t turn out of the room. That’s what +she wants, to be sure.” + +“The devil, that’s the last straw,” he muttered, grinding his teeth, +“no, that would not suit me... just now. She is a fool,” he added aloud. +“I’ll go and talk to her to-day.” + +“Fool she is and no mistake, just as I am. But why, if you are so +clever, do you lie here like a sack and have nothing to show for it? One +time you used to go out, you say, to teach children. But why is it you +do nothing now?” + +“I am doing...” Raskolnikov began sullenly and reluctantly. + +“What are you doing?” + +“Work...” + +“What sort of work?” + +“I am thinking,” he answered seriously after a pause. + +Nastasya was overcome with a fit of laughter. She was given to laughter +and when anything amused her, she laughed inaudibly, quivering and +shaking all over till she felt ill. + +“And have you made much money by your thinking?” she managed to +articulate at last. + +“One can’t go out to give lessons without boots. And I’m sick of it.” + +“Don’t quarrel with your bread and butter.” + +“They pay so little for lessons. What’s the use of a few coppers?” he +answered, reluctantly, as though replying to his own thought. + +“And you want to get a fortune all at once?” + +He looked at her strangely. + +“Yes, I want a fortune,” he answered firmly, after a brief pause. + +“Don’t be in such a hurry, you quite frighten me! Shall I get you the +loaf or not?” + +“As you please.” + +“Ah, I forgot! A letter came for you yesterday when you were out.” + +“A letter? for me! from whom?” + +“I can’t say. I gave three copecks of my own to the postman for it. Will +you pay me back?” + +“Then bring it to me, for God’s sake, bring it,” cried Raskolnikov +greatly excited--“good God!” + +A minute later the letter was brought him. That was it: from his mother, +from the province of R----. He turned pale when he took it. It was a +long while since he had received a letter, but another feeling also +suddenly stabbed his heart. + +“Nastasya, leave me alone, for goodness’ sake; here are your three +copecks, but for goodness’ sake, make haste and go!” + +The letter was quivering in his hand; he did not want to open it in her +presence; he wanted to be left _alone_ with this letter. When Nastasya +had gone out, he lifted it quickly to his lips and kissed it; then he +gazed intently at the address, the small, sloping handwriting, so dear +and familiar, of the mother who had once taught him to read and write. +He delayed; he seemed almost afraid of something. At last he opened it; +it was a thick heavy letter, weighing over two ounces, two large sheets +of note paper were covered with very small handwriting. + +“My dear Rodya,” wrote his mother--“it’s two months since I last had a +talk with you by letter which has distressed me and even kept me +awake at night, thinking. But I am sure you will not blame me for my +inevitable silence. You know how I love you; you are all we have to look +to, Dounia and I, you are our all, our one hope, our one stay. What a +grief it was to me when I heard that you had given up the university +some months ago, for want of means to keep yourself and that you had +lost your lessons and your other work! How could I help you out of my +hundred and twenty roubles a year pension? The fifteen roubles I sent +you four months ago I borrowed, as you know, on security of my pension, +from Vassily Ivanovitch Vahrushin a merchant of this town. He is a +kind-hearted man and was a friend of your father’s too. But having given +him the right to receive the pension, I had to wait till the debt was +paid off and that is only just done, so that I’ve been unable to send +you anything all this time. But now, thank God, I believe I shall +be able to send you something more and in fact we may congratulate +ourselves on our good fortune now, of which I hasten to inform you. In +the first place, would you have guessed, dear Rodya, that your sister +has been living with me for the last six weeks and we shall not be +separated in the future. Thank God, her sufferings are over, but I will +tell you everything in order, so that you may know just how everything +has happened and all that we have hitherto concealed from you. When you +wrote to me two months ago that you had heard that Dounia had a great +deal to put up with in the Svidrigaïlovs’ house, when you wrote that +and asked me to tell you all about it--what could I write in answer to +you? If I had written the whole truth to you, I dare say you would have +thrown up everything and have come to us, even if you had to walk all +the way, for I know your character and your feelings, and you would not +let your sister be insulted. I was in despair myself, but what could I +do? And, besides, I did not know the whole truth myself then. What +made it all so difficult was that Dounia received a hundred roubles +in advance when she took the place as governess in their family, on +condition of part of her salary being deducted every month, and so it +was impossible to throw up the situation without repaying the debt. +This sum (now I can explain it all to you, my precious Rodya) she took +chiefly in order to send you sixty roubles, which you needed so terribly +then and which you received from us last year. We deceived you then, +writing that this money came from Dounia’s savings, but that was not +so, and now I tell you all about it, because, thank God, things have +suddenly changed for the better, and that you may know how Dounia loves +you and what a heart she has. At first indeed Mr. Svidrigaïlov treated +her very rudely and used to make disrespectful and jeering remarks at +table.... But I don’t want to go into all those painful details, so as +not to worry you for nothing when it is now all over. In short, in spite +of the kind and generous behaviour of Marfa Petrovna, Mr. Svidrigaïlov’s +wife, and all the rest of the household, Dounia had a very hard time, +especially when Mr. Svidrigaïlov, relapsing into his old regimental +habits, was under the influence of Bacchus. And how do you think it +was all explained later on? Would you believe that the crazy fellow had +conceived a passion for Dounia from the beginning, but had concealed +it under a show of rudeness and contempt. Possibly he was ashamed and +horrified himself at his own flighty hopes, considering his years and +his being the father of a family; and that made him angry with Dounia. +And possibly, too, he hoped by his rude and sneering behaviour to hide +the truth from others. But at last he lost all control and had the face +to make Dounia an open and shameful proposal, promising her all sorts of +inducements and offering, besides, to throw up everything and take her +to another estate of his, or even abroad. You can imagine all she went +through! To leave her situation at once was impossible not only on +account of the money debt, but also to spare the feelings of Marfa +Petrovna, whose suspicions would have been aroused: and then Dounia +would have been the cause of a rupture in the family. And it would +have meant a terrible scandal for Dounia too; that would have been +inevitable. There were various other reasons owing to which Dounia could +not hope to escape from that awful house for another six weeks. You know +Dounia, of course; you know how clever she is and what a strong will she +has. Dounia can endure a great deal and even in the most difficult cases +she has the fortitude to maintain her firmness. She did not even write +to me about everything for fear of upsetting me, although we were +constantly in communication. It all ended very unexpectedly. Marfa +Petrovna accidentally overheard her husband imploring Dounia in the +garden, and, putting quite a wrong interpretation on the position, threw +the blame upon her, believing her to be the cause of it all. An awful +scene took place between them on the spot in the garden; Marfa Petrovna +went so far as to strike Dounia, refused to hear anything and was +shouting at her for a whole hour and then gave orders that Dounia should +be packed off at once to me in a plain peasant’s cart, into which they +flung all her things, her linen and her clothes, all pell-mell, without +folding it up and packing it. And a heavy shower of rain came on, too, +and Dounia, insulted and put to shame, had to drive with a peasant in an +open cart all the seventeen versts into town. Only think now what answer +could I have sent to the letter I received from you two months ago and +what could I have written? I was in despair; I dared not write to +you the truth because you would have been very unhappy, mortified +and indignant, and yet what could you do? You could only perhaps ruin +yourself, and, besides, Dounia would not allow it; and fill up my letter +with trifles when my heart was so full of sorrow, I could not. For a +whole month the town was full of gossip about this scandal, and it came +to such a pass that Dounia and I dared not even go to church on account +of the contemptuous looks, whispers, and even remarks made aloud about +us. All our acquaintances avoided us, nobody even bowed to us in the +street, and I learnt that some shopmen and clerks were intending to +insult us in a shameful way, smearing the gates of our house with pitch, +so that the landlord began to tell us we must leave. All this was set +going by Marfa Petrovna who managed to slander Dounia and throw dirt at +her in every family. She knows everyone in the neighbourhood, and that +month she was continually coming into the town, and as she is +rather talkative and fond of gossiping about her family affairs and +particularly of complaining to all and each of her husband--which is not +at all right--so in a short time she had spread her story not only in +the town, but over the whole surrounding district. It made me ill, but +Dounia bore it better than I did, and if only you could have seen how +she endured it all and tried to comfort me and cheer me up! She is +an angel! But by God’s mercy, our sufferings were cut short: Mr. +Svidrigaïlov returned to his senses and repented and, probably +feeling sorry for Dounia, he laid before Marfa Petrovna a complete and +unmistakable proof of Dounia’s innocence, in the form of a letter Dounia +had been forced to write and give to him, before Marfa Petrovna +came upon them in the garden. This letter, which remained in Mr. +Svidrigaïlov’s hands after her departure, she had written to refuse +personal explanations and secret interviews, for which he was entreating +her. In that letter she reproached him with great heat and indignation +for the baseness of his behaviour in regard to Marfa Petrovna, reminding +him that he was the father and head of a family and telling him how +infamous it was of him to torment and make unhappy a defenceless girl, +unhappy enough already. Indeed, dear Rodya, the letter was so nobly and +touchingly written that I sobbed when I read it and to this day I cannot +read it without tears. Moreover, the evidence of the servants, too, +cleared Dounia’s reputation; they had seen and known a great deal more +than Mr. Svidrigaïlov had himself supposed--as indeed is always the case +with servants. Marfa Petrovna was completely taken aback, and ‘again +crushed’ as she said herself to us, but she was completely convinced of +Dounia’s innocence. The very next day, being Sunday, she went straight +to the Cathedral, knelt down and prayed with tears to Our Lady to give +her strength to bear this new trial and to do her duty. Then she +came straight from the Cathedral to us, told us the whole story, wept +bitterly and, fully penitent, she embraced Dounia and besought her to +forgive her. The same morning without any delay, she went round to all +the houses in the town and everywhere, shedding tears, she asserted in +the most flattering terms Dounia’s innocence and the nobility of +her feelings and her behavior. What was more, she showed and read to +everyone the letter in Dounia’s own handwriting to Mr. Svidrigaïlov and +even allowed them to take copies of it--which I must say I think was +superfluous. In this way she was busy for several days in driving about +the whole town, because some people had taken offence through precedence +having been given to others. And therefore they had to take turns, so +that in every house she was expected before she arrived, and everyone +knew that on such and such a day Marfa Petrovna would be reading the +letter in such and such a place and people assembled for every reading +of it, even many who had heard it several times already both in their +own houses and in other people’s. In my opinion a great deal, a very +great deal of all this was unnecessary; but that’s Marfa Petrovna’s +character. Anyway she succeeded in completely re-establishing Dounia’s +reputation and the whole ignominy of this affair rested as an indelible +disgrace upon her husband, as the only person to blame, so that I really +began to feel sorry for him; it was really treating the crazy fellow too +harshly. Dounia was at once asked to give lessons in several families, +but she refused. All of a sudden everyone began to treat her with marked +respect and all this did much to bring about the event by which, one may +say, our whole fortunes are now transformed. You must know, dear Rodya, +that Dounia has a suitor and that she has already consented to marry +him. I hasten to tell you all about the matter, and though it has been +arranged without asking your consent, I think you will not be aggrieved +with me or with your sister on that account, for you will see that we +could not wait and put off our decision till we heard from you. And you +could not have judged all the facts without being on the spot. This +was how it happened. He is already of the rank of a counsellor, Pyotr +Petrovitch Luzhin, and is distantly related to Marfa Petrovna, who +has been very active in bringing the match about. It began with his +expressing through her his desire to make our acquaintance. He was +properly received, drank coffee with us and the very next day he sent +us a letter in which he very courteously made an offer and begged for a +speedy and decided answer. He is a very busy man and is in a great hurry +to get to Petersburg, so that every moment is precious to him. At first, +of course, we were greatly surprised, as it had all happened so quickly +and unexpectedly. We thought and talked it over the whole day. He is a +well-to-do man, to be depended upon, he has two posts in the government +and has already made his fortune. It is true that he is forty-five years +old, but he is of a fairly prepossessing appearance and might still be +thought attractive by women, and he is altogether a very respectable and +presentable man, only he seems a little morose and somewhat conceited. +But possibly that may only be the impression he makes at first sight. +And beware, dear Rodya, when he comes to Petersburg, as he shortly will +do, beware of judging him too hastily and severely, as your way is, if +there is anything you do not like in him at first sight. I give you this +warning, although I feel sure that he will make a favourable impression +upon you. Moreover, in order to understand any man one must be +deliberate and careful to avoid forming prejudices and mistaken ideas, +which are very difficult to correct and get over afterwards. And Pyotr +Petrovitch, judging by many indications, is a thoroughly estimable man. +At his first visit, indeed, he told us that he was a practical man, but +still he shares, as he expressed it, many of the convictions ‘of our +most rising generation’ and he is an opponent of all prejudices. He +said a good deal more, for he seems a little conceited and likes to be +listened to, but this is scarcely a vice. I, of course, understood very +little of it, but Dounia explained to me that, though he is not a man +of great education, he is clever and seems to be good-natured. You know +your sister’s character, Rodya. She is a resolute, sensible, patient and +generous girl, but she has a passionate heart, as I know very well. +Of course, there is no great love either on his side, or on hers, but +Dounia is a clever girl and has the heart of an angel, and will make +it her duty to make her husband happy who on his side will make her +happiness his care. Of that we have no good reason to doubt, though it +must be admitted the matter has been arranged in great haste. Besides he +is a man of great prudence and he will see, to be sure, of himself, that +his own happiness will be the more secure, the happier Dounia is with +him. And as for some defects of character, for some habits and even +certain differences of opinion--which indeed are inevitable even in +the happiest marriages--Dounia has said that, as regards all that, she +relies on herself, that there is nothing to be uneasy about, and +that she is ready to put up with a great deal, if only their future +relationship can be an honourable and straightforward one. He struck me, +for instance, at first, as rather abrupt, but that may well come +from his being an outspoken man, and that is no doubt how it is. For +instance, at his second visit, after he had received Dounia’s consent, +in the course of conversation, he declared that before making +Dounia’s acquaintance, he had made up his mind to marry a girl of +good reputation, without dowry and, above all, one who had experienced +poverty, because, as he explained, a man ought not to be indebted to his +wife, but that it is better for a wife to look upon her husband as her +benefactor. I must add that he expressed it more nicely and politely +than I have done, for I have forgotten his actual phrases and only +remember the meaning. And, besides, it was obviously not said of design, +but slipped out in the heat of conversation, so that he tried afterwards +to correct himself and smooth it over, but all the same it did strike +me as somewhat rude, and I said so afterwards to Dounia. But Dounia was +vexed, and answered that ‘words are not deeds,’ and that, of course, is +perfectly true. Dounia did not sleep all night before she made up +her mind, and, thinking that I was asleep, she got out of bed and was +walking up and down the room all night; at last she knelt down before +the ikon and prayed long and fervently and in the morning she told me +that she had decided. + +“I have mentioned already that Pyotr Petrovitch is just setting off for +Petersburg, where he has a great deal of business, and he wants to open +a legal bureau. He has been occupied for many years in conducting civil +and commercial litigation, and only the other day he won an important +case. He has to be in Petersburg because he has an important case before +the Senate. So, Rodya dear, he may be of the greatest use to you, in +every way indeed, and Dounia and I have agreed that from this very day +you could definitely enter upon your career and might consider that +your future is marked out and assured for you. Oh, if only this comes to +pass! This would be such a benefit that we could only look upon it as a +providential blessing. Dounia is dreaming of nothing else. We have even +ventured already to drop a few words on the subject to Pyotr Petrovitch. +He was cautious in his answer, and said that, of course, as he could not +get on without a secretary, it would be better to be paying a salary to +a relation than to a stranger, if only the former were fitted for the +duties (as though there could be doubt of your being fitted!) but then +he expressed doubts whether your studies at the university would leave +you time for work at his office. The matter dropped for the time, but +Dounia is thinking of nothing else now. She has been in a sort of fever +for the last few days, and has already made a regular plan for +your becoming in the end an associate and even a partner in Pyotr +Petrovitch’s business, which might well be, seeing that you are a +student of law. I am in complete agreement with her, Rodya, and share +all her plans and hopes, and think there is every probability of +realising them. And in spite of Pyotr Petrovitch’s evasiveness, very +natural at present (since he does not know you), Dounia is firmly +persuaded that she will gain everything by her good influence over her +future husband; this she is reckoning upon. Of course we are careful +not to talk of any of these more remote plans to Pyotr Petrovitch, +especially of your becoming his partner. He is a practical man and might +take this very coldly, it might all seem to him simply a day-dream. Nor +has either Dounia or I breathed a word to him of the great hopes we have +of his helping us to pay for your university studies; we have not spoken +of it in the first place, because it will come to pass of itself, +later on, and he will no doubt without wasting words offer to do it of +himself, (as though he could refuse Dounia that) the more readily since +you may by your own efforts become his right hand in the office, and +receive this assistance not as a charity, but as a salary earned by your +own work. Dounia wants to arrange it all like this and I quite agree +with her. And we have not spoken of our plans for another reason, that +is, because I particularly wanted you to feel on an equal footing when +you first meet him. When Dounia spoke to him with enthusiasm about +you, he answered that one could never judge of a man without seeing +him close, for oneself, and that he looked forward to forming his own +opinion when he makes your acquaintance. Do you know, my precious +Rodya, I think that perhaps for some reasons (nothing to do with Pyotr +Petrovitch though, simply for my own personal, perhaps old-womanish, +fancies) I should do better to go on living by myself, apart, than with +them, after the wedding. I am convinced that he will be generous and +delicate enough to invite me and to urge me to remain with my daughter +for the future, and if he has said nothing about it hitherto, it is +simply because it has been taken for granted; but I shall refuse. I have +noticed more than once in my life that husbands don’t quite get on with +their mothers-in-law, and I don’t want to be the least bit in anyone’s +way, and for my own sake, too, would rather be quite independent, so +long as I have a crust of bread of my own, and such children as you and +Dounia. If possible, I would settle somewhere near you, for the most +joyful piece of news, dear Rodya, I have kept for the end of my letter: +know then, my dear boy, that we may, perhaps, be all together in a +very short time and may embrace one another again after a separation of +almost three years! It is settled _for certain_ that Dounia and I are to +set off for Petersburg, exactly when I don’t know, but very, very soon, +possibly in a week. It all depends on Pyotr Petrovitch who will let us +know when he has had time to look round him in Petersburg. To suit his +own arrangements he is anxious to have the ceremony as soon as possible, +even before the fast of Our Lady, if it could be managed, or if that is +too soon to be ready, immediately after. Oh, with what happiness I shall +press you to my heart! Dounia is all excitement at the joyful thought +of seeing you, she said one day in joke that she would be ready to marry +Pyotr Petrovitch for that alone. She is an angel! She is not writing +anything to you now, and has only told me to write that she has so much, +so much to tell you that she is not going to take up her pen now, for +a few lines would tell you nothing, and it would only mean upsetting +herself; she bids me send you her love and innumerable kisses. But +although we shall be meeting so soon, perhaps I shall send you as much +money as I can in a day or two. Now that everyone has heard that Dounia +is to marry Pyotr Petrovitch, my credit has suddenly improved and I know +that Afanasy Ivanovitch will trust me now even to seventy-five roubles +on the security of my pension, so that perhaps I shall be able to send +you twenty-five or even thirty roubles. I would send you more, but I am +uneasy about our travelling expenses; for though Pyotr Petrovitch has +been so kind as to undertake part of the expenses of the journey, that +is to say, he has taken upon himself the conveyance of our bags and big +trunk (which will be conveyed through some acquaintances of his), we +must reckon upon some expense on our arrival in Petersburg, where we +can’t be left without a halfpenny, at least for the first few days. But +we have calculated it all, Dounia and I, to the last penny, and we see +that the journey will not cost very much. It is only ninety versts from +us to the railway and we have come to an agreement with a driver we +know, so as to be in readiness; and from there Dounia and I can travel +quite comfortably third class. So that I may very likely be able to send +to you not twenty-five, but thirty roubles. But enough; I have covered +two sheets already and there is no space left for more; our whole +history, but so many events have happened! And now, my precious Rodya, +I embrace you and send you a mother’s blessing till we meet. Love Dounia +your sister, Rodya; love her as she loves you and understand that she +loves you beyond everything, more than herself. She is an angel and you, +Rodya, you are everything to us--our one hope, our one consolation. If +only you are happy, we shall be happy. Do you still say your prayers, +Rodya, and believe in the mercy of our Creator and our Redeemer? I am +afraid in my heart that you may have been visited by the new spirit of +infidelity that is abroad to-day; If it is so, I pray for you. Remember, +dear boy, how in your childhood, when your father was living, you used +to lisp your prayers at my knee, and how happy we all were in those +days. Good-bye, till we meet then--I embrace you warmly, warmly, with +many kisses. + +“Yours till death, + +“PULCHERIA RASKOLNIKOV.” + + +Almost from the first, while he read the letter, Raskolnikov’s face was +wet with tears; but when he finished it, his face was pale and distorted +and a bitter, wrathful and malignant smile was on his lips. He laid his +head down on his threadbare dirty pillow and pondered, pondered a long +time. His heart was beating violently, and his brain was in a turmoil. +At last he felt cramped and stifled in the little yellow room that was +like a cupboard or a box. His eyes and his mind craved for space. He +took up his hat and went out, this time without dread of meeting +anyone; he had forgotten his dread. He turned in the direction of the +Vassilyevsky Ostrov, walking along Vassilyevsky Prospect, as though +hastening on some business, but he walked, as his habit was, without +noticing his way, muttering and even speaking aloud to himself, to the +astonishment of the passers-by. Many of them took him to be drunk. + + + +CHAPTER IV + +His mother’s letter had been a torture to him, but as regards the chief +fact in it, he had felt not one moment’s hesitation, even whilst he was +reading the letter. The essential question was settled, and irrevocably +settled, in his mind: “Never such a marriage while I am alive and +Mr. Luzhin be damned!” “The thing is perfectly clear,” he muttered +to himself, with a malignant smile anticipating the triumph of his +decision. “No, mother, no, Dounia, you won’t deceive me! and then they +apologise for not asking my advice and for taking the decision without +me! I dare say! They imagine it is arranged now and can’t be broken +off; but we will see whether it can or not! A magnificent excuse: +‘Pyotr Petrovitch is such a busy man that even his wedding has to be in +post-haste, almost by express.’ No, Dounia, I see it all and I know what +you want to say to me; and I know too what you were thinking about, when +you walked up and down all night, and what your prayers were like before +the Holy Mother of Kazan who stands in mother’s bedroom. Bitter is +the ascent to Golgotha.... Hm... so it is finally settled; you have +determined to marry a sensible business man, Avdotya Romanovna, one +who has a fortune (has _already_ made his fortune, that is so much +more solid and impressive), a man who holds two government posts and who +shares the ideas of our most rising generation, as mother writes, and +who _seems_ to be kind, as Dounia herself observes. That _seems_ beats +everything! And that very Dounia for that very ‘_seems_’ is marrying +him! Splendid! splendid! + +“... But I should like to know why mother has written to me about ‘our +most rising generation’? Simply as a descriptive touch, or with the idea +of prepossessing me in favour of Mr. Luzhin? Oh, the cunning of them! +I should like to know one thing more: how far they were open with one +another that day and night and all this time since? Was it all put into +_words_, or did both understand that they had the same thing at heart +and in their minds, so that there was no need to speak of it aloud, and +better not to speak of it. Most likely it was partly like that, from +mother’s letter it’s evident: he struck her as rude _a little_, and +mother in her simplicity took her observations to Dounia. And she was +sure to be vexed and ‘answered her angrily.’ I should think so! Who +would not be angered when it was quite clear without any naïve questions +and when it was understood that it was useless to discuss it. And why +does she write to me, ‘love Dounia, Rodya, and she loves you more than +herself’? Has she a secret conscience-prick at sacrificing her daughter +to her son? ‘You are our one comfort, you are everything to us.’ Oh, +mother!” + +His bitterness grew more and more intense, and if he had happened to +meet Mr. Luzhin at the moment, he might have murdered him. + +“Hm... yes, that’s true,” he continued, pursuing the whirling ideas that +chased each other in his brain, “it is true that ‘it needs time and care +to get to know a man,’ but there is no mistake about Mr. Luzhin. The +chief thing is he is ‘a man of business and _seems_ kind,’ that was +something, wasn’t it, to send the bags and big box for them! A kind man, +no doubt after that! But his _bride_ and her mother are to drive in a +peasant’s cart covered with sacking (I know, I have been driven in +it). No matter! It is only ninety versts and then they can ‘travel very +comfortably, third class,’ for a thousand versts! Quite right, too. One +must cut one’s coat according to one’s cloth, but what about you, Mr. +Luzhin? She is your bride.... And you must be aware that her mother has +to raise money on her pension for the journey. To be sure it’s a matter +of business, a partnership for mutual benefit, with equal shares and +expenses;--food and drink provided, but pay for your tobacco. The +business man has got the better of them, too. The luggage will cost less +than their fares and very likely go for nothing. How is it that they +don’t both see all that, or is it that they don’t want to see? And +they are pleased, pleased! And to think that this is only the first +blossoming, and that the real fruits are to come! But what really +matters is not the stinginess, is not the meanness, but the _tone_ +of the whole thing. For that will be the tone after marriage, it’s a +foretaste of it. And mother too, why should she be so lavish? What will +she have by the time she gets to Petersburg? Three silver roubles or +two ‘paper ones’ as _she_ says.... that old woman... hm. What does +she expect to live upon in Petersburg afterwards? She has her reasons +already for guessing that she _could not_ live with Dounia after the +marriage, even for the first few months. The good man has no doubt let +slip something on that subject also, though mother would deny it: ‘I +shall refuse,’ says she. On whom is she reckoning then? Is she counting +on what is left of her hundred and twenty roubles of pension when +Afanasy Ivanovitch’s debt is paid? She knits woollen shawls and +embroiders cuffs, ruining her old eyes. And all her shawls don’t add +more than twenty roubles a year to her hundred and twenty, I know +that. So she is building all her hopes all the time on Mr. Luzhin’s +generosity; ‘he will offer it of himself, he will press it on me.’ +You may wait a long time for that! That’s how it always is with these +Schilleresque noble hearts; till the last moment every goose is a swan +with them, till the last moment, they hope for the best and will see +nothing wrong, and although they have an inkling of the other side of +the picture, yet they won’t face the truth till they are forced to; the +very thought of it makes them shiver; they thrust the truth away with +both hands, until the man they deck out in false colours puts a fool’s +cap on them with his own hands. I should like to know whether Mr. Luzhin +has any orders of merit; I bet he has the Anna in his buttonhole and +that he puts it on when he goes to dine with contractors or merchants. +He will be sure to have it for his wedding, too! Enough of him, confound +him! + +“Well,... mother I don’t wonder at, it’s like her, God bless her, but +how could Dounia? Dounia darling, as though I did not know you! You were +nearly twenty when I saw you last: I understood you then. Mother writes +that ‘Dounia can put up with a great deal.’ I know that very well. I +knew that two years and a half ago, and for the last two and a half +years I have been thinking about it, thinking of just that, that ‘Dounia +can put up with a great deal.’ If she could put up with Mr. Svidrigaïlov +and all the rest of it, she certainly can put up with a great deal. And +now mother and she have taken it into their heads that she can put up +with Mr. Luzhin, who propounds the theory of the superiority of +wives raised from destitution and owing everything to their husband’s +bounty--who propounds it, too, almost at the first interview. Granted +that he ‘let it slip,’ though he is a sensible man, (yet maybe it +was not a slip at all, but he meant to make himself clear as soon as +possible) but Dounia, Dounia? She understands the man, of course, but +she will have to live with the man. Why! she’d live on black bread +and water, she would not sell her soul, she would not barter her moral +freedom for comfort; she would not barter it for all Schleswig-Holstein, +much less Mr. Luzhin’s money. No, Dounia was not that sort when I knew +her and... she is still the same, of course! Yes, there’s no denying, +the Svidrigaïlovs are a bitter pill! It’s a bitter thing to spend one’s +life a governess in the provinces for two hundred roubles, but I know +she would rather be a nigger on a plantation or a Lett with a German +master than degrade her soul, and her moral dignity, by binding herself +for ever to a man whom she does not respect and with whom she has +nothing in common--for her own advantage. And if Mr. Luzhin had been of +unalloyed gold, or one huge diamond, she would never have consented to +become his legal concubine. Why is she consenting then? What’s the +point of it? What’s the answer? It’s clear enough: for herself, for her +comfort, to save her life she would not sell herself, but for someone +else she is doing it! For one she loves, for one she adores, she will +sell herself! That’s what it all amounts to; for her brother, for her +mother, she will sell herself! She will sell everything! In such cases, +‘we overcome our moral feeling if necessary,’ freedom, peace, conscience +even, all, all are brought into the market. Let my life go, if only my +dear ones may be happy! More than that, we become casuists, we learn +to be Jesuitical and for a time maybe we can soothe ourselves, we can +persuade ourselves that it is one’s duty for a good object. That’s just +like us, it’s as clear as daylight. It’s clear that Rodion Romanovitch +Raskolnikov is the central figure in the business, and no one else. Oh, +yes, she can ensure his happiness, keep him in the university, make him +a partner in the office, make his whole future secure; perhaps he may +even be a rich man later on, prosperous, respected, and may even end his +life a famous man! But my mother? It’s all Rodya, precious Rodya, her +first born! For such a son who would not sacrifice such a daughter! Oh, +loving, over-partial hearts! Why, for his sake we would not shrink even +from Sonia’s fate. Sonia, Sonia Marmeladov, the eternal victim so long +as the world lasts. Have you taken the measure of your sacrifice, both +of you? Is it right? Can you bear it? Is it any use? Is there sense in +it? And let me tell you, Dounia, Sonia’s life is no worse than life with +Mr. Luzhin. ‘There can be no question of love,’ mother writes. And what +if there can be no respect either, if on the contrary there is aversion, +contempt, repulsion, what then? So you will have to ‘keep up your +appearance,’ too. Is not that so? Do you understand what that smartness +means? Do you understand that the Luzhin smartness is just the same +thing as Sonia’s and may be worse, viler, baser, because in your case, +Dounia, it’s a bargain for luxuries, after all, but with Sonia it’s +simply a question of starvation. It has to be paid for, it has to be +paid for, Dounia, this smartness. And what if it’s more than you can +bear afterwards, if you regret it? The bitterness, the misery, the +curses, the tears hidden from all the world, for you are not a Marfa +Petrovna. And how will your mother feel then? Even now she is uneasy, +she is worried, but then, when she sees it all clearly? And I? Yes, +indeed, what have you taken me for? I won’t have your sacrifice, Dounia, +I won’t have it, mother! It shall not be, so long as I am alive, it +shall not, it shall not! I won’t accept it!” + +He suddenly paused in his reflection and stood still. + +“It shall not be? But what are you going to do to prevent it? You’ll +forbid it? And what right have you? What can you promise them on your +side to give you such a right? Your whole life, your whole future, you +will devote to them _when you have finished your studies and obtained a +post_? Yes, we have heard all that before, and that’s all _words_, but +now? Now something must be done, now, do you understand that? And +what are you doing now? You are living upon them. They borrow on their +hundred roubles pension. They borrow from the Svidrigaïlovs. How are +you going to save them from Svidrigaïlovs, from Afanasy Ivanovitch +Vahrushin, oh, future millionaire Zeus who would arrange their lives for +them? In another ten years? In another ten years, mother will be blind +with knitting shawls, maybe with weeping too. She will be worn to a +shadow with fasting; and my sister? Imagine for a moment what may have +become of your sister in ten years? What may happen to her during those +ten years? Can you fancy?” + +So he tortured himself, fretting himself with such questions, and +finding a kind of enjoyment in it. And yet all these questions were not +new ones suddenly confronting him, they were old familiar aches. It was +long since they had first begun to grip and rend his heart. Long, long +ago his present anguish had its first beginnings; it had waxed and +gathered strength, it had matured and concentrated, until it had taken +the form of a fearful, frenzied and fantastic question, which tortured +his heart and mind, clamouring insistently for an answer. Now his +mother’s letter had burst on him like a thunderclap. It was clear +that he must not now suffer passively, worrying himself over unsolved +questions, but that he must do something, do it at once, and do it +quickly. Anyway he must decide on something, or else... + +“Or throw up life altogether!” he cried suddenly, in a frenzy--“accept +one’s lot humbly as it is, once for all and stifle everything in +oneself, giving up all claim to activity, life and love!” + +“Do you understand, sir, do you understand what it means when you have +absolutely nowhere to turn?” Marmeladov’s question came suddenly into +his mind, “for every man must have somewhere to turn....” + +He gave a sudden start; another thought, that he had had yesterday, +slipped back into his mind. But he did not start at the thought +recurring to him, for he knew, he had _felt beforehand_, that it must +come back, he was expecting it; besides it was not only yesterday’s +thought. The difference was that a month ago, yesterday even, the +thought was a mere dream: but now... now it appeared not a dream at all, +it had taken a new menacing and quite unfamiliar shape, and he suddenly +became aware of this himself.... He felt a hammering in his head, and +there was a darkness before his eyes. + +He looked round hurriedly, he was searching for something. He wanted +to sit down and was looking for a seat; he was walking along the K---- +Boulevard. There was a seat about a hundred paces in front of him. He +walked towards it as fast he could; but on the way he met with a little +adventure which absorbed all his attention. Looking for the seat, he had +noticed a woman walking some twenty paces in front of him, but at first +he took no more notice of her than of other objects that crossed his +path. It had happened to him many times going home not to notice the +road by which he was going, and he was accustomed to walk like that. But +there was at first sight something so strange about the woman in front +of him, that gradually his attention was riveted upon her, at first +reluctantly and, as it were, resentfully, and then more and more +intently. He felt a sudden desire to find out what it was that was so +strange about the woman. In the first place, she appeared to be a girl +quite young, and she was walking in the great heat bareheaded and with +no parasol or gloves, waving her arms about in an absurd way. She had +on a dress of some light silky material, but put on strangely awry, not +properly hooked up, and torn open at the top of the skirt, close to the +waist: a great piece was rent and hanging loose. A little kerchief was +flung about her bare throat, but lay slanting on one side. The girl was +walking unsteadily, too, stumbling and staggering from side to side. She +drew Raskolnikov’s whole attention at last. He overtook the girl at the +seat, but, on reaching it, she dropped down on it, in the corner; +she let her head sink on the back of the seat and closed her eyes, +apparently in extreme exhaustion. Looking at her closely, he saw at once +that she was completely drunk. It was a strange and shocking sight. He +could hardly believe that he was not mistaken. He saw before him the +face of a quite young, fair-haired girl--sixteen, perhaps not more than +fifteen, years old, pretty little face, but flushed and heavy looking +and, as it were, swollen. The girl seemed hardly to know what she was +doing; she crossed one leg over the other, lifting it indecorously, and +showed every sign of being unconscious that she was in the street. + +Raskolnikov did not sit down, but he felt unwilling to leave her, +and stood facing her in perplexity. This boulevard was never much +frequented; and now, at two o’clock, in the stifling heat, it was quite +deserted. And yet on the further side of the boulevard, about fifteen +paces away, a gentleman was standing on the edge of the pavement. He, +too, would apparently have liked to approach the girl with some object +of his own. He, too, had probably seen her in the distance and had +followed her, but found Raskolnikov in his way. He looked angrily at +him, though he tried to escape his notice, and stood impatiently biding +his time, till the unwelcome man in rags should have moved away. His +intentions were unmistakable. The gentleman was a plump, thickly-set +man, about thirty, fashionably dressed, with a high colour, red lips and +moustaches. Raskolnikov felt furious; he had a sudden longing to insult +this fat dandy in some way. He left the girl for a moment and walked +towards the gentleman. + +“Hey! You Svidrigaïlov! What do you want here?” he shouted, clenching +his fists and laughing, spluttering with rage. + +“What do you mean?” the gentleman asked sternly, scowling in haughty +astonishment. + +“Get away, that’s what I mean.” + +“How dare you, you low fellow!” + +He raised his cane. Raskolnikov rushed at him with his fists, without +reflecting that the stout gentleman was a match for two men like +himself. But at that instant someone seized him from behind, and a +police constable stood between them. + +“That’s enough, gentlemen, no fighting, please, in a public place. What +do you want? Who are you?” he asked Raskolnikov sternly, noticing his +rags. + +Raskolnikov looked at him intently. He had a straight-forward, sensible, +soldierly face, with grey moustaches and whiskers. + +“You are just the man I want,” Raskolnikov cried, catching at his arm. +“I am a student, Raskolnikov.... You may as well know that too,” he +added, addressing the gentleman, “come along, I have something to show +you.” + +And taking the policeman by the hand he drew him towards the seat. + +“Look here, hopelessly drunk, and she has just come down the boulevard. +There is no telling who and what she is, she does not look like a +professional. It’s more likely she has been given drink and deceived +somewhere... for the first time... you understand? and they’ve put her +out into the street like that. Look at the way her dress is torn, and +the way it has been put on: she has been dressed by somebody, she has +not dressed herself, and dressed by unpractised hands, by a man’s hands; +that’s evident. And now look there: I don’t know that dandy with whom I +was going to fight, I see him for the first time, but he, too, has seen +her on the road, just now, drunk, not knowing what she is doing, and now +he is very eager to get hold of her, to get her away somewhere while she +is in this state... that’s certain, believe me, I am not wrong. I saw +him myself watching her and following her, but I prevented him, and he +is just waiting for me to go away. Now he has walked away a little, and +is standing still, pretending to make a cigarette.... Think how can we +keep her out of his hands, and how are we to get her home?” + +The policeman saw it all in a flash. The stout gentleman was easy to +understand, he turned to consider the girl. The policeman bent over to +examine her more closely, and his face worked with genuine compassion. + +“Ah, what a pity!” he said, shaking his head--“why, she is quite a +child! She has been deceived, you can see that at once. Listen, lady,” + he began addressing her, “where do you live?” The girl opened her weary +and sleepy-looking eyes, gazed blankly at the speaker and waved her +hand. + +“Here,” said Raskolnikov feeling in his pocket and finding twenty +copecks, “here, call a cab and tell him to drive her to her address. The +only thing is to find out her address!” + +“Missy, missy!” the policeman began again, taking the money. “I’ll fetch +you a cab and take you home myself. Where shall I take you, eh? Where do +you live?” + +“Go away! They won’t let me alone,” the girl muttered, and once more +waved her hand. + +“Ach, ach, how shocking! It’s shameful, missy, it’s a shame!” He shook +his head again, shocked, sympathetic and indignant. + +“It’s a difficult job,” the policeman said to Raskolnikov, and as he +did so, he looked him up and down in a rapid glance. He, too, must have +seemed a strange figure to him: dressed in rags and handing him money! + +“Did you meet her far from here?” he asked him. + +“I tell you she was walking in front of me, staggering, just here, in +the boulevard. She only just reached the seat and sank down on it.” + +“Ah, the shameful things that are done in the world nowadays, God have +mercy on us! An innocent creature like that, drunk already! She has been +deceived, that’s a sure thing. See how her dress has been torn too.... +Ah, the vice one sees nowadays! And as likely as not she belongs to +gentlefolk too, poor ones maybe.... There are many like that nowadays. +She looks refined, too, as though she were a lady,” and he bent over her +once more. + +Perhaps he had daughters growing up like that, “looking like ladies and +refined” with pretensions to gentility and smartness.... + +“The chief thing is,” Raskolnikov persisted, “to keep her out of this +scoundrel’s hands! Why should he outrage her! It’s as clear as day what +he is after; ah, the brute, he is not moving off!” + +Raskolnikov spoke aloud and pointed to him. The gentleman heard him, +and seemed about to fly into a rage again, but thought better of it, and +confined himself to a contemptuous look. He then walked slowly another +ten paces away and again halted. + +“Keep her out of his hands we can,” said the constable thoughtfully, +“if only she’d tell us where to take her, but as it is.... Missy, hey, +missy!” he bent over her once more. + +She opened her eyes fully all of a sudden, looked at him intently, as +though realising something, got up from the seat and walked away in the +direction from which she had come. “Oh shameful wretches, they won’t let +me alone!” she said, waving her hand again. She walked quickly, though +staggering as before. The dandy followed her, but along another avenue, +keeping his eye on her. + +“Don’t be anxious, I won’t let him have her,” the policeman said +resolutely, and he set off after them. + +“Ah, the vice one sees nowadays!” he repeated aloud, sighing. + +At that moment something seemed to sting Raskolnikov; in an instant a +complete revulsion of feeling came over him. + +“Hey, here!” he shouted after the policeman. + +The latter turned round. + +“Let them be! What is it to do with you? Let her go! Let him amuse +himself.” He pointed at the dandy, “What is it to do with you?” + +The policeman was bewildered, and stared at him open-eyed. Raskolnikov +laughed. + +“Well!” ejaculated the policeman, with a gesture of contempt, and he +walked after the dandy and the girl, probably taking Raskolnikov for a +madman or something even worse. + +“He has carried off my twenty copecks,” Raskolnikov murmured angrily +when he was left alone. “Well, let him take as much from the other +fellow to allow him to have the girl and so let it end. And why did I +want to interfere? Is it for me to help? Have I any right to help? Let +them devour each other alive--what is it to me? How did I dare to give him +twenty copecks? Were they mine?” + +In spite of those strange words he felt very wretched. He sat down on +the deserted seat. His thoughts strayed aimlessly.... He found it hard +to fix his mind on anything at that moment. He longed to forget himself +altogether, to forget everything, and then to wake up and begin life +anew.... + +“Poor girl!” he said, looking at the empty corner where she had +sat--“She will come to herself and weep, and then her mother will find +out.... She will give her a beating, a horrible, shameful beating and +then maybe, turn her out of doors.... And even if she does not, the +Darya Frantsovnas will get wind of it, and the girl will soon be +slipping out on the sly here and there. Then there will be the hospital +directly (that’s always the luck of those girls with respectable +mothers, who go wrong on the sly) and then... again the hospital... +drink... the taverns... and more hospital, in two or three years--a +wreck, and her life over at eighteen or nineteen.... Have not I seen +cases like that? And how have they been brought to it? Why, they’ve all +come to it like that. Ugh! But what does it matter? That’s as it should +be, they tell us. A certain percentage, they tell us, must every year +go... that way... to the devil, I suppose, so that the rest may remain +chaste, and not be interfered with. A percentage! What splendid words +they have; they are so scientific, so consolatory.... Once you’ve said +‘percentage’ there’s nothing more to worry about. If we had any other +word... maybe we might feel more uneasy.... But what if Dounia were one +of the percentage! Of another one if not that one? + +“But where am I going?” he thought suddenly. “Strange, I came out for +something. As soon as I had read the letter I came out.... I was going +to Vassilyevsky Ostrov, to Razumihin. That’s what it was... now I +remember. What for, though? And what put the idea of going to Razumihin +into my head just now? That’s curious.” + +He wondered at himself. Razumihin was one of his old comrades at the +university. It was remarkable that Raskolnikov had hardly any friends at +the university; he kept aloof from everyone, went to see no one, and did +not welcome anyone who came to see him, and indeed everyone soon gave +him up. He took no part in the students’ gatherings, amusements or +conversations. He worked with great intensity without sparing himself, +and he was respected for this, but no one liked him. He was very poor, +and there was a sort of haughty pride and reserve about him, as though +he were keeping something to himself. He seemed to some of his comrades +to look down upon them all as children, as though he were superior in +development, knowledge and convictions, as though their beliefs and +interests were beneath him. + +With Razumihin he had got on, or, at least, he was more unreserved and +communicative with him. Indeed it was impossible to be on any other +terms with Razumihin. He was an exceptionally good-humoured and candid +youth, good-natured to the point of simplicity, though both depth and +dignity lay concealed under that simplicity. The better of his comrades +understood this, and all were fond of him. He was extremely intelligent, +though he was certainly rather a simpleton at times. He was of striking +appearance--tall, thin, blackhaired and always badly shaved. He was +sometimes uproarious and was reputed to be of great physical strength. +One night, when out in a festive company, he had with one blow laid +a gigantic policeman on his back. There was no limit to his drinking +powers, but he could abstain from drink altogether; he sometimes went +too far in his pranks; but he could do without pranks altogether. +Another thing striking about Razumihin, no failure distressed him, and +it seemed as though no unfavourable circumstances could crush him. He +could lodge anywhere, and bear the extremes of cold and hunger. He was +very poor, and kept himself entirely on what he could earn by work of +one sort or another. He knew of no end of resources by which to earn +money. He spent one whole winter without lighting his stove, and used to +declare that he liked it better, because one slept more soundly in +the cold. For the present he, too, had been obliged to give up the +university, but it was only for a time, and he was working with all his +might to save enough to return to his studies again. Raskolnikov had +not been to see him for the last four months, and Razumihin did not even +know his address. About two months before, they had met in the street, +but Raskolnikov had turned away and even crossed to the other side that +he might not be observed. And though Razumihin noticed him, he passed +him by, as he did not want to annoy him. + + + +CHAPTER V + +“Of course, I’ve been meaning lately to go to Razumihin’s to ask for +work, to ask him to get me lessons or something...” Raskolnikov thought, +“but what help can he be to me now? Suppose he gets me lessons, suppose +he shares his last farthing with me, if he has any farthings, so that +I could get some boots and make myself tidy enough to give lessons... +hm... Well and what then? What shall I do with the few coppers I +earn? That’s not what I want now. It’s really absurd for me to go to +Razumihin....” + +The question why he was now going to Razumihin agitated him even more +than he was himself aware; he kept uneasily seeking for some sinister +significance in this apparently ordinary action. + +“Could I have expected to set it all straight and to find a way out by +means of Razumihin alone?” he asked himself in perplexity. + +He pondered and rubbed his forehead, and, strange to say, after long +musing, suddenly, as if it were spontaneously and by chance, a fantastic +thought came into his head. + +“Hm... to Razumihin’s,” he said all at once, calmly, as though he had +reached a final determination. “I shall go to Razumihin’s of course, +but... not now. I shall go to him... on the next day after It, when It +will be over and everything will begin afresh....” + +And suddenly he realised what he was thinking. + +“After It,” he shouted, jumping up from the seat, “but is It really +going to happen? Is it possible it really will happen?” He left the +seat, and went off almost at a run; he meant to turn back, homewards, +but the thought of going home suddenly filled him with intense loathing; +in that hole, in that awful little cupboard of his, all _this_ had for a +month past been growing up in him; and he walked on at random. + +His nervous shudder had passed into a fever that made him feel +shivering; in spite of the heat he felt cold. With a kind of effort he +began almost unconsciously, from some inner craving, to stare at all +the objects before him, as though looking for something to distract his +attention; but he did not succeed, and kept dropping every moment into +brooding. When with a start he lifted his head again and looked round, +he forgot at once what he had just been thinking about and even where he +was going. In this way he walked right across Vassilyevsky Ostrov, came +out on to the Lesser Neva, crossed the bridge and turned towards the +islands. The greenness and freshness were at first restful to his weary +eyes after the dust of the town and the huge houses that hemmed him in +and weighed upon him. Here there were no taverns, no stifling closeness, +no stench. But soon these new pleasant sensations passed into morbid +irritability. Sometimes he stood still before a brightly painted summer +villa standing among green foliage, he gazed through the fence, he saw +in the distance smartly dressed women on the verandahs and balconies, +and children running in the gardens. The flowers especially caught his +attention; he gazed at them longer than at anything. He was met, too, by +luxurious carriages and by men and women on horseback; he watched them +with curious eyes and forgot about them before they had vanished from +his sight. Once he stood still and counted his money; he found he had +thirty copecks. “Twenty to the policeman, three to Nastasya for the +letter, so I must have given forty-seven or fifty to the Marmeladovs +yesterday,” he thought, reckoning it up for some unknown reason, but he +soon forgot with what object he had taken the money out of his pocket. +He recalled it on passing an eating-house or tavern, and felt that he +was hungry.... Going into the tavern he drank a glass of vodka and ate a +pie of some sort. He finished eating it as he walked away. It was a long +while since he had taken vodka and it had an effect upon him at once, +though he only drank a wineglassful. His legs felt suddenly heavy and +a great drowsiness came upon him. He turned homewards, but reaching +Petrovsky Ostrov he stopped completely exhausted, turned off the road +into the bushes, sank down upon the grass and instantly fell asleep. + +In a morbid condition of the brain, dreams often have a singular +actuality, vividness, and extraordinary semblance of reality. At times +monstrous images are created, but the setting and the whole picture are +so truth-like and filled with details so delicate, so unexpectedly, but +so artistically consistent, that the dreamer, were he an artist like +Pushkin or Turgenev even, could never have invented them in the waking +state. Such sick dreams always remain long in the memory and make a +powerful impression on the overwrought and deranged nervous system. + +Raskolnikov had a fearful dream. He dreamt he was back in his childhood +in the little town of his birth. He was a child about seven years old, +walking into the country with his father on the evening of a holiday. It +was a grey and heavy day, the country was exactly as he remembered it; +indeed he recalled it far more vividly in his dream than he had done in +memory. The little town stood on a level flat as bare as the hand, not +even a willow near it; only in the far distance, a copse lay, a dark +blur on the very edge of the horizon. A few paces beyond the last market +garden stood a tavern, a big tavern, which had always aroused in him a +feeling of aversion, even of fear, when he walked by it with his father. +There was always a crowd there, always shouting, laughter and abuse, +hideous hoarse singing and often fighting. Drunken and horrible-looking +figures were hanging about the tavern. He used to cling close to his +father, trembling all over when he met them. Near the tavern the road +became a dusty track, the dust of which was always black. It was a +winding road, and about a hundred paces further on, it turned to the +right to the graveyard. In the middle of the graveyard stood a stone +church with a green cupola where he used to go to mass two or three +times a year with his father and mother, when a service was held in +memory of his grandmother, who had long been dead, and whom he had never +seen. On these occasions they used to take on a white dish tied up in a +table napkin a special sort of rice pudding with raisins stuck in it in +the shape of a cross. He loved that church, the old-fashioned, unadorned +ikons and the old priest with the shaking head. Near his grandmother’s +grave, which was marked by a stone, was the little grave of his younger +brother who had died at six months old. He did not remember him at all, +but he had been told about his little brother, and whenever he visited +the graveyard he used religiously and reverently to cross himself and +to bow down and kiss the little grave. And now he dreamt that he was +walking with his father past the tavern on the way to the graveyard; he +was holding his father’s hand and looking with dread at the tavern. A +peculiar circumstance attracted his attention: there seemed to be +some kind of festivity going on, there were crowds of gaily dressed +townspeople, peasant women, their husbands, and riff-raff of all sorts, +all singing and all more or less drunk. Near the entrance of the tavern +stood a cart, but a strange cart. It was one of those big carts usually +drawn by heavy cart-horses and laden with casks of wine or other heavy +goods. He always liked looking at those great cart-horses, with their +long manes, thick legs, and slow even pace, drawing along a perfect +mountain with no appearance of effort, as though it were easier going +with a load than without it. But now, strange to say, in the shafts of +such a cart he saw a thin little sorrel beast, one of those peasants’ +nags which he had often seen straining their utmost under a heavy load +of wood or hay, especially when the wheels were stuck in the mud or in +a rut. And the peasants would beat them so cruelly, sometimes even +about the nose and eyes, and he felt so sorry, so sorry for them that +he almost cried, and his mother always used to take him away from the +window. All of a sudden there was a great uproar of shouting, singing +and the balalaïka, and from the tavern a number of big and very drunken +peasants came out, wearing red and blue shirts and coats thrown over +their shoulders. + +“Get in, get in!” shouted one of them, a young thick-necked peasant with +a fleshy face red as a carrot. “I’ll take you all, get in!” + +But at once there was an outbreak of laughter and exclamations in the +crowd. + +“Take us all with a beast like that!” + +“Why, Mikolka, are you crazy to put a nag like that in such a cart?” + +“And this mare is twenty if she is a day, mates!” + +“Get in, I’ll take you all,” Mikolka shouted again, leaping first into +the cart, seizing the reins and standing straight up in front. “The bay +has gone with Matvey,” he shouted from the cart--“and this brute, mates, +is just breaking my heart, I feel as if I could kill her. She’s just +eating her head off. Get in, I tell you! I’ll make her gallop! She’ll +gallop!” and he picked up the whip, preparing himself with relish to +flog the little mare. + +“Get in! Come along!” The crowd laughed. “D’you hear, she’ll gallop!” + +“Gallop indeed! She has not had a gallop in her for the last ten years!” + +“She’ll jog along!” + +“Don’t you mind her, mates, bring a whip each of you, get ready!” + +“All right! Give it to her!” + +They all clambered into Mikolka’s cart, laughing and making jokes. Six +men got in and there was still room for more. They hauled in a fat, +rosy-cheeked woman. She was dressed in red cotton, in a pointed, beaded +headdress and thick leather shoes; she was cracking nuts and laughing. +The crowd round them was laughing too and indeed, how could they help +laughing? That wretched nag was to drag all the cartload of them at a +gallop! Two young fellows in the cart were just getting whips ready to +help Mikolka. With the cry of “now,” the mare tugged with all her might, +but far from galloping, could scarcely move forward; she struggled with +her legs, gasping and shrinking from the blows of the three whips which +were showered upon her like hail. The laughter in the cart and in the +crowd was redoubled, but Mikolka flew into a rage and furiously thrashed +the mare, as though he supposed she really could gallop. + +“Let me get in, too, mates,” shouted a young man in the crowd whose +appetite was aroused. + +“Get in, all get in,” cried Mikolka, “she will draw you all. I’ll beat +her to death!” And he thrashed and thrashed at the mare, beside himself +with fury. + +“Father, father,” he cried, “father, what are they doing? Father, they +are beating the poor horse!” + +“Come along, come along!” said his father. “They are drunken and +foolish, they are in fun; come away, don’t look!” and he tried to draw +him away, but he tore himself away from his hand, and, beside himself +with horror, ran to the horse. The poor beast was in a bad way. She was +gasping, standing still, then tugging again and almost falling. + +“Beat her to death,” cried Mikolka, “it’s come to that. I’ll do for +her!” + +“What are you about, are you a Christian, you devil?” shouted an old man +in the crowd. + +“Did anyone ever see the like? A wretched nag like that pulling such a +cartload,” said another. + +“You’ll kill her,” shouted the third. + +“Don’t meddle! It’s my property, I’ll do what I choose. Get in, more of +you! Get in, all of you! I will have her go at a gallop!...” + +All at once laughter broke into a roar and covered everything: the mare, +roused by the shower of blows, began feebly kicking. Even the old man +could not help smiling. To think of a wretched little beast like that +trying to kick! + +Two lads in the crowd snatched up whips and ran to the mare to beat her +about the ribs. One ran each side. + +“Hit her in the face, in the eyes, in the eyes,” cried Mikolka. + +“Give us a song, mates,” shouted someone in the cart and everyone in the +cart joined in a riotous song, jingling a tambourine and whistling. The +woman went on cracking nuts and laughing. + +... He ran beside the mare, ran in front of her, saw her being whipped +across the eyes, right in the eyes! He was crying, he felt choking, his +tears were streaming. One of the men gave him a cut with the whip across +the face, he did not feel it. Wringing his hands and screaming, he +rushed up to the grey-headed old man with the grey beard, who was +shaking his head in disapproval. One woman seized him by the hand and +would have taken him away, but he tore himself from her and ran back to +the mare. She was almost at the last gasp, but began kicking once more. + +“I’ll teach you to kick,” Mikolka shouted ferociously. He threw down +the whip, bent forward and picked up from the bottom of the cart a long, +thick shaft, he took hold of one end with both hands and with an effort +brandished it over the mare. + +“He’ll crush her,” was shouted round him. “He’ll kill her!” + +“It’s my property,” shouted Mikolka and brought the shaft down with a +swinging blow. There was a sound of a heavy thud. + +“Thrash her, thrash her! Why have you stopped?” shouted voices in the +crowd. + +And Mikolka swung the shaft a second time and it fell a second time +on the spine of the luckless mare. She sank back on her haunches, but +lurched forward and tugged forward with all her force, tugged first on +one side and then on the other, trying to move the cart. But the six +whips were attacking her in all directions, and the shaft was raised +again and fell upon her a third time, then a fourth, with heavy measured +blows. Mikolka was in a fury that he could not kill her at one blow. + +“She’s a tough one,” was shouted in the crowd. + +“She’ll fall in a minute, mates, there will soon be an end of her,” said +an admiring spectator in the crowd. + +“Fetch an axe to her! Finish her off,” shouted a third. + +“I’ll show you! Stand off,” Mikolka screamed frantically; he threw down +the shaft, stooped down in the cart and picked up an iron crowbar. “Look +out,” he shouted, and with all his might he dealt a stunning blow at the +poor mare. The blow fell; the mare staggered, sank back, tried to pull, +but the bar fell again with a swinging blow on her back and she fell on +the ground like a log. + +“Finish her off,” shouted Mikolka and he leapt beside himself, out of +the cart. Several young men, also flushed with drink, seized anything +they could come across--whips, sticks, poles, and ran to the dying +mare. Mikolka stood on one side and began dealing random blows with the +crowbar. The mare stretched out her head, drew a long breath and died. + +“You butchered her,” someone shouted in the crowd. + +“Why wouldn’t she gallop then?” + +“My property!” shouted Mikolka, with bloodshot eyes, brandishing the bar +in his hands. He stood as though regretting that he had nothing more to +beat. + +“No mistake about it, you are not a Christian,” many voices were +shouting in the crowd. + +But the poor boy, beside himself, made his way, screaming, through the +crowd to the sorrel nag, put his arms round her bleeding dead head and +kissed it, kissed the eyes and kissed the lips.... Then he jumped up and +flew in a frenzy with his little fists out at Mikolka. At that instant +his father, who had been running after him, snatched him up and carried +him out of the crowd. + +“Come along, come! Let us go home,” he said to him. + +“Father! Why did they... kill... the poor horse!” he sobbed, but his +voice broke and the words came in shrieks from his panting chest. + +“They are drunk.... They are brutal... it’s not our business!” said his +father. He put his arms round his father but he felt choked, choked. He +tried to draw a breath, to cry out--and woke up. + +He waked up, gasping for breath, his hair soaked with perspiration, and +stood up in terror. + +“Thank God, that was only a dream,” he said, sitting down under a tree +and drawing deep breaths. “But what is it? Is it some fever coming on? +Such a hideous dream!” + +He felt utterly broken: darkness and confusion were in his soul. He +rested his elbows on his knees and leaned his head on his hands. + +“Good God!” he cried, “can it be, can it be, that I shall really take an +axe, that I shall strike her on the head, split her skull open... that I +shall tread in the sticky warm blood, break the lock, steal and tremble; +hide, all spattered in the blood... with the axe.... Good God, can it +be?” + +He was shaking like a leaf as he said this. + +“But why am I going on like this?” he continued, sitting up again, as it +were in profound amazement. “I knew that I could never bring myself +to it, so what have I been torturing myself for till now? Yesterday, +yesterday, when I went to make that... _experiment_, yesterday I +realised completely that I could never bear to do it.... Why am I going +over it again, then? Why am I hesitating? As I came down the stairs +yesterday, I said myself that it was base, loathsome, vile, vile... the +very thought of it made me feel sick and filled me with horror. + +“No, I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t do it! Granted, granted that there is +no flaw in all that reasoning, that all that I have concluded this last +month is clear as day, true as arithmetic.... My God! Anyway I couldn’t +bring myself to it! I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t do it! Why, why then am +I still...?” + +He rose to his feet, looked round in wonder as though surprised at +finding himself in this place, and went towards the bridge. He was pale, +his eyes glowed, he was exhausted in every limb, but he seemed suddenly +to breathe more easily. He felt he had cast off that fearful burden that +had so long been weighing upon him, and all at once there was a sense +of relief and peace in his soul. “Lord,” he prayed, “show me my path--I +renounce that accursed... dream of mine.” + +Crossing the bridge, he gazed quietly and calmly at the Neva, at the +glowing red sun setting in the glowing sky. In spite of his weakness he +was not conscious of fatigue. It was as though an abscess that had been +forming for a month past in his heart had suddenly broken. Freedom, +freedom! He was free from that spell, that sorcery, that obsession! + +Later on, when he recalled that time and all that happened to him during +those days, minute by minute, point by point, he was superstitiously +impressed by one circumstance, which, though in itself not very +exceptional, always seemed to him afterwards the predestined +turning-point of his fate. He could never understand and explain to +himself why, when he was tired and worn out, when it would have been +more convenient for him to go home by the shortest and most direct way, +he had returned by the Hay Market where he had no need to go. It was +obviously and quite unnecessarily out of his way, though not much so. It +is true that it happened to him dozens of times to return home without +noticing what streets he passed through. But why, he was always asking +himself, why had such an important, such a decisive and at the same time +such an absolutely chance meeting happened in the Hay Market (where he +had moreover no reason to go) at the very hour, the very minute of his +life when he was just in the very mood and in the very circumstances +in which that meeting was able to exert the gravest and most decisive +influence on his whole destiny? As though it had been lying in wait for +him on purpose! + +It was about nine o’clock when he crossed the Hay Market. At the tables +and the barrows, at the booths and the shops, all the market people were +closing their establishments or clearing away and packing up their +wares and, like their customers, were going home. Rag pickers and +costermongers of all kinds were crowding round the taverns in the dirty +and stinking courtyards of the Hay Market. Raskolnikov particularly +liked this place and the neighbouring alleys, when he wandered aimlessly +in the streets. Here his rags did not attract contemptuous attention, +and one could walk about in any attire without scandalising people. At +the corner of an alley a huckster and his wife had two tables set out +with tapes, thread, cotton handkerchiefs, etc. They, too, had got up to +go home, but were lingering in conversation with a friend, who had just +come up to them. This friend was Lizaveta Ivanovna, or, as everyone +called her, Lizaveta, the younger sister of the old pawnbroker, Alyona +Ivanovna, whom Raskolnikov had visited the previous day to pawn his +watch and make his _experiment_.... He already knew all about Lizaveta +and she knew him a little too. She was a single woman of about +thirty-five, tall, clumsy, timid, submissive and almost idiotic. She was +a complete slave and went in fear and trembling of her sister, who +made her work day and night, and even beat her. She was standing with +a bundle before the huckster and his wife, listening earnestly and +doubtfully. They were talking of something with special warmth. The +moment Raskolnikov caught sight of her, he was overcome by a strange +sensation as it were of intense astonishment, though there was nothing +astonishing about this meeting. + +“You could make up your mind for yourself, Lizaveta Ivanovna,” the +huckster was saying aloud. “Come round to-morrow about seven. They will +be here too.” + +“To-morrow?” said Lizaveta slowly and thoughtfully, as though unable to +make up her mind. + +“Upon my word, what a fright you are in of Alyona Ivanovna,” gabbled +the huckster’s wife, a lively little woman. “I look at you, you are like +some little babe. And she is not your own sister either--nothing but a +step-sister and what a hand she keeps over you!” + +“But this time don’t say a word to Alyona Ivanovna,” her husband +interrupted; “that’s my advice, but come round to us without asking. +It will be worth your while. Later on your sister herself may have a +notion.” + +“Am I to come?” + +“About seven o’clock to-morrow. And they will be here. You will be able +to decide for yourself.” + +“And we’ll have a cup of tea,” added his wife. + +“All right, I’ll come,” said Lizaveta, still pondering, and she began +slowly moving away. + +Raskolnikov had just passed and heard no more. He passed softly, +unnoticed, trying not to miss a word. His first amazement was followed +by a thrill of horror, like a shiver running down his spine. He had +learnt, he had suddenly quite unexpectedly learnt, that the next day at +seven o’clock Lizaveta, the old woman’s sister and only companion, would +be away from home and that therefore at seven o’clock precisely the old +woman _would be left alone_. + +He was only a few steps from his lodging. He went in like a man +condemned to death. He thought of nothing and was incapable of thinking; +but he felt suddenly in his whole being that he had no more freedom +of thought, no will, and that everything was suddenly and irrevocably +decided. + +Certainly, if he had to wait whole years for a suitable opportunity, he +could not reckon on a more certain step towards the success of the plan +than that which had just presented itself. In any case, it would have +been difficult to find out beforehand and with certainty, with +greater exactness and less risk, and without dangerous inquiries and +investigations, that next day at a certain time an old woman, on whose +life an attempt was contemplated, would be at home and entirely alone. + + + +CHAPTER VI + +Later on Raskolnikov happened to find out why the huckster and his +wife had invited Lizaveta. It was a very ordinary matter and there was +nothing exceptional about it. A family who had come to the town and been +reduced to poverty were selling their household goods and clothes, all +women’s things. As the things would have fetched little in the market, +they were looking for a dealer. This was Lizaveta’s business. She +undertook such jobs and was frequently employed, as she was very honest +and always fixed a fair price and stuck to it. She spoke as a rule +little and, as we have said already, she was very submissive and timid. + +But Raskolnikov had become superstitious of late. The traces of +superstition remained in him long after, and were almost ineradicable. +And in all this he was always afterwards disposed to see something +strange and mysterious, as it were, the presence of some peculiar +influences and coincidences. In the previous winter a student he knew +called Pokorev, who had left for Harkov, had chanced in conversation to +give him the address of Alyona Ivanovna, the old pawnbroker, in case he +might want to pawn anything. For a long while he did not go to her, for +he had lessons and managed to get along somehow. Six weeks ago he had +remembered the address; he had two articles that could be pawned: his +father’s old silver watch and a little gold ring with three red stones, +a present from his sister at parting. He decided to take the ring. When +he found the old woman he had felt an insurmountable repulsion for her +at the first glance, though he knew nothing special about her. He got +two roubles from her and went into a miserable little tavern on his way +home. He asked for tea, sat down and sank into deep thought. A strange +idea was pecking at his brain like a chicken in the egg, and very, very +much absorbed him. + +Almost beside him at the next table there was sitting a student, whom he +did not know and had never seen, and with him a young officer. They had +played a game of billiards and began drinking tea. All at once he heard +the student mention to the officer the pawnbroker Alyona Ivanovna and +give him her address. This of itself seemed strange to Raskolnikov; he +had just come from her and here at once he heard her name. Of course +it was a chance, but he could not shake off a very extraordinary +impression, and here someone seemed to be speaking expressly for him; +the student began telling his friend various details about Alyona +Ivanovna. + +“She is first-rate,” he said. “You can always get money from her. She is +as rich as a Jew, she can give you five thousand roubles at a time and +she is not above taking a pledge for a rouble. Lots of our fellows have +had dealings with her. But she is an awful old harpy....” + +And he began describing how spiteful and uncertain she was, how if you +were only a day late with your interest the pledge was lost; how she +gave a quarter of the value of an article and took five and even seven +percent a month on it and so on. The student chattered on, saying +that she had a sister Lizaveta, whom the wretched little creature was +continually beating, and kept in complete bondage like a small child, +though Lizaveta was at least six feet high. + +“There’s a phenomenon for you,” cried the student and he laughed. + +They began talking about Lizaveta. The student spoke about her with a +peculiar relish and was continually laughing and the officer listened +with great interest and asked him to send Lizaveta to do some mending +for him. Raskolnikov did not miss a word and learned everything about +her. Lizaveta was younger than the old woman and was her half-sister, +being the child of a different mother. She was thirty-five. She worked +day and night for her sister, and besides doing the cooking and the +washing, she did sewing and worked as a charwoman and gave her sister +all she earned. She did not dare to accept an order or job of any kind +without her sister’s permission. The old woman had already made her +will, and Lizaveta knew of it, and by this will she would not get a +farthing; nothing but the movables, chairs and so on; all the money was +left to a monastery in the province of N----, that prayers might be +said for her in perpetuity. Lizaveta was of lower rank than her sister, +unmarried and awfully uncouth in appearance, remarkably tall with long +feet that looked as if they were bent outwards. She always wore battered +goatskin shoes, and was clean in her person. What the student expressed +most surprise and amusement about was the fact that Lizaveta was +continually with child. + +“But you say she is hideous?” observed the officer. + +“Yes, she is so dark-skinned and looks like a soldier dressed up, but +you know she is not at all hideous. She has such a good-natured face +and eyes. Strikingly so. And the proof of it is that lots of people are +attracted by her. She is such a soft, gentle creature, ready to put up +with anything, always willing, willing to do anything. And her smile is +really very sweet.” + +“You seem to find her attractive yourself,” laughed the officer. + +“From her queerness. No, I’ll tell you what. I could kill that damned +old woman and make off with her money, I assure you, without the +faintest conscience-prick,” the student added with warmth. The officer +laughed again while Raskolnikov shuddered. How strange it was! + +“Listen, I want to ask you a serious question,” the student said hotly. +“I was joking of course, but look here; on one side we have a stupid, +senseless, worthless, spiteful, ailing, horrid old woman, not simply +useless but doing actual mischief, who has not an idea what she is +living for herself, and who will die in a day or two in any case. You +understand? You understand?” + +“Yes, yes, I understand,” answered the officer, watching his excited +companion attentively. + +“Well, listen then. On the other side, fresh young lives thrown away for +want of help and by thousands, on every side! A hundred thousand good +deeds could be done and helped, on that old woman’s money which will be +buried in a monastery! Hundreds, thousands perhaps, might be set on the +right path; dozens of families saved from destitution, from ruin, from +vice, from the Lock hospitals--and all with her money. Kill her, take +her money and with the help of it devote oneself to the service of +humanity and the good of all. What do you think, would not one tiny +crime be wiped out by thousands of good deeds? For one life thousands +would be saved from corruption and decay. One death, and a hundred lives +in exchange--it’s simple arithmetic! Besides, what value has the life of +that sickly, stupid, ill-natured old woman in the balance of existence! +No more than the life of a louse, of a black-beetle, less in fact +because the old woman is doing harm. She is wearing out the lives of +others; the other day she bit Lizaveta’s finger out of spite; it almost +had to be amputated.” + +“Of course she does not deserve to live,” remarked the officer, “but +there it is, it’s nature.” + +“Oh, well, brother, but we have to correct and direct nature, and, but +for that, we should drown in an ocean of prejudice. But for that, +there would never have been a single great man. They talk of +duty, conscience--I don’t want to say anything against duty and +conscience;--but the point is, what do we mean by them? Stay, I have +another question to ask you. Listen!” + +“No, you stay, I’ll ask you a question. Listen!” + +“Well?” + +“You are talking and speechifying away, but tell me, would you kill the +old woman _yourself_?” + +“Of course not! I was only arguing the justice of it.... It’s nothing to +do with me....” + +“But I think, if you would not do it yourself, there’s no justice about +it.... Let us have another game.” + +Raskolnikov was violently agitated. Of course, it was all ordinary +youthful talk and thought, such as he had often heard before in +different forms and on different themes. But why had he happened to hear +such a discussion and such ideas at the very moment when his own brain +was just conceiving... _the very same ideas_? And why, just at the +moment when he had brought away the embryo of his idea from the old +woman had he dropped at once upon a conversation about her? This +coincidence always seemed strange to him. This trivial talk in a tavern +had an immense influence on him in his later action; as though there had +really been in it something preordained, some guiding hint.... + +***** + +On returning from the Hay Market he flung himself on the sofa and sat +for a whole hour without stirring. Meanwhile it got dark; he had no +candle and, indeed, it did not occur to him to light up. He could never +recollect whether he had been thinking about anything at that time. At +last he was conscious of his former fever and shivering, and he realised +with relief that he could lie down on the sofa. Soon heavy, leaden sleep +came over him, as it were crushing him. + +He slept an extraordinarily long time and without dreaming. Nastasya, +coming into his room at ten o’clock the next morning, had difficulty +in rousing him. She brought him in tea and bread. The tea was again the +second brew and again in her own tea-pot. + +“My goodness, how he sleeps!” she cried indignantly. “And he is always +asleep.” + +He got up with an effort. His head ached, he stood up, took a turn in +his garret and sank back on the sofa again. + +“Going to sleep again,” cried Nastasya. “Are you ill, eh?” + +He made no reply. + +“Do you want some tea?” + +“Afterwards,” he said with an effort, closing his eyes again and turning +to the wall. + +Nastasya stood over him. + +“Perhaps he really is ill,” she said, turned and went out. She came in +again at two o’clock with soup. He was lying as before. The tea stood +untouched. Nastasya felt positively offended and began wrathfully +rousing him. + +“Why are you lying like a log?” she shouted, looking at him with +repulsion. + +He got up, and sat down again, but said nothing and stared at the floor. + +“Are you ill or not?” asked Nastasya and again received no answer. +“You’d better go out and get a breath of air,” she said after a pause. +“Will you eat it or not?” + +“Afterwards,” he said weakly. “You can go.” + +And he motioned her out. + +She remained a little longer, looked at him with compassion and went +out. + +A few minutes afterwards, he raised his eyes and looked for a long while +at the tea and the soup. Then he took the bread, took up a spoon and +began to eat. + +He ate a little, three or four spoonfuls, without appetite, as it were +mechanically. His head ached less. After his meal he stretched himself +on the sofa again, but now he could not sleep; he lay without stirring, +with his face in the pillow. He was haunted by day-dreams and such +strange day-dreams; in one, that kept recurring, he fancied that he was +in Africa, in Egypt, in some sort of oasis. The caravan was resting, +the camels were peacefully lying down; the palms stood all around in a +complete circle; all the party were at dinner. But he was drinking water +from a spring which flowed gurgling close by. And it was so cool, it was +wonderful, wonderful, blue, cold water running among the parti-coloured +stones and over the clean sand which glistened here and there like +gold.... Suddenly he heard a clock strike. He started, roused himself, +raised his head, looked out of the window, and seeing how late it was, +suddenly jumped up wide awake as though someone had pulled him off the +sofa. He crept on tiptoe to the door, stealthily opened it and began +listening on the staircase. His heart beat terribly. But all was quiet +on the stairs as if everyone was asleep.... It seemed to him strange and +monstrous that he could have slept in such forgetfulness from the +previous day and had done nothing, had prepared nothing yet.... And +meanwhile perhaps it had struck six. And his drowsiness and stupefaction +were followed by an extraordinary, feverish, as it were distracted +haste. But the preparations to be made were few. He concentrated all his +energies on thinking of everything and forgetting nothing; and his heart +kept beating and thumping so that he could hardly breathe. First he had +to make a noose and sew it into his overcoat--a work of a moment. He +rummaged under his pillow and picked out amongst the linen stuffed away +under it, a worn out, old unwashed shirt. From its rags he tore a long +strip, a couple of inches wide and about sixteen inches long. He folded +this strip in two, took off his wide, strong summer overcoat of some +stout cotton material (his only outer garment) and began sewing the two +ends of the rag on the inside, under the left armhole. His hands shook +as he sewed, but he did it successfully so that nothing showed outside +when he put the coat on again. The needle and thread he had got ready +long before and they lay on his table in a piece of paper. As for the +noose, it was a very ingenious device of his own; the noose was intended +for the axe. It was impossible for him to carry the axe through the +street in his hands. And if hidden under his coat he would still have +had to support it with his hand, which would have been noticeable. Now +he had only to put the head of the axe in the noose, and it would hang +quietly under his arm on the inside. Putting his hand in his coat +pocket, he could hold the end of the handle all the way, so that it did +not swing; and as the coat was very full, a regular sack in fact, it +could not be seen from outside that he was holding something with the +hand that was in the pocket. This noose, too, he had designed a +fortnight before. + +When he had finished with this, he thrust his hand into a little opening +between his sofa and the floor, fumbled in the left corner and drew out +the _pledge_, which he had got ready long before and hidden there. This +pledge was, however, only a smoothly planed piece of wood the size and +thickness of a silver cigarette case. He picked up this piece of wood +in one of his wanderings in a courtyard where there was some sort of +a workshop. Afterwards he had added to the wood a thin smooth piece +of iron, which he had also picked up at the same time in the street. +Putting the iron which was a little the smaller on the piece of wood, +he fastened them very firmly, crossing and re-crossing the thread round +them; then wrapped them carefully and daintily in clean white paper and +tied up the parcel so that it would be very difficult to untie it. This +was in order to divert the attention of the old woman for a time, while +she was trying to undo the knot, and so to gain a moment. The iron strip +was added to give weight, so that the woman might not guess the first +minute that the “thing” was made of wood. All this had been stored by +him beforehand under the sofa. He had only just got the pledge out when +he heard someone suddenly about in the yard. + +“It struck six long ago.” + +“Long ago! My God!” + +He rushed to the door, listened, caught up his hat and began to descend +his thirteen steps cautiously, noiselessly, like a cat. He had still the +most important thing to do--to steal the axe from the kitchen. That the +deed must be done with an axe he had decided long ago. He had also a +pocket pruning-knife, but he could not rely on the knife and still less +on his own strength, and so resolved finally on the axe. We may note in +passing, one peculiarity in regard to all the final resolutions taken by +him in the matter; they had one strange characteristic: the more final +they were, the more hideous and the more absurd they at once became in +his eyes. In spite of all his agonising inward struggle, he never for +a single instant all that time could believe in the carrying out of his +plans. + +And, indeed, if it had ever happened that everything to the least point +could have been considered and finally settled, and no uncertainty of +any kind had remained, he would, it seems, have renounced it all +as something absurd, monstrous and impossible. But a whole mass of +unsettled points and uncertainties remained. As for getting the axe, +that trifling business cost him no anxiety, for nothing could be easier. +Nastasya was continually out of the house, especially in the evenings; +she would run in to the neighbours or to a shop, and always left the +door ajar. It was the one thing the landlady was always scolding her +about. And so, when the time came, he would only have to go quietly into +the kitchen and to take the axe, and an hour later (when everything +was over) go in and put it back again. But these were doubtful points. +Supposing he returned an hour later to put it back, and Nastasya had +come back and was on the spot. He would of course have to go by and wait +till she went out again. But supposing she were in the meantime to miss +the axe, look for it, make an outcry--that would mean suspicion or at +least grounds for suspicion. + +But those were all trifles which he had not even begun to consider, and +indeed he had no time. He was thinking of the chief point, and put off +trifling details, until _he could believe in it all_. But that seemed +utterly unattainable. So it seemed to himself at least. He could not +imagine, for instance, that he would sometime leave off thinking, get +up and simply go there.... Even his late experiment (i.e. his visit with +the object of a final survey of the place) was simply an attempt at +an experiment, far from being the real thing, as though one should say +“come, let us go and try it--why dream about it!”--and at once he +had broken down and had run away cursing, in a frenzy with himself. +Meanwhile it would seem, as regards the moral question, that his +analysis was complete; his casuistry had become keen as a razor, and he +could not find rational objections in himself. But in the last resort +he simply ceased to believe in himself, and doggedly, slavishly sought +arguments in all directions, fumbling for them, as though someone were +forcing and drawing him to it. + +At first--long before indeed--he had been much occupied with one +question; why almost all crimes are so badly concealed and so easily +detected, and why almost all criminals leave such obvious traces? He +had come gradually to many different and curious conclusions, and in his +opinion the chief reason lay not so much in the material impossibility +of concealing the crime, as in the criminal himself. Almost every +criminal is subject to a failure of will and reasoning power by a +childish and phenomenal heedlessness, at the very instant when prudence +and caution are most essential. It was his conviction that this eclipse +of reason and failure of will power attacked a man like a disease, +developed gradually and reached its highest point just before the +perpetration of the crime, continued with equal violence at the moment +of the crime and for longer or shorter time after, according to the +individual case, and then passed off like any other disease. The +question whether the disease gives rise to the crime, or whether the +crime from its own peculiar nature is always accompanied by something of +the nature of disease, he did not yet feel able to decide. + +When he reached these conclusions, he decided that in his own case there +could not be such a morbid reaction, that his reason and will would +remain unimpaired at the time of carrying out his design, for the +simple reason that his design was “not a crime....” We will omit all the +process by means of which he arrived at this last conclusion; we have +run too far ahead already.... We may add only that the practical, purely +material difficulties of the affair occupied a secondary position in his +mind. “One has but to keep all one’s will-power and reason to deal +with them, and they will all be overcome at the time when once one has +familiarised oneself with the minutest details of the business....” But +this preparation had never been begun. His final decisions were what he +came to trust least, and when the hour struck, it all came to pass quite +differently, as it were accidentally and unexpectedly. + +One trifling circumstance upset his calculations, before he had even +left the staircase. When he reached the landlady’s kitchen, the door +of which was open as usual, he glanced cautiously in to see whether, in +Nastasya’s absence, the landlady herself was there, or if not, whether +the door to her own room was closed, so that she might not peep out when +he went in for the axe. But what was his amazement when he suddenly +saw that Nastasya was not only at home in the kitchen, but was occupied +there, taking linen out of a basket and hanging it on a line. Seeing +him, she left off hanging the clothes, turned to him and stared at him +all the time he was passing. He turned away his eyes, and walked past as +though he noticed nothing. But it was the end of everything; he had not +the axe! He was overwhelmed. + +“What made me think,” he reflected, as he went under the gateway, “what +made me think that she would be sure not to be at home at that moment! +Why, why, why did I assume this so certainly?” + +He was crushed and even humiliated. He could have laughed at himself in +his anger.... A dull animal rage boiled within him. + +He stood hesitating in the gateway. To go into the street, to go a walk +for appearance’ sake was revolting; to go back to his room, even more +revolting. “And what a chance I have lost for ever!” he muttered, +standing aimlessly in the gateway, just opposite the porter’s little +dark room, which was also open. Suddenly he started. From the porter’s +room, two paces away from him, something shining under the bench to the +right caught his eye.... He looked about him--nobody. He approached the +room on tiptoe, went down two steps into it and in a faint voice called +the porter. “Yes, not at home! Somewhere near though, in the yard, for +the door is wide open.” He dashed to the axe (it was an axe) and pulled +it out from under the bench, where it lay between two chunks of wood; +at once, before going out, he made it fast in the noose, he thrust both +hands into his pockets and went out of the room; no one had noticed him! +“When reason fails, the devil helps!” he thought with a strange grin. +This chance raised his spirits extraordinarily. + +He walked along quietly and sedately, without hurry, to avoid awakening +suspicion. He scarcely looked at the passers-by, tried to escape looking +at their faces at all, and to be as little noticeable as possible. +Suddenly he thought of his hat. “Good heavens! I had the money the day +before yesterday and did not get a cap to wear instead!” A curse rose +from the bottom of his soul. + +Glancing out of the corner of his eye into a shop, he saw by a clock on +the wall that it was ten minutes past seven. He had to make haste and at +the same time to go someway round, so as to approach the house from the +other side.... + +When he had happened to imagine all this beforehand, he had sometimes +thought that he would be very much afraid. But he was not very much +afraid now, was not afraid at all, indeed. His mind was even occupied +by irrelevant matters, but by nothing for long. As he passed the Yusupov +garden, he was deeply absorbed in considering the building of great +fountains, and of their refreshing effect on the atmosphere in all +the squares. By degrees he passed to the conviction that if the summer +garden were extended to the field of Mars, and perhaps joined to the +garden of the Mihailovsky Palace, it would be a splendid thing and a +great benefit to the town. Then he was interested by the question why +in all great towns men are not simply driven by necessity, but in some +peculiar way inclined to live in those parts of the town where there +are no gardens nor fountains; where there is most dirt and smell and all +sorts of nastiness. Then his own walks through the Hay Market came back +to his mind, and for a moment he waked up to reality. “What nonsense!” + he thought, “better think of nothing at all!” + +“So probably men led to execution clutch mentally at every object that +meets them on the way,” flashed through his mind, but simply flashed, +like lightning; he made haste to dismiss this thought.... And by now +he was near; here was the house, here was the gate. Suddenly a clock +somewhere struck once. “What! can it be half-past seven? Impossible, it +must be fast!” + +Luckily for him, everything went well again at the gates. At that very +moment, as though expressly for his benefit, a huge waggon of hay had +just driven in at the gate, completely screening him as he passed under +the gateway, and the waggon had scarcely had time to drive through into +the yard, before he had slipped in a flash to the right. On the other +side of the waggon he could hear shouting and quarrelling; but no one +noticed him and no one met him. Many windows looking into that huge +quadrangular yard were open at that moment, but he did not raise his +head--he had not the strength to. The staircase leading to the old +woman’s room was close by, just on the right of the gateway. He was +already on the stairs.... + +Drawing a breath, pressing his hand against his throbbing heart, and +once more feeling for the axe and setting it straight, he began softly +and cautiously ascending the stairs, listening every minute. But the +stairs, too, were quite deserted; all the doors were shut; he met no +one. One flat indeed on the first floor was wide open and painters were +at work in it, but they did not glance at him. He stood still, thought +a minute and went on. “Of course it would be better if they had not been +here, but... it’s two storeys above them.” + +And there was the fourth storey, here was the door, here was the +flat opposite, the empty one. The flat underneath the old woman’s was +apparently empty also; the visiting card nailed on the door had been +torn off--they had gone away!... He was out of breath. For one instant +the thought floated through his mind “Shall I go back?” But he made no +answer and began listening at the old woman’s door, a dead silence. Then +he listened again on the staircase, listened long and intently... +then looked about him for the last time, pulled himself together, drew +himself up, and once more tried the axe in the noose. “Am I very pale?” + he wondered. “Am I not evidently agitated? She is mistrustful.... Had I +better wait a little longer... till my heart leaves off thumping?” + +But his heart did not leave off. On the contrary, as though to spite +him, it throbbed more and more violently. He could stand it no longer, +he slowly put out his hand to the bell and rang. Half a minute later he +rang again, more loudly. + +No answer. To go on ringing was useless and out of place. The old woman +was, of course, at home, but she was suspicious and alone. He had some +knowledge of her habits... and once more he put his ear to the door. +Either his senses were peculiarly keen (which it is difficult to +suppose), or the sound was really very distinct. Anyway, he suddenly +heard something like the cautious touch of a hand on the lock and the +rustle of a skirt at the very door. Someone was standing stealthily +close to the lock and just as he was doing on the outside was secretly +listening within, and seemed to have her ear to the door.... He moved +a little on purpose and muttered something aloud that he might not have +the appearance of hiding, then rang a third time, but quietly, soberly, +and without impatience, Recalling it afterwards, that moment stood out +in his mind vividly, distinctly, for ever; he could not make out how he +had had such cunning, for his mind was as it were clouded at moments and +he was almost unconscious of his body.... An instant later he heard the +latch unfastened. + + + +CHAPTER VII + +The door was as before opened a tiny crack, and again two sharp and +suspicious eyes stared at him out of the darkness. Then Raskolnikov lost +his head and nearly made a great mistake. + +Fearing the old woman would be frightened by their being alone, and not +hoping that the sight of him would disarm her suspicions, he took +hold of the door and drew it towards him to prevent the old woman from +attempting to shut it again. Seeing this she did not pull the door back, +but she did not let go the handle so that he almost dragged her out with +it on to the stairs. Seeing that she was standing in the doorway not +allowing him to pass, he advanced straight upon her. She stepped back +in alarm, tried to say something, but seemed unable to speak and stared +with open eyes at him. + +“Good evening, Alyona Ivanovna,” he began, trying to speak easily, but +his voice would not obey him, it broke and shook. “I have come... I have +brought something... but we’d better come in... to the light....” + +And leaving her, he passed straight into the room uninvited. The old +woman ran after him; her tongue was unloosed. + +“Good heavens! What it is? Who is it? What do you want?” + +“Why, Alyona Ivanovna, you know me... Raskolnikov... here, I brought you +the pledge I promised the other day...” And he held out the pledge. + +The old woman glanced for a moment at the pledge, but at once stared in +the eyes of her uninvited visitor. She looked intently, maliciously and +mistrustfully. A minute passed; he even fancied something like a sneer +in her eyes, as though she had already guessed everything. He felt that +he was losing his head, that he was almost frightened, so frightened +that if she were to look like that and not say a word for another half +minute, he thought he would have run away from her. + +“Why do you look at me as though you did not know me?” he said suddenly, +also with malice. “Take it if you like, if not I’ll go elsewhere, I am +in a hurry.” + +He had not even thought of saying this, but it was suddenly said of +itself. The old woman recovered herself, and her visitor’s resolute tone +evidently restored her confidence. + +“But why, my good sir, all of a minute.... What is it?” she asked, +looking at the pledge. + +“The silver cigarette case; I spoke of it last time, you know.” + +She held out her hand. + +“But how pale you are, to be sure... and your hands are trembling too? +Have you been bathing, or what?” + +“Fever,” he answered abruptly. “You can’t help getting pale... if you’ve +nothing to eat,” he added, with difficulty articulating the words. + +His strength was failing him again. But his answer sounded like the +truth; the old woman took the pledge. + +“What is it?” she asked once more, scanning Raskolnikov intently, and +weighing the pledge in her hand. + +“A thing... cigarette case.... Silver.... Look at it.” + +“It does not seem somehow like silver.... How he has wrapped it up!” + +Trying to untie the string and turning to the window, to the light (all +her windows were shut, in spite of the stifling heat), she left +him altogether for some seconds and stood with her back to him. He +unbuttoned his coat and freed the axe from the noose, but did not yet +take it out altogether, simply holding it in his right hand under the +coat. His hands were fearfully weak, he felt them every moment growing +more numb and more wooden. He was afraid he would let the axe slip and +fall.... A sudden giddiness came over him. + +“But what has he tied it up like this for?” the old woman cried with +vexation and moved towards him. + +He had not a minute more to lose. He pulled the axe quite out, swung +it with both arms, scarcely conscious of himself, and almost without +effort, almost mechanically, brought the blunt side down on her head. He +seemed not to use his own strength in this. But as soon as he had once +brought the axe down, his strength returned to him. + +The old woman was as always bareheaded. Her thin, light hair, streaked +with grey, thickly smeared with grease, was plaited in a rat’s tail and +fastened by a broken horn comb which stood out on the nape of her neck. +As she was so short, the blow fell on the very top of her skull. She +cried out, but very faintly, and suddenly sank all of a heap on the +floor, raising her hands to her head. In one hand she still held “the +pledge.” Then he dealt her another and another blow with the blunt side +and on the same spot. The blood gushed as from an overturned glass, the +body fell back. He stepped back, let it fall, and at once bent over her +face; she was dead. Her eyes seemed to be starting out of their sockets, +the brow and the whole face were drawn and contorted convulsively. + +He laid the axe on the ground near the dead body and felt at once in her +pocket (trying to avoid the streaming body)--the same right-hand pocket +from which she had taken the key on his last visit. He was in full +possession of his faculties, free from confusion or giddiness, but his +hands were still trembling. He remembered afterwards that he had been +particularly collected and careful, trying all the time not to get +smeared with blood.... He pulled out the keys at once, they were all, +as before, in one bunch on a steel ring. He ran at once into the bedroom +with them. It was a very small room with a whole shrine of holy images. +Against the other wall stood a big bed, very clean and covered with +a silk patchwork wadded quilt. Against a third wall was a chest of +drawers. Strange to say, so soon as he began to fit the keys into the +chest, so soon as he heard their jingling, a convulsive shudder passed +over him. He suddenly felt tempted again to give it all up and go +away. But that was only for an instant; it was too late to go back. +He positively smiled at himself, when suddenly another terrifying idea +occurred to his mind. He suddenly fancied that the old woman might be +still alive and might recover her senses. Leaving the keys in the chest, +he ran back to the body, snatched up the axe and lifted it once more +over the old woman, but did not bring it down. There was no doubt that +she was dead. Bending down and examining her again more closely, he saw +clearly that the skull was broken and even battered in on one side. He +was about to feel it with his finger, but drew back his hand and indeed +it was evident without that. Meanwhile there was a perfect pool of +blood. All at once he noticed a string on her neck; he tugged at it, but +the string was strong and did not snap and besides, it was soaked +with blood. He tried to pull it out from the front of the dress, but +something held it and prevented its coming. In his impatience he raised +the axe again to cut the string from above on the body, but did not +dare, and with difficulty, smearing his hand and the axe in the blood, +after two minutes’ hurried effort, he cut the string and took it off +without touching the body with the axe; he was not mistaken--it was a +purse. On the string were two crosses, one of Cyprus wood and one of +copper, and an image in silver filigree, and with them a small greasy +chamois leather purse with a steel rim and ring. The purse was stuffed +very full; Raskolnikov thrust it in his pocket without looking at it, +flung the crosses on the old woman’s body and rushed back into the +bedroom, this time taking the axe with him. + +He was in terrible haste, he snatched the keys, and began trying them +again. But he was unsuccessful. They would not fit in the locks. It +was not so much that his hands were shaking, but that he kept making +mistakes; though he saw for instance that a key was not the right one +and would not fit, still he tried to put it in. Suddenly he remembered +and realised that the big key with the deep notches, which was hanging +there with the small keys could not possibly belong to the chest of +drawers (on his last visit this had struck him), but to some strong box, +and that everything perhaps was hidden in that box. He left the chest +of drawers, and at once felt under the bedstead, knowing that old +women usually keep boxes under their beds. And so it was; there was a +good-sized box under the bed, at least a yard in length, with an arched +lid covered with red leather and studded with steel nails. The notched +key fitted at once and unlocked it. At the top, under a white sheet, was +a coat of red brocade lined with hareskin; under it was a silk dress, +then a shawl and it seemed as though there was nothing below but +clothes. The first thing he did was to wipe his blood-stained hands on +the red brocade. “It’s red, and on red blood will be less noticeable,” + the thought passed through his mind; then he suddenly came to himself. +“Good God, am I going out of my senses?” he thought with terror. + +But no sooner did he touch the clothes than a gold watch slipped from +under the fur coat. He made haste to turn them all over. There turned +out to be various articles made of gold among the clothes--probably +all pledges, unredeemed or waiting to be redeemed--bracelets, chains, +ear-rings, pins and such things. Some were in cases, others simply +wrapped in newspaper, carefully and exactly folded, and tied round with +tape. Without any delay, he began filling up the pockets of his trousers +and overcoat without examining or undoing the parcels and cases; but he +had not time to take many.... + +He suddenly heard steps in the room where the old woman lay. He stopped +short and was still as death. But all was quiet, so it must have been +his fancy. All at once he heard distinctly a faint cry, as though +someone had uttered a low broken moan. Then again dead silence for +a minute or two. He sat squatting on his heels by the box and waited +holding his breath. Suddenly he jumped up, seized the axe and ran out of +the bedroom. + +In the middle of the room stood Lizaveta with a big bundle in her arms. +She was gazing in stupefaction at her murdered sister, white as a sheet +and seeming not to have the strength to cry out. Seeing him run out +of the bedroom, she began faintly quivering all over, like a leaf, a +shudder ran down her face; she lifted her hand, opened her mouth, but +still did not scream. She began slowly backing away from him into the +corner, staring intently, persistently at him, but still uttered no +sound, as though she could not get breath to scream. He rushed at her +with the axe; her mouth twitched piteously, as one sees babies’ mouths, +when they begin to be frightened, stare intently at what frightens them +and are on the point of screaming. And this hapless Lizaveta was so +simple and had been so thoroughly crushed and scared that she did not +even raise a hand to guard her face, though that was the most necessary +and natural action at the moment, for the axe was raised over her face. +She only put up her empty left hand, but not to her face, slowly holding +it out before her as though motioning him away. The axe fell with the +sharp edge just on the skull and split at one blow all the top of the +head. She fell heavily at once. Raskolnikov completely lost his head, +snatching up her bundle, dropped it again and ran into the entry. + +Fear gained more and more mastery over him, especially after this +second, quite unexpected murder. He longed to run away from the place +as fast as possible. And if at that moment he had been capable of seeing +and reasoning more correctly, if he had been able to realise all the +difficulties of his position, the hopelessness, the hideousness and the +absurdity of it, if he could have understood how many obstacles and, +perhaps, crimes he had still to overcome or to commit, to get out of +that place and to make his way home, it is very possible that he would +have flung up everything, and would have gone to give himself up, and +not from fear, but from simple horror and loathing of what he had +done. The feeling of loathing especially surged up within him and grew +stronger every minute. He would not now have gone to the box or even +into the room for anything in the world. + +But a sort of blankness, even dreaminess, had begun by degrees to take +possession of him; at moments he forgot himself, or rather, forgot what +was of importance, and caught at trifles. Glancing, however, into the +kitchen and seeing a bucket half full of water on a bench, he bethought +him of washing his hands and the axe. His hands were sticky with blood. +He dropped the axe with the blade in the water, snatched a piece of soap +that lay in a broken saucer on the window, and began washing his hands +in the bucket. When they were clean, he took out the axe, washed the +blade and spent a long time, about three minutes, washing the wood where +there were spots of blood rubbing them with soap. Then he wiped it all +with some linen that was hanging to dry on a line in the kitchen and +then he was a long while attentively examining the axe at the window. +There was no trace left on it, only the wood was still damp. He +carefully hung the axe in the noose under his coat. Then as far as was +possible, in the dim light in the kitchen, he looked over his overcoat, +his trousers and his boots. At the first glance there seemed to be +nothing but stains on the boots. He wetted the rag and rubbed the boots. +But he knew he was not looking thoroughly, that there might be something +quite noticeable that he was overlooking. He stood in the middle of the +room, lost in thought. Dark agonising ideas rose in his mind--the idea +that he was mad and that at that moment he was incapable of reasoning, +of protecting himself, that he ought perhaps to be doing something +utterly different from what he was now doing. “Good God!” he muttered “I +must fly, fly,” and he rushed into the entry. But here a shock of terror +awaited him such as he had never known before. + +He stood and gazed and could not believe his eyes: the door, the outer +door from the stairs, at which he had not long before waited and rung, +was standing unfastened and at least six inches open. No lock, no bolt, +all the time, all that time! The old woman had not shut it after him +perhaps as a precaution. But, good God! Why, he had seen Lizaveta +afterwards! And how could he, how could he have failed to reflect that +she must have come in somehow! She could not have come through the wall! + +He dashed to the door and fastened the latch. + +“But no, the wrong thing again! I must get away, get away....” + +He unfastened the latch, opened the door and began listening on the +staircase. + +He listened a long time. Somewhere far away, it might be in the gateway, +two voices were loudly and shrilly shouting, quarrelling and scolding. +“What are they about?” He waited patiently. At last all was still, as +though suddenly cut off; they had separated. He was meaning to go out, +but suddenly, on the floor below, a door was noisily opened and someone +began going downstairs humming a tune. “How is it they all make such +a noise?” flashed through his mind. Once more he closed the door and +waited. At last all was still, not a soul stirring. He was just taking a +step towards the stairs when he heard fresh footsteps. + +The steps sounded very far off, at the very bottom of the stairs, but +he remembered quite clearly and distinctly that from the first sound he +began for some reason to suspect that this was someone coming _there_, +to the fourth floor, to the old woman. Why? Were the sounds somehow +peculiar, significant? The steps were heavy, even and unhurried. Now +_he_ had passed the first floor, now he was mounting higher, it was +growing more and more distinct! He could hear his heavy breathing. And +now the third storey had been reached. Coming here! And it seemed to +him all at once that he was turned to stone, that it was like a dream +in which one is being pursued, nearly caught and will be killed, and is +rooted to the spot and cannot even move one’s arms. + +At last when the unknown was mounting to the fourth floor, he suddenly +started, and succeeded in slipping neatly and quickly back into the +flat and closing the door behind him. Then he took the hook and softly, +noiselessly, fixed it in the catch. Instinct helped him. When he had +done this, he crouched holding his breath, by the door. The unknown +visitor was by now also at the door. They were now standing opposite one +another, as he had just before been standing with the old woman, when +the door divided them and he was listening. + +The visitor panted several times. “He must be a big, fat man,” thought +Raskolnikov, squeezing the axe in his hand. It seemed like a dream +indeed. The visitor took hold of the bell and rang it loudly. + +As soon as the tin bell tinkled, Raskolnikov seemed to be aware of +something moving in the room. For some seconds he listened quite +seriously. The unknown rang again, waited and suddenly tugged violently +and impatiently at the handle of the door. Raskolnikov gazed in horror +at the hook shaking in its fastening, and in blank terror expected every +minute that the fastening would be pulled out. It certainly did seem +possible, so violently was he shaking it. He was tempted to hold the +fastening, but _he_ might be aware of it. A giddiness came over him +again. “I shall fall down!” flashed through his mind, but the unknown +began to speak and he recovered himself at once. + +“What’s up? Are they asleep or murdered? D-damn them!” he bawled in a +thick voice, “Hey, Alyona Ivanovna, old witch! Lizaveta Ivanovna, hey, +my beauty! open the door! Oh, damn them! Are they asleep or what?” + +And again, enraged, he tugged with all his might a dozen times at +the bell. He must certainly be a man of authority and an intimate +acquaintance. + +At this moment light hurried steps were heard not far off, on the +stairs. Someone else was approaching. Raskolnikov had not heard them at +first. + +“You don’t say there’s no one at home,” the new-comer cried in a +cheerful, ringing voice, addressing the first visitor, who still went on +pulling the bell. “Good evening, Koch.” + +“From his voice he must be quite young,” thought Raskolnikov. + +“Who the devil can tell? I’ve almost broken the lock,” answered Koch. +“But how do you come to know me?” + +“Why! The day before yesterday I beat you three times running at +billiards at Gambrinus’.” + +“Oh!” + +“So they are not at home? That’s queer. It’s awfully stupid though. +Where could the old woman have gone? I’ve come on business.” + +“Yes; and I have business with her, too.” + +“Well, what can we do? Go back, I suppose, Aie--aie! And I was hoping to +get some money!” cried the young man. + +“We must give it up, of course, but what did she fix this time for? The +old witch fixed the time for me to come herself. It’s out of my way. +And where the devil she can have got to, I can’t make out. She sits here +from year’s end to year’s end, the old hag; her legs are bad and yet +here all of a sudden she is out for a walk!” + +“Hadn’t we better ask the porter?” + +“What?” + +“Where she’s gone and when she’ll be back.” + +“Hm.... Damn it all!... We might ask.... But you know she never does go +anywhere.” + +And he once more tugged at the door-handle. + +“Damn it all. There’s nothing to be done, we must go!” + +“Stay!” cried the young man suddenly. “Do you see how the door shakes if +you pull it?” + +“Well?” + +“That shows it’s not locked, but fastened with the hook! Do you hear how +the hook clanks?” + +“Well?” + +“Why, don’t you see? That proves that one of them is at home. If they +were all out, they would have locked the door from the outside with the +key and not with the hook from inside. There, do you hear how the hook +is clanking? To fasten the hook on the inside they must be at home, +don’t you see. So there they are sitting inside and don’t open the +door!” + +“Well! And so they must be!” cried Koch, astonished. “What are they +about in there?” And he began furiously shaking the door. + +“Stay!” cried the young man again. “Don’t pull at it! There must be +something wrong.... Here, you’ve been ringing and pulling at the door +and still they don’t open! So either they’ve both fainted or...” + +“What?” + +“I tell you what. Let’s go fetch the porter, let him wake them up.” + +“All right.” + +Both were going down. + +“Stay. You stop here while I run down for the porter.” + +“What for?” + +“Well, you’d better.” + +“All right.” + +“I’m studying the law you see! It’s evident, e-vi-dent there’s something +wrong here!” the young man cried hotly, and he ran downstairs. + +Koch remained. Once more he softly touched the bell which gave one +tinkle, then gently, as though reflecting and looking about him, began +touching the door-handle pulling it and letting it go to make sure once +more that it was only fastened by the hook. Then puffing and panting he +bent down and began looking at the keyhole: but the key was in the lock +on the inside and so nothing could be seen. + +Raskolnikov stood keeping tight hold of the axe. He was in a sort of +delirium. He was even making ready to fight when they should come in. +While they were knocking and talking together, the idea several times +occurred to him to end it all at once and shout to them through the +door. Now and then he was tempted to swear at them, to jeer at them, +while they could not open the door! “Only make haste!” was the thought +that flashed through his mind. + +“But what the devil is he about?...” Time was passing, one minute, and +another--no one came. Koch began to be restless. + +“What the devil?” he cried suddenly and in impatience deserting his +sentry duty, he, too, went down, hurrying and thumping with his heavy +boots on the stairs. The steps died away. + +“Good heavens! What am I to do?” + +Raskolnikov unfastened the hook, opened the door--there was no sound. +Abruptly, without any thought at all, he went out, closing the door as +thoroughly as he could, and went downstairs. + +He had gone down three flights when he suddenly heard a loud voice +below--where could he go! There was nowhere to hide. He was just going +back to the flat. + +“Hey there! Catch the brute!” + +Somebody dashed out of a flat below, shouting, and rather fell than ran +down the stairs, bawling at the top of his voice. + +“Mitka! Mitka! Mitka! Mitka! Mitka! Blast him!” + +The shout ended in a shriek; the last sounds came from the yard; all was +still. But at the same instant several men talking loud and fast began +noisily mounting the stairs. There were three or four of them. He +distinguished the ringing voice of the young man. “Hey!” + +Filled with despair he went straight to meet them, feeling “come what +must!” If they stopped him--all was lost; if they let him pass--all was +lost too; they would remember him. They were approaching; they were only +a flight from him--and suddenly deliverance! A few steps from him on the +right, there was an empty flat with the door wide open, the flat on the +second floor where the painters had been at work, and which, as though +for his benefit, they had just left. It was they, no doubt, who had just +run down, shouting. The floor had only just been painted, in the middle +of the room stood a pail and a broken pot with paint and brushes. In one +instant he had whisked in at the open door and hidden behind the wall +and only in the nick of time; they had already reached the landing. +Then they turned and went on up to the fourth floor, talking loudly. He +waited, went out on tiptoe and ran down the stairs. + +No one was on the stairs, nor in the gateway. He passed quickly through +the gateway and turned to the left in the street. + +He knew, he knew perfectly well that at that moment they were at the +flat, that they were greatly astonished at finding it unlocked, as +the door had just been fastened, that by now they were looking at the +bodies, that before another minute had passed they would guess and +completely realise that the murderer had just been there, and had +succeeded in hiding somewhere, slipping by them and escaping. They would +guess most likely that he had been in the empty flat, while they were +going upstairs. And meanwhile he dared not quicken his pace much, though +the next turning was still nearly a hundred yards away. “Should he +slip through some gateway and wait somewhere in an unknown street? No, +hopeless! Should he fling away the axe? Should he take a cab? Hopeless, +hopeless!” + +At last he reached the turning. He turned down it more dead than alive. +Here he was half way to safety, and he understood it; it was less risky +because there was a great crowd of people, and he was lost in it like a +grain of sand. But all he had suffered had so weakened him that he could +scarcely move. Perspiration ran down him in drops, his neck was all wet. +“My word, he has been going it!” someone shouted at him when he came out +on the canal bank. + +He was only dimly conscious of himself now, and the farther he went the +worse it was. He remembered however, that on coming out on to the canal +bank, he was alarmed at finding few people there and so being more +conspicuous, and he had thought of turning back. Though he was almost +falling from fatigue, he went a long way round so as to get home from +quite a different direction. + +He was not fully conscious when he passed through the gateway of his +house! He was already on the staircase before he recollected the axe. +And yet he had a very grave problem before him, to put it back and to +escape observation as far as possible in doing so. He was of course +incapable of reflecting that it might perhaps be far better not to +restore the axe at all, but to drop it later on in somebody’s yard. But +it all happened fortunately, the door of the porter’s room was closed +but not locked, so that it seemed most likely that the porter was at +home. But he had so completely lost all power of reflection that he +walked straight to the door and opened it. If the porter had asked him, +“What do you want?” he would perhaps have simply handed him the axe. But +again the porter was not at home, and he succeeded in putting the axe +back under the bench, and even covering it with the chunk of wood as +before. He met no one, not a soul, afterwards on the way to his room; +the landlady’s door was shut. When he was in his room, he flung himself +on the sofa just as he was--he did not sleep, but sank into blank +forgetfulness. If anyone had come into his room then, he would have +jumped up at once and screamed. Scraps and shreds of thoughts were +simply swarming in his brain, but he could not catch at one, he could +not rest on one, in spite of all his efforts.... + + + + +PART II + + + +CHAPTER I + +So he lay a very long while. Now and then he seemed to wake up, and at +such moments he noticed that it was far into the night, but it did not +occur to him to get up. At last he noticed that it was beginning to get +light. He was lying on his back, still dazed from his recent oblivion. +Fearful, despairing cries rose shrilly from the street, sounds which he +heard every night, indeed, under his window after two o’clock. They woke +him up now. + +“Ah! the drunken men are coming out of the taverns,” he thought, “it’s +past two o’clock,” and at once he leaped up, as though someone had +pulled him from the sofa. + +“What! Past two o’clock!” + +He sat down on the sofa--and instantly recollected everything! All at +once, in one flash, he recollected everything. + +For the first moment he thought he was going mad. A dreadful chill came +over him; but the chill was from the fever that had begun long before in +his sleep. Now he was suddenly taken with violent shivering, so that his +teeth chattered and all his limbs were shaking. He opened the door and +began listening--everything in the house was asleep. With amazement he +gazed at himself and everything in the room around him, wondering how he +could have come in the night before without fastening the door, and have +flung himself on the sofa without undressing, without even taking his +hat off. It had fallen off and was lying on the floor near his pillow. + +“If anyone had come in, what would he have thought? That I’m drunk +but...” + +He rushed to the window. There was light enough, and he began hurriedly +looking himself all over from head to foot, all his clothes; were there +no traces? But there was no doing it like that; shivering with cold, he +began taking off everything and looking over again. He turned everything +over to the last threads and rags, and mistrusting himself, went through +his search three times. + +But there seemed to be nothing, no trace, except in one place, where +some thick drops of congealed blood were clinging to the frayed edge +of his trousers. He picked up a big claspknife and cut off the frayed +threads. There seemed to be nothing more. + +Suddenly he remembered that the purse and the things he had taken out of +the old woman’s box were still in his pockets! He had not thought till +then of taking them out and hiding them! He had not even thought of them +while he was examining his clothes! What next? Instantly he rushed +to take them out and fling them on the table. When he had pulled out +everything, and turned the pocket inside out to be sure there was +nothing left, he carried the whole heap to the corner. The paper had +come off the bottom of the wall and hung there in tatters. He began +stuffing all the things into the hole under the paper: “They’re in! All +out of sight, and the purse too!” he thought gleefully, getting up and +gazing blankly at the hole which bulged out more than ever. Suddenly +he shuddered all over with horror; “My God!” he whispered in despair: +“what’s the matter with me? Is that hidden? Is that the way to hide +things?” + +He had not reckoned on having trinkets to hide. He had only thought of +money, and so had not prepared a hiding-place. + +“But now, now, what am I glad of?” he thought, “Is that hiding things? +My reason’s deserting me--simply!” + +He sat down on the sofa in exhaustion and was at once shaken by another +unbearable fit of shivering. Mechanically he drew from a chair beside +him his old student’s winter coat, which was still warm though almost in +rags, covered himself up with it and once more sank into drowsiness and +delirium. He lost consciousness. + +Not more than five minutes had passed when he jumped up a second time, +and at once pounced in a frenzy on his clothes again. + +“How could I go to sleep again with nothing done? Yes, yes; I have not +taken the loop off the armhole! I forgot it, forgot a thing like that! +Such a piece of evidence!” + +He pulled off the noose, hurriedly cut it to pieces and threw the bits +among his linen under the pillow. + +“Pieces of torn linen couldn’t rouse suspicion, whatever happened; I +think not, I think not, any way!” he repeated, standing in the middle +of the room, and with painful concentration he fell to gazing about +him again, at the floor and everywhere, trying to make sure he had not +forgotten anything. The conviction that all his faculties, even memory, +and the simplest power of reflection were failing him, began to be an +insufferable torture. + +“Surely it isn’t beginning already! Surely it isn’t my punishment coming +upon me? It is!” + +The frayed rags he had cut off his trousers were actually lying on the +floor in the middle of the room, where anyone coming in would see them! + +“What is the matter with me!” he cried again, like one distraught. + +Then a strange idea entered his head; that, perhaps, all his clothes +were covered with blood, that, perhaps, there were a great many +stains, but that he did not see them, did not notice them because +his perceptions were failing, were going to pieces... his reason was +clouded.... Suddenly he remembered that there had been blood on the +purse too. “Ah! Then there must be blood on the pocket too, for I put +the wet purse in my pocket!” + +In a flash he had turned the pocket inside out and, yes!--there were +traces, stains on the lining of the pocket! + +“So my reason has not quite deserted me, so I still have some sense and +memory, since I guessed it of myself,” he thought triumphantly, with +a deep sigh of relief; “it’s simply the weakness of fever, a moment’s +delirium,” and he tore the whole lining out of the left pocket of his +trousers. At that instant the sunlight fell on his left boot; on the +sock which poked out from the boot, he fancied there were traces! He +flung off his boots; “traces indeed! The tip of the sock was soaked with +blood;” he must have unwarily stepped into that pool.... “But what am I +to do with this now? Where am I to put the sock and rags and pocket?” + +He gathered them all up in his hands and stood in the middle of the +room. + +“In the stove? But they would ransack the stove first of all. Burn them? +But what can I burn them with? There are no matches even. No, better +go out and throw it all away somewhere. Yes, better throw it away,” he +repeated, sitting down on the sofa again, “and at once, this minute, +without lingering...” + +But his head sank on the pillow instead. Again the unbearable icy +shivering came over him; again he drew his coat over him. + +And for a long while, for some hours, he was haunted by the impulse to +“go off somewhere at once, this moment, and fling it all away, so that +it may be out of sight and done with, at once, at once!” Several times +he tried to rise from the sofa, but could not. + +He was thoroughly waked up at last by a violent knocking at his door. + +“Open, do, are you dead or alive? He keeps sleeping here!” shouted +Nastasya, banging with her fist on the door. “For whole days together +he’s snoring here like a dog! A dog he is too. Open I tell you. It’s +past ten.” + +“Maybe he’s not at home,” said a man’s voice. + +“Ha! that’s the porter’s voice.... What does he want?” + +He jumped up and sat on the sofa. The beating of his heart was a +positive pain. + +“Then who can have latched the door?” retorted Nastasya. “He’s taken to +bolting himself in! As if he were worth stealing! Open, you stupid, wake +up!” + +“What do they want? Why the porter? All’s discovered. Resist or open? +Come what may!...” + +He half rose, stooped forward and unlatched the door. + +His room was so small that he could undo the latch without leaving the +bed. Yes; the porter and Nastasya were standing there. + +Nastasya stared at him in a strange way. He glanced with a defiant and +desperate air at the porter, who without a word held out a grey folded +paper sealed with bottle-wax. + +“A notice from the office,” he announced, as he gave him the paper. + +“From what office?” + +“A summons to the police office, of course. You know which office.” + +“To the police?... What for?...” + +“How can I tell? You’re sent for, so you go.” + +The man looked at him attentively, looked round the room and turned to +go away. + +“He’s downright ill!” observed Nastasya, not taking her eyes off him. +The porter turned his head for a moment. “He’s been in a fever since +yesterday,” she added. + +Raskolnikov made no response and held the paper in his hands, without +opening it. “Don’t you get up then,” Nastasya went on compassionately, +seeing that he was letting his feet down from the sofa. “You’re ill, and +so don’t go; there’s no such hurry. What have you got there?” + +He looked; in his right hand he held the shreds he had cut from his +trousers, the sock, and the rags of the pocket. So he had been asleep +with them in his hand. Afterwards reflecting upon it, he remembered that +half waking up in his fever, he had grasped all this tightly in his hand +and so fallen asleep again. + +“Look at the rags he’s collected and sleeps with them, as though he has +got hold of a treasure...” + +And Nastasya went off into her hysterical giggle. + +Instantly he thrust them all under his great coat and fixed his +eyes intently upon her. Far as he was from being capable of rational +reflection at that moment, he felt that no one would behave like that +with a person who was going to be arrested. “But... the police?” + +“You’d better have some tea! Yes? I’ll bring it, there’s some left.” + +“No... I’m going; I’ll go at once,” he muttered, getting on to his feet. + +“Why, you’ll never get downstairs!” + +“Yes, I’ll go.” + +“As you please.” + +She followed the porter out. + +At once he rushed to the light to examine the sock and the rags. + +“There are stains, but not very noticeable; all covered with dirt, +and rubbed and already discoloured. No one who had no suspicion could +distinguish anything. Nastasya from a distance could not have noticed, +thank God!” Then with a tremor he broke the seal of the notice and began +reading; he was a long while reading, before he understood. It was an +ordinary summons from the district police-station to appear that day at +half-past nine at the office of the district superintendent. + +“But when has such a thing happened? I never have anything to do with +the police! And why just to-day?” he thought in agonising bewilderment. +“Good God, only get it over soon!” + +He was flinging himself on his knees to pray, but broke into +laughter--not at the idea of prayer, but at himself. + +He began, hurriedly dressing. “If I’m lost, I am lost, I don’t care! +Shall I put the sock on?” he suddenly wondered, “it will get dustier +still and the traces will be gone.” + +But no sooner had he put it on than he pulled it off again in loathing +and horror. He pulled it off, but reflecting that he had no other socks, +he picked it up and put it on again--and again he laughed. + +“That’s all conventional, that’s all relative, merely a way of looking +at it,” he thought in a flash, but only on the top surface of his +mind, while he was shuddering all over, “there, I’ve got it on! I have +finished by getting it on!” + +But his laughter was quickly followed by despair. + +“No, it’s too much for me...” he thought. His legs shook. “From fear,” + he muttered. His head swam and ached with fever. “It’s a trick! They +want to decoy me there and confound me over everything,” he mused, as +he went out on to the stairs--“the worst of it is I’m almost +light-headed... I may blurt out something stupid...” + +On the stairs he remembered that he was leaving all the things just as +they were in the hole in the wall, “and very likely, it’s on purpose +to search when I’m out,” he thought, and stopped short. But he was +possessed by such despair, such cynicism of misery, if one may so call +it, that with a wave of his hand he went on. “Only to get it over!” + +In the street the heat was insufferable again; not a drop of rain had +fallen all those days. Again dust, bricks and mortar, again the stench +from the shops and pot-houses, again the drunken men, the Finnish +pedlars and half-broken-down cabs. The sun shone straight in his eyes, +so that it hurt him to look out of them, and he felt his head going +round--as a man in a fever is apt to feel when he comes out into the +street on a bright sunny day. + +When he reached the turning into _the_ street, in an agony of +trepidation he looked down it... at _the_ house... and at once averted +his eyes. + +“If they question me, perhaps I’ll simply tell,” he thought, as he drew +near the police-station. + +The police-station was about a quarter of a mile off. It had lately been +moved to new rooms on the fourth floor of a new house. He had been once +for a moment in the old office but long ago. Turning in at the gateway, +he saw on the right a flight of stairs which a peasant was mounting with +a book in his hand. “A house-porter, no doubt; so then, the office is +here,” and he began ascending the stairs on the chance. He did not want +to ask questions of anyone. + +“I’ll go in, fall on my knees, and confess everything...” he thought, as +he reached the fourth floor. + +The staircase was steep, narrow and all sloppy with dirty water. The +kitchens of the flats opened on to the stairs and stood open almost +the whole day. So there was a fearful smell and heat. The staircase +was crowded with porters going up and down with their books under their +arms, policemen, and persons of all sorts and both sexes. The door of +the office, too, stood wide open. Peasants stood waiting within. There, +too, the heat was stifling and there was a sickening smell of fresh +paint and stale oil from the newly decorated rooms. + +After waiting a little, he decided to move forward into the next room. +All the rooms were small and low-pitched. A fearful impatience drew him +on and on. No one paid attention to him. In the second room some +clerks sat writing, dressed hardly better than he was, and rather a +queer-looking set. He went up to one of them. + +“What is it?” + +He showed the notice he had received. + +“You are a student?” the man asked, glancing at the notice. + +“Yes, formerly a student.” + +The clerk looked at him, but without the slightest interest. He was a +particularly unkempt person with the look of a fixed idea in his eye. + +“There would be no getting anything out of him, because he has no +interest in anything,” thought Raskolnikov. + +“Go in there to the head clerk,” said the clerk, pointing towards the +furthest room. + +He went into that room--the fourth in order; it was a small room and +packed full of people, rather better dressed than in the outer rooms. +Among them were two ladies. One, poorly dressed in mourning, sat at the +table opposite the chief clerk, writing something at his dictation. +The other, a very stout, buxom woman with a purplish-red, blotchy face, +excessively smartly dressed with a brooch on her bosom as big as a +saucer, was standing on one side, apparently waiting for something. +Raskolnikov thrust his notice upon the head clerk. The latter glanced +at it, said: “Wait a minute,” and went on attending to the lady in +mourning. + +He breathed more freely. “It can’t be that!” + +By degrees he began to regain confidence, he kept urging himself to have +courage and be calm. + +“Some foolishness, some trifling carelessness, and I may betray myself! +Hm... it’s a pity there’s no air here,” he added, “it’s stifling.... It +makes one’s head dizzier than ever... and one’s mind too...” + +He was conscious of a terrible inner turmoil. He was afraid of losing +his self-control; he tried to catch at something and fix his mind on it, +something quite irrelevant, but he could not succeed in this at all. Yet +the head clerk greatly interested him, he kept hoping to see through him +and guess something from his face. + +He was a very young man, about two and twenty, with a dark mobile +face that looked older than his years. He was fashionably dressed and +foppish, with his hair parted in the middle, well combed and pomaded, +and wore a number of rings on his well-scrubbed fingers and a gold chain +on his waistcoat. He said a couple of words in French to a foreigner who +was in the room, and said them fairly correctly. + +“Luise Ivanovna, you can sit down,” he said casually to the +gaily-dressed, purple-faced lady, who was still standing as though not +venturing to sit down, though there was a chair beside her. + +“Ich danke,” said the latter, and softly, with a rustle of silk she sank +into the chair. Her light blue dress trimmed with white lace floated +about the table like an air-balloon and filled almost half the room. She +smelt of scent. But she was obviously embarrassed at filling half +the room and smelling so strongly of scent; and though her smile was +impudent as well as cringing, it betrayed evident uneasiness. + +The lady in mourning had done at last, and got up. All at once, with +some noise, an officer walked in very jauntily, with a peculiar swing of +his shoulders at each step. He tossed his cockaded cap on the table and +sat down in an easy-chair. The small lady positively skipped from her +seat on seeing him, and fell to curtsying in a sort of ecstasy; but the +officer took not the smallest notice of her, and she did not venture to +sit down again in his presence. He was the assistant superintendent. He +had a reddish moustache that stood out horizontally on each side of his +face, and extremely small features, expressive of nothing much except +a certain insolence. He looked askance and rather indignantly at +Raskolnikov; he was so very badly dressed, and in spite of his +humiliating position, his bearing was by no means in keeping with his +clothes. Raskolnikov had unwarily fixed a very long and direct look on +him, so that he felt positively affronted. + +“What do you want?” he shouted, apparently astonished that such a ragged +fellow was not annihilated by the majesty of his glance. + +“I was summoned... by a notice...” Raskolnikov faltered. + +“For the recovery of money due, from _the student_,” the head clerk +interfered hurriedly, tearing himself from his papers. “Here!” and he +flung Raskolnikov a document and pointed out the place. “Read that!” + +“Money? What money?” thought Raskolnikov, “but... then... it’s certainly +not _that_.” + +And he trembled with joy. He felt sudden intense indescribable relief. A +load was lifted from his back. + +“And pray, what time were you directed to appear, sir?” shouted the +assistant superintendent, seeming for some unknown reason more and more +aggrieved. “You are told to come at nine, and now it’s twelve!” + +“The notice was only brought me a quarter of an hour ago,” Raskolnikov +answered loudly over his shoulder. To his own surprise he, too, grew +suddenly angry and found a certain pleasure in it. “And it’s enough that +I have come here ill with fever.” + +“Kindly refrain from shouting!” + +“I’m not shouting, I’m speaking very quietly, it’s you who are shouting +at me. I’m a student, and allow no one to shout at me.” + +The assistant superintendent was so furious that for the first minute he +could only splutter inarticulately. He leaped up from his seat. + +“Be silent! You are in a government office. Don’t be impudent, sir!” + +“You’re in a government office, too,” cried Raskolnikov, “and you’re +smoking a cigarette as well as shouting, so you are showing disrespect +to all of us.” + +He felt an indescribable satisfaction at having said this. + +The head clerk looked at him with a smile. The angry assistant +superintendent was obviously disconcerted. + +“That’s not your business!” he shouted at last with unnatural loudness. +“Kindly make the declaration demanded of you. Show him. Alexandr +Grigorievitch. There is a complaint against you! You don’t pay your +debts! You’re a fine bird!” + +But Raskolnikov was not listening now; he had eagerly clutched at the +paper, in haste to find an explanation. He read it once, and a second +time, and still did not understand. + +“What is this?” he asked the head clerk. + +“It is for the recovery of money on an I O U, a writ. You must +either pay it, with all expenses, costs and so on, or give a written +declaration when you can pay it, and at the same time an undertaking not +to leave the capital without payment, and nor to sell or conceal your +property. The creditor is at liberty to sell your property, and proceed +against you according to the law.” + +“But I... am not in debt to anyone!” + +“That’s not our business. Here, an I O U for a hundred and fifteen +roubles, legally attested, and due for payment, has been brought us +for recovery, given by you to the widow of the assessor Zarnitsyn, nine +months ago, and paid over by the widow Zarnitsyn to one Mr. Tchebarov. +We therefore summon you, hereupon.” + +“But she is my landlady!” + +“And what if she is your landlady?” + +The head clerk looked at him with a condescending smile of compassion, +and at the same time with a certain triumph, as at a novice under fire +for the first time--as though he would say: “Well, how do you feel now?” + But what did he care now for an I O U, for a writ of recovery! Was that +worth worrying about now, was it worth attention even! He stood, he +read, he listened, he answered, he even asked questions himself, but +all mechanically. The triumphant sense of security, of deliverance from +overwhelming danger, that was what filled his whole soul that moment +without thought for the future, without analysis, without suppositions +or surmises, without doubts and without questioning. It was an instant +of full, direct, purely instinctive joy. But at that very moment +something like a thunderstorm took place in the office. The assistant +superintendent, still shaken by Raskolnikov’s disrespect, still fuming +and obviously anxious to keep up his wounded dignity, pounced on the +unfortunate smart lady, who had been gazing at him ever since he came in +with an exceedingly silly smile. + +“You shameful hussy!” he shouted suddenly at the top of his voice. (The +lady in mourning had left the office.) “What was going on at your house +last night? Eh! A disgrace again, you’re a scandal to the whole street. +Fighting and drinking again. Do you want the house of correction? Why, +I have warned you ten times over that I would not let you off the +eleventh! And here you are again, again, you... you...!” + +The paper fell out of Raskolnikov’s hands, and he looked wildly at the +smart lady who was so unceremoniously treated. But he soon saw what it +meant, and at once began to find positive amusement in the scandal. He +listened with pleasure, so that he longed to laugh and laugh... all his +nerves were on edge. + +“Ilya Petrovitch!” the head clerk was beginning anxiously, but stopped +short, for he knew from experience that the enraged assistant could not +be stopped except by force. + +As for the smart lady, at first she positively trembled before the +storm. But, strange to say, the more numerous and violent the terms of +abuse became, the more amiable she looked, and the more seductive the +smiles she lavished on the terrible assistant. She moved uneasily, and +curtsied incessantly, waiting impatiently for a chance of putting in her +word: and at last she found it. + +“There was no sort of noise or fighting in my house, Mr. Captain,” she +pattered all at once, like peas dropping, speaking Russian confidently, +though with a strong German accent, “and no sort of scandal, and his +honour came drunk, and it’s the whole truth I am telling, Mr. Captain, +and I am not to blame.... Mine is an honourable house, Mr. Captain, +and honourable behaviour, Mr. Captain, and I always, always dislike any +scandal myself. But he came quite tipsy, and asked for three bottles +again, and then he lifted up one leg, and began playing the pianoforte +with one foot, and that is not at all right in an honourable house, and +he _ganz_ broke the piano, and it was very bad manners indeed and I said +so. And he took up a bottle and began hitting everyone with it. And then +I called the porter, and Karl came, and he took Karl and hit him in the +eye; and he hit Henriette in the eye, too, and gave me five slaps on the +cheek. And it was so ungentlemanly in an honourable house, Mr. Captain, +and I screamed. And he opened the window over the canal, and stood in +the window, squealing like a little pig; it was a disgrace. The idea of +squealing like a little pig at the window into the street! Fie upon him! +And Karl pulled him away from the window by his coat, and it is true, +Mr. Captain, he tore _sein rock_. And then he shouted that _man muss_ +pay him fifteen roubles damages. And I did pay him, Mr. Captain, five +roubles for _sein rock_. And he is an ungentlemanly visitor and caused +all the scandal. ‘I will show you up,’ he said, ‘for I can write to all +the papers about you.’” + +“Then he was an author?” + +“Yes, Mr. Captain, and what an ungentlemanly visitor in an honourable +house....” + +“Now then! Enough! I have told you already...” + +“Ilya Petrovitch!” the head clerk repeated significantly. + +The assistant glanced rapidly at him; the head clerk slightly shook his +head. + +“... So I tell you this, most respectable Luise Ivanovna, and I tell it +you for the last time,” the assistant went on. “If there is a scandal +in your honourable house once again, I will put you yourself in the +lock-up, as it is called in polite society. Do you hear? So a literary +man, an author took five roubles for his coat-tail in an ‘honourable +house’? A nice set, these authors!” + +And he cast a contemptuous glance at Raskolnikov. “There was a scandal +the other day in a restaurant, too. An author had eaten his dinner and +would not pay; ‘I’ll write a satire on you,’ says he. And there was +another of them on a steamer last week used the most disgraceful +language to the respectable family of a civil councillor, his wife and +daughter. And there was one of them turned out of a confectioner’s shop +the other day. They are like that, authors, literary men, students, +town-criers.... Pfoo! You get along! I shall look in upon you myself one +day. Then you had better be careful! Do you hear?” + +With hurried deference, Luise Ivanovna fell to curtsying in all +directions, and so curtsied herself to the door. But at the door, she +stumbled backwards against a good-looking officer with a fresh, open +face and splendid thick fair whiskers. This was the superintendent of +the district himself, Nikodim Fomitch. Luise Ivanovna made haste +to curtsy almost to the ground, and with mincing little steps, she +fluttered out of the office. + +“Again thunder and lightning--a hurricane!” said Nikodim Fomitch to Ilya +Petrovitch in a civil and friendly tone. “You are aroused again, you are +fuming again! I heard it on the stairs!” + +“Well, what then!” Ilya Petrovitch drawled with gentlemanly nonchalance; +and he walked with some papers to another table, with a jaunty swing of +his shoulders at each step. “Here, if you will kindly look: an author, +or a student, has been one at least, does not pay his debts, has given +an I O U, won’t clear out of his room, and complaints are constantly +being lodged against him, and here he has been pleased to make a protest +against my smoking in his presence! He behaves like a cad himself, and +just look at him, please. Here’s the gentleman, and very attractive he +is!” + +“Poverty is not a vice, my friend, but we know you go off like powder, +you can’t bear a slight, I daresay you took offence at something and +went too far yourself,” continued Nikodim Fomitch, turning affably to +Raskolnikov. “But you were wrong there; he is a capital fellow, I assure +you, but explosive, explosive! He gets hot, fires up, boils over, and no +stopping him! And then it’s all over! And at the bottom he’s a heart of +gold! His nickname in the regiment was the Explosive Lieutenant....” + +“And what a regiment it was, too,” cried Ilya Petrovitch, much gratified +at this agreeable banter, though still sulky. + +Raskolnikov had a sudden desire to say something exceptionally pleasant +to them all. “Excuse me, Captain,” he began easily, suddenly addressing +Nikodim Fomitch, “will you enter into my position?... I am ready to +ask pardon, if I have been ill-mannered. I am a poor student, sick +and shattered (shattered was the word he used) by poverty. I am not +studying, because I cannot keep myself now, but I shall get money.... I +have a mother and sister in the province of X. They will send it to +me, and I will pay. My landlady is a good-hearted woman, but she is so +exasperated at my having lost my lessons, and not paying her for the +last four months, that she does not even send up my dinner... and I +don’t understand this I O U at all. She is asking me to pay her on this +I O U. How am I to pay her? Judge for yourselves!...” + +“But that is not our business, you know,” the head clerk was observing. + +“Yes, yes. I perfectly agree with you. But allow me to explain...” + Raskolnikov put in again, still addressing Nikodim Fomitch, but trying +his best to address Ilya Petrovitch also, though the latter persistently +appeared to be rummaging among his papers and to be contemptuously +oblivious of him. “Allow me to explain that I have been living with her +for nearly three years and at first... at first... for why should I not +confess it, at the very beginning I promised to marry her daughter, it +was a verbal promise, freely given... she was a girl... indeed, I liked +her, though I was not in love with her... a youthful affair in fact... +that is, I mean to say, that my landlady gave me credit freely in those +days, and I led a life of... I was very heedless...” + +“Nobody asks you for these personal details, sir, we’ve no time to +waste,” Ilya Petrovitch interposed roughly and with a note of triumph; +but Raskolnikov stopped him hotly, though he suddenly found it +exceedingly difficult to speak. + +“But excuse me, excuse me. It is for me to explain... how it all +happened... In my turn... though I agree with you... it is unnecessary. +But a year ago, the girl died of typhus. I remained lodging there as +before, and when my landlady moved into her present quarters, she said +to me... and in a friendly way... that she had complete trust in me, +but still, would I not give her an I O U for one hundred and fifteen +roubles, all the debt I owed her. She said if only I gave her that, +she would trust me again, as much as I liked, and that she would never, +never--those were her own words--make use of that I O U till I could pay +of myself... and now, when I have lost my lessons and have nothing to +eat, she takes action against me. What am I to say to that?” + +“All these affecting details are no business of ours.” Ilya Petrovitch +interrupted rudely. “You must give a written undertaking but as for your +love affairs and all these tragic events, we have nothing to do with +that.” + +“Come now... you are harsh,” muttered Nikodim Fomitch, sitting down at +the table and also beginning to write. He looked a little ashamed. + +“Write!” said the head clerk to Raskolnikov. + +“Write what?” the latter asked, gruffly. + +“I will dictate to you.” + +Raskolnikov fancied that the head clerk treated him more casually and +contemptuously after his speech, but strange to say he suddenly felt +completely indifferent to anyone’s opinion, and this revulsion took +place in a flash, in one instant. If he had cared to think a little, +he would have been amazed indeed that he could have talked to them like +that a minute before, forcing his feelings upon them. And where had +those feelings come from? Now if the whole room had been filled, not +with police officers, but with those nearest and dearest to him, he +would not have found one human word for them, so empty was his heart. A +gloomy sensation of agonising, everlasting solitude and remoteness, took +conscious form in his soul. It was not the meanness of his sentimental +effusions before Ilya Petrovitch, nor the meanness of the latter’s +triumph over him that had caused this sudden revulsion in his heart. +Oh, what had he to do now with his own baseness, with all these petty +vanities, officers, German women, debts, police-offices? If he had been +sentenced to be burnt at that moment, he would not have stirred, would +hardly have heard the sentence to the end. Something was happening to +him entirely new, sudden and unknown. It was not that he understood, but +he felt clearly with all the intensity of sensation that he could +never more appeal to these people in the police-office with sentimental +effusions like his recent outburst, or with anything whatever; and that +if they had been his own brothers and sisters and not police-officers, +it would have been utterly out of the question to appeal to them in any +circumstance of life. He had never experienced such a strange and awful +sensation. And what was most agonising--it was more a sensation than a +conception or idea, a direct sensation, the most agonising of all the +sensations he had known in his life. + +The head clerk began dictating to him the usual form of declaration, +that he could not pay, that he undertook to do so at a future date, that +he would not leave the town, nor sell his property, and so on. + +“But you can’t write, you can hardly hold the pen,” observed the head +clerk, looking with curiosity at Raskolnikov. “Are you ill?” + +“Yes, I am giddy. Go on!” + +“That’s all. Sign it.” + +The head clerk took the paper, and turned to attend to others. + +Raskolnikov gave back the pen; but instead of getting up and going away, +he put his elbows on the table and pressed his head in his hands. He +felt as if a nail were being driven into his skull. A strange idea +suddenly occurred to him, to get up at once, to go up to Nikodim +Fomitch, and tell him everything that had happened yesterday, and then +to go with him to his lodgings and to show him the things in the hole +in the corner. The impulse was so strong that he got up from his seat +to carry it out. “Hadn’t I better think a minute?” flashed through his +mind. “No, better cast off the burden without thinking.” But all at once +he stood still, rooted to the spot. Nikodim Fomitch was talking eagerly +with Ilya Petrovitch, and the words reached him: + +“It’s impossible, they’ll both be released. To begin with, the whole +story contradicts itself. Why should they have called the porter, if it +had been their doing? To inform against themselves? Or as a blind? No, +that would be too cunning! Besides, Pestryakov, the student, was seen at +the gate by both the porters and a woman as he went in. He was walking +with three friends, who left him only at the gate, and he asked the +porters to direct him, in the presence of the friends. Now, would he +have asked his way if he had been going with such an object? As for +Koch, he spent half an hour at the silversmith’s below, before he went +up to the old woman and he left him at exactly a quarter to eight. Now +just consider...” + +“But excuse me, how do you explain this contradiction? They state +themselves that they knocked and the door was locked; yet three minutes +later when they went up with the porter, it turned out the door was +unfastened.” + +“That’s just it; the murderer must have been there and bolted himself +in; and they’d have caught him for a certainty if Koch had not been +an ass and gone to look for the porter too. _He_ must have seized the +interval to get downstairs and slip by them somehow. Koch keeps crossing +himself and saying: ‘If I had been there, he would have jumped out and +killed me with his axe.’ He is going to have a thanksgiving service--ha, +ha!” + +“And no one saw the murderer?” + +“They might well not see him; the house is a regular Noah’s Ark,” said +the head clerk, who was listening. + +“It’s clear, quite clear,” Nikodim Fomitch repeated warmly. + +“No, it is anything but clear,” Ilya Petrovitch maintained. + +Raskolnikov picked up his hat and walked towards the door, but he did +not reach it.... + +When he recovered consciousness, he found himself sitting in a chair, +supported by someone on the right side, while someone else was standing +on the left, holding a yellowish glass filled with yellow water, and +Nikodim Fomitch standing before him, looking intently at him. He got up +from the chair. + +“What’s this? Are you ill?” Nikodim Fomitch asked, rather sharply. + +“He could hardly hold his pen when he was signing,” said the head clerk, +settling back in his place, and taking up his work again. + +“Have you been ill long?” cried Ilya Petrovitch from his place, where +he, too, was looking through papers. He had, of course, come to look at +the sick man when he fainted, but retired at once when he recovered. + +“Since yesterday,” muttered Raskolnikov in reply. + +“Did you go out yesterday?” + +“Yes.” + +“Though you were ill?” + +“Yes.” + +“At what time?” + +“About seven.” + +“And where did you go, may I ask?” + +“Along the street.” + +“Short and clear.” + +Raskolnikov, white as a handkerchief, had answered sharply, jerkily, +without dropping his black feverish eyes before Ilya Petrovitch’s stare. + +“He can scarcely stand upright. And you...” Nikodim Fomitch was +beginning. + +“No matter,” Ilya Petrovitch pronounced rather peculiarly. + +Nikodim Fomitch would have made some further protest, but glancing at +the head clerk who was looking very hard at him, he did not speak. There +was a sudden silence. It was strange. + +“Very well, then,” concluded Ilya Petrovitch, “we will not detain you.” + +Raskolnikov went out. He caught the sound of eager conversation on his +departure, and above the rest rose the questioning voice of Nikodim +Fomitch. In the street, his faintness passed off completely. + +“A search--there will be a search at once,” he repeated to himself, +hurrying home. “The brutes! they suspect.” + +His former terror mastered him completely again. + + + +CHAPTER II + +“And what if there has been a search already? What if I find them in my +room?” + +But here was his room. Nothing and no one in it. No one had peeped in. +Even Nastasya had not touched it. But heavens! how could he have left +all those things in the hole? + +He rushed to the corner, slipped his hand under the paper, pulled the +things out and lined his pockets with them. There were eight articles in +all: two little boxes with ear-rings or something of the sort, he hardly +looked to see; then four small leather cases. There was a chain, too, +merely wrapped in newspaper and something else in newspaper, that looked +like a decoration.... He put them all in the different pockets of his +overcoat, and the remaining pocket of his trousers, trying to conceal +them as much as possible. He took the purse, too. Then he went out of +his room, leaving the door open. He walked quickly and resolutely, and +though he felt shattered, he had his senses about him. He was afraid of +pursuit, he was afraid that in another half-hour, another quarter of an +hour perhaps, instructions would be issued for his pursuit, and so at +all costs, he must hide all traces before then. He must clear everything +up while he still had some strength, some reasoning power left him.... +Where was he to go? + +That had long been settled: “Fling them into the canal, and all traces +hidden in the water, the thing would be at an end.” So he had decided in +the night of his delirium when several times he had had the impulse to +get up and go away, to make haste, and get rid of it all. But to get +rid of it, turned out to be a very difficult task. He wandered along +the bank of the Ekaterininsky Canal for half an hour or more and looked +several times at the steps running down to the water, but he could not +think of carrying out his plan; either rafts stood at the steps’ edge, +and women were washing clothes on them, or boats were moored there, and +people were swarming everywhere. Moreover he could be seen and noticed +from the banks on all sides; it would look suspicious for a man to go +down on purpose, stop, and throw something into the water. And what if +the boxes were to float instead of sinking? And of course they would. +Even as it was, everyone he met seemed to stare and look round, as if +they had nothing to do but to watch him. “Why is it, or can it be my +fancy?” he thought. + +At last the thought struck him that it might be better to go to the +Neva. There were not so many people there, he would be less observed, +and it would be more convenient in every way, above all it was further +off. He wondered how he could have been wandering for a good half-hour, +worried and anxious in this dangerous past without thinking of it +before. And that half-hour he had lost over an irrational plan, simply +because he had thought of it in delirium! He had become extremely absent +and forgetful and he was aware of it. He certainly must make haste. + +He walked towards the Neva along V---- Prospect, but on the way +another idea struck him. “Why to the Neva? Would it not be better to go +somewhere far off, to the Islands again, and there hide the things +in some solitary place, in a wood or under a bush, and mark the spot +perhaps?” And though he felt incapable of clear judgment, the idea +seemed to him a sound one. But he was not destined to go there. For +coming out of V---- Prospect towards the square, he saw on the left a +passage leading between two blank walls to a courtyard. On the right +hand, the blank unwhitewashed wall of a four-storied house stretched far +into the court; on the left, a wooden hoarding ran parallel with it for +twenty paces into the court, and then turned sharply to the left. Here +was a deserted fenced-off place where rubbish of different sorts was +lying. At the end of the court, the corner of a low, smutty, stone shed, +apparently part of some workshop, peeped from behind the hoarding. It +was probably a carriage builder’s or carpenter’s shed; the whole place +from the entrance was black with coal dust. Here would be the place to +throw it, he thought. Not seeing anyone in the yard, he slipped in, and +at once saw near the gate a sink, such as is often put in yards where +there are many workmen or cab-drivers; and on the hoarding above had +been scribbled in chalk the time-honoured witticism, “Standing here +strictly forbidden.” This was all the better, for there would be nothing +suspicious about his going in. “Here I could throw it all in a heap and +get away!” + +Looking round once more, with his hand already in his pocket, he noticed +against the outer wall, between the entrance and the sink, a big unhewn +stone, weighing perhaps sixty pounds. The other side of the wall was a +street. He could hear passers-by, always numerous in that part, but he +could not be seen from the entrance, unless someone came in from the +street, which might well happen indeed, so there was need of haste. + +He bent down over the stone, seized the top of it firmly in both hands, +and using all his strength turned it over. Under the stone was a small +hollow in the ground, and he immediately emptied his pocket into it. +The purse lay at the top, and yet the hollow was not filled up. Then he +seized the stone again and with one twist turned it back, so that it was +in the same position again, though it stood a very little higher. But +he scraped the earth about it and pressed it at the edges with his foot. +Nothing could be noticed. + +Then he went out, and turned into the square. Again an intense, +almost unbearable joy overwhelmed him for an instant, as it had in +the police-office. “I have buried my tracks! And who, who can think of +looking under that stone? It has been lying there most likely ever since +the house was built, and will lie as many years more. And if it were +found, who would think of me? It is all over! No clue!” And he laughed. +Yes, he remembered that he began laughing a thin, nervous noiseless +laugh, and went on laughing all the time he was crossing the square. But +when he reached the K---- Boulevard where two days before he had come +upon that girl, his laughter suddenly ceased. Other ideas crept into his +mind. He felt all at once that it would be loathsome to pass that seat +on which after the girl was gone, he had sat and pondered, and that it +would be hateful, too, to meet that whiskered policeman to whom he had +given the twenty copecks: “Damn him!” + +He walked, looking about him angrily and distractedly. All his ideas now +seemed to be circling round some single point, and he felt that there +really was such a point, and that now, now, he was left facing that +point--and for the first time, indeed, during the last two months. + +“Damn it all!” he thought suddenly, in a fit of ungovernable fury. +“If it has begun, then it has begun. Hang the new life! Good Lord, how +stupid it is!... And what lies I told to-day! How despicably I fawned +upon that wretched Ilya Petrovitch! But that is all folly! What do I +care for them all, and my fawning upon them! It is not that at all! It +is not that at all!” + +Suddenly he stopped; a new utterly unexpected and exceedingly simple +question perplexed and bitterly confounded him. + +“If it all has really been done deliberately and not idiotically, if +I really had a certain and definite object, how is it I did not even +glance into the purse and don’t know what I had there, for which I have +undergone these agonies, and have deliberately undertaken this base, +filthy degrading business? And here I wanted at once to throw into the +water the purse together with all the things which I had not seen +either... how’s that?” + +Yes, that was so, that was all so. Yet he had known it all before, and +it was not a new question for him, even when it was decided in the night +without hesitation and consideration, as though so it must be, as though +it could not possibly be otherwise.... Yes, he had known it all, and +understood it all; it surely had all been settled even yesterday at the +moment when he was bending over the box and pulling the jewel-cases out +of it.... Yes, so it was. + +“It is because I am very ill,” he decided grimly at last, “I have been +worrying and fretting myself, and I don’t know what I am doing.... +Yesterday and the day before yesterday and all this time I have been +worrying myself.... I shall get well and I shall not worry.... But what +if I don’t get well at all? Good God, how sick I am of it all!” + +He walked on without resting. He had a terrible longing for some +distraction, but he did not know what to do, what to attempt. A new +overwhelming sensation was gaining more and more mastery over him +every moment; this was an immeasurable, almost physical, repulsion for +everything surrounding him, an obstinate, malignant feeling of hatred. +All who met him were loathsome to him--he loathed their faces, their +movements, their gestures. If anyone had addressed him, he felt that he +might have spat at him or bitten him.... + +He stopped suddenly, on coming out on the bank of the Little Neva, near +the bridge to Vassilyevsky Ostrov. “Why, he lives here, in that house,” + he thought, “why, I have not come to Razumihin of my own accord! Here +it’s the same thing over again.... Very interesting to know, though; +have I come on purpose or have I simply walked here by chance? Never +mind, I said the day before yesterday that I would go and see him the +day _after_; well, and so I will! Besides I really cannot go further +now.” + +He went up to Razumihin’s room on the fifth floor. + +The latter was at home in his garret, busily writing at the moment, and +he opened the door himself. It was four months since they had seen each +other. Razumihin was sitting in a ragged dressing-gown, with slippers on +his bare feet, unkempt, unshaven and unwashed. His face showed surprise. + +“Is it you?” he cried. He looked his comrade up and down; then after a +brief pause, he whistled. “As hard up as all that! Why, brother, you’ve +cut me out!” he added, looking at Raskolnikov’s rags. “Come sit down, +you are tired, I’ll be bound.” + +And when he had sunk down on the American leather sofa, which was +in even worse condition than his own, Razumihin saw at once that his +visitor was ill. + +“Why, you are seriously ill, do you know that?” He began feeling his +pulse. Raskolnikov pulled away his hand. + +“Never mind,” he said, “I have come for this: I have no lessons.... I +wanted,... but I don’t really want lessons....” + +“But I say! You are delirious, you know!” Razumihin observed, watching +him carefully. + +“No, I am not.” + +Raskolnikov got up from the sofa. As he had mounted the stairs to +Razumihin’s, he had not realised that he would be meeting his friend +face to face. Now, in a flash, he knew, that what he was least of all +disposed for at that moment was to be face to face with anyone in the +wide world. His spleen rose within him. He almost choked with rage at +himself as soon as he crossed Razumihin’s threshold. + +“Good-bye,” he said abruptly, and walked to the door. + +“Stop, stop! You queer fish.” + +“I don’t want to,” said the other, again pulling away his hand. + +“Then why the devil have you come? Are you mad, or what? Why, this +is... almost insulting! I won’t let you go like that.” + +“Well, then, I came to you because I know no one but you who could +help... to begin... because you are kinder than anyone--cleverer, I +mean, and can judge... and now I see that I want nothing. Do you hear? +Nothing at all... no one’s services... no one’s sympathy. I am by +myself... alone. Come, that’s enough. Leave me alone.” + +“Stay a minute, you sweep! You are a perfect madman. As you like for all +I care. I have no lessons, do you see, and I don’t care about that, but +there’s a bookseller, Heruvimov--and he takes the place of a lesson. +I would not exchange him for five lessons. He’s doing publishing of a +kind, and issuing natural science manuals and what a circulation they +have! The very titles are worth the money! You always maintained that I +was a fool, but by Jove, my boy, there are greater fools than I am! +Now he is setting up for being advanced, not that he has an inkling of +anything, but, of course, I encourage him. Here are two signatures of +the German text--in my opinion, the crudest charlatanism; it discusses +the question, ‘Is woman a human being?’ And, of course, triumphantly +proves that she is. Heruvimov is going to bring out this work as a +contribution to the woman question; I am translating it; he will expand +these two and a half signatures into six, we shall make up a gorgeous +title half a page long and bring it out at half a rouble. It will do! He +pays me six roubles the signature, it works out to about fifteen roubles +for the job, and I’ve had six already in advance. When we have finished +this, we are going to begin a translation about whales, and then some of +the dullest scandals out of the second part of _Les Confessions_ we have +marked for translation; somebody has told Heruvimov, that Rousseau was +a kind of Radishchev. You may be sure I don’t contradict him, hang him! +Well, would you like to do the second signature of ‘_Is woman a human +being?_’ If you would, take the German and pens and paper--all those +are provided, and take three roubles; for as I have had six roubles in +advance on the whole thing, three roubles come to you for your share. +And when you have finished the signature there will be another three +roubles for you. And please don’t think I am doing you a service; quite +the contrary, as soon as you came in, I saw how you could help me; to +begin with, I am weak in spelling, and secondly, I am sometimes utterly +adrift in German, so that I make it up as I go along for the most part. +The only comfort is, that it’s bound to be a change for the better. +Though who can tell, maybe it’s sometimes for the worse. Will you take +it?” + +Raskolnikov took the German sheets in silence, took the three roubles +and without a word went out. Razumihin gazed after him in astonishment. +But when Raskolnikov was in the next street, he turned back, mounted the +stairs to Razumihin’s again and laying on the table the German article +and the three roubles, went out again, still without uttering a word. + +“Are you raving, or what?” Razumihin shouted, roused to fury at last. +“What farce is this? You’ll drive me crazy too... what did you come to +see me for, damn you?” + +“I don’t want... translation,” muttered Raskolnikov from the stairs. + +“Then what the devil do you want?” shouted Razumihin from above. +Raskolnikov continued descending the staircase in silence. + +“Hey, there! Where are you living?” + +No answer. + +“Well, confound you then!” + +But Raskolnikov was already stepping into the street. On the Nikolaevsky +Bridge he was roused to full consciousness again by an unpleasant +incident. A coachman, after shouting at him two or three times, gave him +a violent lash on the back with his whip, for having almost fallen under +his horses’ hoofs. The lash so infuriated him that he dashed away to the +railing (for some unknown reason he had been walking in the very middle +of the bridge in the traffic). He angrily clenched and ground his teeth. +He heard laughter, of course. + +“Serves him right!” + +“A pickpocket I dare say.” + +“Pretending to be drunk, for sure, and getting under the wheels on +purpose; and you have to answer for him.” + +“It’s a regular profession, that’s what it is.” + +But while he stood at the railing, still looking angry and bewildered +after the retreating carriage, and rubbing his back, he suddenly felt +someone thrust money into his hand. He looked. It was an elderly woman +in a kerchief and goatskin shoes, with a girl, probably her daughter, +wearing a hat, and carrying a green parasol. + +“Take it, my good man, in Christ’s name.” + +He took it and they passed on. It was a piece of twenty copecks. From +his dress and appearance they might well have taken him for a beggar +asking alms in the streets, and the gift of the twenty copecks he +doubtless owed to the blow, which made them feel sorry for him. + +He closed his hand on the twenty copecks, walked on for ten paces, and +turned facing the Neva, looking towards the palace. The sky was without +a cloud and the water was almost bright blue, which is so rare in the +Neva. The cupola of the cathedral, which is seen at its best from the +bridge about twenty paces from the chapel, glittered in the sunlight, +and in the pure air every ornament on it could be clearly distinguished. +The pain from the lash went off, and Raskolnikov forgot about it; one +uneasy and not quite definite idea occupied him now completely. He stood +still, and gazed long and intently into the distance; this spot was +especially familiar to him. When he was attending the university, he had +hundreds of times--generally on his way home--stood still on this spot, +gazed at this truly magnificent spectacle and almost always marvelled at +a vague and mysterious emotion it roused in him. It left him strangely +cold; this gorgeous picture was for him blank and lifeless. He wondered +every time at his sombre and enigmatic impression and, mistrusting +himself, put off finding the explanation of it. He vividly recalled +those old doubts and perplexities, and it seemed to him that it was +no mere chance that he recalled them now. It struck him as strange and +grotesque, that he should have stopped at the same spot as before, +as though he actually imagined he could think the same thoughts, be +interested in the same theories and pictures that had interested him... +so short a time ago. He felt it almost amusing, and yet it wrung his +heart. Deep down, hidden far away out of sight all that seemed to him +now--all his old past, his old thoughts, his old problems and theories, +his old impressions and that picture and himself and all, all.... He +felt as though he were flying upwards, and everything were vanishing +from his sight. Making an unconscious movement with his hand, he +suddenly became aware of the piece of money in his fist. He opened his +hand, stared at the coin, and with a sweep of his arm flung it into +the water; then he turned and went home. It seemed to him, he had cut +himself off from everyone and from everything at that moment. + +Evening was coming on when he reached home, so that he must have been +walking about six hours. How and where he came back he did not remember. +Undressing, and quivering like an overdriven horse, he lay down on the +sofa, drew his greatcoat over him, and at once sank into oblivion.... + +It was dusk when he was waked up by a fearful scream. Good God, what a +scream! Such unnatural sounds, such howling, wailing, grinding, tears, +blows and curses he had never heard. + +He could never have imagined such brutality, such frenzy. In terror he +sat up in bed, almost swooning with agony. But the fighting, wailing +and cursing grew louder and louder. And then to his intense amazement +he caught the voice of his landlady. She was howling, shrieking and +wailing, rapidly, hurriedly, incoherently, so that he could not make +out what she was talking about; she was beseeching, no doubt, not to be +beaten, for she was being mercilessly beaten on the stairs. The voice of +her assailant was so horrible from spite and rage that it was almost +a croak; but he, too, was saying something, and just as quickly +and indistinctly, hurrying and spluttering. All at once Raskolnikov +trembled; he recognised the voice--it was the voice of Ilya Petrovitch. +Ilya Petrovitch here and beating the landlady! He is kicking her, +banging her head against the steps--that’s clear, that can be told +from the sounds, from the cries and the thuds. How is it, is the world +topsy-turvy? He could hear people running in crowds from all the storeys +and all the staircases; he heard voices, exclamations, knocking, doors +banging. “But why, why, and how could it be?” he repeated, thinking +seriously that he had gone mad. But no, he heard too distinctly! And +they would come to him then next, “for no doubt... it’s all about +that... about yesterday.... Good God!” He would have fastened his door +with the latch, but he could not lift his hand... besides, it would +be useless. Terror gripped his heart like ice, tortured him and numbed +him.... But at last all this uproar, after continuing about ten minutes, +began gradually to subside. The landlady was moaning and groaning; Ilya +Petrovitch was still uttering threats and curses.... But at last he, +too, seemed to be silent, and now he could not be heard. “Can he have +gone away? Good Lord!” Yes, and now the landlady is going too, still +weeping and moaning... and then her door slammed.... Now the crowd was +going from the stairs to their rooms, exclaiming, disputing, calling +to one another, raising their voices to a shout, dropping them to a +whisper. There must have been numbers of them--almost all the inmates +of the block. “But, good God, how could it be! And why, why had he come +here!” + +Raskolnikov sank worn out on the sofa, but could not close his eyes. He +lay for half an hour in such anguish, such an intolerable sensation of +infinite terror as he had never experienced before. Suddenly a bright +light flashed into his room. Nastasya came in with a candle and a plate +of soup. Looking at him carefully and ascertaining that he was not +asleep, she set the candle on the table and began to lay out what she +had brought--bread, salt, a plate, a spoon. + +“You’ve eaten nothing since yesterday, I warrant. You’ve been trudging +about all day, and you’re shaking with fever.” + +“Nastasya... what were they beating the landlady for?” + +She looked intently at him. + +“Who beat the landlady?” + +“Just now... half an hour ago, Ilya Petrovitch, the assistant +superintendent, on the stairs.... Why was he ill-treating her like that, +and... why was he here?” + +Nastasya scrutinised him, silent and frowning, and her scrutiny lasted a +long time. He felt uneasy, even frightened at her searching eyes. + +“Nastasya, why don’t you speak?” he said timidly at last in a weak +voice. + +“It’s the blood,” she answered at last softly, as though speaking to +herself. + +“Blood? What blood?” he muttered, growing white and turning towards the +wall. + +Nastasya still looked at him without speaking. + +“Nobody has been beating the landlady,” she declared at last in a firm, +resolute voice. + +He gazed at her, hardly able to breathe. + +“I heard it myself.... I was not asleep... I was sitting up,” he +said still more timidly. “I listened a long while. The assistant +superintendent came.... Everyone ran out on to the stairs from all the +flats.” + +“No one has been here. That’s the blood crying in your ears. When +there’s no outlet for it and it gets clotted, you begin fancying +things.... Will you eat something?” + +He made no answer. Nastasya still stood over him, watching him. + +“Give me something to drink... Nastasya.” + +She went downstairs and returned with a white earthenware jug of water. +He remembered only swallowing one sip of the cold water and spilling +some on his neck. Then followed forgetfulness. + + + +CHAPTER III + +He was not completely unconscious, however, all the time he was ill; he +was in a feverish state, sometimes delirious, sometimes half conscious. +He remembered a great deal afterwards. Sometimes it seemed as though +there were a number of people round him; they wanted to take him away +somewhere, there was a great deal of squabbling and discussing about +him. Then he would be alone in the room; they had all gone away afraid +of him, and only now and then opened the door a crack to look at him; +they threatened him, plotted something together, laughed, and mocked +at him. He remembered Nastasya often at his bedside; he distinguished +another person, too, whom he seemed to know very well, though he could +not remember who he was, and this fretted him, even made him cry. +Sometimes he fancied he had been lying there a month; at other times +it all seemed part of the same day. But of _that_--of _that_ he had +no recollection, and yet every minute he felt that he had forgotten +something he ought to remember. He worried and tormented himself trying +to remember, moaned, flew into a rage, or sank into awful, intolerable +terror. Then he struggled to get up, would have run away, but someone +always prevented him by force, and he sank back into impotence and +forgetfulness. At last he returned to complete consciousness. + +It happened at ten o’clock in the morning. On fine days the sun shone +into the room at that hour, throwing a streak of light on the right +wall and the corner near the door. Nastasya was standing beside him +with another person, a complete stranger, who was looking at him +very inquisitively. He was a young man with a beard, wearing a full, +short-waisted coat, and looked like a messenger. The landlady was +peeping in at the half-opened door. Raskolnikov sat up. + +“Who is this, Nastasya?” he asked, pointing to the young man. + +“I say, he’s himself again!” she said. + +“He is himself,” echoed the man. + +Concluding that he had returned to his senses, the landlady closed the +door and disappeared. She was always shy and dreaded conversations or +discussions. She was a woman of forty, not at all bad-looking, fat +and buxom, with black eyes and eyebrows, good-natured from fatness and +laziness, and absurdly bashful. + +“Who... are you?” he went on, addressing the man. But at that moment +the door was flung open, and, stooping a little, as he was so tall, +Razumihin came in. + +“What a cabin it is!” he cried. “I am always knocking my head. You call +this a lodging! So you are conscious, brother? I’ve just heard the news +from Pashenka.” + +“He has just come to,” said Nastasya. + +“Just come to,” echoed the man again, with a smile. + +“And who are you?” Razumihin asked, suddenly addressing him. “My name is +Vrazumihin, at your service; not Razumihin, as I am always called, but +Vrazumihin, a student and gentleman; and he is my friend. And who are +you?” + +“I am the messenger from our office, from the merchant Shelopaev, and +I’ve come on business.” + +“Please sit down.” Razumihin seated himself on the other side of the +table. “It’s a good thing you’ve come to, brother,” he went on to +Raskolnikov. “For the last four days you have scarcely eaten or drunk +anything. We had to give you tea in spoonfuls. I brought Zossimov to see +you twice. You remember Zossimov? He examined you carefully and said at +once it was nothing serious--something seemed to have gone to your head. +Some nervous nonsense, the result of bad feeding, he says you have not +had enough beer and radish, but it’s nothing much, it will pass and you +will be all right. Zossimov is a first-rate fellow! He is making quite a +name. Come, I won’t keep you,” he said, addressing the man again. “Will +you explain what you want? You must know, Rodya, this is the second time +they have sent from the office; but it was another man last time, and I +talked to him. Who was it came before?” + +“That was the day before yesterday, I venture to say, if you please, +sir. That was Alexey Semyonovitch; he is in our office, too.” + +“He was more intelligent than you, don’t you think so?” + +“Yes, indeed, sir, he is of more weight than I am.” + +“Quite so; go on.” + +“At your mamma’s request, through Afanasy Ivanovitch Vahrushin, of whom +I presume you have heard more than once, a remittance is sent to you +from our office,” the man began, addressing Raskolnikov. “If you are in +an intelligible condition, I’ve thirty-five roubles to remit to you, as +Semyon Semyonovitch has received from Afanasy Ivanovitch at your mamma’s +request instructions to that effect, as on previous occasions. Do you +know him, sir?” + +“Yes, I remember... Vahrushin,” Raskolnikov said dreamily. + +“You hear, he knows Vahrushin,” cried Razumihin. “He is in ‘an +intelligible condition’! And I see you are an intelligent man too. Well, +it’s always pleasant to hear words of wisdom.” + +“That’s the gentleman, Vahrushin, Afanasy Ivanovitch. And at the request +of your mamma, who has sent you a remittance once before in the +same manner through him, he did not refuse this time also, and sent +instructions to Semyon Semyonovitch some days since to hand you +thirty-five roubles in the hope of better to come.” + +“That ‘hoping for better to come’ is the best thing you’ve said, though +‘your mamma’ is not bad either. Come then, what do you say? Is he fully +conscious, eh?” + +“That’s all right. If only he can sign this little paper.” + +“He can scrawl his name. Have you got the book?” + +“Yes, here’s the book.” + +“Give it to me. Here, Rodya, sit up. I’ll hold you. Take the pen and +scribble ‘Raskolnikov’ for him. For just now, brother, money is sweeter +to us than treacle.” + +“I don’t want it,” said Raskolnikov, pushing away the pen. + +“Not want it?” + +“I won’t sign it.” + +“How the devil can you do without signing it?” + +“I don’t want... the money.” + +“Don’t want the money! Come, brother, that’s nonsense, I bear witness. +Don’t trouble, please, it’s only that he is on his travels again. But +that’s pretty common with him at all times though.... You are a man of +judgment and we will take him in hand, that is, more simply, take his +hand and he will sign it. Here.” + +“But I can come another time.” + +“No, no. Why should we trouble you? You are a man of judgment.... Now, +Rodya, don’t keep your visitor, you see he is waiting,” and he made +ready to hold Raskolnikov’s hand in earnest. + +“Stop, I’ll do it alone,” said the latter, taking the pen and signing +his name. + +The messenger took out the money and went away. + +“Bravo! And now, brother, are you hungry?” + +“Yes,” answered Raskolnikov. + +“Is there any soup?” + +“Some of yesterday’s,” answered Nastasya, who was still standing there. + +“With potatoes and rice in it?” + +“Yes.” + +“I know it by heart. Bring soup and give us some tea.” + +“Very well.” + +Raskolnikov looked at all this with profound astonishment and a dull, +unreasoning terror. He made up his mind to keep quiet and see what +would happen. “I believe I am not wandering. I believe it’s reality,” he +thought. + +In a couple of minutes Nastasya returned with the soup, and announced +that the tea would be ready directly. With the soup she brought two +spoons, two plates, salt, pepper, mustard for the beef, and so on. The +table was set as it had not been for a long time. The cloth was clean. + +“It would not be amiss, Nastasya, if Praskovya Pavlovna were to send us +up a couple of bottles of beer. We could empty them.” + +“Well, you are a cool hand,” muttered Nastasya, and she departed to +carry out his orders. + +Raskolnikov still gazed wildly with strained attention. Meanwhile +Razumihin sat down on the sofa beside him, as clumsily as a bear put his +left arm round Raskolnikov’s head, although he was able to sit up, and +with his right hand gave him a spoonful of soup, blowing on it that +it might not burn him. But the soup was only just warm. Raskolnikov +swallowed one spoonful greedily, then a second, then a third. But after +giving him a few more spoonfuls of soup, Razumihin suddenly stopped, and +said that he must ask Zossimov whether he ought to have more. + +Nastasya came in with two bottles of beer. + +“And will you have tea?” + +“Yes.” + +“Cut along, Nastasya, and bring some tea, for tea we may venture on +without the faculty. But here is the beer!” He moved back to his chair, +pulled the soup and meat in front of him, and began eating as though he +had not touched food for three days. + +“I must tell you, Rodya, I dine like this here every day now,” he +mumbled with his mouth full of beef, “and it’s all Pashenka, your dear +little landlady, who sees to that; she loves to do anything for me. I +don’t ask for it, but, of course, I don’t object. And here’s Nastasya +with the tea. She is a quick girl. Nastasya, my dear, won’t you have +some beer?” + +“Get along with your nonsense!” + +“A cup of tea, then?” + +“A cup of tea, maybe.” + +“Pour it out. Stay, I’ll pour it out myself. Sit down.” + +He poured out two cups, left his dinner, and sat on the sofa again. As +before, he put his left arm round the sick man’s head, raised him up +and gave him tea in spoonfuls, again blowing each spoonful steadily and +earnestly, as though this process was the principal and most effective +means towards his friend’s recovery. Raskolnikov said nothing and made +no resistance, though he felt quite strong enough to sit up on the sofa +without support and could not merely have held a cup or a spoon, but +even perhaps could have walked about. But from some queer, almost +animal, cunning he conceived the idea of hiding his strength and lying +low for a time, pretending if necessary not to be yet in full possession +of his faculties, and meanwhile listening to find out what was going on. +Yet he could not overcome his sense of repugnance. After sipping a dozen +spoonfuls of tea, he suddenly released his head, pushed the spoon away +capriciously, and sank back on the pillow. There were actually real +pillows under his head now, down pillows in clean cases, he observed +that, too, and took note of it. + +“Pashenka must give us some raspberry jam to-day to make him some +raspberry tea,” said Razumihin, going back to his chair and attacking +his soup and beer again. + +“And where is she to get raspberries for you?” asked Nastasya, balancing +a saucer on her five outspread fingers and sipping tea through a lump of +sugar. + +“She’ll get it at the shop, my dear. You see, Rodya, all sorts of things +have been happening while you have been laid up. When you decamped in +that rascally way without leaving your address, I felt so angry that I +resolved to find you out and punish you. I set to work that very day. +How I ran about making inquiries for you! This lodging of yours I had +forgotten, though I never remembered it, indeed, because I did not know +it; and as for your old lodgings, I could only remember it was at the +Five Corners, Harlamov’s house. I kept trying to find that Harlamov’s +house, and afterwards it turned out that it was not Harlamov’s, but +Buch’s. How one muddles up sound sometimes! So I lost my temper, and I +went on the chance to the address bureau next day, and only fancy, in +two minutes they looked you up! Your name is down there.” + +“My name!” + +“I should think so; and yet a General Kobelev they could not find while +I was there. Well, it’s a long story. But as soon as I did land on this +place, I soon got to know all your affairs--all, all, brother, I know +everything; Nastasya here will tell you. I made the acquaintance of +Nikodim Fomitch and Ilya Petrovitch, and the house-porter and Mr. +Zametov, Alexandr Grigorievitch, the head clerk in the police office, +and, last, but not least, of Pashenka; Nastasya here knows....” + +“He’s got round her,” Nastasya murmured, smiling slyly. + +“Why don’t you put the sugar in your tea, Nastasya Nikiforovna?” + +“You are a one!” Nastasya cried suddenly, going off into a giggle. “I am +not Nikiforovna, but Petrovna,” she added suddenly, recovering from her +mirth. + +“I’ll make a note of it. Well, brother, to make a long story short, +I was going in for a regular explosion here to uproot all malignant +influences in the locality, but Pashenka won the day. I had not +expected, brother, to find her so... prepossessing. Eh, what do you +think?” + +Raskolnikov did not speak, but he still kept his eyes fixed upon him, +full of alarm. + +“And all that could be wished, indeed, in every respect,” Razumihin went +on, not at all embarrassed by his silence. + +“Ah, the sly dog!” Nastasya shrieked again. This conversation afforded +her unspeakable delight. + +“It’s a pity, brother, that you did not set to work in the right way +at first. You ought to have approached her differently. She is, so +to speak, a most unaccountable character. But we will talk about her +character later.... How could you let things come to such a pass that +she gave up sending you your dinner? And that I O U? You must have been +mad to sign an I O U. And that promise of marriage when her daughter, +Natalya Yegorovna, was alive?... I know all about it! But I see that’s +a delicate matter and I am an ass; forgive me. But, talking of +foolishness, do you know Praskovya Pavlovna is not nearly so foolish as +you would think at first sight?” + +“No,” mumbled Raskolnikov, looking away, but feeling that it was better +to keep up the conversation. + +“She isn’t, is she?” cried Razumihin, delighted to get an answer out +of him. “But she is not very clever either, eh? She is essentially, +essentially an unaccountable character! I am sometimes quite at a loss, +I assure you.... She must be forty; she says she is thirty-six, and +of course she has every right to say so. But I swear I judge her +intellectually, simply from the metaphysical point of view; there is a +sort of symbolism sprung up between us, a sort of algebra or what not! +I don’t understand it! Well, that’s all nonsense. Only, seeing that you +are not a student now and have lost your lessons and your clothes, and +that through the young lady’s death she has no need to treat you as +a relation, she suddenly took fright; and as you hid in your den and +dropped all your old relations with her, she planned to get rid of you. +And she’s been cherishing that design a long time, but was sorry to lose +the I O U, for you assured her yourself that your mother would pay.” + +“It was base of me to say that.... My mother herself is almost +a beggar... and I told a lie to keep my lodging... and be fed,” + Raskolnikov said loudly and distinctly. + +“Yes, you did very sensibly. But the worst of it is that at that point +Mr. Tchebarov turns up, a business man. Pashenka would never have +thought of doing anything on her own account, she is too retiring; but +the business man is by no means retiring, and first thing he puts the +question, ‘Is there any hope of realising the I O U?’ Answer: there is, +because he has a mother who would save her Rodya with her hundred and +twenty-five roubles pension, if she has to starve herself; and a sister, +too, who would go into bondage for his sake. That’s what he was building +upon.... Why do you start? I know all the ins and outs of your affairs +now, my dear boy--it’s not for nothing that you were so open with +Pashenka when you were her prospective son-in-law, and I say all this as +a friend.... But I tell you what it is; an honest and sensitive man is +open; and a business man ‘listens and goes on eating’ you up. Well, +then she gave the I O U by way of payment to this Tchebarov, and without +hesitation he made a formal demand for payment. When I heard of all this +I wanted to blow him up, too, to clear my conscience, but by that time +harmony reigned between me and Pashenka, and I insisted on stopping +the whole affair, engaging that you would pay. I went security for you, +brother. Do you understand? We called Tchebarov, flung him ten +roubles and got the I O U back from him, and here I have the honour of +presenting it to you. She trusts your word now. Here, take it, you see I +have torn it.” + +Razumihin put the note on the table. Raskolnikov looked at him and +turned to the wall without uttering a word. Even Razumihin felt a +twinge. + +“I see, brother,” he said a moment later, “that I have been playing the +fool again. I thought I should amuse you with my chatter, and I believe +I have only made you cross.” + +“Was it you I did not recognise when I was delirious?” Raskolnikov +asked, after a moment’s pause without turning his head. + +“Yes, and you flew into a rage about it, especially when I brought +Zametov one day.” + +“Zametov? The head clerk? What for?” Raskolnikov turned round quickly +and fixed his eyes on Razumihin. + +“What’s the matter with you?... What are you upset about? He wanted to +make your acquaintance because I talked to him a lot about you.... How +could I have found out so much except from him? He is a capital +fellow, brother, first-rate... in his own way, of course. Now we are +friends--see each other almost every day. I have moved into this part, +you know. I have only just moved. I’ve been with him to Luise Ivanovna +once or twice.... Do you remember Luise, Luise Ivanovna? + +“Did I say anything in delirium?” + +“I should think so! You were beside yourself.” + +“What did I rave about?” + +“What next? What did you rave about? What people do rave about.... Well, +brother, now I must not lose time. To work.” He got up from the table +and took up his cap. + +“What did I rave about?” + +“How he keeps on! Are you afraid of having let out some secret? Don’t +worry yourself; you said nothing about a countess. But you said a lot +about a bulldog, and about ear-rings and chains, and about Krestovsky +Island, and some porter, and Nikodim Fomitch and Ilya Petrovitch, the +assistant superintendent. And another thing that was of special interest +to you was your own sock. You whined, ‘Give me my sock.’ Zametov +hunted all about your room for your socks, and with his own scented, +ring-bedecked fingers he gave you the rag. And only then were you +comforted, and for the next twenty-four hours you held the wretched +thing in your hand; we could not get it from you. It is most likely +somewhere under your quilt at this moment. And then you asked so +piteously for fringe for your trousers. We tried to find out what sort +of fringe, but we could not make it out. Now to business! Here are +thirty-five roubles; I take ten of them, and shall give you an account +of them in an hour or two. I will let Zossimov know at the same time, +though he ought to have been here long ago, for it is nearly twelve. And +you, Nastasya, look in pretty often while I am away, to see whether he +wants a drink or anything else. And I will tell Pashenka what is wanted +myself. Good-bye!” + +“He calls her Pashenka! Ah, he’s a deep one!” said Nastasya as he went +out; then she opened the door and stood listening, but could not resist +running downstairs after him. She was very eager to hear what he would +say to the landlady. She was evidently quite fascinated by Razumihin. + +No sooner had she left the room than the sick man flung off the +bedclothes and leapt out of bed like a madman. With burning, twitching +impatience he had waited for them to be gone so that he might set to +work. But to what work? Now, as though to spite him, it eluded him. + +“Good God, only tell me one thing: do they know of it yet or not? What +if they know it and are only pretending, mocking me while I am laid up, +and then they will come in and tell me that it’s been discovered long +ago and that they have only... What am I to do now? That’s what I’ve +forgotten, as though on purpose; forgotten it all at once, I remembered +a minute ago.” + +He stood in the middle of the room and gazed in miserable bewilderment +about him; he walked to the door, opened it, listened; but that was not +what he wanted. Suddenly, as though recalling something, he rushed to +the corner where there was a hole under the paper, began examining it, +put his hand into the hole, fumbled--but that was not it. He went to the +stove, opened it and began rummaging in the ashes; the frayed edges of +his trousers and the rags cut off his pocket were lying there just as +he had thrown them. No one had looked, then! Then he remembered the sock +about which Razumihin had just been telling him. Yes, there it lay on +the sofa under the quilt, but it was so covered with dust and grime that +Zametov could not have seen anything on it. + +“Bah, Zametov! The police office! And why am I sent for to the police +office? Where’s the notice? Bah! I am mixing it up; that was then. I +looked at my sock then, too, but now... now I have been ill. But +what did Zametov come for? Why did Razumihin bring him?” he muttered, +helplessly sitting on the sofa again. “What does it mean? Am I still in +delirium, or is it real? I believe it is real.... Ah, I remember; I must +escape! Make haste to escape. Yes, I must, I must escape! Yes... but +where? And where are my clothes? I’ve no boots. They’ve taken them away! +They’ve hidden them! I understand! Ah, here is my coat--they passed that +over! And here is money on the table, thank God! And here’s the I O U... +I’ll take the money and go and take another lodging. They won’t find +me!... Yes, but the address bureau? They’ll find me, Razumihin will find +me. Better escape altogether... far away... to America, and let them +do their worst! And take the I O U... it would be of use there.... What +else shall I take? They think I am ill! They don’t know that I can walk, +ha-ha-ha! I could see by their eyes that they know all about it! If +only I could get downstairs! And what if they have set a watch +there--policemen! What’s this tea? Ah, and here is beer left, half a +bottle, cold!” + +He snatched up the bottle, which still contained a glassful of beer, and +gulped it down with relish, as though quenching a flame in his breast. +But in another minute the beer had gone to his head, and a faint and +even pleasant shiver ran down his spine. He lay down and pulled the +quilt over him. His sick and incoherent thoughts grew more and more +disconnected, and soon a light, pleasant drowsiness came upon him. With +a sense of comfort he nestled his head into the pillow, wrapped more +closely about him the soft, wadded quilt which had replaced the old, +ragged greatcoat, sighed softly and sank into a deep, sound, refreshing +sleep. + +He woke up, hearing someone come in. He opened his eyes and saw +Razumihin standing in the doorway, uncertain whether to come in or +not. Raskolnikov sat up quickly on the sofa and gazed at him, as though +trying to recall something. + +“Ah, you are not asleep! Here I am! Nastasya, bring in the parcel!” + Razumihin shouted down the stairs. “You shall have the account +directly.” + +“What time is it?” asked Raskolnikov, looking round uneasily. + +“Yes, you had a fine sleep, brother, it’s almost evening, it will be six +o’clock directly. You have slept more than six hours.” + +“Good heavens! Have I?” + +“And why not? It will do you good. What’s the hurry? A tryst, is it? +We’ve all time before us. I’ve been waiting for the last three hours for +you; I’ve been up twice and found you asleep. I’ve called on Zossimov +twice; not at home, only fancy! But no matter, he will turn up. And +I’ve been out on my own business, too. You know I’ve been moving to-day, +moving with my uncle. I have an uncle living with me now. But that’s +no matter, to business. Give me the parcel, Nastasya. We will open it +directly. And how do you feel now, brother?” + +“I am quite well, I am not ill. Razumihin, have you been here long?” + +“I tell you I’ve been waiting for the last three hours.” + +“No, before.” + +“How do you mean?” + +“How long have you been coming here?” + +“Why I told you all about it this morning. Don’t you remember?” + +Raskolnikov pondered. The morning seemed like a dream to him. He could +not remember alone, and looked inquiringly at Razumihin. + +“Hm!” said the latter, “he has forgotten. I fancied then that you were +not quite yourself. Now you are better for your sleep.... You really +look much better. First-rate! Well, to business. Look here, my dear +boy.” + +He began untying the bundle, which evidently interested him. + +“Believe me, brother, this is something specially near my heart. For we +must make a man of you. Let’s begin from the top. Do you see this +cap?” he said, taking out of the bundle a fairly good though cheap and +ordinary cap. “Let me try it on.” + +“Presently, afterwards,” said Raskolnikov, waving it off pettishly. + +“Come, Rodya, my boy, don’t oppose it, afterwards will be too late; and +I shan’t sleep all night, for I bought it by guess, without measure. +Just right!” he cried triumphantly, fitting it on, “just your size! A +proper head-covering is the first thing in dress and a recommendation in +its own way. Tolstyakov, a friend of mine, is always obliged to take off +his pudding basin when he goes into any public place where other +people wear their hats or caps. People think he does it from slavish +politeness, but it’s simply because he is ashamed of his bird’s nest; +he is such a boastful fellow! Look, Nastasya, here are two specimens of +headgear: this Palmerston”--he took from the corner Raskolnikov’s old, +battered hat, which for some unknown reason, he called a Palmerston--“or +this jewel! Guess the price, Rodya, what do you suppose I paid for it, +Nastasya!” he said, turning to her, seeing that Raskolnikov did not +speak. + +“Twenty copecks, no more, I dare say,” answered Nastasya. + +“Twenty copecks, silly!” he cried, offended. “Why, nowadays you would +cost more than that--eighty copecks! And that only because it has been +worn. And it’s bought on condition that when’s it’s worn out, they will +give you another next year. Yes, on my word! Well, now let us pass to +the United States of America, as they called them at school. I assure +you I am proud of these breeches,” and he exhibited to Raskolnikov a +pair of light, summer trousers of grey woollen material. “No holes, no +spots, and quite respectable, although a little worn; and a waistcoat +to match, quite in the fashion. And its being worn really is an +improvement, it’s softer, smoother.... You see, Rodya, to my thinking, +the great thing for getting on in the world is always to keep to the +seasons; if you don’t insist on having asparagus in January, you keep +your money in your purse; and it’s the same with this purchase. It’s +summer now, so I’ve been buying summer things--warmer materials will be +wanted for autumn, so you will have to throw these away in any case... +especially as they will be done for by then from their own lack of +coherence if not your higher standard of luxury. Come, price them! What +do you say? Two roubles twenty-five copecks! And remember the condition: +if you wear these out, you will have another suit for nothing! They only +do business on that system at Fedyaev’s; if you’ve bought a thing once, +you are satisfied for life, for you will never go there again of your +own free will. Now for the boots. What do you say? You see that they are +a bit worn, but they’ll last a couple of months, for it’s foreign work +and foreign leather; the secretary of the English Embassy sold them last +week--he had only worn them six days, but he was very short of cash. +Price--a rouble and a half. A bargain?” + +“But perhaps they won’t fit,” observed Nastasya. + +“Not fit? Just look!” and he pulled out of his pocket Raskolnikov’s +old, broken boot, stiffly coated with dry mud. “I did not go +empty-handed--they took the size from this monster. We all did our best. +And as to your linen, your landlady has seen to that. Here, to begin +with are three shirts, hempen but with a fashionable front.... Well +now then, eighty copecks the cap, two roubles twenty-five copecks the +suit--together three roubles five copecks--a rouble and a half for the +boots--for, you see, they are very good--and that makes four roubles +fifty-five copecks; five roubles for the underclothes--they were +bought in the lot--which makes exactly nine roubles fifty-five copecks. +Forty-five copecks change in coppers. Will you take it? And so, Rodya, +you are set up with a complete new rig-out, for your overcoat will +serve, and even has a style of its own. That comes from getting one’s +clothes from Sharmer’s! As for your socks and other things, I leave them +to you; we’ve twenty-five roubles left. And as for Pashenka and paying +for your lodging, don’t you worry. I tell you she’ll trust you for +anything. And now, brother, let me change your linen, for I daresay you +will throw off your illness with your shirt.” + +“Let me be! I don’t want to!” Raskolnikov waved him off. He had listened +with disgust to Razumihin’s efforts to be playful about his purchases. + +“Come, brother, don’t tell me I’ve been trudging around for nothing,” + Razumihin insisted. “Nastasya, don’t be bashful, but help me--that’s +it,” and in spite of Raskolnikov’s resistance he changed his linen. The +latter sank back on the pillows and for a minute or two said nothing. + +“It will be long before I get rid of them,” he thought. “What money was +all that bought with?” he asked at last, gazing at the wall. + +“Money? Why, your own, what the messenger brought from Vahrushin, your +mother sent it. Have you forgotten that, too?” + +“I remember now,” said Raskolnikov after a long, sullen silence. +Razumihin looked at him, frowning and uneasy. + +The door opened and a tall, stout man whose appearance seemed familiar +to Raskolnikov came in. + + + +CHAPTER IV + +Zossimov was a tall, fat man with a puffy, colourless, clean-shaven face +and straight flaxen hair. He wore spectacles, and a big gold ring on +his fat finger. He was twenty-seven. He had on a light grey fashionable +loose coat, light summer trousers, and everything about him loose, +fashionable and spick and span; his linen was irreproachable, his +watch-chain was massive. In manner he was slow and, as it were, +nonchalant, and at the same time studiously free and easy; he made +efforts to conceal his self-importance, but it was apparent at every +instant. All his acquaintances found him tedious, but said he was clever +at his work. + +“I’ve been to you twice to-day, brother. You see, he’s come to himself,” + cried Razumihin. + +“I see, I see; and how do we feel now, eh?” said Zossimov to +Raskolnikov, watching him carefully and, sitting down at the foot of the +sofa, he settled himself as comfortably as he could. + +“He is still depressed,” Razumihin went on. “We’ve just changed his +linen and he almost cried.” + +“That’s very natural; you might have put it off if he did not wish +it.... His pulse is first-rate. Is your head still aching, eh?” + +“I am well, I am perfectly well!” Raskolnikov declared positively +and irritably. He raised himself on the sofa and looked at them with +glittering eyes, but sank back on to the pillow at once and turned to +the wall. Zossimov watched him intently. + +“Very good.... Going on all right,” he said lazily. “Has he eaten +anything?” + +They told him, and asked what he might have. + +“He may have anything... soup, tea... mushrooms and cucumbers, of +course, you must not give him; he’d better not have meat either, and... +but no need to tell you that!” Razumihin and he looked at each +other. “No more medicine or anything. I’ll look at him again to-morrow. +Perhaps, to-day even... but never mind...” + +“To-morrow evening I shall take him for a walk,” said Razumihin. “We are +going to the Yusupov garden and then to the Palais de Cristal.” + +“I would not disturb him to-morrow at all, but I don’t know... a little, +maybe... but we’ll see.” + +“Ach, what a nuisance! I’ve got a house-warming party to-night; it’s +only a step from here. Couldn’t he come? He could lie on the sofa. You +are coming?” Razumihin said to Zossimov. “Don’t forget, you promised.” + +“All right, only rather later. What are you going to do?” + +“Oh, nothing--tea, vodka, herrings. There will be a pie... just our +friends.” + +“And who?” + +“All neighbours here, almost all new friends, except my old uncle, and +he is new too--he only arrived in Petersburg yesterday to see to some +business of his. We meet once in five years.” + +“What is he?” + +“He’s been stagnating all his life as a district postmaster; gets a +little pension. He is sixty-five--not worth talking about.... But I +am fond of him. Porfiry Petrovitch, the head of the Investigation +Department here... But you know him.” + +“Is he a relation of yours, too?” + +“A very distant one. But why are you scowling? Because you quarrelled +once, won’t you come then?” + +“I don’t care a damn for him.” + +“So much the better. Well, there will be some students, a teacher, a +government clerk, a musician, an officer and Zametov.” + +“Do tell me, please, what you or he”--Zossimov nodded at +Raskolnikov--“can have in common with this Zametov?” + +“Oh, you particular gentleman! Principles! You are worked by principles, +as it were by springs; you won’t venture to turn round on your own +account. If a man is a nice fellow, that’s the only principle I go upon. +Zametov is a delightful person.” + +“Though he does take bribes.” + +“Well, he does! and what of it? I don’t care if he does take bribes,” + Razumihin cried with unnatural irritability. “I don’t praise him for +taking bribes. I only say he is a nice man in his own way! But if one +looks at men in all ways--are there many good ones left? Why, I am sure +I shouldn’t be worth a baked onion myself... perhaps with you thrown +in.” + +“That’s too little; I’d give two for you.” + +“And I wouldn’t give more than one for you. No more of your jokes! +Zametov is no more than a boy. I can pull his hair and one must draw him +not repel him. You’ll never improve a man by repelling him, especially +a boy. One has to be twice as careful with a boy. Oh, you progressive +dullards! You don’t understand. You harm yourselves running another man +down.... But if you want to know, we really have something in common.” + +“I should like to know what.” + +“Why, it’s all about a house-painter.... We are getting him out of +a mess! Though indeed there’s nothing to fear now. The matter is +absolutely self-evident. We only put on steam.” + +“A painter?” + +“Why, haven’t I told you about it? I only told you the beginning then +about the murder of the old pawnbroker-woman. Well, the painter is mixed +up in it...” + +“Oh, I heard about that murder before and was rather interested in it... +partly... for one reason.... I read about it in the papers, too....” + +“Lizaveta was murdered, too,” Nastasya blurted out, suddenly addressing +Raskolnikov. She remained in the room all the time, standing by the door +listening. + +“Lizaveta,” murmured Raskolnikov hardly audibly. + +“Lizaveta, who sold old clothes. Didn’t you know her? She used to come +here. She mended a shirt for you, too.” + +Raskolnikov turned to the wall where in the dirty, yellow paper he +picked out one clumsy, white flower with brown lines on it and began +examining how many petals there were in it, how many scallops in the +petals and how many lines on them. He felt his arms and legs as lifeless +as though they had been cut off. He did not attempt to move, but stared +obstinately at the flower. + +“But what about the painter?” Zossimov interrupted Nastasya’s chatter +with marked displeasure. She sighed and was silent. + +“Why, he was accused of the murder,” Razumihin went on hotly. + +“Was there evidence against him then?” + +“Evidence, indeed! Evidence that was no evidence, and that’s what we +have to prove. It was just as they pitched on those fellows, Koch and +Pestryakov, at first. Foo! how stupidly it’s all done, it makes one +sick, though it’s not one’s business! Pestryakov may be coming +to-night.... By the way, Rodya, you’ve heard about the business already; +it happened before you were ill, the day before you fainted at the +police office while they were talking about it.” + +Zossimov looked curiously at Raskolnikov. He did not stir. + +“But I say, Razumihin, I wonder at you. What a busybody you are!” + Zossimov observed. + +“Maybe I am, but we will get him off anyway,” shouted Razumihin, +bringing his fist down on the table. “What’s the most offensive is not +their lying--one can always forgive lying--lying is a delightful thing, +for it leads to truth--what is offensive is that they lie and worship +their own lying.... I respect Porfiry, but... What threw them out at +first? The door was locked, and when they came back with the porter +it was open. So it followed that Koch and Pestryakov were the +murderers--that was their logic!” + +“But don’t excite yourself; they simply detained them, they could not +help that.... And, by the way, I’ve met that man Koch. He used to buy +unredeemed pledges from the old woman? Eh?” + +“Yes, he is a swindler. He buys up bad debts, too. He makes a profession +of it. But enough of him! Do you know what makes me angry? It’s their +sickening rotten, petrified routine.... And this case might be the means +of introducing a new method. One can show from the psychological data +alone how to get on the track of the real man. ‘We have facts,’ they +say. But facts are not everything--at least half the business lies in +how you interpret them!” + +“Can you interpret them, then?” + +“Anyway, one can’t hold one’s tongue when one has a feeling, a tangible +feeling, that one might be a help if only.... Eh! Do you know the +details of the case?” + +“I am waiting to hear about the painter.” + +“Oh, yes! Well, here’s the story. Early on the third day after the +murder, when they were still dandling Koch and Pestryakov--though they +accounted for every step they took and it was as plain as a pikestaff--an +unexpected fact turned up. A peasant called Dushkin, who keeps a +dram-shop facing the house, brought to the police office a jeweller’s +case containing some gold ear-rings, and told a long rigamarole. ‘The +day before yesterday, just after eight o’clock’--mark the day and the +hour!--‘a journeyman house-painter, Nikolay, who had been in to see me +already that day, brought me this box of gold ear-rings and stones, and +asked me to give him two roubles for them. When I asked him where he got +them, he said that he picked them up in the street. I did not ask him +anything more.’ I am telling you Dushkin’s story. ‘I gave him a note’--a +rouble that is--‘for I thought if he did not pawn it with me he would +with another. It would all come to the same thing--he’d spend it on +drink, so the thing had better be with me. The further you hide it +the quicker you will find it, and if anything turns up, if I hear any +rumours, I’ll take it to the police.’ Of course, that’s all taradiddle; +he lies like a horse, for I know this Dushkin, he is a pawnbroker and +a receiver of stolen goods, and he did not cheat Nikolay out of a +thirty-rouble trinket in order to give it to the police. He was simply +afraid. But no matter, to return to Dushkin’s story. ‘I’ve known +this peasant, Nikolay Dementyev, from a child; he comes from the same +province and district of Zaraïsk, we are both Ryazan men. And though +Nikolay is not a drunkard, he drinks, and I knew he had a job in that +house, painting work with Dmitri, who comes from the same village, too. +As soon as he got the rouble he changed it, had a couple of glasses, +took his change and went out. But I did not see Dmitri with him then. +And the next day I heard that someone had murdered Alyona Ivanovna and +her sister, Lizaveta Ivanovna, with an axe. I knew them, and I felt +suspicious about the ear-rings at once, for I knew the murdered woman +lent money on pledges. I went to the house, and began to make careful +inquiries without saying a word to anyone. First of all I asked, “Is +Nikolay here?” Dmitri told me that Nikolay had gone off on the spree; he +had come home at daybreak drunk, stayed in the house about ten minutes, +and went out again. Dmitri didn’t see him again and is finishing the +job alone. And their job is on the same staircase as the murder, on +the second floor. When I heard all that I did not say a word to +anyone’--that’s Dushkin’s tale--‘but I found out what I could about +the murder, and went home feeling as suspicious as ever. And at eight +o’clock this morning’--that was the third day, you understand--‘I saw +Nikolay coming in, not sober, though not to say very drunk--he could +understand what was said to him. He sat down on the bench and did not +speak. There was only one stranger in the bar and a man I knew asleep +on a bench and our two boys. “Have you seen Dmitri?” said I. “No, I +haven’t,” said he. “And you’ve not been here either?” “Not since the day +before yesterday,” said he. “And where did you sleep last night?” + “In Peski, with the Kolomensky men.” “And where did you get those +ear-rings?” I asked. “I found them in the street,” and the way he said +it was a bit queer; he did not look at me. “Did you hear what happened +that very evening, at that very hour, on that same staircase?” said I. +“No,” said he, “I had not heard,” and all the while he was listening, +his eyes were staring out of his head and he turned as white as chalk. I +told him all about it and he took his hat and began getting up. I wanted +to keep him. “Wait a bit, Nikolay,” said I, “won’t you have a drink?” + And I signed to the boy to hold the door, and I came out from behind the +bar; but he darted out and down the street to the turning at a run. +I have not seen him since. Then my doubts were at an end--it was his +doing, as clear as could be....’” + +“I should think so,” said Zossimov. + +“Wait! Hear the end. Of course they sought high and low for Nikolay; +they detained Dushkin and searched his house; Dmitri, too, was arrested; +the Kolomensky men also were turned inside out. And the day before +yesterday they arrested Nikolay in a tavern at the end of the town. He +had gone there, taken the silver cross off his neck and asked for a dram +for it. They gave it to him. A few minutes afterwards the woman went +to the cowshed, and through a crack in the wall she saw in the stable +adjoining he had made a noose of his sash from the beam, stood on a +block of wood, and was trying to put his neck in the noose. The woman +screeched her hardest; people ran in. ‘So that’s what you are up to!’ +‘Take me,’ he says, ‘to such-and-such a police officer; I’ll confess +everything.’ Well, they took him to that police station--that is +here--with a suitable escort. So they asked him this and that, how old +he is, ‘twenty-two,’ and so on. At the question, ‘When you were working +with Dmitri, didn’t you see anyone on the staircase at such-and-such a +time?’--answer: ‘To be sure folks may have gone up and down, but I did +not notice them.’ ‘And didn’t you hear anything, any noise, and so on?’ +‘We heard nothing special.’ ‘And did you hear, Nikolay, that on the same +day Widow So-and-so and her sister were murdered and robbed?’ ‘I +never knew a thing about it. The first I heard of it was from Afanasy +Pavlovitch the day before yesterday.’ ‘And where did you find the +ear-rings?’ ‘I found them on the pavement.’ ‘Why didn’t you go to work +with Dmitri the other day?’ ‘Because I was drinking.’ ‘And where were +you drinking?’ ‘Oh, in such-and-such a place.’ ‘Why did you run away +from Dushkin’s?’ ‘Because I was awfully frightened.’ ‘What were +you frightened of?’ ‘That I should be accused.’ ‘How could you be +frightened, if you felt free from guilt?’ Now, Zossimov, you may not +believe me, that question was put literally in those words. I know it +for a fact, it was repeated to me exactly! What do you say to that?” + +“Well, anyway, there’s the evidence.” + +“I am not talking of the evidence now, I am talking about that question, +of their own idea of themselves. Well, so they squeezed and squeezed +him and he confessed: ‘I did not find it in the street, but in the flat +where I was painting with Dmitri.’ ‘And how was that?’ ‘Why, Dmitri and +I were painting there all day, and we were just getting ready to go, and +Dmitri took a brush and painted my face, and he ran off and I after him. +I ran after him, shouting my hardest, and at the bottom of the stairs I +ran right against the porter and some gentlemen--and how many gentlemen +were there I don’t remember. And the porter swore at me, and the other +porter swore, too, and the porter’s wife came out, and swore at us, too; +and a gentleman came into the entry with a lady, and he swore at us, +too, for Dmitri and I lay right across the way. I got hold of Dmitri’s +hair and knocked him down and began beating him. And Dmitri, too, caught +me by the hair and began beating me. But we did it all not for temper +but in a friendly way, for sport. And then Dmitri escaped and ran into +the street, and I ran after him; but I did not catch him, and went back +to the flat alone; I had to clear up my things. I began putting them +together, expecting Dmitri to come, and there in the passage, in the +corner by the door, I stepped on the box. I saw it lying there wrapped +up in paper. I took off the paper, saw some little hooks, undid them, +and in the box were the ear-rings....’” + +“Behind the door? Lying behind the door? Behind the door?” Raskolnikov +cried suddenly, staring with a blank look of terror at Razumihin, and he +slowly sat up on the sofa, leaning on his hand. + +“Yes... why? What’s the matter? What’s wrong?” Razumihin, too, got up +from his seat. + +“Nothing,” Raskolnikov answered faintly, turning to the wall. All were +silent for a while. + +“He must have waked from a dream,” Razumihin said at last, looking +inquiringly at Zossimov. The latter slightly shook his head. + +“Well, go on,” said Zossimov. “What next?” + +“What next? As soon as he saw the ear-rings, forgetting Dmitri and +everything, he took up his cap and ran to Dushkin and, as we know, got +a rouble from him. He told a lie saying he found them in the street, and +went off drinking. He keeps repeating his old story about the murder: +‘I know nothing of it, never heard of it till the day before yesterday.’ +‘And why didn’t you come to the police till now?’ ‘I was frightened.’ +‘And why did you try to hang yourself?’ ‘From anxiety.’ ‘What anxiety?’ +‘That I should be accused of it.’ Well, that’s the whole story. And now +what do you suppose they deduced from that?” + +“Why, there’s no supposing. There’s a clue, such as it is, a fact. You +wouldn’t have your painter set free?” + +“Now they’ve simply taken him for the murderer. They haven’t a shadow of +doubt.” + +“That’s nonsense. You are excited. But what about the ear-rings? You +must admit that, if on the very same day and hour ear-rings from the old +woman’s box have come into Nikolay’s hands, they must have come there +somehow. That’s a good deal in such a case.” + +“How did they get there? How did they get there?” cried Razumihin. +“How can you, a doctor, whose duty it is to study man and who has more +opportunity than anyone else for studying human nature--how can you fail +to see the character of the man in the whole story? Don’t you see at +once that the answers he has given in the examination are the holy +truth? They came into his hand precisely as he has told us--he stepped +on the box and picked it up.” + +“The holy truth! But didn’t he own himself that he told a lie at first?” + +“Listen to me, listen attentively. The porter and Koch and Pestryakov +and the other porter and the wife of the first porter and the woman who +was sitting in the porter’s lodge and the man Kryukov, who had just got +out of a cab at that minute and went in at the entry with a lady on his +arm, that is eight or ten witnesses, agree that Nikolay had Dmitri on +the ground, was lying on him beating him, while Dmitri hung on to his +hair, beating him, too. They lay right across the way, blocking the +thoroughfare. They were sworn at on all sides while they ‘like children’ +(the very words of the witnesses) were falling over one another, +squealing, fighting and laughing with the funniest faces, and, chasing +one another like children, they ran into the street. Now take careful +note. The bodies upstairs were warm, you understand, warm when they +found them! If they, or Nikolay alone, had murdered them and broken open +the boxes, or simply taken part in the robbery, allow me to ask you one +question: do their state of mind, their squeals and giggles and childish +scuffling at the gate fit in with axes, bloodshed, fiendish cunning, +robbery? They’d just killed them, not five or ten minutes before, for +the bodies were still warm, and at once, leaving the flat open, knowing +that people would go there at once, flinging away their booty, they +rolled about like children, laughing and attracting general attention. +And there are a dozen witnesses to swear to that!” + +“Of course it is strange! It’s impossible, indeed, but...” + +“No, brother, no _buts_. And if the ear-rings being found in Nikolay’s +hands at the very day and hour of the murder constitutes an important +piece of circumstantial evidence against him--although the explanation +given by him accounts for it, and therefore it does not tell seriously +against him--one must take into consideration the facts which prove him +innocent, especially as they are facts that _cannot be denied_. And +do you suppose, from the character of our legal system, that they will +accept, or that they are in a position to accept, this fact--resting +simply on a psychological impossibility--as irrefutable and conclusively +breaking down the circumstantial evidence for the prosecution? No, they +won’t accept it, they certainly won’t, because they found the jewel-case +and the man tried to hang himself, ‘which he could not have done if he +hadn’t felt guilty.’ That’s the point, that’s what excites me, you must +understand!” + +“Oh, I see you are excited! Wait a bit. I forgot to ask you; what proof +is there that the box came from the old woman?” + +“That’s been proved,” said Razumihin with apparent reluctance, frowning. +“Koch recognised the jewel-case and gave the name of the owner, who +proved conclusively that it was his.” + +“That’s bad. Now another point. Did anyone see Nikolay at the time +that Koch and Pestryakov were going upstairs at first, and is there no +evidence about that?” + +“Nobody did see him,” Razumihin answered with vexation. “That’s the +worst of it. Even Koch and Pestryakov did not notice them on their way +upstairs, though, indeed, their evidence could not have been worth much. +They said they saw the flat was open, and that there must be work going +on in it, but they took no special notice and could not remember whether +there actually were men at work in it.” + +“Hm!... So the only evidence for the defence is that they were beating +one another and laughing. That constitutes a strong presumption, but... +How do you explain the facts yourself?” + +“How do I explain them? What is there to explain? It’s clear. At any +rate, the direction in which explanation is to be sought is clear, and +the jewel-case points to it. The real murderer dropped those ear-rings. +The murderer was upstairs, locked in, when Koch and Pestryakov knocked +at the door. Koch, like an ass, did not stay at the door; so the +murderer popped out and ran down, too; for he had no other way of +escape. He hid from Koch, Pestryakov and the porter in the flat when +Nikolay and Dmitri had just run out of it. He stopped there while the +porter and others were going upstairs, waited till they were out of +hearing, and then went calmly downstairs at the very minute when Dmitri +and Nikolay ran out into the street and there was no one in the entry; +possibly he was seen, but not noticed. There are lots of people going +in and out. He must have dropped the ear-rings out of his pocket when +he stood behind the door, and did not notice he dropped them, because he +had other things to think of. The jewel-case is a conclusive proof that +he did stand there.... That’s how I explain it.” + +“Too clever! No, my boy, you’re too clever. That beats everything.” + +“But, why, why?” + +“Why, because everything fits too well... it’s too melodramatic.” + +“A-ach!” Razumihin was exclaiming, but at that moment the door opened +and a personage came in who was a stranger to all present. + + + +CHAPTER V + +This was a gentleman no longer young, of a stiff and portly appearance, +and a cautious and sour countenance. He began by stopping short in the +doorway, staring about him with offensive and undisguised astonishment, +as though asking himself what sort of place he had come to. +Mistrustfully and with an affectation of being alarmed and almost +affronted, he scanned Raskolnikov’s low and narrow “cabin.” With the +same amazement he stared at Raskolnikov, who lay undressed, dishevelled, +unwashed, on his miserable dirty sofa, looking fixedly at him. Then with +the same deliberation he scrutinised the uncouth, unkempt figure and +unshaven face of Razumihin, who looked him boldly and inquiringly in the +face without rising from his seat. A constrained silence lasted for a +couple of minutes, and then, as might be expected, some scene-shifting +took place. Reflecting, probably from certain fairly unmistakable signs, +that he would get nothing in this “cabin” by attempting to overawe them, +the gentleman softened somewhat, and civilly, though with some severity, +emphasising every syllable of his question, addressed Zossimov: + +“Rodion Romanovitch Raskolnikov, a student, or formerly a student?” + +Zossimov made a slight movement, and would have answered, had not +Razumihin anticipated him. + +“Here he is lying on the sofa! What do you want?” + +This familiar “what do you want” seemed to cut the ground from the +feet of the pompous gentleman. He was turning to Razumihin, but checked +himself in time and turned to Zossimov again. + +“This is Raskolnikov,” mumbled Zossimov, nodding towards him. Then he +gave a prolonged yawn, opening his mouth as wide as possible. Then he +lazily put his hand into his waistcoat-pocket, pulled out a huge gold +watch in a round hunter’s case, opened it, looked at it and as slowly +and lazily proceeded to put it back. + +Raskolnikov himself lay without speaking, on his back, gazing +persistently, though without understanding, at the stranger. Now that +his face was turned away from the strange flower on the paper, it +was extremely pale and wore a look of anguish, as though he had just +undergone an agonising operation or just been taken from the rack. But +the new-comer gradually began to arouse his attention, then his wonder, +then suspicion and even alarm. When Zossimov said “This is Raskolnikov” + he jumped up quickly, sat on the sofa and with an almost defiant, but +weak and breaking, voice articulated: + +“Yes, I am Raskolnikov! What do you want?” + +The visitor scrutinised him and pronounced impressively: + +“Pyotr Petrovitch Luzhin. I believe I have reason to hope that my name +is not wholly unknown to you?” + +But Raskolnikov, who had expected something quite different, gazed +blankly and dreamily at him, making no reply, as though he heard the +name of Pyotr Petrovitch for the first time. + +“Is it possible that you can up to the present have received no +information?” asked Pyotr Petrovitch, somewhat disconcerted. + +In reply Raskolnikov sank languidly back on the pillow, put his hands +behind his head and gazed at the ceiling. A look of dismay came into +Luzhin’s face. Zossimov and Razumihin stared at him more inquisitively +than ever, and at last he showed unmistakable signs of embarrassment. + +“I had presumed and calculated,” he faltered, “that a letter posted more +than ten days, if not a fortnight ago...” + +“I say, why are you standing in the doorway?” Razumihin interrupted +suddenly. “If you’ve something to say, sit down. Nastasya and you are so +crowded. Nastasya, make room. Here’s a chair, thread your way in!” + +He moved his chair back from the table, made a little space between the +table and his knees, and waited in a rather cramped position for the +visitor to “thread his way in.” The minute was so chosen that it was +impossible to refuse, and the visitor squeezed his way through, hurrying +and stumbling. Reaching the chair, he sat down, looking suspiciously at +Razumihin. + +“No need to be nervous,” the latter blurted out. “Rodya has been ill for +the last five days and delirious for three, but now he is recovering and +has got an appetite. This is his doctor, who has just had a look at him. +I am a comrade of Rodya’s, like him, formerly a student, and now I am +nursing him; so don’t you take any notice of us, but go on with your +business.” + +“Thank you. But shall I not disturb the invalid by my presence and +conversation?” Pyotr Petrovitch asked of Zossimov. + +“N-no,” mumbled Zossimov; “you may amuse him.” He yawned again. + +“He has been conscious a long time, since the morning,” went on +Razumihin, whose familiarity seemed so much like unaffected good-nature +that Pyotr Petrovitch began to be more cheerful, partly, perhaps, +because this shabby and impudent person had introduced himself as a +student. + +“Your mamma,” began Luzhin. + +“Hm!” Razumihin cleared his throat loudly. Luzhin looked at him +inquiringly. + +“That’s all right, go on.” + +Luzhin shrugged his shoulders. + +“Your mamma had commenced a letter to you while I was sojourning in +her neighbourhood. On my arrival here I purposely allowed a few days to +elapse before coming to see you, in order that I might be fully +assured that you were in full possession of the tidings; but now, to my +astonishment...” + +“I know, I know!” Raskolnikov cried suddenly with impatient vexation. +“So you are the _fiancé_? I know, and that’s enough!” + +There was no doubt about Pyotr Petrovitch’s being offended this time, +but he said nothing. He made a violent effort to understand what it all +meant. There was a moment’s silence. + +Meanwhile Raskolnikov, who had turned a little towards him when he +answered, began suddenly staring at him again with marked curiosity, as +though he had not had a good look at him yet, or as though something +new had struck him; he rose from his pillow on purpose to stare at +him. There certainly was something peculiar in Pyotr Petrovitch’s whole +appearance, something which seemed to justify the title of “fiancé” so +unceremoniously applied to him. In the first place, it was evident, far +too much so indeed, that Pyotr Petrovitch had made eager use of his few +days in the capital to get himself up and rig himself out in expectation +of his betrothed--a perfectly innocent and permissible proceeding, +indeed. Even his own, perhaps too complacent, consciousness of the +agreeable improvement in his appearance might have been forgiven in such +circumstances, seeing that Pyotr Petrovitch had taken up the rôle of +fiancé. All his clothes were fresh from the tailor’s and were all +right, except for being too new and too distinctly appropriate. Even +the stylish new round hat had the same significance. Pyotr Petrovitch +treated it too respectfully and held it too carefully in his hands. The +exquisite pair of lavender gloves, real Louvain, told the same tale, +if only from the fact of his not wearing them, but carrying them in +his hand for show. Light and youthful colours predominated in Pyotr +Petrovitch’s attire. He wore a charming summer jacket of a fawn shade, +light thin trousers, a waistcoat of the same, new and fine linen, a +cravat of the lightest cambric with pink stripes on it, and the best +of it was, this all suited Pyotr Petrovitch. His very fresh and even +handsome face looked younger than his forty-five years at all times. +His dark, mutton-chop whiskers made an agreeable setting on both sides, +growing thickly upon his shining, clean-shaven chin. Even his hair, +touched here and there with grey, though it had been combed and curled +at a hairdresser’s, did not give him a stupid appearance, as curled hair +usually does, by inevitably suggesting a German on his wedding-day. +If there really was something unpleasing and repulsive in his rather +good-looking and imposing countenance, it was due to quite other +causes. After scanning Mr. Luzhin unceremoniously, Raskolnikov smiled +malignantly, sank back on the pillow and stared at the ceiling as +before. + +But Mr. Luzhin hardened his heart and seemed to determine to take no +notice of their oddities. + +“I feel the greatest regret at finding you in this situation,” he began, +again breaking the silence with an effort. “If I had been aware of your +illness I should have come earlier. But you know what business is. I +have, too, a very important legal affair in the Senate, not to mention +other preoccupations which you may well conjecture. I am expecting your +mamma and sister any minute.” + +Raskolnikov made a movement and seemed about to speak; his face showed +some excitement. Pyotr Petrovitch paused, waited, but as nothing +followed, he went on: + +“... Any minute. I have found a lodging for them on their arrival.” + +“Where?” asked Raskolnikov weakly. + +“Very near here, in Bakaleyev’s house.” + +“That’s in Voskresensky,” put in Razumihin. “There are two storeys of +rooms, let by a merchant called Yushin; I’ve been there.” + +“Yes, rooms...” + +“A disgusting place--filthy, stinking and, what’s more, of doubtful +character. Things have happened there, and there are all sorts of queer +people living there. And I went there about a scandalous business. It’s +cheap, though...” + +“I could not, of course, find out so much about it, for I am a stranger +in Petersburg myself,” Pyotr Petrovitch replied huffily. “However, the +two rooms are exceedingly clean, and as it is for so short a time... +I have already taken a permanent, that is, our future flat,” he said, +addressing Raskolnikov, “and I am having it done up. And meanwhile I am +myself cramped for room in a lodging with my friend Andrey Semyonovitch +Lebeziatnikov, in the flat of Madame Lippevechsel; it was he who told me +of Bakaleyev’s house, too...” + +“Lebeziatnikov?” said Raskolnikov slowly, as if recalling something. + +“Yes, Andrey Semyonovitch Lebeziatnikov, a clerk in the Ministry. Do you +know him?” + +“Yes... no,” Raskolnikov answered. + +“Excuse me, I fancied so from your inquiry. I was once his guardian.... +A very nice young man and advanced. I like to meet young people: one +learns new things from them.” Luzhin looked round hopefully at them all. + +“How do you mean?” asked Razumihin. + +“In the most serious and essential matters,” Pyotr Petrovitch replied, +as though delighted at the question. “You see, it’s ten years since I +visited Petersburg. All the novelties, reforms, ideas have reached us in +the provinces, but to see it all more clearly one must be in Petersburg. +And it’s my notion that you observe and learn most by watching the +younger generation. And I confess I am delighted...” + +“At what?” + +“Your question is a wide one. I may be mistaken, but I fancy I find +clearer views, more, so to say, criticism, more practicality...” + +“That’s true,” Zossimov let drop. + +“Nonsense! There’s no practicality.” Razumihin flew at him. +“Practicality is a difficult thing to find; it does not drop down from +heaven. And for the last two hundred years we have been divorced from +all practical life. Ideas, if you like, are fermenting,” he said to +Pyotr Petrovitch, “and desire for good exists, though it’s in a childish +form, and honesty you may find, although there are crowds of brigands. +Anyway, there’s no practicality. Practicality goes well shod.” + +“I don’t agree with you,” Pyotr Petrovitch replied, with evident +enjoyment. “Of course, people do get carried away and make mistakes, +but one must have indulgence; those mistakes are merely evidence of +enthusiasm for the cause and of abnormal external environment. If little +has been done, the time has been but short; of means I will not speak. +It’s my personal view, if you care to know, that something has been +accomplished already. New valuable ideas, new valuable works are +circulating in the place of our old dreamy and romantic authors. +Literature is taking a maturer form, many injurious prejudices have been +rooted up and turned into ridicule.... In a word, we have cut ourselves +off irrevocably from the past, and that, to my thinking, is a great +thing...” + +“He’s learnt it by heart to show off!” Raskolnikov pronounced suddenly. + +“What?” asked Pyotr Petrovitch, not catching his words; but he received +no reply. + +“That’s all true,” Zossimov hastened to interpose. + +“Isn’t it so?” Pyotr Petrovitch went on, glancing affably at Zossimov. +“You must admit,” he went on, addressing Razumihin with a shade of +triumph and superciliousness--he almost added “young man”--“that there +is an advance, or, as they say now, progress in the name of science and +economic truth...” + +“A commonplace.” + +“No, not a commonplace! Hitherto, for instance, if I were told, ‘love +thy neighbour,’ what came of it?” Pyotr Petrovitch went on, perhaps with +excessive haste. “It came to my tearing my coat in half to share with my +neighbour and we both were left half naked. As a Russian proverb has +it, ‘Catch several hares and you won’t catch one.’ Science now tells +us, love yourself before all men, for everything in the world rests on +self-interest. You love yourself and manage your own affairs properly +and your coat remains whole. Economic truth adds that the better private +affairs are organised in society--the more whole coats, so to say--the +firmer are its foundations and the better is the common welfare +organised too. Therefore, in acquiring wealth solely and exclusively for +myself, I am acquiring, so to speak, for all, and helping to bring to +pass my neighbour’s getting a little more than a torn coat; and that not +from private, personal liberality, but as a consequence of the general +advance. The idea is simple, but unhappily it has been a long time +reaching us, being hindered by idealism and sentimentality. And yet it +would seem to want very little wit to perceive it...” + +“Excuse me, I’ve very little wit myself,” Razumihin cut in sharply, +“and so let us drop it. I began this discussion with an object, but I’ve +grown so sick during the last three years of this chattering to amuse +oneself, of this incessant flow of commonplaces, always the same, that, +by Jove, I blush even when other people talk like that. You are in a +hurry, no doubt, to exhibit your acquirements; and I don’t blame you, +that’s quite pardonable. I only wanted to find out what sort of man you +are, for so many unscrupulous people have got hold of the progressive +cause of late and have so distorted in their own interests everything +they touched, that the whole cause has been dragged in the mire. That’s +enough!” + +“Excuse me, sir,” said Luzhin, affronted, and speaking with excessive +dignity. “Do you mean to suggest so unceremoniously that I too...” + +“Oh, my dear sir... how could I?... Come, that’s enough,” Razumihin +concluded, and he turned abruptly to Zossimov to continue their previous +conversation. + +Pyotr Petrovitch had the good sense to accept the disavowal. He made up +his mind to take leave in another minute or two. + +“I trust our acquaintance,” he said, addressing Raskolnikov, “may, upon +your recovery and in view of the circumstances of which you are aware, +become closer... Above all, I hope for your return to health...” + +Raskolnikov did not even turn his head. Pyotr Petrovitch began getting +up from his chair. + +“One of her customers must have killed her,” Zossimov declared +positively. + +“Not a doubt of it,” replied Razumihin. “Porfiry doesn’t give his +opinion, but is examining all who have left pledges with her there.” + +“Examining them?” Raskolnikov asked aloud. + +“Yes. What then?” + +“Nothing.” + +“How does he get hold of them?” asked Zossimov. + +“Koch has given the names of some of them, other names are on the +wrappers of the pledges and some have come forward of themselves.” + +“It must have been a cunning and practised ruffian! The boldness of it! +The coolness!” + +“That’s just what it wasn’t!” interposed Razumihin. “That’s what throws +you all off the scent. But I maintain that he is not cunning, not +practised, and probably this was his first crime! The supposition that +it was a calculated crime and a cunning criminal doesn’t work. Suppose +him to have been inexperienced, and it’s clear that it was only a chance +that saved him--and chance may do anything. Why, he did not foresee +obstacles, perhaps! And how did he set to work? He took jewels worth +ten or twenty roubles, stuffing his pockets with them, ransacked the +old woman’s trunks, her rags--and they found fifteen hundred roubles, +besides notes, in a box in the top drawer of the chest! He did not know +how to rob; he could only murder. It was his first crime, I assure you, +his first crime; he lost his head. And he got off more by luck than good +counsel!” + +“You are talking of the murder of the old pawnbroker, I believe?” Pyotr +Petrovitch put in, addressing Zossimov. He was standing, hat and gloves +in hand, but before departing he felt disposed to throw off a few more +intellectual phrases. He was evidently anxious to make a favourable +impression and his vanity overcame his prudence. + +“Yes. You’ve heard of it?” + +“Oh, yes, being in the neighbourhood.” + +“Do you know the details?” + +“I can’t say that; but another circumstance interests me in the +case--the whole question, so to say. Not to speak of the fact that crime +has been greatly on the increase among the lower classes during the last +five years, not to speak of the cases of robbery and arson everywhere, +what strikes me as the strangest thing is that in the higher classes, +too, crime is increasing proportionately. In one place one hears of a +student’s robbing the mail on the high road; in another place people of +good social position forge false banknotes; in Moscow of late a whole +gang has been captured who used to forge lottery tickets, and one of +the ringleaders was a lecturer in universal history; then our secretary +abroad was murdered from some obscure motive of gain.... And if this old +woman, the pawnbroker, has been murdered by someone of a higher class +in society--for peasants don’t pawn gold trinkets--how are we to explain +this demoralisation of the civilised part of our society?” + +“There are many economic changes,” put in Zossimov. + +“How are we to explain it?” Razumihin caught him up. “It might be +explained by our inveterate impracticality.” + +“How do you mean?” + +“What answer had your lecturer in Moscow to make to the question why he +was forging notes? ‘Everybody is getting rich one way or another, so I +want to make haste to get rich too.’ I don’t remember the exact words, +but the upshot was that he wants money for nothing, without waiting or +working! We’ve grown used to having everything ready-made, to walking +on crutches, to having our food chewed for us. Then the great hour +struck,[*] and every man showed himself in his true colours.” + + [*] The emancipation of the serfs in 1861 is meant. + --TRANSLATOR’S NOTE. + +“But morality? And so to speak, principles...” + +“But why do you worry about it?” Raskolnikov interposed suddenly. “It’s +in accordance with your theory!” + +“In accordance with my theory?” + +“Why, carry out logically the theory you were advocating just now, and +it follows that people may be killed...” + +“Upon my word!” cried Luzhin. + +“No, that’s not so,” put in Zossimov. + +Raskolnikov lay with a white face and twitching upper lip, breathing +painfully. + +“There’s a measure in all things,” Luzhin went on superciliously. +“Economic ideas are not an incitement to murder, and one has but to +suppose...” + +“And is it true,” Raskolnikov interposed once more suddenly, again in a +voice quivering with fury and delight in insulting him, “is it true that +you told your _fiancée_... within an hour of her acceptance, that what +pleased you most... was that she was a beggar... because it was better +to raise a wife from poverty, so that you may have complete control over +her, and reproach her with your being her benefactor?” + +“Upon my word,” Luzhin cried wrathfully and irritably, crimson with +confusion, “to distort my words in this way! Excuse me, allow me to +assure you that the report which has reached you, or rather, let me say, +has been conveyed to you, has no foundation in truth, and I... suspect +who... in a word... this arrow... in a word, your mamma... She seemed +to me in other things, with all her excellent qualities, of a somewhat +high-flown and romantic way of thinking.... But I was a thousand miles +from supposing that she would misunderstand and misrepresent things in +so fanciful a way.... And indeed... indeed...” + +“I tell you what,” cried Raskolnikov, raising himself on his pillow and +fixing his piercing, glittering eyes upon him, “I tell you what.” + +“What?” Luzhin stood still, waiting with a defiant and offended face. +Silence lasted for some seconds. + +“Why, if ever again... you dare to mention a single word... about my +mother... I shall send you flying downstairs!” + +“What’s the matter with you?” cried Razumihin. + +“So that’s how it is?” Luzhin turned pale and bit his lip. “Let me tell +you, sir,” he began deliberately, doing his utmost to restrain himself +but breathing hard, “at the first moment I saw you you were ill-disposed +to me, but I remained here on purpose to find out more. I could forgive +a great deal in a sick man and a connection, but you... never after +this...” + +“I am not ill,” cried Raskolnikov. + +“So much the worse...” + +“Go to hell!” + +But Luzhin was already leaving without finishing his speech, squeezing +between the table and the chair; Razumihin got up this time to let him +pass. Without glancing at anyone, and not even nodding to Zossimov, who +had for some time been making signs to him to let the sick man alone, +he went out, lifting his hat to the level of his shoulders to avoid +crushing it as he stooped to go out of the door. And even the curve of +his spine was expressive of the horrible insult he had received. + +“How could you--how could you!” Razumihin said, shaking his head in +perplexity. + +“Let me alone--let me alone all of you!” Raskolnikov cried in a frenzy. +“Will you ever leave off tormenting me? I am not afraid of you! I am +not afraid of anyone, anyone now! Get away from me! I want to be alone, +alone, alone!” + +“Come along,” said Zossimov, nodding to Razumihin. + +“But we can’t leave him like this!” + +“Come along,” Zossimov repeated insistently, and he went out. Razumihin +thought a minute and ran to overtake him. + +“It might be worse not to obey him,” said Zossimov on the stairs. “He +mustn’t be irritated.” + +“What’s the matter with him?” + +“If only he could get some favourable shock, that’s what would do it! At +first he was better.... You know he has got something on his mind! Some +fixed idea weighing on him.... I am very much afraid so; he must have!” + +“Perhaps it’s that gentleman, Pyotr Petrovitch. From his conversation +I gather he is going to marry his sister, and that he had received a +letter about it just before his illness....” + +“Yes, confound the man! he may have upset the case altogether. But have +you noticed, he takes no interest in anything, he does not respond to +anything except one point on which he seems excited--that’s the murder?” + +“Yes, yes,” Razumihin agreed, “I noticed that, too. He is interested, +frightened. It gave him a shock on the day he was ill in the police +office; he fainted.” + +“Tell me more about that this evening and I’ll tell you something +afterwards. He interests me very much! In half an hour I’ll go and see +him again.... There’ll be no inflammation though.” + +“Thanks! And I’ll wait with Pashenka meantime and will keep watch on him +through Nastasya....” + +Raskolnikov, left alone, looked with impatience and misery at Nastasya, +but she still lingered. + +“Won’t you have some tea now?” she asked. + +“Later! I am sleepy! Leave me.” + +He turned abruptly to the wall; Nastasya went out. + + + +CHAPTER VI + +But as soon as she went out, he got up, latched the door, undid the +parcel which Razumihin had brought in that evening and had tied up again +and began dressing. Strange to say, he seemed immediately to have become +perfectly calm; not a trace of his recent delirium nor of the panic +fear that had haunted him of late. It was the first moment of a strange +sudden calm. His movements were precise and definite; a firm purpose was +evident in them. “To-day, to-day,” he muttered to himself. He understood +that he was still weak, but his intense spiritual concentration gave him +strength and self-confidence. He hoped, moreover, that he would not +fall down in the street. When he had dressed in entirely new clothes, he +looked at the money lying on the table, and after a moment’s thought +put it in his pocket. It was twenty-five roubles. He took also all the +copper change from the ten roubles spent by Razumihin on the clothes. +Then he softly unlatched the door, went out, slipped downstairs and +glanced in at the open kitchen door. Nastasya was standing with her back +to him, blowing up the landlady’s samovar. She heard nothing. Who would +have dreamed of his going out, indeed? A minute later he was in the +street. + +It was nearly eight o’clock, the sun was setting. It was as stifling as +before, but he eagerly drank in the stinking, dusty town air. His head +felt rather dizzy; a sort of savage energy gleamed suddenly in his +feverish eyes and his wasted, pale and yellow face. He did not know and +did not think where he was going, he had one thought only: “that all +_this_ must be ended to-day, once for all, immediately; that he would +not return home without it, because he _would not go on living like +that_.” How, with what to make an end? He had not an idea about it, +he did not even want to think of it. He drove away thought; thought +tortured him. All he knew, all he felt was that everything must be +changed “one way or another,” he repeated with desperate and immovable +self-confidence and determination. + +From old habit he took his usual walk in the direction of the Hay +Market. A dark-haired young man with a barrel organ was standing in +the road in front of a little general shop and was grinding out a very +sentimental song. He was accompanying a girl of fifteen, who stood +on the pavement in front of him. She was dressed up in a crinoline, a +mantle and a straw hat with a flame-coloured feather in it, all very +old and shabby. In a strong and rather agreeable voice, cracked and +coarsened by street singing, she sang in hope of getting a copper from +the shop. Raskolnikov joined two or three listeners, took out a five +copeck piece and put it in the girl’s hand. She broke off abruptly on a +sentimental high note, shouted sharply to the organ grinder “Come on,” + and both moved on to the next shop. + +“Do you like street music?” said Raskolnikov, addressing a middle-aged +man standing idly by him. The man looked at him, startled and wondering. + +“I love to hear singing to a street organ,” said Raskolnikov, and his +manner seemed strangely out of keeping with the subject--“I like it +on cold, dark, damp autumn evenings--they must be damp--when all the +passers-by have pale green, sickly faces, or better still when wet +snow is falling straight down, when there’s no wind--you know what I +mean?--and the street lamps shine through it...” + +“I don’t know.... Excuse me...” muttered the stranger, frightened by the +question and Raskolnikov’s strange manner, and he crossed over to the +other side of the street. + +Raskolnikov walked straight on and came out at the corner of the Hay +Market, where the huckster and his wife had talked with Lizaveta; but +they were not there now. Recognising the place, he stopped, looked round +and addressed a young fellow in a red shirt who stood gaping before a +corn chandler’s shop. + +“Isn’t there a man who keeps a booth with his wife at this corner?” + +“All sorts of people keep booths here,” answered the young man, glancing +superciliously at Raskolnikov. + +“What’s his name?” + +“What he was christened.” + +“Aren’t you a Zaraïsky man, too? Which province?” + +The young man looked at Raskolnikov again. + +“It’s not a province, your excellency, but a district. Graciously +forgive me, your excellency!” + +“Is that a tavern at the top there?” + +“Yes, it’s an eating-house and there’s a billiard-room and you’ll find +princesses there too.... La-la!” + +Raskolnikov crossed the square. In that corner there was a dense crowd +of peasants. He pushed his way into the thickest part of it, looking +at the faces. He felt an unaccountable inclination to enter into +conversation with people. But the peasants took no notice of him; they +were all shouting in groups together. He stood and thought a little and +took a turning to the right in the direction of V. + +He had often crossed that little street which turns at an angle, leading +from the market-place to Sadovy Street. Of late he had often felt drawn +to wander about this district, when he felt depressed, that he might +feel more so. + +Now he walked along, thinking of nothing. At that point there is a great +block of buildings, entirely let out in dram shops and eating-houses; +women were continually running in and out, bare-headed and in their +indoor clothes. Here and there they gathered in groups, on the pavement, +especially about the entrances to various festive establishments in +the lower storeys. From one of these a loud din, sounds of singing, the +tinkling of a guitar and shouts of merriment, floated into the street. +A crowd of women were thronging round the door; some were sitting on the +steps, others on the pavement, others were standing talking. A drunken +soldier, smoking a cigarette, was walking near them in the road, +swearing; he seemed to be trying to find his way somewhere, but had +forgotten where. One beggar was quarrelling with another, and a man dead +drunk was lying right across the road. Raskolnikov joined the throng of +women, who were talking in husky voices. They were bare-headed and wore +cotton dresses and goatskin shoes. There were women of forty and some +not more than seventeen; almost all had blackened eyes. + +He felt strangely attracted by the singing and all the noise and +uproar in the saloon below.... someone could be heard within dancing +frantically, marking time with his heels to the sounds of the guitar +and of a thin falsetto voice singing a jaunty air. He listened intently, +gloomily and dreamily, bending down at the entrance and peeping +inquisitively in from the pavement. + + “Oh, my handsome soldier + Don’t beat me for nothing,” + +trilled the thin voice of the singer. Raskolnikov felt a great desire to +make out what he was singing, as though everything depended on that. + +“Shall I go in?” he thought. “They are laughing. From drink. Shall I get +drunk?” + +“Won’t you come in?” one of the women asked him. Her voice was +still musical and less thick than the others, she was young and not +repulsive--the only one of the group. + +“Why, she’s pretty,” he said, drawing himself up and looking at her. + +She smiled, much pleased at the compliment. + +“You’re very nice looking yourself,” she said. + +“Isn’t he thin though!” observed another woman in a deep bass. “Have you +just come out of a hospital?” + +“They’re all generals’ daughters, it seems, but they have all snub +noses,” interposed a tipsy peasant with a sly smile on his face, wearing +a loose coat. “See how jolly they are.” + +“Go along with you!” + +“I’ll go, sweetie!” + +And he darted down into the saloon below. Raskolnikov moved on. + +“I say, sir,” the girl shouted after him. + +“What is it?” + +She hesitated. + +“I’ll always be pleased to spend an hour with you, kind gentleman, but +now I feel shy. Give me six copecks for a drink, there’s a nice young +man!” + +Raskolnikov gave her what came first--fifteen copecks. + +“Ah, what a good-natured gentleman!” + +“What’s your name?” + +“Ask for Duclida.” + +“Well, that’s too much,” one of the women observed, shaking her head +at Duclida. “I don’t know how you can ask like that. I believe I should +drop with shame....” + +Raskolnikov looked curiously at the speaker. She was a pock-marked wench +of thirty, covered with bruises, with her upper lip swollen. She made +her criticism quietly and earnestly. “Where is it,” thought Raskolnikov. +“Where is it I’ve read that someone condemned to death says or thinks, +an hour before his death, that if he had to live on some high rock, +on such a narrow ledge that he’d only room to stand, and the ocean, +everlasting darkness, everlasting solitude, everlasting tempest around +him, if he had to remain standing on a square yard of space all his +life, a thousand years, eternity, it were better to live so than to die +at once! Only to live, to live and live! Life, whatever it may be!... +How true it is! Good God, how true! Man is a vile creature!... And vile +is he who calls him vile for that,” he added a moment later. + +He went into another street. “Bah, the Palais de Cristal! Razumihin +was just talking of the Palais de Cristal. But what on earth was it +I wanted? Yes, the newspapers.... Zossimov said he’d read it in the +papers. Have you the papers?” he asked, going into a very spacious and +positively clean restaurant, consisting of several rooms, which were, +however, rather empty. Two or three people were drinking tea, and in a +room further away were sitting four men drinking champagne. Raskolnikov +fancied that Zametov was one of them, but he could not be sure at that +distance. “What if it is?” he thought. + +“Will you have vodka?” asked the waiter. + +“Give me some tea and bring me the papers, the old ones for the last +five days, and I’ll give you something.” + +“Yes, sir, here’s to-day’s. No vodka?” + +The old newspapers and the tea were brought. Raskolnikov sat down and +began to look through them. + +“Oh, damn... these are the items of intelligence. An accident on a +staircase, spontaneous combustion of a shopkeeper from alcohol, a fire +in Peski... a fire in the Petersburg quarter... another fire in the +Petersburg quarter... and another fire in the Petersburg quarter.... +Ah, here it is!” He found at last what he was seeking and began to +read it. The lines danced before his eyes, but he read it all and began +eagerly seeking later additions in the following numbers. His hands +shook with nervous impatience as he turned the sheets. Suddenly someone +sat down beside him at his table. He looked up, it was the head clerk +Zametov, looking just the same, with the rings on his fingers and the +watch-chain, with the curly, black hair, parted and pomaded, with the +smart waistcoat, rather shabby coat and doubtful linen. He was in a good +humour, at least he was smiling very gaily and good-humouredly. His dark +face was rather flushed from the champagne he had drunk. + +“What, you here?” he began in surprise, speaking as though he’d known +him all his life. “Why, Razumihin told me only yesterday you were +unconscious. How strange! And do you know I’ve been to see you?” + +Raskolnikov knew he would come up to him. He laid aside the papers and +turned to Zametov. There was a smile on his lips, and a new shade of +irritable impatience was apparent in that smile. + +“I know you have,” he answered. “I’ve heard it. You looked for my +sock.... And you know Razumihin has lost his heart to you? He says +you’ve been with him to Luise Ivanovna’s--you know, the woman you tried +to befriend, for whom you winked to the Explosive Lieutenant and he +would not understand. Do you remember? How could he fail to +understand--it was quite clear, wasn’t it?” + +“What a hot head he is!” + +“The explosive one?” + +“No, your friend Razumihin.” + +“You must have a jolly life, Mr. Zametov; entrance free to the most +agreeable places. Who’s been pouring champagne into you just now?” + +“We’ve just been... having a drink together.... You talk about pouring +it into me!” + +“By way of a fee! You profit by everything!” Raskolnikov laughed, “it’s +all right, my dear boy,” he added, slapping Zametov on the shoulder. “I +am not speaking from temper, but in a friendly way, for sport, as that +workman of yours said when he was scuffling with Dmitri, in the case of +the old woman....” + +“How do you know about it?” + +“Perhaps I know more about it than you do.” + +“How strange you are.... I am sure you are still very unwell. You +oughtn’t to have come out.” + +“Oh, do I seem strange to you?” + +“Yes. What are you doing, reading the papers?” + +“Yes.” + +“There’s a lot about the fires.” + +“No, I am not reading about the fires.” Here he looked mysteriously at +Zametov; his lips were twisted again in a mocking smile. “No, I am not +reading about the fires,” he went on, winking at Zametov. “But confess +now, my dear fellow, you’re awfully anxious to know what I am reading +about?” + +“I am not in the least. Mayn’t I ask a question? Why do you keep +on...?” + +“Listen, you are a man of culture and education?” + +“I was in the sixth class at the gymnasium,” said Zametov with some +dignity. + +“Sixth class! Ah, my cock-sparrow! With your parting and your rings--you +are a gentleman of fortune. Foo! what a charming boy!” Here Raskolnikov +broke into a nervous laugh right in Zametov’s face. The latter drew +back, more amazed than offended. + +“Foo! how strange you are!” Zametov repeated very seriously. “I can’t +help thinking you are still delirious.” + +“I am delirious? You are fibbing, my cock-sparrow! So I am strange? You +find me curious, do you?” + +“Yes, curious.” + +“Shall I tell you what I was reading about, what I was looking for? See +what a lot of papers I’ve made them bring me. Suspicious, eh?” + +“Well, what is it?” + +“You prick up your ears?” + +“How do you mean--‘prick up my ears’?” + +“I’ll explain that afterwards, but now, my boy, I declare to you... no, +better ‘I confess’... No, that’s not right either; ‘I make a deposition +and you take it.’ I depose that I was reading, that I was looking and +searching....” he screwed up his eyes and paused. “I was searching--and +came here on purpose to do it--for news of the murder of the old +pawnbroker woman,” he articulated at last, almost in a whisper, bringing +his face exceedingly close to the face of Zametov. Zametov looked at him +steadily, without moving or drawing his face away. What struck Zametov +afterwards as the strangest part of it all was that silence followed for +exactly a minute, and that they gazed at one another all the while. + +“What if you have been reading about it?” he cried at last, perplexed +and impatient. “That’s no business of mine! What of it?” + +“The same old woman,” Raskolnikov went on in the same whisper, not +heeding Zametov’s explanation, “about whom you were talking in the +police-office, you remember, when I fainted. Well, do you understand +now?” + +“What do you mean? Understand... what?” Zametov brought out, almost +alarmed. + +Raskolnikov’s set and earnest face was suddenly transformed, and he +suddenly went off into the same nervous laugh as before, as though +utterly unable to restrain himself. And in one flash he recalled with +extraordinary vividness of sensation a moment in the recent past, that +moment when he stood with the axe behind the door, while the latch +trembled and the men outside swore and shook it, and he had a sudden +desire to shout at them, to swear at them, to put out his tongue at +them, to mock them, to laugh, and laugh, and laugh! + +“You are either mad, or...” began Zametov, and he broke off, as though +stunned by the idea that had suddenly flashed into his mind. + +“Or? Or what? What? Come, tell me!” + +“Nothing,” said Zametov, getting angry, “it’s all nonsense!” + +Both were silent. After his sudden fit of laughter Raskolnikov became +suddenly thoughtful and melancholy. He put his elbow on the table and +leaned his head on his hand. He seemed to have completely forgotten +Zametov. The silence lasted for some time. + +“Why don’t you drink your tea? It’s getting cold,” said Zametov. + +“What! Tea? Oh, yes....” Raskolnikov sipped the glass, put a morsel of +bread in his mouth and, suddenly looking at Zametov, seemed to remember +everything and pulled himself together. At the same moment his face +resumed its original mocking expression. He went on drinking tea. + +“There have been a great many of these crimes lately,” said Zametov. +“Only the other day I read in the _Moscow News_ that a whole gang of +false coiners had been caught in Moscow. It was a regular society. They +used to forge tickets!” + +“Oh, but it was a long time ago! I read about it a month ago,” + Raskolnikov answered calmly. “So you consider them criminals?” he added, +smiling. + +“Of course they are criminals.” + +“They? They are children, simpletons, not criminals! Why, half a hundred +people meeting for such an object--what an idea! Three would be too +many, and then they want to have more faith in one another than in +themselves! One has only to blab in his cups and it all collapses. +Simpletons! They engaged untrustworthy people to change the notes--what +a thing to trust to a casual stranger! Well, let us suppose that these +simpletons succeed and each makes a million, and what follows for the +rest of their lives? Each is dependent on the others for the rest of his +life! Better hang oneself at once! And they did not know how to change +the notes either; the man who changed the notes took five thousand +roubles, and his hands trembled. He counted the first four thousand, +but did not count the fifth thousand--he was in such a hurry to get the +money into his pocket and run away. Of course he roused suspicion. And +the whole thing came to a crash through one fool! Is it possible?” + +“That his hands trembled?” observed Zametov, “yes, that’s quite +possible. That, I feel quite sure, is possible. Sometimes one can’t +stand things.” + +“Can’t stand that?” + +“Why, could you stand it then? No, I couldn’t. For the sake of a hundred +roubles to face such a terrible experience? To go with false notes +into a bank where it’s their business to spot that sort of thing! No, I +should not have the face to do it. Would you?” + +Raskolnikov had an intense desire again “to put his tongue out.” Shivers +kept running down his spine. + +“I should do it quite differently,” Raskolnikov began. “This is how I +would change the notes: I’d count the first thousand three or four times +backwards and forwards, looking at every note and then I’d set to the +second thousand; I’d count that half-way through and then hold some +fifty-rouble note to the light, then turn it, then hold it to the light +again--to see whether it was a good one. ‘I am afraid,’ I would say, ‘a +relation of mine lost twenty-five roubles the other day through a +false note,’ and then I’d tell them the whole story. And after I began +counting the third, ‘No, excuse me,’ I would say, ‘I fancy I made a +mistake in the seventh hundred in that second thousand, I am not sure.’ +And so I would give up the third thousand and go back to the second and +so on to the end. And when I had finished, I’d pick out one from the +fifth and one from the second thousand and take them again to the light +and ask again, ‘Change them, please,’ and put the clerk into such a stew +that he would not know how to get rid of me. When I’d finished and had +gone out, I’d come back, ‘No, excuse me,’ and ask for some explanation. +That’s how I’d do it.” + +“Foo! what terrible things you say!” said Zametov, laughing. “But all +that is only talk. I dare say when it came to deeds you’d make a slip. +I believe that even a practised, desperate man cannot always reckon on +himself, much less you and I. To take an example near home--that old +woman murdered in our district. The murderer seems to have been a +desperate fellow, he risked everything in open daylight, was saved by +a miracle--but his hands shook, too. He did not succeed in robbing the +place, he couldn’t stand it. That was clear from the...” + +Raskolnikov seemed offended. + +“Clear? Why don’t you catch him then?” he cried, maliciously gibing at +Zametov. + +“Well, they will catch him.” + +“Who? You? Do you suppose you could catch him? You’ve a tough job! A +great point for you is whether a man is spending money or not. If he had +no money and suddenly begins spending, he must be the man. So that any +child can mislead you.” + +“The fact is they always do that, though,” answered Zametov. “A man will +commit a clever murder at the risk of his life and then at once he goes +drinking in a tavern. They are caught spending money, they are not all +as cunning as you are. You wouldn’t go to a tavern, of course?” + +Raskolnikov frowned and looked steadily at Zametov. + +“You seem to enjoy the subject and would like to know how I should +behave in that case, too?” he asked with displeasure. + +“I should like to,” Zametov answered firmly and seriously. Somewhat too +much earnestness began to appear in his words and looks. + +“Very much?” + +“Very much!” + +“All right then. This is how I should behave,” Raskolnikov began, again +bringing his face close to Zametov’s, again staring at him and speaking +in a whisper, so that the latter positively shuddered. “This is what +I should have done. I should have taken the money and jewels, I should +have walked out of there and have gone straight to some deserted place +with fences round it and scarcely anyone to be seen, some kitchen garden +or place of that sort. I should have looked out beforehand some stone +weighing a hundredweight or more which had been lying in the corner from +the time the house was built. I would lift that stone--there would sure +to be a hollow under it, and I would put the jewels and money in that +hole. Then I’d roll the stone back so that it would look as before, +would press it down with my foot and walk away. And for a year or two, +three maybe, I would not touch it. And, well, they could search! There’d +be no trace.” + +“You are a madman,” said Zametov, and for some reason he too spoke in a +whisper, and moved away from Raskolnikov, whose eyes were glittering. He +had turned fearfully pale and his upper lip was twitching and quivering. +He bent down as close as possible to Zametov, and his lips began to move +without uttering a word. This lasted for half a minute; he knew what he +was doing, but could not restrain himself. The terrible word trembled on +his lips, like the latch on that door; in another moment it will break +out, in another moment he will let it go, he will speak out. + +“And what if it was I who murdered the old woman and Lizaveta?” he said +suddenly and--realised what he had done. + +Zametov looked wildly at him and turned white as the tablecloth. His +face wore a contorted smile. + +“But is it possible?” he brought out faintly. Raskolnikov looked +wrathfully at him. + +“Own up that you believed it, yes, you did?” + +“Not a bit of it, I believe it less than ever now,” Zametov cried +hastily. + +“I’ve caught my cock-sparrow! So you did believe it before, if now you +believe less than ever?” + +“Not at all,” cried Zametov, obviously embarrassed. “Have you been +frightening me so as to lead up to this?” + +“You don’t believe it then? What were you talking about behind my +back when I went out of the police-office? And why did the explosive +lieutenant question me after I fainted? Hey, there,” he shouted to the +waiter, getting up and taking his cap, “how much?” + +“Thirty copecks,” the latter replied, running up. + +“And there is twenty copecks for vodka. See what a lot of money!” he +held out his shaking hand to Zametov with notes in it. “Red notes and +blue, twenty-five roubles. Where did I get them? And where did my new +clothes come from? You know I had not a copeck. You’ve cross-examined my +landlady, I’ll be bound.... Well, that’s enough! _Assez causé!_ Till we +meet again!” + +He went out, trembling all over from a sort of wild hysterical +sensation, in which there was an element of insufferable rapture. Yet he +was gloomy and terribly tired. His face was twisted as after a fit. +His fatigue increased rapidly. Any shock, any irritating sensation +stimulated and revived his energies at once, but his strength failed as +quickly when the stimulus was removed. + +Zametov, left alone, sat for a long time in the same place, plunged in +thought. Raskolnikov had unwittingly worked a revolution in his brain on +a certain point and had made up his mind for him conclusively. + +“Ilya Petrovitch is a blockhead,” he decided. + +Raskolnikov had hardly opened the door of the restaurant when he +stumbled against Razumihin on the steps. They did not see each other +till they almost knocked against each other. For a moment they stood +looking each other up and down. Razumihin was greatly astounded, then +anger, real anger gleamed fiercely in his eyes. + +“So here you are!” he shouted at the top of his voice--“you ran away +from your bed! And here I’ve been looking for you under the sofa! We +went up to the garret. I almost beat Nastasya on your account. And here +he is after all. Rodya! What is the meaning of it? Tell me the whole +truth! Confess! Do you hear?” + +“It means that I’m sick to death of you all and I want to be alone,” + Raskolnikov answered calmly. + +“Alone? When you are not able to walk, when your face is as white as a +sheet and you are gasping for breath! Idiot!... What have you been doing +in the Palais de Cristal? Own up at once!” + +“Let me go!” said Raskolnikov and tried to pass him. This was too much +for Razumihin; he gripped him firmly by the shoulder. + +“Let you go? You dare tell me to let you go? Do you know what I’ll do +with you directly? I’ll pick you up, tie you up in a bundle, carry you +home under my arm and lock you up!” + +“Listen, Razumihin,” Raskolnikov began quietly, apparently calm--“can’t +you see that I don’t want your benevolence? A strange desire you have to +shower benefits on a man who... curses them, who feels them a burden in +fact! Why did you seek me out at the beginning of my illness? Maybe I +was very glad to die. Didn’t I tell you plainly enough to-day that +you were torturing me, that I was... sick of you! You seem to want to +torture people! I assure you that all that is seriously hindering my +recovery, because it’s continually irritating me. You saw Zossimov +went away just now to avoid irritating me. You leave me alone too, for +goodness’ sake! What right have you, indeed, to keep me by force? Don’t +you see that I am in possession of all my faculties now? How, how can +I persuade you not to persecute me with your kindness? I may be +ungrateful, I may be mean, only let me be, for God’s sake, let me be! +Let me be, let me be!” + +He began calmly, gloating beforehand over the venomous phrases he was +about to utter, but finished, panting for breath, in a frenzy, as he had +been with Luzhin. + +Razumihin stood a moment, thought and let his hand drop. + +“Well, go to hell then,” he said gently and thoughtfully. “Stay,” he +roared, as Raskolnikov was about to move. “Listen to me. Let me tell +you, that you are all a set of babbling, posing idiots! If you’ve any +little trouble you brood over it like a hen over an egg. And you are +plagiarists even in that! There isn’t a sign of independent life in +you! You are made of spermaceti ointment and you’ve lymph in your veins +instead of blood. I don’t believe in anyone of you! In any circumstances +the first thing for all of you is to be unlike a human being! Stop!” he +cried with redoubled fury, noticing that Raskolnikov was again making +a movement--“hear me out! You know I’m having a house-warming this +evening, I dare say they’ve arrived by now, but I left my uncle there--I +just ran in--to receive the guests. And if you weren’t a fool, a common +fool, a perfect fool, if you were an original instead of a translation... +you see, Rodya, I recognise you’re a clever fellow, but you’re a +fool!--and if you weren’t a fool you’d come round to me this evening +instead of wearing out your boots in the street! Since you have gone +out, there’s no help for it! I’d give you a snug easy chair, my landlady +has one... a cup of tea, company.... Or you could lie on the sofa--any +way you would be with us.... Zossimov will be there too. Will you come?” + +“No.” + +“R-rubbish!” Razumihin shouted, out of patience. “How do you know? +You can’t answer for yourself! You don’t know anything about it.... +Thousands of times I’ve fought tooth and nail with people and run back +to them afterwards.... One feels ashamed and goes back to a man! So +remember, Potchinkov’s house on the third storey....” + +“Why, Mr. Razumihin, I do believe you’d let anybody beat you from sheer +benevolence.” + +“Beat? Whom? Me? I’d twist his nose off at the mere idea! Potchinkov’s +house, 47, Babushkin’s flat....” + +“I shall not come, Razumihin.” Raskolnikov turned and walked away. + +“I bet you will,” Razumihin shouted after him. “I refuse to know you if +you don’t! Stay, hey, is Zametov in there?” + +“Yes.” + +“Did you see him?” + +“Yes.” + +“Talked to him?” + +“Yes.” + +“What about? Confound you, don’t tell me then. Potchinkov’s house, 47, +Babushkin’s flat, remember!” + +Raskolnikov walked on and turned the corner into Sadovy Street. +Razumihin looked after him thoughtfully. Then with a wave of his hand he +went into the house but stopped short of the stairs. + +“Confound it,” he went on almost aloud. “He talked sensibly but yet... +I am a fool! As if madmen didn’t talk sensibly! And this was just what +Zossimov seemed afraid of.” He struck his finger on his forehead. “What +if... how could I let him go off alone? He may drown himself.... Ach, +what a blunder! I can’t.” And he ran back to overtake Raskolnikov, but +there was no trace of him. With a curse he returned with rapid steps to +the Palais de Cristal to question Zametov. + +Raskolnikov walked straight to X---- Bridge, stood in the middle, and +leaning both elbows on the rail stared into the distance. On parting +with Razumihin, he felt so much weaker that he could scarcely reach this +place. He longed to sit or lie down somewhere in the street. Bending +over the water, he gazed mechanically at the last pink flush of the +sunset, at the row of houses growing dark in the gathering twilight, at +one distant attic window on the left bank, flashing as though on fire in +the last rays of the setting sun, at the darkening water of the canal, +and the water seemed to catch his attention. At last red circles flashed +before his eyes, the houses seemed moving, the passers-by, the canal +banks, the carriages, all danced before his eyes. Suddenly he started, +saved again perhaps from swooning by an uncanny and hideous sight. He +became aware of someone standing on the right side of him; he looked +and saw a tall woman with a kerchief on her head, with a long, yellow, +wasted face and red sunken eyes. She was looking straight at him, but +obviously she saw nothing and recognised no one. Suddenly she leaned her +right hand on the parapet, lifted her right leg over the railing, then +her left and threw herself into the canal. The filthy water parted and +swallowed up its victim for a moment, but an instant later the drowning +woman floated to the surface, moving slowly with the current, her head +and legs in the water, her skirt inflated like a balloon over her back. + +“A woman drowning! A woman drowning!” shouted dozens of voices; people +ran up, both banks were thronged with spectators, on the bridge people +crowded about Raskolnikov, pressing up behind him. + +“Mercy on it! it’s our Afrosinya!” a woman cried tearfully close by. +“Mercy! save her! kind people, pull her out!” + +“A boat, a boat” was shouted in the crowd. But there was no need of a +boat; a policeman ran down the steps to the canal, threw off his great +coat and his boots and rushed into the water. It was easy to reach her: +she floated within a couple of yards from the steps, he caught hold of +her clothes with his right hand and with his left seized a pole which a +comrade held out to him; the drowning woman was pulled out at once. They +laid her on the granite pavement of the embankment. She soon recovered +consciousness, raised her head, sat up and began sneezing and coughing, +stupidly wiping her wet dress with her hands. She said nothing. + +“She’s drunk herself out of her senses,” the same woman’s voice wailed +at her side. “Out of her senses. The other day she tried to hang +herself, we cut her down. I ran out to the shop just now, left my little +girl to look after her--and here she’s in trouble again! A neighbour, +gentleman, a neighbour, we live close by, the second house from the end, +see yonder....” + +The crowd broke up. The police still remained round the woman, someone +mentioned the police station.... Raskolnikov looked on with a strange +sensation of indifference and apathy. He felt disgusted. “No, that’s +loathsome... water... it’s not good enough,” he muttered to himself. +“Nothing will come of it,” he added, “no use to wait. What about the +police office...? And why isn’t Zametov at the police office? The police +office is open till ten o’clock....” He turned his back to the railing +and looked about him. + +“Very well then!” he said resolutely; he moved from the bridge and +walked in the direction of the police office. His heart felt hollow and +empty. He did not want to think. Even his depression had passed, there +was not a trace now of the energy with which he had set out “to make an +end of it all.” Complete apathy had succeeded to it. + +“Well, it’s a way out of it,” he thought, walking slowly and listlessly +along the canal bank. “Anyway I’ll make an end, for I want to.... But +is it a way out? What does it matter! There’ll be the square yard of +space--ha! But what an end! Is it really the end? Shall I tell them or +not? Ah... damn! How tired I am! If I could find somewhere to sit or lie +down soon! What I am most ashamed of is its being so stupid. But I don’t +care about that either! What idiotic ideas come into one’s head.” + +To reach the police office he had to go straight forward and take the +second turning to the left. It was only a few paces away. But at the +first turning he stopped and, after a minute’s thought, turned into a +side street and went two streets out of his way, possibly without any +object, or possibly to delay a minute and gain time. He walked, looking +at the ground; suddenly someone seemed to whisper in his ear; he lifted +his head and saw that he was standing at the very gate of _the_ house. +He had not passed it, he had not been near it since _that_ evening. +An overwhelming, unaccountable prompting drew him on. He went into the +house, passed through the gateway, then into the first entrance on the +right, and began mounting the familiar staircase to the fourth storey. +The narrow, steep staircase was very dark. He stopped at each landing +and looked round him with curiosity; on the first landing the framework +of the window had been taken out. “That wasn’t so then,” he thought. +Here was the flat on the second storey where Nikolay and Dmitri had been +working. “It’s shut up and the door newly painted. So it’s to let.” Then +the third storey and the fourth. “Here!” He was perplexed to find the +door of the flat wide open. There were men there, he could hear voices; +he had not expected that. After brief hesitation he mounted the last +stairs and went into the flat. It, too, was being done up; there were +workmen in it. This seemed to amaze him; he somehow fancied that he +would find everything as he left it, even perhaps the corpses in the +same places on the floor. And now, bare walls, no furniture; it seemed +strange. He walked to the window and sat down on the window-sill. There +were two workmen, both young fellows, but one much younger than the +other. They were papering the walls with a new white paper covered with +lilac flowers, instead of the old, dirty, yellow one. Raskolnikov for +some reason felt horribly annoyed by this. He looked at the new paper +with dislike, as though he felt sorry to have it all so changed. +The workmen had obviously stayed beyond their time and now they were +hurriedly rolling up their paper and getting ready to go home. They took +no notice of Raskolnikov’s coming in; they were talking. Raskolnikov +folded his arms and listened. + +“She comes to me in the morning,” said the elder to the younger, “very +early, all dressed up. ‘Why are you preening and prinking?’ says I. ‘I +am ready to do anything to please you, Tit Vassilitch!’ That’s a way of +going on! And she dressed up like a regular fashion book!” + +“And what is a fashion book?” the younger one asked. He obviously +regarded the other as an authority. + +“A fashion book is a lot of pictures, coloured, and they come to the +tailors here every Saturday, by post from abroad, to show folks how +to dress, the male sex as well as the female. They’re pictures. The +gentlemen are generally wearing fur coats and for the ladies’ fluffles, +they’re beyond anything you can fancy.” + +“There’s nothing you can’t find in Petersburg,” the younger cried +enthusiastically, “except father and mother, there’s everything!” + +“Except them, there’s everything to be found, my boy,” the elder +declared sententiously. + +Raskolnikov got up and walked into the other room where the strong box, +the bed, and the chest of drawers had been; the room seemed to him very +tiny without furniture in it. The paper was the same; the paper in the +corner showed where the case of ikons had stood. He looked at it and +went to the window. The elder workman looked at him askance. + +“What do you want?” he asked suddenly. + +Instead of answering Raskolnikov went into the passage and pulled the +bell. The same bell, the same cracked note. He rang it a second and +a third time; he listened and remembered. The hideous and agonisingly +fearful sensation he had felt then began to come back more and more +vividly. He shuddered at every ring and it gave him more and more +satisfaction. + +“Well, what do you want? Who are you?” the workman shouted, going out to +him. Raskolnikov went inside again. + +“I want to take a flat,” he said. “I am looking round.” + +“It’s not the time to look at rooms at night! and you ought to come up +with the porter.” + +“The floors have been washed, will they be painted?” Raskolnikov went +on. “Is there no blood?” + +“What blood?” + +“Why, the old woman and her sister were murdered here. There was a +perfect pool there.” + +“But who are you?” the workman cried, uneasy. + +“Who am I?” + +“Yes.” + +“You want to know? Come to the police station, I’ll tell you.” + +The workmen looked at him in amazement. + +“It’s time for us to go, we are late. Come along, Alyoshka. We must lock +up,” said the elder workman. + +“Very well, come along,” said Raskolnikov indifferently, and going +out first, he went slowly downstairs. “Hey, porter,” he cried in the +gateway. + +At the entrance several people were standing, staring at the passers-by; +the two porters, a peasant woman, a man in a long coat and a few others. +Raskolnikov went straight up to them. + +“What do you want?” asked one of the porters. + +“Have you been to the police office?” + +“I’ve just been there. What do you want?” + +“Is it open?” + +“Of course.” + +“Is the assistant there?” + +“He was there for a time. What do you want?” + +Raskolnikov made no reply, but stood beside them lost in thought. + +“He’s been to look at the flat,” said the elder workman, coming forward. + +“Which flat?” + +“Where we are at work. ‘Why have you washed away the blood?’ says he. +‘There has been a murder here,’ says he, ‘and I’ve come to take it.’ +And he began ringing at the bell, all but broke it. ‘Come to the police +station,’ says he. ‘I’ll tell you everything there.’ He wouldn’t leave +us.” + +The porter looked at Raskolnikov, frowning and perplexed. + +“Who are you?” he shouted as impressively as he could. + +“I am Rodion Romanovitch Raskolnikov, formerly a student, I live in +Shil’s house, not far from here, flat Number 14, ask the porter, he +knows me.” Raskolnikov said all this in a lazy, dreamy voice, not +turning round, but looking intently into the darkening street. + +“Why have you been to the flat?” + +“To look at it.” + +“What is there to look at?” + +“Take him straight to the police station,” the man in the long coat +jerked in abruptly. + +Raskolnikov looked intently at him over his shoulder and said in the +same slow, lazy tones: + +“Come along.” + +“Yes, take him,” the man went on more confidently. “Why was he going +into _that_, what’s in his mind, eh?” + +“He’s not drunk, but God knows what’s the matter with him,” muttered the +workman. + +“But what do you want?” the porter shouted again, beginning to get angry +in earnest--“Why are you hanging about?” + +“You funk the police station then?” said Raskolnikov jeeringly. + +“How funk it? Why are you hanging about?” + +“He’s a rogue!” shouted the peasant woman. + +“Why waste time talking to him?” cried the other porter, a huge peasant +in a full open coat and with keys on his belt. “Get along! He is a rogue +and no mistake. Get along!” + +And seizing Raskolnikov by the shoulder he flung him into the street. He +lurched forward, but recovered his footing, looked at the spectators in +silence and walked away. + +“Strange man!” observed the workman. + +“There are strange folks about nowadays,” said the woman. + +“You should have taken him to the police station all the same,” said the +man in the long coat. + +“Better have nothing to do with him,” decided the big porter. “A regular +rogue! Just what he wants, you may be sure, but once take him up, you +won’t get rid of him.... We know the sort!” + +“Shall I go there or not?” thought Raskolnikov, standing in the middle +of the thoroughfare at the cross-roads, and he looked about him, as +though expecting from someone a decisive word. But no sound came, all +was dead and silent like the stones on which he walked, dead to him, to +him alone.... All at once at the end of the street, two hundred yards +away, in the gathering dusk he saw a crowd and heard talk and shouts. +In the middle of the crowd stood a carriage.... A light gleamed in the +middle of the street. “What is it?” Raskolnikov turned to the right +and went up to the crowd. He seemed to clutch at everything and smiled +coldly when he recognised it, for he had fully made up his mind to go to +the police station and knew that it would all soon be over. + + + +CHAPTER VII + +An elegant carriage stood in the middle of the road with a pair of +spirited grey horses; there was no one in it, and the coachman had got +off his box and stood by; the horses were being held by the bridle.... +A mass of people had gathered round, the police standing in front. One +of them held a lighted lantern which he was turning on something lying +close to the wheels. Everyone was talking, shouting, exclaiming; the +coachman seemed at a loss and kept repeating: + +“What a misfortune! Good Lord, what a misfortune!” + +Raskolnikov pushed his way in as far as he could, and succeeded at last +in seeing the object of the commotion and interest. On the ground a +man who had been run over lay apparently unconscious, and covered with +blood; he was very badly dressed, but not like a workman. Blood was +flowing from his head and face; his face was crushed, mutilated and +disfigured. He was evidently badly injured. + +“Merciful heaven!” wailed the coachman, “what more could I do? If I’d +been driving fast or had not shouted to him, but I was going quietly, +not in a hurry. Everyone could see I was going along just like everybody +else. A drunken man can’t walk straight, we all know.... I saw him +crossing the street, staggering and almost falling. I shouted again +and a second and a third time, then I held the horses in, but he fell +straight under their feet! Either he did it on purpose or he was very +tipsy.... The horses are young and ready to take fright... they started, +he screamed... that made them worse. That’s how it happened!” + +“That’s just how it was,” a voice in the crowd confirmed. + +“He shouted, that’s true, he shouted three times,” another voice +declared. + +“Three times it was, we all heard it,” shouted a third. + +But the coachman was not very much distressed and frightened. It was +evident that the carriage belonged to a rich and important person who +was awaiting it somewhere; the police, of course, were in no little +anxiety to avoid upsetting his arrangements. All they had to do was to +take the injured man to the police station and the hospital. No one knew +his name. + +Meanwhile Raskolnikov had squeezed in and stooped closer over him. The +lantern suddenly lighted up the unfortunate man’s face. He recognised +him. + +“I know him! I know him!” he shouted, pushing to the front. “It’s a +government clerk retired from the service, Marmeladov. He lives close +by in Kozel’s house.... Make haste for a doctor! I will pay, see?” He +pulled money out of his pocket and showed it to the policeman. He was in +violent agitation. + +The police were glad that they had found out who the man was. +Raskolnikov gave his own name and address, and, as earnestly as if it +had been his father, he besought the police to carry the unconscious +Marmeladov to his lodging at once. + +“Just here, three houses away,” he said eagerly, “the house belongs to +Kozel, a rich German. He was going home, no doubt drunk. I know him, +he is a drunkard. He has a family there, a wife, children, he has one +daughter.... It will take time to take him to the hospital, and there is +sure to be a doctor in the house. I’ll pay, I’ll pay! At least he will +be looked after at home... they will help him at once. But he’ll die +before you get him to the hospital.” He managed to slip something +unseen into the policeman’s hand. But the thing was straightforward +and legitimate, and in any case help was closer here. They raised the +injured man; people volunteered to help. + +Kozel’s house was thirty yards away. Raskolnikov walked behind, +carefully holding Marmeladov’s head and showing the way. + +“This way, this way! We must take him upstairs head foremost. Turn +round! I’ll pay, I’ll make it worth your while,” he muttered. + +Katerina Ivanovna had just begun, as she always did at every free +moment, walking to and fro in her little room from window to stove and +back again, with her arms folded across her chest, talking to herself +and coughing. Of late she had begun to talk more than ever to her eldest +girl, Polenka, a child of ten, who, though there was much she did not +understand, understood very well that her mother needed her, and so +always watched her with her big clever eyes and strove her utmost +to appear to understand. This time Polenka was undressing her little +brother, who had been unwell all day and was going to bed. The boy was +waiting for her to take off his shirt, which had to be washed at night. +He was sitting straight and motionless on a chair, with a silent, +serious face, with his legs stretched out straight before him--heels +together and toes turned out. + +He was listening to what his mother was saying to his sister, sitting +perfectly still with pouting lips and wide-open eyes, just as all good +little boys have to sit when they are undressed to go to bed. A little +girl, still younger, dressed literally in rags, stood at the screen, +waiting for her turn. The door on to the stairs was open to relieve +them a little from the clouds of tobacco smoke which floated in from the +other rooms and brought on long terrible fits of coughing in the poor, +consumptive woman. Katerina Ivanovna seemed to have grown even thinner +during that week and the hectic flush on her face was brighter than +ever. + +“You wouldn’t believe, you can’t imagine, Polenka,” she said, walking +about the room, “what a happy luxurious life we had in my papa’s house +and how this drunkard has brought me, and will bring you all, to ruin! +Papa was a civil colonel and only a step from being a governor; so that +everyone who came to see him said, ‘We look upon you, Ivan Mihailovitch, +as our governor!’ When I... when...” she coughed violently, “oh, cursed +life,” she cried, clearing her throat and pressing her hands to her +breast, “when I... when at the last ball... at the marshal’s... +Princess Bezzemelny saw me--who gave me the blessing when your father +and I were married, Polenka--she asked at once ‘Isn’t that the pretty +girl who danced the shawl dance at the breaking-up?’ (You must mend +that tear, you must take your needle and darn it as I showed you, or +to-morrow--cough, cough, cough--he will make the hole bigger,” she +articulated with effort.) “Prince Schegolskoy, a kammerjunker, had just +come from Petersburg then... he danced the mazurka with me and wanted to +make me an offer next day; but I thanked him in flattering expressions +and told him that my heart had long been another’s. That other was your +father, Polya; papa was fearfully angry.... Is the water ready? Give me +the shirt, and the stockings! Lida,” said she to the youngest one, “you +must manage without your chemise to-night... and lay your stockings out +with it... I’ll wash them together.... How is it that drunken vagabond +doesn’t come in? He has worn his shirt till it looks like a dish-clout, +he has torn it to rags! I’d do it all together, so as not to have to +work two nights running! Oh, dear! (Cough, cough, cough, cough!) Again! +What’s this?” she cried, noticing a crowd in the passage and the men, +who were pushing into her room, carrying a burden. “What is it? What are +they bringing? Mercy on us!” + +“Where are we to put him?” asked the policeman, looking round when +Marmeladov, unconscious and covered with blood, had been carried in. + +“On the sofa! Put him straight on the sofa, with his head this way,” + Raskolnikov showed him. + +“Run over in the road! Drunk!” someone shouted in the passage. + +Katerina Ivanovna stood, turning white and gasping for breath. The +children were terrified. Little Lida screamed, rushed to Polenka and +clutched at her, trembling all over. + +Having laid Marmeladov down, Raskolnikov flew to Katerina Ivanovna. + +“For God’s sake be calm, don’t be frightened!” he said, speaking +quickly, “he was crossing the road and was run over by a carriage, don’t +be frightened, he will come to, I told them bring him here... I’ve been +here already, you remember? He will come to; I’ll pay!” + +“He’s done it this time!” Katerina Ivanovna cried despairingly and she +rushed to her husband. + +Raskolnikov noticed at once that she was not one of those women who +swoon easily. She instantly placed under the luckless man’s head a +pillow, which no one had thought of and began undressing and examining +him. She kept her head, forgetting herself, biting her trembling lips +and stifling the screams which were ready to break from her. + +Raskolnikov meanwhile induced someone to run for a doctor. There was a +doctor, it appeared, next door but one. + +“I’ve sent for a doctor,” he kept assuring Katerina Ivanovna, “don’t be +uneasy, I’ll pay. Haven’t you water?... and give me a napkin or a towel, +anything, as quick as you can.... He is injured, but not killed, believe +me.... We shall see what the doctor says!” + +Katerina Ivanovna ran to the window; there, on a broken chair in the +corner, a large earthenware basin full of water had been stood, in +readiness for washing her children’s and husband’s linen that night. +This washing was done by Katerina Ivanovna at night at least twice a +week, if not oftener. For the family had come to such a pass that they +were practically without change of linen, and Katerina Ivanovna could +not endure uncleanliness and, rather than see dirt in the house, she +preferred to wear herself out at night, working beyond her strength when +the rest were asleep, so as to get the wet linen hung on a line and dry +by the morning. She took up the basin of water at Raskolnikov’s request, +but almost fell down with her burden. But the latter had already +succeeded in finding a towel, wetted it and began washing the blood off +Marmeladov’s face. + +Katerina Ivanovna stood by, breathing painfully and pressing her hands +to her breast. She was in need of attention herself. Raskolnikov began +to realise that he might have made a mistake in having the injured man +brought here. The policeman, too, stood in hesitation. + +“Polenka,” cried Katerina Ivanovna, “run to Sonia, make haste. If you +don’t find her at home, leave word that her father has been run over +and that she is to come here at once... when she comes in. Run, Polenka! +there, put on the shawl.” + +“Run your fastest!” cried the little boy on the chair suddenly, after +which he relapsed into the same dumb rigidity, with round eyes, his +heels thrust forward and his toes spread out. + +Meanwhile the room had become so full of people that you couldn’t have +dropped a pin. The policemen left, all except one, who remained for a +time, trying to drive out the people who came in from the stairs. Almost +all Madame Lippevechsel’s lodgers had streamed in from the inner rooms +of the flat; at first they were squeezed together in the doorway, but +afterwards they overflowed into the room. Katerina Ivanovna flew into a +fury. + +“You might let him die in peace, at least,” she shouted at the crowd, +“is it a spectacle for you to gape at? With cigarettes! (Cough, cough, +cough!) You might as well keep your hats on.... And there is one in his +hat!... Get away! You should respect the dead, at least!” + +Her cough choked her--but her reproaches were not without result. They +evidently stood in some awe of Katerina Ivanovna. The lodgers, one after +another, squeezed back into the doorway with that strange inner feeling +of satisfaction which may be observed in the presence of a sudden +accident, even in those nearest and dearest to the victim, from which +no living man is exempt, even in spite of the sincerest sympathy and +compassion. + +Voices outside were heard, however, speaking of the hospital and saying +that they’d no business to make a disturbance here. + +“No business to die!” cried Katerina Ivanovna, and she was rushing to +the door to vent her wrath upon them, but in the doorway came face to +face with Madame Lippevechsel who had only just heard of the accident +and ran in to restore order. She was a particularly quarrelsome and +irresponsible German. + +“Ah, my God!” she cried, clasping her hands, “your husband drunken +horses have trampled! To the hospital with him! I am the landlady!” + +“Amalia Ludwigovna, I beg you to recollect what you are saying,” + Katerina Ivanovna began haughtily (she always took a haughty tone with +the landlady that she might “remember her place” and even now could not +deny herself this satisfaction). “Amalia Ludwigovna...” + +“I have you once before told that you to call me Amalia Ludwigovna may +not dare; I am Amalia Ivanovna.” + +“You are not Amalia Ivanovna, but Amalia Ludwigovna, and as I am not +one of your despicable flatterers like Mr. Lebeziatnikov, who’s laughing +behind the door at this moment (a laugh and a cry of ‘they are at it +again’ was in fact audible at the door) so I shall always call you +Amalia Ludwigovna, though I fail to understand why you dislike that +name. You can see for yourself what has happened to Semyon Zaharovitch; +he is dying. I beg you to close that door at once and to admit no one. +Let him at least die in peace! Or I warn you the Governor-General, +himself, shall be informed of your conduct to-morrow. The prince knew +me as a girl; he remembers Semyon Zaharovitch well and has often been +a benefactor to him. Everyone knows that Semyon Zaharovitch had many +friends and protectors, whom he abandoned himself from an honourable +pride, knowing his unhappy weakness, but now (she pointed to +Raskolnikov) a generous young man has come to our assistance, who has +wealth and connections and whom Semyon Zaharovitch has known from a +child. You may rest assured, Amalia Ludwigovna...” + +All this was uttered with extreme rapidity, getting quicker and quicker, +but a cough suddenly cut short Katerina Ivanovna’s eloquence. At that +instant the dying man recovered consciousness and uttered a groan; she +ran to him. The injured man opened his eyes and without recognition or +understanding gazed at Raskolnikov who was bending over him. He drew +deep, slow, painful breaths; blood oozed at the corners of his mouth +and drops of perspiration came out on his forehead. Not recognising +Raskolnikov, he began looking round uneasily. Katerina Ivanovna looked +at him with a sad but stern face, and tears trickled from her eyes. + +“My God! His whole chest is crushed! How he is bleeding,” she said +in despair. “We must take off his clothes. Turn a little, Semyon +Zaharovitch, if you can,” she cried to him. + +Marmeladov recognised her. + +“A priest,” he articulated huskily. + +Katerina Ivanovna walked to the window, laid her head against the window +frame and exclaimed in despair: + +“Oh, cursed life!” + +“A priest,” the dying man said again after a moment’s silence. + +“They’ve gone for him,” Katerina Ivanovna shouted to him, he obeyed her +shout and was silent. With sad and timid eyes he looked for her; she +returned and stood by his pillow. He seemed a little easier but not for +long. + +Soon his eyes rested on little Lida, his favourite, who was shaking in +the corner, as though she were in a fit, and staring at him with her +wondering childish eyes. + +“A-ah,” he signed towards her uneasily. He wanted to say something. + +“What now?” cried Katerina Ivanovna. + +“Barefoot, barefoot!” he muttered, indicating with frenzied eyes the +child’s bare feet. + +“Be silent,” Katerina Ivanovna cried irritably, “you know why she is +barefooted.” + +“Thank God, the doctor,” exclaimed Raskolnikov, relieved. + +The doctor came in, a precise little old man, a German, looking about +him mistrustfully; he went up to the sick man, took his pulse, carefully +felt his head and with the help of Katerina Ivanovna he unbuttoned the +blood-stained shirt, and bared the injured man’s chest. It was gashed, +crushed and fractured, several ribs on the right side were broken. +On the left side, just over the heart, was a large, sinister-looking +yellowish-black bruise--a cruel kick from the horse’s hoof. The doctor +frowned. The policeman told him that he was caught in the wheel and +turned round with it for thirty yards on the road. + +“It’s wonderful that he has recovered consciousness,” the doctor +whispered softly to Raskolnikov. + +“What do you think of him?” he asked. + +“He will die immediately.” + +“Is there really no hope?” + +“Not the faintest! He is at the last gasp.... His head is badly injured, +too... Hm... I could bleed him if you like, but... it would be useless. +He is bound to die within the next five or ten minutes.” + +“Better bleed him then.” + +“If you like.... But I warn you it will be perfectly useless.” + +At that moment other steps were heard; the crowd in the passage parted, +and the priest, a little, grey old man, appeared in the doorway bearing +the sacrament. A policeman had gone for him at the time of the accident. +The doctor changed places with him, exchanging glances with him. +Raskolnikov begged the doctor to remain a little while. He shrugged his +shoulders and remained. + +All stepped back. The confession was soon over. The dying man probably +understood little; he could only utter indistinct broken sounds. +Katerina Ivanovna took little Lida, lifted the boy from the chair, knelt +down in the corner by the stove and made the children kneel in front of +her. The little girl was still trembling; but the boy, kneeling on his +little bare knees, lifted his hand rhythmically, crossing himself with +precision and bowed down, touching the floor with his forehead, which +seemed to afford him especial satisfaction. Katerina Ivanovna bit her +lips and held back her tears; she prayed, too, now and then pulling +straight the boy’s shirt, and managed to cover the girl’s bare shoulders +with a kerchief, which she took from the chest without rising from her +knees or ceasing to pray. Meanwhile the door from the inner rooms was +opened inquisitively again. In the passage the crowd of spectators from +all the flats on the staircase grew denser and denser, but they did not +venture beyond the threshold. A single candle-end lighted up the scene. + +At that moment Polenka forced her way through the crowd at the door. She +came in panting from running so fast, took off her kerchief, looked for +her mother, went up to her and said, “She’s coming, I met her in the +street.” Her mother made her kneel beside her. + +Timidly and noiselessly a young girl made her way through the crowd, +and strange was her appearance in that room, in the midst of want, rags, +death and despair. She, too, was in rags, her attire was all of +the cheapest, but decked out in gutter finery of a special stamp, +unmistakably betraying its shameful purpose. Sonia stopped short in the +doorway and looked about her bewildered, unconscious of everything. +She forgot her fourth-hand, gaudy silk dress, so unseemly here with +its ridiculous long train, and her immense crinoline that filled up the +whole doorway, and her light-coloured shoes, and the parasol she brought +with her, though it was no use at night, and the absurd round straw hat +with its flaring flame-coloured feather. Under this rakishly-tilted hat +was a pale, frightened little face with lips parted and eyes staring in +terror. Sonia was a small thin girl of eighteen with fair hair, rather +pretty, with wonderful blue eyes. She looked intently at the bed and the +priest; she too was out of breath with running. At last whispers, some +words in the crowd probably, reached her. She looked down and took a +step forward into the room, still keeping close to the door. + +The service was over. Katerina Ivanovna went up to her husband again. +The priest stepped back and turned to say a few words of admonition and +consolation to Katerina Ivanovna on leaving. + +“What am I to do with these?” she interrupted sharply and irritably, +pointing to the little ones. + +“God is merciful; look to the Most High for succour,” the priest began. + +“Ach! He is merciful, but not to us.” + +“That’s a sin, a sin, madam,” observed the priest, shaking his head. + +“And isn’t that a sin?” cried Katerina Ivanovna, pointing to the dying +man. + +“Perhaps those who have involuntarily caused the accident will agree to +compensate you, at least for the loss of his earnings.” + +“You don’t understand!” cried Katerina Ivanovna angrily waving her hand. +“And why should they compensate me? Why, he was drunk and threw himself +under the horses! What earnings? He brought us in nothing but misery. +He drank everything away, the drunkard! He robbed us to get drink, he +wasted their lives and mine for drink! And thank God he’s dying! One +less to keep!” + +“You must forgive in the hour of death, that’s a sin, madam, such +feelings are a great sin.” + +Katerina Ivanovna was busy with the dying man; she was giving him water, +wiping the blood and sweat from his head, setting his pillow straight, +and had only turned now and then for a moment to address the priest. Now +she flew at him almost in a frenzy. + +“Ah, father! That’s words and only words! Forgive! If he’d not been run +over, he’d have come home to-day drunk and his only shirt dirty and +in rags and he’d have fallen asleep like a log, and I should have been +sousing and rinsing till daybreak, washing his rags and the children’s +and then drying them by the window and as soon as it was daylight I +should have been darning them. That’s how I spend my nights!... What’s +the use of talking of forgiveness! I have forgiven as it is!” + +A terrible hollow cough interrupted her words. She put her handkerchief +to her lips and showed it to the priest, pressing her other hand to her +aching chest. The handkerchief was covered with blood. The priest bowed +his head and said nothing. + +Marmeladov was in the last agony; he did not take his eyes off the face +of Katerina Ivanovna, who was bending over him again. He kept trying +to say something to her; he began moving his tongue with difficulty and +articulating indistinctly, but Katerina Ivanovna, understanding that he +wanted to ask her forgiveness, called peremptorily to him: + +“Be silent! No need! I know what you want to say!” And the sick man +was silent, but at the same instant his wandering eyes strayed to the +doorway and he saw Sonia. + +Till then he had not noticed her: she was standing in the shadow in a +corner. + +“Who’s that? Who’s that?” he said suddenly in a thick gasping voice, +in agitation, turning his eyes in horror towards the door where his +daughter was standing, and trying to sit up. + +“Lie down! Lie do-own!” cried Katerina Ivanovna. + +With unnatural strength he had succeeded in propping himself on his +elbow. He looked wildly and fixedly for some time on his daughter, as +though not recognising her. He had never seen her before in such attire. +Suddenly he recognised her, crushed and ashamed in her humiliation and +gaudy finery, meekly awaiting her turn to say good-bye to her dying +father. His face showed intense suffering. + +“Sonia! Daughter! Forgive!” he cried, and he tried to hold out his hand +to her, but losing his balance, he fell off the sofa, face downwards on +the floor. They rushed to pick him up, they put him on the sofa; but he +was dying. Sonia with a faint cry ran up, embraced him and remained so +without moving. He died in her arms. + +“He’s got what he wanted,” Katerina Ivanovna cried, seeing her husband’s +dead body. “Well, what’s to be done now? How am I to bury him! What can +I give them to-morrow to eat?” + +Raskolnikov went up to Katerina Ivanovna. + +“Katerina Ivanovna,” he began, “last week your husband told me all his +life and circumstances.... Believe me, he spoke of you with passionate +reverence. From that evening, when I learnt how devoted he was to you +all and how he loved and respected you especially, Katerina Ivanovna, +in spite of his unfortunate weakness, from that evening we became +friends.... Allow me now... to do something... to repay my debt to my +dead friend. Here are twenty roubles, I think--and if that can be of any +assistance to you, then... I... in short, I will come again, I will +be sure to come again... I shall, perhaps, come again to-morrow.... +Good-bye!” + +And he went quickly out of the room, squeezing his way through the crowd +to the stairs. But in the crowd he suddenly jostled against Nikodim +Fomitch, who had heard of the accident and had come to give instructions +in person. They had not met since the scene at the police station, but +Nikodim Fomitch knew him instantly. + +“Ah, is that you?” he asked him. + +“He’s dead,” answered Raskolnikov. “The doctor and the priest have been, +all as it should have been. Don’t worry the poor woman too much, she is +in consumption as it is. Try and cheer her up, if possible... you are a +kind-hearted man, I know...” he added with a smile, looking straight in +his face. + +“But you are spattered with blood,” observed Nikodim Fomitch, noticing +in the lamplight some fresh stains on Raskolnikov’s waistcoat. + +“Yes... I’m covered with blood,” Raskolnikov said with a peculiar air; +then he smiled, nodded and went downstairs. + +He walked down slowly and deliberately, feverish but not conscious +of it, entirely absorbed in a new overwhelming sensation of life and +strength that surged up suddenly within him. This sensation might be +compared to that of a man condemned to death who has suddenly been +pardoned. Halfway down the staircase he was overtaken by the priest on +his way home; Raskolnikov let him pass, exchanging a silent greeting +with him. He was just descending the last steps when he heard rapid +footsteps behind him. Someone overtook him; it was Polenka. She was +running after him, calling “Wait! wait!” + +He turned round. She was at the bottom of the staircase and stopped +short a step above him. A dim light came in from the yard. Raskolnikov +could distinguish the child’s thin but pretty little face, looking at +him with a bright childish smile. She had run after him with a message +which she was evidently glad to give. + +“Tell me, what is your name?... and where do you live?” she said +hurriedly in a breathless voice. + +He laid both hands on her shoulders and looked at her with a sort of +rapture. It was such a joy to him to look at her, he could not have said +why. + +“Who sent you?” + +“Sister Sonia sent me,” answered the girl, smiling still more brightly. + +“I knew it was sister Sonia sent you.” + +“Mamma sent me, too... when sister Sonia was sending me, mamma came up, +too, and said ‘Run fast, Polenka.’” + +“Do you love sister Sonia?” + +“I love her more than anyone,” Polenka answered with a peculiar +earnestness, and her smile became graver. + +“And will you love me?” + +By way of answer he saw the little girl’s face approaching him, her full +lips naïvely held out to kiss him. Suddenly her arms as thin as sticks +held him tightly, her head rested on his shoulder and the little girl +wept softly, pressing her face against him. + +“I am sorry for father,” she said a moment later, raising her +tear-stained face and brushing away the tears with her hands. “It’s +nothing but misfortunes now,” she added suddenly with that peculiarly +sedate air which children try hard to assume when they want to speak +like grown-up people. + +“Did your father love you?” + +“He loved Lida most,” she went on very seriously without a smile, +exactly like grown-up people, “he loved her because she is little and +because she is ill, too. And he always used to bring her presents. But +he taught us to read and me grammar and scripture, too,” she added with +dignity. “And mother never used to say anything, but we knew that she +liked it and father knew it, too. And mother wants to teach me French, +for it’s time my education began.” + +“And do you know your prayers?” + +“Of course, we do! We knew them long ago. I say my prayers to myself +as I am a big girl now, but Kolya and Lida say them aloud with mother. +First they repeat the ‘Ave Maria’ and then another prayer: ‘Lord, +forgive and bless sister Sonia,’ and then another, ‘Lord, forgive and +bless our second father.’ For our elder father is dead and this is +another one, but we do pray for the other as well.” + +“Polenka, my name is Rodion. Pray sometimes for me, too. ‘And Thy +servant Rodion,’ nothing more.” + +“I’ll pray for you all the rest of my life,” the little girl declared +hotly, and suddenly smiling again she rushed at him and hugged him +warmly once more. + +Raskolnikov told her his name and address and promised to be sure to +come next day. The child went away quite enchanted with him. It was past +ten when he came out into the street. In five minutes he was standing on +the bridge at the spot where the woman had jumped in. + +“Enough,” he pronounced resolutely and triumphantly. “I’ve done with +fancies, imaginary terrors and phantoms! Life is real! haven’t I lived +just now? My life has not yet died with that old woman! The Kingdom of +Heaven to her--and now enough, madam, leave me in peace! Now for the +reign of reason and light... and of will, and of strength... and now +we will see! We will try our strength!” he added defiantly, as though +challenging some power of darkness. “And I was ready to consent to live +in a square of space! + +“I am very weak at this moment, but... I believe my illness is all over. +I knew it would be over when I went out. By the way, Potchinkov’s house +is only a few steps away. I certainly must go to Razumihin even if +it were not close by... let him win his bet! Let us give him some +satisfaction, too--no matter! Strength, strength is what one wants, you +can get nothing without it, and strength must be won by strength--that’s +what they don’t know,” he added proudly and self-confidently and +he walked with flagging footsteps from the bridge. Pride and +self-confidence grew continually stronger in him; he was becoming +a different man every moment. What was it had happened to work this +revolution in him? He did not know himself; like a man catching at a +straw, he suddenly felt that he, too, ‘could live, that there was still +life for him, that his life had not died with the old woman.’ Perhaps he +was in too great a hurry with his conclusions, but he did not think of +that. + +“But I did ask her to remember ‘Thy servant Rodion’ in her prayers,” the +idea struck him. “Well, that was... in case of emergency,” he added and +laughed himself at his boyish sally. He was in the best of spirits. + +He easily found Razumihin; the new lodger was already known at +Potchinkov’s and the porter at once showed him the way. Half-way +upstairs he could hear the noise and animated conversation of a big +gathering of people. The door was wide open on the stairs; he could +hear exclamations and discussion. Razumihin’s room was fairly large; the +company consisted of fifteen people. Raskolnikov stopped in the entry, +where two of the landlady’s servants were busy behind a screen with two +samovars, bottles, plates and dishes of pie and savouries, brought up +from the landlady’s kitchen. Raskolnikov sent in for Razumihin. He ran +out delighted. At the first glance it was apparent that he had had a +great deal to drink and, though no amount of liquor made Razumihin quite +drunk, this time he was perceptibly affected by it. + +“Listen,” Raskolnikov hastened to say, “I’ve only just come to tell you +you’ve won your bet and that no one really knows what may not happen to +him. I can’t come in; I am so weak that I shall fall down directly. And +so good evening and good-bye! Come and see me to-morrow.” + +“Do you know what? I’ll see you home. If you say you’re weak yourself, +you must...” + +“And your visitors? Who is the curly-headed one who has just peeped +out?” + +“He? Goodness only knows! Some friend of uncle’s, I expect, or perhaps +he has come without being invited... I’ll leave uncle with them, he +is an invaluable person, pity I can’t introduce you to him now. But +confound them all now! They won’t notice me, and I need a little fresh +air, for you’ve come just in the nick of time--another two minutes and I +should have come to blows! They are talking such a lot of wild stuff... +you simply can’t imagine what men will say! Though why shouldn’t you +imagine? Don’t we talk nonsense ourselves? And let them... that’s the +way to learn not to!... Wait a minute, I’ll fetch Zossimov.” + +Zossimov pounced upon Raskolnikov almost greedily; he showed a special +interest in him; soon his face brightened. + +“You must go to bed at once,” he pronounced, examining the patient as +far as he could, “and take something for the night. Will you take it? I +got it ready some time ago... a powder.” + +“Two, if you like,” answered Raskolnikov. The powder was taken at once. + +“It’s a good thing you are taking him home,” observed Zossimov to +Razumihin--“we shall see how he is to-morrow, to-day he’s not at all +amiss--a considerable change since the afternoon. Live and learn...” + +“Do you know what Zossimov whispered to me when we were coming out?” + Razumihin blurted out, as soon as they were in the street. “I won’t tell +you everything, brother, because they are such fools. Zossimov told me +to talk freely to you on the way and get you to talk freely to me, and +afterwards I am to tell him about it, for he’s got a notion in his head +that you are... mad or close on it. Only fancy! In the first place, +you’ve three times the brains he has; in the second, if you are not mad, +you needn’t care a hang that he has got such a wild idea; and thirdly, +that piece of beef whose specialty is surgery has gone mad on mental +diseases, and what’s brought him to this conclusion about you was your +conversation to-day with Zametov.” + +“Zametov told you all about it?” + +“Yes, and he did well. Now I understand what it all means and so does +Zametov.... Well, the fact is, Rodya... the point is... I am a little +drunk now.... But that’s... no matter... the point is that this +idea... you understand? was just being hatched in their brains... you +understand? That is, no one ventured to say it aloud, because the idea +is too absurd and especially since the arrest of that painter, that +bubble’s burst and gone for ever. But why are they such fools? I gave +Zametov a bit of a thrashing at the time--that’s between ourselves, +brother; please don’t let out a hint that you know of it; I’ve noticed +he is a ticklish subject; it was at Luise Ivanovna’s. But to-day, to-day +it’s all cleared up. That Ilya Petrovitch is at the bottom of it! He +took advantage of your fainting at the police station, but he is ashamed +of it himself now; I know that...” + +Raskolnikov listened greedily. Razumihin was drunk enough to talk too +freely. + +“I fainted then because it was so close and the smell of paint,” said +Raskolnikov. + +“No need to explain that! And it wasn’t the paint only: the fever had +been coming on for a month; Zossimov testifies to that! But how crushed +that boy is now, you wouldn’t believe! ‘I am not worth his little +finger,’ he says. Yours, he means. He has good feelings at times, +brother. But the lesson, the lesson you gave him to-day in the Palais +de Cristal, that was too good for anything! You frightened him at first, +you know, he nearly went into convulsions! You almost convinced +him again of the truth of all that hideous nonsense, and then you +suddenly--put out your tongue at him: ‘There now, what do you make of +it?’ It was perfect! He is crushed, annihilated now! It was masterly, by +Jove, it’s what they deserve! Ah, that I wasn’t there! He was hoping to +see you awfully. Porfiry, too, wants to make your acquaintance...” + +“Ah!... he too... but why did they put me down as mad?” + +“Oh, not mad. I must have said too much, brother.... What struck him, +you see, was that only that subject seemed to interest you; now it’s +clear why it did interest you; knowing all the circumstances... and +how that irritated you and worked in with your illness... I am a little +drunk, brother, only, confound him, he has some idea of his own... I +tell you, he’s mad on mental diseases. But don’t you mind him...” + +For half a minute both were silent. + +“Listen, Razumihin,” began Raskolnikov, “I want to tell you plainly: +I’ve just been at a death-bed, a clerk who died... I gave them all my +money... and besides I’ve just been kissed by someone who, if I had +killed anyone, would just the same... in fact I saw someone else +there... with a flame-coloured feather... but I am talking nonsense; I +am very weak, support me... we shall be at the stairs directly...” + +“What’s the matter? What’s the matter with you?” Razumihin asked +anxiously. + +“I am a little giddy, but that’s not the point, I am so sad, so sad... +like a woman. Look, what’s that? Look, look!” + +“What is it?” + +“Don’t you see? A light in my room, you see? Through the crack...” + +They were already at the foot of the last flight of stairs, at the level +of the landlady’s door, and they could, as a fact, see from below that +there was a light in Raskolnikov’s garret. + +“Queer! Nastasya, perhaps,” observed Razumihin. + +“She is never in my room at this time and she must be in bed long ago, +but... I don’t care! Good-bye!” + +“What do you mean? I am coming with you, we’ll come in together!” + +“I know we are going in together, but I want to shake hands here and say +good-bye to you here. So give me your hand, good-bye!” + +“What’s the matter with you, Rodya?” + +“Nothing... come along... you shall be witness.” + +They began mounting the stairs, and the idea struck Razumihin that +perhaps Zossimov might be right after all. “Ah, I’ve upset him with my +chatter!” he muttered to himself. + +When they reached the door they heard voices in the room. + +“What is it?” cried Razumihin. Raskolnikov was the first to open the +door; he flung it wide and stood still in the doorway, dumbfoundered. + +His mother and sister were sitting on his sofa and had been waiting an +hour and a half for him. Why had he never expected, never thought of +them, though the news that they had started, were on their way and would +arrive immediately, had been repeated to him only that day? They had +spent that hour and a half plying Nastasya with questions. She was +standing before them and had told them everything by now. They were +beside themselves with alarm when they heard of his “running away” + to-day, ill and, as they understood from her story, delirious! “Good +Heavens, what had become of him?” Both had been weeping, both had been +in anguish for that hour and a half. + +A cry of joy, of ecstasy, greeted Raskolnikov’s entrance. Both rushed to +him. But he stood like one dead; a sudden intolerable sensation struck +him like a thunderbolt. He did not lift his arms to embrace them, he +could not. His mother and sister clasped him in their arms, kissed him, +laughed and cried. He took a step, tottered and fell to the ground, +fainting. + +Anxiety, cries of horror, moans... Razumihin who was standing in the +doorway flew into the room, seized the sick man in his strong arms and +in a moment had him on the sofa. + +“It’s nothing, nothing!” he cried to the mother and sister--“it’s only a +faint, a mere trifle! Only just now the doctor said he was much better, +that he is perfectly well! Water! See, he is coming to himself, he is +all right again!” + +And seizing Dounia by the arm so that he almost dislocated it, he made +her bend down to see that “he is all right again.” The mother and sister +looked on him with emotion and gratitude, as their Providence. They +had heard already from Nastasya all that had been done for their Rodya +during his illness, by this “very competent young man,” as Pulcheria +Alexandrovna Raskolnikov called him that evening in conversation with +Dounia. + + + + +PART III + + + +CHAPTER I + +Raskolnikov got up, and sat down on the sofa. He waved his hand weakly +to Razumihin to cut short the flow of warm and incoherent consolations +he was addressing to his mother and sister, took them both by the hand +and for a minute or two gazed from one to the other without speaking. +His mother was alarmed by his expression. It revealed an emotion +agonisingly poignant, and at the same time something immovable, almost +insane. Pulcheria Alexandrovna began to cry. + +Avdotya Romanovna was pale; her hand trembled in her brother’s. + +“Go home... with him,” he said in a broken voice, pointing to Razumihin, +“good-bye till to-morrow; to-morrow everything... Is it long since you +arrived?” + +“This evening, Rodya,” answered Pulcheria Alexandrovna, “the train was +awfully late. But, Rodya, nothing would induce me to leave you now! I +will spend the night here, near you...” + +“Don’t torture me!” he said with a gesture of irritation. + +“I will stay with him,” cried Razumihin, “I won’t leave him for a +moment. Bother all my visitors! Let them rage to their hearts’ content! +My uncle is presiding there.” + +“How, how can I thank you!” Pulcheria Alexandrovna was beginning, once +more pressing Razumihin’s hands, but Raskolnikov interrupted her again. + +“I can’t have it! I can’t have it!” he repeated irritably, “don’t worry +me! Enough, go away... I can’t stand it!” + +“Come, mamma, come out of the room at least for a minute,” Dounia +whispered in dismay; “we are distressing him, that’s evident.” + +“Mayn’t I look at him after three years?” wept Pulcheria Alexandrovna. + +“Stay,” he stopped them again, “you keep interrupting me, and my ideas +get muddled.... Have you seen Luzhin?” + +“No, Rodya, but he knows already of our arrival. We have heard, Rodya, +that Pyotr Petrovitch was so kind as to visit you today,” Pulcheria +Alexandrovna added somewhat timidly. + +“Yes... he was so kind... Dounia, I promised Luzhin I’d throw him +downstairs and told him to go to hell....” + +“Rodya, what are you saying! Surely, you don’t mean to tell us...” + Pulcheria Alexandrovna began in alarm, but she stopped, looking at +Dounia. + +Avdotya Romanovna was looking attentively at her brother, waiting +for what would come next. Both of them had heard of the quarrel from +Nastasya, so far as she had succeeded in understanding and reporting it, +and were in painful perplexity and suspense. + +“Dounia,” Raskolnikov continued with an effort, “I don’t want that +marriage, so at the first opportunity to-morrow you must refuse Luzhin, +so that we may never hear his name again.” + +“Good Heavens!” cried Pulcheria Alexandrovna. + +“Brother, think what you are saying!” Avdotya Romanovna began +impetuously, but immediately checked herself. “You are not fit to talk +now, perhaps; you are tired,” she added gently. + +“You think I am delirious? No... You are marrying Luzhin for _my_ +sake. But I won’t accept the sacrifice. And so write a letter before +to-morrow, to refuse him... Let me read it in the morning and that will +be the end of it!” + +“That I can’t do!” the girl cried, offended, “what right have you...” + +“Dounia, you are hasty, too, be quiet, to-morrow... Don’t you see...” + the mother interposed in dismay. “Better come away!” + +“He is raving,” Razumihin cried tipsily, “or how would he dare! +To-morrow all this nonsense will be over... to-day he certainly did +drive him away. That was so. And Luzhin got angry, too.... He made +speeches here, wanted to show off his learning and he went out +crest-fallen....” + +“Then it’s true?” cried Pulcheria Alexandrovna. + +“Good-bye till to-morrow, brother,” said Dounia compassionately--“let us +go, mother... Good-bye, Rodya.” + +“Do you hear, sister,” he repeated after them, making a last effort, +“I am not delirious; this marriage is--an infamy. Let me act like +a scoundrel, but you mustn’t... one is enough... and though I am a +scoundrel, I wouldn’t own such a sister. It’s me or Luzhin! Go now....” + +“But you’re out of your mind! Despot!” roared Razumihin; but Raskolnikov +did not and perhaps could not answer. He lay down on the sofa, and +turned to the wall, utterly exhausted. Avdotya Romanovna looked with +interest at Razumihin; her black eyes flashed; Razumihin positively +started at her glance. + +Pulcheria Alexandrovna stood overwhelmed. + +“Nothing would induce me to go,” she whispered in despair to Razumihin. +“I will stay somewhere here... escort Dounia home.” + +“You’ll spoil everything,” Razumihin answered in the same whisper, +losing patience--“come out on to the stairs, anyway. Nastasya, show a +light! I assure you,” he went on in a half whisper on the stairs--“that +he was almost beating the doctor and me this afternoon! Do you +understand? The doctor himself! Even he gave way and left him, so as not +to irritate him. I remained downstairs on guard, but he dressed at once +and slipped off. And he will slip off again if you irritate him, at this +time of night, and will do himself some mischief....” + +“What are you saying?” + +“And Avdotya Romanovna can’t possibly be left in those lodgings without +you. Just think where you are staying! That blackguard Pyotr Petrovitch +couldn’t find you better lodgings... But you know I’ve had a little to +drink, and that’s what makes me... swear; don’t mind it....” + +“But I’ll go to the landlady here,” Pulcheria Alexandrovna insisted, +“I’ll beseech her to find some corner for Dounia and me for the night. I +can’t leave him like that, I cannot!” + +This conversation took place on the landing just before the landlady’s +door. Nastasya lighted them from a step below. Razumihin was in +extraordinary excitement. Half an hour earlier, while he was bringing +Raskolnikov home, he had indeed talked too freely, but he was aware of +it himself, and his head was clear in spite of the vast quantities he +had imbibed. Now he was in a state bordering on ecstasy, and all that he +had drunk seemed to fly to his head with redoubled effect. He stood with +the two ladies, seizing both by their hands, persuading them, and giving +them reasons with astonishing plainness of speech, and at almost every +word he uttered, probably to emphasise his arguments, he squeezed their +hands painfully as in a vise. He stared at Avdotya Romanovna without the +least regard for good manners. They sometimes pulled their hands out of +his huge bony paws, but far from noticing what was the matter, he drew +them all the closer to him. If they’d told him to jump head foremost +from the staircase, he would have done it without thought or hesitation +in their service. Though Pulcheria Alexandrovna felt that the young man +was really too eccentric and pinched her hand too much, in her anxiety +over her Rodya she looked on his presence as providential, and was +unwilling to notice all his peculiarities. But though Avdotya Romanovna +shared her anxiety, and was not of timorous disposition, she could not +see the glowing light in his eyes without wonder and almost alarm. It +was only the unbounded confidence inspired by Nastasya’s account of her +brother’s queer friend, which prevented her from trying to run away from +him, and to persuade her mother to do the same. She realised, too, +that even running away was perhaps impossible now. Ten minutes later, +however, she was considerably reassured; it was characteristic of +Razumihin that he showed his true nature at once, whatever mood he might +be in, so that people quickly saw the sort of man they had to deal with. + +“You can’t go to the landlady, that’s perfect nonsense!” he cried. “If +you stay, though you are his mother, you’ll drive him to a frenzy, and +then goodness knows what will happen! Listen, I’ll tell you what I’ll +do: Nastasya will stay with him now, and I’ll conduct you both home, you +can’t be in the streets alone; Petersburg is an awful place in that +way.... But no matter! Then I’ll run straight back here and a quarter of +an hour later, on my word of honour, I’ll bring you news how he is, +whether he is asleep, and all that. Then, listen! Then I’ll run home in +a twinkling--I’ve a lot of friends there, all drunk--I’ll fetch +Zossimov--that’s the doctor who is looking after him, he is there, too, +but he is not drunk; he is not drunk, he is never drunk! I’ll drag him +to Rodya, and then to you, so that you’ll get two reports in the +hour--from the doctor, you understand, from the doctor himself, that’s a +very different thing from my account of him! If there’s anything wrong, +I swear I’ll bring you here myself, but, if it’s all right, you go to +bed. And I’ll spend the night here, in the passage, he won’t hear me, +and I’ll tell Zossimov to sleep at the landlady’s, to be at hand. Which +is better for him: you or the doctor? So come home then! But the +landlady is out of the question; it’s all right for me, but it’s out of +the question for you: she wouldn’t take you, for she’s... for she’s a +fool... She’d be jealous on my account of Avdotya Romanovna and of you, +too, if you want to know... of Avdotya Romanovna certainly. She is an +absolutely, absolutely unaccountable character! But I am a fool, too!... +No matter! Come along! Do you trust me? Come, do you trust me or not?” + +“Let us go, mother,” said Avdotya Romanovna, “he will certainly do what +he has promised. He has saved Rodya already, and if the doctor really +will consent to spend the night here, what could be better?” + +“You see, you... you... understand me, because you are an angel!” + Razumihin cried in ecstasy, “let us go! Nastasya! Fly upstairs and sit +with him with a light; I’ll come in a quarter of an hour.” + +Though Pulcheria Alexandrovna was not perfectly convinced, she made no +further resistance. Razumihin gave an arm to each and drew them down +the stairs. He still made her uneasy, as though he was competent and +good-natured, was he capable of carrying out his promise? He seemed in +such a condition.... + +“Ah, I see you think I am in such a condition!” Razumihin broke in upon +her thoughts, guessing them, as he strolled along the pavement with huge +steps, so that the two ladies could hardly keep up with him, a fact he +did not observe, however. “Nonsense! That is... I am drunk like a fool, +but that’s not it; I am not drunk from wine. It’s seeing you has turned +my head... But don’t mind me! Don’t take any notice: I am talking +nonsense, I am not worthy of you.... I am utterly unworthy of you! The +minute I’ve taken you home, I’ll pour a couple of pailfuls of water over +my head in the gutter here, and then I shall be all right.... If only +you knew how I love you both! Don’t laugh, and don’t be angry! You may +be angry with anyone, but not with me! I am his friend, and therefore I +am your friend, too, I want to be... I had a presentiment... Last year +there was a moment... though it wasn’t a presentiment really, for +you seem to have fallen from heaven. And I expect I shan’t sleep all +night... Zossimov was afraid a little time ago that he would go mad... +that’s why he mustn’t be irritated.” + +“What do you say?” cried the mother. + +“Did the doctor really say that?” asked Avdotya Romanovna, alarmed. + +“Yes, but it’s not so, not a bit of it. He gave him some medicine, a +powder, I saw it, and then your coming here.... Ah! It would have been +better if you had come to-morrow. It’s a good thing we went away. And in +an hour Zossimov himself will report to you about everything. He is not +drunk! And I shan’t be drunk.... And what made me get so tight? Because +they got me into an argument, damn them! I’ve sworn never to argue! They +talk such trash! I almost came to blows! I’ve left my uncle to preside. +Would you believe, they insist on complete absence of individualism +and that’s just what they relish! Not to be themselves, to be as unlike +themselves as they can. That’s what they regard as the highest point of +progress. If only their nonsense were their own, but as it is...” + +“Listen!” Pulcheria Alexandrovna interrupted timidly, but it only added +fuel to the flames. + +“What do you think?” shouted Razumihin, louder than ever, “you think I +am attacking them for talking nonsense? Not a bit! I like them to talk +nonsense. That’s man’s one privilege over all creation. Through error +you come to the truth! I am a man because I err! You never reach any +truth without making fourteen mistakes and very likely a hundred and +fourteen. And a fine thing, too, in its way; but we can’t even make +mistakes on our own account! Talk nonsense, but talk your own nonsense, +and I’ll kiss you for it. To go wrong in one’s own way is better than +to go right in someone else’s. In the first case you are a man, in the +second you’re no better than a bird. Truth won’t escape you, but life +can be cramped. There have been examples. And what are we doing now? +In science, development, thought, invention, ideals, aims, liberalism, +judgment, experience and everything, everything, everything, we are +still in the preparatory class at school. We prefer to live on other +people’s ideas, it’s what we are used to! Am I right, am I right?” cried +Razumihin, pressing and shaking the two ladies’ hands. + +“Oh, mercy, I do not know,” cried poor Pulcheria Alexandrovna. + +“Yes, yes... though I don’t agree with you in everything,” added Avdotya +Romanovna earnestly and at once uttered a cry, for he squeezed her hand +so painfully. + +“Yes, you say yes... well after that you... you...” he cried in +a transport, “you are a fount of goodness, purity, sense... and +perfection. Give me your hand... you give me yours, too! I want to kiss +your hands here at once, on my knees...” and he fell on his knees on the +pavement, fortunately at that time deserted. + +“Leave off, I entreat you, what are you doing?” Pulcheria Alexandrovna +cried, greatly distressed. + +“Get up, get up!” said Dounia laughing, though she, too, was upset. + +“Not for anything till you let me kiss your hands! That’s it! Enough! I +get up and we’ll go on! I am a luckless fool, I am unworthy of you and +drunk... and I am ashamed.... I am not worthy to love you, but to do +homage to you is the duty of every man who is not a perfect beast! And +I’ve done homage.... Here are your lodgings, and for that alone Rodya +was right in driving your Pyotr Petrovitch away.... How dare he! how +dare he put you in such lodgings! It’s a scandal! Do you know the +sort of people they take in here? And you his betrothed! You are +his betrothed? Yes? Well, then, I’ll tell you, your _fiancé_ is a +scoundrel.” + +“Excuse me, Mr. Razumihin, you are forgetting...” Pulcheria Alexandrovna +was beginning. + +“Yes, yes, you are right, I did forget myself, I am ashamed of it,” + Razumihin made haste to apologise. “But... but you can’t be angry with +me for speaking so! For I speak sincerely and not because... hm, hm! +That would be disgraceful; in fact not because I’m in... hm! Well, +anyway, I won’t say why, I daren’t.... But we all saw to-day when he +came in that that man is not of our sort. Not because he had his hair +curled at the barber’s, not because he was in such a hurry to show his +wit, but because he is a spy, a speculator, because he is a skin-flint +and a buffoon. That’s evident. Do you think him clever? No, he is a +fool, a fool. And is he a match for you? Good heavens! Do you see, +ladies?” he stopped suddenly on the way upstairs to their rooms, “though +all my friends there are drunk, yet they are all honest, and though we +do talk a lot of trash, and I do, too, yet we shall talk our way to the +truth at last, for we are on the right path, while Pyotr Petrovitch... +is not on the right path. Though I’ve been calling them all sorts of +names just now, I do respect them all... though I don’t respect Zametov, +I like him, for he is a puppy, and that bullock Zossimov, because he +is an honest man and knows his work. But enough, it’s all said and +forgiven. Is it forgiven? Well, then, let’s go on. I know this corridor, +I’ve been here, there was a scandal here at Number 3.... Where are you +here? Which number? eight? Well, lock yourselves in for the night, then. +Don’t let anybody in. In a quarter of an hour I’ll come back with news, +and half an hour later I’ll bring Zossimov, you’ll see! Good-bye, I’ll +run.” + +“Good heavens, Dounia, what is going to happen?” said Pulcheria +Alexandrovna, addressing her daughter with anxiety and dismay. + +“Don’t worry yourself, mother,” said Dounia, taking off her hat and +cape. “God has sent this gentleman to our aid, though he has come from a +drinking party. We can depend on him, I assure you. And all that he has +done for Rodya....” + +“Ah. Dounia, goodness knows whether he will come! How could I bring +myself to leave Rodya?... And how different, how different I had fancied +our meeting! How sullen he was, as though not pleased to see us....” + +Tears came into her eyes. + +“No, it’s not that, mother. You didn’t see, you were crying all the +time. He is quite unhinged by serious illness--that’s the reason.” + +“Ah, that illness! What will happen, what will happen? And how he talked +to you, Dounia!” said the mother, looking timidly at her daughter, +trying to read her thoughts and, already half consoled by Dounia’s +standing up for her brother, which meant that she had already forgiven +him. “I am sure he will think better of it to-morrow,” she added, +probing her further. + +“And I am sure that he will say the same to-morrow... about that,” + Avdotya Romanovna said finally. And, of course, there was no going +beyond that, for this was a point which Pulcheria Alexandrovna was +afraid to discuss. Dounia went up and kissed her mother. The latter +warmly embraced her without speaking. Then she sat down to wait +anxiously for Razumihin’s return, timidly watching her daughter who +walked up and down the room with her arms folded, lost in thought. +This walking up and down when she was thinking was a habit of Avdotya +Romanovna’s and the mother was always afraid to break in on her +daughter’s mood at such moments. + +Razumihin, of course, was ridiculous in his sudden drunken infatuation +for Avdotya Romanovna. Yet apart from his eccentric condition, many +people would have thought it justified if they had seen Avdotya +Romanovna, especially at that moment when she was walking to and +fro with folded arms, pensive and melancholy. Avdotya Romanovna was +remarkably good-looking; she was tall, strikingly well-proportioned, +strong and self-reliant--the latter quality was apparent in every +gesture, though it did not in the least detract from the grace and +softness of her movements. In face she resembled her brother, but she +might be described as really beautiful. Her hair was dark brown, a +little lighter than her brother’s; there was a proud light in her almost +black eyes and yet at times a look of extraordinary kindness. She was +pale, but it was a healthy pallor; her face was radiant with freshness +and vigour. Her mouth was rather small; the full red lower lip projected +a little as did her chin; it was the only irregularity in her beautiful +face, but it gave it a peculiarly individual and almost haughty +expression. Her face was always more serious and thoughtful than gay; +but how well smiles, how well youthful, lighthearted, irresponsible, +laughter suited her face! It was natural enough that a warm, open, +simple-hearted, honest giant like Razumihin, who had never seen anyone +like her and was not quite sober at the time, should lose his head +immediately. Besides, as chance would have it, he saw Dounia for the +first time transfigured by her love for her brother and her joy at +meeting him. Afterwards he saw her lower lip quiver with indignation +at her brother’s insolent, cruel and ungrateful words--and his fate was +sealed. + +He had spoken the truth, moreover, when he blurted out in his drunken +talk on the stairs that Praskovya Pavlovna, Raskolnikov’s eccentric +landlady, would be jealous of Pulcheria Alexandrovna as well as of +Avdotya Romanovna on his account. Although Pulcheria Alexandrovna was +forty-three, her face still retained traces of her former beauty; she +looked much younger than her age, indeed, which is almost always the +case with women who retain serenity of spirit, sensitiveness and pure +sincere warmth of heart to old age. We may add in parenthesis that to +preserve all this is the only means of retaining beauty to old age. Her +hair had begun to grow grey and thin, there had long been little crow’s +foot wrinkles round her eyes, her cheeks were hollow and sunken from +anxiety and grief, and yet it was a handsome face. She was Dounia +over again, twenty years older, but without the projecting underlip. +Pulcheria Alexandrovna was emotional, but not sentimental, timid and +yielding, but only to a certain point. She could give way and accept a +great deal even of what was contrary to her convictions, but there was a +certain barrier fixed by honesty, principle and the deepest convictions +which nothing would induce her to cross. + +Exactly twenty minutes after Razumihin’s departure, there came two +subdued but hurried knocks at the door: he had come back. + +“I won’t come in, I haven’t time,” he hastened to say when the door was +opened. “He sleeps like a top, soundly, quietly, and God grant he may +sleep ten hours. Nastasya’s with him; I told her not to leave till I +came. Now I am fetching Zossimov, he will report to you and then you’d +better turn in; I can see you are too tired to do anything....” + +And he ran off down the corridor. + +“What a very competent and... devoted young man!” cried Pulcheria +Alexandrovna exceedingly delighted. + +“He seems a splendid person!” Avdotya Romanovna replied with some +warmth, resuming her walk up and down the room. + +It was nearly an hour later when they heard footsteps in the corridor +and another knock at the door. Both women waited this time completely +relying on Razumihin’s promise; he actually had succeeded in bringing +Zossimov. Zossimov had agreed at once to desert the drinking party to +go to Raskolnikov’s, but he came reluctantly and with the greatest +suspicion to see the ladies, mistrusting Razumihin in his exhilarated +condition. But his vanity was at once reassured and flattered; he saw +that they were really expecting him as an oracle. He stayed just ten +minutes and succeeded in completely convincing and comforting Pulcheria +Alexandrovna. He spoke with marked sympathy, but with the reserve and +extreme seriousness of a young doctor at an important consultation. +He did not utter a word on any other subject and did not display the +slightest desire to enter into more personal relations with the two +ladies. Remarking at his first entrance the dazzling beauty of Avdotya +Romanovna, he endeavoured not to notice her at all during his visit and +addressed himself solely to Pulcheria Alexandrovna. All this gave him +extraordinary inward satisfaction. He declared that he thought the +invalid at this moment going on very satisfactorily. According to his +observations the patient’s illness was due partly to his unfortunate +material surroundings during the last few months, but it had partly also +a moral origin, “was, so to speak, the product of several material and +moral influences, anxieties, apprehensions, troubles, certain ideas... +and so on.” Noticing stealthily that Avdotya Romanovna was following his +words with close attention, Zossimov allowed himself to enlarge on this +theme. On Pulcheria Alexandrovna’s anxiously and timidly inquiring as +to “some suspicion of insanity,” he replied with a composed and candid +smile that his words had been exaggerated; that certainly the patient +had some fixed idea, something approaching a monomania--he, Zossimov, +was now particularly studying this interesting branch of medicine--but +that it must be recollected that until to-day the patient had been in +delirium and... and that no doubt the presence of his family would have +a favourable effect on his recovery and distract his mind, “if only all +fresh shocks can be avoided,” he added significantly. Then he got up, +took leave with an impressive and affable bow, while blessings, warm +gratitude, and entreaties were showered upon him, and Avdotya Romanovna +spontaneously offered her hand to him. He went out exceedingly pleased +with his visit and still more so with himself. + +“We’ll talk to-morrow; go to bed at once!” Razumihin said in conclusion, +following Zossimov out. “I’ll be with you to-morrow morning as early as +possible with my report.” + +“That’s a fetching little girl, Avdotya Romanovna,” remarked Zossimov, +almost licking his lips as they both came out into the street. + +“Fetching? You said fetching?” roared Razumihin and he flew at Zossimov +and seized him by the throat. “If you ever dare.... Do you understand? +Do you understand?” he shouted, shaking him by the collar and squeezing +him against the wall. “Do you hear?” + +“Let me go, you drunken devil,” said Zossimov, struggling and when he +had let him go, he stared at him and went off into a sudden guffaw. +Razumihin stood facing him in gloomy and earnest reflection. + +“Of course, I am an ass,” he observed, sombre as a storm cloud, “but +still... you are another.” + +“No, brother, not at all such another. I am not dreaming of any folly.” + +They walked along in silence and only when they were close to +Raskolnikov’s lodgings, Razumihin broke the silence in considerable +anxiety. + +“Listen,” he said, “you’re a first-rate fellow, but among your other +failings, you’re a loose fish, that I know, and a dirty one, too. You +are a feeble, nervous wretch, and a mass of whims, you’re getting fat +and lazy and can’t deny yourself anything--and I call that dirty because +it leads one straight into the dirt. You’ve let yourself get so slack +that I don’t know how it is you are still a good, even a devoted doctor. +You--a doctor--sleep on a feather bed and get up at night to your +patients! In another three or four years you won’t get up for your +patients... But hang it all, that’s not the point!... You are going +to spend to-night in the landlady’s flat here. (Hard work I’ve had to +persuade her!) And I’ll be in the kitchen. So here’s a chance for you to +get to know her better.... It’s not as you think! There’s not a trace of +anything of the sort, brother...!” + +“But I don’t think!” + +“Here you have modesty, brother, silence, bashfulness, a savage +virtue... and yet she’s sighing and melting like wax, simply melting! +Save me from her, by all that’s unholy! She’s most prepossessing... I’ll +repay you, I’ll do anything....” + +Zossimov laughed more violently than ever. + +“Well, you are smitten! But what am I to do with her?” + +“It won’t be much trouble, I assure you. Talk any rot you like to her, +as long as you sit by her and talk. You’re a doctor, too; try curing +her of something. I swear you won’t regret it. She has a piano, and you +know, I strum a little. I have a song there, a genuine Russian one: ‘I +shed hot tears.’ She likes the genuine article--and well, it all +began with that song; Now you’re a regular performer, a _maître_, a +Rubinstein.... I assure you, you won’t regret it!” + +“But have you made her some promise? Something signed? A promise of +marriage, perhaps?” + +“Nothing, nothing, absolutely nothing of the kind! Besides she is not +that sort at all.... Tchebarov tried that....” + +“Well then, drop her!” + +“But I can’t drop her like that!” + +“Why can’t you?” + +“Well, I can’t, that’s all about it! There’s an element of attraction +here, brother.” + +“Then why have you fascinated her?” + +“I haven’t fascinated her; perhaps I was fascinated myself in my folly. +But she won’t care a straw whether it’s you or I, so long as somebody +sits beside her, sighing.... I can’t explain the position, brother... +look here, you are good at mathematics, and working at it now... begin +teaching her the integral calculus; upon my soul, I’m not joking, I’m +in earnest, it’ll be just the same to her. She will gaze at you and sigh +for a whole year together. I talked to her once for two days at a time +about the Prussian House of Lords (for one must talk of something)--she +just sighed and perspired! And you mustn’t talk of love--she’s bashful +to hysterics--but just let her see you can’t tear yourself away--that’s +enough. It’s fearfully comfortable; you’re quite at home, you can +read, sit, lie about, write. You may even venture on a kiss, if you’re +careful.” + +“But what do I want with her?” + +“Ach, I can’t make you understand! You see, you are made for each other! +I have often been reminded of you!... You’ll come to it in the end! So +does it matter whether it’s sooner or later? There’s the feather-bed +element here, brother--ach! and not only that! There’s an attraction +here--here you have the end of the world, an anchorage, a quiet haven, +the navel of the earth, the three fishes that are the foundation of the +world, the essence of pancakes, of savoury fish-pies, of the evening +samovar, of soft sighs and warm shawls, and hot stoves to sleep on--as +snug as though you were dead, and yet you’re alive--the advantages +of both at once! Well, hang it, brother, what stuff I’m talking, it’s +bedtime! Listen. I sometimes wake up at night; so I’ll go in and look at +him. But there’s no need, it’s all right. Don’t you worry yourself, +yet if you like, you might just look in once, too. But if you notice +anything--delirium or fever--wake me at once. But there can’t be....” + + + +CHAPTER II + +Razumihin waked up next morning at eight o’clock, troubled and serious. +He found himself confronted with many new and unlooked-for perplexities. +He had never expected that he would ever wake up feeling like that. He +remembered every detail of the previous day and he knew that a perfectly +novel experience had befallen him, that he had received an impression +unlike anything he had known before. At the same time he recognised +clearly that the dream which had fired his imagination was hopelessly +unattainable--so unattainable that he felt positively ashamed of it, and +he hastened to pass to the other more practical cares and difficulties +bequeathed him by that “thrice accursed yesterday.” + +The most awful recollection of the previous day was the way he had shown +himself “base and mean,” not only because he had been drunk, but +because he had taken advantage of the young girl’s position to abuse +her _fiancé_ in his stupid jealousy, knowing nothing of their mutual +relations and obligations and next to nothing of the man himself. And +what right had he to criticise him in that hasty and unguarded manner? +Who had asked for his opinion? Was it thinkable that such a creature as +Avdotya Romanovna would be marrying an unworthy man for money? So there +must be something in him. The lodgings? But after all how could he know +the character of the lodgings? He was furnishing a flat... Foo! how +despicable it all was! And what justification was it that he was drunk? +Such a stupid excuse was even more degrading! In wine is truth, and the +truth had all come out, “that is, all the uncleanness of his coarse +and envious heart”! And would such a dream ever be permissible to +him, Razumihin? What was he beside such a girl--he, the drunken noisy +braggart of last night? Was it possible to imagine so absurd and cynical +a juxtaposition? Razumihin blushed desperately at the very idea and +suddenly the recollection forced itself vividly upon him of how he had +said last night on the stairs that the landlady would be jealous of +Avdotya Romanovna... that was simply intolerable. He brought his fist +down heavily on the kitchen stove, hurt his hand and sent one of the +bricks flying. + +“Of course,” he muttered to himself a minute later with a feeling of +self-abasement, “of course, all these infamies can never be wiped out or +smoothed over... and so it’s useless even to think of it, and I must +go to them in silence and do my duty... in silence, too... and not ask +forgiveness, and say nothing... for all is lost now!” + +And yet as he dressed he examined his attire more carefully than usual. +He hadn’t another suit--if he had had, perhaps he wouldn’t have put it +on. “I would have made a point of not putting it on.” But in any case he +could not remain a cynic and a dirty sloven; he had no right to offend +the feelings of others, especially when they were in need of his +assistance and asking him to see them. He brushed his clothes carefully. +His linen was always decent; in that respect he was especially clean. + +He washed that morning scrupulously--he got some soap from Nastasya--he +washed his hair, his neck and especially his hands. When it came to the +question whether to shave his stubbly chin or not (Praskovya Pavlovna +had capital razors that had been left by her late husband), the question +was angrily answered in the negative. “Let it stay as it is! What if +they think that I shaved on purpose to...? They certainly would think +so! Not on any account!” + +“And... the worst of it was he was so coarse, so dirty, he had the +manners of a pothouse; and... and even admitting that he knew he had +some of the essentials of a gentleman... what was there in that to be +proud of? Everyone ought to be a gentleman and more than that... and all +the same (he remembered) he, too, had done little things... not exactly +dishonest, and yet.... And what thoughts he sometimes had; hm... and to +set all that beside Avdotya Romanovna! Confound it! So be it! Well, he’d +make a point then of being dirty, greasy, pothouse in his manners and he +wouldn’t care! He’d be worse!” + +He was engaged in such monologues when Zossimov, who had spent the night +in Praskovya Pavlovna’s parlour, came in. + +He was going home and was in a hurry to look at the invalid first. +Razumihin informed him that Raskolnikov was sleeping like a dormouse. +Zossimov gave orders that they shouldn’t wake him and promised to see +him again about eleven. + +“If he is still at home,” he added. “Damn it all! If one can’t control +one’s patients, how is one to cure them? Do you know whether _he_ will +go to them, or whether _they_ are coming here?” + +“They are coming, I think,” said Razumihin, understanding the object +of the question, “and they will discuss their family affairs, no doubt. +I’ll be off. You, as the doctor, have more right to be here than I.” + +“But I am not a father confessor; I shall come and go away; I’ve plenty +to do besides looking after them.” + +“One thing worries me,” interposed Razumihin, frowning. “On the way home +I talked a lot of drunken nonsense to him... all sorts of things... and +amongst them that you were afraid that he... might become insane.” + +“You told the ladies so, too.” + +“I know it was stupid! You may beat me if you like! Did you think so +seriously?” + +“That’s nonsense, I tell you, how could I think it seriously? You, +yourself, described him as a monomaniac when you fetched me to +him... and we added fuel to the fire yesterday, you did, that is, with +your story about the painter; it was a nice conversation, when he was, +perhaps, mad on that very point! If only I’d known what happened then +at the police station and that some wretch... had insulted him with this +suspicion! Hm... I would not have allowed that conversation yesterday. +These monomaniacs will make a mountain out of a mole-hill... and +see their fancies as solid realities.... As far as I remember, it was +Zametov’s story that cleared up half the mystery, to my mind. Why, I +know one case in which a hypochondriac, a man of forty, cut the throat +of a little boy of eight, because he couldn’t endure the jokes he made +every day at table! And in this case his rags, the insolent police +officer, the fever and this suspicion! All that working upon a man half +frantic with hypochondria, and with his morbid exceptional vanity! That +may well have been the starting-point of illness. Well, bother it +all!... And, by the way, that Zametov certainly is a nice fellow, but +hm... he shouldn’t have told all that last night. He is an awful +chatterbox!” + +“But whom did he tell it to? You and me?” + +“And Porfiry.” + +“What does that matter?” + +“And, by the way, have you any influence on them, his mother and sister? +Tell them to be more careful with him to-day....” + +“They’ll get on all right!” Razumihin answered reluctantly. + +“Why is he so set against this Luzhin? A man with money and she doesn’t +seem to dislike him... and they haven’t a farthing, I suppose? eh?” + +“But what business is it of yours?” Razumihin cried with annoyance. “How +can I tell whether they’ve a farthing? Ask them yourself and perhaps +you’ll find out....” + +“Foo! what an ass you are sometimes! Last night’s wine has not gone off +yet.... Good-bye; thank your Praskovya Pavlovna from me for my night’s +lodging. She locked herself in, made no reply to my _bonjour_ through +the door; she was up at seven o’clock, the samovar was taken into her +from the kitchen. I was not vouchsafed a personal interview....” + +At nine o’clock precisely Razumihin reached the lodgings at Bakaleyev’s +house. Both ladies were waiting for him with nervous impatience. They +had risen at seven o’clock or earlier. He entered looking as black as +night, bowed awkwardly and was at once furious with himself for it. He +had reckoned without his host: Pulcheria Alexandrovna fairly rushed at +him, seized him by both hands and was almost kissing them. He glanced +timidly at Avdotya Romanovna, but her proud countenance wore at that +moment an expression of such gratitude and friendliness, such +complete and unlooked-for respect (in place of the sneering looks and +ill-disguised contempt he had expected), that it threw him into greater +confusion than if he had been met with abuse. Fortunately there was a +subject for conversation, and he made haste to snatch at it. + +Hearing that everything was going well and that Rodya had not yet waked, +Pulcheria Alexandrovna declared that she was glad to hear it, because +“she had something which it was very, very necessary to talk over +beforehand.” Then followed an inquiry about breakfast and an invitation +to have it with them; they had waited to have it with him. Avdotya +Romanovna rang the bell: it was answered by a ragged dirty waiter, and +they asked him to bring tea which was served at last, but in such +a dirty and disorderly way that the ladies were ashamed. Razumihin +vigorously attacked the lodgings, but, remembering Luzhin, stopped +in embarrassment and was greatly relieved by Pulcheria Alexandrovna’s +questions, which showered in a continual stream upon him. + +He talked for three quarters of an hour, being constantly interrupted +by their questions, and succeeded in describing to them all the +most important facts he knew of the last year of Raskolnikov’s life, +concluding with a circumstantial account of his illness. He omitted, +however, many things, which were better omitted, including the scene at +the police station with all its consequences. They listened eagerly +to his story, and, when he thought he had finished and satisfied his +listeners, he found that they considered he had hardly begun. + +“Tell me, tell me! What do you think...? Excuse me, I still don’t know +your name!” Pulcheria Alexandrovna put in hastily. + +“Dmitri Prokofitch.” + +“I should like very, very much to know, Dmitri Prokofitch... how he +looks... on things in general now, that is, how can I explain, what are +his likes and dislikes? Is he always so irritable? Tell me, if you can, +what are his hopes and, so to say, his dreams? Under what influences is +he now? In a word, I should like...” + +“Ah, mother, how can he answer all that at once?” observed Dounia. + +“Good heavens, I had not expected to find him in the least like this, +Dmitri Prokofitch!” + +“Naturally,” answered Razumihin. “I have no mother, but my uncle comes +every year and almost every time he can scarcely recognise me, even in +appearance, though he is a clever man; and your three years’ separation +means a great deal. What am I to tell you? I have known Rodion for +a year and a half; he is morose, gloomy, proud and haughty, and of +late--and perhaps for a long time before--he has been suspicious and +fanciful. He has a noble nature and a kind heart. He does not like +showing his feelings and would rather do a cruel thing than open his +heart freely. Sometimes, though, he is not at all morbid, but simply +cold and inhumanly callous; it’s as though he were alternating between +two characters. Sometimes he is fearfully reserved! He says he is +so busy that everything is a hindrance, and yet he lies in bed doing +nothing. He doesn’t jeer at things, not because he hasn’t the wit, but +as though he hadn’t time to waste on such trifles. He never listens +to what is said to him. He is never interested in what interests other +people at any given moment. He thinks very highly of himself and perhaps +he is right. Well, what more? I think your arrival will have a most +beneficial influence upon him.” + +“God grant it may,” cried Pulcheria Alexandrovna, distressed by +Razumihin’s account of her Rodya. + +And Razumihin ventured to look more boldly at Avdotya Romanovna at last. +He glanced at her often while he was talking, but only for a moment and +looked away again at once. Avdotya Romanovna sat at the table, listening +attentively, then got up again and began walking to and fro with her +arms folded and her lips compressed, occasionally putting in a question, +without stopping her walk. She had the same habit of not listening to +what was said. She was wearing a dress of thin dark stuff and she had a +white transparent scarf round her neck. Razumihin soon detected signs of +extreme poverty in their belongings. Had Avdotya Romanovna been dressed +like a queen, he felt that he would not be afraid of her, but perhaps +just because she was poorly dressed and that he noticed all the misery +of her surroundings, his heart was filled with dread and he began to be +afraid of every word he uttered, every gesture he made, which was very +trying for a man who already felt diffident. + +“You’ve told us a great deal that is interesting about my brother’s +character... and have told it impartially. I am glad. I thought that you +were too uncritically devoted to him,” observed Avdotya Romanovna with +a smile. “I think you are right that he needs a woman’s care,” she added +thoughtfully. + +“I didn’t say so; but I daresay you are right, only...” + +“What?” + +“He loves no one and perhaps he never will,” Razumihin declared +decisively. + +“You mean he is not capable of love?” + +“Do you know, Avdotya Romanovna, you are awfully like your brother, in +everything, indeed!” he blurted out suddenly to his own surprise, but +remembering at once what he had just before said of her brother, +he turned as red as a crab and was overcome with confusion. Avdotya +Romanovna couldn’t help laughing when she looked at him. + +“You may both be mistaken about Rodya,” Pulcheria Alexandrovna remarked, +slightly piqued. “I am not talking of our present difficulty, Dounia. +What Pyotr Petrovitch writes in this letter and what you and I have +supposed may be mistaken, but you can’t imagine, Dmitri Prokofitch, how +moody and, so to say, capricious he is. I never could depend on what +he would do when he was only fifteen. And I am sure that he might +do something now that nobody else would think of doing... Well, for +instance, do you know how a year and a half ago he astounded me and gave +me a shock that nearly killed me, when he had the idea of marrying that +girl--what was her name--his landlady’s daughter?” + +“Did you hear about that affair?” asked Avdotya Romanovna. + +“Do you suppose----” Pulcheria Alexandrovna continued warmly. “Do you +suppose that my tears, my entreaties, my illness, my possible death from +grief, our poverty would have made him pause? No, he would calmly have +disregarded all obstacles. And yet it isn’t that he doesn’t love us!” + +“He has never spoken a word of that affair to me,” Razumihin answered +cautiously. “But I did hear something from Praskovya Pavlovna herself, +though she is by no means a gossip. And what I heard certainly was +rather strange.” + +“And what did you hear?” both the ladies asked at once. + +“Well, nothing very special. I only learned that the marriage, which +only failed to take place through the girl’s death, was not at all to +Praskovya Pavlovna’s liking. They say, too, the girl was not at all +pretty, in fact I am told positively ugly... and such an invalid... and +queer. But she seems to have had some good qualities. She must have +had some good qualities or it’s quite inexplicable.... She had no money +either and he wouldn’t have considered her money.... But it’s always +difficult to judge in such matters.” + +“I am sure she was a good girl,” Avdotya Romanovna observed briefly. + +“God forgive me, I simply rejoiced at her death. Though I don’t know +which of them would have caused most misery to the other--he to her +or she to him,” Pulcheria Alexandrovna concluded. Then she began +tentatively questioning him about the scene on the previous day with +Luzhin, hesitating and continually glancing at Dounia, obviously to +the latter’s annoyance. This incident more than all the rest evidently +caused her uneasiness, even consternation. Razumihin described it in +detail again, but this time he added his own conclusions: he openly +blamed Raskolnikov for intentionally insulting Pyotr Petrovitch, not +seeking to excuse him on the score of his illness. + +“He had planned it before his illness,” he added. + +“I think so, too,” Pulcheria Alexandrovna agreed with a dejected air. +But she was very much surprised at hearing Razumihin express himself +so carefully and even with a certain respect about Pyotr Petrovitch. +Avdotya Romanovna, too, was struck by it. + +“So this is your opinion of Pyotr Petrovitch?” Pulcheria Alexandrovna +could not resist asking. + +“I can have no other opinion of your daughter’s future husband,” + Razumihin answered firmly and with warmth, “and I don’t say it simply +from vulgar politeness, but because... simply because Avdotya Romanovna +has of her own free will deigned to accept this man. If I spoke so +rudely of him last night, it was because I was disgustingly drunk and... +mad besides; yes, mad, crazy, I lost my head completely... and this +morning I am ashamed of it.” + +He crimsoned and ceased speaking. Avdotya Romanovna flushed, but did not +break the silence. She had not uttered a word from the moment they began +to speak of Luzhin. + +Without her support Pulcheria Alexandrovna obviously did not know what +to do. At last, faltering and continually glancing at her daughter, she +confessed that she was exceedingly worried by one circumstance. + +“You see, Dmitri Prokofitch,” she began. “I’ll be perfectly open with +Dmitri Prokofitch, Dounia?” + +“Of course, mother,” said Avdotya Romanovna emphatically. + +“This is what it is,” she began in haste, as though the permission to +speak of her trouble lifted a weight off her mind. “Very early this +morning we got a note from Pyotr Petrovitch in reply to our letter +announcing our arrival. He promised to meet us at the station, you +know; instead of that he sent a servant to bring us the address of these +lodgings and to show us the way; and he sent a message that he would +be here himself this morning. But this morning this note came from him. +You’d better read it yourself; there is one point in it which worries me +very much... you will soon see what that is, and... tell me your candid +opinion, Dmitri Prokofitch! You know Rodya’s character better than +anyone and no one can advise us better than you can. Dounia, I must tell +you, made her decision at once, but I still don’t feel sure how to act +and I... I’ve been waiting for your opinion.” + +Razumihin opened the note which was dated the previous evening and read +as follows: + +“Dear Madam, Pulcheria Alexandrovna, I have the honour to inform you +that owing to unforeseen obstacles I was rendered unable to meet you at +the railway station; I sent a very competent person with the same object +in view. I likewise shall be deprived of the honour of an interview with +you to-morrow morning by business in the Senate that does not admit of +delay, and also that I may not intrude on your family circle while you +are meeting your son, and Avdotya Romanovna her brother. I shall have +the honour of visiting you and paying you my respects at your lodgings +not later than to-morrow evening at eight o’clock precisely, and +herewith I venture to present my earnest and, I may add, imperative +request that Rodion Romanovitch may not be present at our interview--as +he offered me a gross and unprecedented affront on the occasion of my +visit to him in his illness yesterday, and, moreover, since I desire +from you personally an indispensable and circumstantial explanation +upon a certain point, in regard to which I wish to learn your own +interpretation. I have the honour to inform you, in anticipation, +that if, in spite of my request, I meet Rodion Romanovitch, I shall be +compelled to withdraw immediately and then you have only yourself to +blame. I write on the assumption that Rodion Romanovitch who appeared so +ill at my visit, suddenly recovered two hours later and so, being able +to leave the house, may visit you also. I was confirmed in that belief +by the testimony of my own eyes in the lodging of a drunken man who +was run over and has since died, to whose daughter, a young woman of +notorious behaviour, he gave twenty-five roubles on the pretext of the +funeral, which gravely surprised me knowing what pains you were at to +raise that sum. Herewith expressing my special respect to your estimable +daughter, Avdotya Romanovna, I beg you to accept the respectful homage +of + +“Your humble servant, + +“P. LUZHIN.” + + +“What am I to do now, Dmitri Prokofitch?” began Pulcheria Alexandrovna, +almost weeping. “How can I ask Rodya not to come? Yesterday he insisted +so earnestly on our refusing Pyotr Petrovitch and now we are ordered not +to receive Rodya! He will come on purpose if he knows, and... what will +happen then?” + +“Act on Avdotya Romanovna’s decision,” Razumihin answered calmly at +once. + +“Oh, dear me! She says... goodness knows what she says, she doesn’t +explain her object! She says that it would be best, at least, not that +it would be best, but that it’s absolutely necessary that Rodya should +make a point of being here at eight o’clock and that they must meet.... +I didn’t want even to show him the letter, but to prevent him +from coming by some stratagem with your help... because he is so +irritable.... Besides I don’t understand about that drunkard who died +and that daughter, and how he could have given the daughter all the +money... which...” + +“Which cost you such sacrifice, mother,” put in Avdotya Romanovna. + +“He was not himself yesterday,” Razumihin said thoughtfully, “if you +only knew what he was up to in a restaurant yesterday, though there +was sense in it too.... Hm! He did say something, as we were going home +yesterday evening, about a dead man and a girl, but I didn’t understand +a word.... But last night, I myself...” + +“The best thing, mother, will be for us to go to him ourselves and +there I assure you we shall see at once what’s to be done. Besides, +it’s getting late--good heavens, it’s past ten,” she cried looking at +a splendid gold enamelled watch which hung round her neck on a thin +Venetian chain, and looked entirely out of keeping with the rest of her +dress. “A present from her _fiancé_,” thought Razumihin. + +“We must start, Dounia, we must start,” her mother cried in a flutter. +“He will be thinking we are still angry after yesterday, from our coming +so late. Merciful heavens!” + +While she said this she was hurriedly putting on her hat and mantle; +Dounia, too, put on her things. Her gloves, as Razumihin noticed, were +not merely shabby but had holes in them, and yet this evident poverty +gave the two ladies an air of special dignity, which is always found in +people who know how to wear poor clothes. Razumihin looked reverently +at Dounia and felt proud of escorting her. “The queen who mended her +stockings in prison,” he thought, “must have looked then every inch a +queen and even more a queen than at sumptuous banquets and levées.” + +“My God!” exclaimed Pulcheria Alexandrovna, “little did I think that I +should ever fear seeing my son, my darling, darling Rodya! I am afraid, +Dmitri Prokofitch,” she added, glancing at him timidly. + +“Don’t be afraid, mother,” said Dounia, kissing her, “better have faith +in him.” + +“Oh, dear, I have faith in him, but I haven’t slept all night,” + exclaimed the poor woman. + +They came out into the street. + +“Do you know, Dounia, when I dozed a little this morning I dreamed of +Marfa Petrovna... she was all in white... she came up to me, took +my hand, and shook her head at me, but so sternly as though she were +blaming me.... Is that a good omen? Oh, dear me! You don’t know, Dmitri +Prokofitch, that Marfa Petrovna’s dead!” + +“No, I didn’t know; who is Marfa Petrovna?” + +“She died suddenly; and only fancy...” + +“Afterwards, mamma,” put in Dounia. “He doesn’t know who Marfa Petrovna +is.” + +“Ah, you don’t know? And I was thinking that you knew all about us. +Forgive me, Dmitri Prokofitch, I don’t know what I am thinking about +these last few days. I look upon you really as a providence for us, and +so I took it for granted that you knew all about us. I look on you as a +relation.... Don’t be angry with me for saying so. Dear me, what’s the +matter with your right hand? Have you knocked it?” + +“Yes, I bruised it,” muttered Razumihin overjoyed. + +“I sometimes speak too much from the heart, so that Dounia finds fault +with me.... But, dear me, what a cupboard he lives in! I wonder whether +he is awake? Does this woman, his landlady, consider it a room? Listen, +you say he does not like to show his feelings, so perhaps I shall annoy +him with my... weaknesses? Do advise me, Dmitri Prokofitch, how am I to +treat him? I feel quite distracted, you know.” + +“Don’t question him too much about anything if you see him frown; don’t +ask him too much about his health; he doesn’t like that.” + +“Ah, Dmitri Prokofitch, how hard it is to be a mother! But here are the +stairs.... What an awful staircase!” + +“Mother, you are quite pale, don’t distress yourself, darling,” said +Dounia caressing her, then with flashing eyes she added: “He ought to be +happy at seeing you, and you are tormenting yourself so.” + +“Wait, I’ll peep in and see whether he has waked up.” + +The ladies slowly followed Razumihin, who went on before, and when they +reached the landlady’s door on the fourth storey, they noticed that her +door was a tiny crack open and that two keen black eyes were watching +them from the darkness within. When their eyes met, the door was +suddenly shut with such a slam that Pulcheria Alexandrovna almost cried +out. + + + +CHAPTER III + +“He is well, quite well!” Zossimov cried cheerfully as they entered. + +He had come in ten minutes earlier and was sitting in the same place +as before, on the sofa. Raskolnikov was sitting in the opposite corner, +fully dressed and carefully washed and combed, as he had not been for +some time past. The room was immediately crowded, yet Nastasya managed +to follow the visitors in and stayed to listen. + +Raskolnikov really was almost well, as compared with his condition the +day before, but he was still pale, listless, and sombre. He looked like +a wounded man or one who has undergone some terrible physical suffering. +His brows were knitted, his lips compressed, his eyes feverish. He spoke +little and reluctantly, as though performing a duty, and there was a +restlessness in his movements. + +He only wanted a sling on his arm or a bandage on his finger to complete +the impression of a man with a painful abscess or a broken arm. The +pale, sombre face lighted up for a moment when his mother and sister +entered, but this only gave it a look of more intense suffering, in +place of its listless dejection. The light soon died away, but the look +of suffering remained, and Zossimov, watching and studying his patient +with all the zest of a young doctor beginning to practise, noticed +in him no joy at the arrival of his mother and sister, but a sort of +bitter, hidden determination to bear another hour or two of inevitable +torture. He saw later that almost every word of the following +conversation seemed to touch on some sore place and irritate it. But +at the same time he marvelled at the power of controlling himself +and hiding his feelings in a patient who the previous day had, like a +monomaniac, fallen into a frenzy at the slightest word. + +“Yes, I see myself now that I am almost well,” said Raskolnikov, +giving his mother and sister a kiss of welcome which made Pulcheria +Alexandrovna radiant at once. “And I don’t say this _as I did +yesterday_,” he said, addressing Razumihin, with a friendly pressure of +his hand. + +“Yes, indeed, I am quite surprised at him to-day,” began Zossimov, much +delighted at the ladies’ entrance, for he had not succeeded in keeping +up a conversation with his patient for ten minutes. “In another three or +four days, if he goes on like this, he will be just as before, that is, +as he was a month ago, or two... or perhaps even three. This has been +coming on for a long while.... eh? Confess, now, that it has been +perhaps your own fault?” he added, with a tentative smile, as though +still afraid of irritating him. + +“It is very possible,” answered Raskolnikov coldly. + +“I should say, too,” continued Zossimov with zest, “that your complete +recovery depends solely on yourself. Now that one can talk to you, +I should like to impress upon you that it is essential to avoid the +elementary, so to speak, fundamental causes tending to produce your +morbid condition: in that case you will be cured, if not, it will go +from bad to worse. These fundamental causes I don’t know, but they must +be known to you. You are an intelligent man, and must have observed +yourself, of course. I fancy the first stage of your derangement +coincides with your leaving the university. You must not be left without +occupation, and so, work and a definite aim set before you might, I +fancy, be very beneficial.” + +“Yes, yes; you are perfectly right.... I will make haste and return to +the university: and then everything will go smoothly....” + +Zossimov, who had begun his sage advice partly to make an effect before +the ladies, was certainly somewhat mystified, when, glancing at his +patient, he observed unmistakable mockery on his face. This lasted +an instant, however. Pulcheria Alexandrovna began at once thanking +Zossimov, especially for his visit to their lodging the previous night. + +“What! he saw you last night?” Raskolnikov asked, as though startled. +“Then you have not slept either after your journey.” + +“Ach, Rodya, that was only till two o’clock. Dounia and I never go to +bed before two at home.” + +“I don’t know how to thank him either,” Raskolnikov went on, +suddenly frowning and looking down. “Setting aside the question of +payment--forgive me for referring to it (he turned to Zossimov)--I +really don’t know what I have done to deserve such special attention +from you! I simply don’t understand it... and... and... it weighs upon +me, indeed, because I don’t understand it. I tell you so candidly.” + +“Don’t be irritated.” Zossimov forced himself to laugh. “Assume that you +are my first patient--well--we fellows just beginning to practise love +our first patients as if they were our children, and some almost fall in +love with them. And, of course, I am not rich in patients.” + +“I say nothing about him,” added Raskolnikov, pointing to Razumihin, +“though he has had nothing from me either but insult and trouble.” + +“What nonsense he is talking! Why, you are in a sentimental mood to-day, +are you?” shouted Razumihin. + +If he had had more penetration he would have seen that there was no +trace of sentimentality in him, but something indeed quite the opposite. +But Avdotya Romanovna noticed it. She was intently and uneasily watching +her brother. + +“As for you, mother, I don’t dare to speak,” he went on, as though +repeating a lesson learned by heart. “It is only to-day that I have +been able to realise a little how distressed you must have been here +yesterday, waiting for me to come back.” + +When he had said this, he suddenly held out his hand to his sister, +smiling without a word. But in this smile there was a flash of real +unfeigned feeling. Dounia caught it at once, and warmly pressed his +hand, overjoyed and thankful. It was the first time he had addressed her +since their dispute the previous day. The mother’s face lighted up +with ecstatic happiness at the sight of this conclusive unspoken +reconciliation. “Yes, that is what I love him for,” Razumihin, +exaggerating it all, muttered to himself, with a vigorous turn in his +chair. “He has these movements.” + +“And how well he does it all,” the mother was thinking to herself. “What +generous impulses he has, and how simply, how delicately he put an end +to all the misunderstanding with his sister--simply by holding out his +hand at the right minute and looking at her like that.... And what +fine eyes he has, and how fine his whole face is!... He is even better +looking than Dounia.... But, good heavens, what a suit--how terribly +he’s dressed!... Vasya, the messenger boy in Afanasy Ivanitch’s shop, is +better dressed! I could rush at him and hug him... weep over him--but +I am afraid.... Oh, dear, he’s so strange! He’s talking kindly, but I’m +afraid! Why, what am I afraid of?...” + +“Oh, Rodya, you wouldn’t believe,” she began suddenly, in haste to +answer his words to her, “how unhappy Dounia and I were yesterday! Now +that it’s all over and done with and we are quite happy again--I can +tell you. Fancy, we ran here almost straight from the train to embrace +you and that woman--ah, here she is! Good morning, Nastasya!... She told +us at once that you were lying in a high fever and had just run away +from the doctor in delirium, and they were looking for you in the +streets. You can’t imagine how we felt! I couldn’t help thinking of the +tragic end of Lieutenant Potanchikov, a friend of your father’s--you +can’t remember him, Rodya--who ran out in the same way in a high fever +and fell into the well in the court-yard and they couldn’t pull him out +till next day. Of course, we exaggerated things. We were on the point of +rushing to find Pyotr Petrovitch to ask him to help.... Because we were +alone, utterly alone,” she said plaintively and stopped short, +suddenly, recollecting it was still somewhat dangerous to speak of Pyotr +Petrovitch, although “we are quite happy again.” + +“Yes, yes.... Of course it’s very annoying....” Raskolnikov muttered in +reply, but with such a preoccupied and inattentive air that Dounia gazed +at him in perplexity. + +“What else was it I wanted to say?” He went on trying to recollect. “Oh, +yes; mother, and you too, Dounia, please don’t think that I didn’t mean +to come and see you to-day and was waiting for you to come first.” + +“What are you saying, Rodya?” cried Pulcheria Alexandrovna. She, too, +was surprised. + +“Is he answering us as a duty?” Dounia wondered. “Is he being reconciled +and asking forgiveness as though he were performing a rite or repeating +a lesson?” + +“I’ve only just waked up, and wanted to go to you, but was delayed owing +to my clothes; I forgot yesterday to ask her... Nastasya... to wash out +the blood... I’ve only just dressed.” + +“Blood! What blood?” Pulcheria Alexandrovna asked in alarm. + +“Oh, nothing--don’t be uneasy. It was when I was wandering about +yesterday, rather delirious, I chanced upon a man who had been run +over... a clerk...” + +“Delirious? But you remember everything!” Razumihin interrupted. + +“That’s true,” Raskolnikov answered with special carefulness. “I +remember everything even to the slightest detail, and yet--why I did +that and went there and said that, I can’t clearly explain now.” + +“A familiar phenomenon,” interposed Zossimov, “actions are sometimes +performed in a masterly and most cunning way, while the direction of the +actions is deranged and dependent on various morbid impressions--it’s +like a dream.” + +“Perhaps it’s a good thing really that he should think me almost a +madman,” thought Raskolnikov. + +“Why, people in perfect health act in the same way too,” observed +Dounia, looking uneasily at Zossimov. + +“There is some truth in your observation,” the latter replied. “In that +sense we are certainly all not infrequently like madmen, but with the +slight difference that the deranged are somewhat madder, for we +must draw a line. A normal man, it is true, hardly exists. Among +dozens--perhaps hundreds of thousands--hardly one is to be met with.” + +At the word “madman,” carelessly dropped by Zossimov in his chatter on +his favourite subject, everyone frowned. + +Raskolnikov sat seeming not to pay attention, plunged in thought with a +strange smile on his pale lips. He was still meditating on something. + +“Well, what about the man who was run over? I interrupted you!” + Razumihin cried hastily. + +“What?” Raskolnikov seemed to wake up. “Oh... I got spattered with +blood helping to carry him to his lodging. By the way, mamma, I did an +unpardonable thing yesterday. I was literally out of my mind. I gave +away all the money you sent me... to his wife for the funeral. She’s +a widow now, in consumption, a poor creature... three little children, +starving... nothing in the house... there’s a daughter, too... perhaps +you’d have given it yourself if you’d seen them. But I had no right to +do it I admit, especially as I knew how you needed the money yourself. +To help others one must have the right to do it, or else _Crevez, +chiens, si vous n’êtes pas contents_.” He laughed, “That’s right, isn’t +it, Dounia?” + +“No, it’s not,” answered Dounia firmly. + +“Bah! you, too, have ideals,” he muttered, looking at her almost with +hatred, and smiling sarcastically. “I ought to have considered that.... +Well, that’s praiseworthy, and it’s better for you... and if you reach a +line you won’t overstep, you will be unhappy... and if you overstep it, +maybe you will be still unhappier.... But all that’s nonsense,” he added +irritably, vexed at being carried away. “I only meant to say that I beg +your forgiveness, mother,” he concluded, shortly and abruptly. + +“That’s enough, Rodya, I am sure that everything you do is very good,” + said his mother, delighted. + +“Don’t be too sure,” he answered, twisting his mouth into a smile. + +A silence followed. There was a certain constraint in all this +conversation, and in the silence, and in the reconciliation, and in the +forgiveness, and all were feeling it. + +“It is as though they were afraid of me,” Raskolnikov was thinking +to himself, looking askance at his mother and sister. Pulcheria +Alexandrovna was indeed growing more timid the longer she kept silent. + +“Yet in their absence I seemed to love them so much,” flashed through +his mind. + +“Do you know, Rodya, Marfa Petrovna is dead,” Pulcheria Alexandrovna +suddenly blurted out. + +“What Marfa Petrovna?” + +“Oh, mercy on us--Marfa Petrovna Svidrigaïlov. I wrote you so much about +her.” + +“A-a-h! Yes, I remember.... So she’s dead! Oh, really?” he roused +himself suddenly, as if waking up. “What did she die of?” + +“Only imagine, quite suddenly,” Pulcheria Alexandrovna answered +hurriedly, encouraged by his curiosity. “On the very day I was sending +you that letter! Would you believe it, that awful man seems to have been +the cause of her death. They say he beat her dreadfully.” + +“Why, were they on such bad terms?” he asked, addressing his sister. + +“Not at all. Quite the contrary indeed. With her, he was always very +patient, considerate even. In fact, all those seven years of their +married life he gave way to her, too much so indeed, in many cases. All +of a sudden he seems to have lost patience.” + +“Then he could not have been so awful if he controlled himself for seven +years? You seem to be defending him, Dounia?” + +“No, no, he’s an awful man! I can imagine nothing more awful!” Dounia +answered, almost with a shudder, knitting her brows, and sinking into +thought. + +“That had happened in the morning,” Pulcheria Alexandrovna went on +hurriedly. “And directly afterwards she ordered the horses to be +harnessed to drive to the town immediately after dinner. She always used +to drive to the town in such cases. She ate a very good dinner, I am +told....” + +“After the beating?” + +“That was always her... habit; and immediately after dinner, so as not +to be late in starting, she went to the bath-house.... You see, she was +undergoing some treatment with baths. They have a cold spring there, and +she used to bathe in it regularly every day, and no sooner had she got +into the water when she suddenly had a stroke!” + +“I should think so,” said Zossimov. + +“And did he beat her badly?” + +“What does that matter!” put in Dounia. + +“H’m! But I don’t know why you want to tell us such gossip, mother,” + said Raskolnikov irritably, as it were in spite of himself. + +“Ah, my dear, I don’t know what to talk about,” broke from Pulcheria +Alexandrovna. + +“Why, are you all afraid of me?” he asked, with a constrained smile. + +“That’s certainly true,” said Dounia, looking directly and sternly at +her brother. “Mother was crossing herself with terror as she came up the +stairs.” + +His face worked, as though in convulsion. + +“Ach, what are you saying, Dounia! Don’t be angry, please, Rodya.... +Why did you say that, Dounia?” Pulcheria Alexandrovna began, +overwhelmed--“You see, coming here, I was dreaming all the way, in the +train, how we should meet, how we should talk over everything +together.... And I was so happy, I did not notice the journey! But what +am I saying? I am happy now.... You should not, Dounia.... I am happy +now--simply in seeing you, Rodya....” + +“Hush, mother,” he muttered in confusion, not looking at her, but +pressing her hand. “We shall have time to speak freely of everything!” + +As he said this, he was suddenly overwhelmed with confusion and turned +pale. Again that awful sensation he had known of late passed with deadly +chill over his soul. Again it became suddenly plain and perceptible to +him that he had just told a fearful lie--that he would never now be +able to speak freely of everything--that he would never again be able to +_speak_ of anything to anyone. The anguish of this thought was such that +for a moment he almost forgot himself. He got up from his seat, and not +looking at anyone walked towards the door. + +“What are you about?” cried Razumihin, clutching him by the arm. + +He sat down again, and began looking about him, in silence. They were +all looking at him in perplexity. + +“But what are you all so dull for?” he shouted, suddenly and quite +unexpectedly. “Do say something! What’s the use of sitting like this? +Come, do speak. Let us talk.... We meet together and sit in silence.... +Come, anything!” + +“Thank God; I was afraid the same thing as yesterday was beginning +again,” said Pulcheria Alexandrovna, crossing herself. + +“What is the matter, Rodya?” asked Avdotya Romanovna, distrustfully. + +“Oh, nothing! I remembered something,” he answered, and suddenly +laughed. + +“Well, if you remembered something; that’s all right!... I was beginning +to think...” muttered Zossimov, getting up from the sofa. “It is time +for me to be off. I will look in again perhaps... if I can...” He made +his bows, and went out. + +“What an excellent man!” observed Pulcheria Alexandrovna. + +“Yes, excellent, splendid, well-educated, intelligent,” Raskolnikov +began, suddenly speaking with surprising rapidity, and a liveliness he +had not shown till then. “I can’t remember where I met him before my +illness.... I believe I have met him somewhere----... And this is a good +man, too,” he nodded at Razumihin. “Do you like him, Dounia?” he asked +her; and suddenly, for some unknown reason, laughed. + +“Very much,” answered Dounia. + +“Foo!--what a pig you are!” Razumihin protested, blushing in terrible +confusion, and he got up from his chair. Pulcheria Alexandrovna smiled +faintly, but Raskolnikov laughed aloud. + +“Where are you off to?” + +“I must go.” + +“You need not at all. Stay. Zossimov has gone, so you must. Don’t go. +What’s the time? Is it twelve o’clock? What a pretty watch you have got, +Dounia. But why are you all silent again? I do all the talking.” + +“It was a present from Marfa Petrovna,” answered Dounia. + +“And a very expensive one!” added Pulcheria Alexandrovna. + +“A-ah! What a big one! Hardly like a lady’s.” + +“I like that sort,” said Dounia. + +“So it is not a present from her _fiancé_,” thought Razumihin, and was +unreasonably delighted. + +“I thought it was Luzhin’s present,” observed Raskolnikov. + +“No, he has not made Dounia any presents yet.” + +“A-ah! And do you remember, mother, I was in love and wanted to get +married?” he said suddenly, looking at his mother, who was disconcerted +by the sudden change of subject and the way he spoke of it. + +“Oh, yes, my dear.” + +Pulcheria Alexandrovna exchanged glances with Dounia and Razumihin. + +“H’m, yes. What shall I tell you? I don’t remember much indeed. She was +such a sickly girl,” he went on, growing dreamy and looking down again. +“Quite an invalid. She was fond of giving alms to the poor, and was +always dreaming of a nunnery, and once she burst into tears when she +began talking to me about it. Yes, yes, I remember. I remember very +well. She was an ugly little thing. I really don’t know what drew me +to her then--I think it was because she was always ill. If she had been +lame or hunchback, I believe I should have liked her better still,” he +smiled dreamily. “Yes, it was a sort of spring delirium.” + +“No, it was not only spring delirium,” said Dounia, with warm feeling. + +He fixed a strained intent look on his sister, but did not hear or did +not understand her words. Then, completely lost in thought, he got up, +went up to his mother, kissed her, went back to his place and sat down. + +“You love her even now?” said Pulcheria Alexandrovna, touched. + +“Her? Now? Oh, yes.... You ask about her? No... that’s all now, as +it were, in another world... and so long ago. And indeed everything +happening here seems somehow far away.” He looked attentively at them. +“You, now... I seem to be looking at you from a thousand miles away... +but, goodness knows why we are talking of that! And what’s the use of +asking about it?” he added with annoyance, and biting his nails, fell +into dreamy silence again. + +“What a wretched lodging you have, Rodya! It’s like a tomb,” said +Pulcheria Alexandrovna, suddenly breaking the oppressive silence. “I +am sure it’s quite half through your lodging you have become so +melancholy.” + +“My lodging,” he answered, listlessly. “Yes, the lodging had a great +deal to do with it.... I thought that, too.... If only you knew, though, +what a strange thing you said just now, mother,” he said, laughing +strangely. + +A little more, and their companionship, this mother and this sister, +with him after three years’ absence, this intimate tone of conversation, +in face of the utter impossibility of really speaking about anything, +would have been beyond his power of endurance. But there was one urgent +matter which must be settled one way or the other that day--so he had +decided when he woke. Now he was glad to remember it, as a means of +escape. + +“Listen, Dounia,” he began, gravely and drily, “of course I beg your +pardon for yesterday, but I consider it my duty to tell you again that +I do not withdraw from my chief point. It is me or Luzhin. If I am a +scoundrel, you must not be. One is enough. If you marry Luzhin, I cease +at once to look on you as a sister.” + +“Rodya, Rodya! It is the same as yesterday again,” Pulcheria +Alexandrovna cried, mournfully. “And why do you call yourself a +scoundrel? I can’t bear it. You said the same yesterday.” + +“Brother,” Dounia answered firmly and with the same dryness. “In all +this there is a mistake on your part. I thought it over at night, +and found out the mistake. It is all because you seem to fancy I am +sacrificing myself to someone and for someone. That is not the case at +all. I am simply marrying for my own sake, because things are hard for +me. Though, of course, I shall be glad if I succeed in being useful to +my family. But that is not the chief motive for my decision....” + +“She is lying,” he thought to himself, biting his nails vindictively. +“Proud creature! She won’t admit she wants to do it out of charity! Too +haughty! Oh, base characters! They even love as though they hate.... Oh, +how I... hate them all!” + +“In fact,” continued Dounia, “I am marrying Pyotr Petrovitch because of +two evils I choose the less. I intend to do honestly all he expects of +me, so I am not deceiving him.... Why did you smile just now?” She, too, +flushed, and there was a gleam of anger in her eyes. + +“All?” he asked, with a malignant grin. + +“Within certain limits. Both the manner and form of Pyotr Petrovitch’s +courtship showed me at once what he wanted. He may, of course, think too +well of himself, but I hope he esteems me, too.... Why are you laughing +again?” + +“And why are you blushing again? You are lying, sister. You are +intentionally lying, simply from feminine obstinacy, simply to hold your +own against me.... You cannot respect Luzhin. I have seen him and talked +with him. So you are selling yourself for money, and so in any case you +are acting basely, and I am glad at least that you can blush for it.” + +“It is not true. I am not lying,” cried Dounia, losing her composure. +“I would not marry him if I were not convinced that he esteems me +and thinks highly of me. I would not marry him if I were not firmly +convinced that I can respect him. Fortunately, I can have convincing +proof of it this very day... and such a marriage is not a vileness, as +you say! And even if you were right, if I really had determined on a +vile action, is it not merciless on your part to speak to me like that? +Why do you demand of me a heroism that perhaps you have not either? It +is despotism; it is tyranny. If I ruin anyone, it is only myself.... I +am not committing a murder. Why do you look at me like that? Why are you +so pale? Rodya, darling, what’s the matter?” + +“Good heavens! You have made him faint,” cried Pulcheria Alexandrovna. + +“No, no, nonsense! It’s nothing. A little giddiness--not fainting. You +have fainting on the brain. H’m, yes, what was I saying? Oh, yes. In +what way will you get convincing proof to-day that you can respect him, +and that he... esteems you, as you said. I think you said to-day?” + +“Mother, show Rodya Pyotr Petrovitch’s letter,” said Dounia. + +With trembling hands, Pulcheria Alexandrovna gave him the letter. He +took it with great interest, but, before opening it, he suddenly looked +with a sort of wonder at Dounia. + +“It is strange,” he said, slowly, as though struck by a new idea. “What +am I making such a fuss for? What is it all about? Marry whom you like!” + +He said this as though to himself, but said it aloud, and looked for +some time at his sister, as though puzzled. He opened the letter at +last, still with the same look of strange wonder on his face. Then, +slowly and attentively, he began reading, and read it through twice. +Pulcheria Alexandrovna showed marked anxiety, and all indeed expected +something particular. + +“What surprises me,” he began, after a short pause, handing the letter +to his mother, but not addressing anyone in particular, “is that he is a +business man, a lawyer, and his conversation is pretentious indeed, and +yet he writes such an uneducated letter.” + +They all started. They had expected something quite different. + +“But they all write like that, you know,” Razumihin observed, abruptly. + +“Have you read it?” + +“Yes.” + +“We showed him, Rodya. We... consulted him just now,” Pulcheria +Alexandrovna began, embarrassed. + +“That’s just the jargon of the courts,” Razumihin put in. “Legal +documents are written like that to this day.” + +“Legal? Yes, it’s just legal--business language--not so very uneducated, +and not quite educated--business language!” + +“Pyotr Petrovitch makes no secret of the fact that he had a cheap +education, he is proud indeed of having made his own way,” Avdotya +Romanovna observed, somewhat offended by her brother’s tone. + +“Well, if he’s proud of it, he has reason, I don’t deny it. You seem to +be offended, sister, at my making only such a frivolous criticism on the +letter, and to think that I speak of such trifling matters on purpose to +annoy you. It is quite the contrary, an observation apropos of the style +occurred to me that is by no means irrelevant as things stand. There +is one expression, ‘blame yourselves’ put in very significantly and +plainly, and there is besides a threat that he will go away at once if I +am present. That threat to go away is equivalent to a threat to abandon +you both if you are disobedient, and to abandon you now after summoning +you to Petersburg. Well, what do you think? Can one resent such an +expression from Luzhin, as we should if he (he pointed to Razumihin) had +written it, or Zossimov, or one of us?” + +“N-no,” answered Dounia, with more animation. “I saw clearly that it +was too naïvely expressed, and that perhaps he simply has no skill +in writing... that is a true criticism, brother. I did not expect, +indeed...” + +“It is expressed in legal style, and sounds coarser than perhaps he +intended. But I must disillusion you a little. There is one expression +in the letter, one slander about me, and rather a contemptible one. I +gave the money last night to the widow, a woman in consumption, crushed +with trouble, and not ‘on the pretext of the funeral,’ but simply to pay +for the funeral, and not to the daughter--a young woman, as he writes, +of notorious behaviour (whom I saw last night for the first time in my +life)--but to the widow. In all this I see a too hasty desire to slander +me and to raise dissension between us. It is expressed again in legal +jargon, that is to say, with a too obvious display of the aim, and +with a very naïve eagerness. He is a man of intelligence, but to act +sensibly, intelligence is not enough. It all shows the man and... I +don’t think he has a great esteem for you. I tell you this simply to +warn you, because I sincerely wish for your good...” + +Dounia did not reply. Her resolution had been taken. She was only +awaiting the evening. + +“Then what is your decision, Rodya?” asked Pulcheria Alexandrovna, who +was more uneasy than ever at the sudden, new businesslike tone of his +talk. + +“What decision?” + +“You see Pyotr Petrovitch writes that you are not to be with us this +evening, and that he will go away if you come. So will you... come?” + +“That, of course, is not for me to decide, but for you first, if you are +not offended by such a request; and secondly, by Dounia, if she, too, is +not offended. I will do what you think best,” he added, drily. + +“Dounia has already decided, and I fully agree with her,” Pulcheria +Alexandrovna hastened to declare. + +“I decided to ask you, Rodya, to urge you not to fail to be with us at +this interview,” said Dounia. “Will you come?” + +“Yes.” + +“I will ask you, too, to be with us at eight o’clock,” she said, +addressing Razumihin. “Mother, I am inviting him, too.” + +“Quite right, Dounia. Well, since you have decided,” added Pulcheria +Alexandrovna, “so be it. I shall feel easier myself. I do not like +concealment and deception. Better let us have the whole truth.... Pyotr +Petrovitch may be angry or not, now!” + + + +CHAPTER IV + +At that moment the door was softly opened, and a young girl walked into +the room, looking timidly about her. Everyone turned towards her with +surprise and curiosity. At first sight, Raskolnikov did not recognise +her. It was Sofya Semyonovna Marmeladov. He had seen her yesterday for +the first time, but at such a moment, in such surroundings and in such +a dress, that his memory retained a very different image of her. Now she +was a modestly and poorly-dressed young girl, very young, indeed, +almost like a child, with a modest and refined manner, with a candid but +somewhat frightened-looking face. She was wearing a very plain indoor +dress, and had on a shabby old-fashioned hat, but she still carried a +parasol. Unexpectedly finding the room full of people, she was not so +much embarrassed as completely overwhelmed with shyness, like a +little child. She was even about to retreat. “Oh... it’s you!” said +Raskolnikov, extremely astonished, and he, too, was confused. He at once +recollected that his mother and sister knew through Luzhin’s letter +of “some young woman of notorious behaviour.” He had only just been +protesting against Luzhin’s calumny and declaring that he had seen the +girl last night for the first time, and suddenly she had walked in. He +remembered, too, that he had not protested against the expression “of +notorious behaviour.” All this passed vaguely and fleetingly through +his brain, but looking at her more intently, he saw that the humiliated +creature was so humiliated that he felt suddenly sorry for her. When she +made a movement to retreat in terror, it sent a pang to his heart. + +“I did not expect you,” he said, hurriedly, with a look that made her +stop. “Please sit down. You come, no doubt, from Katerina Ivanovna. +Allow me--not there. Sit here....” + +At Sonia’s entrance, Razumihin, who had been sitting on one of +Raskolnikov’s three chairs, close to the door, got up to allow her to +enter. Raskolnikov had at first shown her the place on the sofa where +Zossimov had been sitting, but feeling that the sofa which served him +as a bed, was too _familiar_ a place, he hurriedly motioned her to +Razumihin’s chair. + +“You sit here,” he said to Razumihin, putting him on the sofa. + +Sonia sat down, almost shaking with terror, and looked timidly at the +two ladies. It was evidently almost inconceivable to herself that she +could sit down beside them. At the thought of it, she was so frightened +that she hurriedly got up again, and in utter confusion addressed +Raskolnikov. + +“I... I... have come for one minute. Forgive me for disturbing you,” she +began falteringly. “I come from Katerina Ivanovna, and she had no one to +send. Katerina Ivanovna told me to beg you... to be at the service... in +the morning... at Mitrofanievsky... and then... to us... to her... +to do her the honour... she told me to beg you...” Sonia stammered and +ceased speaking. + +“I will try, certainly, most certainly,” answered Raskolnikov. He, +too, stood up, and he, too, faltered and could not finish his sentence. +“Please sit down,” he said, suddenly. “I want to talk to you. You are +perhaps in a hurry, but please, be so kind, spare me two minutes,” and +he drew up a chair for her. + +Sonia sat down again, and again timidly she took a hurried, frightened +look at the two ladies, and dropped her eyes. Raskolnikov’s pale face +flushed, a shudder passed over him, his eyes glowed. + +“Mother,” he said, firmly and insistently, “this is Sofya Semyonovna +Marmeladov, the daughter of that unfortunate Mr. Marmeladov, who was run +over yesterday before my eyes, and of whom I was just telling you.” + +Pulcheria Alexandrovna glanced at Sonia, and slightly screwed up +her eyes. In spite of her embarrassment before Rodya’s urgent and +challenging look, she could not deny herself that satisfaction. Dounia +gazed gravely and intently into the poor girl’s face, and scrutinised +her with perplexity. Sonia, hearing herself introduced, tried to raise +her eyes again, but was more embarrassed than ever. + +“I wanted to ask you,” said Raskolnikov, hastily, “how things were +arranged yesterday. You were not worried by the police, for instance?” + +“No, that was all right... it was too evident, the cause of death... +they did not worry us... only the lodgers are angry.” + +“Why?” + +“At the body’s remaining so long. You see it is hot now. So that, +to-day, they will carry it to the cemetery, into the chapel, until +to-morrow. At first Katerina Ivanovna was unwilling, but now she sees +herself that it’s necessary...” + +“To-day, then?” + +“She begs you to do us the honour to be in the church to-morrow for the +service, and then to be present at the funeral lunch.” + +“She is giving a funeral lunch?” + +“Yes... just a little.... She told me to thank you very much for helping +us yesterday. But for you, we should have had nothing for the funeral.” + +All at once her lips and chin began trembling, but, with an effort, she +controlled herself, looking down again. + +During the conversation, Raskolnikov watched her carefully. She had a +thin, very thin, pale little face, rather irregular and angular, with a +sharp little nose and chin. She could not have been called pretty, but +her blue eyes were so clear, and when they lighted up, there was such +a kindliness and simplicity in her expression that one could not help +being attracted. Her face, and her whole figure indeed, had another +peculiar characteristic. In spite of her eighteen years, she looked +almost a little girl--almost a child. And in some of her gestures, this +childishness seemed almost absurd. + +“But has Katerina Ivanovna been able to manage with such small means? +Does she even mean to have a funeral lunch?” Raskolnikov asked, +persistently keeping up the conversation. + +“The coffin will be plain, of course... and everything will be plain, so +it won’t cost much. Katerina Ivanovna and I have reckoned it all out, so +that there will be enough left... and Katerina Ivanovna was very anxious +it should be so. You know one can’t... it’s a comfort to her... she is +like that, you know....” + +“I understand, I understand... of course... why do you look at my room +like that? My mother has just said it is like a tomb.” + +“You gave us everything yesterday,” Sonia said suddenly, in reply, in a +loud rapid whisper; and again she looked down in confusion. Her lips +and chin were trembling once more. She had been struck at once +by Raskolnikov’s poor surroundings, and now these words broke out +spontaneously. A silence followed. There was a light in Dounia’s eyes, +and even Pulcheria Alexandrovna looked kindly at Sonia. + +“Rodya,” she said, getting up, “we shall have dinner together, of +course. Come, Dounia.... And you, Rodya, had better go for a little +walk, and then rest and lie down before you come to see us.... I am +afraid we have exhausted you....” + +“Yes, yes, I’ll come,” he answered, getting up fussily. “But I have +something to see to.” + +“But surely you will have dinner together?” cried Razumihin, looking in +surprise at Raskolnikov. “What do you mean?” + +“Yes, yes, I am coming... of course, of course! And you stay a minute. +You do not want him just now, do you, mother? Or perhaps I am taking him +from you?” + +“Oh, no, no. And will you, Dmitri Prokofitch, do us the favour of dining +with us?” + +“Please do,” added Dounia. + +Razumihin bowed, positively radiant. For one moment, they were all +strangely embarrassed. + +“Good-bye, Rodya, that is till we meet. I do not like saying good-bye. +Good-bye, Nastasya. Ah, I have said good-bye again.” + +Pulcheria Alexandrovna meant to greet Sonia, too; but it somehow failed +to come off, and she went in a flutter out of the room. + +But Avdotya Romanovna seemed to await her turn, and following her mother +out, gave Sonia an attentive, courteous bow. Sonia, in confusion, gave +a hurried, frightened curtsy. There was a look of poignant discomfort +in her face, as though Avdotya Romanovna’s courtesy and attention were +oppressive and painful to her. + +“Dounia, good-bye,” called Raskolnikov, in the passage. “Give me your +hand.” + +“Why, I did give it to you. Have you forgotten?” said Dounia, turning +warmly and awkwardly to him. + +“Never mind, give it to me again.” And he squeezed her fingers warmly. + +Dounia smiled, flushed, pulled her hand away, and went off quite happy. + +“Come, that’s capital,” he said to Sonia, going back and looking +brightly at her. “God give peace to the dead, the living have still to +live. That is right, isn’t it?” + +Sonia looked surprised at the sudden brightness of his face. He looked +at her for some moments in silence. The whole history of the dead father +floated before his memory in those moments.... + +***** + +“Heavens, Dounia,” Pulcheria Alexandrovna began, as soon as they were in +the street, “I really feel relieved myself at coming away--more at ease. +How little did I think yesterday in the train that I could ever be glad +of that.” + +“I tell you again, mother, he is still very ill. Don’t you see it? +Perhaps worrying about us upset him. We must be patient, and much, much +can be forgiven.” + +“Well, you were not very patient!” Pulcheria Alexandrovna caught her up, +hotly and jealously. “Do you know, Dounia, I was looking at you two. You +are the very portrait of him, and not so much in face as in soul. You +are both melancholy, both morose and hot-tempered, both haughty and both +generous.... Surely he can’t be an egoist, Dounia. Eh? When I think of +what is in store for us this evening, my heart sinks!” + +“Don’t be uneasy, mother. What must be, will be.” + +“Dounia, only think what a position we are in! What if Pyotr Petrovitch +breaks it off?” poor Pulcheria Alexandrovna blurted out, incautiously. + +“He won’t be worth much if he does,” answered Dounia, sharply and +contemptuously. + +“We did well to come away,” Pulcheria Alexandrovna hurriedly broke in. +“He was in a hurry about some business or other. If he gets out and has +a breath of air... it is fearfully close in his room.... But where is +one to get a breath of air here? The very streets here feel like shut-up +rooms. Good heavens! what a town!... stay... this side... they will +crush you--carrying something. Why, it is a piano they have got, I +declare... how they push!... I am very much afraid of that young woman, +too.” + +“What young woman, mother? + +“Why, that Sofya Semyonovna, who was there just now.” + +“Why?” + +“I have a presentiment, Dounia. Well, you may believe it or not, but +as soon as she came in, that very minute, I felt that she was the chief +cause of the trouble....” + +“Nothing of the sort!” cried Dounia, in vexation. “What nonsense, with +your presentiments, mother! He only made her acquaintance the evening +before, and he did not know her when she came in.” + +“Well, you will see.... She worries me; but you will see, you will +see! I was so frightened. She was gazing at me with those eyes. I could +scarcely sit still in my chair when he began introducing her, do you +remember? It seems so strange, but Pyotr Petrovitch writes like that +about her, and he introduces her to us--to you! So he must think a great +deal of her.” + +“People will write anything. We were talked about and written about, +too. Have you forgotten? I am sure that she is a good girl, and that it +is all nonsense.” + +“God grant it may be!” + +“And Pyotr Petrovitch is a contemptible slanderer,” Dounia snapped out, +suddenly. + +Pulcheria Alexandrovna was crushed; the conversation was not resumed. + +***** + +“I will tell you what I want with you,” said Raskolnikov, drawing +Razumihin to the window. + +“Then I will tell Katerina Ivanovna that you are coming,” Sonia said +hurriedly, preparing to depart. + +“One minute, Sofya Semyonovna. We have no secrets. You are not in our +way. I want to have another word or two with you. Listen!” he turned +suddenly to Razumihin again. “You know that... what’s his name... +Porfiry Petrovitch?” + +“I should think so! He is a relation. Why?” added the latter, with +interest. + +“Is not he managing that case... you know, about that murder?... You +were speaking about it yesterday.” + +“Yes... well?” Razumihin’s eyes opened wide. + +“He was inquiring for people who had pawned things, and I have some +pledges there, too--trifles--a ring my sister gave me as a keepsake when +I left home, and my father’s silver watch--they are only worth five or +six roubles altogether... but I value them. So what am I to do now? I +do not want to lose the things, especially the watch. I was quaking just +now, for fear mother would ask to look at it, when we spoke of Dounia’s +watch. It is the only thing of father’s left us. She would be ill if +it were lost. You know what women are. So tell me what to do. I know I +ought to have given notice at the police station, but would it not be +better to go straight to Porfiry? Eh? What do you think? The matter +might be settled more quickly. You see, mother may ask for it before +dinner.” + +“Certainly not to the police station. Certainly to Porfiry,” Razumihin +shouted in extraordinary excitement. “Well, how glad I am. Let us go at +once. It is a couple of steps. We shall be sure to find him.” + +“Very well, let us go.” + +“And he will be very, very glad to make your acquaintance. I have +often talked to him of you at different times. I was speaking of you +yesterday. Let us go. So you knew the old woman? So that’s it! It is all +turning out splendidly.... Oh, yes, Sofya Ivanovna...” + +“Sofya Semyonovna,” corrected Raskolnikov. “Sofya Semyonovna, this is my +friend Razumihin, and he is a good man.” + +“If you have to go now,” Sonia was beginning, not looking at Razumihin +at all, and still more embarrassed. + +“Let us go,” decided Raskolnikov. “I will come to you to-day, Sofya +Semyonovna. Only tell me where you live.” + +He was not exactly ill at ease, but seemed hurried, and avoided her +eyes. Sonia gave her address, and flushed as she did so. They all went +out together. + +“Don’t you lock up?” asked Razumihin, following him on to the stairs. + +“Never,” answered Raskolnikov. “I have been meaning to buy a lock for +these two years. People are happy who have no need of locks,” he said, +laughing, to Sonia. They stood still in the gateway. + +“Do you go to the right, Sofya Semyonovna? How did you find me, by the +way?” he added, as though he wanted to say something quite different. He +wanted to look at her soft clear eyes, but this was not easy. + +“Why, you gave your address to Polenka yesterday.” + +“Polenka? Oh, yes; Polenka, that is the little girl. She is your sister? +Did I give her the address?” + +“Why, had you forgotten?” + +“No, I remember.” + +“I had heard my father speak of you... only I did not know your name, +and he did not know it. And now I came... and as I had learnt your name, +I asked to-day, ‘Where does Mr. Raskolnikov live?’ I did not know you +had only a room too.... Good-bye, I will tell Katerina Ivanovna.” + +She was extremely glad to escape at last; she went away looking down, +hurrying to get out of sight as soon as possible, to walk the twenty +steps to the turning on the right and to be at last alone, and then +moving rapidly along, looking at no one, noticing nothing, to think, to +remember, to meditate on every word, every detail. Never, never had she +felt anything like this. Dimly and unconsciously a whole new world was +opening before her. She remembered suddenly that Raskolnikov meant to +come to her that day, perhaps at once! + +“Only not to-day, please, not to-day!” she kept muttering with a sinking +heart, as though entreating someone, like a frightened child. “Mercy! to +me... to that room... he will see... oh, dear!” + +She was not capable at that instant of noticing an unknown gentleman who +was watching her and following at her heels. He had accompanied her from +the gateway. At the moment when Razumihin, Raskolnikov, and she stood +still at parting on the pavement, this gentleman, who was just passing, +started on hearing Sonia’s words: “and I asked where Mr. Raskolnikov +lived?” He turned a rapid but attentive look upon all three, especially +upon Raskolnikov, to whom Sonia was speaking; then looked back and noted +the house. All this was done in an instant as he passed, and trying not +to betray his interest, he walked on more slowly as though waiting for +something. He was waiting for Sonia; he saw that they were parting, and +that Sonia was going home. + +“Home? Where? I’ve seen that face somewhere,” he thought. “I must find +out.” + +At the turning he crossed over, looked round, and saw Sonia coming the +same way, noticing nothing. She turned the corner. He followed her on +the other side. After about fifty paces he crossed over again, overtook +her and kept two or three yards behind her. + +He was a man about fifty, rather tall and thickly set, with broad high +shoulders which made him look as though he stooped a little. He wore +good and fashionable clothes, and looked like a gentleman of position. +He carried a handsome cane, which he tapped on the pavement at each +step; his gloves were spotless. He had a broad, rather pleasant face +with high cheek-bones and a fresh colour, not often seen in Petersburg. +His flaxen hair was still abundant, and only touched here and there with +grey, and his thick square beard was even lighter than his hair. +His eyes were blue and had a cold and thoughtful look; his lips were +crimson. He was a remarkedly well-preserved man and looked much younger +than his years. + +When Sonia came out on the canal bank, they were the only two persons on +the pavement. He observed her dreaminess and preoccupation. On reaching +the house where she lodged, Sonia turned in at the gate; he followed +her, seeming rather surprised. In the courtyard she turned to the right +corner. “Bah!” muttered the unknown gentleman, and mounted the stairs +behind her. Only then Sonia noticed him. She reached the third storey, +turned down the passage, and rang at No. 9. On the door was inscribed +in chalk, “Kapernaumov, Tailor.” “Bah!” the stranger repeated again, +wondering at the strange coincidence, and he rang next door, at No. 8. +The doors were two or three yards apart. + +“You lodge at Kapernaumov’s,” he said, looking at Sonia and laughing. +“He altered a waistcoat for me yesterday. I am staying close here at +Madame Resslich’s. How odd!” Sonia looked at him attentively. + +“We are neighbours,” he went on gaily. “I only came to town the day +before yesterday. Good-bye for the present.” + +Sonia made no reply; the door opened and she slipped in. She felt for +some reason ashamed and uneasy. + +***** + +On the way to Porfiry’s, Razumihin was obviously excited. + +“That’s capital, brother,” he repeated several times, “and I am glad! I +am glad!” + +“What are you glad about?” Raskolnikov thought to himself. + +“I didn’t know that you pledged things at the old woman’s, too. And... +was it long ago? I mean, was it long since you were there?” + +“What a simple-hearted fool he is!” + +“When was it?” Raskolnikov stopped still to recollect. “Two or three +days before her death it must have been. But I am not going to redeem +the things now,” he put in with a sort of hurried and conspicuous +solicitude about the things. “I’ve not more than a silver rouble +left... after last night’s accursed delirium!” + +He laid special emphasis on the delirium. + +“Yes, yes,” Razumihin hastened to agree--with what was not clear. “Then +that’s why you... were stuck... partly... you know in your delirium you +were continually mentioning some rings or chains! Yes, yes... that’s +clear, it’s all clear now.” + +“Hullo! How that idea must have got about among them. Here this man will +go to the stake for me, and I find him delighted at having it _cleared +up_ why I spoke of rings in my delirium! What a hold the idea must have +on all of them!” + +“Shall we find him?” he asked suddenly. + +“Oh, yes,” Razumihin answered quickly. “He is a nice fellow, you will +see, brother. Rather clumsy, that is to say, he is a man of polished +manners, but I mean clumsy in a different sense. He is an intelligent +fellow, very much so indeed, but he has his own range of ideas.... He +is incredulous, sceptical, cynical... he likes to impose on people, or +rather to make fun of them. His is the old, circumstantial method.... +But he understands his work... thoroughly.... Last year he cleared up a +case of murder in which the police had hardly a clue. He is very, very +anxious to make your acquaintance!” + +“On what grounds is he so anxious?” + +“Oh, it’s not exactly... you see, since you’ve been ill I happen to have +mentioned you several times.... So, when he heard about you... about +your being a law student and not able to finish your studies, he said, +‘What a pity!’ And so I concluded... from everything together, not only +that; yesterday Zametov... you know, Rodya, I talked some nonsense on +the way home to you yesterday, when I was drunk... I am afraid, brother, +of your exaggerating it, you see.” + +“What? That they think I am a madman? Maybe they are right,” he said +with a constrained smile. + +“Yes, yes.... That is, pooh, no!... But all that I said (and there was +something else too) it was all nonsense, drunken nonsense.” + +“But why are you apologising? I am so sick of it all!” Raskolnikov cried +with exaggerated irritability. It was partly assumed, however. + +“I know, I know, I understand. Believe me, I understand. One’s ashamed +to speak of it.” + +“If you are ashamed, then don’t speak of it.” + +Both were silent. Razumihin was more than ecstatic and Raskolnikov +perceived it with repulsion. He was alarmed, too, by what Razumihin had +just said about Porfiry. + +“I shall have to pull a long face with him too,” he thought, with a +beating heart, and he turned white, “and do it naturally, too. But the +most natural thing would be to do nothing at all. Carefully do nothing +at all! No, _carefully_ would not be natural again.... Oh, well, we +shall see how it turns out.... We shall see... directly. Is it a good +thing to go or not? The butterfly flies to the light. My heart is +beating, that’s what’s bad!” + +“In this grey house,” said Razumihin. + +“The most important thing, does Porfiry know that I was at the old +hag’s flat yesterday... and asked about the blood? I must find that out +instantly, as soon as I go in, find out from his face; otherwise... I’ll +find out, if it’s my ruin.” + +“I say, brother,” he said suddenly, addressing Razumihin, with a sly +smile, “I have been noticing all day that you seem to be curiously +excited. Isn’t it so?” + +“Excited? Not a bit of it,” said Razumihin, stung to the quick. + +“Yes, brother, I assure you it’s noticeable. Why, you sat on your chair +in a way you never do sit, on the edge somehow, and you seemed to be +writhing all the time. You kept jumping up for nothing. One moment you +were angry, and the next your face looked like a sweetmeat. You even +blushed; especially when you were invited to dinner, you blushed +awfully.” + +“Nothing of the sort, nonsense! What do you mean?” + +“But why are you wriggling out of it, like a schoolboy? By Jove, there +he’s blushing again.” + +“What a pig you are!” + +“But why are you so shamefaced about it? Romeo! Stay, I’ll tell of you +to-day. Ha-ha-ha! I’ll make mother laugh, and someone else, too...” + +“Listen, listen, listen, this is serious.... What next, you fiend!” + Razumihin was utterly overwhelmed, turning cold with horror. “What will +you tell them? Come, brother... foo! what a pig you are!” + +“You are like a summer rose. And if only you knew how it suits you; a +Romeo over six foot high! And how you’ve washed to-day--you cleaned your +nails, I declare. Eh? That’s something unheard of! Why, I do believe +you’ve got pomatum on your hair! Bend down.” + +“Pig!” + +Raskolnikov laughed as though he could not restrain himself. So +laughing, they entered Porfiry Petrovitch’s flat. This is what +Raskolnikov wanted: from within they could be heard laughing as they +came in, still guffawing in the passage. + +“Not a word here or I’ll... brain you!” Razumihin whispered furiously, +seizing Raskolnikov by the shoulder. + + + +CHAPTER V + +Raskolnikov was already entering the room. He came in looking as though +he had the utmost difficulty not to burst out laughing again. Behind him +Razumihin strode in gawky and awkward, shamefaced and red as a peony, +with an utterly crestfallen and ferocious expression. His face and +whole figure really were ridiculous at that moment and amply justified +Raskolnikov’s laughter. Raskolnikov, not waiting for an introduction, +bowed to Porfiry Petrovitch, who stood in the middle of the room +looking inquiringly at them. He held out his hand and shook hands, still +apparently making desperate efforts to subdue his mirth and utter a few +words to introduce himself. But he had no sooner succeeded in assuming +a serious air and muttering something when he suddenly glanced again as +though accidentally at Razumihin, and could no longer control himself: +his stifled laughter broke out the more irresistibly the more he tried +to restrain it. The extraordinary ferocity with which Razumihin received +this “spontaneous” mirth gave the whole scene the appearance of most +genuine fun and naturalness. Razumihin strengthened this impression as +though on purpose. + +“Fool! You fiend,” he roared, waving his arm which at once struck a +little round table with an empty tea-glass on it. Everything was sent +flying and crashing. + +“But why break chairs, gentlemen? You know it’s a loss to the Crown,” + Porfiry Petrovitch quoted gaily. + +Raskolnikov was still laughing, with his hand in Porfiry Petrovitch’s, +but anxious not to overdo it, awaited the right moment to put a natural +end to it. Razumihin, completely put to confusion by upsetting the table +and smashing the glass, gazed gloomily at the fragments, cursed and +turned sharply to the window where he stood looking out with his back +to the company with a fiercely scowling countenance, seeing nothing. +Porfiry Petrovitch laughed and was ready to go on laughing, but +obviously looked for explanations. Zametov had been sitting in the +corner, but he rose at the visitors’ entrance and was standing in +expectation with a smile on his lips, though he looked with surprise and +even it seemed incredulity at the whole scene and at Raskolnikov with a +certain embarrassment. Zametov’s unexpected presence struck Raskolnikov +unpleasantly. + +“I’ve got to think of that,” he thought. “Excuse me, please,” he began, +affecting extreme embarrassment. “Raskolnikov.” + +“Not at all, very pleasant to see you... and how pleasantly you’ve come +in.... Why, won’t he even say good-morning?” Porfiry Petrovitch nodded +at Razumihin. + +“Upon my honour I don’t know why he is in such a rage with me. I only +told him as we came along that he was like Romeo... and proved it. And +that was all, I think!” + +“Pig!” ejaculated Razumihin, without turning round. + +“There must have been very grave grounds for it, if he is so furious at +the word,” Porfiry laughed. + +“Oh, you sharp lawyer!... Damn you all!” snapped Razumihin, and suddenly +bursting out laughing himself, he went up to Porfiry with a more +cheerful face as though nothing had happened. “That’ll do! We are +all fools. To come to business. This is my friend Rodion Romanovitch +Raskolnikov; in the first place he has heard of you and wants to make +your acquaintance, and secondly, he has a little matter of business with +you. Bah! Zametov, what brought you here? Have you met before? Have you +known each other long?” + +“What does this mean?” thought Raskolnikov uneasily. + +Zametov seemed taken aback, but not very much so. + +“Why, it was at your rooms we met yesterday,” he said easily. + +“Then I have been spared the trouble. All last week he was begging me +to introduce him to you. Porfiry and you have sniffed each other out +without me. Where is your tobacco?” + +Porfiry Petrovitch was wearing a dressing-gown, very clean linen, and +trodden-down slippers. He was a man of about five and thirty, short, +stout even to corpulence, and clean shaven. He wore his hair cut short +and had a large round head, particularly prominent at the back. His +soft, round, rather snub-nosed face was of a sickly yellowish colour, +but had a vigorous and rather ironical expression. It would have been +good-natured except for a look in the eyes, which shone with a watery, +mawkish light under almost white, blinking eyelashes. The expression +of those eyes was strangely out of keeping with his somewhat womanish +figure, and gave it something far more serious than could be guessed at +first sight. + +As soon as Porfiry Petrovitch heard that his visitor had a little matter +of business with him, he begged him to sit down on the sofa and sat down +himself on the other end, waiting for him to explain his business, with +that careful and over-serious attention which is at once oppressive and +embarrassing, especially to a stranger, and especially if what you are +discussing is in your opinion of far too little importance for such +exceptional solemnity. But in brief and coherent phrases Raskolnikov +explained his business clearly and exactly, and was so well satisfied +with himself that he even succeeded in taking a good look at Porfiry. +Porfiry Petrovitch did not once take his eyes off him. Razumihin, +sitting opposite at the same table, listened warmly and impatiently, +looking from one to the other every moment with rather excessive +interest. + +“Fool,” Raskolnikov swore to himself. + +“You have to give information to the police,” Porfiry replied, with a +most businesslike air, “that having learnt of this incident, that is of +the murder, you beg to inform the lawyer in charge of the case that such +and such things belong to you, and that you desire to redeem them... +or... but they will write to you.” + +“That’s just the point, that at the present moment,” Raskolnikov tried +his utmost to feign embarrassment, “I am not quite in funds... and +even this trifling sum is beyond me... I only wanted, you see, for +the present to declare that the things are mine, and that when I have +money....” + +“That’s no matter,” answered Porfiry Petrovitch, receiving his +explanation of his pecuniary position coldly, “but you can, if you +prefer, write straight to me, to say, that having been informed of the +matter, and claiming such and such as your property, you beg...” + +“On an ordinary sheet of paper?” Raskolnikov interrupted eagerly, again +interested in the financial side of the question. + +“Oh, the most ordinary,” and suddenly Porfiry Petrovitch looked with +obvious irony at him, screwing up his eyes and, as it were, winking at +him. But perhaps it was Raskolnikov’s fancy, for it all lasted but a +moment. There was certainly something of the sort, Raskolnikov could +have sworn he winked at him, goodness knows why. + +“He knows,” flashed through his mind like lightning. + +“Forgive my troubling you about such trifles,” he went on, a little +disconcerted, “the things are only worth five roubles, but I prize them +particularly for the sake of those from whom they came to me, and I must +confess that I was alarmed when I heard...” + +“That’s why you were so much struck when I mentioned to Zossimov that +Porfiry was inquiring for everyone who had pledges!” Razumihin put in +with obvious intention. + +This was really unbearable. Raskolnikov could not help glancing at him +with a flash of vindictive anger in his black eyes, but immediately +recollected himself. + +“You seem to be jeering at me, brother?” he said to him, with a +well-feigned irritability. “I dare say I do seem to you absurdly anxious +about such trash; but you mustn’t think me selfish or grasping for that, +and these two things may be anything but trash in my eyes. I told you +just now that the silver watch, though it’s not worth a cent, is the +only thing left us of my father’s. You may laugh at me, but my mother is +here,” he turned suddenly to Porfiry, “and if she knew,” he turned again +hurriedly to Razumihin, carefully making his voice tremble, “that the +watch was lost, she would be in despair! You know what women are!” + +“Not a bit of it! I didn’t mean that at all! Quite the contrary!” + shouted Razumihin distressed. + +“Was it right? Was it natural? Did I overdo it?” Raskolnikov asked +himself in a tremor. “Why did I say that about women?” + +“Oh, your mother is with you?” Porfiry Petrovitch inquired. + +“Yes.” + +“When did she come?” + +“Last night.” + +Porfiry paused as though reflecting. + +“Your things would not in any case be lost,” he went on calmly and +coldly. “I have been expecting you here for some time.” + +And as though that was a matter of no importance, he carefully offered +the ash-tray to Razumihin, who was ruthlessly scattering cigarette ash +over the carpet. Raskolnikov shuddered, but Porfiry did not seem to be +looking at him, and was still concerned with Razumihin’s cigarette. + +“What? Expecting him? Why, did you know that he had pledges _there_?” + cried Razumihin. + +Porfiry Petrovitch addressed himself to Raskolnikov. + +“Your things, the ring and the watch, were wrapped up together, and on +the paper your name was legibly written in pencil, together with the +date on which you left them with her...” + +“How observant you are!” Raskolnikov smiled awkwardly, doing his very +utmost to look him straight in the face, but he failed, and suddenly +added: + +“I say that because I suppose there were a great many pledges... that it +must be difficult to remember them all.... But you remember them all so +clearly, and... and...” + +“Stupid! Feeble!” he thought. “Why did I add that?” + +“But we know all who had pledges, and you are the only one who hasn’t +come forward,” Porfiry answered with hardly perceptible irony. + +“I haven’t been quite well.” + +“I heard that too. I heard, indeed, that you were in great distress +about something. You look pale still.” + +“I am not pale at all.... No, I am quite well,” Raskolnikov snapped +out rudely and angrily, completely changing his tone. His anger was +mounting, he could not repress it. “And in my anger I shall betray +myself,” flashed through his mind again. “Why are they torturing me?” + +“Not quite well!” Razumihin caught him up. “What next! He was +unconscious and delirious all yesterday. Would you believe, Porfiry, as +soon as our backs were turned, he dressed, though he could hardly stand, +and gave us the slip and went off on a spree somewhere till midnight, +delirious all the time! Would you believe it! Extraordinary!” + +“Really delirious? You don’t say so!” Porfiry shook his head in a +womanish way. + +“Nonsense! Don’t you believe it! But you don’t believe it anyway,” + Raskolnikov let slip in his anger. But Porfiry Petrovitch did not seem +to catch those strange words. + +“But how could you have gone out if you hadn’t been delirious?” + Razumihin got hot suddenly. “What did you go out for? What was the +object of it? And why on the sly? Were you in your senses when you did +it? Now that all danger is over I can speak plainly.” + +“I was awfully sick of them yesterday.” Raskolnikov addressed Porfiry +suddenly with a smile of insolent defiance, “I ran away from them to +take lodgings where they wouldn’t find me, and took a lot of money with +me. Mr. Zametov there saw it. I say, Mr. Zametov, was I sensible or +delirious yesterday; settle our dispute.” + +He could have strangled Zametov at that moment, so hateful were his +expression and his silence to him. + +“In my opinion you talked sensibly and even artfully, but you were +extremely irritable,” Zametov pronounced dryly. + +“And Nikodim Fomitch was telling me to-day,” put in Porfiry Petrovitch, +“that he met you very late last night in the lodging of a man who had +been run over.” + +“And there,” said Razumihin, “weren’t you mad then? You gave your last +penny to the widow for the funeral. If you wanted to help, give fifteen +or twenty even, but keep three roubles for yourself at least, but he +flung away all the twenty-five at once!” + +“Maybe I found a treasure somewhere and you know nothing of it? So +that’s why I was liberal yesterday.... Mr. Zametov knows I’ve found a +treasure! Excuse us, please, for disturbing you for half an hour +with such trivialities,” he said, turning to Porfiry Petrovitch, with +trembling lips. “We are boring you, aren’t we?” + +“Oh no, quite the contrary, quite the contrary! If only you knew how you +interest me! It’s interesting to look on and listen... and I am really +glad you have come forward at last.” + +“But you might give us some tea! My throat’s dry,” cried Razumihin. + +“Capital idea! Perhaps we will all keep you company. Wouldn’t you +like... something more essential before tea?” + +“Get along with you!” + +Porfiry Petrovitch went out to order tea. + +Raskolnikov’s thoughts were in a whirl. He was in terrible exasperation. + +“The worst of it is they don’t disguise it; they don’t care to stand on +ceremony! And how if you didn’t know me at all, did you come to talk +to Nikodim Fomitch about me? So they don’t care to hide that they are +tracking me like a pack of dogs. They simply spit in my face.” He was +shaking with rage. “Come, strike me openly, don’t play with me like a +cat with a mouse. It’s hardly civil, Porfiry Petrovitch, but perhaps I +won’t allow it! I shall get up and throw the whole truth in your ugly +faces, and you’ll see how I despise you.” He could hardly breathe. +“And what if it’s only my fancy? What if I am mistaken, and through +inexperience I get angry and don’t keep up my nasty part? Perhaps it’s +all unintentional. All their phrases are the usual ones, but there is +something about them.... It all might be said, but there is something. +Why did he say bluntly, ‘With her’? Why did Zametov add that I spoke +artfully? Why do they speak in that tone? Yes, the tone.... Razumihin +is sitting here, why does he see nothing? That innocent blockhead never +does see anything! Feverish again! Did Porfiry wink at me just now? Of +course it’s nonsense! What could he wink for? Are they trying to upset +my nerves or are they teasing me? Either it’s ill fancy or they know! +Even Zametov is rude.... Is Zametov rude? Zametov has changed his mind. +I foresaw he would change his mind! He is at home here, while it’s my +first visit. Porfiry does not consider him a visitor; sits with his back +to him. They’re as thick as thieves, no doubt, over me! Not a doubt they +were talking about me before we came. Do they know about the flat? If +only they’d make haste! When I said that I ran away to take a flat he +let it pass.... I put that in cleverly about a flat, it may be of use +afterwards.... Delirious, indeed... ha-ha-ha! He knows all about last +night! He didn’t know of my mother’s arrival! The hag had written the +date on in pencil! You are wrong, you won’t catch me! There are no +facts... it’s all supposition! You produce facts! The flat even isn’t a +fact but delirium. I know what to say to them.... Do they know about the +flat? I won’t go without finding out. What did I come for? But my being +angry now, maybe is a fact! Fool, how irritable I am! Perhaps that’s +right; to play the invalid.... He is feeling me. He will try to catch +me. Why did I come?” + +All this flashed like lightning through his mind. + +Porfiry Petrovitch returned quickly. He became suddenly more jovial. + +“Your party yesterday, brother, has left my head rather.... And I am out +of sorts altogether,” he began in quite a different tone, laughing to +Razumihin. + +“Was it interesting? I left you yesterday at the most interesting point. +Who got the best of it?” + +“Oh, no one, of course. They got on to everlasting questions, floated +off into space.” + +“Only fancy, Rodya, what we got on to yesterday. Whether there is such a +thing as crime. I told you that we talked our heads off.” + +“What is there strange? It’s an everyday social question,” Raskolnikov +answered casually. + +“The question wasn’t put quite like that,” observed Porfiry. + +“Not quite, that’s true,” Razumihin agreed at once, getting warm and +hurried as usual. “Listen, Rodion, and tell us your opinion, I want to +hear it. I was fighting tooth and nail with them and wanted you to +help me. I told them you were coming.... It began with the socialist +doctrine. You know their doctrine; crime is a protest against the +abnormality of the social organisation and nothing more, and nothing +more; no other causes admitted!...” + +“You are wrong there,” cried Porfiry Petrovitch; he was noticeably +animated and kept laughing as he looked at Razumihin, which made him +more excited than ever. + +“Nothing is admitted,” Razumihin interrupted with heat. + +“I am not wrong. I’ll show you their pamphlets. Everything with them +is ‘the influence of environment,’ and nothing else. Their favourite +phrase! From which it follows that, if society is normally organised, +all crime will cease at once, since there will be nothing to protest +against and all men will become righteous in one instant. Human nature +is not taken into account, it is excluded, it’s not supposed to exist! +They don’t recognise that humanity, developing by a historical living +process, will become at last a normal society, but they believe that a +social system that has come out of some mathematical brain is going +to organise all humanity at once and make it just and sinless in an +instant, quicker than any living process! That’s why they instinctively +dislike history, ‘nothing but ugliness and stupidity in it,’ and they +explain it all as stupidity! That’s why they so dislike the _living_ +process of life; they don’t want a _living soul_! The living soul +demands life, the soul won’t obey the rules of mechanics, the soul is an +object of suspicion, the soul is retrograde! But what they want though +it smells of death and can be made of India-rubber, at least is not +alive, has no will, is servile and won’t revolt! And it comes in the end +to their reducing everything to the building of walls and the planning +of rooms and passages in a phalanstery! The phalanstery is ready, +indeed, but your human nature is not ready for the phalanstery--it +wants life, it hasn’t completed its vital process, it’s too soon for the +graveyard! You can’t skip over nature by logic. Logic presupposes three +possibilities, but there are millions! Cut away a million, and reduce +it all to the question of comfort! That’s the easiest solution of the +problem! It’s seductively clear and you musn’t think about it. That’s +the great thing, you mustn’t think! The whole secret of life in two +pages of print!” + +“Now he is off, beating the drum! Catch hold of him, do!” laughed +Porfiry. “Can you imagine,” he turned to Raskolnikov, “six people +holding forth like that last night, in one room, with punch as a +preliminary! No, brother, you are wrong, environment accounts for a +great deal in crime; I can assure you of that.” + +“Oh, I know it does, but just tell me: a man of forty violates a child +of ten; was it environment drove him to it?” + +“Well, strictly speaking, it did,” Porfiry observed with noteworthy +gravity; “a crime of that nature may be very well ascribed to the +influence of environment.” + +Razumihin was almost in a frenzy. “Oh, if you like,” he roared. “I’ll +prove to you that your white eyelashes may very well be ascribed to the +Church of Ivan the Great’s being two hundred and fifty feet high, and I +will prove it clearly, exactly, progressively, and even with a Liberal +tendency! I undertake to! Will you bet on it?” + +“Done! Let’s hear, please, how he will prove it!” + +“He is always humbugging, confound him,” cried Razumihin, jumping up and +gesticulating. “What’s the use of talking to you? He does all that +on purpose; you don’t know him, Rodion! He took their side yesterday, +simply to make fools of them. And the things he said yesterday! And they +were delighted! He can keep it up for a fortnight together. Last year he +persuaded us that he was going into a monastery: he stuck to it for two +months. Not long ago he took it into his head to declare he was going +to get married, that he had everything ready for the wedding. He ordered +new clothes indeed. We all began to congratulate him. There was no +bride, nothing, all pure fantasy!” + +“Ah, you are wrong! I got the clothes before. It was the new clothes in +fact that made me think of taking you in.” + +“Are you such a good dissembler?” Raskolnikov asked carelessly. + +“You wouldn’t have supposed it, eh? Wait a bit, I shall take you in, +too. Ha-ha-ha! No, I’ll tell you the truth. All these questions about +crime, environment, children, recall to my mind an article of yours +which interested me at the time. ‘On Crime’... or something of the +sort, I forget the title, I read it with pleasure two months ago in the +_Periodical Review_.” + +“My article? In the _Periodical Review_?” Raskolnikov asked in +astonishment. “I certainly did write an article upon a book six months +ago when I left the university, but I sent it to the _Weekly Review_.” + +“But it came out in the _Periodical_.” + +“And the _Weekly Review_ ceased to exist, so that’s why it wasn’t +printed at the time.” + +“That’s true; but when it ceased to exist, the _Weekly Review_ was +amalgamated with the _Periodical_, and so your article appeared two +months ago in the latter. Didn’t you know?” + +Raskolnikov had not known. + +“Why, you might get some money out of them for the article! What a +strange person you are! You lead such a solitary life that you know +nothing of matters that concern you directly. It’s a fact, I assure +you.” + +“Bravo, Rodya! I knew nothing about it either!” cried Razumihin. “I’ll +run to-day to the reading-room and ask for the number. Two months ago? +What was the date? It doesn’t matter though, I will find it. Think of +not telling us!” + +“How did you find out that the article was mine? It’s only signed with +an initial.” + +“I only learnt it by chance, the other day. Through the editor; I know +him.... I was very much interested.” + +“I analysed, if I remember, the psychology of a criminal before and +after the crime.” + +“Yes, and you maintained that the perpetration of a crime is always +accompanied by illness. Very, very original, but... it was not that part +of your article that interested me so much, but an idea at the end of +the article which I regret to say you merely suggested without working +it out clearly. There is, if you recollect, a suggestion that there are +certain persons who can... that is, not precisely are able to, but have +a perfect right to commit breaches of morality and crimes, and that the +law is not for them.” + +Raskolnikov smiled at the exaggerated and intentional distortion of his +idea. + +“What? What do you mean? A right to crime? But not because of the +influence of environment?” Razumihin inquired with some alarm even. + +“No, not exactly because of it,” answered Porfiry. “In his article all +men are divided into ‘ordinary’ and ‘extraordinary.’ Ordinary men have +to live in submission, have no right to transgress the law, because, +don’t you see, they are ordinary. But extraordinary men have a right to +commit any crime and to transgress the law in any way, just because they +are extraordinary. That was your idea, if I am not mistaken?” + +“What do you mean? That can’t be right?” Razumihin muttered in +bewilderment. + +Raskolnikov smiled again. He saw the point at once, and knew where they +wanted to drive him. He decided to take up the challenge. + +“That wasn’t quite my contention,” he began simply and modestly. “Yet +I admit that you have stated it almost correctly; perhaps, if you like, +perfectly so.” (It almost gave him pleasure to admit this.) “The only +difference is that I don’t contend that extraordinary people are always +bound to commit breaches of morals, as you call it. In fact, I doubt +whether such an argument could be published. I simply hinted that an +‘extraordinary’ man has the right... that is not an official right, but +an inner right to decide in his own conscience to overstep... certain +obstacles, and only in case it is essential for the practical fulfilment +of his idea (sometimes, perhaps, of benefit to the whole of humanity). +You say that my article isn’t definite; I am ready to make it as clear +as I can. Perhaps I am right in thinking you want me to; very well. I +maintain that if the discoveries of Kepler and Newton could not have +been made known except by sacrificing the lives of one, a dozen, a +hundred, or more men, Newton would have had the right, would indeed have +been in duty-bound... to _eliminate_ the dozen or the hundred men for +the sake of making his discoveries known to the whole of humanity. But +it does not follow from that that Newton had a right to murder people +right and left and to steal every day in the market. Then, I remember, I +maintain in my article that all... well, legislators and leaders of men, +such as Lycurgus, Solon, Mahomet, Napoleon, and so on, were all without +exception criminals, from the very fact that, making a new law, they +transgressed the ancient one, handed down from their ancestors and held +sacred by the people, and they did not stop short at bloodshed either, +if that bloodshed--often of innocent persons fighting bravely in defence +of ancient law--were of use to their cause. It’s remarkable, in fact, +that the majority, indeed, of these benefactors and leaders of humanity +were guilty of terrible carnage. In short, I maintain that all great men +or even men a little out of the common, that is to say capable of giving +some new word, must from their very nature be criminals--more or less, +of course. Otherwise it’s hard for them to get out of the common rut; +and to remain in the common rut is what they can’t submit to, from their +very nature again, and to my mind they ought not, indeed, to submit to +it. You see that there is nothing particularly new in all that. The +same thing has been printed and read a thousand times before. As for my +division of people into ordinary and extraordinary, I acknowledge that +it’s somewhat arbitrary, but I don’t insist upon exact numbers. I only +believe in my leading idea that men are _in general_ divided by a law +of nature into two categories, inferior (ordinary), that is, so to say, +material that serves only to reproduce its kind, and men who have +the gift or the talent to utter _a new word_. There are, of course, +innumerable sub-divisions, but the distinguishing features of both +categories are fairly well marked. The first category, generally +speaking, are men conservative in temperament and law-abiding; they live +under control and love to be controlled. To my thinking it is their duty +to be controlled, because that’s their vocation, and there is nothing +humiliating in it for them. The second category all transgress the +law; they are destroyers or disposed to destruction according to their +capacities. The crimes of these men are of course relative and varied; +for the most part they seek in very varied ways the destruction of the +present for the sake of the better. But if such a one is forced for the +sake of his idea to step over a corpse or wade through blood, he can, I +maintain, find within himself, in his conscience, a sanction for wading +through blood--that depends on the idea and its dimensions, note that. +It’s only in that sense I speak of their right to crime in my article +(you remember it began with the legal question). There’s no need for +such anxiety, however; the masses will scarcely ever admit this right, +they punish them or hang them (more or less), and in doing so fulfil +quite justly their conservative vocation. But the same masses set these +criminals on a pedestal in the next generation and worship them (more or +less). The first category is always the man of the present, the second +the man of the future. The first preserve the world and people it, the +second move the world and lead it to its goal. Each class has an equal +right to exist. In fact, all have equal rights with me--and _vive la +guerre éternelle_--till the New Jerusalem, of course!” + +“Then you believe in the New Jerusalem, do you?” + +“I do,” Raskolnikov answered firmly; as he said these words and during +the whole preceding tirade he kept his eyes on one spot on the carpet. + +“And... and do you believe in God? Excuse my curiosity.” + +“I do,” repeated Raskolnikov, raising his eyes to Porfiry. + +“And... do you believe in Lazarus’ rising from the dead?” + +“I... I do. Why do you ask all this?” + +“You believe it literally?” + +“Literally.” + +“You don’t say so.... I asked from curiosity. Excuse me. But let us +go back to the question; they are not always executed. Some, on the +contrary...” + +“Triumph in their lifetime? Oh, yes, some attain their ends in this +life, and then...” + +“They begin executing other people?” + +“If it’s necessary; indeed, for the most part they do. Your remark is +very witty.” + +“Thank you. But tell me this: how do you distinguish those extraordinary +people from the ordinary ones? Are there signs at their birth? I feel +there ought to be more exactitude, more external definition. Excuse the +natural anxiety of a practical law-abiding citizen, but couldn’t they +adopt a special uniform, for instance, couldn’t they wear something, be +branded in some way? For you know if confusion arises and a member of +one category imagines that he belongs to the other, begins to ‘eliminate +obstacles’ as you so happily expressed it, then...” + +“Oh, that very often happens! That remark is wittier than the other.” + +“Thank you.” + +“No reason to; but take note that the mistake can only arise in +the first category, that is among the ordinary people (as I perhaps +unfortunately called them). In spite of their predisposition to +obedience very many of them, through a playfulness of nature, sometimes +vouchsafed even to the cow, like to imagine themselves advanced people, +‘destroyers,’ and to push themselves into the ‘new movement,’ and +this quite sincerely. Meanwhile the really _new_ people are very often +unobserved by them, or even despised as reactionaries of grovelling +tendencies. But I don’t think there is any considerable danger here, +and you really need not be uneasy for they never go very far. Of course, +they might have a thrashing sometimes for letting their fancy run away +with them and to teach them their place, but no more; in fact, even +this isn’t necessary as they castigate themselves, for they are very +conscientious: some perform this service for one another and others +chastise themselves with their own hands.... They will impose various +public acts of penitence upon themselves with a beautiful and edifying +effect; in fact you’ve nothing to be uneasy about.... It’s a law of +nature.” + +“Well, you have certainly set my mind more at rest on that score; but +there’s another thing worries me. Tell me, please, are there many people +who have the right to kill others, these extraordinary people? I am +ready to bow down to them, of course, but you must admit it’s alarming +if there are a great many of them, eh?” + +“Oh, you needn’t worry about that either,” Raskolnikov went on in the +same tone. “People with new ideas, people with the faintest capacity for +saying something _new_, are extremely few in number, extraordinarily +so in fact. One thing only is clear, that the appearance of all these +grades and sub-divisions of men must follow with unfailing regularity +some law of nature. That law, of course, is unknown at present, but I am +convinced that it exists, and one day may become known. The vast mass of +mankind is mere material, and only exists in order by some great effort, +by some mysterious process, by means of some crossing of races and +stocks, to bring into the world at last perhaps one man out of a +thousand with a spark of independence. One in ten thousand perhaps--I +speak roughly, approximately--is born with some independence, and with +still greater independence one in a hundred thousand. The man of genius +is one of millions, and the great geniuses, the crown of humanity, +appear on earth perhaps one in many thousand millions. In fact I have +not peeped into the retort in which all this takes place. But there +certainly is and must be a definite law, it cannot be a matter of +chance.” + +“Why, are you both joking?” Razumihin cried at last. “There you sit, +making fun of one another. Are you serious, Rodya?” + +Raskolnikov raised his pale and almost mournful face and made no reply. +And the unconcealed, persistent, nervous, and _discourteous_ sarcasm of +Porfiry seemed strange to Razumihin beside that quiet and mournful face. + +“Well, brother, if you are really serious... You are right, of course, +in saying that it’s not new, that it’s like what we’ve read and heard a +thousand times already; but what is really original in all this, and is +exclusively your own, to my horror, is that you sanction bloodshed +_in the name of conscience_, and, excuse my saying so, with such +fanaticism.... That, I take it, is the point of your article. But that +sanction of bloodshed _by conscience_ is to my mind... more terrible +than the official, legal sanction of bloodshed....” + +“You are quite right, it is more terrible,” Porfiry agreed. + +“Yes, you must have exaggerated! There is some mistake, I shall read it. +You can’t think that! I shall read it.” + +“All that is not in the article, there’s only a hint of it,” said +Raskolnikov. + +“Yes, yes.” Porfiry couldn’t sit still. “Your attitude to crime is +pretty clear to me now, but... excuse me for my impertinence (I am +really ashamed to be worrying you like this), you see, you’ve removed +my anxiety as to the two grades getting mixed, but... there are various +practical possibilities that make me uneasy! What if some man or youth +imagines that he is a Lycurgus or Mahomet--a future one of course--and +suppose he begins to remove all obstacles.... He has some great +enterprise before him and needs money for it... and tries to get it... +do you see?” + +Zametov gave a sudden guffaw in his corner. Raskolnikov did not even +raise his eyes to him. + +“I must admit,” he went on calmly, “that such cases certainly must +arise. The vain and foolish are particularly apt to fall into that +snare; young people especially.” + +“Yes, you see. Well then?” + +“What then?” Raskolnikov smiled in reply; “that’s not my fault. So it is +and so it always will be. He said just now (he nodded at Razumihin) +that I sanction bloodshed. Society is too well protected by prisons, +banishment, criminal investigators, penal servitude. There’s no need to +be uneasy. You have but to catch the thief.” + +“And what if we do catch him?” + +“Then he gets what he deserves.” + +“You are certainly logical. But what of his conscience?” + +“Why do you care about that?” + +“Simply from humanity.” + +“If he has a conscience he will suffer for his mistake. That will be his +punishment--as well as the prison.” + +“But the real geniuses,” asked Razumihin frowning, “those who have +the right to murder? Oughtn’t they to suffer at all even for the blood +they’ve shed?” + +“Why the word _ought_? It’s not a matter of permission or prohibition. +He will suffer if he is sorry for his victim. Pain and suffering are +always inevitable for a large intelligence and a deep heart. The +really great men must, I think, have great sadness on earth,” he added +dreamily, not in the tone of the conversation. + +He raised his eyes, looked earnestly at them all, smiled, and took his +cap. He was too quiet by comparison with his manner at his entrance, and +he felt this. Everyone got up. + +“Well, you may abuse me, be angry with me if you like,” Porfiry +Petrovitch began again, “but I can’t resist. Allow me one little +question (I know I am troubling you). There is just one little notion I +want to express, simply that I may not forget it.” + +“Very good, tell me your little notion,” Raskolnikov stood waiting, pale +and grave before him. + +“Well, you see... I really don’t know how to express it properly.... +It’s a playful, psychological idea.... When you were writing your +article, surely you couldn’t have helped, he-he! fancying yourself... +just a little, an ‘extraordinary’ man, uttering a _new word_ in your +sense.... That’s so, isn’t it?” + +“Quite possibly,” Raskolnikov answered contemptuously. + +Razumihin made a movement. + +“And, if so, could you bring yourself in case of worldly difficulties +and hardship or for some service to humanity--to overstep obstacles?... +For instance, to rob and murder?” + +And again he winked with his left eye, and laughed noiselessly just as +before. + +“If I did I certainly should not tell you,” Raskolnikov answered with +defiant and haughty contempt. + +“No, I was only interested on account of your article, from a literary +point of view...” + +“Foo! how obvious and insolent that is!” Raskolnikov thought with +repulsion. + +“Allow me to observe,” he answered dryly, “that I don’t consider myself +a Mahomet or a Napoleon, nor any personage of that kind, and not being +one of them I cannot tell you how I should act.” + +“Oh, come, don’t we all think ourselves Napoleons now in Russia?” + Porfiry Petrovitch said with alarming familiarity. + +Something peculiar betrayed itself in the very intonation of his voice. + +“Perhaps it was one of these future Napoleons who did for Alyona +Ivanovna last week?” Zametov blurted out from the corner. + +Raskolnikov did not speak, but looked firmly and intently at Porfiry. +Razumihin was scowling gloomily. He seemed before this to be noticing +something. He looked angrily around. There was a minute of gloomy +silence. Raskolnikov turned to go. + +“Are you going already?” Porfiry said amiably, holding out his hand with +excessive politeness. “Very, very glad of your acquaintance. As for your +request, have no uneasiness, write just as I told you, or, better still, +come to me there yourself in a day or two... to-morrow, indeed. I shall +be there at eleven o’clock for certain. We’ll arrange it all; we’ll have +a talk. As one of the last to be _there_, you might perhaps be able to +tell us something,” he added with a most good-natured expression. + +“You want to cross-examine me officially in due form?” Raskolnikov asked +sharply. + +“Oh, why? That’s not necessary for the present. You misunderstand me. +I lose no opportunity, you see, and... I’ve talked with all who had +pledges.... I obtained evidence from some of them, and you are the +last.... Yes, by the way,” he cried, seemingly suddenly delighted, “I +just remember, what was I thinking of?” he turned to Razumihin, “you +were talking my ears off about that Nikolay... of course, I know, I know +very well,” he turned to Raskolnikov, “that the fellow is innocent, but +what is one to do? We had to trouble Dmitri too.... This is the point, +this is all: when you went up the stairs it was past seven, wasn’t it?” + +“Yes,” answered Raskolnikov, with an unpleasant sensation at the very +moment he spoke that he need not have said it. + +“Then when you went upstairs between seven and eight, didn’t you see in +a flat that stood open on a second storey, do you remember? two workmen +or at least one of them? They were painting there, didn’t you notice +them? It’s very, very important for them.” + +“Painters? No, I didn’t see them,” Raskolnikov answered slowly, as +though ransacking his memory, while at the same instant he was racking +every nerve, almost swooning with anxiety to conjecture as quickly as +possible where the trap lay and not to overlook anything. “No, I didn’t +see them, and I don’t think I noticed a flat like that open.... But on +the fourth storey” (he had mastered the trap now and was triumphant) +“I remember now that someone was moving out of the flat opposite Alyona +Ivanovna’s.... I remember... I remember it clearly. Some porters +were carrying out a sofa and they squeezed me against the wall. But +painters... no, I don’t remember that there were any painters, and I +don’t think that there was a flat open anywhere, no, there wasn’t.” + +“What do you mean?” Razumihin shouted suddenly, as though he had +reflected and realised. “Why, it was on the day of the murder the +painters were at work, and he was there three days before? What are you +asking?” + +“Foo! I have muddled it!” Porfiry slapped himself on the forehead. +“Deuce take it! This business is turning my brain!” he addressed +Raskolnikov somewhat apologetically. “It would be such a great thing for +us to find out whether anyone had seen them between seven and eight at +the flat, so I fancied you could perhaps have told us something.... I +quite muddled it.” + +“Then you should be more careful,” Razumihin observed grimly. + +The last words were uttered in the passage. Porfiry Petrovitch saw them +to the door with excessive politeness. + +They went out into the street gloomy and sullen, and for some steps they +did not say a word. Raskolnikov drew a deep breath. + + + +CHAPTER VI + +“I don’t believe it, I can’t believe it!” repeated Razumihin, trying in +perplexity to refute Raskolnikov’s arguments. + +They were by now approaching Bakaleyev’s lodgings, where Pulcheria +Alexandrovna and Dounia had been expecting them a long while. Razumihin +kept stopping on the way in the heat of discussion, confused and excited +by the very fact that they were for the first time speaking openly about +_it_. + +“Don’t believe it, then!” answered Raskolnikov, with a cold, careless +smile. “You were noticing nothing as usual, but I was weighing every +word.” + +“You are suspicious. That is why you weighed their words... h’m... +certainly, I agree, Porfiry’s tone was rather strange, and still +more that wretch Zametov!... You are right, there was something about +him--but why? Why?” + +“He has changed his mind since last night.” + +“Quite the contrary! If they had that brainless idea, they would do +their utmost to hide it, and conceal their cards, so as to catch you +afterwards.... But it was all impudent and careless.” + +“If they had had facts--I mean, real facts--or at least grounds for +suspicion, then they would certainly have tried to hide their game, +in the hope of getting more (they would have made a search long ago +besides). But they have no facts, not one. It is all mirage--all +ambiguous. Simply a floating idea. So they try to throw me out by +impudence. And perhaps, he was irritated at having no facts, and blurted +it out in his vexation--or perhaps he has some plan... he seems an +intelligent man. Perhaps he wanted to frighten me by pretending to +know. They have a psychology of their own, brother. But it is loathsome +explaining it all. Stop!” + +“And it’s insulting, insulting! I understand you. But... since we have +spoken openly now (and it is an excellent thing that we have at last--I +am glad) I will own now frankly that I noticed it in them long ago, +this idea. Of course the merest hint only--an insinuation--but why an +insinuation even? How dare they? What foundation have they? If only you +knew how furious I have been. Think only! Simply because a poor student, +unhinged by poverty and hypochondria, on the eve of a severe delirious +illness (note that), suspicious, vain, proud, who has not seen a soul to +speak to for six months, in rags and in boots without soles, has to +face some wretched policemen and put up with their insolence; and +the unexpected debt thrust under his nose, the I.O.U. presented +by Tchebarov, the new paint, thirty degrees Reaumur and a stifling +atmosphere, a crowd of people, the talk about the murder of a person +where he had been just before, and all that on an empty stomach--he +might well have a fainting fit! And that, that is what they found it +all on! Damn them! I understand how annoying it is, but in your place, +Rodya, I would laugh at them, or better still, spit in their ugly faces, +and spit a dozen times in all directions. I’d hit out in all +directions, neatly too, and so I’d put an end to it. Damn them! Don’t be +downhearted. It’s a shame!” + +“He really has put it well, though,” Raskolnikov thought. + +“Damn them? But the cross-examination again, to-morrow?” he said with +bitterness. “Must I really enter into explanations with them? I feel +vexed as it is, that I condescended to speak to Zametov yesterday in the +restaurant....” + +“Damn it! I will go myself to Porfiry. I will squeeze it out of him, as +one of the family: he must let me know the ins and outs of it all! And +as for Zametov...” + +“At last he sees through him!” thought Raskolnikov. + +“Stay!” cried Razumihin, seizing him by the shoulder again. “Stay! you +were wrong. I have thought it out. You are wrong! How was that a trap? +You say that the question about the workmen was a trap. But if you had +done _that_, could you have said you had seen them painting the flat... +and the workmen? On the contrary, you would have seen nothing, even if +you had seen it. Who would own it against himself?” + +“If I had done _that thing_, I should certainly have said that I had +seen the workmen and the flat,” Raskolnikov answered, with reluctance +and obvious disgust. + +“But why speak against yourself?” + +“Because only peasants, or the most inexperienced novices deny +everything flatly at examinations. If a man is ever so little developed +and experienced, he will certainly try to admit all the external facts +that can’t be avoided, but will seek other explanations of them, will +introduce some special, unexpected turn, that will give them another +significance and put them in another light. Porfiry might well reckon +that I should be sure to answer so, and say I had seen them to give an +air of truth, and then make some explanation.” + +“But he would have told you at once that the workmen could not have been +there two days before, and that therefore you must have been there on +the day of the murder at eight o’clock. And so he would have caught you +over a detail.” + +“Yes, that is what he was reckoning on, that I should not have time to +reflect, and should be in a hurry to make the most likely answer, and +so would forget that the workmen could not have been there two days +before.” + +“But how could you forget it?” + +“Nothing easier. It is in just such stupid things clever people are most +easily caught. The more cunning a man is, the less he suspects that he +will be caught in a simple thing. The more cunning a man is, the simpler +the trap he must be caught in. Porfiry is not such a fool as you +think....” + +“He is a knave then, if that is so!” + +Raskolnikov could not help laughing. But at the very moment, he was +struck by the strangeness of his own frankness, and the eagerness +with which he had made this explanation, though he had kept up all the +preceding conversation with gloomy repulsion, obviously with a motive, +from necessity. + +“I am getting a relish for certain aspects!” he thought to himself. +But almost at the same instant he became suddenly uneasy, as though an +unexpected and alarming idea had occurred to him. His uneasiness kept on +increasing. They had just reached the entrance to Bakaleyev’s. + +“Go in alone!” said Raskolnikov suddenly. “I will be back directly.” + +“Where are you going? Why, we are just here.” + +“I can’t help it.... I will come in half an hour. Tell them.” + +“Say what you like, I will come with you.” + +“You, too, want to torture me!” he screamed, with such bitter +irritation, such despair in his eyes that Razumihin’s hands dropped. +He stood for some time on the steps, looking gloomily at Raskolnikov +striding rapidly away in the direction of his lodging. At last, gritting +his teeth and clenching his fist, he swore he would squeeze Porfiry +like a lemon that very day, and went up the stairs to reassure Pulcheria +Alexandrovna, who was by now alarmed at their long absence. + +When Raskolnikov got home, his hair was soaked with sweat and he was +breathing heavily. He went rapidly up the stairs, walked into his +unlocked room and at once fastened the latch. Then in senseless terror +he rushed to the corner, to that hole under the paper where he had put +the things; put his hand in, and for some minutes felt carefully in the +hole, in every crack and fold of the paper. Finding nothing, he got up +and drew a deep breath. As he was reaching the steps of Bakaleyev’s, he +suddenly fancied that something, a chain, a stud or even a bit of paper +in which they had been wrapped with the old woman’s handwriting on it, +might somehow have slipped out and been lost in some crack, and then +might suddenly turn up as unexpected, conclusive evidence against him. + +He stood as though lost in thought, and a strange, humiliated, half +senseless smile strayed on his lips. He took his cap at last and went +quietly out of the room. His ideas were all tangled. He went dreamily +through the gateway. + +“Here he is himself,” shouted a loud voice. + +He raised his head. + +The porter was standing at the door of his little room and was pointing +him out to a short man who looked like an artisan, wearing a long coat +and a waistcoat, and looking at a distance remarkably like a woman. He +stooped, and his head in a greasy cap hung forward. From his wrinkled +flabby face he looked over fifty; his little eyes were lost in fat and +they looked out grimly, sternly and discontentedly. + +“What is it?” Raskolnikov asked, going up to the porter. + +The man stole a look at him from under his brows and he looked at him +attentively, deliberately; then he turned slowly and went out of the +gate into the street without saying a word. + +“What is it?” cried Raskolnikov. + +“Why, he there was asking whether a student lived here, mentioned your +name and whom you lodged with. I saw you coming and pointed you out and +he went away. It’s funny.” + +The porter too seemed rather puzzled, but not much so, and after +wondering for a moment he turned and went back to his room. + +Raskolnikov ran after the stranger, and at once caught sight of +him walking along the other side of the street with the same even, +deliberate step with his eyes fixed on the ground, as though in +meditation. He soon overtook him, but for some time walked behind him. +At last, moving on to a level with him, he looked at his face. The man +noticed him at once, looked at him quickly, but dropped his eyes again; +and so they walked for a minute side by side without uttering a word. + +“You were inquiring for me... of the porter?” Raskolnikov said at last, +but in a curiously quiet voice. + +The man made no answer; he didn’t even look at him. Again they were both +silent. + +“Why do you... come and ask for me... and say nothing.... What’s the +meaning of it?” + +Raskolnikov’s voice broke and he seemed unable to articulate the words +clearly. + +The man raised his eyes this time and turned a gloomy sinister look at +Raskolnikov. + +“Murderer!” he said suddenly in a quiet but clear and distinct voice. + +Raskolnikov went on walking beside him. His legs felt suddenly weak, a +cold shiver ran down his spine, and his heart seemed to stand still for +a moment, then suddenly began throbbing as though it were set free. So +they walked for about a hundred paces, side by side in silence. + +The man did not look at him. + +“What do you mean... what is.... Who is a murderer?” muttered +Raskolnikov hardly audibly. + +“_You_ are a murderer,” the man answered still more articulately and +emphatically, with a smile of triumphant hatred, and again he looked +straight into Raskolnikov’s pale face and stricken eyes. + +They had just reached the cross-roads. The man turned to the left +without looking behind him. Raskolnikov remained standing, gazing after +him. He saw him turn round fifty paces away and look back at him still +standing there. Raskolnikov could not see clearly, but he fancied that +he was again smiling the same smile of cold hatred and triumph. + +With slow faltering steps, with shaking knees, Raskolnikov made his way +back to his little garret, feeling chilled all over. He took off his cap +and put it on the table, and for ten minutes he stood without moving. +Then he sank exhausted on the sofa and with a weak moan of pain he +stretched himself on it. So he lay for half an hour. + +He thought of nothing. Some thoughts or fragments of thoughts, some +images without order or coherence floated before his mind--faces of +people he had seen in his childhood or met somewhere once, whom he would +never have recalled, the belfry of the church at V., the billiard table +in a restaurant and some officers playing billiards, the smell of cigars +in some underground tobacco shop, a tavern room, a back staircase quite +dark, all sloppy with dirty water and strewn with egg-shells, and the +Sunday bells floating in from somewhere.... The images followed one +another, whirling like a hurricane. Some of them he liked and tried +to clutch at, but they faded and all the while there was an oppression +within him, but it was not overwhelming, sometimes it was even +pleasant.... The slight shivering still persisted, but that too +was an almost pleasant sensation. + +He heard the hurried footsteps of Razumihin; he closed his eyes and +pretended to be asleep. Razumihin opened the door and stood for some +time in the doorway as though hesitating, then he stepped softly into +the room and went cautiously to the sofa. Raskolnikov heard Nastasya’s +whisper: + +“Don’t disturb him! Let him sleep. He can have his dinner later.” + +“Quite so,” answered Razumihin. Both withdrew carefully and closed the +door. Another half-hour passed. Raskolnikov opened his eyes, turned on +his back again, clasping his hands behind his head. + +“Who is he? Who is that man who sprang out of the earth? Where was he, +what did he see? He has seen it all, that’s clear. Where was he then? +And from where did he see? Why has he only now sprung out of the earth? +And how could he see? Is it possible? Hm...” continued Raskolnikov, +turning cold and shivering, “and the jewel case Nikolay found behind the +door--was that possible? A clue? You miss an infinitesimal line and you +can build it into a pyramid of evidence! A fly flew by and saw it! Is it +possible?” He felt with sudden loathing how weak, how physically weak he +had become. “I ought to have known it,” he thought with a bitter smile. +“And 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 æsthetic 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! Thirdly, because I aimed at carrying it out as justly as +possible, weighing, measuring and calculating. Of all the lice I picked +out the most useless one and proposed to take from her only as much as I +needed for the first step, no more nor less (so the rest would have gone +to a monastery, according to her will, ha-ha!). And what shows that I +am utterly a louse,” he added, grinding his teeth, “is that I am +perhaps viler and more loathsome than the louse I killed, and _I felt +beforehand_ that I should tell myself so _after_ killing her. Can +anything be compared with the horror of that? The vulgarity! The +abjectness! I understand the ‘prophet’ with his sabre, on his steed: +Allah commands and ‘trembling’ creation must obey! The ‘prophet’ is +right, he is right when he sets a battery across the street and blows up +the innocent and the guilty without deigning to explain! It’s for you to +obey, trembling creation, and not _to have desires_, for that’s not for +you!... I shall never, never forgive the old woman!” + +His hair was soaked with sweat, his quivering lips were parched, his +eyes were fixed on the ceiling. + +“Mother, sister--how I loved them! Why do I hate them now? Yes, I hate +them, I feel a physical hatred for them, I can’t bear them near me.... +I went up to my mother and kissed her, I remember.... To embrace her +and think if she only knew... shall I tell her then? That’s just what +I might do.... _She_ must be the same as I am,” he added, straining +himself to think, as it were struggling with delirium. “Ah, how I hate +the old woman now! I feel I should kill her again if she came to life! +Poor Lizaveta! Why did she come in?... It’s strange though, why is it +I scarcely ever think of her, as though I hadn’t killed her? Lizaveta! +Sonia! Poor gentle things, with gentle eyes.... Dear women! Why don’t +they weep? Why don’t they moan? They give up everything... their eyes +are soft and gentle.... Sonia, Sonia! Gentle Sonia!” + +He lost consciousness; it seemed strange to him that he didn’t remember +how he got into the street. It was late evening. The twilight had fallen +and the full moon was shining more and more brightly; but there was a +peculiar breathlessness in the air. There were crowds of people in the +street; workmen and business people were making their way home; other +people had come out for a walk; there was a smell of mortar, dust and +stagnant water. Raskolnikov walked along, mournful and anxious; he was +distinctly aware of having come out with a purpose, of having to do +something in a hurry, but what it was he had forgotten. Suddenly he +stood still and saw a man standing on the other side of the street, +beckoning to him. He crossed over to him, but at once the man turned and +walked away with his head hanging, as though he had made no sign to +him. “Stay, did he really beckon?” Raskolnikov wondered, but he tried +to overtake him. When he was within ten paces he recognised him and +was frightened; it was the same man with stooping shoulders in the long +coat. Raskolnikov followed him at a distance; his heart was beating; +they went down a turning; the man still did not look round. “Does he +know I am following him?” thought Raskolnikov. The man went into the +gateway of a big house. Raskolnikov hastened to the gate and looked in +to see whether he would look round and sign to him. In the court-yard +the man did turn round and again seemed to beckon him. Raskolnikov at +once followed him into the yard, but the man was gone. He must have +gone up the first staircase. Raskolnikov rushed after him. He heard +slow measured steps two flights above. The staircase seemed strangely +familiar. He reached the window on the first floor; the moon shone +through the panes with a melancholy and mysterious light; then he +reached the second floor. Bah! this is the flat where the painters were +at work... but how was it he did not recognise it at once? The steps +of the man above had died away. “So he must have stopped or hidden +somewhere.” He reached the third storey, should he go on? There was a +stillness that was dreadful.... But he went on. The sound of his own +footsteps scared and frightened him. How dark it was! The man must be +hiding in some corner here. Ah! the flat was standing wide open, he +hesitated and went in. It was very dark and empty in the passage, as +though everything had been removed; he crept on tiptoe into the parlour +which was flooded with moonlight. Everything there was as before, the +chairs, the looking-glass, the yellow sofa and the pictures in the +frames. A huge, round, copper-red moon looked in at the windows. +“It’s the moon that makes it so still, weaving some mystery,” thought +Raskolnikov. He stood and waited, waited a long while, and the more +silent the moonlight, the more violently his heart beat, till it was +painful. And still the same hush. Suddenly he heard a momentary sharp +crack like the snapping of a splinter and all was still again. A fly +flew up suddenly and struck the window pane with a plaintive buzz. At +that moment he noticed in the corner between the window and the little +cupboard something like a cloak hanging on the wall. “Why is that cloak +here?” he thought, “it wasn’t there before....” He went up to it quietly +and felt that there was someone hiding behind it. He cautiously moved +the cloak and saw, sitting on a chair in the corner, the old woman bent +double so that he couldn’t see her face; but it was she. He stood over +her. “She is afraid,” he thought. He stealthily took the axe from the +noose and struck her one blow, then another on the skull. But strange +to say she did not stir, as though she were made of wood. He was +frightened, bent down nearer and tried to look at her; but she, too, +bent her head lower. He bent right down to the ground and peeped up +into her face from below, he peeped and turned cold with horror: the old +woman was sitting and laughing, shaking with noiseless laughter, doing +her utmost that he should not hear it. Suddenly he fancied that the door +from the bedroom was opened a little and that there was laughter and +whispering within. He was overcome with frenzy and he began hitting the +old woman on the head with all his force, but at every blow of the axe +the laughter and whispering from the bedroom grew louder and the old +woman was simply shaking with mirth. He was rushing away, but the +passage was full of people, the doors of the flats stood open and on the +landing, on the stairs and everywhere below there were people, rows of +heads, all looking, but huddled together in silence and expectation. +Something gripped his heart, his legs were rooted to the spot, they +would not move.... He tried to scream and woke up. + +He drew a deep breath--but his dream seemed strangely to persist: +his door was flung open and a man whom he had never seen stood in the +doorway watching him intently. + +Raskolnikov had hardly opened his eyes and he instantly closed them +again. He lay on his back without stirring. + +“Is it still a dream?” he wondered and again raised his eyelids hardly +perceptibly; the stranger was standing in the same place, still watching +him. + +He stepped cautiously into the room, carefully closing the door after +him, went up to the table, paused a moment, still keeping his eyes on +Raskolnikov, and noiselessly seated himself on the chair by the sofa; he +put his hat on the floor beside him and leaned his hands on his cane +and his chin on his hands. It was evident that he was prepared to wait +indefinitely. As far as Raskolnikov could make out from his stolen +glances, he was a man no longer young, stout, with a full, fair, almost +whitish beard. + +Ten minutes passed. It was still light, but beginning to get dusk. There +was complete stillness in the room. Not a sound came from the stairs. +Only a big fly buzzed and fluttered against the window pane. It was +unbearable at last. Raskolnikov suddenly got up and sat on the sofa. + +“Come, tell me what you want.” + +“I knew you were not asleep, but only pretending,” the stranger answered +oddly, laughing calmly. “Arkady Ivanovitch Svidrigaïlov, allow me to +introduce myself....” + + + + +PART IV + + + +CHAPTER I + +“Can this be still a dream?” Raskolnikov thought once more. + +He looked carefully and suspiciously at the unexpected visitor. + +“Svidrigaïlov! What nonsense! It can’t be!” he said at last aloud in +bewilderment. + +His visitor did not seem at all surprised at this exclamation. + +“I’ve come to you for two reasons. In the first place, I wanted to make +your personal acquaintance, as I have already heard a great deal about +you that is interesting and flattering; secondly, I cherish the hope +that you may not refuse to assist me in a matter directly concerning the +welfare of your sister, Avdotya Romanovna. For without your support she +might not let me come near her now, for she is prejudiced against me, +but with your assistance I reckon on...” + +“You reckon wrongly,” interrupted Raskolnikov. + +“They only arrived yesterday, may I ask you?” + +Raskolnikov made no reply. + +“It was yesterday, I know. I only arrived myself the day before. Well, +let me tell you this, Rodion Romanovitch, I don’t consider it necessary +to justify myself, but kindly tell me what was there particularly +criminal on my part in all this business, speaking without prejudice, +with common sense?” + +Raskolnikov continued to look at him in silence. + +“That in my own house I persecuted a defenceless girl and ‘insulted her +with my infamous proposals’--is that it? (I am anticipating you.) But +you’ve only to assume that I, too, am a man _et nihil humanum_... in a +word, that I am capable of being attracted and falling in love (which +does not depend on our will), then everything can be explained in the +most natural manner. The question is, am I a monster, or am I myself +a victim? And what if I am a victim? In proposing to the object of my +passion to elope with me to America or Switzerland, I may have cherished +the deepest respect for her and may have thought that I was promoting +our mutual happiness! Reason is the slave of passion, you know; why, +probably, I was doing more harm to myself than anyone!” + +“But that’s not the point,” Raskolnikov interrupted with disgust. “It’s +simply that whether you are right or wrong, we dislike you. We don’t +want to have anything to do with you. We show you the door. Go out!” + +Svidrigaïlov broke into a sudden laugh. + +“But you’re... but there’s no getting round you,” he said, laughing in +the frankest way. “I hoped to get round you, but you took up the right +line at once!” + +“But you are trying to get round me still!” + +“What of it? What of it?” cried Svidrigaïlov, laughing openly. “But this +is what the French call _bonne guerre_, and the most innocent form of +deception!... But still you have interrupted me; one way or another, I +repeat again: there would never have been any unpleasantness except for +what happened in the garden. Marfa Petrovna...” + +“You have got rid of Marfa Petrovna, too, so they say?” Raskolnikov +interrupted rudely. + +“Oh, you’ve heard that, too, then? You’d be sure to, though.... But +as for your question, I really don’t know what to say, though my own +conscience is quite at rest on that score. Don’t suppose that I am in +any apprehension about it. All was regular and in order; the medical +inquiry diagnosed apoplexy due to bathing immediately after a heavy +dinner and a bottle of wine, and indeed it could have proved nothing +else. But I’ll tell you what I have been thinking to myself of late, on +my way here in the train, especially: didn’t I contribute to all that... +calamity, morally, in a way, by irritation or something of the +sort. But I came to the conclusion that that, too, was quite out of the +question.” + +Raskolnikov laughed. + +“I wonder you trouble yourself about it!” + +“But what are you laughing at? Only consider, I struck her just twice +with a switch--there were no marks even... don’t regard me as a cynic, +please; I am perfectly aware how atrocious it was of me and all that; +but I know for certain, too, that Marfa Petrovna was very likely pleased +at my, so to say, warmth. The story of your sister had been wrung out to +the last drop; for the last three days Marfa Petrovna had been forced to +sit at home; she had nothing to show herself with in the town. Besides, +she had bored them so with that letter (you heard about her reading the +letter). And all of a sudden those two switches fell from heaven! Her +first act was to order the carriage to be got out.... Not to speak +of the fact that there are cases when women are very, very glad to be +insulted in spite of all their show of indignation. There are instances +of it with everyone; human beings in general, indeed, greatly love to +be insulted, have you noticed that? But it’s particularly so with women. +One might even say it’s their only amusement.” + +At one time Raskolnikov thought of getting up and walking out and so +finishing the interview. But some curiosity and even a sort of prudence +made him linger for a moment. + +“You are fond of fighting?” he asked carelessly. + +“No, not very,” Svidrigaïlov answered, calmly. “And Marfa Petrovna and +I scarcely ever fought. We lived very harmoniously, and she was always +pleased with me. I only used the whip twice in all our seven years (not +counting a third occasion of a very ambiguous character). The first +time, two months after our marriage, immediately after we arrived in the +country, and the last time was that of which we are speaking. Did you +suppose I was such a monster, such a reactionary, such a slave driver? +Ha, ha! By the way, do you remember, Rodion Romanovitch, how a few years +ago, in those days of beneficent publicity, a nobleman, I’ve forgotten +his name, was put to shame everywhere, in all the papers, for having +thrashed a German woman in the railway train. You remember? It was in +those days, that very year I believe, the ‘disgraceful action of the +_Age_’ took place (you know, ‘The Egyptian Nights,’ that public reading, +you remember? The dark eyes, you know! Ah, the golden days of our youth, +where are they?). Well, as for the gentleman who thrashed the German, +I feel no sympathy with him, because after all what need is there +for sympathy? But I must say that there are sometimes such provoking +‘Germans’ that I don’t believe there is a progressive who could quite +answer for himself. No one looked at the subject from that point of view +then, but that’s the truly humane point of view, I assure you.” + +After saying this, Svidrigaïlov broke into a sudden laugh again. +Raskolnikov saw clearly that this was a man with a firm purpose in his +mind and able to keep it to himself. + +“I expect you’ve not talked to anyone for some days?” he asked. + +“Scarcely anyone. I suppose you are wondering at my being such an +adaptable man?” + +“No, I am only wondering at your being too adaptable a man.” + +“Because I am not offended at the rudeness of your questions? Is that +it? But why take offence? As you asked, so I answered,” he replied, +with a surprising expression of simplicity. “You know, there’s +hardly anything I take interest in,” he went on, as it were dreamily, +“especially now, I’ve nothing to do.... You are quite at liberty to +imagine though that I am making up to you with a motive, particularly as +I told you I want to see your sister about something. But I’ll confess +frankly, I am very much bored. The last three days especially, so I am +delighted to see you.... Don’t be angry, Rodion Romanovitch, but you +seem to be somehow awfully strange yourself. Say what you like, there’s +something wrong with you, and now, too... not this very minute, I mean, +but now, generally.... Well, well, I won’t, I won’t, don’t scowl! I am +not such a bear, you know, as you think.” + +Raskolnikov looked gloomily at him. + +“You are not a bear, perhaps, at all,” he said. “I fancy indeed that +you are a man of very good breeding, or at least know how on occasion to +behave like one.” + +“I am not particularly interested in anyone’s opinion,” Svidrigaïlov +answered, dryly and even with a shade of haughtiness, “and therefore why +not be vulgar at times when vulgarity is such a convenient cloak for our +climate... and especially if one has a natural propensity that way,” he +added, laughing again. + +“But I’ve heard you have many friends here. You are, as they say, ‘not +without connections.’ What can you want with me, then, unless you’ve +some special object?” + +“That’s true that I have friends here,” Svidrigaïlov admitted, not +replying to the chief point. “I’ve met some already. I’ve been lounging +about for the last three days, and I’ve seen them, or they’ve seen me. +That’s a matter of course. I am well dressed and reckoned not a poor +man; the emancipation of the serfs hasn’t affected me; my property +consists chiefly of forests and water meadows. The revenue has not +fallen off; but... I am not going to see them, I was sick of them long +ago. I’ve been here three days and have called on no one.... What a town +it is! How has it come into existence among us, tell me that? A town of +officials and students of all sorts. Yes, there’s a great deal I didn’t +notice when I was here eight years ago, kicking up my heels.... My only +hope now is in anatomy, by Jove, it is!” + +“Anatomy?” + +“But as for these clubs, Dussauts, parades, or progress, indeed, +maybe--well, all that can go on without me,” he went on, again without +noticing the question. “Besides, who wants to be a card-sharper?” + +“Why, have you been a card-sharper then?” + +“How could I help being? There was a regular set of us, men of the best +society, eight years ago; we had a fine time. And all men of breeding, +you know, poets, men of property. And indeed as a rule in our Russian +society the best manners are found among those who’ve been thrashed, +have you noticed that? I’ve deteriorated in the country. But I did get +into prison for debt, through a low Greek who came from Nezhin. Then +Marfa Petrovna turned up; she bargained with him and bought me off for +thirty thousand silver pieces (I owed seventy thousand). We were united +in lawful wedlock and she bore me off into the country like a treasure. +You know she was five years older than I. She was very fond of me. For +seven years I never left the country. And, take note, that all my life +she held a document over me, the IOU for thirty thousand roubles, so +if I were to elect to be restive about anything I should be trapped at +once! And she would have done it! Women find nothing incompatible in +that.” + +“If it hadn’t been for that, would you have given her the slip?” + +“I don’t know what to say. It was scarcely the document restrained me. I +didn’t want to go anywhere else. Marfa Petrovna herself invited me to go +abroad, seeing I was bored, but I’ve been abroad before, and always +felt sick there. For no reason, but the sunrise, the bay of Naples, the +sea--you look at them and it makes you sad. What’s most revolting is +that one is really sad! No, it’s better at home. Here at least one +blames others for everything and excuses oneself. I should have gone +perhaps on an expedition to the North Pole, because _j’ai le vin +mauvais_ and hate drinking, and there’s nothing left but wine. I have +tried it. But, I say, I’ve been told Berg is going up in a great balloon +next Sunday from the Yusupov Garden and will take up passengers at a +fee. Is it true?” + +“Why, would you go up?” + +“I... No, oh, no,” muttered Svidrigaïlov really seeming to be deep in +thought. + +“What does he mean? Is he in earnest?” Raskolnikov wondered. + +“No, the document didn’t restrain me,” Svidrigaïlov went on, +meditatively. “It was my own doing, not leaving the country, and nearly +a year ago Marfa Petrovna gave me back the document on my name-day +and made me a present of a considerable sum of money, too. She had a +fortune, you know. ‘You see how I trust you, Arkady Ivanovitch’--that +was actually her expression. You don’t believe she used it? But do +you know I managed the estate quite decently, they know me in the +neighbourhood. I ordered books, too. Marfa Petrovna at first approved, +but afterwards she was afraid of my over-studying.” + +“You seem to be missing Marfa Petrovna very much?” + +“Missing her? Perhaps. Really, perhaps I am. And, by the way, do you +believe in ghosts?” + +“What ghosts?” + +“Why, ordinary ghosts.” + +“Do you believe in them?” + +“Perhaps not, _pour vous plaire_.... I wouldn’t say no exactly.” + +“Do you see them, then?” + +Svidrigaïlov looked at him rather oddly. + +“Marfa Petrovna is pleased to visit me,” he said, twisting his mouth +into a strange smile. + +“How do you mean ‘she is pleased to visit you’?” + +“She has been three times. I saw her first on the very day of the +funeral, an hour after she was buried. It was the day before I left to +come here. The second time was the day before yesterday, at daybreak, on +the journey at the station of Malaya Vishera, and the third time was two +hours ago in the room where I am staying. I was alone.” + +“Were you awake?” + +“Quite awake. I was wide awake every time. She comes, speaks to me for +a minute and goes out at the door--always at the door. I can almost hear +her.” + +“What made me think that something of the sort must be happening to +you?” Raskolnikov said suddenly. + +At the same moment he was surprised at having said it. He was much +excited. + +“What! Did you think so?” Svidrigaïlov asked in astonishment. “Did you +really? Didn’t I say that there was something in common between us, eh?” + +“You never said so!” Raskolnikov cried sharply and with heat. + +“Didn’t I?” + +“No!” + +“I thought I did. When I came in and saw you lying with your eyes shut, +pretending, I said to myself at once, ‘Here’s the man.’” + +“What do you mean by ‘the man?’ What are you talking about?” cried +Raskolnikov. + +“What do I mean? I really don’t know....” Svidrigaïlov muttered +ingenuously, as though he, too, were puzzled. + +For a minute they were silent. They stared in each other’s faces. + +“That’s all nonsense!” Raskolnikov shouted with vexation. “What does she +say when she comes to you?” + +“She! Would you believe it, she talks of the silliest trifles and--man +is a strange creature--it makes me angry. The first time she came in (I +was tired you know: the funeral service, the funeral ceremony, the lunch +afterwards. At last I was left alone in my study. I lighted a cigar and +began to think), she came in at the door. ‘You’ve been so busy to-day, +Arkady Ivanovitch, you have forgotten to wind the dining-room clock,’ +she said. All those seven years I’ve wound that clock every week, and if +I forgot it she would always remind me. The next day I set off on my way +here. I got out at the station at daybreak; I’d been asleep, tired out, +with my eyes half open, I was drinking some coffee. I looked up and +there was suddenly Marfa Petrovna sitting beside me with a pack of +cards in her hands. ‘Shall I tell your fortune for the journey, Arkady +Ivanovitch?’ She was a great hand at telling fortunes. I shall never +forgive myself for not asking her to. I ran away in a fright, and, +besides, the bell rang. I was sitting to-day, feeling very heavy after a +miserable dinner from a cookshop; I was sitting smoking, all of a sudden +Marfa Petrovna again. She came in very smart in a new green silk dress +with a long train. ‘Good day, Arkady Ivanovitch! How do you like my +dress? Aniska can’t make like this.’ (Aniska was a dressmaker in the +country, one of our former serf girls who had been trained in Moscow, a +pretty wench.) She stood turning round before me. I looked at the dress, +and then I looked carefully, very carefully, at her face. ‘I wonder +you trouble to come to me about such trifles, Marfa Petrovna.’ ‘Good +gracious, you won’t let one disturb you about anything!’ To tease her +I said, ‘I want to get married, Marfa Petrovna.’ ‘That’s just like you, +Arkady Ivanovitch; it does you very little credit to come looking for a +bride when you’ve hardly buried your wife. And if you could make a good +choice, at least, but I know it won’t be for your happiness or hers, you +will only be a laughing-stock to all good people.’ Then she went out and +her train seemed to rustle. Isn’t it nonsense, eh?” + +“But perhaps you are telling lies?” Raskolnikov put in. + +“I rarely lie,” answered Svidrigaïlov thoughtfully, apparently not +noticing the rudeness of the question. + +“And in the past, have you ever seen ghosts before?” + +“Y-yes, I have seen them, but only once in my life, six years ago. I had +a serf, Filka; just after his burial I called out forgetting ‘Filka, my +pipe!’ He came in and went to the cupboard where my pipes were. I sat +still and thought ‘he is doing it out of revenge,’ because we had a +violent quarrel just before his death. ‘How dare you come in with a hole +in your elbow?’ I said. ‘Go away, you scamp!’ He turned and went out, +and never came again. I didn’t tell Marfa Petrovna at the time. I wanted +to have a service sung for him, but I was ashamed.” + +“You should go to a doctor.” + +“I know I am not well, without your telling me, though I don’t know +what’s wrong; I believe I am five times as strong as you are. I didn’t +ask you whether you believe that ghosts are seen, but whether you +believe that they exist.” + +“No, I won’t believe it!” Raskolnikov cried, with positive anger. + +“What do people generally say?” muttered Svidrigaïlov, as though +speaking to himself, looking aside and bowing his head. “They say, ‘You +are ill, so what appears to you is only unreal fantasy.’ But that’s not +strictly logical. I agree that ghosts only appear to the sick, but that +only proves that they are unable to appear except to the sick, not that +they don’t exist.” + +“Nothing of the sort,” Raskolnikov insisted irritably. + +“No? You don’t think so?” Svidrigaïlov went on, looking at him +deliberately. “But what do you say to this argument (help me with +it): ghosts are, as it were, shreds and fragments of other worlds, the +beginning of them. A man in health has, of course, no reason to see +them, because he is above all a man of this earth and is bound for the +sake of completeness and order to live only in this life. But as soon +as one is ill, as soon as the normal earthly order of the organism is +broken, one begins to realise the possibility of another world; and the +more seriously ill one is, the closer becomes one’s contact with that +other world, so that as soon as the man dies he steps straight into that +world. I thought of that long ago. If you believe in a future life, you +could believe in that, too.” + +“I don’t believe in a future life,” said Raskolnikov. + +Svidrigaïlov sat lost in thought. + +“And what if there are only spiders there, or something of that sort,” + he said suddenly. + +“He is a madman,” thought Raskolnikov. + +“We always imagine eternity as something beyond our conception, +something vast, vast! But why must it be vast? Instead of all that, what +if it’s one little room, like a bath house in the country, black +and grimy and spiders in every corner, and that’s all eternity is? I +sometimes fancy it like that.” + +“Can it be you can imagine nothing juster and more comforting than +that?” Raskolnikov cried, with a feeling of anguish. + +“Juster? And how can we tell, perhaps that is just, and do you know +it’s what I would certainly have made it,” answered Svidrigaïlov, with a +vague smile. + +This horrible answer sent a cold chill through Raskolnikov. Svidrigaïlov +raised his head, looked at him, and suddenly began laughing. + +“Only think,” he cried, “half an hour ago we had never seen each other, +we regarded each other as enemies; there is a matter unsettled between +us; we’ve thrown it aside, and away we’ve gone into the abstract! Wasn’t +I right in saying that we were birds of a feather?” + +“Kindly allow me,” Raskolnikov went on irritably, “to ask you to explain +why you have honoured me with your visit... and... and I am in a hurry, +I have no time to waste. I want to go out.” + +“By all means, by all means. Your sister, Avdotya Romanovna, is going to +be married to Mr. Luzhin, Pyotr Petrovitch?” + +“Can you refrain from any question about my sister and from mentioning +her name? I can’t understand how you dare utter her name in my presence, +if you really are Svidrigaïlov.” + +“Why, but I’ve come here to speak about her; how can I avoid mentioning +her?” + +“Very good, speak, but make haste.” + +“I am sure that you must have formed your own opinion of this Mr. +Luzhin, who is a connection of mine through my wife, if you have only +seen him for half an hour, or heard any facts about him. He is no +match for Avdotya Romanovna. I believe Avdotya Romanovna is sacrificing +herself generously and imprudently for the sake of... for the sake of +her family. I fancied from all I had heard of you that you would be very +glad if the match could be broken off without the sacrifice of worldly +advantages. Now I know you personally, I am convinced of it.” + +“All this is very naïve... excuse me, I should have said impudent on +your part,” said Raskolnikov. + +“You mean to say that I am seeking my own ends. Don’t be uneasy, Rodion +Romanovitch, if I were working for my own advantage, I would not have +spoken out so directly. I am not quite a fool. I will confess something +psychologically curious about that: just now, defending my love for +Avdotya Romanovna, I said I was myself the victim. Well, let me tell you +that I’ve no feeling of love now, not the slightest, so that I wonder +myself indeed, for I really did feel something...” + +“Through idleness and depravity,” Raskolnikov put in. + +“I certainly am idle and depraved, but your sister has such qualities +that even I could not help being impressed by them. But that’s all +nonsense, as I see myself now.” + +“Have you seen that long?” + +“I began to be aware of it before, but was only perfectly sure of it the +day before yesterday, almost at the moment I arrived in Petersburg. I +still fancied in Moscow, though, that I was coming to try to get Avdotya +Romanovna’s hand and to cut out Mr. Luzhin.” + +“Excuse me for interrupting you; kindly be brief, and come to the object +of your visit. I am in a hurry, I want to go out...” + +“With the greatest pleasure. On arriving here and determining on a +certain... journey, I should like to make some necessary preliminary +arrangements. I left my children with an aunt; they are well provided +for; and they have no need of me personally. And a nice father I should +make, too! I have taken nothing but what Marfa Petrovna gave me a year +ago. That’s enough for me. Excuse me, I am just coming to the point. +Before the journey which may come off, I want to settle Mr. Luzhin, too. +It’s not that I detest him so much, but it was through him I quarrelled +with Marfa Petrovna when I learned that she had dished up this marriage. +I want now to see Avdotya Romanovna through your mediation, and if you +like in your presence, to explain to her that in the first place she +will never gain anything but harm from Mr. Luzhin. Then, begging +her pardon for all past unpleasantness, to make her a present of ten +thousand roubles and so assist the rupture with Mr. Luzhin, a rupture to +which I believe she is herself not disinclined, if she could see the way +to it.” + +“You are certainly mad,” cried Raskolnikov not so much angered as +astonished. “How dare you talk like that!” + +“I knew you would scream at me; but in the first place, though I am not +rich, this ten thousand roubles is perfectly free; I have absolutely no +need for it. If Avdotya Romanovna does not accept it, I shall waste +it in some more foolish way. That’s the first thing. Secondly, my +conscience is perfectly easy; I make the offer with no ulterior motive. +You may not believe it, but in the end Avdotya Romanovna and you will +know. The point is, that I did actually cause your sister, whom I +greatly respect, some trouble and unpleasantness, and so, sincerely +regretting it, I want--not to compensate, not to repay her for the +unpleasantness, but simply to do something to her advantage, to show +that I am not, after all, privileged to do nothing but harm. If there +were a millionth fraction of self-interest in my offer, I should not +have made it so openly; and I should not have offered her ten thousand +only, when five weeks ago I offered her more, Besides, I may, perhaps, +very soon marry a young lady, and that alone ought to prevent suspicion +of any design on Avdotya Romanovna. In conclusion, let me say that +in marrying Mr. Luzhin, she is taking money just the same, only from +another man. Don’t be angry, Rodion Romanovitch, think it over coolly +and quietly.” + +Svidrigaïlov himself was exceedingly cool and quiet as he was saying +this. + +“I beg you to say no more,” said Raskolnikov. “In any case this is +unpardonable impertinence.” + +“Not in the least. Then a man may do nothing but harm to his neighbour +in this world, and is prevented from doing the tiniest bit of good +by trivial conventional formalities. That’s absurd. If I died, for +instance, and left that sum to your sister in my will, surely she +wouldn’t refuse it?” + +“Very likely she would.” + +“Oh, no, indeed. However, if you refuse it, so be it, though ten +thousand roubles is a capital thing to have on occasion. In any case I +beg you to repeat what I have said to Avdotya Romanovna.” + +“No, I won’t.” + +“In that case, Rodion Romanovitch, I shall be obliged to try and see her +myself and worry her by doing so.” + +“And if I do tell her, will you not try to see her?” + +“I don’t know really what to say. I should like very much to see her +once more.” + +“Don’t hope for it.” + +“I’m sorry. But you don’t know me. Perhaps we may become better +friends.” + +“You think we may become friends?” + +“And why not?” Svidrigaïlov said, smiling. He stood up and took his hat. +“I didn’t quite intend to disturb you and I came here without reckoning +on it... though I was very much struck by your face this morning.” + +“Where did you see me this morning?” Raskolnikov asked uneasily. + +“I saw you by chance.... I kept fancying there is something about you +like me.... But don’t be uneasy. I am not intrusive; I used to get on +all right with card-sharpers, and I never bored Prince Svirbey, a great +personage who is a distant relation of mine, and I could write about +Raphael’s _Madonna_ in Madam Prilukov’s album, and I never left Marfa +Petrovna’s side for seven years, and I used to stay the night at +Viazemsky’s house in the Hay Market in the old days, and I may go up in +a balloon with Berg, perhaps.” + +“Oh, all right. Are you starting soon on your travels, may I ask?” + +“What travels?” + +“Why, on that ‘journey’; you spoke of it yourself.” + +“A journey? Oh, yes. I did speak of a journey. Well, that’s a wide +subject.... if only you knew what you are asking,” he added, and gave +a sudden, loud, short laugh. “Perhaps I’ll get married instead of the +journey. They’re making a match for me.” + +“Here?” + +“Yes.” + +“How have you had time for that?” + +“But I am very anxious to see Avdotya Romanovna once. I earnestly beg +it. Well, good-bye for the present. Oh, yes. I have forgotten something. +Tell your sister, Rodion Romanovitch, that Marfa Petrovna remembered +her in her will and left her three thousand roubles. That’s absolutely +certain. Marfa Petrovna arranged it a week before her death, and it was +done in my presence. Avdotya Romanovna will be able to receive the money +in two or three weeks.” + +“Are you telling the truth?” + +“Yes, tell her. Well, your servant. I am staying very near you.” + +As he went out, Svidrigaïlov ran up against Razumihin in the doorway. + + + +CHAPTER II + +It was nearly eight o’clock. The two young men hurried to Bakaleyev’s, +to arrive before Luzhin. + +“Why, who was that?” asked Razumihin, as soon as they were in the +street. + +“It was Svidrigaïlov, that landowner in whose house my sister was +insulted when she was their governess. Through his persecuting her with +his attentions, she was turned out by his wife, Marfa Petrovna. This +Marfa Petrovna begged Dounia’s forgiveness afterwards, and she’s just +died suddenly. It was of her we were talking this morning. I don’t +know why I’m afraid of that man. He came here at once after his wife’s +funeral. He is very strange, and is determined on doing something.... We +must guard Dounia from him... that’s what I wanted to tell you, do you +hear?” + +“Guard her! What can he do to harm Avdotya Romanovna? Thank you, Rodya, +for speaking to me like that.... We will, we will guard her. Where does +he live?” + +“I don’t know.” + +“Why didn’t you ask? What a pity! I’ll find out, though.” + +“Did you see him?” asked Raskolnikov after a pause. + +“Yes, I noticed him, I noticed him well.” + +“You did really see him? You saw him clearly?” Raskolnikov insisted. + +“Yes, I remember him perfectly, I should know him in a thousand; I have +a good memory for faces.” + +They were silent again. + +“Hm!... that’s all right,” muttered Raskolnikov. “Do you know, I +fancied... I keep thinking that it may have been an hallucination.” + +“What do you mean? I don’t understand you.” + +“Well, you all say,” Raskolnikov went on, twisting his mouth into a +smile, “that I am mad. I thought just now that perhaps I really am mad, +and have only seen a phantom.” + +“What do you mean?” + +“Why, who can tell? Perhaps I am really mad, and perhaps everything that +happened all these days may be only imagination.” + +“Ach, Rodya, you have been upset again!... But what did he say, what did +he come for?” + +Raskolnikov did not answer. Razumihin thought a minute. + +“Now let me tell you my story,” he began, “I came to you, you were +asleep. Then we had dinner and then I went to Porfiry’s, Zametov was +still with him. I tried to begin, but it was no use. I couldn’t speak in +the right way. They don’t seem to understand and can’t understand, but +are not a bit ashamed. I drew Porfiry to the window, and began talking +to him, but it was still no use. He looked away and I looked away. At +last I shook my fist in his ugly face, and told him as a cousin I’d +brain him. He merely looked at me, I cursed and came away. That was +all. It was very stupid. To Zametov I didn’t say a word. But, you see, I +thought I’d made a mess of it, but as I went downstairs a brilliant idea +struck me: why should we trouble? Of course if you were in any danger +or anything, but why need you care? You needn’t care a hang for them. We +shall have a laugh at them afterwards, and if I were in your place I’d +mystify them more than ever. How ashamed they’ll be afterwards! Hang +them! We can thrash them afterwards, but let’s laugh at them now!” + +“To be sure,” answered Raskolnikov. “But what will you say to-morrow?” + he thought to himself. Strange to say, till that moment it had never +occurred to him to wonder what Razumihin would think when he knew. As he +thought it, Raskolnikov looked at him. Razumihin’s account of his visit +to Porfiry had very little interest for him, so much had come and gone +since then. + +In the corridor they came upon Luzhin; he had arrived punctually +at eight, and was looking for the number, so that all three went in +together without greeting or looking at one another. The young men +walked in first, while Pyotr Petrovitch, for good manners, lingered a +little in the passage, taking off his coat. Pulcheria Alexandrovna came +forward at once to greet him in the doorway, Dounia was welcoming her +brother. Pyotr Petrovitch walked in and quite amiably, though with +redoubled dignity, bowed to the ladies. He looked, however, as though +he were a little put out and could not yet recover himself. Pulcheria +Alexandrovna, who seemed also a little embarrassed, hastened to make +them all sit down at the round table where a samovar was boiling. Dounia +and Luzhin were facing one another on opposite sides of the table. +Razumihin and Raskolnikov were facing Pulcheria Alexandrovna, Razumihin +was next to Luzhin and Raskolnikov was beside his sister. + +A moment’s silence followed. Pyotr Petrovitch deliberately drew out a +cambric handkerchief reeking of scent and blew his nose with an air of +a benevolent man who felt himself slighted, and was firmly resolved to +insist on an explanation. In the passage the idea had occurred to him to +keep on his overcoat and walk away, and so give the two ladies a sharp +and emphatic lesson and make them feel the gravity of the position. +But he could not bring himself to do this. Besides, he could not endure +uncertainty, and he wanted an explanation: if his request had been so +openly disobeyed, there was something behind it, and in that case it was +better to find it out beforehand; it rested with him to punish them and +there would always be time for that. + +“I trust you had a favourable journey,” he inquired officially of +Pulcheria Alexandrovna. + +“Oh, very, Pyotr Petrovitch.” + +“I am gratified to hear it. And Avdotya Romanovna is not over-fatigued +either?” + +“I am young and strong, I don’t get tired, but it was a great strain for +mother,” answered Dounia. + +“That’s unavoidable! our national railways are of terrible length. +‘Mother Russia,’ as they say, is a vast country.... In spite of all my +desire to do so, I was unable to meet you yesterday. But I trust all +passed off without inconvenience?” + +“Oh, no, Pyotr Petrovitch, it was all terribly disheartening,” Pulcheria +Alexandrovna hastened to declare with peculiar intonation, “and if +Dmitri Prokofitch had not been sent us, I really believe by God Himself, +we should have been utterly lost. Here, he is! Dmitri Prokofitch +Razumihin,” she added, introducing him to Luzhin. + +“I had the pleasure... yesterday,” muttered Pyotr Petrovitch with a +hostile glance sidelong at Razumihin; then he scowled and was silent. + +Pyotr Petrovitch belonged to that class of persons, on the surface very +polite in society, who make a great point of punctiliousness, but who, +directly they are crossed in anything, are completely disconcerted, and +become more like sacks of flour than elegant and lively men of society. +Again all was silent; Raskolnikov was obstinately mute, Avdotya +Romanovna was unwilling to open the conversation too soon. Razumihin had +nothing to say, so Pulcheria Alexandrovna was anxious again. + +“Marfa Petrovna is dead, have you heard?” she began having recourse to +her leading item of conversation. + +“To be sure, I heard so. I was immediately informed, and I have come to +make you acquainted with the fact that Arkady Ivanovitch Svidrigaïlov +set off in haste for Petersburg immediately after his wife’s funeral. So +at least I have excellent authority for believing.” + +“To Petersburg? here?” Dounia asked in alarm and looked at her mother. + +“Yes, indeed, and doubtless not without some design, having in view the +rapidity of his departure, and all the circumstances preceding it.” + +“Good heavens! won’t he leave Dounia in peace even here?” cried +Pulcheria Alexandrovna. + +“I imagine that neither you nor Avdotya Romanovna have any grounds for +uneasiness, unless, of course, you are yourselves desirous of getting +into communication with him. For my part I am on my guard, and am now +discovering where he is lodging.” + +“Oh, Pyotr Petrovitch, you would not believe what a fright you have +given me,” Pulcheria Alexandrovna went on: “I’ve only seen him twice, +but I thought him terrible, terrible! I am convinced that he was the +cause of Marfa Petrovna’s death.” + +“It’s impossible to be certain about that. I have precise information. I +do not dispute that he may have contributed to accelerate the course of +events by the moral influence, so to say, of the affront; but as to the +general conduct and moral characteristics of that personage, I am +in agreement with you. I do not know whether he is well off now, and +precisely what Marfa Petrovna left him; this will be known to me within +a very short period; but no doubt here in Petersburg, if he has any +pecuniary resources, he will relapse at once into his old ways. He is +the most depraved, and abjectly vicious specimen of that class of men. +I have considerable reason to believe that Marfa Petrovna, who was so +unfortunate as to fall in love with him and to pay his debts eight years +ago, was of service to him also in another way. Solely by her exertions +and sacrifices, a criminal charge, involving an element of fantastic +and homicidal brutality for which he might well have been sentenced to +Siberia, was hushed up. That’s the sort of man he is, if you care to +know.” + +“Good heavens!” cried Pulcheria Alexandrovna. Raskolnikov listened +attentively. + +“Are you speaking the truth when you say that you have good evidence of +this?” Dounia asked sternly and emphatically. + +“I only repeat what I was told in secret by Marfa Petrovna. I must +observe that from the legal point of view the case was far from clear. +There was, and I believe still is, living here a woman called Resslich, +a foreigner, who lent small sums of money at interest, and did other +commissions, and with this woman Svidrigaïlov had for a long while close +and mysterious relations. She had a relation, a niece I believe, living +with her, a deaf and dumb girl of fifteen, or perhaps not more than +fourteen. Resslich hated this girl, and grudged her every crust; she +used to beat her mercilessly. One day the girl was found hanging in +the garret. At the inquest the verdict was suicide. After the usual +proceedings the matter ended, but, later on, information was given that +the child had been... cruelly outraged by Svidrigaïlov. It is true, this +was not clearly established, the information was given by another German +woman of loose character whose word could not be trusted; no statement +was actually made to the police, thanks to Marfa Petrovna’s money and +exertions; it did not get beyond gossip. And yet the story is a very +significant one. You heard, no doubt, Avdotya Romanovna, when you were +with them the story of the servant Philip who died of ill treatment he +received six years ago, before the abolition of serfdom.” + +“I heard, on the contrary, that this Philip hanged himself.” + +“Quite so, but what drove him, or rather perhaps disposed him, +to suicide was the systematic persecution and severity of Mr. +Svidrigaïlov.” + +“I don’t know that,” answered Dounia, dryly. “I only heard a queer story +that Philip was a sort of hypochondriac, a sort of domestic philosopher, +the servants used to say, ‘he read himself silly,’ and that he hanged +himself partly on account of Mr. Svidrigaïlov’s mockery of him and not +his blows. When I was there he behaved well to the servants, and they +were actually fond of him, though they certainly did blame him for +Philip’s death.” + +“I perceive, Avdotya Romanovna, that you seem disposed to undertake his +defence all of a sudden,” Luzhin observed, twisting his lips into +an ambiguous smile, “there’s no doubt that he is an astute man, and +insinuating where ladies are concerned, of which Marfa Petrovna, who has +died so strangely, is a terrible instance. My only desire has been to be +of service to you and your mother with my advice, in view of the renewed +efforts which may certainly be anticipated from him. For my part it’s +my firm conviction, that he will end in a debtor’s prison again. +Marfa Petrovna had not the slightest intention of settling anything +substantial on him, having regard for his children’s interests, and, +if she left him anything, it would only be the merest sufficiency, +something insignificant and ephemeral, which would not last a year for a +man of his habits.” + +“Pyotr Petrovitch, I beg you,” said Dounia, “say no more of Mr. +Svidrigaïlov. It makes me miserable.” + +“He has just been to see me,” said Raskolnikov, breaking his silence for +the first time. + +There were exclamations from all, and they all turned to him. Even Pyotr +Petrovitch was roused. + +“An hour and a half ago, he came in when I was asleep, waked me, and +introduced himself,” Raskolnikov continued. “He was fairly cheerful +and at ease, and quite hopes that we shall become friends. He is +particularly anxious, by the way, Dounia, for an interview with you, at +which he asked me to assist. He has a proposition to make to you, and +he told me about it. He told me, too, that a week before her death Marfa +Petrovna left you three thousand roubles in her will, Dounia, and that +you can receive the money very shortly.” + +“Thank God!” cried Pulcheria Alexandrovna, crossing herself. “Pray for +her soul, Dounia!” + +“It’s a fact!” broke from Luzhin. + +“Tell us, what more?” Dounia urged Raskolnikov. + +“Then he said that he wasn’t rich and all the estate was left to his +children who are now with an aunt, then that he was staying somewhere +not far from me, but where, I don’t know, I didn’t ask....” + +“But what, what does he want to propose to Dounia?” cried Pulcheria +Alexandrovna in a fright. “Did he tell you?” + +“Yes.” + +“What was it?” + +“I’ll tell you afterwards.” + +Raskolnikov ceased speaking and turned his attention to his tea. + +Pyotr Petrovitch looked at his watch. + +“I am compelled to keep a business engagement, and so I shall not be in +your way,” he added with an air of some pique and he began getting up. + +“Don’t go, Pyotr Petrovitch,” said Dounia, “you intended to spend +the evening. Besides, you wrote yourself that you wanted to have an +explanation with mother.” + +“Precisely so, Avdotya Romanovna,” Pyotr Petrovitch answered +impressively, sitting down again, but still holding his hat. “I +certainly desired an explanation with you and your honoured mother upon +a very important point indeed. But as your brother cannot speak openly +in my presence of some proposals of Mr. Svidrigaïlov, I, too, do not +desire and am not able to speak openly... in the presence of others... +of certain matters of the greatest gravity. Moreover, my most weighty +and urgent request has been disregarded....” + +Assuming an aggrieved air, Luzhin relapsed into dignified silence. + +“Your request that my brother should not be present at our meeting was +disregarded solely at my insistance,” said Dounia. “You wrote that you +had been insulted by my brother; I think that this must be explained at +once, and you must be reconciled. And if Rodya really has insulted you, +then he _should_ and _will_ apologise.” + +Pyotr Petrovitch took a stronger line. + +“There are insults, Avdotya Romanovna, which no goodwill can make us +forget. There is a line in everything which it is dangerous to overstep; +and when it has been overstepped, there is no return.” + +“That wasn’t what I was speaking of exactly, Pyotr Petrovitch,” Dounia +interrupted with some impatience. “Please understand that our whole +future depends now on whether all this is explained and set right as +soon as possible. I tell you frankly at the start that I cannot look at +it in any other light, and if you have the least regard for me, all this +business must be ended to-day, however hard that may be. I repeat that +if my brother is to blame he will ask your forgiveness.” + +“I am surprised at your putting the question like that,” said Luzhin, +getting more and more irritated. “Esteeming, and so to say, adoring you, +I may at the same time, very well indeed, be able to dislike some member +of your family. Though I lay claim to the happiness of your hand, I +cannot accept duties incompatible with...” + +“Ah, don’t be so ready to take offence, Pyotr Petrovitch,” Dounia +interrupted with feeling, “and be the sensible and generous man I have +always considered, and wish to consider, you to be. I’ve given you a +great promise, I am your betrothed. Trust me in this matter and, believe +me, I shall be capable of judging impartially. My assuming the part of +judge is as much a surprise for my brother as for you. When I insisted +on his coming to our interview to-day after your letter, I told +him nothing of what I meant to do. Understand that, if you are not +reconciled, I must choose between you--it must be either you or he. That +is how the question rests on your side and on his. I don’t want to be +mistaken in my choice, and I must not be. For your sake I must break off +with my brother, for my brother’s sake I must break off with you. I can +find out for certain now whether he is a brother to me, and I want to +know it; and of you, whether I am dear to you, whether you esteem me, +whether you are the husband for me.” + +“Avdotya Romanovna,” Luzhin declared huffily, “your words are of too +much consequence to me; I will say more, they are offensive in view +of the position I have the honour to occupy in relation to you. To say +nothing of your strange and offensive setting me on a level with an +impertinent boy, you admit the possibility of breaking your promise to +me. You say ‘you or he,’ showing thereby of how little consequence I +am in your eyes... I cannot let this pass considering the relationship +and... the obligations existing between us.” + +“What!” cried Dounia, flushing. “I set your interest beside all that has +hitherto been most precious in my life, what has made up the _whole_ of +my life, and here you are offended at my making too _little_ account of +you.” + +Raskolnikov smiled sarcastically, Razumihin fidgeted, but Pyotr +Petrovitch did not accept the reproof; on the contrary, at every word he +became more persistent and irritable, as though he relished it. + +“Love for the future partner of your life, for your husband, ought to +outweigh your love for your brother,” he pronounced sententiously, “and +in any case I cannot be put on the same level.... Although I said so +emphatically that I would not speak openly in your brother’s presence, +nevertheless, I intend now to ask your honoured mother for a necessary +explanation on a point of great importance closely affecting my dignity. +Your son,” he turned to Pulcheria Alexandrovna, “yesterday in the +presence of Mr. Razsudkin (or... I think that’s it? excuse me I have +forgotten your surname,” he bowed politely to Razumihin) “insulted me by +misrepresenting the idea I expressed to you in a private conversation, +drinking coffee, that is, that marriage with a poor girl who has had +experience of trouble is more advantageous from the conjugal point of +view than with one who has lived in luxury, since it is more profitable +for the moral character. Your son intentionally exaggerated the +significance of my words and made them ridiculous, accusing me of +malicious intentions, and, as far as I could see, relied upon your +correspondence with him. I shall consider myself happy, Pulcheria +Alexandrovna, if it is possible for you to convince me of an opposite +conclusion, and thereby considerately reassure me. Kindly let me know +in what terms precisely you repeated my words in your letter to Rodion +Romanovitch.” + +“I don’t remember,” faltered Pulcheria Alexandrovna. “I repeated them as +I understood them. I don’t know how Rodya repeated them to you, perhaps +he exaggerated.” + +“He could not have exaggerated them, except at your instigation.” + +“Pyotr Petrovitch,” Pulcheria Alexandrovna declared with dignity, “the +proof that Dounia and I did not take your words in a very bad sense is +the fact that we are here.” + +“Good, mother,” said Dounia approvingly. + +“Then this is my fault again,” said Luzhin, aggrieved. + +“Well, Pyotr Petrovitch, you keep blaming Rodion, but you yourself have +just written what was false about him,” Pulcheria Alexandrovna added, +gaining courage. + +“I don’t remember writing anything false.” + +“You wrote,” Raskolnikov said sharply, not turning to Luzhin, “that I +gave money yesterday not to the widow of the man who was killed, as was +the fact, but to his daughter (whom I had never seen till yesterday). +You wrote this to make dissension between me and my family, and for that +object added coarse expressions about the conduct of a girl whom you +don’t know. All that is mean slander.” + +“Excuse me, sir,” said Luzhin, quivering with fury. “I enlarged upon +your qualities and conduct in my letter solely in response to your +sister’s and mother’s inquiries, how I found you, and what impression +you made on me. As for what you’ve alluded to in my letter, be so good +as to point out one word of falsehood, show, that is, that you didn’t +throw away your money, and that there are not worthless persons in that +family, however unfortunate.” + +“To my thinking, you, with all your virtues, are not worth the little +finger of that unfortunate girl at whom you throw stones.” + +“Would you go so far then as to let her associate with your mother and +sister?” + +“I have done so already, if you care to know. I made her sit down to-day +with mother and Dounia.” + +“Rodya!” cried Pulcheria Alexandrovna. Dounia crimsoned, Razumihin +knitted his brows. Luzhin smiled with lofty sarcasm. + +“You may see for yourself, Avdotya Romanovna,” he said, “whether it is +possible for us to agree. I hope now that this question is at an end, +once and for all. I will withdraw, that I may not hinder the pleasures +of family intimacy, and the discussion of secrets.” He got up from his +chair and took his hat. “But in withdrawing, I venture to request +that for the future I may be spared similar meetings, and, so to +say, compromises. I appeal particularly to you, honoured Pulcheria +Alexandrovna, on this subject, the more as my letter was addressed to +you and to no one else.” + +Pulcheria Alexandrovna was a little offended. + +“You seem to think we are completely under your authority, Pyotr +Petrovitch. Dounia has told you the reason your desire was disregarded, +she had the best intentions. And indeed you write as though you were +laying commands upon me. Are we to consider every desire of yours as +a command? Let me tell you on the contrary that you ought to show +particular delicacy and consideration for us now, because we have thrown +up everything, and have come here relying on you, and so we are in any +case in a sense in your hands.” + +“That is not quite true, Pulcheria Alexandrovna, especially at the +present moment, when the news has come of Marfa Petrovna’s legacy, which +seems indeed very apropos, judging from the new tone you take to me,” he +added sarcastically. + +“Judging from that remark, we may certainly presume that you were +reckoning on our helplessness,” Dounia observed irritably. + +“But now in any case I cannot reckon on it, and I particularly desire +not to hinder your discussion of the secret proposals of Arkady +Ivanovitch Svidrigaïlov, which he has entrusted to your brother and +which have, I perceive, a great and possibly a very agreeable interest +for you.” + +“Good heavens!” cried Pulcheria Alexandrovna. + +Razumihin could not sit still on his chair. + +“Aren’t you ashamed now, sister?” asked Raskolnikov. + +“I am ashamed, Rodya,” said Dounia. “Pyotr Petrovitch, go away,” she +turned to him, white with anger. + +Pyotr Petrovitch had apparently not at all expected such a conclusion. +He had too much confidence in himself, in his power and in the +helplessness of his victims. He could not believe it even now. He turned +pale, and his lips quivered. + +“Avdotya Romanovna, if I go out of this door now, after such a +dismissal, then, you may reckon on it, I will never come back. Consider +what you are doing. My word is not to be shaken.” + +“What insolence!” cried Dounia, springing up from her seat. “I don’t +want you to come back again.” + +“What! So that’s how it stands!” cried Luzhin, utterly unable to the +last moment to believe in the rupture and so completely thrown out of +his reckoning now. “So that’s how it stands! But do you know, Avdotya +Romanovna, that I might protest?” + +“What right have you to speak to her like that?” Pulcheria Alexandrovna +intervened hotly. “And what can you protest about? What rights have you? +Am I to give my Dounia to a man like you? Go away, leave us altogether! +We are to blame for having agreed to a wrong action, and I above +all....” + +“But you have bound me, Pulcheria Alexandrovna,” Luzhin stormed in a +frenzy, “by your promise, and now you deny it and... besides... I have +been led on account of that into expenses....” + +This last complaint was so characteristic of Pyotr Petrovitch, that +Raskolnikov, pale with anger and with the effort of restraining it, +could not help breaking into laughter. But Pulcheria Alexandrovna was +furious. + +“Expenses? What expenses? Are you speaking of our trunk? But the +conductor brought it for nothing for you. Mercy on us, we have bound +you! What are you thinking about, Pyotr Petrovitch, it was you bound us, +hand and foot, not we!” + +“Enough, mother, no more please,” Avdotya Romanovna implored. “Pyotr +Petrovitch, do be kind and go!” + +“I am going, but one last word,” he said, quite unable to control +himself. “Your mamma seems to have entirely forgotten that I made up my +mind to take you, so to speak, after the gossip of the town had spread +all over the district in regard to your reputation. Disregarding public +opinion for your sake and reinstating your reputation, I certainly +might very well reckon on a fitting return, and might indeed look for +gratitude on your part. And my eyes have only now been opened! I see +myself that I may have acted very, very recklessly in disregarding the +universal verdict....” + +“Does the fellow want his head smashed?” cried Razumihin, jumping up. + +“You are a mean and spiteful man!” cried Dounia. + +“Not a word! Not a movement!” cried Raskolnikov, holding Razumihin back; +then going close up to Luzhin, “Kindly leave the room!” he said quietly +and distinctly, “and not a word more or...” + +Pyotr Petrovitch gazed at him for some seconds with a pale face that +worked with anger, then he turned, went out, and rarely has any man +carried away in his heart such vindictive hatred as he felt against +Raskolnikov. Him, and him alone, he blamed for everything. It is +noteworthy that as he went downstairs he still imagined that his case +was perhaps not utterly lost, and that, so far as the ladies were +concerned, all might “very well indeed” be set right again. + + + +CHAPTER III + +The fact was that up to the last moment he had never expected such an +ending; he had been overbearing to the last degree, never dreaming that +two destitute and defenceless women could escape from his control. This +conviction was strengthened by his vanity and conceit, a conceit to +the point of fatuity. Pyotr Petrovitch, who had made his way up from +insignificance, was morbidly given to self-admiration, had the highest +opinion of his intelligence and capacities, and sometimes even gloated +in solitude over his image in the glass. But what he loved and valued +above all was the money he had amassed by his labour, and by all sorts +of devices: that money made him the equal of all who had been his +superiors. + +When he had bitterly reminded Dounia that he had decided to take her in +spite of evil report, Pyotr Petrovitch had spoken with perfect sincerity +and had, indeed, felt genuinely indignant at such “black ingratitude.” + And yet, when he made Dounia his offer, he was fully aware of the +groundlessness of all the gossip. The story had been everywhere +contradicted by Marfa Petrovna, and was by then disbelieved by all the +townspeople, who were warm in Dounia’a defence. And he would not have +denied that he knew all that at the time. Yet he still thought highly +of his own resolution in lifting Dounia to his level and regarded it as +something heroic. In speaking of it to Dounia, he had let out the secret +feeling he cherished and admired, and he could not understand that +others should fail to admire it too. He had called on Raskolnikov with +the feelings of a benefactor who is about to reap the fruits of his good +deeds and to hear agreeable flattery. And as he went downstairs now, he +considered himself most undeservedly injured and unrecognised. + +Dounia was simply essential to him; to do without her was unthinkable. +For many years he had had voluptuous dreams of marriage, but he had +gone on waiting and amassing money. He brooded with relish, in profound +secret, over the image of a girl--virtuous, poor (she must be poor), +very young, very pretty, of good birth and education, very timid, one +who had suffered much, and was completely humbled before him, one who +would all her life look on him as her saviour, worship him, admire him +and only him. How many scenes, how many amorous episodes he had imagined +on this seductive and playful theme, when his work was over! And, +behold, the dream of so many years was all but realised; the beauty and +education of Avdotya Romanovna had impressed him; her helpless position +had been a great allurement; in her he had found even more than he +dreamed of. Here was a girl of pride, character, virtue, of education +and breeding superior to his own (he felt that), and this creature would +be slavishly grateful all her life for his heroic condescension, and +would humble herself in the dust before him, and he would have absolute, +unbounded power over her!... Not long before, he had, too, after long +reflection and hesitation, made an important change in his career and +was now entering on a wider circle of business. With this change his +cherished dreams of rising into a higher class of society seemed likely +to be realised.... He was, in fact, determined to try his fortune +in Petersburg. He knew that women could do a very great deal. The +fascination of a charming, virtuous, highly educated woman might make +his way easier, might do wonders in attracting people to him, throwing +an aureole round him, and now everything was in ruins! This sudden +horrible rupture affected him like a clap of thunder; it was like a +hideous joke, an absurdity. He had only been a tiny bit masterful, +had not even time to speak out, had simply made a joke, been carried +away--and it had ended so seriously. And, of course, too, he did love +Dounia in his own way; he already possessed her in his dreams--and all +at once! No! The next day, the very next day, it must all be set right, +smoothed over, settled. Above all he must crush that conceited milksop +who was the cause of it all. With a sick feeling he could not help +recalling Razumihin too, but, he soon reassured himself on that score; +as though a fellow like that could be put on a level with him! The man +he really dreaded in earnest was Svidrigaïlov.... He had, in short, a +great deal to attend to.... + +***** + +“No, I, I am more to blame than anyone!” said Dounia, kissing and +embracing her mother. “I was tempted by his money, but on my honour, +brother, I had no idea he was such a base man. If I had seen through him +before, nothing would have tempted me! Don’t blame me, brother!” + +“God has delivered us! God has delivered us!” Pulcheria Alexandrovna +muttered, but half consciously, as though scarcely able to realise what +had happened. + +They were all relieved, and in five minutes they were laughing. Only now +and then Dounia turned white and frowned, remembering what had passed. +Pulcheria Alexandrovna was surprised to find that she, too, was glad: +she had only that morning thought rupture with Luzhin a terrible +misfortune. Razumihin was delighted. He did not yet dare to express his +joy fully, but he was in a fever of excitement as though a ton-weight +had fallen off his heart. Now he had the right to devote his life to +them, to serve them.... Anything might happen now! But he felt afraid to +think of further possibilities and dared not let his imagination +range. But Raskolnikov sat still in the same place, almost sullen and +indifferent. Though he had been the most insistent on getting rid of +Luzhin, he seemed now the least concerned at what had happened. Dounia +could not help thinking that he was still angry with her, and Pulcheria +Alexandrovna watched him timidly. + +“What did Svidrigaïlov say to you?” said Dounia, approaching him. + +“Yes, yes!” cried Pulcheria Alexandrovna. + +Raskolnikov raised his head. + +“He wants to make you a present of ten thousand roubles and he desires +to see you once in my presence.” + +“See her! On no account!” cried Pulcheria Alexandrovna. “And how dare he +offer her money!” + +Then Raskolnikov repeated (rather dryly) his conversation with +Svidrigaïlov, omitting his account of the ghostly visitations of Marfa +Petrovna, wishing to avoid all unnecessary talk. + +“What answer did you give him?” asked Dounia. + +“At first I said I would not take any message to you. Then he said that +he would do his utmost to obtain an interview with you without my help. +He assured me that his passion for you was a passing infatuation, now he +has no feeling for you. He doesn’t want you to marry Luzhin.... His talk +was altogether rather muddled.” + +“How do you explain him to yourself, Rodya? How did he strike you?” + +“I must confess I don’t quite understand him. He offers you ten +thousand, and yet says he is not well off. He says he is going away, and +in ten minutes he forgets he has said it. Then he says he is going to be +married and has already fixed on the girl.... No doubt he has a motive, +and probably a bad one. But it’s odd that he should be so clumsy about +it if he had any designs against you.... Of course, I refused this +money on your account, once for all. Altogether, I thought him very +strange.... One might almost think he was mad. But I may be mistaken; +that may only be the part he assumes. The death of Marfa Petrovna seems +to have made a great impression on him.” + +“God rest her soul,” exclaimed Pulcheria Alexandrovna. “I shall always, +always pray for her! Where should we be now, Dounia, without this three +thousand! It’s as though it had fallen from heaven! Why, Rodya, this +morning we had only three roubles in our pocket and Dounia and I were +just planning to pawn her watch, so as to avoid borrowing from that man +until he offered help.” + +Dounia seemed strangely impressed by Svidrigaïlov’s offer. She still +stood meditating. + +“He has got some terrible plan,” she said in a half whisper to herself, +almost shuddering. + +Raskolnikov noticed this disproportionate terror. + +“I fancy I shall have to see him more than once again,” he said to +Dounia. + +“We will watch him! I will track him out!” cried Razumihin, vigorously. +“I won’t lose sight of him. Rodya has given me leave. He said to me +himself just now. ‘Take care of my sister.’ Will you give me leave, too, +Avdotya Romanovna?” + +Dounia smiled and held out her hand, but the look of anxiety did not +leave her face. Pulcheria Alexandrovna gazed at her timidly, but the +three thousand roubles had obviously a soothing effect on her. + +A quarter of an hour later, they were all engaged in a lively +conversation. Even Raskolnikov listened attentively for some time, +though he did not talk. Razumihin was the speaker. + +“And why, why should you go away?” he flowed on ecstatically. “And what +are you to do in a little town? The great thing is, you are all here +together and you need one another--you do need one another, believe me. +For a time, anyway.... Take me into partnership, and I assure you we’ll +plan a capital enterprise. Listen! I’ll explain it all in detail to +you, the whole project! It all flashed into my head this morning, +before anything had happened... I tell you what; I have an uncle, I must +introduce him to you (a most accommodating and respectable old man). +This uncle has got a capital of a thousand roubles, and he lives on his +pension and has no need of that money. For the last two years he has +been bothering me to borrow it from him and pay him six per cent. +interest. I know what that means; he simply wants to help me. Last year +I had no need of it, but this year I resolved to borrow it as soon as +he arrived. Then you lend me another thousand of your three and we have +enough for a start, so we’ll go into partnership, and what are we going +to do?” + +Then Razumihin began to unfold his project, and he explained at length +that almost all our publishers and booksellers know nothing at all +of what they are selling, and for that reason they are usually bad +publishers, and that any decent publications pay as a rule and give +a profit, sometimes a considerable one. Razumihin had, indeed, been +dreaming of setting up as a publisher. For the last two years he had +been working in publishers’ offices, and knew three European languages +well, though he had told Raskolnikov six days before that he was +“schwach” in German with an object of persuading him to take half his +translation and half the payment for it. He had told a lie then, and +Raskolnikov knew he was lying. + +“Why, why should we let our chance slip when we have one of the chief +means of success--money of our own!” cried Razumihin warmly. “Of course +there will be a lot of work, but we will work, you, Avdotya Romanovna, +I, Rodion.... You get a splendid profit on some books nowadays! And +the great point of the business is that we shall know just what wants +translating, and we shall be translating, publishing, learning all at +once. I can be of use because I have experience. For nearly two years +I’ve been scuttling about among the publishers, and now I know every +detail of their business. You need not be a saint to make pots, believe +me! And why, why should we let our chance slip! Why, I know--and I kept +the secret--two or three books which one might get a hundred roubles +simply for thinking of translating and publishing. Indeed, and I would +not take five hundred for the very idea of one of them. And what do you +think? If I were to tell a publisher, I dare say he’d hesitate--they are +such blockheads! And as for the business side, printing, paper, selling, +you trust to me, I know my way about. We’ll begin in a small way and go +on to a large. In any case it will get us our living and we shall get +back our capital.” + +Dounia’s eyes shone. + +“I like what you are saying, Dmitri Prokofitch!” she said. + +“I know nothing about it, of course,” put in Pulcheria Alexandrovna, +“it may be a good idea, but again God knows. It’s new and untried. Of +course, we must remain here at least for a time.” She looked at Rodya. + +“What do you think, brother?” said Dounia. + +“I think he’s got a very good idea,” he answered. “Of course, it’s too +soon to dream of a publishing firm, but we certainly might bring out +five or six books and be sure of success. I know of one book myself +which would be sure to go well. And as for his being able to manage it, +there’s no doubt about that either. He knows the business.... But we can +talk it over later....” + +“Hurrah!” cried Razumihin. “Now, stay, there’s a flat here in this +house, belonging to the same owner. It’s a special flat apart, not +communicating with these lodgings. It’s furnished, rent moderate, +three rooms. Suppose you take them to begin with. I’ll pawn your watch +to-morrow and bring you the money, and everything can be arranged then. +You can all three live together, and Rodya will be with you. But where +are you off to, Rodya?” + +“What, Rodya, you are going already?” Pulcheria Alexandrovna asked in +dismay. + +“At such a minute?” cried Razumihin. + +Dounia looked at her brother with incredulous wonder. He held his cap in +his hand, he was preparing to leave them. + +“One would think you were burying me or saying good-bye for ever,” he +said somewhat oddly. He attempted to smile, but it did not turn out a +smile. “But who knows, perhaps it is the last time we shall see each +other...” he let slip accidentally. It was what he was thinking, and it +somehow was uttered aloud. + +“What is the matter with you?” cried his mother. + +“Where are you going, Rodya?” asked Dounia rather strangely. + +“Oh, I’m quite obliged to...” he answered vaguely, as though hesitating +what he would say. But there was a look of sharp determination in his +white face. + +“I meant to say... as I was coming here... I meant to tell you, mother, +and you, Dounia, that it would be better for us to part for a time. I +feel ill, I am not at peace.... I will come afterwards, I will come of +myself... when it’s possible. I remember you and love you.... Leave me, +leave me alone. I decided this even before... I’m absolutely resolved on +it. Whatever may come to me, whether I come to ruin or not, I want to be +alone. Forget me altogether, it’s better. Don’t inquire about me. When +I can, I’ll come of myself or... I’ll send for you. Perhaps it will all +come back, but now if you love me, give me up... else I shall begin to +hate you, I feel it.... Good-bye!” + +“Good God!” cried Pulcheria Alexandrovna. Both his mother and his sister +were terribly alarmed. Razumihin was also. + +“Rodya, Rodya, be reconciled with us! Let us be as before!” cried his +poor mother. + +He turned slowly to the door and slowly went out of the room. Dounia +overtook him. + +“Brother, what are you doing to mother?” she whispered, her eyes +flashing with indignation. + +He looked dully at her. + +“No matter, I shall come.... I’m coming,” he muttered in an undertone, +as though not fully conscious of what he was saying, and he went out of +the room. + +“Wicked, heartless egoist!” cried Dounia. + +“He is insane, but not heartless. He is mad! Don’t you see it? You’re +heartless after that!” Razumihin whispered in her ear, squeezing +her hand tightly. “I shall be back directly,” he shouted to the +horror-stricken mother, and he ran out of the room. + +Raskolnikov was waiting for him at the end of the passage. + +“I knew you would run after me,” he said. “Go back to them--be with +them... be with them to-morrow and always.... I... perhaps I shall +come... if I can. Good-bye.” + +And without holding out his hand he walked away. + +“But where are you going? What are you doing? What’s the matter with +you? How can you go on like this?” Razumihin muttered, at his wits’ end. + +Raskolnikov stopped once more. + +“Once for all, never ask me about anything. I have nothing to tell you. +Don’t come to see me. Maybe I’ll come here.... Leave me, but _don’t +leave_ them. Do you understand me?” + +It was dark in the corridor, they were standing near the lamp. For a +minute they were looking at one another in silence. Razumihin remembered +that minute all his life. Raskolnikov’s burning and intent eyes +grew more penetrating every moment, piercing into his soul, into his +consciousness. Suddenly Razumihin started. Something strange, as it +were, passed between them.... Some idea, some hint, as it were, slipped, +something awful, hideous, and suddenly understood on both sides.... +Razumihin turned pale. + +“Do you understand now?” said Raskolnikov, his face twitching nervously. +“Go back, go to them,” he said suddenly, and turning quickly, he went +out of the house. + +I will not attempt to describe how Razumihin went back to the ladies, +how he soothed them, how he protested that Rodya needed rest in his +illness, protested that Rodya was sure to come, that he would come every +day, that he was very, very much upset, that he must not be irritated, +that he, Razumihin, would watch over him, would get him a doctor, the +best doctor, a consultation.... In fact from that evening Razumihin took +his place with them as a son and a brother. + + + +CHAPTER IV + +Raskolnikov went straight to the house on the canal bank where Sonia +lived. It was an old green house of three storeys. He found the +porter and obtained from him vague directions as to the whereabouts of +Kapernaumov, the tailor. Having found in the corner of the courtyard +the entrance to the dark and narrow staircase, he mounted to the second +floor and came out into a gallery that ran round the whole second storey +over the yard. While he was wandering in the darkness, uncertain where +to turn for Kapernaumov’s door, a door opened three paces from him; he +mechanically took hold of it. + +“Who is there?” a woman’s voice asked uneasily. + +“It’s I... come to see you,” answered Raskolnikov and he walked into the +tiny entry. + +On a broken chair stood a candle in a battered copper candlestick. + +“It’s you! Good heavens!” cried Sonia weakly, and she stood rooted to +the spot. + +“Which is your room? This way?” and Raskolnikov, trying not to look at +her, hastened in. + +A minute later Sonia, too, came in with the candle, set down the +candlestick and, completely disconcerted, stood before him inexpressibly +agitated and apparently frightened by his unexpected visit. The colour +rushed suddenly to her pale face and tears came into her eyes... She +felt sick and ashamed and happy, too.... Raskolnikov turned away quickly +and sat on a chair by the table. He scanned the room in a rapid glance. + +It was a large but exceedingly low-pitched room, the only one let by the +Kapernaumovs, to whose rooms a closed door led in the wall on the left. +In the opposite side on the right hand wall was another door, always +kept locked. That led to the next flat, which formed a separate lodging. +Sonia’s room looked like a barn; it was a very irregular quadrangle and +this gave it a grotesque appearance. A wall with three windows looking +out on to the canal ran aslant so that one corner formed a very acute +angle, and it was difficult to see in it without very strong light. +The other corner was disproportionately obtuse. There was scarcely any +furniture in the big room: in the corner on the right was a bedstead, +beside it, nearest the door, a chair. A plain, deal table covered by a +blue cloth stood against the same wall, close to the door into the other +flat. Two rush-bottom chairs stood by the table. On the opposite +wall near the acute angle stood a small plain wooden chest of drawers +looking, as it were, lost in a desert. That was all there was in the +room. The yellow, scratched and shabby wall-paper was black in the +corners. It must have been damp and full of fumes in the winter. There +was every sign of poverty; even the bedstead had no curtain. + +Sonia looked in silence at her visitor, who was so attentively and +unceremoniously scrutinising her room, and even began at last to tremble +with terror, as though she was standing before her judge and the arbiter +of her destinies. + +“I am late.... It’s eleven, isn’t it?” he asked, still not lifting his +eyes. + +“Yes,” muttered Sonia, “oh yes, it is,” she added, hastily, as though in +that lay her means of escape. “My landlady’s clock has just struck... I +heard it myself....” + +“I’ve come to you for the last time,” Raskolnikov went on gloomily, +although this was the first time. “I may perhaps not see you again...” + +“Are you... going away?” + +“I don’t know... to-morrow....” + +“Then you are not coming to Katerina Ivanovna to-morrow?” Sonia’s voice +shook. + +“I don’t know. I shall know to-morrow morning.... Never mind that: I’ve +come to say one word....” + +He raised his brooding eyes to her and suddenly noticed that he was +sitting down while she was all the while standing before him. + +“Why are you standing? Sit down,” he said in a changed voice, gentle and +friendly. + +She sat down. He looked kindly and almost compassionately at her. + +“How thin you are! What a hand! Quite transparent, like a dead hand.” + +He took her hand. Sonia smiled faintly. + +“I have always been like that,” she said. + +“Even when you lived at home?” + +“Yes.” + +“Of course, you were,” he added abruptly and the expression of his face +and the sound of his voice changed again suddenly. + +He looked round him once more. + +“You rent this room from the Kapernaumovs?” + +“Yes....” + +“They live there, through that door?” + +“Yes.... They have another room like this.” + +“All in one room?” + +“Yes.” + +“I should be afraid in your room at night,” he observed gloomily. + +“They are very good people, very kind,” answered Sonia, who still seemed +bewildered, “and all the furniture, everything... everything is theirs. +And they are very kind and the children, too, often come to see me.” + +“They all stammer, don’t they?” + +“Yes.... He stammers and he’s lame. And his wife, too.... It’s not +exactly that she stammers, but she can’t speak plainly. She is a very +kind woman. And he used to be a house serf. And there are seven +children... and it’s only the eldest one that stammers and the others +are simply ill... but they don’t stammer.... But where did you hear +about them?” she added with some surprise. + +“Your father told me, then. He told me all about you.... And how you +went out at six o’clock and came back at nine and how Katerina Ivanovna +knelt down by your bed.” + +Sonia was confused. + +“I fancied I saw him to-day,” she whispered hesitatingly. + +“Whom?” + +“Father. I was walking in the street, out there at the corner, about ten +o’clock and he seemed to be walking in front. It looked just like him. I +wanted to go to Katerina Ivanovna....” + +“You were walking in the streets?” + +“Yes,” Sonia whispered abruptly, again overcome with confusion and +looking down. + +“Katerina Ivanovna used to beat you, I dare say?” + +“Oh no, what are you saying? No!” Sonia looked at him almost with +dismay. + +“You love her, then?” + +“Love her? Of course!” said Sonia with plaintive emphasis, and she +clasped her hands in distress. “Ah, you don’t.... If you only knew! +You see, she is quite like a child.... Her mind is quite unhinged, you +see... from sorrow. And how clever she used to be... how generous... how +kind! Ah, you don’t understand, you don’t understand!” + +Sonia said this as though in despair, wringing her hands in excitement +and distress. Her pale cheeks flushed, there was a look of anguish in +her eyes. It was clear that she was stirred to the very depths, that +she was longing to speak, to champion, to express something. A sort +of _insatiable_ compassion, if one may so express it, was reflected in +every feature of her face. + +“Beat me! how can you? Good heavens, beat me! And if she did beat me, +what then? What of it? You know nothing, nothing about it.... She is so +unhappy... ah, how unhappy! And ill.... She is seeking righteousness, +she is pure. She has such faith that there must be righteousness +everywhere and she expects it.... And if you were to torture her, she +wouldn’t do wrong. She doesn’t see that it’s impossible for people to +be righteous and she is angry at it. Like a child, like a child. She is +good!” + +“And what will happen to you?” + +Sonia looked at him inquiringly. + +“They are left on your hands, you see. They were all on your hands +before, though.... And your father came to you to beg for drink. Well, +how will it be now?” + +“I don’t know,” Sonia articulated mournfully. + +“Will they stay there?” + +“I don’t know.... They are in debt for the lodging, but the landlady, +I hear, said to-day that she wanted to get rid of them, and Katerina +Ivanovna says that she won’t stay another minute.” + +“How is it she is so bold? She relies upon you?” + +“Oh, no, don’t talk like that.... We are one, we live like one.” Sonia +was agitated again and even angry, as though a canary or some other +little bird were to be angry. “And what could she do? What, what could +she do?” she persisted, getting hot and excited. “And how she cried +to-day! Her mind is unhinged, haven’t you noticed it? At one minute she +is worrying like a child that everything should be right to-morrow, the +lunch and all that.... Then she is wringing her hands, spitting blood, +weeping, and all at once she will begin knocking her head against the +wall, in despair. Then she will be comforted again. She builds all her +hopes on you; she says that you will help her now and that she will +borrow a little money somewhere and go to her native town with me and +set up a boarding school for the daughters of gentlemen and take me to +superintend it, and we will begin a new splendid life. And she kisses +and hugs me, comforts me, and you know she has such faith, such faith in +her fancies! One can’t contradict her. And all the day long she has been +washing, cleaning, mending. She dragged the wash tub into the room with +her feeble hands and sank on the bed, gasping for breath. We went this +morning to the shops to buy shoes for Polenka and Lida for theirs are +quite worn out. Only the money we’d reckoned wasn’t enough, not nearly +enough. And she picked out such dear little boots, for she has taste, +you don’t know. And there in the shop she burst out crying before the +shopmen because she hadn’t enough.... Ah, it was sad to see her....” + +“Well, after that I can understand your living like this,” Raskolnikov +said with a bitter smile. + +“And aren’t you sorry for them? Aren’t you sorry?” Sonia flew at him +again. “Why, I know, you gave your last penny yourself, though you’d +seen nothing of it, and if you’d seen everything, oh dear! And how +often, how often I’ve brought her to tears! Only last week! Yes, I! Only +a week before his death. I was cruel! And how often I’ve done it! Ah, +I’ve been wretched at the thought of it all day!” + +Sonia wrung her hands as she spoke at the pain of remembering it. + +“You were cruel?” + +“Yes, I--I. I went to see them,” she went on, weeping, “and father said, +‘read me something, Sonia, my head aches, read to me, here’s a book.’ He +had a book he had got from Andrey Semyonovitch Lebeziatnikov, he lives +there, he always used to get hold of such funny books. And I said, ‘I +can’t stay,’ as I didn’t want to read, and I’d gone in chiefly to show +Katerina Ivanovna some collars. Lizaveta, the pedlar, sold me some +collars and cuffs cheap, pretty, new, embroidered ones. Katerina +Ivanovna liked them very much; she put them on and looked at herself +in the glass and was delighted with them. ‘Make me a present of them, +Sonia,’ she said, ‘please do.’ ‘_Please do_,’ she said, she wanted them +so much. And when could she wear them? They just reminded her of her old +happy days. She looked at herself in the glass, admired herself, and she +has no clothes at all, no things of her own, hasn’t had all these years! +And she never asks anyone for anything; she is proud, she’d sooner give +away everything. And these she asked for, she liked them so much. And I +was sorry to give them. ‘What use are they to you, Katerina Ivanovna?’ I +said. I spoke like that to her, I ought not to have said that! She gave +me such a look. And she was so grieved, so grieved at my refusing her. +And it was so sad to see.... And she was not grieved for the collars, +but for my refusing, I saw that. Ah, if only I could bring it all back, +change it, take back those words! Ah, if I... but it’s nothing to you!” + +“Did you know Lizaveta, the pedlar?” + +“Yes.... Did you know her?” Sonia asked with some surprise. + +“Katerina Ivanovna is in consumption, rapid consumption; she will soon +die,” said Raskolnikov after a pause, without answering her question. + +“Oh, no, no, no!” + +And Sonia unconsciously clutched both his hands, as though imploring +that she should not. + +“But it will be better if she does die.” + +“No, not better, not at all better!” Sonia unconsciously repeated in +dismay. + +“And the children? What can you do except take them to live with you?” + +“Oh, I don’t know,” cried Sonia, almost in despair, and she put her +hands to her head. + +It was evident that that idea had very often occurred to her before and +he had only roused it again. + +“And, what, if even now, while Katerina Ivanovna is alive, you get ill +and are taken to the hospital, what will happen then?” he persisted +pitilessly. + +“How can you? That cannot be!” + +And Sonia’s face worked with awful terror. + +“Cannot be?” Raskolnikov went on with a harsh smile. “You are not +insured against it, are you? What will happen to them then? They will +be in the street, all of them, she will cough and beg and knock her head +against some wall, as she did to-day, and the children will cry.... +Then she will fall down, be taken to the police station and to the +hospital, she will die, and the children...” + +“Oh, no.... God will not let it be!” broke at last from Sonia’s +overburdened bosom. + +She listened, looking imploringly at him, clasping her hands in dumb +entreaty, as though it all depended upon him. + +Raskolnikov got up and began to walk about the room. A minute passed. +Sonia was standing with her hands and her head hanging in terrible +dejection. + +“And can’t you save? Put by for a rainy day?” he asked, stopping +suddenly before her. + +“No,” whispered Sonia. + +“Of course not. Have you tried?” he added almost ironically. + +“Yes.” + +“And it didn’t come off! Of course not! No need to ask.” + +And again he paced the room. Another minute passed. + +“You don’t get money every day?” + +Sonia was more confused than ever and colour rushed into her face again. + +“No,” she whispered with a painful effort. + +“It will be the same with Polenka, no doubt,” he said suddenly. + +“No, no! It can’t be, no!” Sonia cried aloud in desperation, as though +she had been stabbed. “God would not allow anything so awful!” + +“He lets others come to it.” + +“No, no! God will protect her, God!” she repeated beside herself. + +“But, perhaps, there is no God at all,” Raskolnikov answered with a sort +of malignance, laughed and looked at her. + +Sonia’s face suddenly changed; a tremor passed over it. She looked at +him with unutterable reproach, tried to say something, but could not +speak and broke into bitter, bitter sobs, hiding her face in her hands. + +“You say Katerina Ivanovna’s mind is unhinged; your own mind is +unhinged,” he said after a brief silence. + +Five minutes passed. He still paced up and down the room in silence, not +looking at her. At last he went up to her; his eyes glittered. He put +his two hands on her shoulders and looked straight into her tearful +face. His eyes were hard, feverish and piercing, his lips were +twitching. All at once he bent down quickly and dropping to the +ground, kissed her foot. Sonia drew back from him as from a madman. And +certainly he looked like a madman. + +“What are you doing to me?” she muttered, turning pale, and a sudden +anguish clutched at her heart. + +He stood up at once. + +“I did not bow down to you, I bowed down to all the suffering of +humanity,” he said wildly and walked away to the window. “Listen,” he +added, turning to her a minute later. “I said just now to an insolent +man that he was not worth your little finger... and that I did my sister +honour making her sit beside you.” + +“Ach, you said that to them! And in her presence?” cried Sonia, +frightened. “Sit down with me! An honour! Why, I’m... dishonourable.... +Ah, why did you say that?” + +“It was not because of your dishonour and your sin I said that of you, +but because of your great suffering. But you are a great sinner, that’s +true,” he added almost solemnly, “and your worst sin is that you have +destroyed and betrayed yourself _for nothing_. Isn’t that fearful? Isn’t +it fearful that you are living in this filth which you loathe so, and at +the same time you know yourself (you’ve only to open your eyes) that you +are not helping anyone by it, not saving anyone from anything? Tell me,” + he went on almost in a frenzy, “how this shame and degradation can exist +in you side by side with other, opposite, holy feelings? It would be +better, a thousand times better and wiser to leap into the water and end +it all!” + +“But what would become of them?” Sonia asked faintly, gazing at him with +eyes of anguish, but not seeming surprised at his suggestion. + +Raskolnikov looked strangely at her. He read it all in her face; so she +must have had that thought already, perhaps many times, and earnestly +she had thought out in her despair how to end it and so earnestly, that +now she scarcely wondered at his suggestion. She had not even noticed +the cruelty of his words. (The significance of his reproaches and his +peculiar attitude to her shame she had, of course, not noticed either, +and that, too, was clear to him.) But he saw how monstrously the thought +of her disgraceful, shameful position was torturing her and had long +tortured her. “What, what,” he thought, “could hitherto have hindered +her from putting an end to it?” Only then he realised what those poor +little orphan children and that pitiful half-crazy Katerina Ivanovna, +knocking her head against the wall in her consumption, meant for Sonia. + +But, nevertheless, it was clear to him again that with her character and +the amount of education she had after all received, she could not in any +case remain so. He was still confronted by the question, how could she +have remained so long in that position without going out of her mind, +since she could not bring herself to jump into the water? Of course he +knew that Sonia’s position was an exceptional case, though unhappily not +unique and not infrequent, indeed; but that very exceptionalness, her +tinge of education, her previous life might, one would have thought, +have killed her at the first step on that revolting path. What held her +up--surely not depravity? All that infamy had obviously only touched +her mechanically, not one drop of real depravity had penetrated to her +heart; he saw that. He saw through her as she stood before him.... + +“There are three ways before her,” he thought, “the canal, the madhouse, +or... at last to sink into depravity which obscures the mind and turns +the heart to stone.” + +The last idea was the most revolting, but he was a sceptic, he was +young, abstract, and therefore cruel, and so he could not help believing +that the last end was the most likely. + +“But can that be true?” he cried to himself. “Can that creature who has +still preserved the purity of her spirit be consciously drawn at last +into that sink of filth and iniquity? Can the process already have +begun? Can it be that she has only been able to bear it till now, +because vice has begun to be less loathsome to her? No, no, that cannot +be!” he cried, as Sonia had just before. “No, what has kept her from the +canal till now is the idea of sin and they, the children.... And if she +has not gone out of her mind... but who says she has not gone out of her +mind? Is she in her senses? Can one talk, can one reason as she does? +How can she sit on the edge of the abyss of loathsomeness into which she +is slipping and refuse to listen when she is told of danger? Does she +expect a miracle? No doubt she does. Doesn’t that all mean madness?” + +He stayed obstinately at that thought. He liked that explanation indeed +better than any other. He began looking more intently at her. + +“So you pray to God a great deal, Sonia?” he asked her. + +Sonia did not speak; he stood beside her waiting for an answer. + +“What should I be without God?” she whispered rapidly, forcibly, +glancing at him with suddenly flashing eyes, and squeezing his hand. + +“Ah, so that is it!” he thought. + +“And what does God do for you?” he asked, probing her further. + +Sonia was silent a long while, as though she could not answer. Her weak +chest kept heaving with emotion. + +“Be silent! Don’t ask! You don’t deserve!” she cried suddenly, looking +sternly and wrathfully at him. + +“That’s it, that’s it,” he repeated to himself. + +“He does everything,” she whispered quickly, looking down again. + +“That’s the way out! That’s the explanation,” he decided, scrutinising +her with eager curiosity, with a new, strange, almost morbid feeling. +He gazed at that pale, thin, irregular, angular little face, those soft +blue eyes, which could flash with such fire, such stern energy, that +little body still shaking with indignation and anger--and it all seemed +to him more and more strange, almost impossible. “She is a religious +maniac!” he repeated to himself. + +There was a book lying on the chest of drawers. He had noticed it every +time he paced up and down the room. Now he took it up and looked at it. +It was the New Testament in the Russian translation. It was bound in +leather, old and worn. + +“Where did you get that?” he called to her across the room. + +She was still standing in the same place, three steps from the table. + +“It was brought me,” she answered, as it were unwillingly, not looking +at him. + +“Who brought it?” + +“Lizaveta, I asked her for it.” + +“Lizaveta! strange!” he thought. + +Everything about Sonia seemed to him stranger and more wonderful every +moment. He carried the book to the candle and began to turn over the +pages. + +“Where is the story of Lazarus?” he asked suddenly. + +Sonia looked obstinately at the ground and would not answer. She was +standing sideways to the table. + +“Where is the raising of Lazarus? Find it for me, Sonia.” + +She stole a glance at him. + +“You are not looking in the right place.... It’s in the fourth gospel,” + she whispered sternly, without looking at him. + +“Find it and read it to me,” he said. He sat down with his elbow on the +table, leaned his head on his hand and looked away sullenly, prepared to +listen. + +“In three weeks’ time they’ll welcome me in the madhouse! I shall be +there if I am not in a worse place,” he muttered to himself. + +Sonia heard Raskolnikov’s request distrustfully and moved hesitatingly +to the table. She took the book however. + +“Haven’t you read it?” she asked, looking up at him across the table. + +Her voice became sterner and sterner. + +“Long ago.... When I was at school. Read!” + +“And haven’t you heard it in church?” + +“I... haven’t been. Do you often go?” + +“N-no,” whispered Sonia. + +Raskolnikov smiled. + +“I understand.... And you won’t go to your father’s funeral to-morrow?” + +“Yes, I shall. I was at church last week, too... I had a requiem +service.” + +“For whom?” + +“For Lizaveta. She was killed with an axe.” + +His nerves were more and more strained. His head began to go round. + +“Were you friends with Lizaveta?” + +“Yes.... She was good... she used to come... not often... she +couldn’t.... We used to read together and... talk. She will see God.” + +The last phrase sounded strange in his ears. And here was something new +again: the mysterious meetings with Lizaveta and both of them--religious +maniacs. + +“I shall be a religious maniac myself soon! It’s infectious!” + +“Read!” he cried irritably and insistently. + +Sonia still hesitated. Her heart was throbbing. She hardly dared to read +to him. He looked almost with exasperation at the “unhappy lunatic.” + +“What for? You don’t believe?...” she whispered softly and as it were +breathlessly. + +“Read! I want you to,” he persisted. “You used to read to Lizaveta.” + +Sonia opened the book and found the place. Her hands were shaking, her +voice failed her. Twice she tried to begin and could not bring out the +first syllable. + +“Now a certain man was sick named Lazarus of Bethany...” she forced +herself at last to read, but at the third word her voice broke like an +overstrained string. There was a catch in her breath. + +Raskolnikov saw in part why Sonia could not bring herself to read to him +and the more he saw this, the more roughly and irritably he insisted on +her doing so. He understood only too well how painful it was for her +to betray and unveil all that was her _own_. He understood that these +feelings really were her _secret treasure_, which she had kept perhaps +for years, perhaps from childhood, while she lived with an unhappy +father and a distracted stepmother crazed by grief, in the midst of +starving children and unseemly abuse and reproaches. But at the same +time he knew now and knew for certain that, although it filled her with +dread and suffering, yet she had a tormenting desire to read and to read +to _him_ that he might hear it, and to read _now_ whatever might come of +it!... He read this in her eyes, he could see it in her intense emotion. +She mastered herself, controlled the spasm in her throat and went on +reading the eleventh chapter of St. John. She went on to the nineteenth +verse: + +“And many of the Jews came to Martha and Mary to comfort them concerning +their brother. + +“Then Martha as soon as she heard that Jesus was coming went and met +Him: but Mary sat still in the house. + +“Then said Martha unto Jesus, Lord, if Thou hadst been here, my brother +had not died. + +“But I know that even now whatsoever Thou wilt ask of God, God will give +it Thee....” + +Then she stopped again with a shamefaced feeling that her voice would +quiver and break again. + +“Jesus said unto her, thy brother shall rise again. + +“Martha saith unto Him, I know that he shall rise again in the +resurrection, at the last day. + +“Jesus said unto her, I am the resurrection and the life: he that +believeth in Me though he were dead, yet shall he live. + +“And whosoever liveth and believeth in Me shall never die. Believest +thou this? + +“She saith unto Him,” + +(And drawing a painful breath, Sonia read distinctly and forcibly as +though she were making a public confession of faith.) + +“Yea, Lord: I believe that Thou art the Christ, the Son of God Which +should come into the world.” + +She stopped and looked up quickly at him, but controlling herself went +on reading. Raskolnikov sat without moving, his elbows on the table and +his eyes turned away. She read to the thirty-second verse. + +“Then when Mary was come where Jesus was and saw Him, she fell down at +His feet, saying unto Him, Lord if Thou hadst been here, my brother had +not died. + +“When Jesus therefore saw her weeping, and the Jews also weeping which +came with her, He groaned in the spirit and was troubled, + +“And said, Where have ye laid him? They said unto Him, Lord, come and +see. + +“Jesus wept. + +“Then said the Jews, behold how He loved him! + +“And some of them said, could not this Man which opened the eyes of the +blind, have caused that even this man should not have died?” + +Raskolnikov turned and looked at her with emotion. Yes, he had known it! +She was trembling in a real physical fever. He had expected it. She was +getting near the story of the greatest miracle and a feeling of immense +triumph came over her. Her voice rang out like a bell; triumph and joy +gave it power. The lines danced before her eyes, but she knew what she +was reading by heart. At the last verse “Could not this Man which opened +the eyes of the blind...” dropping her voice she passionately reproduced +the doubt, the reproach and censure of the blind disbelieving Jews, who +in another moment would fall at His feet as though struck by +thunder, sobbing and believing.... “And _he, he_--too, is blinded and +unbelieving, he, too, will hear, he, too, will believe, yes, yes! At +once, now,” was what she was dreaming, and she was quivering with happy +anticipation. + +“Jesus therefore again groaning in Himself cometh to the grave. It was a +cave, and a stone lay upon it. + +“Jesus said, Take ye away the stone. Martha, the sister of him that was +dead, saith unto Him, Lord by this time he stinketh: for he hath been +dead four days.” + +She laid emphasis on the word _four_. + +“Jesus saith unto her, Said I not unto thee that if thou wouldest +believe, thou shouldest see the glory of God? + +“Then they took away the stone from the place where the dead was laid. +And Jesus lifted up His eyes and said, Father, I thank Thee that Thou +hast heard Me. + +“And I knew that Thou hearest Me always; but because of the people which +stand by I said it, that they may believe that Thou hast sent Me. + +“And when He thus had spoken, He cried with a loud voice, Lazarus, come +forth. + +“And he that was dead came forth.” + +(She read loudly, cold and trembling with ecstasy, as though she were +seeing it before her eyes.) + +“Bound hand and foot with graveclothes; and his face was bound about +with a napkin. Jesus saith unto them, Loose him and let him go. + +“Then many of the Jews which came to Mary and had seen the things which +Jesus did believed on Him.” + +She could read no more, closed the book and got up from her chair +quickly. + +“That is all about the raising of Lazarus,” she whispered severely and +abruptly, and turning away she stood motionless, not daring to raise +her eyes to him. She still trembled feverishly. The candle-end was +flickering out in the battered candlestick, dimly lighting up in the +poverty-stricken room the murderer and the harlot who had so strangely +been reading together the eternal book. Five minutes or more passed. + +“I came to speak of something,” Raskolnikov said aloud, frowning. He got +up and went to Sonia. She lifted her eyes to him in silence. His face +was particularly stern and there was a sort of savage determination in +it. + +“I have abandoned my family to-day,” he said, “my mother and sister. I +am not going to see them. I’ve broken with them completely.” + +“What for?” asked Sonia amazed. Her recent meeting with his mother and +sister had left a great impression which she could not analyse. She +heard his news almost with horror. + +“I have only you now,” he added. “Let us go together.... I’ve come to +you, we are both accursed, let us go our way together!” + +His eyes glittered “as though he were mad,” Sonia thought, in her turn. + +“Go where?” she asked in alarm and she involuntarily stepped back. + +“How do I know? I only know it’s the same road, I know that and nothing +more. It’s the same goal!” + +She looked at him and understood nothing. She knew only that he was +terribly, infinitely unhappy. + +“No one of them will understand, if you tell them, but I have +understood. I need you, that is why I have come to you.” + +“I don’t understand,” whispered Sonia. + +“You’ll understand later. Haven’t you done the same? You, too, have +transgressed... have had the strength to transgress. You have laid +hands on yourself, you have destroyed a life... _your own_ (it’s all the +same!). You might have lived in spirit and understanding, but you’ll +end in the Hay Market.... But you won’t be able to stand it, and if +you remain alone you’ll go out of your mind like me. You are like a mad +creature already. So we must go together on the same road! Let us go!” + +“What for? What’s all this for?” said Sonia, strangely and violently +agitated by his words. + +“What for? Because you can’t remain like this, that’s why! You must look +things straight in the face at last, and not weep like a child and cry +that God won’t allow it. What will happen, if you should really be taken +to the hospital to-morrow? She is mad and in consumption, she’ll soon +die and the children? Do you mean to tell me Polenka won’t come to +grief? Haven’t you seen children here at the street corners sent out +by their mothers to beg? I’ve found out where those mothers live and in +what surroundings. Children can’t remain children there! At seven the +child is vicious and a thief. Yet children, you know, are the image of +Christ: ‘theirs is the kingdom of Heaven.’ He bade us honour and love +them, they are the humanity of the future....” + +“What’s to be done, what’s to be done?” repeated Sonia, weeping +hysterically and wringing her hands. + +“What’s to be done? Break what must be broken, once for all, that’s all, +and take the suffering on oneself. What, you don’t understand? You’ll +understand later.... Freedom and power, and above all, power! Over all +trembling creation and all the ant-heap!... That’s the goal, remember +that! That’s my farewell message. Perhaps it’s the last time I shall +speak to you. If I don’t come to-morrow, you’ll hear of it all, and then +remember these words. And some day later on, in years to come, you’ll +understand perhaps what they meant. If I come to-morrow, I’ll tell you +who killed Lizaveta.... Good-bye.” + +Sonia started with terror. + +“Why, do you know who killed her?” she asked, chilled with horror, +looking wildly at him. + +“I know and will tell... you, only you. I have chosen you out. I’m not +coming to you to ask forgiveness, but simply to tell you. I chose you +out long ago to hear this, when your father talked of you and when +Lizaveta was alive, I thought of it. Good-bye, don’t shake hands. +To-morrow!” + +He went out. Sonia gazed at him as at a madman. But she herself was like +one insane and felt it. Her head was going round. + +“Good heavens, how does he know who killed Lizaveta? What did those +words mean? It’s awful!” But at the same time _the idea_ did not enter +her head, not for a moment! “Oh, he must be terribly unhappy!... He has +abandoned his mother and sister.... What for? What has happened? And +what had he in his mind? What did he say to her? He had kissed her foot +and said... said (yes, he had said it clearly) that he could not live +without her.... Oh, merciful heavens!” + +Sonia spent the whole night feverish and delirious. She jumped up from +time to time, wept and wrung her hands, then sank again into feverish +sleep and dreamt of Polenka, Katerina Ivanovna and Lizaveta, of reading +the gospel and him... him with pale face, with burning eyes... kissing +her feet, weeping. + +On the other side of the door on the right, which divided Sonia’s room +from Madame Resslich’s flat, was a room which had long stood empty. A +card was fixed on the gate and a notice stuck in the windows over the +canal advertising it to let. Sonia had long been accustomed to the +room’s being uninhabited. But all that time Mr. Svidrigaïlov had been +standing, listening at the door of the empty room. When Raskolnikov went +out he stood still, thought a moment, went on tiptoe to his own room +which adjoined the empty one, brought a chair and noiselessly carried it +to the door that led to Sonia’s room. The conversation had struck him +as interesting and remarkable, and he had greatly enjoyed it--so much so +that he brought a chair that he might not in the future, to-morrow, for +instance, have to endure the inconvenience of standing a whole hour, but +might listen in comfort. + + + +CHAPTER V + +When next morning at eleven o’clock punctually Raskolnikov went into the +department of the investigation of criminal causes and sent his name in +to Porfiry Petrovitch, he was surprised at being kept waiting so long: +it was at least ten minutes before he was summoned. He had expected +that they would pounce upon him. But he stood in the waiting-room, and +people, who apparently had nothing to do with him, were continually +passing to and fro before him. In the next room which looked like an +office, several clerks were sitting writing and obviously they had +no notion who or what Raskolnikov might be. He looked uneasily and +suspiciously about him to see whether there was not some guard, some +mysterious watch being kept on him to prevent his escape. But there was +nothing of the sort: he saw only the faces of clerks absorbed in petty +details, then other people, no one seemed to have any concern with him. +He might go where he liked for them. The conviction grew stronger in him +that if that enigmatic man of yesterday, that phantom sprung out of the +earth, had seen everything, they would not have let him stand and wait +like that. And would they have waited till he elected to appear at +eleven? Either the man had not yet given information, or... or simply +he knew nothing, had seen nothing (and how could he have seen anything?) +and so all that had happened to him the day before was again a phantom +exaggerated by his sick and overstrained imagination. This conjecture +had begun to grow strong the day before, in the midst of all his +alarm and despair. Thinking it all over now and preparing for a fresh +conflict, he was suddenly aware that he was trembling--and he felt a +rush of indignation at the thought that he was trembling with fear at +facing that hateful Porfiry Petrovitch. What he dreaded above all was +meeting that man again; he hated him with an intense, unmitigated hatred +and was afraid his hatred might betray him. His indignation was such +that he ceased trembling at once; he made ready to go in with a cold and +arrogant bearing and vowed to himself to keep as silent as possible, +to watch and listen and for once at least to control his overstrained +nerves. At that moment he was summoned to Porfiry Petrovitch. + +He found Porfiry Petrovitch alone in his study. His study was a room +neither large nor small, furnished with a large writing-table, that +stood before a sofa, upholstered in checked material, a bureau, a +bookcase in the corner and several chairs--all government furniture, +of polished yellow wood. In the further wall there was a closed door, +beyond it there were no doubt other rooms. On Raskolnikov’s entrance +Porfiry Petrovitch had at once closed the door by which he had come in +and they remained alone. He met his visitor with an apparently genial +and good-tempered air, and it was only after a few minutes that +Raskolnikov saw signs of a certain awkwardness in him, as though he had +been thrown out of his reckoning or caught in something very secret. + +“Ah, my dear fellow! Here you are... in our domain”... began Porfiry, +holding out both hands to him. “Come, sit down, old man... or perhaps +you don’t like to be called ‘my dear fellow’ and ‘old man!’--_tout +court_? Please don’t think it too familiar.... Here, on the sofa.” + +Raskolnikov sat down, keeping his eyes fixed on him. “In our domain,” + the apologies for familiarity, the French phrase _tout court_, were all +characteristic signs. + +“He held out both hands to me, but he did not give me one--he drew it +back in time,” struck him suspiciously. Both were watching each other, +but when their eyes met, quick as lightning they looked away. + +“I brought you this paper... about the watch. Here it is. Is it all +right or shall I copy it again?” + +“What? A paper? Yes, yes, don’t be uneasy, it’s all right,” Porfiry +Petrovitch said as though in haste, and after he had said it he took the +paper and looked at it. “Yes, it’s all right. Nothing more is needed,” + he declared with the same rapidity and he laid the paper on the table. + +A minute later when he was talking of something else he took it from the +table and put it on his bureau. + +“I believe you said yesterday you would like to question me... +formally... about my acquaintance with the murdered woman?” Raskolnikov +was beginning again. “Why did I put in ‘I believe’” passed through +his mind in a flash. “Why am I so uneasy at having put in that ‘_I +believe_’?” came in a second flash. And he suddenly felt that his +uneasiness at the mere contact with Porfiry, at the first words, at the +first looks, had grown in an instant to monstrous proportions, and that +this was fearfully dangerous. His nerves were quivering, his emotion was +increasing. “It’s bad, it’s bad! I shall say too much again.” + +“Yes, yes, yes! There’s no hurry, there’s no hurry,” muttered Porfiry +Petrovitch, moving to and fro about the table without any apparent aim, +as it were making dashes towards the window, the bureau and the table, +at one moment avoiding Raskolnikov’s suspicious glance, then again +standing still and looking him straight in the face. + +His fat round little figure looked very strange, like a ball rolling +from one side to the other and rebounding back. + +“We’ve plenty of time. Do you smoke? have you your own? Here, a +cigarette!” he went on, offering his visitor a cigarette. “You know I am +receiving you here, but my own quarters are through there, you know, my +government quarters. But I am living outside for the time, I had to +have some repairs done here. It’s almost finished now.... Government +quarters, you know, are a capital thing. Eh, what do you think?” + +“Yes, a capital thing,” answered Raskolnikov, looking at him almost +ironically. + +“A capital thing, a capital thing,” repeated Porfiry Petrovitch, as +though he had just thought of something quite different. “Yes, a capital +thing,” he almost shouted at last, suddenly staring at Raskolnikov and +stopping short two steps from him. + +This stupid repetition was too incongruous in its ineptitude with the +serious, brooding and enigmatic glance he turned upon his visitor. + +But this stirred Raskolnikov’s spleen more than ever and he could not +resist an ironical and rather incautious challenge. + +“Tell me, please,” he asked suddenly, looking almost insolently at him +and taking a kind of pleasure in his own insolence. “I believe it’s a +sort of legal rule, a sort of legal tradition--for all investigating +lawyers--to begin their attack from afar, with a trivial, or at least +an irrelevant subject, so as to encourage, or rather, to divert the man +they are cross-examining, to disarm his caution and then all at once to +give him an unexpected knock-down blow with some fatal question. Isn’t +that so? It’s a sacred tradition, mentioned, I fancy, in all the manuals +of the art?” + +“Yes, yes.... Why, do you imagine that was why I spoke about government +quarters... eh?” + +And as he said this Porfiry Petrovitch screwed up his eyes and winked; +a good-humoured, crafty look passed over his face. The wrinkles on his +forehead were smoothed out, his eyes contracted, his features broadened +and he suddenly went off into a nervous prolonged laugh, shaking all +over and looking Raskolnikov straight in the face. The latter forced +himself to laugh, too, but when Porfiry, seeing that he was laughing, +broke into such a guffaw that he turned almost crimson, Raskolnikov’s +repulsion overcame all precaution; he left off laughing, scowled and +stared with hatred at Porfiry, keeping his eyes fixed on him while his +intentionally prolonged laughter lasted. There was lack of precaution on +both sides, however, for Porfiry Petrovitch seemed to be laughing in +his visitor’s face and to be very little disturbed at the annoyance with +which the visitor received it. The latter fact was very significant +in Raskolnikov’s eyes: he saw that Porfiry Petrovitch had not been +embarrassed just before either, but that he, Raskolnikov, had perhaps +fallen into a trap; that there must be something, some motive here +unknown to him; that, perhaps, everything was in readiness and in +another moment would break upon him... + +He went straight to the point at once, rose from his seat and took his +cap. + +“Porfiry Petrovitch,” he began resolutely, though with considerable +irritation, “yesterday you expressed a desire that I should come to you +for some inquiries” (he laid special stress on the word “inquiries”). “I +have come and if you have anything to ask me, ask it, and if not, allow +me to withdraw. I have no time to spare.... I have to be at the funeral +of that man who was run over, of whom you... know also,” he added, +feeling angry at once at having made this addition and more irritated at +his anger. “I am sick of it all, do you hear? and have long been. It’s +partly what made me ill. In short,” he shouted, feeling that the phrase +about his illness was still more out of place, “in short, kindly examine +me or let me go, at once. And if you must examine me, do so in the +proper form! I will not allow you to do so otherwise, and so meanwhile, +good-bye, as we have evidently nothing to keep us now.” + +“Good heavens! What do you mean? What shall I question you about?” + cackled Porfiry Petrovitch with a change of tone, instantly leaving off +laughing. “Please don’t disturb yourself,” he began fidgeting from place +to place and fussily making Raskolnikov sit down. “There’s no hurry, +there’s no hurry, it’s all nonsense. Oh, no, I’m very glad you’ve come +to see me at last... I look upon you simply as a visitor. And as for +my confounded laughter, please excuse it, Rodion Romanovitch. Rodion +Romanovitch? That is your name?... It’s my nerves, you tickled me +so with your witty observation; I assure you, sometimes I shake with +laughter like an india-rubber ball for half an hour at a time.... I’m +often afraid of an attack of paralysis. Do sit down. Please do, or I +shall think you are angry...” + +Raskolnikov did not speak; he listened, watching him, still frowning +angrily. He did sit down, but still held his cap. + +“I must tell you one thing about myself, my dear Rodion Romanovitch,” + Porfiry Petrovitch continued, moving about the room and again avoiding +his visitor’s eyes. “You see, I’m a bachelor, a man of no consequence +and not used to society; besides, I have nothing before me, I’m set, I’m +running to seed and... and have you noticed, Rodion Romanovitch, that in +our Petersburg circles, if two clever men meet who are not intimate, but +respect each other, like you and me, it takes them half an hour before +they can find a subject for conversation--they are dumb, they sit +opposite each other and feel awkward. Everyone has subjects of +conversation, ladies for instance... people in high society always have +their subjects of conversation, _c’est de rigueur_, but people of the +middle sort like us, thinking people that is, are always tongue-tied +and awkward. What is the reason of it? Whether it is the lack of public +interest, or whether it is we are so honest we don’t want to deceive one +another, I don’t know. What do you think? Do put down your cap, it +looks as if you were just going, it makes me uncomfortable... I am so +delighted...” + +Raskolnikov put down his cap and continued listening in silence with +a serious frowning face to the vague and empty chatter of Porfiry +Petrovitch. “Does he really want to distract my attention with his silly +babble?” + +“I can’t offer you coffee here; but why not spend five minutes with a +friend?” Porfiry pattered on, “and you know all these official +duties... please don’t mind my running up and down, excuse it, my dear +fellow, I am very much afraid of offending you, but exercise is +absolutely indispensable for me. I’m always sitting and so glad to be +moving about for five minutes... I suffer from my sedentary life... I +always intend to join a gymnasium; they say that officials of all ranks, +even Privy Councillors, may be seen skipping gaily there; there you have +it, modern science... yes, yes.... But as for my duties here, inquiries +and all such formalities... you mentioned inquiries yourself just now... +I assure you these interrogations are sometimes more embarrassing for +the interrogator than for the interrogated.... You made the observation +yourself just now very aptly and wittily.” (Raskolnikov had made no +observation of the kind.) “One gets into a muddle! A regular muddle! One +keeps harping on the same note, like a drum! There is to be a reform and +we shall be called by a different name, at least, he-he-he! And as for +our legal tradition, as you so wittily called it, I thoroughly agree +with you. Every prisoner on trial, even the rudest peasant, knows that +they begin by disarming him with irrelevant questions (as you so happily +put it) and then deal him a knock-down blow, he-he-he!--your felicitous +comparison, he-he! So you really imagined that I meant by ‘government +quarters’... he-he! You are an ironical person. Come. I won’t go on! Ah, +by the way, yes! One word leads to another. You spoke of formality just +now, apropos of the inquiry, you know. But what’s the use of formality? +In many cases it’s nonsense. Sometimes one has a friendly chat and gets +a good deal more out of it. One can always fall back on formality, allow +me to assure you. And after all, what does it amount to? An examining +lawyer cannot be bounded by formality at every step. The work of +investigation is, so to speak, a free art in its own way, he-he-he!” + +Porfiry Petrovitch took breath a moment. He had simply babbled on +uttering empty phrases, letting slip a few enigmatic words and again +reverting to incoherence. He was almost running about the room, moving +his fat little legs quicker and quicker, looking at the ground, with his +right hand behind his back, while with his left making gesticulations +that were extraordinarily incongruous with his words. Raskolnikov +suddenly noticed that as he ran about the room he seemed twice to stop +for a moment near the door, as though he were listening. + +“Is he expecting anything?” + +“You are certainly quite right about it,” Porfiry began gaily, looking +with extraordinary simplicity at Raskolnikov (which startled him and +instantly put him on his guard); “certainly quite right in laughing so +wittily at our legal forms, he-he! Some of these elaborate psychological +methods are exceedingly ridiculous and perhaps useless, if one adheres +too closely to the forms. Yes... I am talking of forms again. Well, if +I recognise, or more strictly speaking, if I suspect someone or other to +be a criminal in any case entrusted to me... you’re reading for the law, +of course, Rodion Romanovitch?” + +“Yes, I was...” + +“Well, then it is a precedent for you for the future--though don’t +suppose I should venture to instruct you after the articles you publish +about crime! No, I simply make bold to state it by way of fact, if I +took this man or that for a criminal, why, I ask, should I worry him +prematurely, even though I had evidence against him? In one case I may +be bound, for instance, to arrest a man at once, but another may be in +quite a different position, you know, so why shouldn’t I let him walk +about the town a bit? he-he-he! But I see you don’t quite understand, so +I’ll give you a clearer example. If I put him in prison too soon, I +may very likely give him, so to speak, moral support, he-he! You’re +laughing?” + +Raskolnikov had no idea of laughing. He was sitting with compressed +lips, his feverish eyes fixed on Porfiry Petrovitch’s. + +“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?” + +Raskolnikov made no reply; he sat pale and motionless, still gazing with +the same intensity into Porfiry’s face. + +“It’s a lesson,” he thought, turning cold. “This is beyond the cat +playing with a mouse, like yesterday. He can’t be showing off his power +with no motive... prompting me; he is far too clever for that... he must +have another object. What is it? It’s all nonsense, my friend, you are +pretending, to scare me! You’ve no proofs and the man I saw had no +real existence. You simply want to make me lose my head, to work me up +beforehand and so to crush me. But you are wrong, you won’t do it! But +why give me such a hint? Is he reckoning on my shattered nerves? No, my +friend, you are wrong, you won’t do it even though you have some trap +for me... let us see what you have in store for me.” + +And he braced himself to face a terrible and unknown ordeal. At times +he longed to fall on Porfiry and strangle him. This anger was what he +dreaded from the beginning. He felt that his parched lips were flecked +with foam, his heart was throbbing. But he was still determined not to +speak till the right moment. He realised that this was the best +policy in his position, because instead of saying too much he would be +irritating his enemy by his silence and provoking him into speaking too +freely. Anyhow, this was what he hoped for. + +“No, I see you don’t believe me, you think I am playing a harmless joke +on you,” Porfiry began again, getting more and more lively, chuckling +at every instant and again pacing round the room. “And to be sure you’re +right: God has given me a figure that can awaken none but comic ideas in +other people; a buffoon; but let me tell you, and I repeat it, excuse +an old man, my dear Rodion Romanovitch, you are a man still young, so to +say, in your first youth and so you put intellect above everything, like +all young people. Playful wit and abstract arguments fascinate you and +that’s for all the world like the old Austrian _Hof-kriegsrath_, as +far as I can judge of military matters, that is: on paper they’d beaten +Napoleon and taken him prisoner, and there in their study they worked it +all out in the cleverest fashion, but look you, General Mack surrendered +with all his army, he-he-he! I see, I see, Rodion Romanovitch, you are +laughing at a civilian like me, taking examples out of military history! +But I can’t help it, it’s my weakness. I am fond of military science. +And I’m ever so fond of reading all military histories. I’ve certainly +missed my proper career. I ought to have been in the army, upon my +word I ought. I shouldn’t have been a Napoleon, but I might have been a +major, he-he! Well, I’ll tell you the whole truth, my dear fellow, about +this _special case_, I mean: actual fact and a man’s temperament, my +dear sir, are weighty matters and it’s astonishing how they sometimes +deceive the sharpest calculation! I--listen to an old man--am speaking +seriously, Rodion Romanovitch” (as he said this Porfiry Petrovitch, who +was scarcely five-and-thirty, actually seemed to have grown old; even +his voice changed and he seemed to shrink together) “Moreover, I’m +a candid man... am I a candid man or not? What do you say? I fancy I +really am: I tell you these things for nothing and don’t even expect a +reward for it, he-he! Well, to proceed, wit in my opinion is a splendid +thing, it is, so to say, an adornment of nature and a consolation of +life, and what tricks it can play! So that it sometimes is hard for a +poor examining lawyer to know where he is, especially when he’s liable +to be carried away by his own fancy, too, for you know he is a man after +all! But the poor fellow is saved by the criminal’s temperament, worse +luck for him! But young people carried away by their own wit don’t think +of that ‘when they overstep all obstacles,’ as you wittily and cleverly +expressed it yesterday. He will lie--that is, the man who is a _special +case_, the incognito, and he will lie well, in the cleverest fashion; +you might think he would triumph and enjoy the fruits of his wit, but at +the most interesting, the most flagrant moment he will faint. Of course +there may be illness and a stuffy room as well, but anyway! Anyway he’s +given us the idea! He lied incomparably, but he didn’t reckon on his +temperament. That’s what betrays him! Another time he will be carried +away by his playful wit into making fun of the man who suspects him, he +will turn pale as it were on purpose to mislead, but his paleness will +be _too natural_, too much like the real thing, again he has given us +an idea! Though his questioner may be deceived at first, he will think +differently next day if he is not a fool, and, of course, it is like +that at every step! He puts himself forward where he is not wanted, +speaks continually when he ought to keep silent, brings in all sorts of +allegorical allusions, he-he! Comes and asks why didn’t you take me long +ago? he-he-he! And that can happen, you know, with the cleverest man, +the psychologist, the literary man. The temperament reflects everything +like a mirror! Gaze into it and admire what you see! But why are you so +pale, Rodion Romanovitch? Is the room stuffy? Shall I open the window?” + +“Oh, don’t trouble, please,” cried Raskolnikov and he suddenly broke +into a laugh. “Please don’t trouble.” + +Porfiry stood facing him, paused a moment and suddenly he too laughed. +Raskolnikov got up from the sofa, abruptly checking his hysterical +laughter. + +“Porfiry Petrovitch,” he began, speaking loudly and distinctly, though +his legs trembled and he could scarcely stand. “I see clearly at last +that you actually suspect me of murdering that old woman and her sister +Lizaveta. Let me tell you for my part that I am sick of this. If you +find that you have a right to prosecute me legally, to arrest me, then +prosecute me, arrest me. But I will not let myself be jeered at to my +face and worried...” + +His lips trembled, his eyes glowed with fury and he could not restrain +his voice. + +“I won’t allow it!” he shouted, bringing his fist down on the table. “Do +you hear that, Porfiry Petrovitch? I won’t allow it.” + +“Good heavens! What does it mean?” cried Porfiry Petrovitch, apparently +quite frightened. “Rodion Romanovitch, my dear fellow, what is the +matter with you?” + +“I won’t allow it,” Raskolnikov shouted again. + +“Hush, my dear man! They’ll hear and come in. Just think, what could we +say to them?” Porfiry Petrovitch whispered in horror, bringing his face +close to Raskolnikov’s. + +“I won’t allow it, I won’t allow it,” Raskolnikov repeated mechanically, +but he too spoke in a sudden whisper. + +Porfiry turned quickly and ran to open the window. + +“Some fresh air! And you must have some water, my dear fellow. You’re +ill!” and he was running to the door to call for some when he found a +decanter of water in the corner. “Come, drink a little,” he whispered, +rushing up to him with the decanter. “It will be sure to do you good.” + +Porfiry Petrovitch’s alarm and sympathy were so natural that Raskolnikov +was silent and began looking at him with wild curiosity. He did not take +the water, however. + +“Rodion Romanovitch, my dear fellow, you’ll drive yourself out of your +mind, I assure you, ach, ach! Have some water, do drink a little.” + +He forced him to take the glass. Raskolnikov raised it mechanically to +his lips, but set it on the table again with disgust. + +“Yes, you’ve had a little attack! You’ll bring back your illness again, +my dear fellow,” Porfiry Petrovitch cackled with friendly sympathy, +though he still looked rather disconcerted. “Good heavens, you must +take more care of yourself! Dmitri Prokofitch was here, came to see me +yesterday--I know, I know, I’ve a nasty, ironical temper, but what they +made of it!... Good heavens, he came yesterday after you’d been. We +dined and he talked and talked away, and I could only throw up my hands +in despair! Did he come from you? But do sit down, for mercy’s sake, sit +down!” + +“No, not from me, but I knew he went to you and why he went,” + Raskolnikov answered sharply. + +“You knew?” + +“I knew. What of it?” + +“Why this, Rodion Romanovitch, that I know more than that about you; +I know about everything. I know how you went _to take a flat_ at night +when it was dark and how you rang the bell and asked about the blood, so +that the workmen and the porter did not know what to make of it. Yes, I +understand your state of mind at that time... but you’ll drive yourself +mad like that, upon my word! You’ll lose your head! You’re full of +generous indignation at the wrongs you’ve received, first from destiny, +and then from the police officers, and so you rush from one thing to +another to force them to speak out and make an end of it all, because +you are sick of all this suspicion and foolishness. That’s so, isn’t +it? I have guessed how you feel, haven’t I? Only in that way you’ll +lose your head and Razumihin’s, too; he’s too _good_ a man for such +a position, you must know that. You are ill and he is good and your +illness is infectious for him... I’ll tell you about it when you are +more yourself.... But do sit down, for goodness’ sake. Please rest, you +look shocking, do sit down.” + +Raskolnikov sat down; he no longer shivered, he was hot all over. In +amazement he listened with strained attention to Porfiry Petrovitch who +still seemed frightened as he looked after him with friendly solicitude. +But he did not believe a word he said, though he felt a strange +inclination to believe. Porfiry’s unexpected words about the flat had +utterly overwhelmed him. “How can it be, he knows about the flat then,” + he thought suddenly, “and he tells it me himself!” + +“Yes, in our legal practice there was a case almost exactly similar, a +case of morbid psychology,” Porfiry went on quickly. “A man confessed to +murder and how he kept it up! It was a regular hallucination; he brought +forward facts, he imposed upon everyone and why? He had been partly, but +only partly, unintentionally the cause of a murder and when he knew that +he had given the murderers the opportunity, he sank into dejection, it +got on his mind and turned his brain, he began imagining things and he +persuaded himself that he was the murderer. But at last the High Court +of Appeal went into it and the poor fellow was acquitted and put under +proper care. Thanks to the Court of Appeal! Tut-tut-tut! Why, my dear +fellow, you may drive yourself into delirium if you have the impulse +to work upon your nerves, to go ringing bells at night and asking about +blood! I’ve studied all this morbid psychology in my practice. A man +is sometimes tempted to jump out of a window or from a belfry. Just the +same with bell-ringing.... It’s all illness, Rodion Romanovitch! You +have begun to neglect your illness. You should consult an experienced +doctor, what’s the good of that fat fellow? You are lightheaded! You +were delirious when you did all this!” + +For a moment Raskolnikov felt everything going round. + +“Is it possible, is it possible,” flashed through his mind, “that he is +still lying? He can’t be, he can’t be.” He rejected that idea, feeling +to what a degree of fury it might drive him, feeling that that fury +might drive him mad. + +“I was not delirious. I knew what I was doing,” he cried, straining +every faculty to penetrate Porfiry’s game, “I was quite myself, do you +hear?” + +“Yes, I hear and understand. You said yesterday you were not delirious, +you were particularly emphatic about it! I understand all you can tell +me! A-ach!... Listen, Rodion Romanovitch, my dear fellow. If you were +actually a criminal, or were somehow mixed up in this damnable business, +would you insist that you were not delirious but in full possession +of your faculties? And so emphatically and persistently? Would it be +possible? Quite impossible, to my thinking. If you had anything on +your conscience, you certainly ought to insist that you were delirious. +That’s so, isn’t it?” + +There was a note of slyness in this inquiry. Raskolnikov drew back on +the sofa as Porfiry bent over him and stared in silent perplexity at +him. + +“Another thing about Razumihin--you certainly ought to have said that he +came of his own accord, to have concealed your part in it! But you don’t +conceal it! You lay stress on his coming at your instigation.” + +Raskolnikov had not done so. A chill went down his back. + +“You keep telling lies,” he said slowly and weakly, twisting his lips +into a sickly smile, “you are trying again to show that you know all +my game, that you know all I shall say beforehand,” he said, conscious +himself that he was not weighing his words as he ought. “You want to +frighten me... or you are simply laughing at me...” + +He still stared at him as he said this and again there was a light of +intense hatred in his eyes. + +“You keep lying,” he said. “You know perfectly well that the best +policy for the criminal is to tell the truth as nearly as possible... to +conceal as little as possible. I don’t believe you!” + +“What a wily person you are!” Porfiry tittered, “there’s no catching +you; you’ve a perfect monomania. So you don’t believe me? But still you +do believe me, you believe a quarter; I’ll soon make you believe the +whole, because I have a sincere liking for you and genuinely wish you +good.” + +Raskolnikov’s lips trembled. + +“Yes, I do,” went on Porfiry, touching Raskolnikov’s arm genially, “you +must take care of your illness. Besides, your mother and sister are here +now; you must think of them. You must soothe and comfort them and you do +nothing but frighten them...” + +“What has that to do with you? How do you know it? What concern is it of +yours? You are keeping watch on me and want to let me know it?” + +“Good heavens! Why, I learnt it all from you yourself! You don’t +notice that in your excitement you tell me and others everything. From +Razumihin, too, I learnt a number of interesting details yesterday. No, +you interrupted me, but I must tell you that, for all your wit, your +suspiciousness makes you lose the common-sense view of things. To return +to bell-ringing, for instance. I, an examining lawyer, have betrayed a +precious thing like that, a real fact (for it is a fact worth having), +and you see nothing in it! Why, if I had the slightest suspicion of you, +should I have acted like that? No, I should first have disarmed your +suspicions and not let you see I knew of that fact, should have diverted +your attention and suddenly have dealt you a knock-down blow (your +expression) saying: ‘And what were you doing, sir, pray, at ten or +nearly eleven at the murdered woman’s flat and why did you ring the bell +and why did you ask about blood? And why did you invite the porters +to go with you to the police station, to the lieutenant?’ That’s how +I ought to have acted if I had a grain of suspicion of you. I ought to +have taken your evidence in due form, searched your lodging and perhaps +have arrested you, too... so I have no suspicion of you, since I have +not done that! But you can’t look at it normally and you see nothing, I +say again.” + +Raskolnikov started so that Porfiry Petrovitch could not fail to +perceive it. + +“You are lying all the while,” he cried, “I don’t know your object, +but you are lying. You did not speak like that just now and I cannot be +mistaken!” + +“I am lying?” Porfiry repeated, apparently incensed, but preserving +a good-humoured and ironical face, as though he were not in the least +concerned at Raskolnikov’s opinion of him. “I am lying... but how did +I treat you just now, I, the examining lawyer? Prompting you and giving +you every means for your defence; illness, I said, delirium, injury, +melancholy and the police officers and all the rest of it? Ah! He-he-he! +Though, indeed, all those psychological means of defence are not very +reliable and cut both ways: illness, delirium, I don’t remember--that’s +all right, but why, my good sir, in your illness and in your delirium +were you haunted by just those delusions and not by any others? There +may have been others, eh? He-he-he!” + +Raskolnikov looked haughtily and contemptuously at him. + +“Briefly,” he said loudly and imperiously, rising to his feet and in so +doing pushing Porfiry back a little, “briefly, I want to know, do you +acknowledge me perfectly free from suspicion or not? Tell me, Porfiry +Petrovitch, tell me once for all and make haste!” + +“What a business I’m having with you!” cried Porfiry with a perfectly +good-humoured, sly and composed face. “And why do you want to know, why +do you want to know so much, since they haven’t begun to worry you? Why, +you are like a child asking for matches! And why are you so uneasy? Why +do you force yourself upon us, eh? He-he-he!” + +“I repeat,” Raskolnikov cried furiously, “that I can’t put up with it!” + +“With what? Uncertainty?” interrupted Porfiry. + +“Don’t jeer at me! I won’t have it! I tell you I won’t have it. I can’t +and I won’t, do you hear, do you hear?” he shouted, bringing his fist +down on the table again. + +“Hush! Hush! They’ll overhear! I warn you seriously, take care of +yourself. I am not joking,” Porfiry whispered, but this time there was +not the look of old womanish good nature and alarm in his face. Now +he was peremptory, stern, frowning and for once laying aside all +mystification. + +But this was only for an instant. Raskolnikov, bewildered, suddenly fell +into actual frenzy, but, strange to say, he again obeyed the command to +speak quietly, though he was in a perfect paroxysm of fury. + +“I will not allow myself to be tortured,” he whispered, instantly +recognising with hatred that he could not help obeying the command and +driven to even greater fury by the thought. “Arrest me, search me, but +kindly act in due form and don’t play with me! Don’t dare!” + +“Don’t worry about the form,” Porfiry interrupted with the same sly +smile, as it were, gloating with enjoyment over Raskolnikov. “I invited +you to see me quite in a friendly way.” + +“I don’t want your friendship and I spit on it! Do you hear? And, here, +I take my cap and go. What will you say now if you mean to arrest me?” + +He took up his cap and went to the door. + +“And won’t you see my little surprise?” chuckled Porfiry, again taking +him by the arm and stopping him at the door. + +He seemed to become more playful and good-humoured which maddened +Raskolnikov. + +“What surprise?” he asked, standing still and looking at Porfiry in +alarm. + +“My little surprise, it’s sitting there behind the door, he-he-he!” + (He pointed to the locked door.) “I locked him in that he should not +escape.” + +“What is it? Where? What?...” + +Raskolnikov walked to the door and would have opened it, but it was +locked. + +“It’s locked, here is the key!” + +And he brought a key out of his pocket. + +“You are lying,” roared Raskolnikov without restraint, “you lie, you +damned punchinello!” and he rushed at Porfiry who retreated to the other +door, not at all alarmed. + +“I understand it all! You are lying and mocking so that I may betray +myself to you...” + +“Why, you could not betray yourself any further, my dear Rodion +Romanovitch. You are in a passion. Don’t shout, I shall call the +clerks.” + +“You are lying! Call the clerks! You knew I was ill and tried to work +me into a frenzy to make me betray myself, that was your object! Produce +your facts! I understand it all. You’ve no evidence, you have only +wretched rubbishly suspicions like Zametov’s! You knew my character, you +wanted to drive me to fury and then to knock me down with priests and +deputies.... Are you waiting for them? eh! What are you waiting for? +Where are they? Produce them?” + +“Why deputies, my good man? What things people will imagine! And to do +so would not be acting in form as you say, you don’t know the business, +my dear fellow.... And there’s no escaping form, as you see,” Porfiry +muttered, listening at the door through which a noise could be heard. + +“Ah, they’re coming,” cried Raskolnikov. “You’ve sent for them! You +expected them! Well, produce them all: your deputies, your witnesses, +what you like!... I am ready!” + +But at this moment a strange incident occurred, something so unexpected +that neither Raskolnikov nor Porfiry Petrovitch could have looked for +such a conclusion to their interview. + + + +CHAPTER VI + +When he remembered the scene afterwards, this is how Raskolnikov saw it. + +The noise behind the door increased, and suddenly the door was opened a +little. + +“What is it?” cried Porfiry Petrovitch, annoyed. “Why, I gave orders...” + +For an instant there was no answer, but it was evident that there were +several persons at the door, and that they were apparently pushing +somebody back. + +“What is it?” Porfiry Petrovitch repeated, uneasily. + +“The prisoner Nikolay has been brought,” someone answered. + +“He is not wanted! Take him away! Let him wait! What’s he doing here? +How irregular!” cried Porfiry, rushing to the door. + +“But he...” began the same voice, and suddenly ceased. + +Two seconds, not more, were spent in actual struggle, then someone gave +a violent shove, and then a man, very pale, strode into the room. + +This man’s appearance was at first sight very strange. He stared +straight before him, as though seeing nothing. There was a determined +gleam in his eyes; at the same time there was a deathly pallor in his +face, as though he were being led to the scaffold. His white lips were +faintly twitching. + +He was dressed like a workman and was of medium height, very young, +slim, his hair cut in round crop, with thin spare features. The man whom +he had thrust back followed him into the room and succeeded in seizing +him by the shoulder; he was a warder; but Nikolay pulled his arm away. + +Several persons crowded inquisitively into the doorway. Some of them +tried to get in. All this took place almost instantaneously. + +“Go away, it’s too soon! Wait till you are sent for!... Why have you +brought him so soon?” Porfiry Petrovitch muttered, extremely annoyed, +and as it were thrown out of his reckoning. + +But Nikolay suddenly knelt down. + +“What’s the matter?” cried Porfiry, surprised. + +“I am guilty! Mine is the sin! I am the murderer,” Nikolay articulated +suddenly, rather breathless, but speaking fairly loudly. + +For ten seconds there was silence as though all had been struck dumb; +even the warder stepped back, mechanically retreated to the door, and +stood immovable. + +“What is it?” cried Porfiry Petrovitch, recovering from his momentary +stupefaction. + +“I... am the murderer,” repeated Nikolay, after a brief pause. + +“What... you... what... whom did you kill?” Porfiry Petrovitch was +obviously bewildered. + +Nikolay again was silent for a moment. + +“Alyona Ivanovna and her sister Lizaveta Ivanovna, I... killed... with +an axe. Darkness came over me,” he added suddenly, and was again silent. + +He still remained on his knees. Porfiry Petrovitch stood for some +moments as though meditating, but suddenly roused himself and waved back +the uninvited spectators. They instantly vanished and closed the door. +Then he looked towards Raskolnikov, who was standing in the corner, +staring wildly at Nikolay and moved towards him, but stopped short, +looked from Nikolay to Raskolnikov and then again at Nikolay, and +seeming unable to restrain himself darted at the latter. + +“You’re in too great a hurry,” he shouted at him, almost angrily. “I +didn’t ask you what came over you.... Speak, did you kill them?” + +“I am the murderer.... I want to give evidence,” Nikolay pronounced. + +“Ach! What did you kill them with?” + +“An axe. I had it ready.” + +“Ach, he is in a hurry! Alone?” + +Nikolay did not understand the question. + +“Did you do it alone?” + +“Yes, alone. And Mitka is not guilty and had no share in it.” + +“Don’t be in a hurry about Mitka! A-ach! How was it you ran downstairs +like that at the time? The porters met you both!” + +“It was to put them off the scent... I ran after Mitka,” Nikolay replied +hurriedly, as though he had prepared the answer. + +“I knew it!” cried Porfiry, with vexation. “It’s not his own tale he is +telling,” he muttered as though to himself, and suddenly his eyes rested +on Raskolnikov again. + +He was apparently so taken up with Nikolay that for a moment he had +forgotten Raskolnikov. He was a little taken aback. + +“My dear Rodion Romanovitch, excuse me!” he flew up to him, “this won’t +do; I’m afraid you must go... it’s no good your staying... I will... +you see, what a surprise!... Good-bye!” + +And taking him by the arm, he showed him to the door. + +“I suppose you didn’t expect it?” said Raskolnikov who, though he had +not yet fully grasped the situation, had regained his courage. + +“You did not expect it either, my friend. See how your hand is +trembling! He-he!” + +“You’re trembling, too, Porfiry Petrovitch!” + +“Yes, I am; I didn’t expect it.” + +They were already at the door; Porfiry was impatient for Raskolnikov to +be gone. + +“And your little surprise, aren’t you going to show it to me?” + Raskolnikov said, sarcastically. + +“Why, his teeth are chattering as he asks, he-he! You are an ironical +person! Come, till we meet!” + +“I believe we can say _good-bye_!” + +“That’s in God’s hands,” muttered Porfiry, with an unnatural smile. + +As he walked through the office, Raskolnikov noticed that many people +were looking at him. Among them he saw the two porters from _the_ house, +whom he had invited that night to the police station. They stood there +waiting. But he was no sooner on the stairs than he heard the voice of +Porfiry Petrovitch behind him. Turning round, he saw the latter running +after him, out of breath. + +“One word, Rodion Romanovitch; as to all the rest, it’s in God’s hands, +but as a matter of form there are some questions I shall have to ask +you... so we shall meet again, shan’t we?” + +And Porfiry stood still, facing him with a smile. + +“Shan’t we?” he added again. + +He seemed to want to say something more, but could not speak out. + +“You must forgive me, Porfiry Petrovitch, for what has just passed... I +lost my temper,” began Raskolnikov, who had so far regained his courage +that he felt irresistibly inclined to display his coolness. + +“Don’t mention it, don’t mention it,” Porfiry replied, almost gleefully. +“I myself, too... I have a wicked temper, I admit it! But we shall meet +again. If it’s God’s will, we may see a great deal of one another.” + +“And will get to know each other through and through?” added +Raskolnikov. + +“Yes; know each other through and through,” assented Porfiry Petrovitch, +and he screwed up his eyes, looking earnestly at Raskolnikov. “Now +you’re going to a birthday party?” + +“To a funeral.” + +“Of course, the funeral! Take care of yourself, and get well.” + +“I don’t know what to wish you,” said Raskolnikov, who had begun to +descend the stairs, but looked back again. “I should like to wish you +success, but your office is such a comical one.” + +“Why comical?” Porfiry Petrovitch had turned to go, but he seemed to +prick up his ears at this. + +“Why, how you must have been torturing and harassing that poor Nikolay +psychologically, after your fashion, till he confessed! You must have +been at him day and night, proving to him that he was the murderer, and +now that he has confessed, you’ll begin vivisecting him again. ‘You are +lying,’ you’ll say. ‘You are not the murderer! You can’t be! It’s not +your own tale you are telling!’ You must admit it’s a comical business!” + +“He-he-he! You noticed then that I said to Nikolay just now that it was +not his own tale he was telling?” + +“How could I help noticing it!” + +“He-he! You are quick-witted. You notice everything! You’ve really a +playful mind! And you always fasten on the comic side... he-he! They say +that was the marked characteristic of Gogol, among the writers.” + +“Yes, of Gogol.” + +“Yes, of Gogol.... I shall look forward to meeting you.” + +“So shall I.” + +Raskolnikov walked straight home. He was so muddled and bewildered that +on getting home he sat for a quarter of an hour on the sofa, trying to +collect his thoughts. He did not attempt to think about Nikolay; he +was stupefied; he felt that his confession was something inexplicable, +amazing--something beyond his understanding. But Nikolay’s confession +was an actual fact. The consequences of this fact were clear to him at +once, its falsehood could not fail to be discovered, and then they +would be after him again. Till then, at least, he was free and must do +something for himself, for the danger was imminent. + +But how imminent? His position gradually became clear to him. +Remembering, sketchily, the main outlines of his recent scene with +Porfiry, he could not help shuddering again with horror. Of course, +he did not yet know all Porfiry’s aims, he could not see into all his +calculations. But he had already partly shown his hand, and no one knew +better than Raskolnikov how terrible Porfiry’s “lead” had been for +him. A little more and he _might_ have given himself away completely, +circumstantially. Knowing his nervous temperament and from the first +glance seeing through him, Porfiry, though playing a bold game, was +bound to win. There’s no denying that Raskolnikov had compromised +himself seriously, but no _facts_ had come to light as yet; there was +nothing positive. But was he taking a true view of the position? Wasn’t +he mistaken? What had Porfiry been trying to get at? Had he really some +surprise prepared for him? And what was it? Had he really been expecting +something or not? How would they have parted if it had not been for the +unexpected appearance of Nikolay? + +Porfiry had shown almost all his cards--of course, he had risked +something in showing them--and if he had really had anything up his +sleeve (Raskolnikov reflected), he would have shown that, too. What was +that “surprise”? Was it a joke? Had it meant anything? Could it have +concealed anything like a fact, a piece of positive evidence? His +yesterday’s visitor? What had become of him? Where was he to-day? If +Porfiry really had any evidence, it must be connected with him.... + +He sat on the sofa with his elbows on his knees and his face hidden in +his hands. He was still shivering nervously. At last he got up, took his +cap, thought a minute, and went to the door. + +He had a sort of presentiment that for to-day, at least, he might +consider himself out of danger. He had a sudden sense almost of joy; he +wanted to make haste to Katerina Ivanovna’s. He would be too late for +the funeral, of course, but he would be in time for the memorial dinner, +and there at once he would see Sonia. + +He stood still, thought a moment, and a suffering smile came for a +moment on to his lips. + +“To-day! To-day,” he repeated to himself. “Yes, to-day! So it must +be....” + +But as he was about to open the door, it began opening of itself. He +started and moved back. The door opened gently and slowly, and there +suddenly appeared a figure--yesterday’s visitor _from underground_. + +The man stood in the doorway, looked at Raskolnikov without speaking, +and took a step forward into the room. He was exactly the same as +yesterday; the same figure, the same dress, but there was a great change +in his face; he looked dejected and sighed deeply. If he had only put +his hand up to his cheek and leaned his head on one side he would have +looked exactly like a peasant woman. + +“What do you want?” asked Raskolnikov, numb with terror. The man was +still silent, but suddenly he bowed down almost to the ground, touching +it with his finger. + +“What is it?” cried Raskolnikov. + +“I have sinned,” the man articulated softly. + +“How?” + +“By evil thoughts.” + +They looked at one another. + +“I was vexed. When you came, perhaps in drink, and bade the porters go +to the police station and asked about the blood, I was vexed that they +let you go and took you for drunken. I was so vexed that I lost my +sleep. And remembering the address we came here yesterday and asked for +you....” + +“Who came?” Raskolnikov interrupted, instantly beginning to recollect. + +“I did, I’ve wronged you.” + +“Then you come from that house?” + +“I was standing at the gate with them... don’t you remember? We have +carried on our trade in that house for years past. We cure and prepare +hides, we take work home... most of all I was vexed....” + +And the whole scene of the day before yesterday in the gateway came +clearly before Raskolnikov’s mind; he recollected that there had +been several people there besides the porters, women among them. +He remembered one voice had suggested taking him straight to the +police-station. He could not recall the face of the speaker, and even +now he did not recognise it, but he remembered that he had turned round +and made him some answer.... + +So this was the solution of yesterday’s horror. The most awful thought +was that he had been actually almost lost, had almost done for himself +on account of such a _trivial_ circumstance. So this man could tell +nothing except his asking about the flat and the blood stains. So +Porfiry, too, had nothing but that _delirium_, no facts but this +_psychology_ which _cuts both ways_, nothing positive. So if no more +facts come to light (and they must not, they must not!) then... then +what can they do to him? How can they convict him, even if they arrest +him? And Porfiry then had only just heard about the flat and had not +known about it before. + +“Was it you who told Porfiry... that I’d been there?” he cried, struck +by a sudden idea. + +“What Porfiry?” + +“The head of the detective department?” + +“Yes. The porters did not go there, but I went.” + +“To-day?” + +“I got there two minutes before you. And I heard, I heard it all, how he +worried you.” + +“Where? What? When?” + +“Why, in the next room. I was sitting there all the time.” + +“What? Why, then you were the surprise? But how could it happen? Upon my +word!” + +“I saw that the porters did not want to do what I said,” began the man; +“for it’s too late, said they, and maybe he’ll be angry that we did not +come at the time. I was vexed and I lost my sleep, and I began making +inquiries. And finding out yesterday where to go, I went to-day. The +first time I went he wasn’t there, when I came an hour later he couldn’t +see me. I went the third time, and they showed me in. I informed him of +everything, just as it happened, and he began skipping about the room +and punching himself on the chest. ‘What do you scoundrels mean by it? +If I’d known about it I should have arrested him!’ Then he ran out, +called somebody and began talking to him in the corner, then he turned +to me, scolding and questioning me. He scolded me a great deal; and I +told him everything, and I told him that you didn’t dare to say a word +in answer to me yesterday and that you didn’t recognise me. And he +fell to running about again and kept hitting himself on the chest, and +getting angry and running about, and when you were announced he told +me to go into the next room. ‘Sit there a bit,’ he said. ‘Don’t move, +whatever you may hear.’ And he set a chair there for me and locked +me in. ‘Perhaps,’ he said, ‘I may call you.’ And when Nikolay’d been +brought he let me out as soon as you were gone. ‘I shall send for you +again and question you,’ he said.” + +“And did he question Nikolay while you were there?” + +“He got rid of me as he did of you, before he spoke to Nikolay.” + +The man stood still, and again suddenly bowed down, touching the ground +with his finger. + +“Forgive me for my evil thoughts, and my slander.” + +“May God forgive you,” answered Raskolnikov. + +And as he said this, the man bowed down again, but not to the ground, +turned slowly and went out of the room. + +“It all cuts both ways, now it all cuts both ways,” repeated +Raskolnikov, and he went out more confident than ever. + +“Now we’ll make a fight for it,” he said, with a malicious smile, as he +went down the stairs. His malice was aimed at himself; with shame and +contempt he recollected his “cowardice.” + + + + +PART V + + + +CHAPTER I + +The morning that followed the fateful interview with Dounia and +her mother brought sobering influences to bear on Pyotr Petrovitch. +Intensely unpleasant as it was, he was forced little by little to accept +as a fact beyond recall what had seemed to him only the day before +fantastic and incredible. The black snake of wounded vanity had been +gnawing at his heart all night. When he got out of bed, Pyotr Petrovitch +immediately looked in the looking-glass. He was afraid that he had +jaundice. However his health seemed unimpaired so far, and looking at +his noble, clear-skinned countenance which had grown fattish of +late, Pyotr Petrovitch for an instant was positively comforted in the +conviction that he would find another bride and, perhaps, even a better +one. But coming back to the sense of his present position, he turned +aside and spat vigorously, which excited a sarcastic smile in Andrey +Semyonovitch Lebeziatnikov, the young friend with whom he was staying. +That smile Pyotr Petrovitch noticed, and at once set it down against his +young friend’s account. He had set down a good many points against him +of late. His anger was redoubled when he reflected that he ought not to +have told Andrey Semyonovitch about the result of yesterday’s interview. +That was the second mistake he had made in temper, through impulsiveness +and irritability.... Moreover, all that morning one unpleasantness +followed another. He even found a hitch awaiting him in his legal case +in the senate. He was particularly irritated by the owner of the flat +which had been taken in view of his approaching marriage and was being +redecorated at his own expense; the owner, a rich German tradesman, +would not entertain the idea of breaking the contract which had just +been signed and insisted on the full forfeit money, though Pyotr +Petrovitch would be giving him back the flat practically redecorated. In +the same way the upholsterers refused to return a single rouble of the +instalment paid for the furniture purchased but not yet removed to the +flat. + +“Am I to get married simply for the sake of the furniture?” Pyotr +Petrovitch ground his teeth and at the same time once more he had a +gleam of desperate hope. “Can all that be really so irrevocably over? +Is it no use to make another effort?” The thought of Dounia sent a +voluptuous pang through his heart. He endured anguish at that moment, +and if it had been possible to slay Raskolnikov instantly by wishing it, +Pyotr Petrovitch would promptly have uttered the wish. + +“It was my mistake, too, not to have given them money,” he thought, as +he returned dejectedly to Lebeziatnikov’s room, “and why on earth was I +such a Jew? It was false economy! I meant to keep them without a penny +so that they should turn to me as their providence, and look at them! +foo! If I’d spent some fifteen hundred roubles on them for the trousseau +and presents, on knick-knacks, dressing-cases, jewellery, materials, and +all that sort of trash from Knopp’s and the English shop, my position +would have been better and... stronger! They could not have refused me +so easily! They are the sort of people that would feel bound to return +money and presents if they broke it off; and they would find it hard to +do it! And their conscience would prick them: how can we dismiss a man +who has hitherto been so generous and delicate?.... H’m! I’ve made a +blunder.” + +And grinding his teeth again, Pyotr Petrovitch called himself a +fool--but not aloud, of course. + +He returned home, twice as irritated and angry as before. The +preparations for the funeral dinner at Katerina Ivanovna’s excited +his curiosity as he passed. He had heard about it the day before; he +fancied, indeed, that he had been invited, but absorbed in his own cares +he had paid no attention. Inquiring of Madame Lippevechsel who was busy +laying the table while Katerina Ivanovna was away at the cemetery, he +heard that the entertainment was to be a great affair, that all the +lodgers had been invited, among them some who had not known the dead +man, that even Andrey Semyonovitch Lebeziatnikov was invited in spite of +his previous quarrel with Katerina Ivanovna, that he, Pyotr Petrovitch, +was not only invited, but was eagerly expected as he was the most +important of the lodgers. Amalia Ivanovna herself had been invited with +great ceremony in spite of the recent unpleasantness, and so she was +very busy with preparations and was taking a positive pleasure in them; +she was moreover dressed up to the nines, all in new black silk, and she +was proud of it. All this suggested an idea to Pyotr Petrovitch and he +went into his room, or rather Lebeziatnikov’s, somewhat thoughtful. He +had learnt that Raskolnikov was to be one of the guests. + +Andrey Semyonovitch had been at home all the morning. The attitude of +Pyotr Petrovitch to this gentleman was strange, though perhaps natural. +Pyotr Petrovitch had despised and hated him from the day he came to stay +with him and at the same time he seemed somewhat afraid of him. He +had not come to stay with him on his arrival in Petersburg simply from +parsimony, though that had been perhaps his chief object. He had heard +of Andrey Semyonovitch, who had once been his ward, as a leading young +progressive who was taking an important part in certain interesting +circles, the doings of which were a legend in the provinces. It had +impressed Pyotr Petrovitch. These powerful omniscient circles who +despised everyone and showed everyone up had long inspired in him a +peculiar but quite vague alarm. He had not, of course, been able to form +even an approximate notion of what they meant. He, like everyone, had +heard that there were, especially in Petersburg, progressives of some +sort, nihilists and so on, and, like many people, he exaggerated and +distorted the significance of those words to an absurd degree. What for +many years past he had feared more than anything was _being shown +up_ and this was the chief ground for his continual uneasiness at the +thought of transferring his business to Petersburg. He was afraid of +this as little children are sometimes panic-stricken. Some years before, +when he was just entering on his own career, he had come upon two cases +in which rather important personages in the province, patrons of his, +had been cruelly shown up. One instance had ended in great scandal +for the person attacked and the other had very nearly ended in serious +trouble. For this reason Pyotr Petrovitch intended to go into the +subject as soon as he reached Petersburg and, if necessary, to +anticipate contingencies by seeking the favour of “our younger +generation.” He relied on Andrey Semyonovitch for this and before +his visit to Raskolnikov he had succeeded in picking up some current +phrases. He soon discovered that Andrey Semyonovitch was a commonplace +simpleton, but that by no means reassured Pyotr Petrovitch. Even if he +had been certain that all the progressives were fools like him, it +would not have allayed his uneasiness. All the doctrines, the ideas, the +systems, with which Andrey Semyonovitch pestered him had no interest for +him. He had his own object--he simply wanted to find out at once what +was happening _here_. Had these people any power or not? Had he anything +to fear from them? Would they expose any enterprise of his? And what +precisely was now the object of their attacks? Could he somehow make up +to them and get round them if they really were powerful? Was this the +thing to do or not? Couldn’t he gain something through them? In fact +hundreds of questions presented themselves. + +Andrey Semyonovitch was an anæmic, scrofulous little man, with strangely +flaxen mutton-chop whiskers of which he was very proud. He was a clerk +and had almost always something wrong with his eyes. He was rather +soft-hearted, but self-confident and sometimes extremely conceited in +speech, which had an absurd effect, incongruous with his little figure. +He was one of the lodgers most respected by Amalia Ivanovna, for he did +not get drunk and paid regularly for his lodgings. Andrey Semyonovitch +really was rather stupid; he attached himself to the cause of progress +and “our younger generation” from enthusiasm. He was one of the numerous +and varied legion of dullards, of half-animate abortions, conceited, +half-educated coxcombs, who attach themselves to the idea most in +fashion only to vulgarise it and who caricature every cause they serve, +however sincerely. + +Though Lebeziatnikov was so good-natured, he, too, was beginning to +dislike Pyotr Petrovitch. This happened on both sides unconsciously. +However simple Andrey Semyonovitch might be, he began to see that Pyotr +Petrovitch was duping him and secretly despising him, and that “he was +not the right sort of man.” He had tried expounding to him the system of +Fourier and the Darwinian theory, but of late Pyotr Petrovitch began to +listen too sarcastically and even to be rude. The fact was he had begun +instinctively to guess that Lebeziatnikov was not merely a commonplace +simpleton, but, perhaps, a liar, too, and that he had no connections of +any consequence even in his own circle, but had simply picked things up +third-hand; and that very likely he did not even know much about his own +work of propaganda, for he was in too great a muddle. A fine person he +would be to show anyone up! It must be noted, by the way, that Pyotr +Petrovitch had during those ten days eagerly accepted the strangest +praise from Andrey Semyonovitch; he had not protested, for instance, +when Andrey Semyonovitch belauded him for being ready to contribute to +the establishment of the new “commune,” or to abstain from christening +his future children, or to acquiesce if Dounia were to take a lover a +month after marriage, and so on. Pyotr Petrovitch so enjoyed hearing +his own praises that he did not disdain even such virtues when they were +attributed to him. + +Pyotr Petrovitch had had occasion that morning to realise some +five-per-cent bonds and now he sat down to the table and counted over +bundles of notes. Andrey Semyonovitch who hardly ever had any money +walked about the room pretending to himself to look at all those bank +notes with indifference and even contempt. Nothing would have convinced +Pyotr Petrovitch that Andrey Semyonovitch could really look on the money +unmoved, and the latter, on his side, kept thinking bitterly that Pyotr +Petrovitch was capable of entertaining such an idea about him and +was, perhaps, glad of the opportunity of teasing his young friend by +reminding him of his inferiority and the great difference between them. + +He found him incredibly inattentive and irritable, though he, Andrey +Semyonovitch, began enlarging on his favourite subject, the foundation +of a new special “commune.” The brief remarks that dropped from Pyotr +Petrovitch between the clicking of the beads on the reckoning frame +betrayed unmistakable and discourteous irony. But the “humane” Andrey +Semyonovitch ascribed Pyotr Petrovitch’s ill-humour to his recent breach +with Dounia and he was burning with impatience to discourse on that +theme. He had something progressive to say on the subject which +might console his worthy friend and “could not fail” to promote his +development. + +“There is some sort of festivity being prepared at that... at the +widow’s, isn’t there?” Pyotr Petrovitch asked suddenly, interrupting +Andrey Semyonovitch at the most interesting passage. + +“Why, don’t you know? Why, I was telling you last night what I think +about all such ceremonies. And she invited you too, I heard. You were +talking to her yesterday...” + +“I should never have expected that beggarly fool would have spent on +this feast all the money she got from that other fool, Raskolnikov. I +was surprised just now as I came through at the preparations there, the +wines! Several people are invited. It’s beyond everything!” continued +Pyotr Petrovitch, who seemed to have some object in pursuing the +conversation. “What? You say I am asked too? When was that? I don’t +remember. But I shan’t go. Why should I? I only said a word to her in +passing yesterday of the possibility of her obtaining a year’s salary as +a destitute widow of a government clerk. I suppose she has invited me on +that account, hasn’t she? He-he-he!” + +“I don’t intend to go either,” said Lebeziatnikov. + +“I should think not, after giving her a thrashing! You might well +hesitate, he-he!” + +“Who thrashed? Whom?” cried Lebeziatnikov, flustered and blushing. + +“Why, you thrashed Katerina Ivanovna a month ago. I heard so +yesterday... so that’s what your convictions amount to... and the woman +question, too, wasn’t quite sound, he-he-he!” and Pyotr Petrovitch, as +though comforted, went back to clicking his beads. + +“It’s all slander and nonsense!” cried Lebeziatnikov, who was always +afraid of allusions to the subject. “It was not like that at all, it +was quite different. You’ve heard it wrong; it’s a libel. I was simply +defending myself. She rushed at me first with her nails, she pulled +out all my whiskers.... It’s permissable for anyone, I should hope, +to defend himself and I never allow anyone to use violence to me on +principle, for it’s an act of despotism. What was I to do? I simply +pushed her back.” + +“He-he-he!” Luzhin went on laughing maliciously. + +“You keep on like that because you are out of humour yourself.... But +that’s nonsense and it has nothing, nothing whatever to do with the +woman question! You don’t understand; I used to think, indeed, that +if women are equal to men in all respects, even in strength (as is +maintained now) there ought to be equality in that, too. Of course, I +reflected afterwards that such a question ought not really to arise, +for there ought not to be fighting and in the future society fighting is +unthinkable... and that it would be a queer thing to seek for equality +in fighting. I am not so stupid... though, of course, there is +fighting... there won’t be later, but at present there is... confound +it! How muddled one gets with you! It’s not on that account that I +am not going. I am not going on principle, not to take part in the +revolting convention of memorial dinners, that’s why! Though, of course, +one might go to laugh at it.... I am sorry there won’t be any priests at +it. I should certainly go if there were.” + +“Then you would sit down at another man’s table and insult it and those +who invited you. Eh?” + +“Certainly not insult, but protest. I should do it with a good object. I +might indirectly assist the cause of enlightenment and propaganda. It’s +a duty of every man to work for enlightenment and propaganda and the +more harshly, perhaps, the better. I might drop a seed, an idea.... And +something might grow up from that seed. How should I be insulting them? +They might be offended at first, but afterwards they’d see I’d done them +a service. You know, Terebyeva (who is in the community now) was blamed +because when she left her family and... devoted... herself, she wrote to +her father and mother that she wouldn’t go on living conventionally and +was entering on a free marriage and it was said that that was too harsh, +that she might have spared them and have written more kindly. I think +that’s all nonsense and there’s no need of softness; on the contrary, +what’s wanted is protest. Varents had been married seven years, she +abandoned her two children, she told her husband straight out in a +letter: ‘I have realised that I cannot be happy with you. I can never +forgive you that you have deceived me by concealing from me that there +is another organisation of society by means of the communities. I have +only lately learned it from a great-hearted man to whom I have given +myself and with whom I am establishing a community. I speak plainly +because I consider it dishonest to deceive you. Do as you think best. +Do not hope to get me back, you are too late. I hope you will be happy.’ +That’s how letters like that ought to be written!” + +“Is that Terebyeva the one you said had made a third free marriage?” + +“No, it’s only the second, really! But what if it were the fourth, what +if it were the fifteenth, that’s all nonsense! And if ever I regretted +the death of my father and mother, it is now, and I sometimes think +if my parents were living what a protest I would have aimed at them! I +would have done something on purpose... I would have shown them! I would +have astonished them! I am really sorry there is no one!” + +“To surprise! He-he! Well, be that as you will,” Pyotr Petrovitch +interrupted, “but tell me this; do you know the dead man’s daughter, the +delicate-looking little thing? It’s true what they say about her, isn’t +it?” + +“What of it? I think, that is, it is my own personal conviction that +this is the normal condition of women. Why not? I mean, _distinguons_. +In our present society it is not altogether normal, because it is +compulsory, but in the future society it will be perfectly normal, +because it will be voluntary. Even as it is, she was quite right: she +was suffering and that was her asset, so to speak, her capital which +she had a perfect right to dispose of. Of course, in the future +society there will be no need of assets, but her part will have another +significance, rational and in harmony with her environment. As to Sofya +Semyonovna personally, I regard her action as a vigorous protest against +the organisation of society, and I respect her deeply for it; I rejoice +indeed when I look at her!” + +“I was told that you got her turned out of these lodgings.” + +Lebeziatnikov was enraged. + +“That’s another slander,” he yelled. “It was not so at all! That was all +Katerina Ivanovna’s invention, for she did not understand! And I never +made love to Sofya Semyonovna! I was simply developing her, entirely +disinterestedly, trying to rouse her to protest.... All I wanted was her +protest and Sofya Semyonovna could not have remained here anyway!” + +“Have you asked her to join your community?” + +“You keep on laughing and very inappropriately, allow me to tell +you. You don’t understand! There is no such rôle in a community. The +community is established that there should be no such rôles. In a +community, such a rôle is essentially transformed and what is stupid +here is sensible there, what, under present conditions, is unnatural +becomes perfectly natural in the community. It all depends on the +environment. It’s all the environment and man himself is nothing. And +I am on good terms with Sofya Semyonovna to this day, which is a proof +that she never regarded me as having wronged her. I am trying now to +attract her to the community, but on quite, quite a different footing. +What are you laughing at? We are trying to establish a community of +our own, a special one, on a broader basis. We have gone further in our +convictions. We reject more! And meanwhile I’m still developing Sofya +Semyonovna. She has a beautiful, beautiful character!” + +“And you take advantage of her fine character, eh? He-he!” + +“No, no! Oh, no! On the contrary.” + +“Oh, on the contrary! He-he-he! A queer thing to say!” + +“Believe me! Why should I disguise it? In fact, I feel it strange myself +how timid, chaste and modern she is with me!” + +“And you, of course, are developing her... he-he! trying to prove to her +that all that modesty is nonsense?” + +“Not at all, not at all! How coarsely, how stupidly--excuse me saying +so--you misunderstand the word development! Good heavens, how... crude +you still are! We are striving for the freedom of women and you have +only one idea in your head.... Setting aside the general question +of chastity and feminine modesty as useless in themselves and indeed +prejudices, I fully accept her chastity with me, because that’s for her +to decide. Of course if she were to tell me herself that she wanted me, +I should think myself very lucky, because I like the girl very much; but +as it is, no one has ever treated her more courteously than I, with more +respect for her dignity... I wait in hopes, that’s all!” + +“You had much better make her a present of something. I bet you never +thought of that.” + +“You don’t understand, as I’ve told you already! Of course, she is in +such a position, but it’s another question. Quite another question! +You simply despise her. Seeing a fact which you mistakenly consider +deserving of contempt, you refuse to take a humane view of a fellow +creature. You don’t know what a character she is! I am only sorry that +of late she has quite given up reading and borrowing books. I used +to lend them to her. I am sorry, too, that with all the energy and +resolution in protesting--which she has already shown once--she has +little self-reliance, little, so to say, independence, so as to +break free from certain prejudices and certain foolish ideas. Yet she +thoroughly understands some questions, for instance about kissing of +hands, that is, that it’s an insult to a woman for a man to kiss her +hand, because it’s a sign of inequality. We had a debate about it and +I described it to her. She listened attentively to an account of the +workmen’s associations in France, too. Now I am explaining the question +of coming into the room in the future society.” + +“And what’s that, pray?” + +“We had a debate lately on the question: Has a member of the community +the right to enter another member’s room, whether man or woman, at any +time... and we decided that he has!” + +“It might be at an inconvenient moment, he-he!” + +Lebeziatnikov was really angry. + +“You are always thinking of something unpleasant,” he cried with +aversion. “Tfoo! How vexed I am that when I was expounding our system, I +referred prematurely to the question of personal privacy! It’s always +a stumbling-block to people like you, they turn it into ridicule before +they understand it. And how proud they are of it, too! Tfoo! I’ve often +maintained that that question should not be approached by a novice till +he has a firm faith in the system. And tell me, please, what do you +find so shameful even in cesspools? I should be the first to be ready +to clean out any cesspool you like. And it’s not a question of +self-sacrifice, it’s simply work, honourable, useful work which is +as good as any other and much better than the work of a Raphael and a +Pushkin, because it is more useful.” + +“And more honourable, more honourable, he-he-he!” + +“What do you mean by ‘more honourable’? I don’t understand such +expressions to describe human activity. ‘More honourable,’ ‘nobler’--all +those are old-fashioned prejudices which I reject. Everything which is +_of use_ to mankind is honourable. I only understand one word: _useful_! +You can snigger as much as you like, but that’s so!” + +Pyotr Petrovitch laughed heartily. He had finished counting the money +and was putting it away. But some of the notes he left on the table. The +“cesspool question” had already been a subject of dispute between them. +What was absurd was that it made Lebeziatnikov really angry, while it +amused Luzhin and at that moment he particularly wanted to anger his +young friend. + +“It’s your ill-luck yesterday that makes you so ill-humoured and +annoying,” blurted out Lebeziatnikov, who in spite of his “independence” + and his “protests” did not venture to oppose Pyotr Petrovitch and still +behaved to him with some of the respect habitual in earlier years. + +“You’d better tell me this,” Pyotr Petrovitch interrupted with haughty +displeasure, “can you... or rather are you really friendly enough with +that young person to ask her to step in here for a minute? I think +they’ve all come back from the cemetery... I heard the sound of +steps... I want to see her, that young person.” + +“What for?” Lebeziatnikov asked with surprise. + +“Oh, I want to. I am leaving here to-day or to-morrow and therefore I +wanted to speak to her about... However, you may be present during the +interview. It’s better you should be, indeed. For there’s no knowing +what you might imagine.” + +“I shan’t imagine anything. I only asked and, if you’ve anything to say +to her, nothing is easier than to call her in. I’ll go directly and you +may be sure I won’t be in your way.” + +Five minutes later Lebeziatnikov came in with Sonia. She came in very +much surprised and overcome with shyness as usual. She was always shy in +such circumstances and was always afraid of new people, she had been as +a child and was even more so now.... Pyotr Petrovitch met her “politely +and affably,” but with a certain shade of bantering familiarity which in +his opinion was suitable for a man of his respectability and weight +in dealing with a creature so young and so _interesting_ as she. He +hastened to “reassure” her and made her sit down facing him at the +table. Sonia sat down, looked about her--at Lebeziatnikov, at the notes +lying on the table and then again at Pyotr Petrovitch and her eyes +remained riveted on him. Lebeziatnikov was moving to the door. Pyotr +Petrovitch signed to Sonia to remain seated and stopped Lebeziatnikov. + +“Is Raskolnikov in there? Has he come?” he asked him in a whisper. + +“Raskolnikov? Yes. Why? Yes, he is there. I saw him just come in.... +Why?” + +“Well, I particularly beg you to remain here with us and not to leave +me alone with this... young woman. I only want a few words with her, +but God knows what they may make of it. I shouldn’t like Raskolnikov to +repeat anything.... You understand what I mean?” + +“I understand!” Lebeziatnikov saw the point. “Yes, you are right.... Of +course, I am convinced personally that you have no reason to be uneasy, +but... still, you are right. Certainly I’ll stay. I’ll stand here at the +window and not be in your way... I think you are right...” + +Pyotr Petrovitch returned to the sofa, sat down opposite Sonia, looked +attentively at her and assumed an extremely dignified, even severe +expression, as much as to say, “don’t you make any mistake, madam.” + Sonia was overwhelmed with embarrassment. + +“In the first place, Sofya Semyonovna, will you make my excuses to your +respected mamma.... That’s right, isn’t it? Katerina Ivanovna stands +in the place of a mother to you?” Pyotr Petrovitch began with great +dignity, though affably. + +It was evident that his intentions were friendly. + +“Quite so, yes; the place of a mother,” Sonia answered, timidly and +hurriedly. + +“Then will you make my apologies to her? Through inevitable +circumstances I am forced to be absent and shall not be at the dinner in +spite of your mamma’s kind invitation.” + +“Yes... I’ll tell her... at once.” + +And Sonia hastily jumped up from her seat. + +“Wait, that’s not all,” Pyotr Petrovitch detained her, smiling at her +simplicity and ignorance of good manners, “and you know me little, my +dear Sofya Semyonovna, if you suppose I would have ventured to trouble +a person like you for a matter of so little consequence affecting myself +only. I have another object.” + +Sonia sat down hurriedly. Her eyes rested again for an instant on the +grey-and-rainbow-coloured notes that remained on the table, but she +quickly looked away and fixed her eyes on Pyotr Petrovitch. She felt it +horribly indecorous, especially for _her_, to look at another person’s +money. She stared at the gold eye-glass which Pyotr Petrovitch held +in his left hand and at the massive and extremely handsome ring with a +yellow stone on his middle finger. But suddenly she looked away and, not +knowing where to turn, ended by staring Pyotr Petrovitch again straight +in the face. After a pause of still greater dignity he continued. + +“I chanced yesterday in passing to exchange a couple of words with +Katerina Ivanovna, poor woman. That was sufficient to enable me to +ascertain that she is in a position--preternatural, if one may so +express it.” + +“Yes... preternatural...” Sonia hurriedly assented. + +“Or it would be simpler and more comprehensible to say, ill.” + +“Yes, simpler and more comprehen... yes, ill.” + +“Quite so. So then from a feeling of humanity and so to speak +compassion, I should be glad to be of service to her in any way, +foreseeing her unfortunate position. I believe the whole of this +poverty-stricken family depends now entirely on you?” + +“Allow me to ask,” Sonia rose to her feet, “did you say something to her +yesterday of the possibility of a pension? Because she told me you had +undertaken to get her one. Was that true?” + +“Not in the slightest, and indeed it’s an absurdity! I merely hinted at +her obtaining temporary assistance as the widow of an official who had +died in the service--if only she has patronage... but apparently your +late parent had not served his full term and had not indeed been in the +service at all of late. In fact, if there could be any hope, it would be +very ephemeral, because there would be no claim for assistance in +that case, far from it.... And she is dreaming of a pension already, +he-he-he!... A go-ahead lady!” + +“Yes, she is. For she is credulous and good-hearted, and she believes +everything from the goodness of her heart and... and... and she is like +that... yes... You must excuse her,” said Sonia, and again she got up to +go. + +“But you haven’t heard what I have to say.” + +“No, I haven’t heard,” muttered Sonia. + +“Then sit down.” She was terribly confused; she sat down again a third +time. + +“Seeing her position with her unfortunate little ones, I should be glad, +as I have said before, so far as lies in my power, to be of service, +that is, so far as is in my power, not more. One might for instance get +up a subscription for her, or a lottery, something of the sort, such as +is always arranged in such cases by friends or even outsiders desirous +of assisting people. It was of that I intended to speak to you; it might +be done.” + +“Yes, yes... God will repay you for it,” faltered Sonia, gazing intently +at Pyotr Petrovitch. + +“It might be, but we will talk of it later. We might begin it to-day, we +will talk it over this evening and lay the foundation so to speak. Come +to me at seven o’clock. Mr. Lebeziatnikov, I hope, will assist us. But +there is one circumstance of which I ought to warn you beforehand and +for which I venture to trouble you, Sofya Semyonovna, to come here. In +my opinion money cannot be, indeed it’s unsafe to put it into Katerina +Ivanovna’s own hands. The dinner to-day is a proof of that. Though she +has not, so to speak, a crust of bread for to-morrow and... well, boots +or shoes, or anything; she has bought to-day Jamaica rum, and even, +I believe, Madeira and... and coffee. I saw it as I passed through. +To-morrow it will all fall upon you again, they won’t have a crust of +bread. It’s absurd, really, and so, to my thinking, a subscription ought +to be raised so that the unhappy widow should not know of the money, but +only you, for instance. Am I right?” + +“I don’t know... this is only to-day, once in her life.... She was +so anxious to do honour, to celebrate the memory.... And she is very +sensible... but just as you think and I shall be very, very... they will +all be... and God will reward... and the orphans...” + +Sonia burst into tears. + +“Very well, then, keep it in mind; and now will you accept for the +benefit of your relation the small sum that I am able to spare, from me +personally. I am very anxious that my name should not be mentioned in +connection with it. Here... having so to speak anxieties of my own, I +cannot do more...” + +And Pyotr Petrovitch held out to Sonia a ten-rouble note carefully +unfolded. Sonia took it, flushed crimson, jumped up, muttered something +and began taking leave. Pyotr Petrovitch accompanied her ceremoniously +to the door. She got out of the room at last, agitated and distressed, +and returned to Katerina Ivanovna, overwhelmed with confusion. + +All this time Lebeziatnikov had stood at the window or walked about the +room, anxious not to interrupt the conversation; when Sonia had gone he +walked up to Pyotr Petrovitch and solemnly held out his hand. + +“I heard and _saw_ everything,” he said, laying stress on the last verb. +“That is honourable, I mean to say, it’s humane! You wanted to avoid +gratitude, I saw! And although I cannot, I confess, in principle +sympathise with private charity, for it not only fails to eradicate the +evil but even promotes it, yet I must admit that I saw your action with +pleasure--yes, yes, I like it.” + +“That’s all nonsense,” muttered Pyotr Petrovitch, somewhat disconcerted, +looking carefully at Lebeziatnikov. + +“No, it’s not nonsense! A man who has suffered distress and annoyance as +you did yesterday and who yet can sympathise with the misery of others, +such a man... even though he is making a social mistake--is still +deserving of respect! I did not expect it indeed of you, Pyotr +Petrovitch, especially as according to your ideas... oh, what a drawback +your ideas are to you! How distressed you are for instance by your +ill-luck yesterday,” cried the simple-hearted Lebeziatnikov, who felt +a return of affection for Pyotr Petrovitch. “And, what do you want with +marriage, with _legal_ marriage, my dear, noble Pyotr Petrovitch? Why do +you cling to this _legality_ of marriage? Well, you may beat me if you +like, but I am glad, positively glad it hasn’t come off, that you are +free, that you are not quite lost for humanity.... you see, I’ve spoken +my mind!” + +“Because I don’t want in your free marriage to be made a fool of and +to bring up another man’s children, that’s why I want legal marriage,” + Luzhin replied in order to make some answer. + +He seemed preoccupied by something. + +“Children? You referred to children,” Lebeziatnikov started off like +a warhorse at the trumpet call. “Children are a social question and a +question of first importance, I agree; but the question of children has +another solution. Some refuse to have children altogether, because they +suggest the institution of the family. We’ll speak of children later, +but now as to the question of honour, I confess that’s my weak point. +That horrid, military, Pushkin expression is unthinkable in the +dictionary of the future. What does it mean indeed? It’s nonsense, +there will be no deception in a free marriage! That is only the natural +consequence of a legal marriage, so to say, its corrective, a protest. +So that indeed it’s not humiliating... and if I ever, to suppose an +absurdity, were to be legally married, I should be positively glad of +it. I should say to my wife: ‘My dear, hitherto I have loved you, now +I respect you, for you’ve shown you can protest!’ You laugh! That’s +because you are incapable of getting away from prejudices. Confound +it all! I understand now where the unpleasantness is of being deceived +in a legal marriage, but it’s simply a despicable consequence of a +despicable position in which both are humiliated. When the deception is +open, as in a free marriage, then it does not exist, it’s unthinkable. +Your wife will only prove how she respects you by considering you +incapable of opposing her happiness and avenging yourself on her for +her new husband. Damn it all! I sometimes dream if I were to be married, +pfoo! I mean if I were to marry, legally or not, it’s just the same, +I should present my wife with a lover if she had not found one for +herself. ‘My dear,’ I should say, ‘I love you, but even more than that I +desire you to respect me. See!’ Am I not right?” + +Pyotr Petrovitch sniggered as he listened, but without much merriment. +He hardly heard it indeed. He was preoccupied with something else and +even Lebeziatnikov at last noticed it. Pyotr Petrovitch seemed excited +and rubbed his hands. Lebeziatnikov remembered all this and reflected +upon it afterwards. + + + +CHAPTER II + +It would be difficult to explain exactly what could have originated the +idea of that senseless dinner in Katerina Ivanovna’s disordered brain. +Nearly ten of the twenty roubles, given by Raskolnikov for Marmeladov’s +funeral, were wasted upon it. Possibly Katerina Ivanovna felt obliged to +honour the memory of the deceased “suitably,” that all the lodgers, +and still more Amalia Ivanovna, might know “that he was in no way their +inferior, and perhaps very much their superior,” and that no one had the +right “to turn up his nose at him.” Perhaps the chief element was that +peculiar “poor man’s pride,” which compels many poor people to spend +their last savings on some traditional social ceremony, simply in order +to do “like other people,” and not to “be looked down upon.” It is very +probable, too, that Katerina Ivanovna longed on this occasion, at +the moment when she seemed to be abandoned by everyone, to show those +“wretched contemptible lodgers” that she knew “how to do things, how +to entertain” and that she had been brought up “in a genteel, she might +almost say aristocratic colonel’s family” and had not been meant for +sweeping floors and washing the children’s rags at night. Even the +poorest and most broken-spirited people are sometimes liable to these +paroxysms of pride and vanity which take the form of an irresistible +nervous craving. And Katerina Ivanovna was not broken-spirited; she +might have been killed by circumstance, but her spirit could not have +been broken, that is, she could not have been intimidated, her will +could not be crushed. Moreover Sonia had said with good reason that her +mind was unhinged. She could not be said to be insane, but for a year +past she had been so harassed that her mind might well be overstrained. +The later stages of consumption are apt, doctors tell us, to affect the +intellect. + +There was no great variety of wines, nor was there Madeira; but wine +there was. There was vodka, rum and Lisbon wine, all of the poorest +quality but in sufficient quantity. Besides the traditional rice and +honey, there were three or four dishes, one of which consisted of +pancakes, all prepared in Amalia Ivanovna’s kitchen. Two samovars were +boiling, that tea and punch might be offered after dinner. Katerina +Ivanovna had herself seen to purchasing the provisions, with the help +of one of the lodgers, an unfortunate little Pole who had somehow been +stranded at Madame Lippevechsel’s. He promptly put himself at Katerina +Ivanovna’s disposal and had been all that morning and all the day before +running about as fast as his legs could carry him, and very anxious +that everyone should be aware of it. For every trifle he ran to Katerina +Ivanovna, even hunting her out at the bazaar, at every instant called +her “_Pani_.” She was heartily sick of him before the end, though +she had declared at first that she could not have got on without this +“serviceable and magnanimous man.” It was one of Katerina Ivanovna’s +characteristics to paint everyone she met in the most glowing colours. +Her praises were so exaggerated as sometimes to be embarrassing; she +would invent various circumstances to the credit of her new acquaintance +and quite genuinely believe in their reality. Then all of a sudden she +would be disillusioned and would rudely and contemptuously repulse the +person she had only a few hours before been literally adoring. She +was naturally of a gay, lively and peace-loving disposition, but from +continual failures and misfortunes she had come to desire so _keenly_ +that all should live in peace and joy and should not _dare_ to break the +peace, that the slightest jar, the smallest disaster reduced her almost +to frenzy, and she would pass in an instant from the brightest hopes and +fancies to cursing her fate and raving, and knocking her head against +the wall. + +Amalia Ivanovna, too, suddenly acquired extraordinary importance in +Katerina Ivanovna’s eyes and was treated by her with extraordinary +respect, probably only because Amalia Ivanovna had thrown herself heart +and soul into the preparations. She had undertaken to lay the table, +to provide the linen, crockery, etc., and to cook the dishes in her +kitchen, and Katerina Ivanovna had left it all in her hands and gone +herself to the cemetery. Everything had been well done. Even the +table-cloth was nearly clean; the crockery, knives, forks and glasses +were, of course, of all shapes and patterns, lent by different lodgers, +but the table was properly laid at the time fixed, and Amalia Ivanovna, +feeling she had done her work well, had put on a black silk dress and +a cap with new mourning ribbons and met the returning party with some +pride. This pride, though justifiable, displeased Katerina Ivanovna for +some reason: “as though the table could not have been laid except by +Amalia Ivanovna!” She disliked the cap with new ribbons, too. “Could she +be stuck up, the stupid German, because she was mistress of the house, +and had consented as a favour to help her poor lodgers! As a favour! +Fancy that! Katerina Ivanovna’s father who had been a colonel and almost +a governor had sometimes had the table set for forty persons, and then +anyone like Amalia Ivanovna, or rather Ludwigovna, would not have been +allowed into the kitchen.” + +Katerina Ivanovna, however, put off expressing her feelings for the +time and contented herself with treating her coldly, though she decided +inwardly that she would certainly have to put Amalia Ivanovna down +and set her in her proper place, for goodness only knew what she was +fancying herself. Katerina Ivanovna was irritated too by the fact that +hardly any of the lodgers invited had come to the funeral, except +the Pole who had just managed to run into the cemetery, while to the +memorial dinner the poorest and most insignificant of them had turned +up, the wretched creatures, many of them not quite sober. The older +and more respectable of them all, as if by common consent, stayed away. +Pyotr Petrovitch Luzhin, for instance, who might be said to be the most +respectable of all the lodgers, did not appear, though Katerina Ivanovna +had the evening before told all the world, that is Amalia Ivanovna, +Polenka, Sonia and the Pole, that he was the most generous, +noble-hearted man with a large property and vast connections, who had +been a friend of her first husband’s, and a guest in her father’s +house, and that he had promised to use all his influence to secure her +a considerable pension. It must be noted that when Katerina Ivanovna +exalted anyone’s connections and fortune, it was without any ulterior +motive, quite disinterestedly, for the mere pleasure of adding to +the consequence of the person praised. Probably “taking his cue” from +Luzhin, “that contemptible wretch Lebeziatnikov had not turned up +either. What did he fancy himself? He was only asked out of kindness +and because he was sharing the same room with Pyotr Petrovitch and was a +friend of his, so that it would have been awkward not to invite him.” + +Among those who failed to appear were “the genteel lady and her +old-maidish daughter,” who had only been lodgers in the house for the +last fortnight, but had several times complained of the noise and uproar +in Katerina Ivanovna’s room, especially when Marmeladov had come +back drunk. Katerina Ivanovna heard this from Amalia Ivanovna who, +quarrelling with Katerina Ivanovna, and threatening to turn the whole +family out of doors, had shouted at her that they “were not worth the +foot” of the honourable lodgers whom they were disturbing. Katerina +Ivanovna determined now to invite this lady and her daughter, “whose +foot she was not worth,” and who had turned away haughtily when she +casually met them, so that they might know that “she was more noble in +her thoughts and feelings and did not harbour malice,” and might see +that she was not accustomed to her way of living. She had proposed to +make this clear to them at dinner with allusions to her late father’s +governorship, and also at the same time to hint that it was exceedingly +stupid of them to turn away on meeting her. The fat colonel-major (he +was really a discharged officer of low rank) was also absent, but it +appeared that he had been “not himself” for the last two days. The party +consisted of the Pole, a wretched looking clerk with a spotty face and +a greasy coat, who had not a word to say for himself, and smelt +abominably, a deaf and almost blind old man who had once been in the +post office and who had been from immemorial ages maintained by someone +at Amalia Ivanovna’s. + +A retired clerk of the commissariat department came, too; he was +drunk, had a loud and most unseemly laugh and only fancy--was without +a waistcoat! One of the visitors sat straight down to the table without +even greeting Katerina Ivanovna. Finally one person having no suit +appeared in his dressing-gown, but this was too much, and the efforts of +Amalia Ivanovna and the Pole succeeded in removing him. The Pole brought +with him, however, two other Poles who did not live at Amalia Ivanovna’s +and whom no one had seen here before. All this irritated Katerina +Ivanovna intensely. “For whom had they made all these preparations +then?” To make room for the visitors the children had not even been laid +for at the table; but the two little ones were sitting on a bench in the +furthest corner with their dinner laid on a box, while Polenka as a big +girl had to look after them, feed them, and keep their noses wiped like +well-bred children’s. + +Katerina Ivanovna, in fact, could hardly help meeting her guests with +increased dignity, and even haughtiness. She stared at some of them with +special severity, and loftily invited them to take their seats. Rushing +to the conclusion that Amalia Ivanovna must be responsible for those who +were absent, she began treating her with extreme nonchalance, which the +latter promptly observed and resented. Such a beginning was no good omen +for the end. All were seated at last. + +Raskolnikov came in almost at the moment of their return from the +cemetery. Katerina Ivanovna was greatly delighted to see him, in the +first place, because he was the one “educated visitor, and, as everyone +knew, was in two years to take a professorship in the university,” and +secondly because he immediately and respectfully apologised for having +been unable to be at the funeral. She positively pounced upon him, and +made him sit on her left hand (Amalia Ivanovna was on her right). In +spite of her continual anxiety that the dishes should be passed round +correctly and that everyone should taste them, in spite of the agonising +cough which interrupted her every minute and seemed to have grown worse +during the last few days, she hastened to pour out in a half whisper to +Raskolnikov all her suppressed feelings and her just indignation at +the failure of the dinner, interspersing her remarks with lively and +uncontrollable laughter at the expense of her visitors and especially of +her landlady. + +“It’s all that cuckoo’s fault! You know whom I mean? Her, her!” Katerina +Ivanovna nodded towards the landlady. “Look at her, she’s making round +eyes, she feels that we are talking about her and can’t understand. +Pfoo, the owl! Ha-ha! (Cough-cough-cough.) And what does she put on that +cap for? (Cough-cough-cough.) Have you noticed that she wants everyone +to consider that she is patronising me and doing me an honour by being +here? I asked her like a sensible woman to invite people, especially +those who knew my late husband, and look at the set of fools she has +brought! The sweeps! Look at that one with the spotty face. And those +wretched Poles, ha-ha-ha! (Cough-cough-cough.) Not one of them has ever +poked his nose in here, I’ve never set eyes on them. What have they come +here for, I ask you? There they sit in a row. Hey, _pan_!” she cried +suddenly to one of them, “have you tasted the pancakes? Take some more! +Have some beer! Won’t you have some vodka? Look, he’s jumped up and is +making his bows, they must be quite starved, poor things. Never mind, +let them eat! They don’t make a noise, anyway, though I’m really afraid +for our landlady’s silver spoons... Amalia Ivanovna!” she addressed her +suddenly, almost aloud, “if your spoons should happen to be stolen, +I won’t be responsible, I warn you! Ha-ha-ha!” She laughed turning to +Raskolnikov, and again nodding towards the landlady, in high glee at her +sally. “She didn’t understand, she didn’t understand again! Look how +she sits with her mouth open! An owl, a real owl! An owl in new ribbons, +ha-ha-ha!” + +Here her laugh turned again to an insufferable fit of coughing that +lasted five minutes. Drops of perspiration stood out on her forehead +and her handkerchief was stained with blood. She showed Raskolnikov +the blood in silence, and as soon as she could get her breath began +whispering to him again with extreme animation and a hectic flush on her +cheeks. + +“Do you know, I gave her the most delicate instructions, so to speak, +for inviting that lady and her daughter, you understand of whom I am +speaking? It needed the utmost delicacy, the greatest nicety, but she +has managed things so that that fool, that conceited baggage, that +provincial nonentity, simply because she is the widow of a major, and +has come to try and get a pension and to fray out her skirts in the +government offices, because at fifty she paints her face (everybody +knows it)... a creature like that did not think fit to come, and has +not even answered the invitation, which the most ordinary good manners +required! I can’t understand why Pyotr Petrovitch has not come? But +where’s Sonia? Where has she gone? Ah, there she is at last! what is it, +Sonia, where have you been? It’s odd that even at your father’s funeral +you should be so unpunctual. Rodion Romanovitch, make room for her +beside you. That’s your place, Sonia... take what you like. Have some of +the cold entrée with jelly, that’s the best. They’ll bring the pancakes +directly. Have they given the children some? Polenka, have you got +everything? (Cough-cough-cough.) That’s all right. Be a good girl, Lida, +and, Kolya, don’t fidget with your feet; sit like a little gentleman. +What are you saying, Sonia?” + +Sonia hastened to give her Pyotr Petrovitch’s apologies, trying to +speak loud enough for everyone to hear and carefully choosing the most +respectful phrases which she attributed to Pyotr Petrovitch. She added +that Pyotr Petrovitch had particularly told her to say that, as soon as +he possibly could, he would come immediately to discuss _business_ alone +with her and to consider what could be done for her, etc., etc. + +Sonia knew that this would comfort Katerina Ivanovna, would flatter her +and gratify her pride. She sat down beside Raskolnikov; she made him a +hurried bow, glancing curiously at him. But for the rest of the time +she seemed to avoid looking at him or speaking to him. She seemed +absent-minded, though she kept looking at Katerina Ivanovna, trying +to please her. Neither she nor Katerina Ivanovna had been able to get +mourning; Sonia was wearing dark brown, and Katerina Ivanovna had on her +only dress, a dark striped cotton one. + +The message from Pyotr Petrovitch was very successful. Listening to +Sonia with dignity, Katerina Ivanovna inquired with equal dignity how +Pyotr Petrovitch was, then at once whispered almost aloud to +Raskolnikov that it certainly would have been strange for a man of +Pyotr Petrovitch’s position and standing to find himself in such +“extraordinary company,” in spite of his devotion to her family and his +old friendship with her father. + +“That’s why I am so grateful to you, Rodion Romanovitch, that you have +not disdained my hospitality, even in such surroundings,” she added +almost aloud. “But I am sure that it was only your special affection for +my poor husband that has made you keep your promise.” + +Then once more with pride and dignity she scanned her visitors, and +suddenly inquired aloud across the table of the deaf man: “Wouldn’t he +have some more meat, and had he been given some wine?” The old man made +no answer and for a long while could not understand what he was asked, +though his neighbours amused themselves by poking and shaking him. He +simply gazed about him with his mouth open, which only increased the +general mirth. + +“What an imbecile! Look, look! Why was he brought? But as to Pyotr +Petrovitch, I always had confidence in him,” Katerina Ivanovna +continued, “and, of course, he is not like...” with an extremely stern +face she addressed Amalia Ivanovna so sharply and loudly that the latter +was quite disconcerted, “not like your dressed up draggletails whom +my father would not have taken as cooks into his kitchen, and my late +husband would have done them honour if he had invited them in the +goodness of his heart.” + +“Yes, he was fond of drink, he was fond of it, he did drink!” cried the +commissariat clerk, gulping down his twelfth glass of vodka. + +“My late husband certainly had that weakness, and everyone knows +it,” Katerina Ivanovna attacked him at once, “but he was a kind and +honourable man, who loved and respected his family. The worst of it was +his good nature made him trust all sorts of disreputable people, and he +drank with fellows who were not worth the sole of his shoe. Would you +believe it, Rodion Romanovitch, they found a gingerbread cock in his +pocket; he was dead drunk, but he did not forget the children!” + +“A cock? Did you say a cock?” shouted the commissariat clerk. + +Katerina Ivanovna did not vouchsafe a reply. She sighed, lost in +thought. + +“No doubt you think, like everyone, that I was too severe with him,” she +went on, addressing Raskolnikov. “But that’s not so! He respected me, he +respected me very much! He was a kind-hearted man! And how sorry I was +for him sometimes! He would sit in a corner and look at me, I used to +feel so sorry for him, I used to want to be kind to him and then would +think to myself: ‘Be kind to him and he will drink again,’ it was only +by severity that you could keep him within bounds.” + +“Yes, he used to get his hair pulled pretty often,” roared the +commissariat clerk again, swallowing another glass of vodka. + +“Some fools would be the better for a good drubbing, as well as having +their hair pulled. I am not talking of my late husband now!” Katerina +Ivanovna snapped at him. + +The flush on her cheeks grew more and more marked, her chest heaved. In +another minute she would have been ready to make a scene. Many of the +visitors were sniggering, evidently delighted. They began poking the +commissariat clerk and whispering something to him. They were evidently +trying to egg him on. + +“Allow me to ask what are you alluding to,” began the clerk, “that is +to say, whose... about whom... did you say just now... But I don’t care! +That’s nonsense! Widow! I forgive you.... Pass!” + +And he took another drink of vodka. + +Raskolnikov sat in silence, listening with disgust. He only ate from +politeness, just tasting the food that Katerina Ivanovna was continually +putting on his plate, to avoid hurting her feelings. He watched Sonia +intently. But Sonia became more and more anxious and distressed; she, +too, foresaw that the dinner would not end peaceably, and saw with +terror Katerina Ivanovna’s growing irritation. She knew that she, Sonia, +was the chief reason for the ‘genteel’ ladies’ contemptuous treatment of +Katerina Ivanovna’s invitation. She had heard from Amalia Ivanovna that +the mother was positively offended at the invitation and had asked the +question: “How could she let her daughter sit down beside _that young +person_?” Sonia had a feeling that Katerina Ivanovna had already heard +this and an insult to Sonia meant more to Katerina Ivanovna than an +insult to herself, her children, or her father, Sonia knew that +Katerina Ivanovna would not be satisfied now, “till she had shown those +draggletails that they were both...” To make matters worse someone +passed Sonia, from the other end of the table, a plate with two hearts +pierced with an arrow, cut out of black bread. Katerina Ivanovna flushed +crimson and at once said aloud across the table that the man who sent it +was “a drunken ass!” + +Amalia Ivanovna was foreseeing something amiss, and at the same time +deeply wounded by Katerina Ivanovna’s haughtiness, and to restore the +good-humour of the company and raise herself in their esteem she began, +apropos of nothing, telling a story about an acquaintance of hers “Karl +from the chemist’s,” who was driving one night in a cab, and that “the +cabman wanted him to kill, and Karl very much begged him not to kill, +and wept and clasped hands, and frightened and from fear pierced his +heart.” Though Katerina Ivanovna smiled, she observed at once that +Amalia Ivanovna ought not to tell anecdotes in Russian; the latter was +still more offended, and she retorted that her “_Vater aus Berlin_ was a +very important man, and always went with his hands in pockets.” Katerina +Ivanovna could not restrain herself and laughed so much that Amalia +Ivanovna lost patience and could scarcely control herself. + +“Listen to the owl!” Katerina Ivanovna whispered at once, her +good-humour almost restored, “she meant to say he kept his hands in +his pockets, but she said he put his hands in people’s pockets. +(Cough-cough.) And have you noticed, Rodion Romanovitch, that all these +Petersburg foreigners, the Germans especially, are all stupider than +we! Can you fancy anyone of us telling how ‘Karl from the chemist’s’ +‘pierced his heart from fear’ and that the idiot, instead of punishing +the cabman, ‘clasped his hands and wept, and much begged.’ Ah, the fool! +And you know she fancies it’s very touching and does not suspect how +stupid she is! To my thinking that drunken commissariat clerk is a great +deal cleverer, anyway one can see that he has addled his brains with +drink, but you know, these foreigners are always so well behaved +and serious.... Look how she sits glaring! She is angry, ha-ha! +(Cough-cough-cough.)” + +Regaining her good-humour, Katerina Ivanovna began at once telling +Raskolnikov that when she had obtained her pension, she intended to open +a school for the daughters of gentlemen in her native town T----. +This was the first time she had spoken to him of the project, and she +launched out into the most alluring details. It suddenly appeared that +Katerina Ivanovna had in her hands the very certificate of honour of +which Marmeladov had spoken to Raskolnikov in the tavern, when he told +him that Katerina Ivanovna, his wife, had danced the shawl dance +before the governor and other great personages on leaving school. This +certificate of honour was obviously intended now to prove Katerina +Ivanovna’s right to open a boarding-school; but she had armed herself +with it chiefly with the object of overwhelming “those two stuck-up +draggletails” if they came to the dinner, and proving incontestably +that Katerina Ivanovna was of the most noble, “she might even say +aristocratic family, a colonel’s daughter and was far superior to +certain adventuresses who have been so much to the fore of late.” The +certificate of honour immediately passed into the hands of the drunken +guests, and Katerina Ivanovna did not try to retain it, for it actually +contained the statement _en toutes lettres_, that her father was of the +rank of a major, and also a companion of an order, so that she really +was almost the daughter of a colonel. + +Warming up, Katerina Ivanovna proceeded to enlarge on the peaceful and +happy life they would lead in T----, on the gymnasium teachers whom +she would engage to give lessons in her boarding-school, one a most +respectable old Frenchman, one Mangot, who had taught Katerina Ivanovna +herself in old days and was still living in T----, and would no doubt +teach in her school on moderate terms. Next she spoke of Sonia who would +go with her to T---- and help her in all her plans. At this someone at +the further end of the table gave a sudden guffaw. + +Though Katerina Ivanovna tried to appear to be disdainfully unaware of +it, she raised her voice and began at once speaking with conviction of +Sonia’s undoubted ability to assist her, of “her gentleness, patience, +devotion, generosity and good education,” tapping Sonia on the cheek and +kissing her warmly twice. Sonia flushed crimson, and Katerina Ivanovna +suddenly burst into tears, immediately observing that she was “nervous +and silly, that she was too much upset, that it was time to finish, and +as the dinner was over, it was time to hand round the tea.” + +At that moment, Amalia Ivanovna, deeply aggrieved at taking no part in +the conversation, and not being listened to, made one last effort, +and with secret misgivings ventured on an exceedingly deep and weighty +observation, that “in the future boarding-school she would have to pay +particular attention to _die Wäsche_, and that there certainly must be a +good _dame_ to look after the linen, and secondly that the young ladies +must not novels at night read.” + +Katerina Ivanovna, who certainly was upset and very tired, as well as +heartily sick of the dinner, at once cut short Amalia Ivanovna, saying +“she knew nothing about it and was talking nonsense, that it was the +business of the laundry maid, and not of the directress of a high-class +boarding-school to look after _die Wäsche_, and as for novel-reading, +that was simply rudeness, and she begged her to be silent.” Amalia +Ivanovna fired up and getting angry observed that she only “meant her +good,” and that “she had meant her very good,” and that “it was long +since she had paid her _gold_ for the lodgings.” + +Katerina Ivanovna at once “set her down,” saying that it was a lie to +say she wished her good, because only yesterday when her dead husband +was lying on the table, she had worried her about the lodgings. To this +Amalia Ivanovna very appropriately observed that she had invited those +ladies, but “those ladies had not come, because those ladies _are_ +ladies and cannot come to a lady who is not a lady.” Katerina Ivanovna +at once pointed out to her, that as she was a slut she could not judge +what made one really a lady. Amalia Ivanovna at once declared that her +“_Vater aus Berlin_ was a very, very important man, and both hands in +pockets went, and always used to say: ‘Poof! poof!’” and she leapt +up from the table to represent her father, sticking her hands in her +pockets, puffing her cheeks, and uttering vague sounds resembling “poof! +poof!” amid loud laughter from all the lodgers, who purposely encouraged +Amalia Ivanovna, hoping for a fight. + +But this was too much for Katerina Ivanovna, and she at once declared, +so that all could hear, that Amalia Ivanovna probably never had a +father, but was simply a drunken Petersburg Finn, and had certainly once +been a cook and probably something worse. Amalia Ivanovna turned as red +as a lobster and squealed that perhaps Katerina Ivanovna never had a +father, “but she had a _Vater aus Berlin_ and that he wore a long coat +and always said poof-poof-poof!” + +Katerina Ivanovna observed contemptuously that all knew what her family +was and that on that very certificate of honour it was stated in print +that her father was a colonel, while Amalia Ivanovna’s father--if she +really had one--was probably some Finnish milkman, but that probably she +never had a father at all, since it was still uncertain whether her name +was Amalia Ivanovna or Amalia Ludwigovna. + +At this Amalia Ivanovna, lashed to fury, struck the table with her fist, +and shrieked that she was Amalia Ivanovna, and not Ludwigovna, “that +her _Vater_ was named Johann and that he was a burgomeister, and that +Katerina Ivanovna’s _Vater_ was quite never a burgomeister.” Katerina +Ivanovna rose from her chair, and with a stern and apparently calm voice +(though she was pale and her chest was heaving) observed that “if she +dared for one moment to set her contemptible wretch of a father on a +level with her papa, she, Katerina Ivanovna, would tear her cap off her +head and trample it under foot.” Amalia Ivanovna ran about the room, +shouting at the top of her voice, that she was mistress of the house and +that Katerina Ivanovna should leave the lodgings that minute; then she +rushed for some reason to collect the silver spoons from the table. +There was a great outcry and uproar, the children began crying. Sonia +ran to restrain Katerina Ivanovna, but when Amalia Ivanovna shouted +something about “the yellow ticket,” Katerina Ivanovna pushed Sonia +away, and rushed at the landlady to carry out her threat. + +At that minute the door opened, and Pyotr Petrovitch Luzhin appeared +on the threshold. He stood scanning the party with severe and vigilant +eyes. Katerina Ivanovna rushed to him. + + + +CHAPTER III + +“Pyotr Petrovitch,” she cried, “protect me... you at least! Make this +foolish woman understand that she can’t behave like this to a lady in +misfortune... that there is a law for such things.... I’ll go to the +governor-general himself.... She shall answer for it.... Remembering my +father’s hospitality protect these orphans.” + +“Allow me, madam.... Allow me.” Pyotr Petrovitch waved her off. “Your +papa as you are well aware I had not the honour of knowing” (someone +laughed aloud) “and I do not intend to take part in your everlasting +squabbles with Amalia Ivanovna.... I have come here to speak of my own +affairs... and I want to have a word with your stepdaughter, Sofya... +Ivanovna, I think it is? Allow me to pass.” + +Pyotr Petrovitch, edging by her, went to the opposite corner where Sonia +was. + +Katerina Ivanovna remained standing where she was, as though +thunderstruck. She could not understand how Pyotr Petrovitch could deny +having enjoyed her father’s hospitality. Though she had invented it +herself, she believed in it firmly by this time. She was struck too +by the businesslike, dry and even contemptuous menacing tone of Pyotr +Petrovitch. All the clamour gradually died away at his entrance. Not +only was this “serious business man” strikingly incongruous with the +rest of the party, but it was evident, too, that he had come upon some +matter of consequence, that some exceptional cause must have brought him +and that therefore something was going to happen. Raskolnikov, standing +beside Sonia, moved aside to let him pass; Pyotr Petrovitch did not +seem to notice him. A minute later Lebeziatnikov, too, appeared in the +doorway; he did not come in, but stood still, listening with marked +interest, almost wonder, and seemed for a time perplexed. + +“Excuse me for possibly interrupting you, but it’s a matter of +some importance,” Pyotr Petrovitch observed, addressing the company +generally. “I am glad indeed to find other persons present. Amalia +Ivanovna, I humbly beg you as mistress of the house to pay careful +attention to what I have to say to Sofya Ivanovna. Sofya Ivanovna,” + he went on, addressing Sonia, who was very much surprised and already +alarmed, “immediately after your visit I found that a hundred-rouble +note was missing from my table, in the room of my friend Mr. +Lebeziatnikov. If in any way whatever you know and will tell us where +it is now, I assure you on my word of honour and call all present to +witness that the matter shall end there. In the opposite case I shall be +compelled to have recourse to very serious measures and then... you must +blame yourself.” + +Complete silence reigned in the room. Even the crying children were +still. Sonia stood deadly pale, staring at Luzhin and unable to say a +word. She seemed not to understand. Some seconds passed. + +“Well, how is it to be then?” asked Luzhin, looking intently at her. + +“I don’t know.... I know nothing about it,” Sonia articulated faintly at +last. + +“No, you know nothing?” Luzhin repeated and again he paused for some +seconds. “Think a moment, mademoiselle,” he began severely, but still, +as it were, admonishing her. “Reflect, I am prepared to give you time +for consideration. Kindly observe this: if I were not so entirely +convinced I should not, you may be sure, with my experience venture to +accuse you so directly. Seeing that for such direct accusation before +witnesses, if false or even mistaken, I should myself in a certain sense +be made responsible, I am aware of that. This morning I changed for +my own purposes several five-per-cent securities for the sum of +approximately three thousand roubles. The account is noted down in my +pocket-book. On my return home I proceeded to count the money--as Mr. +Lebeziatnikov will bear witness--and after counting two thousand three +hundred roubles I put the rest in my pocket-book in my coat pocket. +About five hundred roubles remained on the table and among them three +notes of a hundred roubles each. At that moment you entered (at my +invitation)--and all the time you were present you were exceedingly +embarrassed; so that three times you jumped up in the middle of the +conversation and tried to make off. Mr. Lebeziatnikov can bear witness +to this. You yourself, mademoiselle, probably will not refuse to confirm +my statement that I invited you through Mr. Lebeziatnikov, solely in +order to discuss with you the hopeless and destitute position of your +relative, Katerina Ivanovna (whose dinner I was unable to attend), +and the advisability of getting up something of the nature of a +subscription, lottery or the like, for her benefit. You thanked me and +even shed tears. I describe all this as it took place, primarily to +recall it to your mind and secondly to show you that not the slightest +detail has escaped my recollection. Then I took a ten-rouble note from +the table and handed it to you by way of first instalment on my part +for the benefit of your relative. Mr. Lebeziatnikov saw all this. Then +I accompanied you to the door--you being still in the same state of +embarrassment--after which, being left alone with Mr. Lebeziatnikov I +talked to him for ten minutes--then Mr. Lebeziatnikov went out and I +returned to the table with the money lying on it, intending to count +it and to put it aside, as I proposed doing before. To my surprise one +hundred-rouble note had disappeared. Kindly consider the position. +Mr. Lebeziatnikov I cannot suspect. I am ashamed to allude to such +a supposition. I cannot have made a mistake in my reckoning, for the +minute before your entrance I had finished my accounts and found the +total correct. You will admit that recollecting your embarrassment, your +eagerness to get away and the fact that you kept your hands for some +time on the table, and taking into consideration your social position +and the habits associated with it, I was, so to say, with horror and +positively against my will, _compelled_ to entertain a suspicion--a +cruel, but justifiable suspicion! I will add further and repeat that in +spite of my positive conviction, I realise that I run a certain risk in +making this accusation, but as you see, I could not let it pass. I have +taken action and I will tell you why: solely, madam, solely, owing +to your black ingratitude! Why! I invite you for the benefit of your +destitute relative, I present you with my donation of ten roubles and +you, on the spot, repay me for all that with such an action. It is too +bad! You need a lesson. Reflect! Moreover, like a true friend I beg +you--and you could have no better friend at this moment--think what you +are doing, otherwise I shall be immovable! Well, what do you say?” + +“I have taken nothing,” Sonia whispered in terror, “you gave me ten +roubles, here it is, take it.” + +Sonia pulled her handkerchief out of her pocket, untied a corner of it, +took out the ten-rouble note and gave it to Luzhin. + +“And the hundred roubles you do not confess to taking?” he insisted +reproachfully, not taking the note. + +Sonia looked about her. All were looking at her with such awful, stern, +ironical, hostile eyes. She looked at Raskolnikov... he stood against +the wall, with his arms crossed, looking at her with glowing eyes. + +“Good God!” broke from Sonia. + +“Amalia Ivanovna, we shall have to send word to the police and therefore +I humbly beg you meanwhile to send for the house porter,” Luzhin said +softly and even kindly. + +“_Gott der Barmherzige_! I knew she was the thief,” cried Amalia +Ivanovna, throwing up her hands. + +“You knew it?” Luzhin caught her up, “then I suppose you had some reason +before this for thinking so. I beg you, worthy Amalia Ivanovna, to +remember your words which have been uttered before witnesses.” + +There was a buzz of loud conversation on all sides. All were in +movement. + +“What!” cried Katerina Ivanovna, suddenly realising the position, and +she rushed at Luzhin. “What! You accuse her of stealing? Sonia? Ah, the +wretches, the wretches!” + +And running to Sonia she flung her wasted arms round her and held her as +in a vise. + +“Sonia! how dared you take ten roubles from him? Foolish girl! Give it +to me! Give me the ten roubles at once--here!” + +And snatching the note from Sonia, Katerina Ivanovna crumpled it up and +flung it straight into Luzhin’s face. It hit him in the eye and fell +on the ground. Amalia Ivanovna hastened to pick it up. Pyotr Petrovitch +lost his temper. + +“Hold that mad woman!” he shouted. + +At that moment several other persons, besides Lebeziatnikov, appeared in +the doorway, among them the two ladies. + +“What! Mad? Am I mad? Idiot!” shrieked Katerina Ivanovna. “You are an +idiot yourself, pettifogging lawyer, base man! Sonia, Sonia take his +money! Sonia a thief! Why, she’d give away her last penny!” and Katerina +Ivanovna broke into hysterical laughter. “Did you ever see such an +idiot?” she turned from side to side. “And you too?” she suddenly saw +the landlady, “and you too, sausage eater, you declare that she is a +thief, you trashy Prussian hen’s leg in a crinoline! She hasn’t been +out of this room: she came straight from you, you wretch, and sat down +beside me, everyone saw her. She sat here, by Rodion Romanovitch. Search +her! Since she’s not left the room, the money would have to be on her! +Search her, search her! But if you don’t find it, then excuse me, my +dear fellow, you’ll answer for it! I’ll go to our Sovereign, to our +Sovereign, to our gracious Tsar himself, and throw myself at his feet, +to-day, this minute! I am alone in the world! They would let me in! Do +you think they wouldn’t? You’re wrong, I will get in! I will get in! +You reckoned on her meekness! You relied upon that! But I am not so +submissive, let me tell you! You’ve gone too far yourself. Search her, +search her!” + +And Katerina Ivanovna in a frenzy shook Luzhin and dragged him towards +Sonia. + +“I am ready, I’ll be responsible... but calm yourself, madam, calm +yourself. I see that you are not so submissive!... Well, well, but as to +that...” Luzhin muttered, “that ought to be before the police... though +indeed there are witnesses enough as it is.... I am ready.... But in +any case it’s difficult for a man... on account of her sex.... But with +the help of Amalia Ivanovna... though, of course, it’s not the way to do +things.... How is it to be done?” + +“As you will! Let anyone who likes search her!” cried Katerina Ivanovna. +“Sonia, turn out your pockets! See! Look, monster, the pocket is empty, +here was her handkerchief! Here is the other pocket, look! D’you see, +d’you see?” + +And Katerina Ivanovna turned--or rather snatched--both pockets inside +out. But from the right pocket a piece of paper flew out and describing +a parabola in the air fell at Luzhin’s feet. Everyone saw it, several +cried out. Pyotr Petrovitch stooped down, picked up the paper in two +fingers, lifted it where all could see it and opened it. It was a +hundred-rouble note folded in eight. Pyotr Petrovitch held up the note +showing it to everyone. + +“Thief! Out of my lodging. Police, police!” yelled Amalia Ivanovna. +“They must to Siberia be sent! Away!” + +Exclamations arose on all sides. Raskolnikov was silent, keeping his +eyes fixed on Sonia, except for an occasional rapid glance at Luzhin. +Sonia stood still, as though unconscious. She was hardly able to feel +surprise. Suddenly the colour rushed to her cheeks; she uttered a cry +and hid her face in her hands. + +“No, it wasn’t I! I didn’t take it! I know nothing about it,” she cried +with a heartrending wail, and she ran to Katerina Ivanovna, who clasped +her tightly in her arms, as though she would shelter her from all the +world. + +“Sonia! Sonia! I don’t believe it! You see, I don’t believe it!” she +cried in the face of the obvious fact, swaying her to and fro in her +arms like a baby, kissing her face continually, then snatching at her +hands and kissing them, too, “you took it! How stupid these people are! +Oh dear! You are fools, fools,” she cried, addressing the whole room, +“you don’t know, you don’t know what a heart she has, what a girl she +is! She take it, she? She’d sell her last rag, she’d go barefoot to help +you if you needed it, that’s what she is! She has the yellow passport +because my children were starving, she sold herself for us! Ah, husband, +husband! Do you see? Do you see? What a memorial dinner for you! +Merciful heavens! Defend her, why are you all standing still? Rodion +Romanovitch, why don’t you stand up for her? Do you believe it, too? You +are not worth her little finger, all of you together! Good God! Defend +her now, at least!” + +The wail of the poor, consumptive, helpless woman seemed to produce a +great effect on her audience. The agonised, wasted, consumptive face, +the parched blood-stained lips, the hoarse voice, the tears unrestrained +as a child’s, the trustful, childish and yet despairing prayer for help +were so piteous that everyone seemed to feel for her. Pyotr Petrovitch +at any rate was at once moved to _compassion_. + +“Madam, madam, this incident does not reflect upon you!” he cried +impressively, “no one would take upon himself to accuse you of being an +instigator or even an accomplice in it, especially as you have proved +her guilt by turning out her pockets, showing that you had no previous +idea of it. I am most ready, most ready to show compassion, if poverty, +so to speak, drove Sofya Semyonovna to it, but why did you refuse to +confess, mademoiselle? Were you afraid of the disgrace? The first step? +You lost your head, perhaps? One can quite understand it.... But how +could you have lowered yourself to such an action? Gentlemen,” he +addressed the whole company, “gentlemen! Compassionate and, so to say, +commiserating these people, I am ready to overlook it even now in spite +of the personal insult lavished upon me! And may this disgrace be a +lesson to you for the future,” he said, addressing Sonia, “and I will +carry the matter no further. Enough!” + +Pyotr Petrovitch stole a glance at Raskolnikov. Their eyes met, and the +fire in Raskolnikov’s seemed ready to reduce him to ashes. Meanwhile +Katerina Ivanovna apparently heard nothing. She was kissing and hugging +Sonia like a madwoman. The children, too, were embracing Sonia on +all sides, and Polenka--though she did not fully understand what was +wrong--was drowned in tears and shaking with sobs, as she hid her pretty +little face, swollen with weeping, on Sonia’s shoulder. + +“How vile!” a loud voice cried suddenly in the doorway. + +Pyotr Petrovitch looked round quickly. + +“What vileness!” Lebeziatnikov repeated, staring him straight in the +face. + +Pyotr Petrovitch gave a positive start--all noticed it and recalled it +afterwards. Lebeziatnikov strode into the room. + +“And you dared to call me as witness?” he said, going up to Pyotr +Petrovitch. + +“What do you mean? What are you talking about?” muttered Luzhin. + +“I mean that you... are a slanderer, that’s what my words mean!” + Lebeziatnikov said hotly, looking sternly at him with his short-sighted +eyes. + +He was extremely angry. Raskolnikov gazed intently at him, as though +seizing and weighing each word. Again there was a silence. Pyotr +Petrovitch indeed seemed almost dumbfounded for the first moment. + +“If you mean that for me,...” he began, stammering. “But what’s the +matter with you? Are you out of your mind?” + +“I’m in my mind, but you are a scoundrel! Ah, how vile! I have heard +everything. I kept waiting on purpose to understand it, for I must own +even now it is not quite logical.... What you have done it all for I +can’t understand.” + +“Why, what have I done then? Give over talking in your nonsensical +riddles! Or maybe you are drunk!” + +“You may be a drunkard, perhaps, vile man, but I am not! I never touch +vodka, for it’s against my convictions. Would you believe it, he, he +himself, with his own hands gave Sofya Semyonovna that hundred-rouble +note--I saw it, I was a witness, I’ll take my oath! He did it, he!” + repeated Lebeziatnikov, addressing all. + +“Are you crazy, milksop?” squealed Luzhin. “She is herself before +you--she herself here declared just now before everyone that I gave her +only ten roubles. How could I have given it to her?” + +“I saw it, I saw it,” Lebeziatnikov repeated, “and though it is against +my principles, I am ready this very minute to take any oath you like +before the court, for I saw how you slipped it in her pocket. Only +like a fool I thought you did it out of kindness! When you were saying +good-bye to her at the door, while you held her hand in one hand, with +the other, the left, you slipped the note into her pocket. I saw it, I +saw it!” + +Luzhin turned pale. + +“What lies!” he cried impudently, “why, how could you, standing by the +window, see the note? You fancied it with your short-sighted eyes. You +are raving!” + +“No, I didn’t fancy it. And though I was standing some way off, I saw +it all. And though it certainly would be hard to distinguish a note from +the window--that’s true--I knew for certain that it was a hundred-rouble +note, because, when you were going to give Sofya Semyonovna ten roubles, +you took up from the table a hundred-rouble note (I saw it because I +was standing near then, and an idea struck me at once, so that I did not +forget you had it in your hand). You folded it and kept it in your hand +all the time. I didn’t think of it again until, when you were getting +up, you changed it from your right hand to your left and nearly dropped +it! I noticed it because the same idea struck me again, that you meant +to do her a kindness without my seeing. You can fancy how I watched you +and I saw how you succeeded in slipping it into her pocket. I saw it, I +saw it, I’ll take my oath.” + +Lebeziatnikov was almost breathless. Exclamations arose on all hands +chiefly expressive of wonder, but some were menacing in tone. They all +crowded round Pyotr Petrovitch. Katerina Ivanovna flew to Lebeziatnikov. + +“I was mistaken in you! Protect her! You are the only one to take her +part! She is an orphan. God has sent you!” + +Katerina Ivanovna, hardly knowing what she was doing, sank on her knees +before him. + +“A pack of nonsense!” yelled Luzhin, roused to fury, “it’s all nonsense +you’ve been talking! ‘An idea struck you, you didn’t think, you +noticed’--what does it amount to? So I gave it to her on the sly on +purpose? What for? With what object? What have I to do with this...?” + +“What for? That’s what I can’t understand, but that what I am telling +you is the fact, that’s certain! So far from my being mistaken, you +infamous criminal man, I remember how, on account of it, a question +occurred to me at once, just when I was thanking you and pressing +your hand. What made you put it secretly in her pocket? Why you did it +secretly, I mean? Could it be simply to conceal it from me, knowing that +my convictions are opposed to yours and that I do not approve of private +benevolence, which effects no radical cure? Well, I decided that you +really were ashamed of giving such a large sum before me. Perhaps, +too, I thought, he wants to give her a surprise, when she finds a whole +hundred-rouble note in her pocket. (For I know, some benevolent people +are very fond of decking out their charitable actions in that way.) Then +the idea struck me, too, that you wanted to test her, to see whether, +when she found it, she would come to thank you. Then, too, that you +wanted to avoid thanks and that, as the saying is, your right hand +should not know... something of that sort, in fact. I thought of so +many possibilities that I put off considering it, but still thought it +indelicate to show you that I knew your secret. But another idea struck +me again that Sofya Semyonovna might easily lose the money before she +noticed it, that was why I decided to come in here to call her out of +the room and to tell her that you put a hundred roubles in her pocket. +But on my way I went first to Madame Kobilatnikov’s to take them the +‘General Treatise on the Positive Method’ and especially to recommend +Piderit’s article (and also Wagner’s); then I come on here and what a +state of things I find! Now could I, could I, have all these ideas and +reflections if I had not seen you put the hundred-rouble note in her +pocket?” + +When Lebeziatnikov finished his long-winded harangue with the logical +deduction at the end, he was quite tired, and the perspiration streamed +from his face. He could not, alas, even express himself correctly +in Russian, though he knew no other language, so that he was quite +exhausted, almost emaciated after this heroic exploit. But his speech +produced a powerful effect. He had spoken with such vehemence, with such +conviction that everyone obviously believed him. Pyotr Petrovitch felt +that things were going badly with him. + +“What is it to do with me if silly ideas did occur to you?” he shouted, +“that’s no evidence. You may have dreamt it, that’s all! And I tell you, +you are lying, sir. You are lying and slandering from some spite against +me, simply from pique, because I did not agree with your free-thinking, +godless, social propositions!” + +But this retort did not benefit Pyotr Petrovitch. Murmurs of disapproval +were heard on all sides. + +“Ah, that’s your line now, is it!” cried Lebeziatnikov, “that’s +nonsense! Call the police and I’ll take my oath! There’s only one thing +I can’t understand: what made him risk such a contemptible action. Oh, +pitiful, despicable man!” + +“I can explain why he risked such an action, and if necessary, I, too, +will swear to it,” Raskolnikov said at last in a firm voice, and he +stepped forward. + +He appeared to be firm and composed. Everyone felt clearly, from the +very look of him that he really knew about it and that the mystery would +be solved. + +“Now I can explain it all to myself,” said Raskolnikov, addressing +Lebeziatnikov. “From the very beginning of the business, I suspected +that there was some scoundrelly intrigue at the bottom of it. I began +to suspect it from some special circumstances known to me only, which +I will explain at once to everyone: they account for everything. Your +valuable evidence has finally made everything clear to me. I beg all, +all to listen. This gentleman (he pointed to Luzhin) was recently +engaged to be married to a young lady--my sister, Avdotya Romanovna +Raskolnikov. But coming to Petersburg he quarrelled with me, the day +before yesterday, at our first meeting and I drove him out of my room--I +have two witnesses to prove it. He is a very spiteful man.... The day +before yesterday I did not know that he was staying here, in your room, +and that consequently on the very day we quarrelled--the day before +yesterday--he saw me give Katerina Ivanovna some money for the funeral, +as a friend of the late Mr. Marmeladov. He at once wrote a note to +my mother and informed her that I had given away all my money, not +to Katerina Ivanovna but to Sofya Semyonovna, and referred in a most +contemptible way to the... character of Sofya Semyonovna, that is, +hinted at the character of my attitude to Sofya Semyonovna. All this you +understand was with the object of dividing me from my mother and sister, +by insinuating that I was squandering on unworthy objects the money +which they had sent me and which was all they had. Yesterday evening, +before my mother and sister and in his presence, I declared that I had +given the money to Katerina Ivanovna for the funeral and not to Sofya +Semyonovna and that I had no acquaintance with Sofya Semyonovna and had +never seen her before, indeed. At the same time I added that he, +Pyotr Petrovitch Luzhin, with all his virtues, was not worth Sofya +Semyonovna’s little finger, though he spoke so ill of her. To his +question--would I let Sofya Semyonovna sit down beside my sister, I +answered that I had already done so that day. Irritated that my mother +and sister were unwilling to quarrel with me at his insinuations, he +gradually began being unpardonably rude to them. A final rupture took +place and he was turned out of the house. All this happened yesterday +evening. Now I beg your special attention: consider: if he had now +succeeded in proving that Sofya Semyonovna was a thief, he would +have shown to my mother and sister that he was almost right in his +suspicions, that he had reason to be angry at my putting my sister on +a level with Sofya Semyonovna, that, in attacking me, he was protecting +and preserving the honour of my sister, his betrothed. In fact he might +even, through all this, have been able to estrange me from my family, +and no doubt he hoped to be restored to favour with them; to say nothing +of revenging himself on me personally, for he has grounds for supposing +that the honour and happiness of Sofya Semyonovna are very precious to +me. That was what he was working for! That’s how I understand it. That’s +the whole reason for it and there can be no other!” + +It was like this, or somewhat like this, that Raskolnikov wound up his +speech which was followed very attentively, though often interrupted by +exclamations from his audience. But in spite of interruptions he spoke +clearly, calmly, exactly, firmly. His decisive voice, his tone of +conviction and his stern face made a great impression on everyone. + +“Yes, yes, that’s it,” Lebeziatnikov assented gleefully, “that must be +it, for he asked me, as soon as Sofya Semyonovna came into our room, +whether you were here, whether I had seen you among Katerina Ivanovna’s +guests. He called me aside to the window and asked me in secret. It was +essential for him that you should be here! That’s it, that’s it!” + +Luzhin smiled contemptuously and did not speak. But he was very pale. He +seemed to be deliberating on some means of escape. Perhaps he would have +been glad to give up everything and get away, but at the moment this +was scarcely possible. It would have implied admitting the truth of +the accusations brought against him. Moreover, the company, which had +already been excited by drink, was now too much stirred to allow it. The +commissariat clerk, though indeed he had not grasped the whole position, +was shouting louder than anyone and was making some suggestions very +unpleasant to Luzhin. But not all those present were drunk; lodgers came +in from all the rooms. The three Poles were tremendously excited +and were continually shouting at him: “The _pan_ is a _lajdak_!” and +muttering threats in Polish. Sonia had been listening with strained +attention, though she too seemed unable to grasp it all; she seemed as +though she had just returned to consciousness. She did not take her +eyes off Raskolnikov, feeling that all her safety lay in him. Katerina +Ivanovna breathed hard and painfully and seemed fearfully exhausted. +Amalia Ivanovna stood looking more stupid than anyone, with her mouth +wide open, unable to make out what had happened. She only saw that Pyotr +Petrovitch had somehow come to grief. + +Raskolnikov was attempting to speak again, but they did not let him. +Everyone was crowding round Luzhin with threats and shouts of abuse. +But Pyotr Petrovitch was not intimidated. Seeing that his accusation of +Sonia had completely failed, he had recourse to insolence: + +“Allow me, gentlemen, allow me! Don’t squeeze, let me pass!” he said, +making his way through the crowd. “And no threats, if you please! I +assure you it will be useless, you will gain nothing by it. On the +contrary, you’ll have to answer, gentlemen, for violently obstructing +the course of justice. The thief has been more than unmasked, and I +shall prosecute. Our judges are not so blind and... not so drunk, and +will not believe the testimony of two notorious infidels, agitators, and +atheists, who accuse me from motives of personal revenge which they are +foolish enough to admit.... Yes, allow me to pass!” + +“Don’t let me find a trace of you in my room! Kindly leave at once, and +everything is at an end between us! When I think of the trouble I’ve +been taking, the way I’ve been expounding... all this fortnight!” + +“I told you myself to-day that I was going, when you tried to keep me; +now I will simply add that you are a fool. I advise you to see a doctor +for your brains and your short sight. Let me pass, gentlemen!” + +He forced his way through. But the commissariat clerk was unwilling to +let him off so easily: he picked up a glass from the table, brandished +it in the air and flung it at Pyotr Petrovitch; but the glass flew +straight at Amalia Ivanovna. She screamed, and the clerk, overbalancing, +fell heavily under the table. Pyotr Petrovitch made his way to his room +and half an hour later had left the house. Sonia, timid by nature, had +felt before that day that she could be ill-treated more easily than +anyone, and that she could be wronged with impunity. Yet till that +moment she had fancied that she might escape misfortune by care, +gentleness and submissiveness before everyone. Her disappointment was +too great. She could, of course, bear with patience and almost without +murmur anything, even this. But for the first minute she felt it too +bitter. In spite of her triumph and her justification--when her first +terror and stupefaction had passed and she could understand it all +clearly--the feeling of her helplessness and of the wrong done to her +made her heart throb with anguish and she was overcome with hysterical +weeping. At last, unable to bear any more, she rushed out of the room +and ran home, almost immediately after Luzhin’s departure. When amidst +loud laughter the glass flew at Amalia Ivanovna, it was more than the +landlady could endure. With a shriek she rushed like a fury at Katerina +Ivanovna, considering her to blame for everything. + +“Out of my lodgings! At once! Quick march!” + +And with these words she began snatching up everything she could lay +her hands on that belonged to Katerina Ivanovna, and throwing it on the +floor. Katerina Ivanovna, pale, almost fainting, and gasping for breath, +jumped up from the bed where she had sunk in exhaustion and darted at +Amalia Ivanovna. But the battle was too unequal: the landlady waved her +away like a feather. + +“What! As though that godless calumny was not enough--this vile creature +attacks me! What! On the day of my husband’s funeral I am turned out of +my lodging! After eating my bread and salt she turns me into the street, +with my orphans! Where am I to go?” wailed the poor woman, sobbing and +gasping. “Good God!” she cried with flashing eyes, “is there no justice +upon earth? Whom should you protect if not us orphans? We shall see! +There is law and justice on earth, there is, I will find it! Wait a bit, +godless creature! Polenka, stay with the children, I’ll come back. Wait +for me, if you have to wait in the street. We will see whether there is +justice on earth!” + +And throwing over her head that green shawl which Marmeladov had +mentioned to Raskolnikov, Katerina Ivanovna squeezed her way through the +disorderly and drunken crowd of lodgers who still filled the room, and, +wailing and tearful, she ran into the street--with a vague intention +of going at once somewhere to find justice. Polenka with the two little +ones in her arms crouched, terrified, on the trunk in the corner of the +room, where she waited trembling for her mother to come back. Amalia +Ivanovna raged about the room, shrieking, lamenting and throwing +everything she came across on the floor. The lodgers talked +incoherently, some commented to the best of their ability on what had +happened, others quarrelled and swore at one another, while others +struck up a song.... + +“Now it’s time for me to go,” thought Raskolnikov. “Well, Sofya +Semyonovna, we shall see what you’ll say now!” + +And he set off in the direction of Sonia’s lodgings. + + + +CHAPTER IV + +Raskolnikov had been a vigorous and active champion of Sonia against +Luzhin, although he had such a load of horror and anguish in his own +heart. But having gone through so much in the morning, he found a sort +of relief in a change of sensations, apart from the strong personal +feeling which impelled him to defend Sonia. He was agitated too, +especially at some moments, by the thought of his approaching interview +with Sonia: he _had_ to tell her who had killed Lizaveta. He knew the +terrible suffering it would be to him and, as it were, brushed away the +thought of it. So when he cried as he left Katerina Ivanovna’s, “Well, +Sofya Semyonovna, we shall see what you’ll say now!” he was still +superficially excited, still vigorous and defiant from his triumph over +Luzhin. But, strange to say, by the time he reached Sonia’s lodging, he +felt a sudden impotence and fear. He stood still in hesitation at the +door, asking himself the strange question: “Must he tell her who killed +Lizaveta?” It was a strange question because he felt at the very time +not only that he could not help telling her, but also that he could +not put off the telling. He did not yet know why it must be so, he +only _felt_ it, and the agonising sense of his impotence before +the inevitable almost crushed him. To cut short his hesitation and +suffering, he quickly opened the door and looked at Sonia from the +doorway. She was sitting with her elbows on the table and her face in +her hands, but seeing Raskolnikov she got up at once and came to meet +him as though she were expecting him. + +“What would have become of me but for you?” she said quickly, meeting +him in the middle of the room. + +Evidently she was in haste to say this to him. It was what she had been +waiting for. + +Raskolnikov went to the table and sat down on the chair from which she +had only just risen. She stood facing him, two steps away, just as she +had done the day before. + +“Well, Sonia?” he said, and felt that his voice was trembling, “it was +all due to ‘your social position and the habits associated with it.’ Did +you understand that just now?” + +Her face showed her distress. + +“Only don’t talk to me as you did yesterday,” she interrupted him. +“Please don’t begin it. There is misery enough without that.” + +She made haste to smile, afraid that he might not like the reproach. + +“I was silly to come away from there. What is happening there now? I +wanted to go back directly, but I kept thinking that... you would come.” + +He told her that Amalia Ivanovna was turning them out of their lodging +and that Katerina Ivanovna had run off somewhere “to seek justice.” + +“My God!” cried Sonia, “let’s go at once....” + +And she snatched up her cape. + +“It’s everlastingly the same thing!” said Raskolnikov, irritably. +“You’ve no thought except for them! Stay a little with me.” + +“But... Katerina Ivanovna?” + +“You won’t lose Katerina Ivanovna, you may be sure, she’ll come to you +herself since she has run out,” he added peevishly. “If she doesn’t find +you here, you’ll be blamed for it....” + +Sonia sat down in painful suspense. Raskolnikov was silent, gazing at +the floor and deliberating. + +“This time Luzhin did not want to prosecute you,” he began, not looking +at Sonia, “but if he had wanted to, if it had suited his plans, he would +have sent you to prison if it had not been for Lebeziatnikov and me. +Ah?” + +“Yes,” she assented in a faint voice. “Yes,” she repeated, preoccupied +and distressed. + +“But I might easily not have been there. And it was quite an accident +Lebeziatnikov’s turning up.” + +Sonia was silent. + +“And if you’d gone to prison, what then? Do you remember what I said +yesterday?” + +Again she did not answer. He waited. + +“I thought you would cry out again ‘don’t speak of it, leave off.’” + Raskolnikov gave a laugh, but rather a forced one. “What, silence +again?” he asked a minute later. “We must talk about something, you +know. It would be interesting for me to know how you would decide a +certain ‘problem’ as Lebeziatnikov would say.” (He was beginning to lose +the thread.) “No, really, I am serious. Imagine, Sonia, that you had +known all Luzhin’s intentions beforehand. Known, that is, for a fact, +that they would be the ruin of Katerina Ivanovna and the children and +yourself thrown in--since you don’t count yourself for anything--Polenka +too... for she’ll go the same way. Well, if suddenly it all depended on +your decision whether he or they should go on living, that is whether +Luzhin should go on living and doing wicked things, or Katerina Ivanovna +should die? How would you decide which of them was to die? I ask you?” + +Sonia looked uneasily at him. There was something peculiar in this +hesitating question, which seemed approaching something in a roundabout +way. + +“I felt that you were going to ask some question like that,” she said, +looking inquisitively at him. + +“I dare say you did. But how is it to be answered?” + +“Why do you ask about what could not happen?” said Sonia reluctantly. + +“Then it would be better for Luzhin to go on living and doing wicked +things? You haven’t dared to decide even that!” + +“But I can’t know the Divine Providence.... And why do you ask what +can’t be answered? What’s the use of such foolish questions? How could +it happen that it should depend on my decision--who has made me a judge +to decide who is to live and who is not to live?” + +“Oh, if the Divine Providence is to be mixed up in it, there is no doing +anything,” Raskolnikov grumbled morosely. + +“You’d better say straight out what you want!” Sonia cried in distress. +“You are leading up to something again.... Can you have come simply to +torture me?” + +She could not control herself and began crying bitterly. He looked at +her in gloomy misery. Five minutes passed. + +“Of course you’re right, Sonia,” he said softly at last. He was suddenly +changed. His tone of assumed arrogance and helpless defiance was gone. +Even his voice was suddenly weak. “I told you yesterday that I was not +coming to ask forgiveness and almost the first thing I’ve said is to ask +forgiveness.... I said that about Luzhin and Providence for my own sake. +I was asking forgiveness, Sonia....” + +He tried to smile, but there was something helpless and incomplete in +his pale smile. He bowed his head and hid his face in his hands. + +And suddenly a strange, surprising sensation of a sort of bitter hatred +for Sonia passed through his heart. As it were wondering and frightened +of this sensation, he raised his head and looked intently at her; but he +met her uneasy and painfully anxious eyes fixed on him; there was +love in them; his hatred vanished like a phantom. It was not the real +feeling; he had taken the one feeling for the other. It only meant that +_that_ minute had come. + +He hid his face in his hands again and bowed his head. Suddenly he +turned pale, got up from his chair, looked at Sonia, and without +uttering a word sat down mechanically on her bed. + +His sensations that moment were terribly like the moment when he had +stood over the old woman with the axe in his hand and felt that “he must +not lose another minute.” + +“What’s the matter?” asked Sonia, dreadfully frightened. + +He could not utter a word. This was not at all, not at all the way he +had intended to “tell” and he did not understand what was happening to +him now. She went up to him, softly, sat down on the bed beside him and +waited, not taking her eyes off him. Her heart throbbed and sank. It +was unendurable; he turned his deadly pale face to her. His lips worked, +helplessly struggling to utter something. A pang of terror passed +through Sonia’s heart. + +“What’s the matter?” she repeated, drawing a little away from him. + +“Nothing, Sonia, don’t be frightened.... It’s nonsense. It really is +nonsense, if you think of it,” he muttered, like a man in delirium. “Why +have I come to torture you?” he added suddenly, looking at her. “Why, +really? I keep asking myself that question, Sonia....” + +He had perhaps been asking himself that question a quarter of an hour +before, but now he spoke helplessly, hardly knowing what he said and +feeling a continual tremor all over. + +“Oh, how you are suffering!” she muttered in distress, looking intently +at him. + +“It’s all nonsense.... Listen, Sonia.” He suddenly smiled, a pale +helpless smile for two seconds. “You remember what I meant to tell you +yesterday?” + +Sonia waited uneasily. + +“I said as I went away that perhaps I was saying good-bye for ever, but +that if I came to-day I would tell you who... who killed Lizaveta.” + +She began trembling all over. + +“Well, here I’ve come to tell you.” + +“Then you really meant it yesterday?” she whispered with difficulty. +“How do you know?” she asked quickly, as though suddenly regaining her +reason. + +Sonia’s face grew paler and paler, and she breathed painfully. + +“I know.” + +She paused a minute. + +“Have they found him?” she asked timidly. + +“No.” + +“Then how do you know about _it_?” she asked again, hardly audibly and +again after a minute’s pause. + +He turned to her and looked very intently at her. + +“Guess,” he said, with the same distorted helpless smile. + +A shudder passed over her. + +“But you... why do you frighten me like this?” she said, smiling like a +child. + +“I must be a great friend of _his_... since I know,” Raskolnikov went +on, still gazing into her face, as though he could not turn his eyes +away. “He... did not mean to kill that Lizaveta... he... killed her +accidentally.... He meant to kill the old woman when she was alone and +he went there... and then Lizaveta came in... he killed her too.” + +Another awful moment passed. Both still gazed at one another. + +“You can’t guess, then?” he asked suddenly, feeling as though he were +flinging himself down from a steeple. + +“N-no...” whispered Sonia. + +“Take a good look.” + +As soon as he had said this again, the same familiar sensation froze his +heart. He looked at her and all at once seemed to see in her face the +face of Lizaveta. He remembered clearly the expression in Lizaveta’s +face, when he approached her with the axe and she stepped back to the +wall, putting out her hand, with childish terror in her face, looking +as little children do when they begin to be frightened of something, +looking intently and uneasily at what frightens them, shrinking back and +holding out their little hands on the point of crying. Almost the same +thing happened now to Sonia. With the same helplessness and the same +terror, she looked at him for a while and, suddenly putting out her left +hand, pressed her fingers faintly against his breast and slowly began to +get up from the bed, moving further from him and keeping her eyes fixed +even more immovably on him. Her terror infected him. The same fear +showed itself on his face. In the same way he stared at her and almost +with the same _childish_ smile. + +“Have you guessed?” he whispered at last. + +“Good God!” broke in an awful wail from her bosom. + +She sank helplessly on the bed with her face in the pillows, but a +moment later she got up, moved quickly to him, seized both his hands +and, gripping them tight in her thin fingers, began looking into his +face again with the same intent stare. In this last desperate look she +tried to look into him and catch some last hope. But there was no hope; +there was no doubt remaining; it was all true! Later on, indeed, when +she recalled that moment, she thought it strange and wondered why she +had seen at once that there was no doubt. She could not have said, for +instance, that she had foreseen something of the sort--and yet now, as +soon as he told her, she suddenly fancied that she had really foreseen +this very thing. + +“Stop, Sonia, enough! don’t torture me,” he begged her miserably. + +It was not at all, not at all like this he had thought of telling her, +but this is how it happened. + +She jumped up, seeming not to know what she was doing, and, wringing her +hands, walked into the middle of the room; but quickly went back and sat +down again beside him, her shoulder almost touching his. All of a sudden +she started as though she had been stabbed, uttered a cry and fell on +her knees before him, she did not know why. + +“What have you done--what have you done to yourself?” she said in +despair, and, jumping up, she flung herself on his neck, threw her arms +round him, and held him tightly. + +Raskolnikov drew back and looked at her with a mournful smile. + +“You are a strange girl, Sonia--you kiss me and hug me when I tell you +about that.... You don’t think what you are doing.” + +“There is no one--no one in the whole world now so unhappy as you!” she +cried in a frenzy, not hearing what he said, and she suddenly broke into +violent hysterical weeping. + +A feeling long unfamiliar to him flooded his heart and softened it at +once. He did not struggle against it. Two tears started into his eyes +and hung on his eyelashes. + +“Then you won’t leave me, Sonia?” he said, looking at her almost with +hope. + +“No, no, never, nowhere!” cried Sonia. “I will follow you, I will follow +you everywhere. Oh, my God! Oh, how miserable I am!... Why, why didn’t I +know you before! Why didn’t you come before? Oh, dear!” + +“Here I have come.” + +“Yes, now! What’s to be done now?... Together, together!” she repeated +as it were unconsciously, and she hugged him again. “I’ll follow you to +Siberia!” + +He recoiled at this, and the same hostile, almost haughty smile came to +his lips. + +“Perhaps I don’t want to go to Siberia yet, Sonia,” he said. + +Sonia looked at him quickly. + +Again after her first passionate, agonising sympathy for the unhappy man +the terrible idea of the murder overwhelmed her. In his changed tone she +seemed to hear the murderer speaking. She looked at him bewildered. She +knew nothing as yet, why, how, with what object it had been. Now all +these questions rushed at once into her mind. And again she could not +believe it: “He, he is a murderer! Could it be true?” + +“What’s the meaning of it? Where am I?” she said in complete +bewilderment, as though still unable to recover herself. “How could you, +you, a man like you.... How could you bring yourself to it?... What does +it mean?” + +“Oh, well--to plunder. Leave off, Sonia,” he answered wearily, almost +with vexation. + +Sonia stood as though struck dumb, but suddenly she cried: + +“You were hungry! It was... to help your mother? Yes?” + +“No, Sonia, no,” he muttered, turning away and hanging his head. “I was +not so hungry.... I certainly did want to help my mother, but... that’s +not the real thing either.... Don’t torture me, Sonia.” + +Sonia clasped her hands. + +“Could it, could it all be true? Good God, what a truth! Who could +believe it? And how could you give away your last farthing and yet +rob and murder! Ah,” she cried suddenly, “that money you gave Katerina +Ivanovna... that money.... Can that money...” + +“No, Sonia,” he broke in hurriedly, “that money was not it. Don’t worry +yourself! That money my mother sent me and it came when I was ill, the +day I gave it to you.... Razumihin saw it... he received it for me.... +That money was mine--my own.” + +Sonia listened to him in bewilderment and did her utmost to comprehend. + +“And _that_ money.... I don’t even know really whether there was any +money,” he added softly, as though reflecting. “I took a purse off her +neck, made of chamois leather... a purse stuffed full of something... +but I didn’t look in it; I suppose I hadn’t time.... And the +things--chains and trinkets--I buried under a stone with the purse next +morning in a yard off the V---- Prospect. They are all there now....” + +Sonia strained every nerve to listen. + +“Then why... why, you said you did it to rob, but you took nothing?” she +asked quickly, catching at a straw. + +“I don’t know.... I haven’t yet decided whether to take that money or +not,” he said, musing again; and, seeming to wake up with a start, he +gave a brief ironical smile. “Ach, what silly stuff I am talking, eh?” + +The thought flashed through Sonia’s mind, wasn’t he mad? But she +dismissed it at once. “No, it was something else.” She could make +nothing of it, nothing. + +“Do you know, Sonia,” he said suddenly with conviction, “let me tell +you: if I’d simply killed because I was hungry,” laying stress on +every word and looking enigmatically but sincerely at her, “I should +be _happy_ now. You must believe that! What would it matter to you,” he +cried a moment later with a sort of despair, “what would it matter to +you if I were to confess that I did wrong? What do you gain by such +a stupid triumph over me? Ah, Sonia, was it for that I’ve come to you +to-day?” + +Again Sonia tried to say something, but did not speak. + +“I asked you to go with me yesterday because you are all I have left.” + +“Go where?” asked Sonia timidly. + +“Not to steal and not to murder, don’t be anxious,” he smiled bitterly. +“We are so different.... And you know, Sonia, it’s only now, only this +moment that I understand _where_ I asked you to go with me yesterday! +Yesterday when I said it I did not know where. I asked you for one +thing, I came to you for one thing--not to leave me. You won’t leave me, +Sonia?” + +She squeezed his hand. + +“And why, why did I tell her? Why did I let her know?” he cried a minute +later in despair, looking with infinite anguish at her. “Here you expect +an explanation from me, Sonia; you are sitting and waiting for it, I see +that. But what can I tell you? You won’t understand and will only suffer +misery... on my account! Well, you are crying and embracing me again. +Why do you do it? Because I couldn’t bear my burden and have come to +throw it on another: you suffer too, and I shall feel better! And can +you love such a mean wretch?” + +“But aren’t you suffering, too?” cried Sonia. + +Again a wave of the same feeling surged into his heart, and again for an +instant softened it. + +“Sonia, I have a bad heart, take note of that. It may explain a great +deal. I have come because I am bad. There are men who wouldn’t have +come. But I am a coward and... a mean wretch. But... never mind! That’s +not the point. I must speak now, but I don’t know how to begin.” + +He paused and sank into thought. + +“Ach, we are so different,” he cried again, “we are not alike. And why, +why did I come? I shall never forgive myself that.” + +“No, no, it was a good thing you came,” cried Sonia. “It’s better I +should know, far better!” + +He looked at her with anguish. + +“What if it were really that?” he said, as though reaching a conclusion. +“Yes, that’s what it was! I wanted to become a Napoleon, that is why I +killed her.... Do you understand now?” + +“N-no,” Sonia whispered naïvely and timidly. “Only speak, speak, I shall +understand, I shall understand _in myself_!” she kept begging him. + +“You’ll understand? Very well, we shall see!” He paused and was for some +time lost in meditation. + +“It was like this: I asked myself one day this question--what if +Napoleon, for instance, had happened to be in my place, and if he had +not had Toulon nor Egypt nor the passage of Mont Blanc to begin his +career with, but instead of all those picturesque and monumental things, +there had simply been some ridiculous old hag, a pawnbroker, who had +to be murdered too to get money from her trunk (for his career, you +understand). Well, would he have brought himself to that if there had +been no other means? Wouldn’t he have felt a pang at its being so far +from monumental and... and sinful, too? Well, I must tell you that I +worried myself fearfully over that ‘question’ so that I was awfully +ashamed when I guessed at last (all of a sudden, somehow) that it would +not have given him the least pang, that it would not even have struck +him that it was not monumental... that he would not have seen that there +was anything in it to pause over, and that, if he had had no other way, +he would have strangled her in a minute without thinking about it! +Well, I too... left off thinking about it... murdered her, following +his example. And that’s exactly how it was! Do you think it funny? Yes, +Sonia, the funniest thing of all is that perhaps that’s just how it +was.” + +Sonia did not think it at all funny. + +“You had better tell me straight out... without examples,” she begged, +still more timidly and scarcely audibly. + +He turned to her, looked sadly at her and took her hands. + +“You are right again, Sonia. Of course that’s all nonsense, it’s almost +all talk! You see, you know of course that my mother has scarcely +anything, my sister happened to have a good education and was condemned +to drudge as a governess. All their hopes were centered on me. I was a +student, but I couldn’t keep myself at the university and was forced +for a time to leave it. Even if I had lingered on like that, in ten +or twelve years I might (with luck) hope to be some sort of teacher or +clerk with a salary of a thousand roubles” (he repeated it as though it +were a lesson) “and by that time my mother would be worn out with grief +and anxiety and I could not succeed in keeping her in comfort while my +sister... well, my sister might well have fared worse! And it’s a hard +thing to pass everything by all one’s life, to turn one’s back upon +everything, to forget one’s mother and decorously accept the insults +inflicted on one’s sister. Why should one? When one has buried them to +burden oneself with others--wife and children--and to leave them again +without a farthing? So I resolved to gain possession of the old woman’s +money and to use it for my first years without worrying my mother, +to keep myself at the university and for a little while after leaving +it--and to do this all on a broad, thorough scale, so as to build up +a completely new career and enter upon a new life of independence.... +Well... that’s all.... Well, of course in killing the old woman I did +wrong.... Well, that’s enough.” + +He struggled to the end of his speech in exhaustion and let his head +sink. + +“Oh, that’s not it, that’s not it,” Sonia cried in distress. “How could +one... no, that’s not right, not right.” + +“You see yourself that it’s not right. But I’ve spoken truly, it’s the +truth.” + +“As though that could be the truth! Good God!” + +“I’ve only killed a louse, Sonia, a useless, loathsome, harmful +creature.” + +“A human being--a louse!” + +“I too know it wasn’t a louse,” he answered, looking strangely at +her. “But I am talking nonsense, Sonia,” he added. “I’ve been talking +nonsense a long time.... That’s not it, you are right there. There were +quite, quite other causes for it! I haven’t talked to anyone for so +long, Sonia.... My head aches dreadfully now.” + +His eyes shone with feverish brilliance. He was almost delirious; an +uneasy smile strayed on his lips. His terrible exhaustion could be seen +through his excitement. Sonia saw how he was suffering. She too +was growing dizzy. And he talked so strangely; it seemed somehow +comprehensible, but yet... “But how, how! Good God!” And she wrung her +hands in despair. + +“No, Sonia, that’s not it,” he began again suddenly, raising his head, +as though a new and sudden train of thought had struck and as it were +roused him--“that’s not it! Better... imagine--yes, it’s certainly +better--imagine that I am vain, envious, malicious, base, vindictive +and... well, perhaps with a tendency to insanity. (Let’s have it all out +at once! They’ve talked of madness already, I noticed.) I told you just +now I could not keep myself at the university. But do you know that +perhaps I might have done? My mother would have sent me what I needed +for the fees and I could have earned enough for clothes, boots and food, +no doubt. Lessons had turned up at half a rouble. Razumihin works! But I +turned sulky and wouldn’t. (Yes, sulkiness, that’s the right word for +it!) I sat in my room like a spider. You’ve been in my den, you’ve seen +it.... And do you know, Sonia, that low ceilings and tiny rooms cramp +the soul and the mind? Ah, how I hated that garret! And yet I wouldn’t +go out of it! I wouldn’t on purpose! I didn’t go out for days together, +and I wouldn’t work, I wouldn’t even eat, I just lay there doing +nothing. If Nastasya brought me anything, I ate it, if she didn’t, I +went all day without; I wouldn’t ask, on purpose, from sulkiness! At +night I had no light, I lay in the dark and I wouldn’t earn money for +candles. I ought to have studied, but I sold my books; and the dust lies +an inch thick on the notebooks on my table. I preferred lying still and +thinking. And I kept thinking.... And I had dreams all the time, strange +dreams of all sorts, no need to describe! Only then I began to fancy +that... No, that’s not it! Again I am telling you wrong! You see I kept +asking myself then: why am I so stupid that if others are stupid--and I +know they are--yet I won’t be wiser? Then I saw, Sonia, that if one +waits for everyone to get wiser it will take too long.... Afterwards I +understood that that would never come to pass, that men won’t change and +that nobody can alter it and that it’s not worth wasting effort over it. +Yes, that’s so. That’s the law of their nature, Sonia,... that’s so!... +And I know now, Sonia, that whoever is strong in mind and spirit will +have power over them. Anyone who is greatly daring is right in their +eyes. He who despises most things will be a lawgiver among them and he +who dares most of all will be most in the right! So it has been till now +and so it will always be. A man must be blind not to see it!” + +Though Raskolnikov looked at Sonia as he said this, he no longer cared +whether she understood or not. The fever had complete hold of him; he +was in a sort of gloomy ecstasy (he certainly had been too long without +talking to anyone). Sonia felt that his gloomy creed had become his +faith and code. + +“I divined then, Sonia,” he went on eagerly, “that power is only +vouchsafed to the man who dares to stoop and pick it up. There is only +one thing, one thing needful: one has only to dare! Then for the first +time in my life an idea took shape in my mind which no one had ever +thought of before me, no one! I saw clear as daylight how strange it is +that not a single person living in this mad world has had the daring to +go straight for it all and send it flying to the devil! I... I wanted +_to have the daring_... and I killed her. I only wanted to have the +daring, Sonia! That was the whole cause of it!” + +“Oh hush, hush,” cried Sonia, clasping her hands. “You turned away from +God and God has smitten you, has given you over to the devil!” + +“Then Sonia, when I used to lie there in the dark and all this became +clear to me, was it a temptation of the devil, eh?” + +“Hush, don’t laugh, blasphemer! You don’t understand, you don’t +understand! Oh God! He won’t understand!” + +“Hush, Sonia! I am not laughing. I know myself that it was the devil +leading me. Hush, Sonia, hush!” he repeated with gloomy insistence. “I +know it all, I have thought it all over and over and whispered it all +over to myself, lying there in the dark.... I’ve argued it all over with +myself, every point of it, and I know it all, all! And how sick, how +sick I was then of going over it all! I have kept wanting to forget it +and make a new beginning, Sonia, and leave off thinking. And you don’t +suppose that I went into it headlong like a fool? I went into it like a +wise man, and that was just my destruction. And you mustn’t suppose that +I didn’t know, for instance, that if I began to question myself whether +I had the right to gain power--I certainly hadn’t the right--or that if +I asked myself whether a human being is a louse it proved that it wasn’t +so for me, though it might be for a man who would go straight to his +goal without asking questions.... If I worried myself all those days, +wondering whether Napoleon would have done it or not, I felt clearly +of course that I wasn’t Napoleon. I had to endure all the agony of that +battle of ideas, Sonia, and I longed to throw it off: I wanted to murder +without casuistry, to murder for my own sake, for myself alone! I didn’t +want to lie about it even to myself. It wasn’t to help my mother I did +the murder--that’s nonsense--I didn’t do the murder to gain wealth and +power and to become a benefactor of mankind. Nonsense! I simply did it; +I did the murder for myself, for myself alone, and whether I became a +benefactor to others, or spent my life like a spider catching men in +my web and sucking the life out of men, I couldn’t have cared at that +moment.... And it was not the money I wanted, Sonia, when I did it. It +was not so much the money I wanted, but something else.... I know it all +now.... Understand me! Perhaps I should never have committed a murder +again. I wanted to find out something else; it was something else led +me on. I wanted to find out then and quickly whether I was a louse +like everybody else or a man. Whether I can step over barriers or +not, whether I dare stoop to pick up or not, whether I am a trembling +creature or whether I have the _right_...” + +“To kill? Have the right to kill?” Sonia clasped her hands. + +“Ach, Sonia!” he cried irritably and seemed about to make some retort, +but was contemptuously silent. “Don’t interrupt me, Sonia. I want to +prove one thing only, that the devil led me on then and he has shown me +since that I had not the right to take that path, because I am just such +a louse as all the rest. He was mocking me and here I’ve come to you +now! Welcome your guest! If I were not a louse, should I have come to +you? Listen: when I went then to the old woman’s I only went to +_try_.... You may be sure of that!” + +“And you murdered her!” + +“But how did I murder her? Is that how men do murders? Do men go to +commit a murder as I went then? I will tell you some day how I went! +Did I murder the old woman? I murdered myself, not her! I crushed myself +once for all, for ever.... But it was the devil that killed that old +woman, not I. Enough, enough, Sonia, enough! Let me be!” he cried in a +sudden spasm of agony, “let me be!” + +He leaned his elbows on his knees and squeezed his head in his hands as +in a vise. + +“What suffering!” A wail of anguish broke from Sonia. + +“Well, what am I to do now?” he asked, suddenly raising his head and +looking at her with a face hideously distorted by despair. + +“What are you to do?” she cried, jumping up, and her eyes that had been +full of tears suddenly began to shine. “Stand up!” (She seized him by +the shoulder, he got up, looking at her almost bewildered.) “Go at once, +this very minute, stand at the cross-roads, bow down, first kiss the +earth which you have defiled and then bow down to all the world and say +to all men aloud, ‘I am a murderer!’ Then God will send you life again. +Will you go, will you go?” she asked him, trembling all over, snatching +his two hands, squeezing them tight in hers and gazing at him with eyes +full of fire. + +He was amazed at her sudden ecstasy. + +“You mean Siberia, Sonia? I must give myself up?” he asked gloomily. + +“Suffer and expiate your sin by it, that’s what you must do.” + +“No! I am not going to them, Sonia!” + +“But how will you go on living? What will you live for?” cried Sonia, +“how is it possible now? Why, how can you talk to your mother? (Oh, what +will become of them now?) But what am I saying? You have abandoned your +mother and your sister already. He has abandoned them already! Oh, +God!” she cried, “why, he knows it all himself. How, how can he live by +himself! What will become of you now?” + +“Don’t be a child, Sonia,” he said softly. “What wrong have I done +them? Why should I go to them? What should I say to them? That’s only a +phantom.... They destroy men by millions themselves and look on it as a +virtue. They are knaves and scoundrels, Sonia! I am not going to them. +And what should I say to them--that I murdered her, but did not dare to +take the money and hid it under a stone?” he added with a bitter smile. +“Why, they would laugh at me, and would call me a fool for not getting +it. A coward and a fool! They wouldn’t understand and they don’t deserve +to understand. Why should I go to them? I won’t. Don’t be a child, +Sonia....” + +“It will be too much for you to bear, too much!” she repeated, holding +out her hands in despairing supplication. + +“Perhaps I’ve been unfair to myself,” he observed gloomily, pondering, +“perhaps after all I am a man and not a louse and I’ve been in too great +a hurry to condemn myself. I’ll make another fight for it.” + +A haughty smile appeared on his lips. + +“What a burden to bear! And your whole life, your whole life!” + +“I shall get used to it,” he said grimly and thoughtfully. “Listen,” he +began a minute later, “stop crying, it’s time to talk of the facts: I’ve +come to tell you that the police are after me, on my track....” + +“Ach!” Sonia cried in terror. + +“Well, why do you cry out? You want me to go to Siberia and now you are +frightened? But let me tell you: I shall not give myself up. I shall +make a struggle for it and they won’t do anything to me. They’ve no real +evidence. Yesterday I was in great danger and believed I was lost; but +to-day things are going better. All the facts they know can be explained +two ways, that’s to say I can turn their accusations to my credit, do +you understand? And I shall, for I’ve learnt my lesson. But they will +certainly arrest me. If it had not been for something that happened, +they would have done so to-day for certain; perhaps even now they will +arrest me to-day.... But that’s no matter, Sonia; they’ll let me out +again... for there isn’t any real proof against me, and there won’t be, +I give you my word for it. And they can’t convict a man on what they +have against me. Enough.... I only tell you that you may know.... I will +try to manage somehow to put it to my mother and sister so that they +won’t be frightened.... My sister’s future is secure, however, now, I +believe... and my mother’s must be too.... Well, that’s all. Be careful, +though. Will you come and see me in prison when I am there?” + +“Oh, I will, I will.” + +They sat side by side, both mournful and dejected, as though they had +been cast up by the tempest alone on some deserted shore. He looked at +Sonia and felt how great was her love for him, and strange to say he +felt it suddenly burdensome and painful to be so loved. Yes, it was a +strange and awful sensation! On his way to see Sonia he had felt that +all his hopes rested on her; he expected to be rid of at least part +of his suffering, and now, when all her heart turned towards him, he +suddenly felt that he was immeasurably unhappier than before. + +“Sonia,” he said, “you’d better not come and see me when I am in +prison.” + +Sonia did not answer, she was crying. Several minutes passed. + +“Have you a cross on you?” she asked, as though suddenly thinking of it. + +He did not at first understand the question. + +“No, of course not. Here, take this one, of cypress wood. I have +another, a copper one that belonged to Lizaveta. I changed with +Lizaveta: she gave me her cross and I gave her my little ikon. I will +wear Lizaveta’s now and give you this. Take it... it’s mine! It’s mine, +you know,” she begged him. “We will go to suffer together, and together +we will bear our cross!” + +“Give it me,” said Raskolnikov. + +He did not want to hurt her feelings. But immediately he drew back the +hand he held out for the cross. + +“Not now, Sonia. Better later,” he added to comfort her. + +“Yes, yes, better,” she repeated with conviction, “when you go to meet +your suffering, then put it on. You will come to me, I’ll put it on you, +we will pray and go together.” + +At that moment someone knocked three times at the door. + +“Sofya Semyonovna, may I come in?” they heard in a very familiar and +polite voice. + +Sonia rushed to the door in a fright. The flaxen head of Mr. +Lebeziatnikov appeared at the door. + + + +CHAPTER V + +Lebeziatnikov looked perturbed. + +“I’ve come to you, Sofya Semyonovna,” he began. “Excuse me... I thought +I should find you,” he said, addressing Raskolnikov suddenly, “that is, +I didn’t mean anything... of that sort... But I just thought... Katerina +Ivanovna has gone out of her mind,” he blurted out suddenly, turning +from Raskolnikov to Sonia. + +Sonia screamed. + +“At least it seems so. But... we don’t know what to do, you see! She +came back--she seems to have been turned out somewhere, perhaps +beaten.... So it seems at least,... She had run to your father’s former +chief, she didn’t find him at home: he was dining at some other +general’s.... Only fancy, she rushed off there, to the other general’s, +and, imagine, she was so persistent that she managed to get the chief to +see her, had him fetched out from dinner, it seems. You can imagine what +happened. She was turned out, of course; but, according to her own +story, she abused him and threw something at him. One may well believe +it.... How it is she wasn’t taken up, I can’t understand! Now she is +telling everyone, including Amalia Ivanovna; but it’s difficult to +understand her, she is screaming and flinging herself about.... Oh yes, +she shouts that since everyone has abandoned her, she will take the +children and go into the street with a barrel-organ, and the children +will sing and dance, and she too, and collect money, and will go every +day under the general’s window... ‘to let everyone see well-born +children, whose father was an official, begging in the street.’ She +keeps beating the children and they are all crying. She is teaching Lida +to sing ‘My Village,’ the boy to dance, Polenka the same. She is tearing +up all the clothes, and making them little caps like actors; she means +to carry a tin basin and make it tinkle, instead of music.... She won’t +listen to anything.... Imagine the state of things! It’s beyond +anything!” + +Lebeziatnikov would have gone on, but Sonia, who had heard him almost +breathless, snatched up her cloak and hat, and ran out of the room, +putting on her things as she went. Raskolnikov followed her and +Lebeziatnikov came after him. + +“She has certainly gone mad!” he said to Raskolnikov, as they went out +into the street. “I didn’t want to frighten Sofya Semyonovna, so I said +‘it seemed like it,’ but there isn’t a doubt of it. They say that in +consumption the tubercles sometimes occur in the brain; it’s a pity I +know nothing of medicine. I did try to persuade her, but she wouldn’t +listen.” + +“Did you talk to her about the tubercles?” + +“Not precisely of the tubercles. Besides, she wouldn’t have understood! +But what I say is, that if you convince a person logically that he +has nothing to cry about, he’ll stop crying. That’s clear. Is it your +conviction that he won’t?” + +“Life would be too easy if it were so,” answered Raskolnikov. + +“Excuse me, excuse me; of course it would be rather difficult for +Katerina Ivanovna to understand, but do you know that in Paris they have +been conducting serious experiments as to the possibility of curing the +insane, simply by logical argument? One professor there, a scientific +man of standing, lately dead, believed in the possibility of such +treatment. His idea was that there’s nothing really wrong with the +physical organism of the insane, and that insanity is, so to say, a +logical mistake, an error of judgment, an incorrect view of things. He +gradually showed the madman his error and, would you believe it, they +say he was successful? But as he made use of douches too, how far +success was due to that treatment remains uncertain.... So it seems at +least.” + +Raskolnikov had long ceased to listen. Reaching the house where he +lived, he nodded to Lebeziatnikov and went in at the gate. Lebeziatnikov +woke up with a start, looked about him and hurried on. + +Raskolnikov went into his little room and stood still in the middle +of it. Why had he come back here? He looked at the yellow and tattered +paper, at the dust, at his sofa.... From the yard came a loud continuous +knocking; someone seemed to be hammering... He went to the window, rose +on tiptoe and looked out into the yard for a long time with an air of +absorbed attention. But the yard was empty and he could not see who was +hammering. In the house on the left he saw some open windows; on the +window-sills were pots of sickly-looking geraniums. Linen was hung out +of the windows... He knew it all by heart. He turned away and sat down +on the sofa. + +Never, never had he felt himself so fearfully alone! + +Yes, he felt once more that he would perhaps come to hate Sonia, now +that he had made her more miserable. + +“Why had he gone to her to beg for her tears? What need had he to poison +her life? Oh, the meanness of it!” + +“I will remain alone,” he said resolutely, “and she shall not come to +the prison!” + +Five minutes later he raised his head with a strange smile. That was a +strange thought. + +“Perhaps it really would be better in Siberia,” he thought suddenly. + +He could not have said how long he sat there with vague thoughts surging +through his mind. All at once the door opened and Dounia came in. At +first she stood still and looked at him from the doorway, just as he +had done at Sonia; then she came in and sat down in the same place +as yesterday, on the chair facing him. He looked silently and almost +vacantly at her. + +“Don’t be angry, brother; I’ve only come for one minute,” said Dounia. + +Her face looked thoughtful but not stern. Her eyes were bright and soft. +He saw that she too had come to him with love. + +“Brother, now I know all, _all_. Dmitri Prokofitch has explained and +told me everything. They are worrying and persecuting you through a +stupid and contemptible suspicion.... Dmitri Prokofitch told me that +there is no danger, and that you are wrong in looking upon it with such +horror. I don’t think so, and I fully understand how indignant you must +be, and that that indignation may have a permanent effect on you. That’s +what I am afraid of. As for your cutting yourself off from us, I don’t +judge you, I don’t venture to judge you, and forgive me for having +blamed you for it. I feel that I too, if I had so great a trouble, +should keep away from everyone. I shall tell mother nothing _of this_, +but I shall talk about you continually and shall tell her from you that +you will come very soon. Don’t worry about her; _I_ will set her mind at +rest; but don’t you try her too much--come once at least; remember that +she is your mother. And now I have come simply to say” (Dounia began +to get up) “that if you should need me or should need... all my life or +anything... call me, and I’ll come. Good-bye!” + +She turned abruptly and went towards the door. + +“Dounia!” Raskolnikov stopped her and went towards her. “That Razumihin, +Dmitri Prokofitch, is a very good fellow.” + +Dounia flushed slightly. + +“Well?” she asked, waiting a moment. + +“He is competent, hardworking, honest and capable of real love.... +Good-bye, Dounia.” + +Dounia flushed crimson, then suddenly she took alarm. + +“But what does it mean, brother? Are we really parting for ever that +you... give me such a parting message?” + +“Never mind.... Good-bye.” + +He turned away, and walked to the window. She stood a moment, looked at +him uneasily, and went out troubled. + +No, he was not cold to her. There was an instant (the very last one) +when he had longed to take her in his arms and _say good-bye_ to her, +and even _to tell_ her, but he had not dared even to touch her hand. + +“Afterwards she may shudder when she remembers that I embraced her, and +will feel that I stole her kiss.” + +“And would _she_ stand that test?” he went on a few minutes later to +himself. “No, she wouldn’t; girls like that can’t stand things! They +never do.” + +And he thought of Sonia. + +There was a breath of fresh air from the window. The daylight was +fading. He took up his cap and went out. + +He could not, of course, and would not consider how ill he was. But all +this continual anxiety and agony of mind could not but affect him. And +if he were not lying in high fever it was perhaps just because this +continual inner strain helped to keep him on his legs and in possession +of his faculties. But this artificial excitement could not last long. + +He wandered aimlessly. The sun was setting. A special form of misery had +begun to oppress him of late. There was nothing poignant, nothing acute +about it; but there was a feeling of permanence, of eternity about it; +it brought a foretaste of hopeless years of this cold leaden misery, a +foretaste of an eternity “on a square yard of space.” Towards evening +this sensation usually began to weigh on him more heavily. + +“With this idiotic, purely physical weakness, depending on the sunset or +something, one can’t help doing something stupid! You’ll go to Dounia, +as well as to Sonia,” he muttered bitterly. + +He heard his name called. He looked round. Lebeziatnikov rushed up to +him. + +“Only fancy, I’ve been to your room looking for you. Only fancy, she’s +carried out her plan, and taken away the children. Sofya Semyonovna and +I have had a job to find them. She is rapping on a frying-pan and making +the children dance. The children are crying. They keep stopping at the +cross-roads and in front of shops; there’s a crowd of fools running +after them. Come along!” + +“And Sonia?” Raskolnikov asked anxiously, hurrying after Lebeziatnikov. + +“Simply frantic. That is, it’s not Sofya Semyonovna’s frantic, but +Katerina Ivanovna, though Sofya Semyonova’s frantic too. But Katerina +Ivanovna is absolutely frantic. I tell you she is quite mad. They’ll be +taken to the police. You can fancy what an effect that will have.... +They are on the canal bank, near the bridge now, not far from Sofya +Semyonovna’s, quite close.” + +On the canal bank near the bridge and not two houses away from the one +where Sonia lodged, there was a crowd of people, consisting principally +of gutter children. The hoarse broken voice of Katerina Ivanovna could +be heard from the bridge, and it certainly was a strange spectacle +likely to attract a street crowd. Katerina Ivanovna in her old dress +with the green shawl, wearing a torn straw hat, crushed in a hideous way +on one side, was really frantic. She was exhausted and breathless. Her +wasted consumptive face looked more suffering than ever, and indeed out +of doors in the sunshine a consumptive always looks worse than at home. +But her excitement did not flag, and every moment her irritation grew +more intense. She rushed at the children, shouted at them, coaxed +them, told them before the crowd how to dance and what to sing, began +explaining to them why it was necessary, and driven to desperation by +their not understanding, beat them.... Then she would make a rush at the +crowd; if she noticed any decently dressed person stopping to look, she +immediately appealed to him to see what these children “from a genteel, +one may say aristocratic, house” had been brought to. If she heard +laughter or jeering in the crowd, she would rush at once at the scoffers +and begin squabbling with them. Some people laughed, others shook their +heads, but everyone felt curious at the sight of the madwoman with the +frightened children. The frying-pan of which Lebeziatnikov had spoken +was not there, at least Raskolnikov did not see it. But instead of +rapping on the pan, Katerina Ivanovna began clapping her wasted hands, +when she made Lida and Kolya dance and Polenka sing. She too joined in +the singing, but broke down at the second note with a fearful cough, +which made her curse in despair and even shed tears. What made her most +furious was the weeping and terror of Kolya and Lida. Some effort had +been made to dress the children up as street singers are dressed. The +boy had on a turban made of something red and white to look like a Turk. +There had been no costume for Lida; she simply had a red knitted cap, +or rather a night cap that had belonged to Marmeladov, decorated with +a broken piece of white ostrich feather, which had been Katerina +Ivanovna’s grandmother’s and had been preserved as a family possession. +Polenka was in her everyday dress; she looked in timid perplexity at her +mother, and kept at her side, hiding her tears. She dimly realised her +mother’s condition, and looked uneasily about her. She was terribly +frightened of the street and the crowd. Sonia followed Katerina +Ivanovna, weeping and beseeching her to return home, but Katerina +Ivanovna was not to be persuaded. + +“Leave off, Sonia, leave off,” she shouted, speaking fast, panting and +coughing. “You don’t know what you ask; you are like a child! I’ve +told you before that I am not coming back to that drunken German. Let +everyone, let all Petersburg see the children begging in the streets, +though their father was an honourable man who served all his life in +truth and fidelity, and one may say died in the service.” (Katerina +Ivanovna had by now invented this fantastic story and thoroughly +believed it.) “Let that wretch of a general see it! And you are silly, +Sonia: what have we to eat? Tell me that. We have worried you enough, I +won’t go on so! Ah, Rodion Romanovitch, is that you?” she cried, seeing +Raskolnikov and rushing up to him. “Explain to this silly girl, please, +that nothing better could be done! Even organ-grinders earn their +living, and everyone will see at once that we are different, that we are +an honourable and bereaved family reduced to beggary. And that general +will lose his post, you’ll see! We shall perform under his windows every +day, and if the Tsar drives by, I’ll fall on my knees, put the children +before me, show them to him, and say ‘Defend us father.’ He is the +father of the fatherless, he is merciful, he’ll protect us, you’ll +see, and that wretch of a general.... Lida, _tenez vous droite_! Kolya, +you’ll dance again. Why are you whimpering? Whimpering again! What +are you afraid of, stupid? Goodness, what am I to do with them, Rodion +Romanovitch? If you only knew how stupid they are! What’s one to do with +such children?” + +And she, almost crying herself--which did not stop her uninterrupted, +rapid flow of talk--pointed to the crying children. Raskolnikov tried +to persuade her to go home, and even said, hoping to work on her vanity, +that it was unseemly for her to be wandering about the streets like +an organ-grinder, as she was intending to become the principal of a +boarding-school. + +“A boarding-school, ha-ha-ha! A castle in the air,” cried Katerina +Ivanovna, her laugh ending in a cough. “No, Rodion Romanovitch, that +dream is over! All have forsaken us!... And that general.... You know, +Rodion Romanovitch, I threw an inkpot at him--it happened to be standing +in the waiting-room by the paper where you sign your name. I wrote my +name, threw it at him and ran away. Oh, the scoundrels, the scoundrels! +But enough of them, now I’ll provide for the children myself, I won’t +bow down to anybody! She has had to bear enough for us!” she pointed +to Sonia. “Polenka, how much have you got? Show me! What, only two +farthings! Oh, the mean wretches! They give us nothing, only run after +us, putting their tongues out. There, what is that blockhead laughing +at?” (She pointed to a man in the crowd.) “It’s all because Kolya here +is so stupid; I have such a bother with him. What do you want, Polenka? +Tell me in French, _parlez-moi français_. Why, I’ve taught you, you know +some phrases. Else how are you to show that you are of good family, well +brought-up children, and not at all like other organ-grinders? We aren’t +going to have a Punch and Judy show in the street, but to sing a genteel +song.... Ah, yes,... What are we to sing? You keep putting me out, +but we... you see, we are standing here, Rodion Romanovitch, to find +something to sing and get money, something Kolya can dance to.... For, +as you can fancy, our performance is all impromptu.... We must talk it +over and rehearse it all thoroughly, and then we shall go to Nevsky, +where there are far more people of good society, and we shall be noticed +at once. Lida knows ‘My Village’ only, nothing but ‘My Village,’ and +everyone sings that. We must sing something far more genteel.... Well, +have you thought of anything, Polenka? If only you’d help your mother! +My memory’s quite gone, or I should have thought of something. We really +can’t sing ‘An Hussar.’ Ah, let us sing in French, ‘Cinq sous,’ I have +taught it you, I have taught it you. And as it is in French, people will +see at once that you are children of good family, and that will be much +more touching.... You might sing ‘Marlborough s’en va-t-en guerre,’ +for that’s quite a child’s song and is sung as a lullaby in all the +aristocratic houses. + +“_Marlborough s’en va-t-en guerre Ne sait quand reviendra_...” + she began singing. “But no, better sing ‘Cinq sous.’ Now, Kolya, your +hands on your hips, make haste, and you, Lida, keep turning the other +way, and Polenka and I will sing and clap our hands! + +“_Cinq sous, cinq sous Pour monter notre menage_.” + +(Cough-cough-cough!) “Set your dress straight, Polenka, it’s slipped +down on your shoulders,” she observed, panting from coughing. “Now it’s +particularly necessary to behave nicely and genteelly, that all may +see that you are well-born children. I said at the time that the bodice +should be cut longer, and made of two widths. It was your fault, Sonia, +with your advice to make it shorter, and now you see the child is quite +deformed by it.... Why, you’re all crying again! What’s the matter, +stupids? Come, Kolya, begin. Make haste, make haste! Oh, what an +unbearable child! + +“Cinq sous, cinq sous. + +“A policeman again! What do you want?” + +A policeman was indeed forcing his way through the crowd. But at that +moment a gentleman in civilian uniform and an overcoat--a solid-looking +official of about fifty with a decoration on his neck (which delighted +Katerina Ivanovna and had its effect on the policeman)--approached and +without a word handed her a green three-rouble note. His face wore +a look of genuine sympathy. Katerina Ivanovna took it and gave him a +polite, even ceremonious, bow. + +“I thank you, honoured sir,” she began loftily. “The causes that have +induced us (take the money, Polenka: you see there are generous and +honourable people who are ready to help a poor gentlewoman in distress). +You see, honoured sir, these orphans of good family--I might even say of +aristocratic connections--and that wretch of a general sat eating +grouse... and stamped at my disturbing him. ‘Your excellency,’ I said, +‘protect the orphans, for you knew my late husband, Semyon Zaharovitch, +and on the very day of his death the basest of scoundrels slandered his +only daughter.’... That policeman again! Protect me,” she cried to the +official. “Why is that policeman edging up to me? We have only just run +away from one of them. What do you want, fool?” + +“It’s forbidden in the streets. You mustn’t make a disturbance.” + +“It’s you’re making a disturbance. It’s just the same as if I were +grinding an organ. What business is it of yours?” + +“You have to get a licence for an organ, and you haven’t got one, and in +that way you collect a crowd. Where do you lodge?” + +“What, a license?” wailed Katerina Ivanovna. “I buried my husband +to-day. What need of a license?” + +“Calm yourself, madam, calm yourself,” began the official. “Come along; +I will escort you.... This is no place for you in the crowd. You are +ill.” + +“Honoured sir, honoured sir, you don’t know,” screamed Katerina +Ivanovna. “We are going to the Nevsky.... Sonia, Sonia! Where is she? +She is crying too! What’s the matter with you all? Kolya, Lida, where +are you going?” she cried suddenly in alarm. “Oh, silly children! Kolya, +Lida, where are they off to?...” + +Kolya and Lida, scared out of their wits by the crowd, and their +mother’s mad pranks, suddenly seized each other by the hand, and ran off +at the sight of the policeman who wanted to take them away somewhere. +Weeping and wailing, poor Katerina Ivanovna ran after them. She was +a piteous and unseemly spectacle, as she ran, weeping and panting for +breath. Sonia and Polenka rushed after them. + +“Bring them back, bring them back, Sonia! Oh stupid, ungrateful +children!... Polenka! catch them.... It’s for your sakes I...” + +She stumbled as she ran and fell down. + +“She’s cut herself, she’s bleeding! Oh, dear!” cried Sonia, bending over +her. + +All ran up and crowded around. Raskolnikov and Lebeziatnikov were the +first at her side, the official too hastened up, and behind him the +policeman who muttered, “Bother!” with a gesture of impatience, feeling +that the job was going to be a troublesome one. + +“Pass on! Pass on!” he said to the crowd that pressed forward. + +“She’s dying,” someone shouted. + +“She’s gone out of her mind,” said another. + +“Lord have mercy upon us,” said a woman, crossing herself. “Have they +caught the little girl and the boy? They’re being brought back, the +elder one’s got them.... Ah, the naughty imps!” + +When they examined Katerina Ivanovna carefully, they saw that she had +not cut herself against a stone, as Sonia thought, but that the blood +that stained the pavement red was from her chest. + +“I’ve seen that before,” muttered the official to Raskolnikov and +Lebeziatnikov; “that’s consumption; the blood flows and chokes the +patient. I saw the same thing with a relative of my own not long ago... +nearly a pint of blood, all in a minute.... What’s to be done though? +She is dying.” + +“This way, this way, to my room!” Sonia implored. “I live here!... See, +that house, the second from here.... Come to me, make haste,” she turned +from one to the other. “Send for the doctor! Oh, dear!” + +Thanks to the official’s efforts, this plan was adopted, the policeman +even helping to carry Katerina Ivanovna. She was carried to Sonia’s +room, almost unconscious, and laid on the bed. The blood was still +flowing, but she seemed to be coming to herself. Raskolnikov, +Lebeziatnikov, and the official accompanied Sonia into the room and were +followed by the policeman, who first drove back the crowd which followed +to the very door. Polenka came in holding Kolya and Lida, who +were trembling and weeping. Several persons came in too from the +Kapernaumovs’ room; the landlord, a lame one-eyed man of strange +appearance with whiskers and hair that stood up like a brush, his +wife, a woman with an everlastingly scared expression, and several +open-mouthed children with wonder-struck faces. Among these, +Svidrigaïlov suddenly made his appearance. Raskolnikov looked at him +with surprise, not understanding where he had come from and not having +noticed him in the crowd. A doctor and priest wore spoken of. The +official whispered to Raskolnikov that he thought it was too late now +for the doctor, but he ordered him to be sent for. Kapernaumov ran +himself. + +Meanwhile Katerina Ivanovna had regained her breath. The bleeding ceased +for a time. She looked with sick but intent and penetrating eyes at +Sonia, who stood pale and trembling, wiping the sweat from her brow with +a handkerchief. At last she asked to be raised. They sat her up on the +bed, supporting her on both sides. + +“Where are the children?” she said in a faint voice. “You’ve brought +them, Polenka? Oh the sillies! Why did you run away.... Och!” + +Once more her parched lips were covered with blood. She moved her eyes, +looking about her. + +“So that’s how you live, Sonia! Never once have I been in your room.” + +She looked at her with a face of suffering. + +“We have been your ruin, Sonia. Polenka, Lida, Kolya, come here! Well, +here they are, Sonia, take them all! I hand them over to you, I’ve had +enough! The ball is over.” (Cough!) “Lay me down, let me die in peace.” + +They laid her back on the pillow. + +“What, the priest? I don’t want him. You haven’t got a rouble to spare. +I have no sins. God must forgive me without that. He knows how I have +suffered.... And if He won’t forgive me, I don’t care!” + +She sank more and more into uneasy delirium. At times she shuddered, +turned her eyes from side to side, recognised everyone for a minute, +but at once sank into delirium again. Her breathing was hoarse and +difficult, there was a sort of rattle in her throat. + +“I said to him, your excellency,” she ejaculated, gasping after each +word. “That Amalia Ludwigovna, ah! Lida, Kolya, hands on your hips, +make haste! _Glissez, glissez! pas de basque!_ Tap with your heels, be a +graceful child! + +“_Du hast Diamanten und Perlen_ + +“What next? That’s the thing to sing. + +“_Du hast die schönsten Augen Mädchen, was willst du mehr?_ + +“What an idea! _Was willst du mehr?_ What things the fool invents! Ah, +yes! + +“In the heat of midday in the vale of Dagestan. + +“Ah, how I loved it! I loved that song to distraction, Polenka! Your +father, you know, used to sing it when we were engaged.... Oh those +days! Oh that’s the thing for us to sing! How does it go? I’ve +forgotten. Remind me! How was it?” + +She was violently excited and tried to sit up. At last, in a horribly +hoarse, broken voice, she began, shrieking and gasping at every word, +with a look of growing terror. + +“In the heat of midday!... in the vale!... of Dagestan!... With lead in +my breast!...” + +“Your excellency!” she wailed suddenly with a heart-rending scream and +a flood of tears, “protect the orphans! You have been their father’s +guest... one may say aristocratic....” She started, regaining +consciousness, and gazed at all with a sort of terror, but at once +recognised Sonia. + +“Sonia, Sonia!” she articulated softly and caressingly, as though +surprised to find her there. “Sonia darling, are you here, too?” + +They lifted her up again. + +“Enough! It’s over! Farewell, poor thing! I am done for! I am broken!” + she cried with vindictive despair, and her head fell heavily back on the +pillow. + +She sank into unconsciousness again, but this time it did not last long. +Her pale, yellow, wasted face dropped back, her mouth fell open, her leg +moved convulsively, she gave a deep, deep sigh and died. + +Sonia fell upon her, flung her arms about her, and remained motionless +with her head pressed to the dead woman’s wasted bosom. Polenka threw +herself at her mother’s feet, kissing them and weeping violently. Though +Kolya and Lida did not understand what had happened, they had a feeling +that it was something terrible; they put their hands on each other’s +little shoulders, stared straight at one another and both at once opened +their mouths and began screaming. They were both still in their fancy +dress; one in a turban, the other in the cap with the ostrich feather. + +And how did “the certificate of merit” come to be on the bed beside +Katerina Ivanovna? It lay there by the pillow; Raskolnikov saw it. + +He walked away to the window. Lebeziatnikov skipped up to him. + +“She is dead,” he said. + +“Rodion Romanovitch, I must have two words with you,” said Svidrigaïlov, +coming up to them. + +Lebeziatnikov at once made room for him and delicately withdrew. +Svidrigaïlov drew Raskolnikov further away. + +“I will undertake all the arrangements, the funeral and that. You know +it’s a question of money and, as I told you, I have plenty to spare. I +will put those two little ones and Polenka into some good orphan asylum, +and I will settle fifteen hundred roubles to be paid to each on coming +of age, so that Sofya Semyonovna need have no anxiety about them. And I +will pull her out of the mud too, for she is a good girl, isn’t she? So +tell Avdotya Romanovna that that is how I am spending her ten thousand.” + +“What is your motive for such benevolence?” asked Raskolnikov. + +“Ah! you sceptical person!” laughed Svidrigaïlov. “I told you I had no +need of that money. Won’t you admit that it’s simply done from humanity? +She wasn’t ‘a louse,’ you know” (he pointed to the corner where the +dead woman lay), “was she, like some old pawnbroker woman? Come, you’ll +agree, is Luzhin to go on living, and doing wicked things or is she to +die? And if I didn’t help them, Polenka would go the same way.” + +He said this with an air of a sort of gay winking slyness, keeping his +eyes fixed on Raskolnikov, who turned white and cold, hearing his own +phrases, spoken to Sonia. He quickly stepped back and looked wildly at +Svidrigaïlov. + +“How do you know?” he whispered, hardly able to breathe. + +“Why, I lodge here at Madame Resslich’s, the other side of the wall. +Here is Kapernaumov, and there lives Madame Resslich, an old and devoted +friend of mine. I am a neighbour.” + +“You?” + +“Yes,” continued Svidrigaïlov, shaking with laughter. “I assure you +on my honour, dear Rodion Romanovitch, that you have interested me +enormously. I told you we should become friends, I foretold it. Well, +here we have. And you will see what an accommodating person I am. You’ll +see that you can get on with me!” + + + + +PART VI + + + +CHAPTER I + +A strange period began for Raskolnikov: it was as though a fog had +fallen upon him and wrapped him in a dreary solitude from which there +was no escape. Recalling that period long after, he believed that his +mind had been clouded at times, and that it had continued so, with +intervals, till the final catastrophe. He was convinced that he had been +mistaken about many things at that time, for instance as to the date +of certain events. Anyway, when he tried later on to piece his +recollections together, he learnt a great deal about himself from what +other people told him. He had mixed up incidents and had explained +events as due to circumstances which existed only in his imagination. At +times he was a prey to agonies of morbid uneasiness, amounting sometimes +to panic. But he remembered, too, moments, hours, perhaps whole days, +of complete apathy, which came upon him as a reaction from his previous +terror and might be compared with the abnormal insensibility, sometimes +seen in the dying. He seemed to be trying in that latter stage to escape +from a full and clear understanding of his position. Certain essential +facts which required immediate consideration were particularly irksome +to him. How glad he would have been to be free from some cares, the +neglect of which would have threatened him with complete, inevitable +ruin. + +He was particularly worried about Svidrigaïlov, he might be said to be +permanently thinking of Svidrigaïlov. From the time of Svidrigaïlov’s +too menacing and unmistakable words in Sonia’s room at the moment of +Katerina Ivanovna’s death, the normal working of his mind seemed to +break down. But although this new fact caused him extreme uneasiness, +Raskolnikov was in no hurry for an explanation of it. At times, finding +himself in a solitary and remote part of the town, in some wretched +eating-house, sitting alone lost in thought, hardly knowing how he had +come there, he suddenly thought of Svidrigaïlov. He recognised +suddenly, clearly, and with dismay that he ought at once to come to an +understanding with that man and to make what terms he could. Walking +outside the city gates one day, he positively fancied that they had +fixed a meeting there, that he was waiting for Svidrigaïlov. Another +time he woke up before daybreak lying on the ground under some bushes +and could not at first understand how he had come there. + +But during the two or three days after Katerina Ivanovna’s death, he +had two or three times met Svidrigaïlov at Sonia’s lodging, where he +had gone aimlessly for a moment. They exchanged a few words and made no +reference to the vital subject, as though they were tacitly agreed not +to speak of it for a time. + +Katerina Ivanovna’s body was still lying in the coffin, Svidrigaïlov was +busy making arrangements for the funeral. Sonia too was very busy. At +their last meeting Svidrigaïlov informed Raskolnikov that he had made +an arrangement, and a very satisfactory one, for Katerina Ivanovna’s +children; that he had, through certain connections, succeeded in getting +hold of certain personages by whose help the three orphans could be at +once placed in very suitable institutions; that the money he had settled +on them had been of great assistance, as it is much easier to place +orphans with some property than destitute ones. He said something +too about Sonia and promised to come himself in a day or two to see +Raskolnikov, mentioning that “he would like to consult with him, that +there were things they must talk over....” + +This conversation took place in the passage on the stairs. Svidrigaïlov +looked intently at Raskolnikov and suddenly, after a brief pause, +dropping his voice, asked: “But how is it, Rodion Romanovitch; you +don’t seem yourself? You look and you listen, but you don’t seem to +understand. Cheer up! We’ll talk things over; I am only sorry, I’ve +so much to do of my own business and other people’s. Ah, Rodion +Romanovitch,” he added suddenly, “what all men need is fresh air, fresh +air... more than anything!” + +He moved to one side to make way for the priest and server, who +were coming up the stairs. They had come for the requiem service. By +Svidrigaïlov’s orders it was sung twice a day punctually. Svidrigaïlov +went his way. Raskolnikov stood still a moment, thought, and followed +the priest into Sonia’s room. He stood at the door. They began quietly, +slowly and mournfully singing the service. From his childhood the +thought of death and the presence of death had something oppressive +and mysteriously awful; and it was long since he had heard the requiem +service. And there was something else here as well, too awful and +disturbing. He looked at the children: they were all kneeling by the +coffin; Polenka was weeping. Behind them Sonia prayed, softly and, as it +were, timidly weeping. + +“These last two days she hasn’t said a word to me, she hasn’t glanced at +me,” Raskolnikov thought suddenly. The sunlight was bright in the room; +the incense rose in clouds; the priest read, “Give rest, oh Lord....” + Raskolnikov stayed all through the service. As he blessed them and +took his leave, the priest looked round strangely. After the service, +Raskolnikov went up to Sonia. She took both his hands and let her +head sink on his shoulder. This slight friendly gesture bewildered +Raskolnikov. It seemed strange to him that there was no trace of +repugnance, no trace of disgust, no tremor in her hand. It was the +furthest limit of self-abnegation, at least so he interpreted it. + +Sonia said nothing. Raskolnikov pressed her hand and went out. He felt +very miserable. If it had been possible to escape to some solitude, he +would have thought himself lucky, even if he had to spend his whole life +there. But although he had almost always been by himself of late, he had +never been able to feel alone. Sometimes he walked out of the town on to +the high road, once he had even reached a little wood, but the lonelier +the place was, the more he seemed to be aware of an uneasy presence near +him. It did not frighten him, but greatly annoyed him, so that he +made haste to return to the town, to mingle with the crowd, to enter +restaurants and taverns, to walk in busy thoroughfares. There he felt +easier and even more solitary. One day at dusk he sat for an hour +listening to songs in a tavern and he remembered that he positively +enjoyed it. But at last he had suddenly felt the same uneasiness again, +as though his conscience smote him. “Here I sit listening to singing, +is that what I ought to be doing?” he thought. Yet he felt at once +that that was not the only cause of his uneasiness; there was something +requiring immediate decision, but it was something he could not clearly +understand or put into words. It was a hopeless tangle. “No, better the +struggle again! Better Porfiry again... or Svidrigaïlov.... Better some +challenge again... some attack. Yes, yes!” he thought. He went out of +the tavern and rushed away almost at a run. The thought of Dounia and +his mother suddenly reduced him almost to a panic. That night he woke +up before morning among some bushes in Krestovsky Island, trembling +all over with fever; he walked home, and it was early morning when he +arrived. After some hours’ sleep the fever left him, but he woke up +late, two o’clock in the afternoon. + +He remembered that Katerina Ivanovna’s funeral had been fixed for that +day, and was glad that he was not present at it. Nastasya brought him +some food; he ate and drank with appetite, almost with greediness. His +head was fresher and he was calmer than he had been for the last three +days. He even felt a passing wonder at his previous attacks of panic. + +The door opened and Razumihin came in. + +“Ah, he’s eating, then he’s not ill,” said Razumihin. He took a chair +and sat down at the table opposite Raskolnikov. + +He was troubled and did not attempt to conceal it. He spoke with evident +annoyance, but without hurry or raising his voice. He looked as though +he had some special fixed determination. + +“Listen,” he began resolutely. “As far as I am concerned, you may all go +to hell, but from what I see, it’s clear to me that I can’t make head or +tail of it; please don’t think I’ve come to ask you questions. I don’t +want to know, hang it! If you begin telling me your secrets, I dare say +I shouldn’t stay to listen, I should go away cursing. I have only come +to find out once for all whether it’s a fact that you are mad? There is +a conviction in the air that you are mad or very nearly so. I admit +I’ve been disposed to that opinion myself, judging from your stupid, +repulsive and quite inexplicable actions, and from your recent behavior +to your mother and sister. Only a monster or a madman could treat them +as you have; so you must be mad.” + +“When did you see them last?” + +“Just now. Haven’t you seen them since then? What have you been doing +with yourself? Tell me, please. I’ve been to you three times already. +Your mother has been seriously ill since yesterday. She had made up +her mind to come to you; Avdotya Romanovna tried to prevent her; she +wouldn’t hear a word. ‘If he is ill, if his mind is giving way, who can +look after him like his mother?’ she said. We all came here together, we +couldn’t let her come alone all the way. We kept begging her to be calm. +We came in, you weren’t here; she sat down, and stayed ten minutes, +while we stood waiting in silence. She got up and said: ‘If he’s +gone out, that is, if he is well, and has forgotten his mother, it’s +humiliating and unseemly for his mother to stand at his door begging for +kindness.’ She returned home and took to her bed; now she is in a fever. +‘I see,’ she said, ‘that he has time for _his girl_.’ She means by _your +girl_ Sofya Semyonovna, your betrothed or your mistress, I don’t know. I +went at once to Sofya Semyonovna’s, for I wanted to know what was going +on. I looked round, I saw the coffin, the children crying, and +Sofya Semyonovna trying them on mourning dresses. No sign of you. I +apologised, came away, and reported to Avdotya Romanovna. So that’s all +nonsense and you haven’t got a girl; the most likely thing is that you +are mad. But here you sit, guzzling boiled beef as though you’d not had +a bite for three days. Though as far as that goes, madmen eat too, but +though you have not said a word to me yet... you are not mad! That I’d +swear! Above all, you are not mad! So you may go to hell, all of you, +for there’s some mystery, some secret about it, and I don’t intend to +worry my brains over your secrets. So I’ve simply come to swear at you,” + he finished, getting up, “to relieve my mind. And I know what to do +now.” + +“What do you mean to do now?” + +“What business is it of yours what I mean to do?” + +“You are going in for a drinking bout.” + +“How... how did you know?” + +“Why, it’s pretty plain.” + +Razumihin paused for a minute. + +“You always have been a very rational person and you’ve never been mad, +never,” he observed suddenly with warmth. “You’re right: I shall drink. +Good-bye!” + +And he moved to go out. + +“I was talking with my sister--the day before yesterday, I think it +was--about you, Razumihin.” + +“About me! But... where can you have seen her the day before yesterday?” + Razumihin stopped short and even turned a little pale. + +One could see that his heart was throbbing slowly and violently. + +“She came here by herself, sat there and talked to me.” + +“She did!” + +“Yes.” + +“What did you say to her... I mean, about me?” + +“I told her you were a very good, honest, and industrious man. I didn’t +tell her you love her, because she knows that herself.” + +“She knows that herself?” + +“Well, it’s pretty plain. Wherever I might go, whatever happened to me, +you would remain to look after them. I, so to speak, give them into your +keeping, Razumihin. I say this because I know quite well how you love +her, and am convinced of the purity of your heart. I know that she too +may love you and perhaps does love you already. Now decide for yourself, +as you know best, whether you need go in for a drinking bout or not.” + +“Rodya! You see... well.... Ach, damn it! But where do you mean to go? +Of course, if it’s all a secret, never mind.... But I... I shall find +out the secret... and I am sure that it must be some ridiculous nonsense +and that you’ve made it all up. Anyway you are a capital fellow, a +capital fellow!...” + +“That was just what I wanted to add, only you interrupted, that that was +a very good decision of yours not to find out these secrets. Leave it to +time, don’t worry about it. You’ll know it all in time when it must be. +Yesterday a man said to me that what a man needs is fresh air, fresh +air, fresh air. I mean to go to him directly to find out what he meant +by that.” + +Razumihin stood lost in thought and excitement, making a silent +conclusion. + +“He’s a political conspirator! He must be. And he’s on the eve of some +desperate step, that’s certain. It can only be that! And... and Dounia +knows,” he thought suddenly. + +“So Avdotya Romanovna comes to see you,” he said, weighing each +syllable, “and you’re going to see a man who says we need more air, and +so of course that letter... that too must have something to do with it,” + he concluded to himself. + +“What letter?” + +“She got a letter to-day. It upset her very much--very much indeed. Too +much so. I began speaking of you, she begged me not to. Then... then +she said that perhaps we should very soon have to part... then she began +warmly thanking me for something; then she went to her room and locked +herself in.” + +“She got a letter?” Raskolnikov asked thoughtfully. + +“Yes, and you didn’t know? hm...” + +They were both silent. + +“Good-bye, Rodion. There was a time, brother, when I.... Never mind, +good-bye. You see, there was a time.... Well, good-bye! I must be off +too. I am not going to drink. There’s no need now.... That’s all stuff!” + +He hurried out; but when he had almost closed the door behind him, he +suddenly opened it again, and said, looking away: + +“Oh, by the way, do you remember that murder, you know Porfiry’s, that +old woman? Do you know the murderer has been found, he has confessed +and given the proofs. It’s one of those very workmen, the painter, only +fancy! Do you remember I defended them here? Would you believe it, all +that scene of fighting and laughing with his companions on the stairs +while the porter and the two witnesses were going up, he got up on +purpose to disarm suspicion. The cunning, the presence of mind of the +young dog! One can hardly credit it; but it’s his own explanation, he +has confessed it all. And what a fool I was about it! Well, he’s simply +a genius of hypocrisy and resourcefulness in disarming the suspicions of +the lawyers--so there’s nothing much to wonder at, I suppose! Of course +people like that are always possible. And the fact that he couldn’t keep +up the character, but confessed, makes him easier to believe in. But +what a fool I was! I was frantic on their side!” + +“Tell me, please, from whom did you hear that, and why does it interest +you so?” Raskolnikov asked with unmistakable agitation. + +“What next? You ask me why it interests me!... Well, I heard it from +Porfiry, among others... It was from him I heard almost all about it.” + +“From Porfiry?” + +“From Porfiry.” + +“What... what did he say?” Raskolnikov asked in dismay. + +“He gave me a capital explanation of it. Psychologically, after his +fashion.” + +“He explained it? Explained it himself?” + +“Yes, yes; good-bye. I’ll tell you all about it another time, but now +I’m busy. There was a time when I fancied... But no matter, another +time!... What need is there for me to drink now? You have made me drunk +without wine. I am drunk, Rodya! Good-bye, I’m going. I’ll come again +very soon.” + +He went out. + +“He’s a political conspirator, there’s not a doubt about it,” Razumihin +decided, as he slowly descended the stairs. “And he’s drawn his sister +in; that’s quite, quite in keeping with Avdotya Romanovna’s character. +There are interviews between them!... She hinted at it too... So many of +her words.... and hints... bear that meaning! And how else can all this +tangle be explained? Hm! And I was almost thinking... Good heavens, +what I thought! Yes, I took leave of my senses and I wronged him! It was +his doing, under the lamp in the corridor that day. Pfoo! What a crude, +nasty, vile idea on my part! Nikolay is a brick, for confessing.... And +how clear it all is now! His illness then, all his strange actions... +before this, in the university, how morose he used to be, how gloomy.... +But what’s the meaning now of that letter? There’s something in that, +too, perhaps. Whom was it from? I suspect...! No, I must find out!” + +He thought of Dounia, realising all he had heard and his heart throbbed, +and he suddenly broke into a run. + +As soon as Razumihin went out, Raskolnikov got up, turned to the window, +walked into one corner and then into another, as though forgetting the +smallness of his room, and sat down again on the sofa. He felt, so to +speak, renewed; again the struggle, so a means of escape had come. + +“Yes, a means of escape had come! It had been too stifling, too +cramping, the burden had been too agonising. A lethargy had come upon +him at times. From the moment of the scene with Nikolay at Porfiry’s he +had been suffocating, penned in without hope of escape. After Nikolay’s +confession, on that very day had come the scene with Sonia; his +behaviour and his last words had been utterly unlike anything he +could have imagined beforehand; he had grown feebler, instantly and +fundamentally! And he had agreed at the time with Sonia, he had agreed +in his heart he could not go on living alone with such a thing on his +mind! + +“And Svidrigaïlov was a riddle... He worried him, that was true, but +somehow not on the same point. He might still have a struggle to come +with Svidrigaïlov. Svidrigaïlov, too, might be a means of escape; but +Porfiry was a different matter. + +“And so Porfiry himself had explained it to Razumihin, had explained it +_psychologically_. He had begun bringing in his damned psychology again! +Porfiry? But to think that Porfiry should for one moment believe that +Nikolay was guilty, after what had passed between them before Nikolay’s +appearance, after that tête-à-tête interview, which could have only +_one_ explanation? (During those days Raskolnikov had often recalled +passages in that scene with Porfiry; he could not bear to let his mind +rest on it.) Such words, such gestures had passed between them, they +had exchanged such glances, things had been said in such a tone and had +reached such a pass, that Nikolay, whom Porfiry had seen through at the +first word, at the first gesture, could not have shaken his conviction. + +“And to think that even Razumihin had begun to suspect! The scene in the +corridor under the lamp had produced its effect then. He had rushed to +Porfiry.... But what had induced the latter to receive him like that? +What had been his object in putting Razumihin off with Nikolay? He must +have some plan; there was some design, but what was it? It was true that +a long time had passed since that morning--too long a time--and no sight +nor sound of Porfiry. Well, that was a bad sign....” + +Raskolnikov took his cap and went out of the room, still pondering. It +was the first time for a long while that he had felt clear in his mind, +at least. “I must settle Svidrigaïlov,” he thought, “and as soon as +possible; he, too, seems to be waiting for me to come to him of my own +accord.” And at that moment there was such a rush of hate in his +weary heart that he might have killed either of those two--Porfiry or +Svidrigaïlov. At least he felt that he would be capable of doing it +later, if not now. + +“We shall see, we shall see,” he repeated to himself. + +But no sooner had he opened the door than he stumbled upon Porfiry +himself in the passage. He was coming in to see him. Raskolnikov was +dumbfounded for a minute, but only for one minute. Strange to say, he +was not very much astonished at seeing Porfiry and scarcely afraid of +him. He was simply startled, but was quickly, instantly, on his guard. +“Perhaps this will mean the end? But how could Porfiry have approached +so quietly, like a cat, so that he had heard nothing? Could he have been +listening at the door?” + +“You didn’t expect a visitor, Rodion Romanovitch,” Porfiry explained, +laughing. “I’ve been meaning to look in a long time; I was passing by +and thought why not go in for five minutes. Are you going out? I won’t +keep you long. Just let me have one cigarette.” + +“Sit down, Porfiry Petrovitch, sit down.” Raskolnikov gave his visitor +a seat with so pleased and friendly an expression that he would have +marvelled at himself, if he could have seen it. + +The last moment had come, the last drops had to be drained! So a man +will sometimes go through half an hour of mortal terror with a brigand, +yet when the knife is at his throat at last, he feels no fear. + +Raskolnikov seated himself directly facing Porfiry, and looked at him +without flinching. Porfiry screwed up his eyes and began lighting a +cigarette. + +“Speak, speak,” seemed as though it would burst from Raskolnikov’s +heart. “Come, why don’t you speak?” + + + +CHAPTER II + +“Ah these cigarettes!” Porfiry Petrovitch ejaculated at last, having +lighted one. “They are pernicious, positively pernicious, and yet I +can’t give them up! I cough, I begin to have tickling in my throat and +a difficulty in breathing. You know I am a coward, I went lately to +Dr. B----n; he always gives at least half an hour to each patient. He +positively laughed looking at me; he sounded me: ‘Tobacco’s bad for +you,’ he said, ‘your lungs are affected.’ But how am I to give it up? +What is there to take its place? I don’t drink, that’s the mischief, +he-he-he, that I don’t. Everything is relative, Rodion Romanovitch, +everything is relative!” + +“Why, he’s playing his professional tricks again,” Raskolnikov thought +with disgust. All the circumstances of their last interview suddenly +came back to him, and he felt a rush of the feeling that had come upon +him then. + +“I came to see you the day before yesterday, in the evening; you didn’t +know?” Porfiry Petrovitch went on, looking round the room. “I came into +this very room. I was passing by, just as I did to-day, and I thought +I’d return your call. I walked in as your door was wide open, I looked +round, waited and went out without leaving my name with your servant. +Don’t you lock your door?” + +Raskolnikov’s face grew more and more gloomy. Porfiry seemed to guess +his state of mind. + +“I’ve come to have it out with you, Rodion Romanovitch, my dear fellow! +I owe you an explanation and must give it to you,” he continued with a +slight smile, just patting Raskolnikov’s knee. + +But almost at the same instant a serious and careworn look came into his +face; to his surprise Raskolnikov saw a touch of sadness in it. He had +never seen and never suspected such an expression in his face. + +“A strange scene passed between us last time we met, Rodion Romanovitch. +Our first interview, too, was a strange one; but then... and one thing +after another! This is the point: I have perhaps acted unfairly to you; +I feel it. Do you remember how we parted? Your nerves were unhinged and +your knees were shaking and so were mine. And, you know, our behaviour +was unseemly, even ungentlemanly. And yet we are gentlemen, above all, +in any case, gentlemen; that must be understood. Do you remember what we +came to?... and it was quite indecorous.” + +“What is he up to, what does he take me for?” Raskolnikov asked himself +in amazement, raising his head and looking with open eyes on Porfiry. + +“I’ve decided openness is better between us,” Porfiry Petrovitch went +on, turning his head away and dropping his eyes, as though unwilling to +disconcert his former victim and as though disdaining his former wiles. +“Yes, such suspicions and such scenes cannot continue for long. Nikolay +put a stop to it, or I don’t know what we might not have come to. That +damned workman was sitting at the time in the next room--can you realise +that? You know that, of course; and I am aware that he came to you +afterwards. But what you supposed then was not true: I had not sent for +anyone, I had made no kind of arrangements. You ask why I hadn’t? What +shall I say to you? it had all come upon me so suddenly. I had scarcely +sent for the porters (you noticed them as you went out, I dare say). +An idea flashed upon me; I was firmly convinced at the time, you see, +Rodion Romanovitch. Come, I thought--even if I let one thing slip for +a time, I shall get hold of something else--I shan’t lose what I want, +anyway. You are nervously irritable, Rodion Romanovitch, by temperament; +it’s out of proportion with other qualities of your heart and character, +which I flatter myself I have to some extent divined. Of course I did +reflect even then that it does not always happen that a man gets up and +blurts out his whole story. It does happen sometimes, if you make a +man lose all patience, though even then it’s rare. I was capable of +realising that. If I only had a fact, I thought, the least little fact +to go upon, something I could lay hold of, something tangible, not +merely psychological. For if a man is guilty, you must be able to get +something substantial out of him; one may reckon upon most surprising +results indeed. I was reckoning on your temperament, Rodion Romanovitch, +on your temperament above all things! I had great hopes of you at that +time.” + +“But what are you driving at now?” Raskolnikov muttered at last, asking +the question without thinking. + +“What is he talking about?” he wondered distractedly, “does he really +take me to be innocent?” + +“What am I driving at? I’ve come to explain myself, I consider it my +duty, so to speak. I want to make clear to you how the whole business, +the whole misunderstanding arose. I’ve caused you a great deal of +suffering, Rodion Romanovitch. I am not a monster. I understand what +it must mean for a man who has been unfortunate, but who is proud, +imperious and above all, impatient, to have to bear such treatment! +I regard you in any case as a man of noble character and not without +elements of magnanimity, though I don’t agree with all your convictions. +I wanted to tell you this first, frankly and quite sincerely, for above +all I don’t want to deceive you. When I made your acquaintance, I felt +attracted by you. Perhaps you will laugh at my saying so. You have a +right to. I know you disliked me from the first and indeed you’ve no +reason to like me. You may think what you like, but I desire now to do +all I can to efface that impression and to show that I am a man of heart +and conscience. I speak sincerely.” + +Porfiry Petrovitch made a dignified pause. Raskolnikov felt a rush of +renewed alarm. The thought that Porfiry believed him to be innocent +began to make him uneasy. + +“It’s scarcely necessary to go over everything in detail,” Porfiry +Petrovitch went on. “Indeed, I could scarcely attempt it. To begin with +there were rumours. Through whom, how, and when those rumours came to +me... and how they affected you, I need not go into. My suspicions +were aroused by a complete accident, which might just as easily not have +happened. What was it? Hm! I believe there is no need to go into that +either. Those rumours and that accident led to one idea in my mind. I +admit it openly--for one may as well make a clean breast of it--I was +the first to pitch on you. The old woman’s notes on the pledges and +the rest of it--that all came to nothing. Yours was one of a hundred. +I happened, too, to hear of the scene at the office, from a man who +described it capitally, unconsciously reproducing the scene with great +vividness. It was just one thing after another, Rodion Romanovitch, my +dear fellow! How could I avoid being brought to certain ideas? From a +hundred rabbits you can’t make a horse, a hundred suspicions don’t make +a proof, as the English proverb says, but that’s only from the rational +point of view--you can’t help being partial, for after all a lawyer +is only human. I thought, too, of your article in that journal, do you +remember, on your first visit we talked of it? I jeered at you at the +time, but that was only to lead you on. I repeat, Rodion Romanovitch, +you are ill and impatient. That you were bold, headstrong, in earnest +and... had felt a great deal I recognised long before. I, too, have felt +the same, so that your article seemed familiar to me. It was conceived +on sleepless nights, with a throbbing heart, in ecstasy and suppressed +enthusiasm. And that proud suppressed enthusiasm in young people is +dangerous! I jeered at you then, but let me tell you that, as a literary +amateur, I am awfully fond of such first essays, full of the heat of +youth. There is a mistiness and a chord vibrating in the mist. Your +article is absurd and fantastic, but there’s a transparent sincerity, +a youthful incorruptible pride and the daring of despair in it. It’s a +gloomy article, but that’s what’s fine in it. I read your article and +put it aside, thinking as I did so ‘that man won’t go the common way.’ +Well, I ask you, after that as a preliminary, how could I help being +carried away by what followed? Oh, dear, I am not saying anything, I +am not making any statement now. I simply noted it at the time. What is +there in it? I reflected. There’s nothing in it, that is really nothing +and perhaps absolutely nothing. And it’s not at all the thing for +the prosecutor to let himself be carried away by notions: here I have +Nikolay on my hands with actual evidence against him--you may think what +you like of it, but it’s evidence. He brings in his psychology, too; one +has to consider him, too, for it’s a matter of life and death. Why am +I explaining this to you? That you may understand, and not blame my +malicious behaviour on that occasion. It was not malicious, I assure +you, he-he! Do you suppose I didn’t come to search your room at the +time? I did, I did, he-he! I was here when you were lying ill in bed, +not officially, not in my own person, but I was here. Your room was +searched to the last thread at the first suspicion; but _umsonst_! I +thought to myself, now that man will come, will come of himself and +quickly, too; if he’s guilty, he’s sure to come. Another man wouldn’t, +but he will. And you remember how Mr. Razumihin began discussing the +subject with you? We arranged that to excite you, so we purposely spread +rumours, that he might discuss the case with you, and Razumihin is not a +man to restrain his indignation. Mr. Zametov was tremendously struck by +your anger and your open daring. Think of blurting out in a restaurant +‘I killed her.’ It was too daring, too reckless. I thought so myself, if +he is guilty he will be a formidable opponent. That was what I thought +at the time. I was expecting you. But you simply bowled Zametov over +and... well, you see, it all lies in this--that this damnable psychology +can be taken two ways! Well, I kept expecting you, and so it was, you +came! My heart was fairly throbbing. Ach! + +“Now, why need you have come? Your laughter, too, as you came in, do you +remember? I saw it all plain as daylight, but if I hadn’t expected you +so specially, I should not have noticed anything in your laughter. You +see what influence a mood has! Mr. Razumihin then--ah, that stone, that +stone under which the things were hidden! I seem to see it somewhere +in a kitchen garden. It was in a kitchen garden, you told Zametov and +afterwards you repeated that in my office? And when we began picking +your article to pieces, how you explained it! One could take every word +of yours in two senses, as though there were another meaning hidden. + +“So in this way, Rodion Romanovitch, I reached the furthest limit, and +knocking my head against a post, I pulled myself up, asking myself what +I was about. After all, I said, you can take it all in another sense if +you like, and it’s more natural so, indeed. I couldn’t help admitting +it was more natural. I was bothered! ‘No, I’d better get hold of some +little fact’ I said. So when I heard of the bell-ringing, I held my +breath and was all in a tremor. ‘Here is my little fact,’ thought I, and +I didn’t think it over, I simply wouldn’t. I would have given a thousand +roubles at that minute to have seen you with my own eyes, when you +walked a hundred paces beside that workman, after he had called you +murderer to your face, and you did not dare to ask him a question +all the way. And then what about your trembling, what about your +bell-ringing in your illness, in semi-delirium? + +“And so, Rodion Romanovitch, can you wonder that I played such pranks on +you? And what made you come at that very minute? Someone seemed to +have sent you, by Jove! And if Nikolay had not parted us... and do you +remember Nikolay at the time? Do you remember him clearly? It was a +thunderbolt, a regular thunderbolt! And how I met him! I didn’t believe +in the thunderbolt, not for a minute. You could see it for yourself; +and how could I? Even afterwards, when you had gone and he began making +very, very plausible answers on certain points, so that I was surprised +at him myself, even then I didn’t believe his story! You see what it is +to be as firm as a rock! No, thought I, _Morgenfrüh_. What has Nikolay +got to do with it!” + +“Razumihin told me just now that you think Nikolay guilty and had +yourself assured him of it....” + +His voice failed him, and he broke off. He had been listening in +indescribable agitation, as this man who had seen through and through +him, went back upon himself. He was afraid of believing it and did not +believe it. In those still ambiguous words he kept eagerly looking for +something more definite and conclusive. + +“Mr. Razumihin!” cried Porfiry Petrovitch, seeming glad of a question +from Raskolnikov, who had till then been silent. “He-he-he! But I had to +put Mr. Razumihin off; two is company, three is none. Mr. Razumihin is +not the right man, besides he is an outsider. He came running to me +with a pale face.... But never mind him, why bring him in? To return +to Nikolay, would you like to know what sort of a type he is, how I +understand him, that is? To begin with, he is still a child and not +exactly a coward, but something by way of an artist. Really, don’t laugh +at my describing him so. He is innocent and responsive to influence. He +has a heart, and is a fantastic fellow. He sings and dances, he tells +stories, they say, so that people come from other villages to hear him. +He attends school too, and laughs till he cries if you hold up a finger +to him; he will drink himself senseless--not as a regular vice, but at +times, when people treat him, like a child. And he stole, too, then, +without knowing it himself, for ‘How can it be stealing, if one picks it +up?’ And do you know he is an Old Believer, or rather a dissenter? There +have been Wanderers[*] in his family, and he was for two years in his +village under the spiritual guidance of a certain elder. I learnt all +this from Nikolay and from his fellow villagers. And what’s more, he +wanted to run into the wilderness! He was full of fervour, prayed at +night, read the old books, ‘the true’ ones, and read himself crazy. + + [*] A religious sect.--TRANSLATOR’S NOTE. + +“Petersburg had a great effect upon him, especially the women and the +wine. He responds to everything and he forgot the elder and all that. I +learnt that an artist here took a fancy to him, and used to go and see +him, and now this business came upon him. + +“Well, he was frightened, he tried to hang himself! He ran away! How can +one get over the idea the people have of Russian legal proceedings? The +very word ‘trial’ frightens some of them. Whose fault is it? We shall +see what the new juries will do. God grant they do good! Well, in +prison, it seems, he remembered the venerable elder; the Bible, too, +made its appearance again. Do you know, Rodion Romanovitch, the force of +the word ‘suffering’ among some of these people! It’s not a question of +suffering for someone’s benefit, but simply, ‘one must suffer.’ If they +suffer at the hands of the authorities, so much the better. In my time +there was a very meek and mild prisoner who spent a whole year in prison +always reading his Bible on the stove at night and he read himself +crazy, and so crazy, do you know, that one day, apropos of nothing, he +seized a brick and flung it at the governor; though he had done him +no harm. And the way he threw it too: aimed it a yard on one side +on purpose, for fear of hurting him. Well, we know what happens to +a prisoner who assaults an officer with a weapon. So ‘he took his +suffering.’ + +“So I suspect now that Nikolay wants to take his suffering or something +of the sort. I know it for certain from facts, indeed. Only he doesn’t +know that I know. What, you don’t admit that there are such fantastic +people among the peasants? Lots of them. The elder now has begun +influencing him, especially since he tried to hang himself. But he’ll +come and tell me all himself. You think he’ll hold out? Wait a bit, +he’ll take his words back. I am waiting from hour to hour for him to +come and abjure his evidence. I have come to like that Nikolay and am +studying him in detail. And what do you think? He-he! He answered me +very plausibly on some points, he obviously had collected some evidence +and prepared himself cleverly. But on other points he is simply at sea, +knows nothing and doesn’t even suspect that he doesn’t know! + +“No, Rodion Romanovitch, Nikolay doesn’t come in! This is a fantastic, +gloomy business, a modern case, an incident of to-day when the heart +of man is troubled, when the phrase is quoted that blood ‘renews,’ when +comfort is preached as the aim of life. Here we have bookish dreams, a +heart unhinged by theories. Here we see resolution in the first stage, +but resolution of a special kind: he resolved to do it like jumping over +a precipice or from a bell tower and his legs shook as he went to the +crime. He forgot to shut the door after him, and murdered two people for +a theory. He committed the murder and couldn’t take the money, and what +he did manage to snatch up he hid under a stone. It wasn’t enough for +him to suffer agony behind the door while they battered at the door and +rung the bell, no, he had to go to the empty lodging, half delirious, to +recall the bell-ringing, he wanted to feel the cold shiver over again.... +Well, that we grant, was through illness, but consider this: he is +a murderer, but looks upon himself as an honest man, despises others, +poses as injured innocence. No, that’s not the work of a Nikolay, my +dear Rodion Romanovitch!” + +All that had been said before had sounded so like a recantation that +these words were too great a shock. Raskolnikov shuddered as though he +had been stabbed. + +“Then... who then... is the murderer?” he asked in a breathless voice, +unable to restrain himself. + +Porfiry Petrovitch sank back in his chair, as though he were amazed at +the question. + +“Who is the murderer?” he repeated, as though unable to believe his +ears. “Why, _you_, Rodion Romanovitch! You are the murderer,” he added, +almost in a whisper, in a voice of genuine conviction. + +Raskolnikov leapt from the sofa, stood up for a few seconds and sat down +again without uttering a word. His face twitched convulsively. + +“Your lip is twitching just as it did before,” Porfiry Petrovitch +observed almost sympathetically. “You’ve been misunderstanding me, I +think, Rodion Romanovitch,” he added after a brief pause, “that’s why +you are so surprised. I came on purpose to tell you everything and deal +openly with you.” + +“It was not I murdered her,” Raskolnikov whispered like a frightened +child caught in the act. + +“No, it was you, you Rodion Romanovitch, and no one else,” Porfiry +whispered sternly, with conviction. + +They were both silent and the silence lasted strangely long, about ten +minutes. Raskolnikov put his elbow on the table and passed his fingers +through his hair. Porfiry Petrovitch sat quietly waiting. Suddenly +Raskolnikov looked scornfully at Porfiry. + +“You are at your old tricks again, Porfiry Petrovitch! Your old method +again. I wonder you don’t get sick of it!” + +“Oh, stop that, what does that matter now? It would be a different +matter if there were witnesses present, but we are whispering alone. You +see yourself that I have not come to chase and capture you like a hare. +Whether you confess it or not is nothing to me now; for myself, I am +convinced without it.” + +“If so, what did you come for?” Raskolnikov asked irritably. “I ask you +the same question again: if you consider me guilty, why don’t you take +me to prison?” + +“Oh, that’s your question! I will answer you, point for point. In the +first place, to arrest you so directly is not to my interest.” + +“How so? If you are convinced you ought....” + +“Ach, what if I am convinced? That’s only my dream for the time. Why +should I put you in safety? You know that’s it, since you ask me to do +it. If I confront you with that workman for instance and you say to him +‘were you drunk or not? Who saw me with you? I simply took you to be +drunk, and you were drunk, too.’ Well, what could I answer, especially +as your story is a more likely one than his? for there’s nothing but +psychology to support his evidence--that’s almost unseemly with his ugly +mug, while you hit the mark exactly, for the rascal is an inveterate +drunkard and notoriously so. And I have myself admitted candidly several +times already that that psychology can be taken in two ways and that the +second way is stronger and looks far more probable, and that apart from +that I have as yet nothing against you. And though I shall put you in +prison and indeed have come--quite contrary to etiquette--to inform you +of it beforehand, yet I tell you frankly, also contrary to etiquette, +that it won’t be to my advantage. Well, secondly, I’ve come to you +because...” + +“Yes, yes, secondly?” Raskolnikov was listening breathless. + +“Because, as I told you just now, I consider I owe you an explanation. I +don’t want you to look upon me as a monster, as I have a genuine liking +for you, you may believe me or not. And in the third place I’ve come to +you with a direct and open proposition--that you should surrender +and confess. It will be infinitely more to your advantage and to my +advantage too, for my task will be done. Well, is this open on my part +or not?” + +Raskolnikov thought a minute. + +“Listen, Porfiry Petrovitch. You said just now you have nothing but +psychology to go on, yet now you’ve gone on mathematics. Well, what if +you are mistaken yourself, now?” + +“No, Rodion Romanovitch, I am not mistaken. I have a little fact even +then, Providence sent it me.” + +“What little fact?” + +“I won’t tell you what, Rodion Romanovitch. And in any case, I haven’t +the right to put it off any longer, I must arrest you. So think it over: +it makes no difference to me _now_ and so I speak only for your sake. +Believe me, it will be better, Rodion Romanovitch.” + +Raskolnikov smiled malignantly. + +“That’s not simply ridiculous, it’s positively shameless. Why, even if I +were guilty, which I don’t admit, what reason should I have to confess, +when you tell me yourself that I shall be in greater safety in prison?” + +“Ah, Rodion Romanovitch, don’t put too much faith in words, perhaps +prison will not be altogether a restful place. That’s only theory and +my theory, and what authority am I for you? Perhaps, too, even now I am +hiding something from you? I can’t lay bare everything, he-he! And how +can you ask what advantage? Don’t you know how it would lessen your +sentence? You would be confessing at a moment when another man has taken +the crime on himself and so has muddled the whole case. Consider that! I +swear before God that I will so arrange that your confession shall +come as a complete surprise. We will make a clean sweep of all these +psychological points, of a suspicion against you, so that your crime +will appear to have been something like an aberration, for in truth it +was an aberration. I am an honest man, Rodion Romanovitch, and will keep +my word.” + +Raskolnikov maintained a mournful silence and let his head sink +dejectedly. He pondered a long while and at last smiled again, but his +smile was sad and gentle. + +“No!” he said, apparently abandoning all attempt to keep up appearances +with Porfiry, “it’s not worth it, I don’t care about lessening the +sentence!” + +“That’s just what I was afraid of!” Porfiry cried warmly and, as it +seemed, involuntarily. “That’s just what I feared, that you wouldn’t +care about the mitigation of sentence.” + +Raskolnikov looked sadly and expressively at him. + +“Ah, don’t disdain life!” Porfiry went on. “You have a great deal of +it still before you. How can you say you don’t want a mitigation of +sentence? You are an impatient fellow!” + +“A great deal of what lies before me?” + +“Of life. What sort of prophet are you, do you know much about it? Seek +and ye shall find. This may be God’s means for bringing you to Him. And +it’s not for ever, the bondage....” + +“The time will be shortened,” laughed Raskolnikov. + +“Why, is it the bourgeois disgrace you are afraid of? It may be that you +are afraid of it without knowing it, because you are young! But anyway +_you_ shouldn’t be afraid of giving yourself up and confessing.” + +“Ach, hang it!” Raskolnikov whispered with loathing and contempt, as +though he did not want to speak aloud. + +He got up again as though he meant to go away, but sat down again in +evident despair. + +“Hang it, if you like! You’ve lost faith and you think that I am +grossly flattering you; but how long has your life been? How much do +you understand? You made up a theory and then were ashamed that it broke +down and turned out to be not at all original! It turned out something +base, that’s true, but you are not hopelessly base. By no means so base! +At least you didn’t deceive yourself for long, you went straight to the +furthest point at one bound. How do I regard you? I regard you as one +of those men who would stand and smile at their torturer while he cuts +their entrails out, if only they have found faith or God. Find it and +you will live. You have long needed a change of air. Suffering, too, +is a good thing. Suffer! Maybe Nikolay is right in wanting to suffer. +I know you don’t believe in it--but don’t be over-wise; fling yourself +straight into life, without deliberation; don’t be afraid--the flood +will bear you to the bank and set you safe on your feet again. What +bank? How can I tell? I only believe that you have long life before +you. I know that you take all my words now for a set speech prepared +beforehand, but maybe you will remember them after. They may be of use +some time. That’s why I speak. It’s as well that you only killed the +old woman. If you’d invented another theory you might perhaps have +done something a thousand times more hideous. You ought to thank God, +perhaps. How do you know? Perhaps God is saving you for something. +But keep a good heart and have less fear! Are you afraid of the great +expiation before you? No, it would be shameful to be afraid of it. Since +you have taken such a step, you must harden your heart. There is justice +in it. You must fulfil the demands of justice. I know that you don’t +believe it, but indeed, life will bring you through. You will live it +down in time. What you need now is fresh air, fresh air, fresh air!” + +Raskolnikov positively started. + +“But who are you? what prophet are you? From the height of what majestic +calm do you proclaim these words of wisdom?” + +“Who am I? I am a man with nothing to hope for, that’s all. A man +perhaps of feeling and sympathy, maybe of some knowledge too, but my day +is over. But you are a different matter, there is life waiting for you. +Though, who knows? maybe your life, too, will pass off in smoke and come +to nothing. Come, what does it matter, that you will pass into another +class of men? It’s not comfort you regret, with your heart! What of +it that perhaps no one will see you for so long? It’s not time, but +yourself that will decide that. Be the sun and all will see you. The +sun has before all to be the sun. Why are you smiling again? At my being +such a Schiller? I bet you’re imagining that I am trying to get round +you by flattery. Well, perhaps I am, he-he-he! Perhaps you’d better not +believe my word, perhaps you’d better never believe it altogether--I’m +made that way, I confess it. But let me add, you can judge for yourself, +I think, how far I am a base sort of man and how far I am honest.” + +“When do you mean to arrest me?” + +“Well, I can let you walk about another day or two. Think it over, my +dear fellow, and pray to God. It’s more in your interest, believe me.” + +“And what if I run away?” asked Raskolnikov with a strange smile. + +“No, you won’t run away. A peasant would run away, a fashionable +dissenter would run away, the flunkey of another man’s thought, for +you’ve only to show him the end of your little finger and he’ll be ready +to believe in anything for the rest of his life. But you’ve ceased to +believe in your theory already, what will you run away with? And what +would you do in hiding? It would be hateful and difficult for you, and +what you need more than anything in life is a definite position, an +atmosphere to suit you. And what sort of atmosphere would you have? If +you ran away, you’d come back to yourself. _You can’t get on without +us._ And if I put you in prison--say you’ve been there a month, or two, +or three--remember my word, you’ll confess of yourself and perhaps to +your own surprise. You won’t know an hour beforehand that you are coming +with a confession. I am convinced that you will decide, ‘to take your +suffering.’ You don’t believe my words now, but you’ll come to it of +yourself. For suffering, Rodion Romanovitch, is a great thing. Never +mind my having grown fat, I know all the same. Don’t laugh at it, +there’s an idea in suffering, Nikolay is right. No, you won’t run away, +Rodion Romanovitch.” + +Raskolnikov got up and took his cap. Porfiry Petrovitch also rose. + +“Are you going for a walk? The evening will be fine, if only we don’t +have a storm. Though it would be a good thing to freshen the air.” + +He, too, took his cap. + +“Porfiry Petrovitch, please don’t take up the notion that I have +confessed to you to-day,” Raskolnikov pronounced with sullen insistence. +“You’re a strange man and I have listened to you from simple curiosity. +But I have admitted nothing, remember that!” + +“Oh, I know that, I’ll remember. Look at him, he’s trembling! Don’t +be uneasy, my dear fellow, have it your own way. Walk about a bit, you +won’t be able to walk too far. If anything happens, I have one request +to make of you,” he added, dropping his voice. “It’s an awkward one, but +important. If anything were to happen (though indeed I don’t believe +in it and think you quite incapable of it), yet in case you were taken +during these forty or fifty hours with the notion of putting an end to +the business in some other way, in some fantastic fashion--laying hands +on yourself--(it’s an absurd proposition, but you must forgive me for +it) do leave a brief but precise note, only two lines, and mention the +stone. It will be more generous. Come, till we meet! Good thoughts and +sound decisions to you!” + +Porfiry went out, stooping and avoiding looking at Raskolnikov. The +latter went to the window and waited with irritable impatience till he +calculated that Porfiry had reached the street and moved away. Then he +too went hurriedly out of the room. + + + +CHAPTER III + +He hurried to Svidrigaïlov’s. What he had to hope from that man he +did not know. But that man had some hidden power over him. Having once +recognised this, he could not rest, and now the time had come. + +On the way, one question particularly worried him: had Svidrigaïlov been +to Porfiry’s? + +As far as he could judge, he would swear to it, that he had not. He +pondered again and again, went over Porfiry’s visit; no, he hadn’t been, +of course he hadn’t. + +But if he had not been yet, would he go? Meanwhile, for the present he +fancied he couldn’t. Why? He could not have explained, but if he could, +he would not have wasted much thought over it at the moment. It all +worried him and at the same time he could not attend to it. Strange to +say, none would have believed it perhaps, but he only felt a faint vague +anxiety about his immediate future. Another, much more important anxiety +tormented him--it concerned himself, but in a different, more vital way. +Moreover, he was conscious of immense moral fatigue, though his mind was +working better that morning than it had done of late. + +And was it worth while, after all that had happened, to contend with +these new trivial difficulties? Was it worth while, for instance, to +manoeuvre that Svidrigaïlov should not go to Porfiry’s? Was it worth +while to investigate, to ascertain the facts, to waste time over anyone +like Svidrigaïlov? + +Oh, how sick he was of it all! + +And yet he was hastening to Svidrigaïlov; could he be expecting +something _new_ from him, information, or means of escape? Men will +catch at straws! Was it destiny or some instinct bringing them together? +Perhaps it was only fatigue, despair; perhaps it was not Svidrigaïlov +but some other whom he needed, and Svidrigaïlov had simply presented +himself by chance. Sonia? But what should he go to Sonia for now? To beg +her tears again? He was afraid of Sonia, too. Sonia stood before him as +an irrevocable sentence. He must go his own way or hers. At that moment +especially he did not feel equal to seeing her. No, would it not be +better to try Svidrigaïlov? And he could not help inwardly owning that +he had long felt that he must see him for some reason. + +But what could they have in common? Their very evil-doing could not +be of the same kind. The man, moreover, was very unpleasant, evidently +depraved, undoubtedly cunning and deceitful, possibly malignant. Such +stories were told about him. It is true he was befriending Katerina +Ivanovna’s children, but who could tell with what motive and what it +meant? The man always had some design, some project. + +There was another thought which had been continually hovering of late +about Raskolnikov’s mind, and causing him great uneasiness. It was so +painful that he made distinct efforts to get rid of it. He sometimes +thought that Svidrigaïlov was dogging his footsteps. Svidrigaïlov had +found out his secret and had had designs on Dounia. What if he had them +still? Wasn’t it practically certain that he had? And what if, having +learnt his secret and so having gained power over him, he were to use it +as a weapon against Dounia? + +This idea sometimes even tormented his dreams, but it had never +presented itself so vividly to him as on his way to Svidrigaïlov. +The very thought moved him to gloomy rage. To begin with, this would +transform everything, even his own position; he would have at once to +confess his secret to Dounia. Would he have to give himself up perhaps +to prevent Dounia from taking some rash step? The letter? This morning +Dounia had received a letter. From whom could she get letters in +Petersburg? Luzhin, perhaps? It’s true Razumihin was there to protect +her, but Razumihin knew nothing of the position. Perhaps it was his duty +to tell Razumihin? He thought of it with repugnance. + +In any case he must see Svidrigaïlov as soon as possible, he decided +finally. Thank God, the details of the interview were of little +consequence, if only he could get at the root of the matter; but +if Svidrigaïlov were capable... if he were intriguing against +Dounia--then... + +Raskolnikov was so exhausted by what he had passed through that month +that he could only decide such questions in one way; “then I shall kill +him,” he thought in cold despair. + +A sudden anguish oppressed his heart, he stood still in the middle of +the street and began looking about to see where he was and which way he +was going. He found himself in X. Prospect, thirty or forty paces from +the Hay Market, through which he had come. The whole second storey of +the house on the left was used as a tavern. All the windows were wide +open; judging from the figures moving at the windows, the rooms were +full to overflowing. There were sounds of singing, of clarionet and +violin, and the boom of a Turkish drum. He could hear women shrieking. +He was about to turn back wondering why he had come to the X. Prospect, +when suddenly at one of the end windows he saw Svidrigaïlov, sitting +at a tea-table right in the open window with a pipe in his mouth. +Raskolnikov was dreadfully taken aback, almost terrified. Svidrigaïlov +was silently watching and scrutinising him and, what struck Raskolnikov +at once, seemed to be meaning to get up and slip away unobserved. +Raskolnikov at once pretended not to have seen him, but to be looking +absent-mindedly away, while he watched him out of the corner of his eye. +His heart was beating violently. Yet, it was evident that Svidrigaïlov +did not want to be seen. He took the pipe out of his mouth and was on +the point of concealing himself, but as he got up and moved back his +chair, he seemed to have become suddenly aware that Raskolnikov had seen +him, and was watching him. What had passed between them was much the +same as what happened at their first meeting in Raskolnikov’s room. A +sly smile came into Svidrigaïlov’s face and grew broader and +broader. Each knew that he was seen and watched by the other. At last +Svidrigaïlov broke into a loud laugh. + +“Well, well, come in if you want me; I am here!” he shouted from the +window. + +Raskolnikov went up into the tavern. He found Svidrigaïlov in a tiny +back room, adjoining the saloon in which merchants, clerks and numbers +of people of all sorts were drinking tea at twenty little tables to the +desperate bawling of a chorus of singers. The click of billiard balls +could be heard in the distance. On the table before Svidrigaïlov stood +an open bottle and a glass half full of champagne. In the room he found +also a boy with a little hand organ, a healthy-looking red-cheeked girl +of eighteen, wearing a tucked-up striped skirt, and a Tyrolese hat with +ribbons. In spite of the chorus in the other room, she was singing some +servants’ hall song in a rather husky contralto, to the accompaniment of +the organ. + +“Come, that’s enough,” Svidrigaïlov stopped her at Raskolnikov’s +entrance. The girl at once broke off and stood waiting respectfully. +She had sung her guttural rhymes, too, with a serious and respectful +expression in her face. + +“Hey, Philip, a glass!” shouted Svidrigaïlov. + +“I won’t drink anything,” said Raskolnikov. + +“As you like, I didn’t mean it for you. Drink, Katia! I don’t want +anything more to-day, you can go.” He poured her out a full glass, and +laid down a yellow note. + +Katia drank off her glass of wine, as women do, without putting it down, +in twenty gulps, took the note and kissed Svidrigaïlov’s hand, which he +allowed quite seriously. She went out of the room and the boy trailed +after her with the organ. Both had been brought in from the street. +Svidrigaïlov had not been a week in Petersburg, but everything about him +was already, so to speak, on a patriarchal footing; the waiter, Philip, +was by now an old friend and very obsequious. + +The door leading to the saloon had a lock on it. Svidrigaïlov was at +home in this room and perhaps spent whole days in it. The tavern was +dirty and wretched, not even second-rate. + +“I was going to see you and looking for you,” Raskolnikov began, “but +I don’t know what made me turn from the Hay Market into the X. Prospect +just now. I never take this turning. I turn to the right from the Hay +Market. And this isn’t the way to you. I simply turned and here you are. +It is strange!” + +“Why don’t you say at once ‘it’s a miracle’?” + +“Because it may be only chance.” + +“Oh, that’s the way with all you folk,” laughed Svidrigaïlov. “You won’t +admit it, even if you do inwardly believe it a miracle! Here you say +that it may be only chance. And what cowards they all are here, about +having an opinion of their own, you can’t fancy, Rodion Romanovitch. I +don’t mean you, you have an opinion of your own and are not afraid to +have it. That’s how it was you attracted my curiosity.” + +“Nothing else?” + +“Well, that’s enough, you know,” Svidrigaïlov was obviously exhilarated, +but only slightly so, he had not had more than half a glass of wine. + +“I fancy you came to see me before you knew that I was capable of having +what you call an opinion of my own,” observed Raskolnikov. + +“Oh, well, it was a different matter. Everyone has his own plans. And +apropos of the miracle let me tell you that I think you have been asleep +for the last two or three days. I told you of this tavern myself, there +is no miracle in your coming straight here. I explained the way myself, +told you where it was, and the hours you could find me here. Do you +remember?” + +“I don’t remember,” answered Raskolnikov with surprise. + +“I believe you. I told you twice. The address has been stamped +mechanically on your memory. You turned this way mechanically and yet +precisely according to the direction, though you are not aware of +it. When I told you then, I hardly hoped you understood me. You give +yourself away too much, Rodion Romanovitch. And another thing, I’m +convinced there are lots of people in Petersburg who talk to themselves +as they walk. This is a town of crazy people. If only we had scientific +men, doctors, lawyers and philosophers might make most valuable +investigations in Petersburg each in his own line. There are few places +where there are so many gloomy, strong and queer influences on the soul +of man as in Petersburg. The mere influences of climate mean so much. +And it’s the administrative centre of all Russia and its character must +be reflected on the whole country. But that is neither here nor there +now. The point is that I have several times watched you. You walk out +of your house--holding your head high--twenty paces from home you let it +sink, and fold your hands behind your back. You look and evidently see +nothing before nor beside you. At last you begin moving your lips and +talking to yourself, and sometimes you wave one hand and declaim, and at +last stand still in the middle of the road. That’s not at all the thing. +Someone may be watching you besides me, and it won’t do you any good. +It’s nothing really to do with me and I can’t cure you, but, of course, +you understand me.” + +“Do you know that I am being followed?” asked Raskolnikov, looking +inquisitively at him. + +“No, I know nothing about it,” said Svidrigaïlov, seeming surprised. + +“Well, then, let us leave me alone,” Raskolnikov muttered, frowning. + +“Very good, let us leave you alone.” + +“You had better tell me, if you come here to drink, and directed me +twice to come here to you, why did you hide, and try to get away just +now when I looked at the window from the street? I saw it.” + +“He-he! And why was it you lay on your sofa with closed eyes and +pretended to be asleep, though you were wide awake while I stood in your +doorway? I saw it.” + +“I may have had... reasons. You know that yourself.” + +“And I may have had my reasons, though you don’t know them.” + +Raskolnikov dropped his right elbow on the table, leaned his chin in the +fingers of his right hand, and stared intently at Svidrigaïlov. For a +full minute he scrutinised his face, which had impressed him before. It +was a strange face, like a mask; white and red, with bright red lips, +with a flaxen beard, and still thick flaxen hair. His eyes were somehow +too blue and their expression somehow too heavy and fixed. There was +something awfully unpleasant in that handsome face, which looked so +wonderfully young for his age. Svidrigaïlov was smartly dressed in light +summer clothes and was particularly dainty in his linen. He wore a huge +ring with a precious stone in it. + +“Have I got to bother myself about you, too, now?” said Raskolnikov +suddenly, coming with nervous impatience straight to the point. “Even +though perhaps you are the most dangerous man if you care to injure me, +I don’t want to put myself out any more. I will show you at once that I +don’t prize myself as you probably think I do. I’ve come to tell you at +once that if you keep to your former intentions with regard to my sister +and if you think to derive any benefit in that direction from what has +been discovered of late, I will kill you before you get me locked up. +You can reckon on my word. You know that I can keep it. And in the +second place if you want to tell me anything--for I keep fancying all +this time that you have something to tell me--make haste and tell it, +for time is precious and very likely it will soon be too late.” + +“Why in such haste?” asked Svidrigaïlov, looking at him curiously. + +“Everyone has his plans,” Raskolnikov answered gloomily and impatiently. + +“You urged me yourself to frankness just now, and at the first question +you refuse to answer,” Svidrigaïlov observed with a smile. “You +keep fancying that I have aims of my own and so you look at me with +suspicion. Of course it’s perfectly natural in your position. But +though I should like to be friends with you, I shan’t trouble myself +to convince you of the contrary. The game isn’t worth the candle and I +wasn’t intending to talk to you about anything special.” + +“What did you want me, for, then? It was you who came hanging about me.” + +“Why, simply as an interesting subject for observation. I liked the +fantastic nature of your position--that’s what it was! Besides you are +the brother of a person who greatly interested me, and from that person +I had in the past heard a very great deal about you, from which I +gathered that you had a great influence over her; isn’t that enough? +Ha-ha-ha! Still I must admit that your question is rather complex, and +is difficult for me to answer. Here, you, for instance, have come to me +not only for a definite object, but for the sake of hearing something +new. Isn’t that so? Isn’t that so?” persisted Svidrigaïlov with a sly +smile. “Well, can’t you fancy then that I, too, on my way here in the +train was reckoning on you, on your telling me something new, and on my +making some profit out of you! You see what rich men we are!” + +“What profit could you make?” + +“How can I tell you? How do I know? You see in what a tavern I spend all +my time and it’s my enjoyment, that’s to say it’s no great enjoyment, +but one must sit somewhere; that poor Katia now--you saw her?... If only +I had been a glutton now, a club gourmand, but you see I can eat this.” + +He pointed to a little table in the corner where the remnants of a +terrible-looking beef-steak and potatoes lay on a tin dish. + +“Have you dined, by the way? I’ve had something and want nothing more. +I don’t drink, for instance, at all. Except for champagne I never touch +anything, and not more than a glass of that all the evening, and even +that is enough to make my head ache. I ordered it just now to wind +myself up, for I am just going off somewhere and you see me in a +peculiar state of mind. That was why I hid myself just now like a +schoolboy, for I was afraid you would hinder me. But I believe,” he +pulled out his watch, “I can spend an hour with you. It’s half-past +four now. If only I’d been something, a landowner, a father, a cavalry +officer, a photographer, a journalist... I am nothing, no specialty, +and sometimes I am positively bored. I really thought you would tell me +something new.” + +“But what are you, and why have you come here?” + +“What am I? You know, a gentleman, I served for two years in the +cavalry, then I knocked about here in Petersburg, then I married Marfa +Petrovna and lived in the country. There you have my biography!” + +“You are a gambler, I believe?” + +“No, a poor sort of gambler. A card-sharper--not a gambler.” + +“You have been a card-sharper then?” + +“Yes, I’ve been a card-sharper too.” + +“Didn’t you get thrashed sometimes?” + +“It did happen. Why?” + +“Why, you might have challenged them... altogether it must have been +lively.” + +“I won’t contradict you, and besides I am no hand at philosophy. I +confess that I hastened here for the sake of the women.” + +“As soon as you buried Marfa Petrovna?” + +“Quite so,” Svidrigaïlov smiled with engaging candour. “What of it? You +seem to find something wrong in my speaking like that about women?” + +“You ask whether I find anything wrong in vice?” + +“Vice! Oh, that’s what you are after! But I’ll answer you in order, +first about women in general; you know I am fond of talking. Tell me, +what should I restrain myself for? Why should I give up women, since I +have a passion for them? It’s an occupation, anyway.” + +“So you hope for nothing here but vice?” + +“Oh, very well, for vice then. You insist on its being vice. But anyway +I like a direct question. In this vice at least there is something +permanent, founded indeed upon nature and not dependent on fantasy, +something present in the blood like an ever-burning ember, for ever +setting one on fire and, maybe, not to be quickly extinguished, even +with years. You’ll agree it’s an occupation of a sort.” + +“That’s nothing to rejoice at, it’s a disease and a dangerous one.” + +“Oh, that’s what you think, is it! I agree, that it is a disease like +everything that exceeds moderation. And, of course, in this one must +exceed moderation. But in the first place, everybody does so in one way +or another, and in the second place, of course, one ought to be moderate +and prudent, however mean it may be, but what am I to do? If I hadn’t +this, I might have to shoot myself. I am ready to admit that a decent +man ought to put up with being bored, but yet...” + +“And could you shoot yourself?” + +“Oh, come!” Svidrigaïlov parried with disgust. “Please don’t speak of +it,” he added hurriedly and with none of the bragging tone he had shown +in all the previous conversation. His face quite changed. “I admit it’s +an unpardonable weakness, but I can’t help it. I am afraid of death and +I dislike its being talked of. Do you know that I am to a certain extent +a mystic?” + +“Ah, the apparitions of Marfa Petrovna! Do they still go on visiting +you?” + +“Oh, don’t talk of them; there have been no more in Petersburg, confound +them!” he cried with an air of irritation. “Let’s rather talk of that... +though... H’m! I have not much time, and can’t stay long with you, +it’s a pity! I should have found plenty to tell you.” + +“What’s your engagement, a woman?” + +“Yes, a woman, a casual incident.... No, that’s not what I want to talk +of.” + +“And the hideousness, the filthiness of all your surroundings, doesn’t +that affect you? Have you lost the strength to stop yourself?” + +“And do you pretend to strength, too? He-he-he! You surprised me just +now, Rodion Romanovitch, though I knew beforehand it would be so. +You preach to me about vice and æsthetics! You--a Schiller, you--an +idealist! Of course that’s all as it should be and it would be +surprising if it were not so, yet it is strange in reality.... Ah, +what a pity I have no time, for you’re a most interesting type! And, +by-the-way, are you fond of Schiller? I am awfully fond of him.” + +“But what a braggart you are,” Raskolnikov said with some disgust. + +“Upon my word, I am not,” answered Svidrigaïlov laughing. “However, I +won’t dispute it, let me be a braggart, why not brag, if it hurts no +one? I spent seven years in the country with Marfa Petrovna, so now when +I come across an intelligent person like you--intelligent and highly +interesting--I am simply glad to talk and, besides, I’ve drunk that +half-glass of champagne and it’s gone to my head a little. And besides, +there’s a certain fact that has wound me up tremendously, but about that +I... will keep quiet. Where are you off to?” he asked in alarm. + +Raskolnikov had begun getting up. He felt oppressed and stifled and, +as it were, ill at ease at having come here. He felt convinced that +Svidrigaïlov was the most worthless scoundrel on the face of the earth. + +“A-ach! Sit down, stay a little!” Svidrigaïlov begged. “Let them bring +you some tea, anyway. Stay a little, I won’t talk nonsense, about +myself, I mean. I’ll tell you something. If you like I’ll tell you how a +woman tried ‘to save’ me, as you would call it? It will be an answer to +your first question indeed, for the woman was your sister. May I tell +you? It will help to spend the time.” + +“Tell me, but I trust that you...” + +“Oh, don’t be uneasy. Besides, even in a worthless low fellow like me, +Avdotya Romanovna can only excite the deepest respect.” + + + +CHAPTER IV + +“You know perhaps--yes, I told you myself,” began Svidrigaïlov, “that +I was in the debtors’ prison here, for an immense sum, and had not +any expectation of being able to pay it. There’s no need to go into +particulars how Marfa Petrovna bought me out; do you know to what a +point of insanity a woman can sometimes love? She was an honest woman, +and very sensible, although completely uneducated. Would you believe +that this honest and jealous woman, after many scenes of hysterics and +reproaches, condescended to enter into a kind of contract with me which +she kept throughout our married life? She was considerably older than +I, and besides, she always kept a clove or something in her mouth. There +was so much swinishness in my soul and honesty too, of a sort, as to +tell her straight out that I couldn’t be absolutely faithful to her. +This confession drove her to frenzy, but yet she seems in a way to have +liked my brutal frankness. She thought it showed I was unwilling to +deceive her if I warned her like this beforehand and for a jealous +woman, you know, that’s the first consideration. After many tears an +unwritten contract was drawn up between us: first, that I would never +leave Marfa Petrovna and would always be her husband; secondly, that I +would never absent myself without her permission; thirdly, that I would +never set up a permanent mistress; fourthly, in return for this, Marfa +Petrovna gave me a free hand with the maidservants, but only with her +secret knowledge; fifthly, God forbid my falling in love with a woman of +our class; sixthly, in case I--which God forbid--should be visited by +a great serious passion I was bound to reveal it to Marfa Petrovna. On +this last score, however, Marfa Petrovna was fairly at ease. She was a +sensible woman and so she could not help looking upon me as a dissolute +profligate incapable of real love. But a sensible woman and a jealous +woman are two very different things, and that’s where the trouble +came in. But to judge some people impartially we must renounce certain +preconceived opinions and our habitual attitude to the ordinary people +about us. I have reason to have faith in your judgment rather than +in anyone’s. Perhaps you have already heard a great deal that was +ridiculous and absurd about Marfa Petrovna. She certainly had some very +ridiculous ways, but I tell you frankly that I feel really sorry for the +innumerable woes of which I was the cause. Well, and that’s enough, I +think, by way of a decorous _oraison funèbre_ for the most tender wife +of a most tender husband. When we quarrelled, I usually held my tongue +and did not irritate her and that gentlemanly conduct rarely failed to +attain its object, it influenced her, it pleased her, indeed. These were +times when she was positively proud of me. But your sister she couldn’t +put up with, anyway. And however she came to risk taking such a +beautiful creature into her house as a governess. My explanation is that +Marfa Petrovna was an ardent and impressionable woman and simply fell +in love herself--literally fell in love--with your sister. Well, little +wonder--look at Avdotya Romanovna! I saw the danger at the first glance +and what do you think, I resolved not to look at her even. But Avdotya +Romanovna herself made the first step, would you believe it? Would you +believe it too that Marfa Petrovna was positively angry with me at first +for my persistent silence about your sister, for my careless reception +of her continual adoring praises of Avdotya Romanovna. I don’t know +what it was she wanted! Well, of course, Marfa Petrovna told Avdotya +Romanovna every detail about me. She had the unfortunate habit of +telling literally everyone all our family secrets and continually +complaining of me; how could she fail to confide in such a delightful +new friend? I expect they talked of nothing else but me and no doubt +Avdotya Romanovna heard all those dark mysterious rumours that were +current about me.... I don’t mind betting that you too have heard +something of the sort already?” + +“I have. Luzhin charged you with having caused the death of a child. Is +that true?” + +“Don’t refer to those vulgar tales, I beg,” said Svidrigaïlov with +disgust and annoyance. “If you insist on wanting to know about all that +idiocy, I will tell you one day, but now...” + +“I was told too about some footman of yours in the country whom you +treated badly.” + +“I beg you to drop the subject,” Svidrigaïlov interrupted again with +obvious impatience. + +“Was that the footman who came to you after death to fill your pipe?... +you told me about it yourself.” Raskolnikov felt more and more +irritated. + +Svidrigaïlov looked at him attentively and Raskolnikov fancied he caught +a flash of spiteful mockery in that look. But Svidrigaïlov restrained +himself and answered very civilly: + +“Yes, it was. I see that you, too, are extremely interested and shall +feel it my duty to satisfy your curiosity at the first opportunity. Upon +my soul! I see that I really might pass for a romantic figure with +some people. Judge how grateful I must be to Marfa Petrovna for having +repeated to Avdotya Romanovna such mysterious and interesting gossip +about me. I dare not guess what impression it made on her, but in any +case it worked in my interests. With all Avdotya Romanovna’s natural +aversion and in spite of my invariably gloomy and repellent aspect--she +did at least feel pity for me, pity for a lost soul. And if once a +girl’s heart is moved to _pity_, it’s more dangerous than anything. She +is bound to want to ‘save him,’ to bring him to his senses, and lift +him up and draw him to nobler aims, and restore him to new life and +usefulness--well, we all know how far such dreams can go. I saw at once +that the bird was flying into the cage of herself. And I too made ready. +I think you are frowning, Rodion Romanovitch? There’s no need. As you +know, it all ended in smoke. (Hang it all, what a lot I am drinking!) +Do you know, I always, from the very beginning, regretted that it wasn’t +your sister’s fate to be born in the second or third century A.D., as +the daughter of a reigning prince or some governor or pro-consul in Asia +Minor. She would undoubtedly have been one of those who would endure +martyrdom and would have smiled when they branded her bosom with hot +pincers. And she would have gone to it of herself. And in the fourth or +fifth century she would have walked away into the Egyptian desert and +would have stayed there thirty years living on roots and ecstasies and +visions. She is simply thirsting to face some torture for someone, and +if she can’t get her torture, she’ll throw herself out of a window. I’ve +heard something of a Mr. Razumihin--he’s said to be a sensible fellow; +his surname suggests it, indeed. He’s probably a divinity student. Well, +he’d better look after your sister! I believe I understand her, and I am +proud of it. But at the beginning of an acquaintance, as you know, one +is apt to be more heedless and stupid. One doesn’t see clearly. Hang it +all, why is she so handsome? It’s not my fault. In fact, it began on +my side with a most irresistible physical desire. Avdotya Romanovna is +awfully chaste, incredibly and phenomenally so. Take note, I tell you +this about your sister as a fact. She is almost morbidly chaste, in +spite of her broad intelligence, and it will stand in her way. There +happened to be a girl in the house then, Parasha, a black-eyed +wench, whom I had never seen before--she had just come from another +village--very pretty, but incredibly stupid: she burst into tears, +wailed so that she could be heard all over the place and caused scandal. +One day after dinner Avdotya Romanovna followed me into an avenue in +the garden and with flashing eyes _insisted_ on my leaving poor Parasha +alone. It was almost our first conversation by ourselves. I, of course, +was only too pleased to obey her wishes, tried to appear disconcerted, +embarrassed, in fact played my part not badly. Then came interviews, +mysterious conversations, exhortations, entreaties, supplications, even +tears--would you believe it, even tears? Think what the passion for +propaganda will bring some girls to! I, of course, threw it all on +my destiny, posed as hungering and thirsting for light, and finally +resorted to the most powerful weapon in the subjection of the +female heart, a weapon which never fails one. It’s the well-known +resource--flattery. Nothing in the world is harder than speaking the +truth and nothing easier than flattery. If there’s the hundredth part +of a false note in speaking the truth, it leads to a discord, and that +leads to trouble. But if all, to the last note, is false in flattery, it +is just as agreeable, and is heard not without satisfaction. It may be +a coarse satisfaction, but still a satisfaction. And however coarse the +flattery, at least half will be sure to seem true. That’s so for all +stages of development and classes of society. A vestal virgin might be +seduced by flattery. I can never remember without laughter how I once +seduced a lady who was devoted to her husband, her children, and her +principles. What fun it was and how little trouble! And the lady really +had principles--of her own, anyway. All my tactics lay in simply being +utterly annihilated and prostrate before her purity. I flattered her +shamelessly, and as soon as I succeeded in getting a pressure of +the hand, even a glance from her, I would reproach myself for having +snatched it by force, and would declare that she had resisted, so that +I could never have gained anything but for my being so unprincipled. +I maintained that she was so innocent that she could not foresee my +treachery, and yielded to me unconsciously, unawares, and so on. In +fact, I triumphed, while my lady remained firmly convinced that she was +innocent, chaste, and faithful to all her duties and obligations and +had succumbed quite by accident. And how angry she was with me when I +explained to her at last that it was my sincere conviction that she was +just as eager as I. Poor Marfa Petrovna was awfully weak on the side of +flattery, and if I had only cared to, I might have had all her property +settled on me during her lifetime. (I am drinking an awful lot of wine +now and talking too much.) I hope you won’t be angry if I mention now +that I was beginning to produce the same effect on Avdotya Romanovna. +But I was stupid and impatient and spoiled it all. Avdotya Romanovna had +several times--and one time in particular--been greatly displeased by +the expression of my eyes, would you believe it? There was sometimes a +light in them which frightened her and grew stronger and stronger and +more unguarded till it was hateful to her. No need to go into detail, +but we parted. There I acted stupidly again. I fell to jeering in the +coarsest way at all such propaganda and efforts to convert me; Parasha +came on to the scene again, and not she alone; in fact there was a +tremendous to-do. Ah, Rodion Romanovitch, if you could only see how your +sister’s eyes can flash sometimes! Never mind my being drunk at this +moment and having had a whole glass of wine. I am speaking the truth. +I assure you that this glance has haunted my dreams; the very rustle of +her dress was more than I could stand at last. I really began to think +that I might become epileptic. I could never have believed that I could +be moved to such a frenzy. It was essential, indeed, to be reconciled, +but by then it was impossible. And imagine what I did then! To what +a pitch of stupidity a man can be brought by frenzy! Never undertake +anything in a frenzy, Rodion Romanovitch. I reflected that Avdotya +Romanovna was after all a beggar (ach, excuse me, that’s not the word... +but does it matter if it expresses the meaning?), that she lived by +her work, that she had her mother and you to keep (ach, hang it, you +are frowning again), and I resolved to offer her all my money--thirty +thousand roubles I could have realised then--if she would run away with +me here, to Petersburg. Of course I should have vowed eternal love, +rapture, and so on. Do you know, I was so wild about her at that time +that if she had told me to poison Marfa Petrovna or to cut her throat +and to marry herself, it would have been done at once! But it ended in +the catastrophe of which you know already. You can fancy how frantic I +was when I heard that Marfa Petrovna had got hold of that scoundrelly +attorney, Luzhin, and had almost made a match between them--which would +really have been just the same thing as I was proposing. Wouldn’t it? +Wouldn’t it? I notice that you’ve begun to be very attentive... you +interesting young man....” + +Svidrigaïlov struck the table with his fist impatiently. He was flushed. +Raskolnikov saw clearly that the glass or glass and a half of champagne +that he had sipped almost unconsciously was affecting him--and he +resolved to take advantage of the opportunity. He felt very suspicious +of Svidrigaïlov. + +“Well, after what you have said, I am fully convinced that you have +come to Petersburg with designs on my sister,” he said directly to +Svidrigaïlov, in order to irritate him further. + +“Oh, nonsense,” said Svidrigaïlov, seeming to rouse himself. “Why, I +told you... besides your sister can’t endure me.” + +“Yes, I am certain that she can’t, but that’s not the point.” + +“Are you so sure that she can’t?” Svidrigaïlov screwed up his eyes and +smiled mockingly. “You are right, she doesn’t love me, but you can +never be sure of what has passed between husband and wife or lover and +mistress. There’s always a little corner which remains a secret to +the world and is only known to those two. Will you answer for it that +Avdotya Romanovna regarded me with aversion?” + +“From some words you’ve dropped, I notice that you still have +designs--and of course evil ones--on Dounia and mean to carry them out +promptly.” + +“What, have I dropped words like that?” Svidrigaïlov asked in naïve +dismay, taking not the slightest notice of the epithet bestowed on his +designs. + +“Why, you are dropping them even now. Why are you so frightened? What +are you so afraid of now?” + +“Me--afraid? Afraid of you? You have rather to be afraid of me, _cher +ami_. But what nonsense.... I’ve drunk too much though, I see that. I +was almost saying too much again. Damn the wine! Hi! there, water!” + +He snatched up the champagne bottle and flung it without ceremony out of +the window. Philip brought the water. + +“That’s all nonsense!” said Svidrigaïlov, wetting a towel and putting it +to his head. “But I can answer you in one word and annihilate all your +suspicions. Do you know that I am going to get married?” + +“You told me so before.” + +“Did I? I’ve forgotten. But I couldn’t have told you so for certain for +I had not even seen my betrothed; I only meant to. But now I really +have a betrothed and it’s a settled thing, and if it weren’t that I have +business that can’t be put off, I would have taken you to see them +at once, for I should like to ask your advice. Ach, hang it, only ten +minutes left! See, look at the watch. But I must tell you, for it’s an +interesting story, my marriage, in its own way. Where are you off to? +Going again?” + +“No, I’m not going away now.” + +“Not at all? We shall see. I’ll take you there, I’ll show you my +betrothed, only not now. For you’ll soon have to be off. You have to go +to the right and I to the left. Do you know that Madame Resslich, the +woman I am lodging with now, eh? I know what you’re thinking, that she’s +the woman whose girl they say drowned herself in the winter. Come, are +you listening? She arranged it all for me. You’re bored, she said, +you want something to fill up your time. For, you know, I am a gloomy, +depressed person. Do you think I’m light-hearted? No, I’m gloomy. I do +no harm, but sit in a corner without speaking a word for three days at a +time. And that Resslich is a sly hussy, I tell you. I know what she has +got in her mind; she thinks I shall get sick of it, abandon my wife and +depart, and she’ll get hold of her and make a profit out of her--in our +class, of course, or higher. She told me the father was a broken-down +retired official, who has been sitting in a chair for the last three +years with his legs paralysed. The mamma, she said, was a sensible +woman. There is a son serving in the provinces, but he doesn’t help; +there is a daughter, who is married, but she doesn’t visit them. And +they’ve two little nephews on their hands, as though their own children +were not enough, and they’ve taken from school their youngest daughter, +a girl who’ll be sixteen in another month, so that then she can be +married. She was for me. We went there. How funny it was! I present +myself--a landowner, a widower, of a well-known name, with connections, +with a fortune. What if I am fifty and she is not sixteen? Who thinks +of that? But it’s fascinating, isn’t it? It is fascinating, ha-ha! You +should have seen how I talked to the papa and mamma. It was worth paying +to have seen me at that moment. She comes in, curtseys, you can fancy, +still in a short frock--an unopened bud! Flushing like a sunset--she had +been told, no doubt. I don’t know how you feel about female faces, but +to my mind these sixteen years, these childish eyes, shyness and tears +of bashfulness are better than beauty; and she is a perfect little +picture, too. Fair hair in little curls, like a lamb’s, full little rosy +lips, tiny feet, a charmer!... Well, we made friends. I told them I was +in a hurry owing to domestic circumstances, and the next day, that is +the day before yesterday, we were betrothed. When I go now I take her on +my knee at once and keep her there.... Well, she flushes like a sunset +and I kiss her every minute. Her mamma of course impresses on her that +this is her husband and that this must be so. It’s simply delicious! The +present betrothed condition is perhaps better than marriage. Here you +have what is called _la nature et la vérité_, ha-ha! I’ve talked to her +twice, she is far from a fool. Sometimes she steals a look at me that +positively scorches me. Her face is like Raphael’s Madonna. You know, +the Sistine Madonna’s face has something fantastic in it, the face +of mournful religious ecstasy. Haven’t you noticed it? Well, she’s +something in that line. The day after we’d been betrothed, I bought her +presents to the value of fifteen hundred roubles--a set of diamonds and +another of pearls and a silver dressing-case as large as this, with all +sorts of things in it, so that even my Madonna’s face glowed. I sat her +on my knee, yesterday, and I suppose rather too unceremoniously--she +flushed crimson and the tears started, but she didn’t want to show it. +We were left alone, she suddenly flung herself on my neck (for the first +time of her own accord), put her little arms round me, kissed me, and +vowed that she would be an obedient, faithful, and good wife, would make +me happy, would devote all her life, every minute of her life, would +sacrifice everything, everything, and that all she asks in return is +my _respect_, and that she wants ‘nothing, nothing more from me, no +presents.’ You’ll admit that to hear such a confession, alone, from an +angel of sixteen in a muslin frock, with little curls, with a flush +of maiden shyness in her cheeks and tears of enthusiasm in her eyes is +rather fascinating! Isn’t it fascinating? It’s worth paying for, isn’t +it? Well... listen, we’ll go to see my betrothed, only not just now!” + +“The fact is this monstrous difference in age and development excites +your sensuality! Will you really make such a marriage?” + +“Why, of course. Everyone thinks of himself, and he lives most gaily who +knows best how to deceive himself. Ha-ha! But why are you so keen about +virtue? Have mercy on me, my good friend. I am a sinful man. Ha-ha-ha!” + +“But you have provided for the children of Katerina Ivanovna. Though... +though you had your own reasons.... I understand it all now.” + +“I am always fond of children, very fond of them,” laughed Svidrigaïlov. +“I can tell you one curious instance of it. The first day I came here I +visited various haunts, after seven years I simply rushed at them. You +probably notice that I am not in a hurry to renew acquaintance with my +old friends. I shall do without them as long as I can. Do you know, when +I was with Marfa Petrovna in the country, I was haunted by the thought +of these places where anyone who knows his way about can find a great +deal. Yes, upon my soul! The peasants have vodka, the educated young +people, shut out from activity, waste themselves in impossible dreams +and visions and are crippled by theories; Jews have sprung up and are +amassing money, and all the rest give themselves up to debauchery. From +the first hour the town reeked of its familiar odours. I chanced to be +in a frightful den--I like my dens dirty--it was a dance, so called, and +there was a _cancan_ such as I never saw in my day. Yes, there you +have progress. All of a sudden I saw a little girl of thirteen, nicely +dressed, dancing with a specialist in that line, with another one +_vis-à-vis_. Her mother was sitting on a chair by the wall. You can’t +fancy what a _cancan_ that was! The girl was ashamed, blushed, at +last felt insulted, and began to cry. Her partner seized her and began +whirling her round and performing before her; everyone laughed and--I +like your public, even the _cancan_ public--they laughed and shouted, +‘Serves her right--serves her right! Shouldn’t bring children!’ Well, +it’s not my business whether that consoling reflection was logical or +not. I at once fixed on my plan, sat down by the mother, and began by +saying that I too was a stranger and that people here were ill-bred and +that they couldn’t distinguish decent folks and treat them with respect, +gave her to understand that I had plenty of money, offered to take them +home in my carriage. I took them home and got to know them. They were +lodging in a miserable little hole and had only just arrived from the +country. She told me that she and her daughter could only regard my +acquaintance as an honour. I found out that they had nothing of their +own and had come to town upon some legal business. I proffered my +services and money. I learnt that they had gone to the dancing saloon +by mistake, believing that it was a genuine dancing class. I offered to +assist in the young girl’s education in French and dancing. My offer was +accepted with enthusiasm as an honour--and we are still friendly.... If +you like, we’ll go and see them, only not just now.” + +“Stop! Enough of your vile, nasty anecdotes, depraved vile, sensual +man!” + +“Schiller, you are a regular Schiller! _O la vertu va-t-elle se nicher?_ +But you know I shall tell you these things on purpose, for the pleasure +of hearing your outcries!” + +“I dare say. I can see I am ridiculous myself,” muttered Raskolnikov +angrily. + +Svidrigaïlov laughed heartily; finally he called Philip, paid his bill, +and began getting up. + +“I say, but I am drunk, _assez causé_,” he said. “It’s been a pleasure.” + +“I should rather think it must be a pleasure!” cried Raskolnikov, +getting up. “No doubt it is a pleasure for a worn-out profligate to +describe such adventures with a monstrous project of the same sort in +his mind--especially under such circumstances and to such a man as +me.... It’s stimulating!” + +“Well, if you come to that,” Svidrigaïlov answered, scrutinising +Raskolnikov with some surprise, “if you come to that, you are a thorough +cynic yourself. You’ve plenty to make you so, anyway. You can understand +a great deal... and you can do a great deal too. But enough. I sincerely +regret not having had more talk with you, but I shan’t lose sight of +you.... Only wait a bit.” + +Svidrigaïlov walked out of the restaurant. Raskolnikov walked out after +him. Svidrigaïlov was not however very drunk, the wine had affected him +for a moment, but it was passing off every minute. He was preoccupied +with something of importance and was frowning. He was apparently excited +and uneasy in anticipation of something. His manner to Raskolnikov had +changed during the last few minutes, and he was ruder and more sneering +every moment. Raskolnikov noticed all this, and he too was uneasy. He +became very suspicious of Svidrigaïlov and resolved to follow him. + +They came out on to the pavement. + +“You go to the right, and I to the left, or if you like, the other way. +Only _adieu, mon plaisir_, may we meet again.” + +And he walked to the right towards the Hay Market. + + + +CHAPTER V + +Raskolnikov walked after him. + +“What’s this?” cried Svidrigaïlov turning round, “I thought I said...” + +“It means that I am not going to lose sight of you now.” + +“What?” + +Both stood still and gazed at one another, as though measuring their +strength. + +“From all your half tipsy stories,” Raskolnikov observed harshly, “I am +_positive_ that you have not given up your designs on my sister, but +are pursuing them more actively than ever. I have learnt that my sister +received a letter this morning. You have hardly been able to sit still +all this time.... You may have unearthed a wife on the way, but that +means nothing. I should like to make certain myself.” + +Raskolnikov could hardly have said himself what he wanted and of what he +wished to make certain. + +“Upon my word! I’ll call the police!” + +“Call away!” + +Again they stood for a minute facing each other. At last Svidrigaïlov’s +face changed. Having satisfied himself that Raskolnikov was not +frightened at his threat, he assumed a mirthful and friendly air. + +“What a fellow! I purposely refrained from referring to your affair, +though I am devoured by curiosity. It’s a fantastic affair. I’ve put it +off till another time, but you’re enough to rouse the dead.... Well, let +us go, only I warn you beforehand I am only going home for a moment, +to get some money; then I shall lock up the flat, take a cab and go to +spend the evening at the Islands. Now, now are you going to follow me?” + +“I’m coming to your lodgings, not to see you but Sofya Semyonovna, to +say I’m sorry not to have been at the funeral.” + +“That’s as you like, but Sofya Semyonovna is not at home. She has taken +the three children to an old lady of high rank, the patroness of some +orphan asylums, whom I used to know years ago. I charmed the old lady by +depositing a sum of money with her to provide for the three children of +Katerina Ivanovna and subscribing to the institution as well. I told her +too the story of Sofya Semyonovna in full detail, suppressing nothing. +It produced an indescribable effect on her. That’s why Sofya Semyonovna +has been invited to call to-day at the X. Hotel where the lady is +staying for the time.” + +“No matter, I’ll come all the same.” + +“As you like, it’s nothing to me, but I won’t come with you; here we are +at home. By the way, I am convinced that you regard me with suspicion +just because I have shown such delicacy and have not so far troubled +you with questions... you understand? It struck you as extraordinary; I +don’t mind betting it’s that. Well, it teaches one to show delicacy!” + +“And to listen at doors!” + +“Ah, that’s it, is it?” laughed Svidrigaïlov. “Yes, I should have been +surprised if you had let that pass after all that has happened. Ha-ha! +Though I did understand something of the pranks you had been up to and +were telling Sofya Semyonovna about, what was the meaning of it? Perhaps +I am quite behind the times and can’t understand. For goodness’ sake, +explain it, my dear boy. Expound the latest theories!” + +“You couldn’t have heard anything. You’re making it all up!” + +“But I’m not talking about that (though I did hear something). No, I’m +talking of the way you keep sighing and groaning now. The Schiller in +you is in revolt every moment, and now you tell me not to listen at +doors. If that’s how you feel, go and inform the police that you had +this mischance: you made a little mistake in your theory. But if you are +convinced that one mustn’t listen at doors, but one may murder old women +at one’s pleasure, you’d better be off to America and make haste. Run, +young man! There may still be time. I’m speaking sincerely. Haven’t you +the money? I’ll give you the fare.” + +“I’m not thinking of that at all,” Raskolnikov interrupted with disgust. + +“I understand (but don’t put yourself out, don’t discuss it if you don’t +want to). I understand the questions you are worrying over--moral ones, +aren’t they? Duties of citizen and man? Lay them all aside. They are +nothing to you now, ha-ha! You’ll say you are still a man and a citizen. +If so you ought not to have got into this coil. It’s no use taking up a +job you are not fit for. Well, you’d better shoot yourself, or don’t you +want to?” + +“You seem trying to enrage me, to make me leave you.” + +“What a queer fellow! But here we are. Welcome to the staircase. You +see, that’s the way to Sofya Semyonovna. Look, there is no one at home. +Don’t you believe me? Ask Kapernaumov. She leaves the key with him. Here +is Madame de Kapernaumov herself. Hey, what? She is rather deaf. Has she +gone out? Where? Did you hear? She is not in and won’t be till late in +the evening probably. Well, come to my room; you wanted to come and see +me, didn’t you? Here we are. Madame Resslich’s not at home. She is a +woman who is always busy, an excellent woman I assure you.... She might +have been of use to you if you had been a little more sensible. Now, +see! I take this five-per-cent bond out of the bureau--see what a lot +I’ve got of them still--this one will be turned into cash to-day. I +mustn’t waste any more time. The bureau is locked, the flat is locked, +and here we are again on the stairs. Shall we take a cab? I’m going to +the Islands. Would you like a lift? I’ll take this carriage. Ah, you +refuse? You are tired of it! Come for a drive! I believe it will come on +to rain. Never mind, we’ll put down the hood....” + +Svidrigaïlov was already in the carriage. Raskolnikov decided that his +suspicions were at least for that moment unjust. Without answering a +word he turned and walked back towards the Hay Market. If he had only +turned round on his way he might have seen Svidrigaïlov get out not a +hundred paces off, dismiss the cab and walk along the pavement. But he +had turned the corner and could see nothing. Intense disgust drew him +away from Svidrigaïlov. + +“To think that I could for one instant have looked for help from that +coarse brute, that depraved sensualist and blackguard!” he cried. + +Raskolnikov’s judgment was uttered too lightly and hastily: there was +something about Svidrigaïlov which gave him a certain original, even a +mysterious character. As concerned his sister, Raskolnikov was convinced +that Svidrigaïlov would not leave her in peace. But it was too tiresome +and unbearable to go on thinking and thinking about this. + +When he was alone, he had not gone twenty paces before he sank, as +usual, into deep thought. On the bridge he stood by the railing and +began gazing at the water. And his sister was standing close by him. + +He met her at the entrance to the bridge, but passed by without seeing +her. Dounia had never met him like this in the street before and was +struck with dismay. She stood still and did not know whether to call +to him or not. Suddenly she saw Svidrigaïlov coming quickly from the +direction of the Hay Market. + +He seemed to be approaching cautiously. He did not go on to the +bridge, but stood aside on the pavement, doing all he could to avoid +Raskolnikov’s seeing him. He had observed Dounia for some time and had +been making signs to her. She fancied he was signalling to beg her not +to speak to her brother, but to come to him. + +That was what Dounia did. She stole by her brother and went up to +Svidrigaïlov. + +“Let us make haste away,” Svidrigaïlov whispered to her, “I don’t want +Rodion Romanovitch to know of our meeting. I must tell you I’ve been +sitting with him in the restaurant close by, where he looked me up and +I had great difficulty in getting rid of him. He has somehow heard of +my letter to you and suspects something. It wasn’t you who told him, of +course, but if not you, who then?” + +“Well, we’ve turned the corner now,” Dounia interrupted, “and my brother +won’t see us. I have to tell you that I am going no further with you. +Speak to me here. You can tell it all in the street.” + +“In the first place, I can’t say it in the street; secondly, you must +hear Sofya Semyonovna too; and, thirdly, I will show you some papers.... +Oh well, if you won’t agree to come with me, I shall refuse to give +any explanation and go away at once. But I beg you not to forget that +a very curious secret of your beloved brother’s is entirely in my +keeping.” + +Dounia stood still, hesitating, and looked at Svidrigaïlov with +searching eyes. + +“What are you afraid of?” he observed quietly. “The town is not the +country. And even in the country you did me more harm than I did you.” + +“Have you prepared Sofya Semyonovna?” + +“No, I have not said a word to her and am not quite certain whether she +is at home now. But most likely she is. She has buried her stepmother +to-day: she is not likely to go visiting on such a day. For the time I +don’t want to speak to anyone about it and I half regret having spoken +to you. The slightest indiscretion is as bad as betrayal in a thing like +this. I live there in that house, we are coming to it. That’s the porter +of our house--he knows me very well; you see, he’s bowing; he sees I’m +coming with a lady and no doubt he has noticed your face already and you +will be glad of that if you are afraid of me and suspicious. Excuse +my putting things so coarsely. I haven’t a flat to myself; Sofya +Semyonovna’s room is next to mine--she lodges in the next flat. The +whole floor is let out in lodgings. Why are you frightened like a child? +Am I really so terrible?” + +Svidrigaïlov’s lips were twisted in a condescending smile; but he was in +no smiling mood. His heart was throbbing and he could scarcely breathe. +He spoke rather loud to cover his growing excitement. But Dounia did not +notice this peculiar excitement, she was so irritated by his remark that +she was frightened of him like a child and that he was so terrible to +her. + +“Though I know that you are not a man... of honour, I am not in the +least afraid of you. Lead the way,” she said with apparent composure, +but her face was very pale. + +Svidrigaïlov stopped at Sonia’s room. + +“Allow me to inquire whether she is at home.... She is not. How +unfortunate! But I know she may come quite soon. If she’s gone out, it +can only be to see a lady about the orphans. Their mother is dead.... +I’ve been meddling and making arrangements for them. If Sofya Semyonovna +does not come back in ten minutes, I will send her to you, to-day if +you like. This is my flat. These are my two rooms. Madame Resslich, +my landlady, has the next room. Now, look this way. I will show you +my chief piece of evidence: this door from my bedroom leads into two +perfectly empty rooms, which are to let. Here they are... You must look +into them with some attention.” + +Svidrigaïlov occupied two fairly large furnished rooms. Dounia was +looking about her mistrustfully, but saw nothing special in the +furniture or position of the rooms. Yet there was something to observe, +for instance, that Svidrigaïlov’s flat was exactly between two sets of +almost uninhabited apartments. His rooms were not entered directly +from the passage, but through the landlady’s two almost empty rooms. +Unlocking a door leading out of his bedroom, Svidrigaïlov showed Dounia +the two empty rooms that were to let. Dounia stopped in the doorway, not +knowing what she was called to look upon, but Svidrigaïlov hastened to +explain. + +“Look here, at this second large room. Notice that door, it’s locked. +By the door stands a chair, the only one in the two rooms. I brought it +from my rooms so as to listen more conveniently. Just the other side of +the door is Sofya Semyonovna’s table; she sat there talking to Rodion +Romanovitch. And I sat here listening on two successive evenings, for +two hours each time--and of course I was able to learn something, what +do you think?” + +“You listened?” + +“Yes, I did. Now come back to my room; we can’t sit down here.” + +He brought Avdotya Romanovna back into his sitting-room and offered her +a chair. He sat down at the opposite side of the table, at least seven +feet from her, but probably there was the same glow in his eyes which +had once frightened Dounia so much. She shuddered and once more looked +about her distrustfully. It was an involuntary gesture; she evidently +did not wish to betray her uneasiness. But the secluded position of +Svidrigaïlov’s lodging had suddenly struck her. She wanted to ask +whether his landlady at least were at home, but pride kept her from +asking. Moreover, she had another trouble in her heart incomparably +greater than fear for herself. She was in great distress. + +“Here is your letter,” she said, laying it on the table. “Can it be true +what you write? You hint at a crime committed, you say, by my brother. +You hint at it too clearly; you daren’t deny it now. I must tell you +that I’d heard of this stupid story before you wrote and don’t believe a +word of it. It’s a disgusting and ridiculous suspicion. I know the story +and why and how it was invented. You can have no proofs. You promised to +prove it. Speak! But let me warn you that I don’t believe you! I don’t +believe you!” + +Dounia said this, speaking hurriedly, and for an instant the colour +rushed to her face. + +“If you didn’t believe it, how could you risk coming alone to my rooms? +Why have you come? Simply from curiosity?” + +“Don’t torment me. Speak, speak!” + +“There’s no denying that you are a brave girl. Upon my word, I thought +you would have asked Mr. Razumihin to escort you here. But he was not +with you nor anywhere near. I was on the look-out. It’s spirited of +you, it proves you wanted to spare Rodion Romanovitch. But everything +is divine in you.... About your brother, what am I to say to you? You’ve +just seen him yourself. What did you think of him?” + +“Surely that’s not the only thing you are building on?” + +“No, not on that, but on his own words. He came here on two successive +evenings to see Sofya Semyonovna. I’ve shown you where they sat. He made +a full confession to her. He is a murderer. He killed an old woman, a +pawnbroker, with whom he had pawned things himself. He killed her sister +too, a pedlar woman called Lizaveta, who happened to come in while he +was murdering her sister. He killed them with an axe he brought with +him. He murdered them to rob them and he did rob them. He took money and +various things.... He told all this, word for word, to Sofya Semyonovna, +the only person who knows his secret. But she has had no share by word +or deed in the murder; she was as horrified at it as you are now. Don’t +be anxious, she won’t betray him.” + +“It cannot be,” muttered Dounia, with white lips. She gasped for breath. +“It cannot be. There was not the slightest cause, no sort of ground.... +It’s a lie, a lie!” + +“He robbed her, that was the cause, he took money and things. It’s true +that by his own admission he made no use of the money or things, but hid +them under a stone, where they are now. But that was because he dared +not make use of them.” + +“But how could he steal, rob? How could he dream of it?” cried Dounia, +and she jumped up from the chair. “Why, you know him, and you’ve seen +him, can he be a thief?” + +She seemed to be imploring Svidrigaïlov; she had entirely forgotten her +fear. + +“There are thousands and millions of combinations and possibilities, +Avdotya Romanovna. A thief steals and knows he is a scoundrel, but I’ve +heard of a gentleman who broke open the mail. Who knows, very likely he +thought he was doing a gentlemanly thing! Of course I should not have +believed it myself if I’d been told of it as you have, but I believe my +own ears. He explained all the causes of it to Sofya Semyonovna too, but +she did not believe her ears at first, yet she believed her own eyes at +last.” + +“What... were the causes?” + +“It’s a long story, Avdotya Romanovna. Here’s... how shall I tell +you?--A theory of a sort, the same one by which I for instance consider +that a single misdeed is permissible if the principal aim is right, a +solitary wrongdoing and hundreds of good deeds! It’s galling too, of +course, for a young man of gifts and overweening pride to know that if +he had, for instance, a paltry three thousand, his whole career, his +whole future would be differently shaped and yet not to have that three +thousand. Add to that, nervous irritability from hunger, from lodging +in a hole, from rags, from a vivid sense of the charm of his social +position and his sister’s and mother’s position too. Above all, vanity, +pride and vanity, though goodness knows he may have good qualities +too.... I am not blaming him, please don’t think it; besides, it’s not +my business. A special little theory came in too--a theory of a +sort--dividing mankind, you see, into material and superior persons, +that is persons to whom the law does not apply owing to their +superiority, who make laws for the rest of mankind, the material, that +is. It’s all right as a theory, _une théorie comme une autre_. Napoleon +attracted him tremendously, that is, what affected him was that a +great many men of genius have not hesitated at wrongdoing, but have +overstepped the law without thinking about it. He seems to have fancied +that he was a genius too--that is, he was convinced of it for a time. He +has suffered a great deal and is still suffering from the idea that he +could make a theory, but was incapable of boldly overstepping the law, +and so he is not a man of genius. And that’s humiliating for a young man +of any pride, in our day especially....” + +“But remorse? You deny him any moral feeling then? Is he like that?” + +“Ah, Avdotya Romanovna, everything is in a muddle now; not that it was +ever in very good order. Russians in general are broad in their ideas, +Avdotya Romanovna, broad like their land and exceedingly disposed to +the fantastic, the chaotic. But it’s a misfortune to be broad without +a special genius. Do you remember what a lot of talk we had together on +this subject, sitting in the evenings on the terrace after supper? Why, +you used to reproach me with breadth! Who knows, perhaps we were talking +at the very time when he was lying here thinking over his plan. There +are no sacred traditions amongst us, especially in the educated class, +Avdotya Romanovna. At the best someone will make them up somehow for +himself out of books or from some old chronicle. But those are for the +most part the learned and all old fogeys, so that it would be almost +ill-bred in a man of society. You know my opinions in general, though. I +never blame anyone. I do nothing at all, I persevere in that. But +we’ve talked of this more than once before. I was so happy indeed as to +interest you in my opinions.... You are very pale, Avdotya Romanovna.” + +“I know his theory. I read that article of his about men to whom all is +permitted. Razumihin brought it to me.” + +“Mr. Razumihin? Your brother’s article? In a magazine? Is there such an +article? I didn’t know. It must be interesting. But where are you going, +Avdotya Romanovna?” + +“I want to see Sofya Semyonovna,” Dounia articulated faintly. “How do I +go to her? She has come in, perhaps. I must see her at once. Perhaps +she...” + +Avdotya Romanovna could not finish. Her breath literally failed her. + +“Sofya Semyonovna will not be back till night, at least I believe not. +She was to have been back at once, but if not, then she will not be in +till quite late.” + +“Ah, then you are lying! I see... you were lying... lying all the +time.... I don’t believe you! I don’t believe you!” cried Dounia, +completely losing her head. + +Almost fainting, she sank on to a chair which Svidrigaïlov made haste to +give her. + +“Avdotya Romanovna, what is it? Control yourself! Here is some water. +Drink a little....” + +He sprinkled some water over her. Dounia shuddered and came to herself. + +“It has acted violently,” Svidrigaïlov muttered to himself, frowning. +“Avdotya Romanovna, calm yourself! Believe me, he has friends. We will +save him. Would you like me to take him abroad? I have money, I can get +a ticket in three days. And as for the murder, he will do all sorts of +good deeds yet, to atone for it. Calm yourself. He may become a great +man yet. Well, how are you? How do you feel?” + +“Cruel man! To be able to jeer at it! Let me go...” + +“Where are you going?” + +“To him. Where is he? Do you know? Why is this door locked? We came in +at that door and now it is locked. When did you manage to lock it?” + +“We couldn’t be shouting all over the flat on such a subject. I am far +from jeering; it’s simply that I’m sick of talking like this. But how +can you go in such a state? Do you want to betray him? You will drive +him to fury, and he will give himself up. Let me tell you, he is already +being watched; they are already on his track. You will simply be giving +him away. Wait a little: I saw him and was talking to him just now. He +can still be saved. Wait a bit, sit down; let us think it over together. +I asked you to come in order to discuss it alone with you and to +consider it thoroughly. But do sit down!” + +“How can you save him? Can he really be saved?” + +Dounia sat down. Svidrigaïlov sat down beside her. + +“It all depends on you, on you, on you alone,” he began with glowing +eyes, almost in a whisper and hardly able to utter the words for +emotion. + +Dounia drew back from him in alarm. He too was trembling all over. + +“You... one word from you, and he is saved. I... I’ll save him. I have +money and friends. I’ll send him away at once. I’ll get a passport, +two passports, one for him and one for me. I have friends... capable +people.... If you like, I’ll take a passport for you... for your +mother.... What do you want with Razumihin? I love you too.... I love +you beyond everything.... Let me kiss the hem of your dress, let me, let +me.... The very rustle of it is too much for me. Tell me, ‘do that,’ +and I’ll do it. I’ll do everything. I will do the impossible. What you +believe, I will believe. I’ll do anything--anything! Don’t, don’t look +at me like that. Do you know that you are killing me?...” + +He was almost beginning to rave.... Something seemed suddenly to go to +his head. Dounia jumped up and rushed to the door. + +“Open it! Open it!” she called, shaking the door. “Open it! Is there no +one there?” + +Svidrigaïlov got up and came to himself. His still trembling lips slowly +broke into an angry mocking smile. + +“There is no one at home,” he said quietly and emphatically. “The +landlady has gone out, and it’s waste of time to shout like that. You +are only exciting yourself uselessly.” + +“Where is the key? Open the door at once, at once, base man!” + +“I have lost the key and cannot find it.” + +“This is an outrage,” cried Dounia, turning pale as death. She rushed +to the furthest corner, where she made haste to barricade herself with a +little table. + +She did not scream, but she fixed her eyes on her tormentor and watched +every movement he made. + +Svidrigaïlov remained standing at the other end of the room facing her. +He was positively composed, at least in appearance, but his face was +pale as before. The mocking smile did not leave his face. + +“You spoke of outrage just now, Avdotya Romanovna. In that case you +may be sure I’ve taken measures. Sofya Semyonovna is not at home. The +Kapernaumovs are far away--there are five locked rooms between. I am at +least twice as strong as you are and I have nothing to fear, besides. +For you could not complain afterwards. You surely would not be willing +actually to betray your brother? Besides, no one would believe you. How +should a girl have come alone to visit a solitary man in his lodgings? +So that even if you do sacrifice your brother, you could prove nothing. +It is very difficult to prove an assault, Avdotya Romanovna.” + +“Scoundrel!” whispered Dounia indignantly. + +“As you like, but observe I was only speaking by way of a general +proposition. It’s my personal conviction that you are perfectly +right--violence is hateful. I only spoke to show you that you need have +no remorse even if... you were willing to save your brother of your +own accord, as I suggest to you. You would be simply submitting to +circumstances, to violence, in fact, if we must use that word. Think +about it. Your brother’s and your mother’s fate are in your hands. I +will be your slave... all my life... I will wait here.” + +Svidrigaïlov sat down on the sofa about eight steps from Dounia. She had +not the slightest doubt now of his unbending determination. Besides, she +knew him. Suddenly she pulled out of her pocket a revolver, cocked it +and laid it in her hand on the table. Svidrigaïlov jumped up. + +“Aha! So that’s it, is it?” he cried, surprised but smiling maliciously. +“Well, that completely alters the aspect of affairs. You’ve made things +wonderfully easier for me, Avdotya Romanovna. But where did you get the +revolver? Was it Mr. Razumihin? Why, it’s my revolver, an old friend! +And how I’ve hunted for it! The shooting lessons I’ve given you in the +country have not been thrown away.” + +“It’s not your revolver, it belonged to Marfa Petrovna, whom you killed, +wretch! There was nothing of yours in her house. I took it when I began +to suspect what you were capable of. If you dare to advance one step, I +swear I’ll kill you.” She was frantic. + +“But your brother? I ask from curiosity,” said Svidrigaïlov, still +standing where he was. + +“Inform, if you want to! Don’t stir! Don’t come nearer! I’ll shoot! You +poisoned your wife, I know; you are a murderer yourself!” She held the +revolver ready. + +“Are you so positive I poisoned Marfa Petrovna?” + +“You did! You hinted it yourself; you talked to me of poison.... I know +you went to get it... you had it in readiness.... It was your doing.... +It must have been your doing.... Scoundrel!” + +“Even if that were true, it would have been for your sake... you would +have been the cause.” + +“You are lying! I hated you always, always....” + +“Oho, Avdotya Romanovna! You seem to have forgotten how you softened +to me in the heat of propaganda. I saw it in your eyes. Do you remember +that moonlight night, when the nightingale was singing?” + +“That’s a lie,” there was a flash of fury in Dounia’s eyes, “that’s a +lie and a libel!” + +“A lie? Well, if you like, it’s a lie. I made it up. Women ought not +to be reminded of such things,” he smiled. “I know you will shoot, you +pretty wild creature. Well, shoot away!” + +Dounia raised the revolver, and deadly pale, gazed at him, measuring the +distance and awaiting the first movement on his part. Her lower lip was +white and quivering and her big black eyes flashed like fire. He had +never seen her so handsome. The fire glowing in her eyes at the moment +she raised the revolver seemed to kindle him and there was a pang of +anguish in his heart. He took a step forward and a shot rang out. The +bullet grazed his hair and flew into the wall behind. He stood still and +laughed softly. + +“The wasp has stung me. She aimed straight at my head. What’s this? +Blood?” he pulled out his handkerchief to wipe the blood, which flowed +in a thin stream down his right temple. The bullet seemed to have just +grazed the skin. + +Dounia lowered the revolver and looked at Svidrigaïlov not so much in +terror as in a sort of wild amazement. She seemed not to understand what +she was doing and what was going on. + +“Well, you missed! Fire again, I’ll wait,” said Svidrigaïlov softly, +still smiling, but gloomily. “If you go on like that, I shall have time +to seize you before you cock again.” + +Dounia started, quickly cocked the pistol and again raised it. + +“Let me be,” she cried in despair. “I swear I’ll shoot again. I... I’ll +kill you.” + +“Well... at three paces you can hardly help it. But if you don’t... +then.” His eyes flashed and he took two steps forward. Dounia shot +again: it missed fire. + +“You haven’t loaded it properly. Never mind, you have another charge +there. Get it ready, I’ll wait.” + +He stood facing her, two paces away, waiting and gazing at her with wild +determination, with feverishly passionate, stubborn, set eyes. Dounia +saw that he would sooner die than let her go. “And... now, of course she +would kill him, at two paces!” Suddenly she flung away the revolver. + +“She’s dropped it!” said Svidrigaïlov with surprise, and he drew a deep +breath. A weight seemed to have rolled from his heart--perhaps not only +the fear of death; indeed he may scarcely have felt it at that moment. +It was the deliverance from another feeling, darker and more bitter, +which he could not himself have defined. + +He went to Dounia and gently put his arm round her waist. She did not +resist, but, trembling like a leaf, looked at him with suppliant eyes. +He tried to say something, but his lips moved without being able to +utter a sound. + +“Let me go,” Dounia implored. Svidrigaïlov shuddered. Her voice now was +quite different. + +“Then you don’t love me?” he asked softly. Dounia shook her head. + +“And... and you can’t? Never?” he whispered in despair. + +“Never!” + +There followed a moment of terrible, dumb struggle in the heart of +Svidrigaïlov. He looked at her with an indescribable gaze. Suddenly +he withdrew his arm, turned quickly to the window and stood facing it. +Another moment passed. + +“Here’s the key.” + +He took it out of the left pocket of his coat and laid it on the table +behind him, without turning or looking at Dounia. + +“Take it! Make haste!” + +He looked stubbornly out of the window. Dounia went up to the table to +take the key. + +“Make haste! Make haste!” repeated Svidrigaïlov, still without turning +or moving. But there seemed a terrible significance in the tone of that +“make haste.” + +Dounia understood it, snatched up the key, flew to the door, unlocked it +quickly and rushed out of the room. A minute later, beside herself, she +ran out on to the canal bank in the direction of X. Bridge. + +Svidrigaïlov remained three minutes standing at the window. At last he +slowly turned, looked about him and passed his hand over his forehead. A +strange smile contorted his face, a pitiful, sad, weak smile, a smile of +despair. The blood, which was already getting dry, smeared his hand. +He looked angrily at it, then wetted a towel and washed his temple. +The revolver which Dounia had flung away lay near the door and suddenly +caught his eye. He picked it up and examined it. It was a little pocket +three-barrel revolver of old-fashioned construction. There were still +two charges and one capsule left in it. It could be fired again. He +thought a little, put the revolver in his pocket, took his hat and went +out. + + + +CHAPTER VI + +He spent that evening till ten o’clock going from one low haunt to +another. Katia too turned up and sang another gutter song, how a certain + +“villain and tyrant,” + +“began kissing Katia.” + +Svidrigaïlov treated Katia and the organ-grinder and some singers and +the waiters and two little clerks. He was particularly drawn to these +clerks by the fact that they both had crooked noses, one bent to the +left and the other to the right. They took him finally to a pleasure +garden, where he paid for their entrance. There was one lanky +three-year-old pine-tree and three bushes in the garden, besides a +“Vauxhall,” which was in reality a drinking-bar where tea too was +served, and there were a few green tables and chairs standing round it. +A chorus of wretched singers and a drunken but exceedingly depressed +German clown from Munich with a red nose entertained the public. The +clerks quarrelled with some other clerks and a fight seemed imminent. +Svidrigaïlov was chosen to decide the dispute. He listened to them for +a quarter of an hour, but they shouted so loud that there was no +possibility of understanding them. The only fact that seemed certain was +that one of them had stolen something and had even succeeded in +selling it on the spot to a Jew, but would not share the spoil with his +companion. Finally it appeared that the stolen object was a teaspoon +belonging to the Vauxhall. It was missed and the affair began to seem +troublesome. Svidrigaïlov paid for the spoon, got up, and walked out of +the garden. It was about six o’clock. He had not drunk a drop of wine +all this time and had ordered tea more for the sake of appearances than +anything. + +It was a dark and stifling evening. Threatening storm-clouds came over +the sky about ten o’clock. There was a clap of thunder, and the rain +came down like a waterfall. The water fell not in drops, but beat on the +earth in streams. There were flashes of lightning every minute and each +flash lasted while one could count five. + +Drenched to the skin, he went home, locked himself in, opened the +bureau, took out all his money and tore up two or three papers. Then, +putting the money in his pocket, he was about to change his clothes, +but, looking out of the window and listening to the thunder and the +rain, he gave up the idea, took up his hat and went out of the room +without locking the door. He went straight to Sonia. She was at home. + +She was not alone: the four Kapernaumov children were with her. She +was giving them tea. She received Svidrigaïlov in respectful silence, +looking wonderingly at his soaking clothes. The children all ran away at +once in indescribable terror. + +Svidrigaïlov sat down at the table and asked Sonia to sit beside him. +She timidly prepared to listen. + +“I may be going to America, Sofya Semyonovna,” said Svidrigaïlov, “and +as I am probably seeing you for the last time, I have come to make some +arrangements. Well, did you see the lady to-day? I know what she said to +you, you need not tell me.” (Sonia made a movement and blushed.) “Those +people have their own way of doing things. As to your sisters and your +brother, they are really provided for and the money assigned to them +I’ve put into safe keeping and have received acknowledgments. You had +better take charge of the receipts, in case anything happens. Here, take +them! Well now, that’s settled. Here are three 5-per-cent bonds to the +value of three thousand roubles. Take those for yourself, entirely for +yourself, and let that be strictly between ourselves, so that no one +knows of it, whatever you hear. You will need the money, for to go on +living in the old way, Sofya Semyonovna, is bad, and besides there is no +need for it now.” + +“I am so much indebted to you, and so are the children and my +stepmother,” said Sonia hurriedly, “and if I’ve said so little... please +don’t consider...” + +“That’s enough! that’s enough!” + +“But as for the money, Arkady Ivanovitch, I am very grateful to you, +but I don’t need it now. I can always earn my own living. Don’t think me +ungrateful. If you are so charitable, that money....” + +“It’s for you, for you, Sofya Semyonovna, and please don’t waste words +over it. I haven’t time for it. You will want it. Rodion Romanovitch +has two alternatives: a bullet in the brain or Siberia.” (Sonia looked +wildly at him, and started.) “Don’t be uneasy, I know all about it from +himself and I am not a gossip; I won’t tell anyone. It was good advice +when you told him to give himself up and confess. It would be much +better for him. Well, if it turns out to be Siberia, he will go and +you will follow him. That’s so, isn’t it? And if so, you’ll need money. +You’ll need it for him, do you understand? Giving it to you is the same +as my giving it to him. Besides, you promised Amalia Ivanovna to pay +what’s owing. I heard you. How can you undertake such obligations so +heedlessly, Sofya Semyonovna? It was Katerina Ivanovna’s debt and not +yours, so you ought not to have taken any notice of the German woman. +You can’t get through the world like that. If you are ever questioned +about me--to-morrow or the day after you will be asked--don’t say +anything about my coming to see you now and don’t show the money to +anyone or say a word about it. Well, now good-bye.” (He got up.) “My +greetings to Rodion Romanovitch. By the way, you’d better put the money +for the present in Mr. Razumihin’s keeping. You know Mr. Razumihin? Of +course you do. He’s not a bad fellow. Take it to him to-morrow or... +when the time comes. And till then, hide it carefully.” + +Sonia too jumped up from her chair and looked in dismay at Svidrigaïlov. +She longed to speak, to ask a question, but for the first moments she +did not dare and did not know how to begin. + +“How can you... how can you be going now, in such rain?” + +“Why, be starting for America, and be stopped by rain! Ha, ha! Good-bye, +Sofya Semyonovna, my dear! Live and live long, you will be of use to +others. By the way... tell Mr. Razumihin I send my greetings to him. +Tell him Arkady Ivanovitch Svidrigaïlov sends his greetings. Be sure +to.” + +He went out, leaving Sonia in a state of wondering anxiety and vague +apprehension. + +It appeared afterwards that on the same evening, at twenty past eleven, +he made another very eccentric and unexpected visit. The rain still +persisted. Drenched to the skin, he walked into the little flat where +the parents of his betrothed lived, in Third Street in Vassilyevsky +Island. He knocked some time before he was admitted, and his visit +at first caused great perturbation; but Svidrigaïlov could be +very fascinating when he liked, so that the first, and indeed very +intelligent surmise of the sensible parents that Svidrigaïlov had +probably had so much to drink that he did not know what he was doing +vanished immediately. The decrepit father was wheeled in to see +Svidrigaïlov by the tender and sensible mother, who as usual began the +conversation with various irrelevant questions. She never asked a direct +question, but began by smiling and rubbing her hands and then, if she +were obliged to ascertain something--for instance, when Svidrigaïlov +would like to have the wedding--she would begin by interested and +almost eager questions about Paris and the court life there, and only +by degrees brought the conversation round to Third Street. On other +occasions this had of course been very impressive, but this time Arkady +Ivanovitch seemed particularly impatient, and insisted on seeing his +betrothed at once, though he had been informed, to begin with, that she +had already gone to bed. The girl of course appeared. + +Svidrigaïlov informed her at once that he was obliged by very important +affairs to leave Petersburg for a time, and therefore brought her +fifteen thousand roubles and begged her accept them as a present from +him, as he had long been intending to make her this trifling present +before their wedding. The logical connection of the present with his +immediate departure and the absolute necessity of visiting them for that +purpose in pouring rain at midnight was not made clear. But it all went +off very well; even the inevitable ejaculations of wonder and regret, +the inevitable questions were extraordinarily few and restrained. On the +other hand, the gratitude expressed was most glowing and was reinforced +by tears from the most sensible of mothers. Svidrigaïlov got up, +laughed, kissed his betrothed, patted her cheek, declared he would soon +come back, and noticing in her eyes, together with childish curiosity, a +sort of earnest dumb inquiry, reflected and kissed her again, though +he felt sincere anger inwardly at the thought that his present would be +immediately locked up in the keeping of the most sensible of mothers. He +went away, leaving them all in a state of extraordinary excitement, but +the tender mamma, speaking quietly in a half whisper, settled some of +the most important of their doubts, concluding that Svidrigaïlov was +a great man, a man of great affairs and connections and of great +wealth--there was no knowing what he had in his mind. He would start +off on a journey and give away money just as the fancy took him, so that +there was nothing surprising about it. Of course it was strange that he +was wet through, but Englishmen, for instance, are even more eccentric, +and all these people of high society didn’t think of what was said of +them and didn’t stand on ceremony. Possibly, indeed, he came like that +on purpose to show that he was not afraid of anyone. Above all, not a +word should be said about it, for God knows what might come of it, and +the money must be locked up, and it was most fortunate that Fedosya, the +cook, had not left the kitchen. And above all not a word must be said +to that old cat, Madame Resslich, and so on and so on. They sat up +whispering till two o’clock, but the girl went to bed much earlier, +amazed and rather sorrowful. + +Svidrigaïlov meanwhile, exactly at midnight, crossed the bridge on the +way back to the mainland. The rain had ceased and there was a roaring +wind. He began shivering, and for one moment he gazed at the black +waters of the Little Neva with a look of special interest, even inquiry. +But he soon felt it very cold, standing by the water; he turned and +went towards Y. Prospect. He walked along that endless street for a long +time, almost half an hour, more than once stumbling in the dark on the +wooden pavement, but continually looking for something on the right side +of the street. He had noticed passing through this street lately that +there was a hotel somewhere towards the end, built of wood, but fairly +large, and its name he remembered was something like Adrianople. He was +not mistaken: the hotel was so conspicuous in that God-forsaken place +that he could not fail to see it even in the dark. It was a long, +blackened wooden building, and in spite of the late hour there were +lights in the windows and signs of life within. He went in and asked +a ragged fellow who met him in the corridor for a room. The latter, +scanning Svidrigaïlov, pulled himself together and led him at once to a +close and tiny room in the distance, at the end of the corridor, under +the stairs. There was no other, all were occupied. The ragged fellow +looked inquiringly. + +“Is there tea?” asked Svidrigaïlov. + +“Yes, sir.” + +“What else is there?” + +“Veal, vodka, savouries.” + +“Bring me tea and veal.” + +“And you want nothing else?” he asked with apparent surprise. + +“Nothing, nothing.” + +The ragged man went away, completely disillusioned. + +“It must be a nice place,” thought Svidrigaïlov. “How was it I didn’t +know it? I expect I look as if I came from a café chantant and have +had some adventure on the way. It would be interesting to know who stayed +here?” + +He lighted the candle and looked at the room more carefully. It was a +room so low-pitched that Svidrigaïlov could only just stand up in it; +it had one window; the bed, which was very dirty, and the plain-stained +chair and table almost filled it up. The walls looked as though they +were made of planks, covered with shabby paper, so torn and dusty +that the pattern was indistinguishable, though the general +colour--yellow--could still be made out. One of the walls was cut short +by the sloping ceiling, though the room was not an attic but just under +the stairs. + +Svidrigaïlov set down the candle, sat down on the bed and sank into +thought. But a strange persistent murmur which sometimes rose to a shout +in the next room attracted his attention. The murmur had not ceased from +the moment he entered the room. He listened: someone was upbraiding and +almost tearfully scolding, but he heard only one voice. + +Svidrigaïlov got up, shaded the light with his hand and at once he saw +light through a crack in the wall; he went up and peeped through. The +room, which was somewhat larger than his, had two occupants. One of +them, a very curly-headed man with a red inflamed face, was standing +in the pose of an orator, without his coat, with his legs wide apart to +preserve his balance, and smiting himself on the breast. He reproached +the other with being a beggar, with having no standing whatever. He +declared that he had taken the other out of the gutter and he could turn +him out when he liked, and that only the finger of Providence sees it +all. The object of his reproaches was sitting in a chair, and had the +air of a man who wants dreadfully to sneeze, but can’t. He sometimes +turned sheepish and befogged eyes on the speaker, but obviously had not +the slightest idea what he was talking about and scarcely heard it. A +candle was burning down on the table; there were wine-glasses, a nearly +empty bottle of vodka, bread and cucumber, and glasses with the dregs +of stale tea. After gazing attentively at this, Svidrigaïlov turned away +indifferently and sat down on the bed. + +The ragged attendant, returning with the tea, could not resist asking +him again whether he didn’t want anything more, and again receiving a +negative reply, finally withdrew. Svidrigaïlov made haste to drink a +glass of tea to warm himself, but could not eat anything. He began +to feel feverish. He took off his coat and, wrapping himself in the +blanket, lay down on the bed. He was annoyed. “It would have been better +to be well for the occasion,” he thought with a smile. The room was +close, the candle burnt dimly, the wind was roaring outside, he heard +a mouse scratching in the corner and the room smelt of mice and of +leather. He lay in a sort of reverie: one thought followed another. He +felt a longing to fix his imagination on something. “It must be a garden +under the window,” he thought. “There’s a sound of trees. How I dislike +the sound of trees on a stormy night, in the dark! They give one a +horrid feeling.” He remembered how he had disliked it when he passed +Petrovsky Park just now. This reminded him of the bridge over the Little +Neva and he felt cold again as he had when standing there. “I never have +liked water,” he thought, “even in a landscape,” and he suddenly smiled +again at a strange idea: “Surely now all these questions of taste and +comfort ought not to matter, but I’ve become more particular, like an +animal that picks out a special place... for such an occasion. I ought +to have gone into the Petrovsky Park! I suppose it seemed dark, cold, +ha-ha! As though I were seeking pleasant sensations!... By the way, why +haven’t I put out the candle?” he blew it out. “They’ve gone to bed next +door,” he thought, not seeing the light at the crack. “Well, now, Marfa +Petrovna, now is the time for you to turn up; it’s dark, and the very +time and place for you. But now you won’t come!” + +He suddenly recalled how, an hour before carrying out his design on +Dounia, he had recommended Raskolnikov to trust her to Razumihin’s +keeping. “I suppose I really did say it, as Raskolnikov guessed, to +tease myself. But what a rogue that Raskolnikov is! He’s gone through a +good deal. He may be a successful rogue in time when he’s got over +his nonsense. But now he’s _too_ eager for life. These young men +are contemptible on that point. But, hang the fellow! Let him please +himself, it’s nothing to do with me.” + +He could not get to sleep. By degrees Dounia’s image rose before him, +and a shudder ran over him. “No, I must give up all that now,” he +thought, rousing himself. “I must think of something else. It’s queer +and funny. I never had a great hatred for anyone, I never particularly +desired to avenge myself even, and that’s a bad sign, a bad sign, a bad +sign. I never liked quarrelling either, and never lost my temper--that’s +a bad sign too. And the promises I made her just now, too--Damnation! +But--who knows?--perhaps she would have made a new man of me +somehow....” + +He ground his teeth and sank into silence again. Again Dounia’s image +rose before him, just as she was when, after shooting the first time, +she had lowered the revolver in terror and gazed blankly at him, so that +he might have seized her twice over and she would not have lifted a hand +to defend herself if he had not reminded her. He recalled how at that +instant he felt almost sorry for her, how he had felt a pang at his +heart... + +“Aïe! Damnation, these thoughts again! I must put it away!” + +He was dozing off; the feverish shiver had ceased, when suddenly +something seemed to run over his arm and leg under the bedclothes. He +started. “Ugh! hang it! I believe it’s a mouse,” he thought, “that’s the +veal I left on the table.” He felt fearfully disinclined to pull off the +blanket, get up, get cold, but all at once something unpleasant ran over +his leg again. He pulled off the blanket and lighted the candle. Shaking +with feverish chill he bent down to examine the bed: there was nothing. +He shook the blanket and suddenly a mouse jumped out on the sheet. +He tried to catch it, but the mouse ran to and fro in zigzags without +leaving the bed, slipped between his fingers, ran over his hand and +suddenly darted under the pillow. He threw down the pillow, but in one +instant felt something leap on his chest and dart over his body and down +his back under his shirt. He trembled nervously and woke up. + +The room was dark. He was lying on the bed and wrapped up in the blanket +as before. The wind was howling under the window. “How disgusting,” he +thought with annoyance. + +He got up and sat on the edge of the bedstead with his back to the +window. “It’s better not to sleep at all,” he decided. There was a cold +damp draught from the window, however; without getting up he drew the +blanket over him and wrapped himself in it. He was not thinking of +anything and did not want to think. But one image rose after another, +incoherent scraps of thought without beginning or end passed through his +mind. He sank into drowsiness. Perhaps the cold, or the dampness, or +the dark, or the wind that howled under the window and tossed the trees +roused a sort of persistent craving for the fantastic. He kept dwelling +on images of flowers, he fancied a charming flower garden, a bright, +warm, almost hot day, a holiday--Trinity day. A fine, sumptuous country +cottage in the English taste overgrown with fragrant flowers, with +flower beds going round the house; the porch, wreathed in climbers, was +surrounded with beds of roses. A light, cool staircase, carpeted with +rich rugs, was decorated with rare plants in china pots. He noticed +particularly in the windows nosegays of tender, white, heavily fragrant +narcissus bending over their bright, green, thick long stalks. He was +reluctant to move away from them, but he went up the stairs and came +into a large, high drawing-room and again everywhere--at the windows, +the doors on to the balcony, and on the balcony itself--were flowers. +The floors were strewn with freshly-cut fragrant hay, the windows +were open, a fresh, cool, light air came into the room. The birds were +chirruping under the window, and in the middle of the room, on a table +covered with a white satin shroud, stood a coffin. The coffin was +covered with white silk and edged with a thick white frill; wreaths of +flowers surrounded it on all sides. Among the flowers lay a girl in a +white muslin dress, with her arms crossed and pressed on her bosom, as +though carved out of marble. But her loose fair hair was wet; there was +a wreath of roses on her head. The stern and already rigid profile of +her face looked as though chiselled of marble too, and the smile on her +pale lips was full of an immense unchildish misery and sorrowful appeal. +Svidrigaïlov knew that girl; there was no holy image, no burning candle +beside the coffin; no sound of prayers: the girl had drowned herself. +She was only fourteen, but her heart was broken. And she had destroyed +herself, crushed by an insult that had appalled and amazed that childish +soul, had smirched that angel purity with unmerited disgrace and torn +from her a last scream of despair, unheeded and brutally disregarded, on +a dark night in the cold and wet while the wind howled.... + +Svidrigaïlov came to himself, got up from the bed and went to the +window. He felt for the latch and opened it. The wind lashed furiously +into the little room and stung his face and his chest, only covered with +his shirt, as though with frost. Under the window there must have been +something like a garden, and apparently a pleasure garden. There, too, +probably there were tea-tables and singing in the daytime. Now drops of +rain flew in at the window from the trees and bushes; it was dark as +in a cellar, so that he could only just make out some dark blurs of +objects. Svidrigaïlov, bending down with elbows on the window-sill, +gazed for five minutes into the darkness; the boom of a cannon, followed +by a second one, resounded in the darkness of the night. “Ah, the +signal! The river is overflowing,” he thought. “By morning it will be +swirling down the street in the lower parts, flooding the basements and +cellars. The cellar rats will swim out, and men will curse in the rain +and wind as they drag their rubbish to their upper storeys. What time is +it now?” And he had hardly thought it when, somewhere near, a clock on +the wall, ticking away hurriedly, struck three. + +“Aha! It will be light in an hour! Why wait? I’ll go out at once +straight to the park. I’ll choose a great bush there drenched with rain, +so that as soon as one’s shoulder touches it, millions of drops drip on +one’s head.” + +He moved away from the window, shut it, lighted the candle, put on his +waistcoat, his overcoat and his hat and went out, carrying the candle, +into the passage to look for the ragged attendant who would be asleep +somewhere in the midst of candle-ends and all sorts of rubbish, to pay +him for the room and leave the hotel. “It’s the best minute; I couldn’t +choose a better.” + +He walked for some time through a long narrow corridor without finding +anyone and was just going to call out, when suddenly in a dark corner +between an old cupboard and the door he caught sight of a strange object +which seemed to be alive. He bent down with the candle and saw a little +girl, not more than five years old, shivering and crying, with her +clothes as wet as a soaking house-flannel. She did not seem afraid of +Svidrigaïlov, but looked at him with blank amazement out of her big +black eyes. Now and then she sobbed as children do when they have been +crying a long time, but are beginning to be comforted. The child’s face +was pale and tired, she was numb with cold. “How can she have come here? +She must have hidden here and not slept all night.” He began questioning +her. The child suddenly becoming animated, chattered away in her baby +language, something about “mammy” and that “mammy would beat her,” and +about some cup that she had “bwoken.” The child chattered on without +stopping. He could only guess from what she said that she was a +neglected child, whose mother, probably a drunken cook, in the service +of the hotel, whipped and frightened her; that the child had broken +a cup of her mother’s and was so frightened that she had run away the +evening before, had hidden for a long while somewhere outside in the +rain, at last had made her way in here, hidden behind the cupboard and +spent the night there, crying and trembling from the damp, the darkness +and the fear that she would be badly beaten for it. He took her in his +arms, went back to his room, sat her on the bed, and began undressing +her. The torn shoes which she had on her stockingless feet were as +wet as if they had been standing in a puddle all night. When he had +undressed her, he put her on the bed, covered her up and wrapped her in +the blanket from her head downwards. She fell asleep at once. Then he +sank into dreary musing again. + +“What folly to trouble myself,” he decided suddenly with an oppressive +feeling of annoyance. “What idiocy!” In vexation he took up the candle +to go and look for the ragged attendant again and make haste to go away. +“Damn the child!” he thought as he opened the door, but he turned again +to see whether the child was asleep. He raised the blanket carefully. +The child was sleeping soundly, she had got warm under the blanket, +and her pale cheeks were flushed. But strange to say that flush seemed +brighter and coarser than the rosy cheeks of childhood. “It’s a flush +of fever,” thought Svidrigaïlov. It was like the flush from drinking, as +though she had been given a full glass to drink. Her crimson lips were +hot and glowing; but what was this? He suddenly fancied that her long +black eyelashes were quivering, as though the lids were opening and a +sly crafty eye peeped out with an unchildlike wink, as though the little +girl were not asleep, but pretending. Yes, it was so. Her lips parted in +a smile. The corners of her mouth quivered, as though she were trying to +control them. But now she quite gave up all effort, now it was a grin, +a broad grin; there was something shameless, provocative in that quite +unchildish face; it was depravity, it was the face of a harlot, the +shameless face of a French harlot. Now both eyes opened wide; they +turned a glowing, shameless glance upon him; they laughed, invited +him.... There was something infinitely hideous and shocking in that +laugh, in those eyes, in such nastiness in the face of a child. “What, +at five years old?” Svidrigaïlov muttered in genuine horror. “What does +it mean?” And now she turned to him, her little face all aglow, holding +out her arms.... “Accursed child!” Svidrigaïlov cried, raising his hand +to strike her, but at that moment he woke up. + +He was in the same bed, still wrapped in the blanket. The candle had not +been lighted, and daylight was streaming in at the windows. + +“I’ve had nightmare all night!” He got up angrily, feeling utterly +shattered; his bones ached. There was a thick mist outside and he could +see nothing. It was nearly five. He had overslept himself! He got up, +put on his still damp jacket and overcoat. Feeling the revolver in his +pocket, he took it out and then he sat down, took a notebook out of his +pocket and in the most conspicuous place on the title page wrote a few +lines in large letters. Reading them over, he sank into thought with his +elbows on the table. The revolver and the notebook lay beside him. Some +flies woke up and settled on the untouched veal, which was still on +the table. He stared at them and at last with his free right hand began +trying to catch one. He tried till he was tired, but could not catch it. +At last, realising that he was engaged in this interesting pursuit, he +started, got up and walked resolutely out of the room. A minute later he +was in the street. + +A thick milky mist hung over the town. Svidrigaïlov walked along the +slippery dirty wooden pavement towards the Little Neva. He was picturing +the waters of the Little Neva swollen in the night, Petrovsky Island, +the wet paths, the wet grass, the wet trees and bushes and at last the +bush.... He began ill-humouredly staring at the houses, trying to think +of something else. There was not a cabman or a passer-by in the street. +The bright yellow, wooden, little houses looked dirty and dejected with +their closed shutters. The cold and damp penetrated his whole body and +he began to shiver. From time to time he came across shop signs and read +each carefully. At last he reached the end of the wooden pavement and +came to a big stone house. A dirty, shivering dog crossed his path with +its tail between its legs. A man in a greatcoat lay face downwards; dead +drunk, across the pavement. He looked at him and went on. A high tower +stood up on the left. “Bah!” he shouted, “here is a place. Why should +it be Petrovsky? It will be in the presence of an official witness +anyway....” + +He almost smiled at this new thought and turned into the street where +there was the big house with the tower. At the great closed gates of +the house, a little man stood with his shoulder leaning against them, +wrapped in a grey soldier’s coat, with a copper Achilles helmet on his +head. He cast a drowsy and indifferent glance at Svidrigaïlov. His +face wore that perpetual look of peevish dejection, which is so sourly +printed on all faces of Jewish race without exception. They both, +Svidrigaïlov and Achilles, stared at each other for a few minutes +without speaking. At last it struck Achilles as irregular for a man +not drunk to be standing three steps from him, staring and not saying a +word. + +“What do you want here?” he said, without moving or changing his +position. + +“Nothing, brother, good morning,” answered Svidrigaïlov. + +“This isn’t the place.” + +“I am going to foreign parts, brother.” + +“To foreign parts?” + +“To America.” + +“America.” + +Svidrigaïlov took out the revolver and cocked it. Achilles raised his +eyebrows. + +“I say, this is not the place for such jokes!” + +“Why shouldn’t it be the place?” + +“Because it isn’t.” + +“Well, brother, I don’t mind that. It’s a good place. When you are +asked, you just say he was going, he said, to America.” + +He put the revolver to his right temple. + +“You can’t do it here, it’s not the place,” cried Achilles, rousing +himself, his eyes growing bigger and bigger. + +Svidrigaïlov pulled the trigger. + + + +CHAPTER VII + +The same day, about seven o’clock in the evening, Raskolnikov was on +his way to his mother’s and sister’s lodging--the lodging in Bakaleyev’s +house which Razumihin had found for them. The stairs went up from +the street. Raskolnikov walked with lagging steps, as though still +hesitating whether to go or not. But nothing would have turned him back: +his decision was taken. + +“Besides, it doesn’t matter, they still know nothing,” he thought, “and +they are used to thinking of me as eccentric.” + +He was appallingly dressed: his clothes torn and dirty, soaked with a +night’s rain. His face was almost distorted from fatigue, exposure, the +inward conflict that had lasted for twenty-four hours. He had spent all +the previous night alone, God knows where. But anyway he had reached a +decision. + +He knocked at the door which was opened by his mother. Dounia was not +at home. Even the servant happened to be out. At first Pulcheria +Alexandrovna was speechless with joy and surprise; then she took him by +the hand and drew him into the room. + +“Here you are!” she began, faltering with joy. “Don’t be angry with +me, Rodya, for welcoming you so foolishly with tears: I am laughing not +crying. Did you think I was crying? No, I am delighted, but I’ve got +into such a stupid habit of shedding tears. I’ve been like that ever +since your father’s death. I cry for anything. Sit down, dear boy, you +must be tired; I see you are. Ah, how muddy you are.” + +“I was in the rain yesterday, mother....” Raskolnikov began. + +“No, no,” Pulcheria Alexandrovna hurriedly interrupted, “you thought I +was going to cross-question you in the womanish way I used to; don’t be +anxious, I understand, I understand it all: now I’ve learned the ways +here and truly I see for myself that they are better. I’ve made up my +mind once for all: how could I understand your plans and expect you to +give an account of them? God knows what concerns and plans you may have, +or what ideas you are hatching; so it’s not for me to keep nudging your +elbow, asking you what you are thinking about? But, my goodness! why +am I running to and fro as though I were crazy...? I am reading your +article in the magazine for the third time, Rodya. Dmitri Prokofitch +brought it to me. Directly I saw it I cried out to myself: ‘There, +foolish one,’ I thought, ‘that’s what he is busy about; that’s the +solution of the mystery! Learned people are always like that. He may +have some new ideas in his head just now; he is thinking them over and I +worry him and upset him.’ I read it, my dear, and of course there was a +great deal I did not understand; but that’s only natural--how should I?” + +“Show me, mother.” + +Raskolnikov took the magazine and glanced at his article. Incongruous +as it was with his mood and his circumstances, he felt that strange and +bitter sweet sensation that every author experiences the first time he +sees himself in print; besides, he was only twenty-three. It lasted only +a moment. After reading a few lines he frowned and his heart throbbed +with anguish. He recalled all the inward conflict of the preceding +months. He flung the article on the table with disgust and anger. + +“But, however foolish I may be, Rodya, I can see for myself that you +will very soon be one of the leading--if not the leading man--in the +world of Russian thought. And they dared to think you were mad! You +don’t know, but they really thought that. Ah, the despicable creatures, +how could they understand genius! And Dounia, Dounia was all but +believing it--what do you say to that? Your father sent twice to +magazines--the first time poems (I’ve got the manuscript and will show +you) and the second time a whole novel (I begged him to let me copy it +out) and how we prayed that they should be taken--they weren’t! I was +breaking my heart, Rodya, six or seven days ago over your food and your +clothes and the way you are living. But now I see again how foolish +I was, for you can attain any position you like by your intellect and +talent. No doubt you don’t care about that for the present and you are +occupied with much more important matters....” + +“Dounia’s not at home, mother?” + +“No, Rodya. I often don’t see her; she leaves me alone. Dmitri +Prokofitch comes to see me, it’s so good of him, and he always talks +about you. He loves you and respects you, my dear. I don’t say that +Dounia is very wanting in consideration. I am not complaining. She has +her ways and I have mine; she seems to have got some secrets of late and +I never have any secrets from you two. Of course, I am sure that Dounia +has far too much sense, and besides she loves you and me... but I don’t +know what it will all lead to. You’ve made me so happy by coming now, +Rodya, but she has missed you by going out; when she comes in I’ll tell +her: ‘Your brother came in while you were out. Where have you been all +this time?’ You mustn’t spoil me, Rodya, you know; come when you can, +but if you can’t, it doesn’t matter, I can wait. I shall know, anyway, +that you are fond of me, that will be enough for me. I shall read what +you write, I shall hear about you from everyone, and sometimes you’ll +come yourself to see me. What could be better? Here you’ve come now to +comfort your mother, I see that.” + +Here Pulcheria Alexandrovna began to cry. + +“Here I am again! Don’t mind my foolishness. My goodness, why am I +sitting here?” she cried, jumping up. “There is coffee and I don’t offer +you any. Ah, that’s the selfishness of old age. I’ll get it at once!” + +“Mother, don’t trouble, I am going at once. I haven’t come for that. +Please listen to me.” + +Pulcheria Alexandrovna went up to him timidly. + +“Mother, whatever happens, whatever you hear about me, whatever you are +told about me, will you always love me as you do now?” he asked suddenly +from the fullness of his heart, as though not thinking of his words and +not weighing them. + +“Rodya, Rodya, what is the matter? How can you ask me such a question? +Why, who will tell me anything about you? Besides, I shouldn’t believe +anyone, I should refuse to listen.” + +“I’ve come to assure you that I’ve always loved you and I am glad +that we are alone, even glad Dounia is out,” he went on with the same +impulse. “I have come to tell you that though you will be unhappy, you +must believe that your son loves you now more than himself, and that all +you thought about me, that I was cruel and didn’t care about you, was +all a mistake. I shall never cease to love you.... Well, that’s enough: +I thought I must do this and begin with this....” + +Pulcheria Alexandrovna embraced him in silence, pressing him to her +bosom and weeping gently. + +“I don’t know what is wrong with you, Rodya,” she said at last. “I’ve +been thinking all this time that we were simply boring you and now I see +that there is a great sorrow in store for you, and that’s why you are +miserable. I’ve foreseen it a long time, Rodya. Forgive me for speaking +about it. I keep thinking about it and lie awake at nights. Your sister +lay talking in her sleep all last night, talking of nothing but you. I +caught something, but I couldn’t make it out. I felt all the morning +as though I were going to be hanged, waiting for something, expecting +something, and now it has come! Rodya, Rodya, where are you going? You +are going away somewhere?” + +“Yes.” + +“That’s what I thought! I can come with you, you know, if you need +me. And Dounia, too; she loves you, she loves you dearly--and Sofya +Semyonovna may come with us if you like. You see, I am glad to look upon +her as a daughter even... Dmitri Prokofitch will help us to go together. +But... where... are you going?” + +“Good-bye, mother.” + +“What, to-day?” she cried, as though losing him for ever. + +“I can’t stay, I must go now....” + +“And can’t I come with you?” + +“No, but kneel down and pray to God for me. Your prayer perhaps will +reach Him.” + +“Let me bless you and sign you with the cross. That’s right, that’s +right. Oh, God, what are we doing?” + +Yes, he was glad, he was very glad that there was no one there, that +he was alone with his mother. For the first time after all those awful +months his heart was softened. He fell down before her, he kissed her +feet and both wept, embracing. And she was not surprised and did not +question him this time. For some days she had realised that something +awful was happening to her son and that now some terrible minute had +come for him. + +“Rodya, my darling, my first born,” she said sobbing, “now you are just +as when you were little. You would run like this to me and hug me and +kiss me. When your father was living and we were poor, you comforted us +simply by being with us and when I buried your father, how often we +wept together at his grave and embraced, as now. And if I’ve been crying +lately, it’s that my mother’s heart had a foreboding of trouble. The +first time I saw you, that evening, you remember, as soon as we arrived +here, I guessed simply from your eyes. My heart sank at once, and to-day +when I opened the door and looked at you, I thought the fatal hour had +come. Rodya, Rodya, you are not going away to-day?” + +“No!” + +“You’ll come again?” + +“Yes... I’ll come.” + +“Rodya, don’t be angry, I don’t dare to question you. I know I mustn’t. +Only say two words to me--is it far where you are going?” + +“Very far.” + +“What is awaiting you there? Some post or career for you?” + +“What God sends... only pray for me.” Raskolnikov went to the door, but +she clutched him and gazed despairingly into his eyes. Her face worked +with terror. + +“Enough, mother,” said Raskolnikov, deeply regretting that he had come. + +“Not for ever, it’s not yet for ever? You’ll come, you’ll come +to-morrow?” + +“I will, I will, good-bye.” He tore himself away at last. + +It was a warm, fresh, bright evening; it had cleared up in the morning. +Raskolnikov went to his lodgings; he made haste. He wanted to finish all +before sunset. He did not want to meet anyone till then. Going up the +stairs he noticed that Nastasya rushed from the samovar to watch him +intently. “Can anyone have come to see me?” he wondered. He had a +disgusted vision of Porfiry. But opening his door he saw Dounia. She +was sitting alone, plunged in deep thought, and looked as though she had +been waiting a long time. He stopped short in the doorway. She rose from +the sofa in dismay and stood up facing him. Her eyes, fixed upon him, +betrayed horror and infinite grief. And from those eyes alone he saw at +once that she knew. + +“Am I to come in or go away?” he asked uncertainly. + +“I’ve been all day with Sofya Semyonovna. We were both waiting for you. +We thought that you would be sure to come there.” + +Raskolnikov went into the room and sank exhausted on a chair. + +“I feel weak, Dounia, I am very tired; and I should have liked at this +moment to be able to control myself.” + +He glanced at her mistrustfully. + +“Where were you all night?” + +“I don’t remember clearly. You see, sister, I wanted to make up my mind +once for all, and several times I walked by the Neva, I remember that +I wanted to end it all there, but... I couldn’t make up my mind,” he +whispered, looking at her mistrustfully again. + +“Thank God! That was just what we were afraid of, Sofya Semyonovna and +I. Then you still have faith in life? Thank God, thank God!” + +Raskolnikov smiled bitterly. + +“I haven’t faith, but I have just been weeping in mother’s arms; I +haven’t faith, but I have just asked her to pray for me. I don’t know +how it is, Dounia, I don’t understand it.” + +“Have you been at mother’s? Have you told her?” cried Dounia, +horror-stricken. “Surely you haven’t done that?” + +“No, I didn’t tell her... in words; but she understood a great deal. +She heard you talking in your sleep. I am sure she half understands it +already. Perhaps I did wrong in going to see her. I don’t know why I did +go. I am a contemptible person, Dounia.” + +“A contemptible person, but ready to face suffering! You are, aren’t +you?” + +“Yes, I am going. At once. Yes, to escape the disgrace I thought of +drowning myself, Dounia, but as I looked into the water, I thought that +if I had considered myself strong till now I’d better not be afraid of +disgrace,” he said, hurrying on. “It’s pride, Dounia.” + +“Pride, Rodya.” + +There was a gleam of fire in his lustreless eyes; he seemed to be glad +to think that he was still proud. + +“You don’t think, sister, that I was simply afraid of the water?” he +asked, looking into her face with a sinister smile. + +“Oh, Rodya, hush!” cried Dounia bitterly. Silence lasted for two +minutes. He sat with his eyes fixed on the floor; Dounia stood at the +other end of the table and looked at him with anguish. Suddenly he got +up. + +“It’s late, it’s time to go! I am going at once to give myself up. But I +don’t know why I am going to give myself up.” + +Big tears fell down her cheeks. + +“You are crying, sister, but can you hold out your hand to me?” + +“You doubted it?” + +She threw her arms round him. + +“Aren’t you half expiating your crime by facing the suffering?” she +cried, holding him close and kissing him. + +“Crime? What crime?” he cried in sudden fury. “That I killed a vile +noxious insect, an old pawnbroker woman, of use to no one!... Killing +her was atonement for forty sins. She was sucking the life out of poor +people. Was that a crime? I am not thinking of it and I am not thinking +of expiating it, and why are you all rubbing it in on all sides? ‘A +crime! a crime!’ Only now I see clearly the imbecility of my cowardice, +now that I have decided to face this superfluous disgrace. It’s simply +because I am contemptible and have nothing in me that I have decided to, +perhaps too for my advantage, as that... Porfiry... suggested!” + +“Brother, brother, what are you saying? Why, you have shed blood?” cried +Dounia in despair. + +“Which all men shed,” he put in almost frantically, “which flows and has +always flowed in streams, which is spilt like champagne, and for which +men are crowned in the Capitol and are called afterwards benefactors of +mankind. Look into it more carefully and understand it! I too wanted to +do good to men and would have done hundreds, thousands of good deeds +to make up for that one piece of stupidity, not stupidity even, simply +clumsiness, for the idea was by no means so stupid as it seems now +that it has failed.... (Everything seems stupid when it fails.) By that +stupidity I only wanted to put myself into an independent position, to +take the first step, to obtain means, and then everything would have +been smoothed over by benefits immeasurable in comparison.... But I... +I couldn’t carry out even the first step, because I am contemptible, +that’s what’s the matter! And yet I won’t look at it as you do. If I had +succeeded I should have been crowned with glory, but now I’m trapped.” + +“But that’s not so, not so! Brother, what are you saying?” + +“Ah, it’s not picturesque, not æsthetically attractive! I fail to +understand why bombarding people by regular siege is more honourable. +The fear of appearances is the first symptom of impotence. I’ve never, +never recognised this more clearly than now, and I am further than ever +from seeing that what I did was a crime. I’ve never, never been stronger +and more convinced than now.” + +The colour had rushed into his pale exhausted face, but as he uttered +his last explanation, he happened to meet Dounia’s eyes and he saw such +anguish in them that he could not help being checked. He felt that he +had, anyway, made these two poor women miserable, that he was, anyway, +the cause... + +“Dounia darling, if I am guilty forgive me (though I cannot be forgiven +if I am guilty). Good-bye! We won’t dispute. It’s time, high time to go. +Don’t follow me, I beseech you, I have somewhere else to go.... But you +go at once and sit with mother. I entreat you to! It’s my last request +of you. Don’t leave her at all; I left her in a state of anxiety, that +she is not fit to bear; she will die or go out of her mind. Be with +her! Razumihin will be with you. I’ve been talking to him.... Don’t cry +about me: I’ll try to be honest and manly all my life, even if I am a +murderer. Perhaps I shall some day make a name. I won’t disgrace you, +you will see; I’ll still show.... Now good-bye for the present,” he +concluded hurriedly, noticing again a strange expression in Dounia’s +eyes at his last words and promises. “Why are you crying? Don’t cry, +don’t cry: we are not parting for ever! Ah, yes! Wait a minute, I’d +forgotten!” + +He went to the table, took up a thick dusty book, opened it and took +from between the pages a little water-colour portrait on ivory. It was +the portrait of his landlady’s daughter, who had died of fever, that +strange girl who had wanted to be a nun. For a minute he gazed at the +delicate expressive face of his betrothed, kissed the portrait and gave +it to Dounia. + +“I used to talk a great deal about it to her, only to her,” he said +thoughtfully. “To her heart I confided much of what has since been so +hideously realised. Don’t be uneasy,” he returned to Dounia, “she was +as much opposed to it as you, and I am glad that she is gone. The great +point is that everything now is going to be different, is going to +be broken in two,” he cried, suddenly returning to his dejection. +“Everything, everything, and am I prepared for it? Do I want it myself? +They say it is necessary for me to suffer! What’s the object of these +senseless sufferings? shall I know any better what they are for, when I +am crushed by hardships and idiocy, and weak as an old man after twenty +years’ penal servitude? And what shall I have to live for then? Why am I +consenting to that life now? Oh, I knew I was contemptible when I stood +looking at the Neva at daybreak to-day!” + +At last they both went out. It was hard for Dounia, but she loved him. +She walked away, but after going fifty paces she turned round to look +at him again. He was still in sight. At the corner he too turned and for +the last time their eyes met; but noticing that she was looking at him, +he motioned her away with impatience and even vexation, and turned the +corner abruptly. + +“I am wicked, I see that,” he thought to himself, feeling ashamed a +moment later of his angry gesture to Dounia. “But why are they so fond +of me if I don’t deserve it? Oh, if only I were alone and no one loved +me and I too had never loved anyone! _Nothing of all this would have +happened._ But I wonder shall I in those fifteen or twenty years grow so +meek that I shall humble myself before people and whimper at every word +that I am a criminal? Yes, that’s it, that’s it, that’s what they are +sending me there for, that’s what they want. Look at them running to and +fro about the streets, every one of them a scoundrel and a criminal at +heart and, worse still, an idiot. But try to get me off and they’d be +wild with righteous indignation. Oh, how I hate them all!” + +He fell to musing by what process it could come to pass, that he could +be humbled before all of them, indiscriminately--humbled by conviction. +And yet why not? It must be so. Would not twenty years of continual +bondage crush him utterly? Water wears out a stone. And why, why should +he live after that? Why should he go now when he knew that it would be +so? It was the hundredth time perhaps that he had asked himself that +question since the previous evening, but still he went. + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +When he went into Sonia’s room, it was already getting dark. All day +Sonia had been waiting for him in terrible anxiety. Dounia had been +waiting with her. She had come to her that morning, remembering +Svidrigaïlov’s words that Sonia knew. We will not describe the +conversation and tears of the two girls, and how friendly they became. +Dounia gained one comfort at least from that interview, that her +brother would not be alone. He had gone to her, Sonia, first with his +confession; he had gone to her for human fellowship when he needed it; +she would go with him wherever fate might send him. Dounia did not ask, +but she knew it was so. She looked at Sonia almost with reverence and +at first almost embarrassed her by it. Sonia was almost on the point +of tears. She felt herself, on the contrary, hardly worthy to look at +Dounia. Dounia’s gracious image when she had bowed to her so attentively +and respectfully at their first meeting in Raskolnikov’s room had +remained in her mind as one of the fairest visions of her life. + +Dounia at last became impatient and, leaving Sonia, went to her +brother’s room to await him there; she kept thinking that he would come +there first. When she had gone, Sonia began to be tortured by the dread +of his committing suicide, and Dounia too feared it. But they had spent +the day trying to persuade each other that that could not be, and both +were less anxious while they were together. As soon as they parted, each +thought of nothing else. Sonia remembered how Svidrigaïlov had said to +her the day before that Raskolnikov had two alternatives--Siberia or... +Besides she knew his vanity, his pride and his lack of faith. + +“Is it possible that he has nothing but cowardice and fear of death to +make him live?” she thought at last in despair. + +Meanwhile the sun was setting. Sonia was standing in dejection, looking +intently out of the window, but from it she could see nothing but the +unwhitewashed blank wall of the next house. At last when she began to +feel sure of his death--he walked into the room. + +She gave a cry of joy, but looking carefully into his face she turned +pale. + +“Yes,” said Raskolnikov, smiling. “I have come for your cross, Sonia. It +was you told me to go to the cross-roads; why is it you are frightened +now it’s come to that?” + +Sonia gazed at him astonished. His tone seemed strange to her; a cold +shiver ran over her, but in a moment she guessed that the tone and the +words were a mask. He spoke to her looking away, as though to avoid +meeting her eyes. + +“You see, Sonia, I’ve decided that it will be better so. There is one +fact.... But it’s a long story and there’s no need to discuss it. But +do you know what angers me? It annoys me that all those stupid brutish +faces will be gaping at me directly, pestering me with their stupid +questions, which I shall have to answer--they’ll point their fingers at +me.... Tfoo! You know I am not going to Porfiry, I am sick of him. I’d +rather go to my friend, the Explosive Lieutenant; how I shall surprise +him, what a sensation I shall make! But I must be cooler; I’ve become +too irritable of late. You know I was nearly shaking my fist at my +sister just now, because she turned to take a last look at me. It’s +a brutal state to be in! Ah! what am I coming to! Well, where are the +crosses?” + +He seemed hardly to know what he was doing. He could not stay still or +concentrate his attention on anything; his ideas seemed to gallop after +one another, he talked incoherently, his hands trembled slightly. + +Without a word Sonia took out of the drawer two crosses, one of cypress +wood and one of copper. She made the sign of the cross over herself and +over him, and put the wooden cross on his neck. + +“It’s the symbol of my taking up the cross,” he laughed. “As though I +had not suffered much till now! The wooden cross, that is the peasant +one; the copper one, that is Lizaveta’s--you will wear yourself, show +me! So she had it on... at that moment? I remember two things like +these too, a silver one and a little ikon. I threw them back on the old +woman’s neck. Those would be appropriate now, really, those are what I +ought to put on now.... But I am talking nonsense and forgetting what +matters; I’m somehow forgetful.... You see I have come to warn you, +Sonia, so that you might know... that’s all--that’s all I came for. But +I thought I had more to say. You wanted me to go yourself. Well, now I +am going to prison and you’ll have your wish. Well, what are you crying +for? You too? Don’t. Leave off! Oh, how I hate it all!” + +But his feeling was stirred; his heart ached, as he looked at her. “Why +is she grieving too?” he thought to himself. “What am I to her? Why does +she weep? Why is she looking after me, like my mother or Dounia? She’ll +be my nurse.” + +“Cross yourself, say at least one prayer,” Sonia begged in a timid +broken voice. + +“Oh certainly, as much as you like! And sincerely, Sonia, sincerely....” + +But he wanted to say something quite different. + +He crossed himself several times. Sonia took up her shawl and put +it over her head. It was the green _drap de dames_ shawl of which +Marmeladov had spoken, “the family shawl.” Raskolnikov thought of that +looking at it, but he did not ask. He began to feel himself that he +was certainly forgetting things and was disgustingly agitated. He was +frightened at this. He was suddenly struck too by the thought that Sonia +meant to go with him. + +“What are you doing? Where are you going? Stay here, stay! I’ll go +alone,” he cried in cowardly vexation, and almost resentful, he moved +towards the door. “What’s the use of going in procession?” he muttered +going out. + +Sonia remained standing in the middle of the room. He had not even said +good-bye to her; he had forgotten her. A poignant and rebellious doubt +surged in his heart. + +“Was it right, was it right, all this?” he thought again as he went down +the stairs. “Couldn’t he stop and retract it all... and not go?” + +But still he went. He felt suddenly once for all that he mustn’t ask +himself questions. As he turned into the street he remembered that he +had not said good-bye to Sonia, that he had left her in the middle of +the room in her green shawl, not daring to stir after he had shouted +at her, and he stopped short for a moment. At the same instant, another +thought dawned upon him, as though it had been lying in wait to strike +him then. + +“Why, with what object did I go to her just now? I told her--on +business; on what business? I had no sort of business! To tell her I was +_going_; but where was the need? Do I love her? No, no, I drove her away +just now like a dog. Did I want her crosses? Oh, how low I’ve sunk! No, +I wanted her tears, I wanted to see her terror, to see how her heart +ached! I had to have something to cling to, something to delay me, some +friendly face to see! And I dared to believe in myself, to dream of what +I would do! I am a beggarly contemptible wretch, contemptible!” + +He walked along the canal bank, and he had not much further to go. But +on reaching the bridge he stopped and turning out of his way along it +went to the Hay Market. + +He looked eagerly to right and left, gazed intently at every object and +could not fix his attention on anything; everything slipped away. “In +another week, another month I shall be driven in a prison van over this +bridge, how shall I look at the canal then? I should like to remember +this!” slipped into his mind. “Look at this sign! How shall I read those +letters then? It’s written here ‘Campany,’ that’s a thing to remember, +that letter _a_, and to look at it again in a month--how shall I look +at it then? What shall I be feeling and thinking then?... How trivial +it all must be, what I am fretting about now! Of course it must all be +interesting... in its way... (Ha-ha-ha! What am I thinking about?) I am +becoming a baby, I am showing off to myself; why am I ashamed? Foo! how +people shove! that fat man--a German he must be--who pushed against +me, does he know whom he pushed? There’s a peasant woman with a baby, +begging. It’s curious that she thinks me happier than she is. I might +give her something, for the incongruity of it. Here’s a five copeck +piece left in my pocket, where did I get it? Here, here... take it, my +good woman!” + +“God bless you,” the beggar chanted in a lachrymose voice. + +He went into the Hay Market. It was distasteful, very distasteful to be +in a crowd, but he walked just where he saw most people. He would have +given anything in the world to be alone; but he knew himself that he +would not have remained alone for a moment. There was a man drunk and +disorderly in the crowd; he kept trying to dance and falling down. There +was a ring round him. Raskolnikov squeezed his way through the crowd, +stared for some minutes at the drunken man and suddenly gave a short +jerky laugh. A minute later he had forgotten him and did not see him, +though he still stared. He moved away at last, not remembering where he +was; but when he got into the middle of the square an emotion suddenly +came over him, overwhelming him body and mind. + +He suddenly recalled Sonia’s words, “Go to the cross-roads, bow down to +the people, kiss the earth, for you have sinned against it too, and say +aloud to the whole world, ‘I am a murderer.’” He trembled, remembering +that. And the hopeless misery and anxiety of all that time, especially +of the last hours, had weighed so heavily upon him that he positively +clutched at the chance of this new unmixed, complete sensation. It came +over him like a fit; it was like a single spark kindled in his soul and +spreading fire through him. Everything in him softened at once and the +tears started into his eyes. He fell to the earth on the spot.... + +He knelt down in the middle of the square, bowed down to the earth, and +kissed that filthy earth with bliss and rapture. He got up and bowed +down a second time. + +“He’s boozed,” a youth near him observed. + +There was a roar of laughter. + +“He’s going to Jerusalem, brothers, and saying good-bye to his children +and his country. He’s bowing down to all the world and kissing the great +city of St. Petersburg and its pavement,” added a workman who was a +little drunk. + +“Quite a young man, too!” observed a third. + +“And a gentleman,” someone observed soberly. + +“There’s no knowing who’s a gentleman and who isn’t nowadays.” + +These exclamations and remarks checked Raskolnikov, and the words, “I am +a murderer,” which were perhaps on the point of dropping from his lips, +died away. He bore these remarks quietly, however, and, without looking +round, he turned down a street leading to the police office. He had a +glimpse of something on the way which did not surprise him; he had felt +that it must be so. The second time he bowed down in the Hay Market he +saw, standing fifty paces from him on the left, Sonia. She was hiding +from him behind one of the wooden shanties in the market-place. She had +followed him then on his painful way! Raskolnikov at that moment felt +and knew once for all that Sonia was with him for ever and would follow +him to the ends of the earth, wherever fate might take him. It wrung his +heart... but he was just reaching the fatal place. + +He went into the yard fairly resolutely. He had to mount to the third +storey. “I shall be some time going up,” he thought. He felt as though +the fateful moment was still far off, as though he had plenty of time +left for consideration. + +Again the same rubbish, the same eggshells lying about on the spiral +stairs, again the open doors of the flats, again the same kitchens and +the same fumes and stench coming from them. Raskolnikov had not been +here since that day. His legs were numb and gave way under him, but +still they moved forward. He stopped for a moment to take breath, to +collect himself, so as to enter _like a man_. “But why? what for?” he +wondered, reflecting. “If I must drink the cup what difference does it +make? The more revolting the better.” He imagined for an instant the +figure of the “explosive lieutenant,” Ilya Petrovitch. Was he actually +going to him? Couldn’t he go to someone else? To Nikodim Fomitch? +Couldn’t he turn back and go straight to Nikodim Fomitch’s lodgings? +At least then it would be done privately.... No, no! To the “explosive +lieutenant”! If he must drink it, drink it off at once. + +Turning cold and hardly conscious, he opened the door of the office. +There were very few people in it this time--only a house porter and a +peasant. The doorkeeper did not even peep out from behind his screen. +Raskolnikov walked into the next room. “Perhaps I still need not speak,” + passed through his mind. Some sort of clerk not wearing a uniform was +settling himself at a bureau to write. In a corner another clerk was +seating himself. Zametov was not there, nor, of course, Nikodim Fomitch. + +“No one in?” Raskolnikov asked, addressing the person at the bureau. + +“Whom do you want?” + +“A-ah! Not a sound was heard, not a sight was seen, but I scent the +Russian... how does it go on in the fairy tale... I’ve forgotten! ‘At +your service!’” a familiar voice cried suddenly. + +Raskolnikov shuddered. The Explosive Lieutenant stood before him. He +had just come in from the third room. “It is the hand of fate,” thought +Raskolnikov. “Why is he here?” + +“You’ve come to see us? What about?” cried Ilya Petrovitch. He +was obviously in an exceedingly good humour and perhaps a trifle +exhilarated. “If it’s on business you are rather early.[*] It’s only a +chance that I am here... however I’ll do what I can. I must admit, I... +what is it, what is it? Excuse me....” + + [*] Dostoevsky appears to have forgotten that it is after + sunset, and that the last time Raskolnikov visited the + police office at two in the afternoon he was reproached for + coming too late.--TRANSLATOR. + +“Raskolnikov.” + +“Of course, Raskolnikov. You didn’t imagine I’d forgotten? Don’t think I +am like that... Rodion Ro--Ro--Rodionovitch, that’s it, isn’t it?” + +“Rodion Romanovitch.” + +“Yes, yes, of course, Rodion Romanovitch! I was just getting at it. I +made many inquiries about you. I assure you I’ve been genuinely grieved +since that... since I behaved like that... it was explained to me +afterwards that you were a literary man... and a learned one too... and +so to say the first steps... Mercy on us! What literary or scientific +man does not begin by some originality of conduct! My wife and I have +the greatest respect for literature, in my wife it’s a genuine passion! +Literature and art! If only a man is a gentleman, all the rest can be +gained by talents, learning, good sense, genius. As for a hat--well, +what does a hat matter? I can buy a hat as easily as I can a bun; but +what’s under the hat, what the hat covers, I can’t buy that! I was even +meaning to come and apologise to you, but thought maybe you’d... But I +am forgetting to ask you, is there anything you want really? I hear your +family have come?” + +“Yes, my mother and sister.” + +“I’ve even had the honour and happiness of meeting your sister--a highly +cultivated and charming person. I confess I was sorry I got so hot with +you. There it is! But as for my looking suspiciously at your fainting +fit--that affair has been cleared up splendidly! Bigotry and fanaticism! +I understand your indignation. Perhaps you are changing your lodging on +account of your family’s arriving?” + +“No, I only looked in... I came to ask... I thought that I should find +Zametov here.” + +“Oh, yes! Of course, you’ve made friends, I heard. Well, no, Zametov is +not here. Yes, we’ve lost Zametov. He’s not been here since yesterday... +he quarrelled with everyone on leaving... in the rudest way. He is a +feather-headed youngster, that’s all; one might have expected something +from him, but there, you know what they are, our brilliant young men. +He wanted to go in for some examination, but it’s only to talk and +boast about it, it will go no further than that. Of course it’s a very +different matter with you or Mr. Razumihin there, your friend. Your +career is an intellectual one and you won’t be deterred by failure. For +you, one may say, all the attractions of life _nihil est_--you are an +ascetic, a monk, a hermit!... A book, a pen behind your ear, a learned +research--that’s where your spirit soars! I am the same way myself.... +Have you read Livingstone’s Travels?” + +“No.” + +“Oh, I have. There are a great many Nihilists about nowadays, you know, +and indeed it is not to be wondered at. What sort of days are they? I +ask you. But we thought... you are not a Nihilist of course? Answer me +openly, openly!” + +“N-no...” + +“Believe me, you can speak openly to me as you would to yourself! +Official duty is one thing but... you are thinking I meant to say +_friendship_ is quite another? No, you’re wrong! It’s not friendship, +but the feeling of a man and a citizen, the feeling of humanity and of +love for the Almighty. I may be an official, but I am always bound +to feel myself a man and a citizen.... You were asking about Zametov. +Zametov will make a scandal in the French style in a house of bad +reputation, over a glass of champagne... that’s all your Zametov is good +for! While I’m perhaps, so to speak, burning with devotion and lofty +feelings, and besides I have rank, consequence, a post! I am married and +have children, I fulfil the duties of a man and a citizen, but who is +he, may I ask? I appeal to you as a man ennobled by education... Then +these midwives, too, have become extraordinarily numerous.” + +Raskolnikov raised his eyebrows inquiringly. The words of Ilya +Petrovitch, who had obviously been dining, were for the most part a +stream of empty sounds for him. But some of them he understood. He +looked at him inquiringly, not knowing how it would end. + +“I mean those crop-headed wenches,” the talkative Ilya Petrovitch +continued. “Midwives is my name for them. I think it a very satisfactory +one, ha-ha! They go to the Academy, study anatomy. If I fall ill, am +I to send for a young lady to treat me? What do you say? Ha-ha!” Ilya +Petrovitch laughed, quite pleased with his own wit. “It’s an immoderate +zeal for education, but once you’re educated, that’s enough. Why abuse +it? Why insult honourable people, as that scoundrel Zametov does? Why +did he insult me, I ask you? Look at these suicides, too, how common +they are, you can’t fancy! People spend their last halfpenny and kill +themselves, boys and girls and old people. Only this morning we heard +about a gentleman who had just come to town. Nil Pavlitch, I say, what +was the name of that gentleman who shot himself?” + +“Svidrigaïlov,” someone answered from the other room with drowsy +listlessness. + +Raskolnikov started. + +“Svidrigaïlov! Svidrigaïlov has shot himself!” he cried. + +“What, do you know Svidrigaïlov?” + +“Yes... I knew him.... He hadn’t been here long.” + +“Yes, that’s so. He had lost his wife, was a man of reckless habits and +all of a sudden shot himself, and in such a shocking way.... He left +in his notebook a few words: that he dies in full possession of his +faculties and that no one is to blame for his death. He had money, they +say. How did you come to know him?” + +“I... was acquainted... my sister was governess in his family.” + +“Bah-bah-bah! Then no doubt you can tell us something about him. You had +no suspicion?” + +“I saw him yesterday... he... was drinking wine; I knew nothing.” + +Raskolnikov felt as though something had fallen on him and was stifling +him. + +“You’ve turned pale again. It’s so stuffy here...” + +“Yes, I must go,” muttered Raskolnikov. “Excuse my troubling you....” + +“Oh, not at all, as often as you like. It’s a pleasure to see you and I +am glad to say so.” + +Ilya Petrovitch held out his hand. + +“I only wanted... I came to see Zametov.” + +“I understand, I understand, and it’s a pleasure to see you.” + +“I... am very glad... good-bye,” Raskolnikov smiled. + +He went out; he reeled, he was overtaken with giddiness and did not know +what he was doing. He began going down the stairs, supporting himself +with his right hand against the wall. He fancied that a porter pushed +past him on his way upstairs to the police office, that a dog in +the lower storey kept up a shrill barking and that a woman flung a +rolling-pin at it and shouted. He went down and out into the yard. +There, not far from the entrance, stood Sonia, pale and horror-stricken. +She looked wildly at him. He stood still before her. There was a look of +poignant agony, of despair, in her face. She clasped her hands. His lips +worked in an ugly, meaningless smile. He stood still a minute, grinned +and went back to the police office. + +Ilya Petrovitch had sat down and was rummaging among some papers. Before +him stood the same peasant who had pushed by on the stairs. + +“Hulloa! Back again! have you left something behind? What’s the matter?” + +Raskolnikov, with white lips and staring eyes, came slowly nearer. +He walked right to the table, leaned his hand on it, tried to say +something, but could not; only incoherent sounds were audible. + +“You are feeling ill, a chair! Here, sit down! Some water!” + +Raskolnikov dropped on to a chair, but he kept his eyes fixed on the +face of Ilya Petrovitch, which expressed unpleasant surprise. Both +looked at one another for a minute and waited. Water was brought. + +“It was I...” began Raskolnikov. + +“Drink some water.” + +Raskolnikov refused the water with his hand, and softly and brokenly, +but distinctly said: + +“_It was I killed the old pawnbroker woman and her sister Lizaveta with +an axe and robbed them._” + +Ilya Petrovitch opened his mouth. People ran up on all sides. + +Raskolnikov repeated his statement. + + + +EPILOGUE + +I + +Siberia. On the banks of a broad solitary river stands a town, one of +the administrative centres of Russia; in the town there is a fortress, +in the fortress there is a prison. In the prison the second-class +convict Rodion Raskolnikov has been confined for nine months. Almost a +year and a half has passed since his crime. + +There had been little difficulty about his trial. The criminal adhered +exactly, firmly, and clearly to his statement. He did not confuse nor +misrepresent the facts, nor soften them in his own interest, nor omit +the smallest detail. He explained every incident of the murder, the +secret of _the pledge_ (the piece of wood with a strip of metal) which +was found in the murdered woman’s hand. He described minutely how he +had taken her keys, what they were like, as well as the chest and its +contents; he explained the mystery of Lizaveta’s murder; described how +Koch and, after him, the student knocked, and repeated all they had said +to one another; how he afterwards had run downstairs and heard Nikolay +and Dmitri shouting; how he had hidden in the empty flat and afterwards +gone home. He ended by indicating the stone in the yard off the +Voznesensky Prospect under which the purse and the trinkets were found. +The whole thing, in fact, was perfectly clear. The lawyers and the +judges were very much struck, among other things, by the fact that he +had hidden the trinkets and the purse under a stone, without making +use of them, and that, what was more, he did not now remember what the +trinkets were like, or even how many there were. The fact that he had +never opened the purse and did not even know how much was in it seemed +incredible. There turned out to be in the purse three hundred and +seventeen roubles and sixty copecks. From being so long under the stone, +some of the most valuable notes lying uppermost had suffered from the +damp. They were a long while trying to discover why the accused man +should tell a lie about this, when about everything else he had made +a truthful and straightforward confession. Finally some of the lawyers +more versed in psychology admitted that it was possible he had really +not looked into the purse, and so didn’t know what was in it when he +hid it under the stone. But they immediately drew the deduction that +the crime could only have been committed through temporary mental +derangement, through homicidal mania, without object or the pursuit of +gain. This fell in with the most recent fashionable theory of temporary +insanity, so often applied in our days in criminal cases. Moreover +Raskolnikov’s hypochondriacal condition was proved by many witnesses, by +Dr. Zossimov, his former fellow students, his landlady and her servant. +All this pointed strongly to the conclusion that Raskolnikov was not +quite like an ordinary murderer and robber, but that there was another +element in the case. + +To the intense annoyance of those who maintained this opinion, the +criminal scarcely attempted to defend himself. To the decisive question +as to what motive impelled him to the murder and the robbery, he +answered very clearly with the coarsest frankness that the cause was +his miserable position, his poverty and helplessness, and his desire to +provide for his first steps in life by the help of the three thousand +roubles he had reckoned on finding. He had been led to the murder +through his shallow and cowardly nature, exasperated moreover by +privation and failure. To the question what led him to confess, he +answered that it was his heartfelt repentance. All this was almost +coarse.... + +The sentence however was more merciful than could have been expected, +perhaps partly because the criminal had not tried to justify himself, +but had rather shown a desire to exaggerate his guilt. All the strange +and peculiar circumstances of the crime were taken into consideration. +There could be no doubt of the abnormal and poverty-stricken condition +of the criminal at the time. The fact that he had made no use of what he +had stolen was put down partly to the effect of remorse, partly to his +abnormal mental condition at the time of the crime. Incidentally the +murder of Lizaveta served indeed to confirm the last hypothesis: a man +commits two murders and forgets that the door is open! Finally, the +confession, at the very moment when the case was hopelessly muddled by +the false evidence given by Nikolay through melancholy and fanaticism, +and when, moreover, there were no proofs against the real criminal, no +suspicions even (Porfiry Petrovitch fully kept his word)--all this did +much to soften the sentence. Other circumstances, too, in the prisoner’s +favour came out quite unexpectedly. Razumihin somehow discovered and +proved that while Raskolnikov was at the university he had helped a poor +consumptive fellow student and had spent his last penny on supporting +him for six months, and when this student died, leaving a decrepit +old father whom he had maintained almost from his thirteenth year, +Raskolnikov had got the old man into a hospital and paid for his funeral +when he died. Raskolnikov’s landlady bore witness, too, that when they +had lived in another house at Five Corners, Raskolnikov had rescued two +little children from a house on fire and was burnt in doing so. This was +investigated and fairly well confirmed by many witnesses. These facts +made an impression in his favour. + +And in the end the criminal was, in consideration of extenuating +circumstances, condemned to penal servitude in the second class for a +term of eight years only. + +At the very beginning of the trial Raskolnikov’s mother fell ill. Dounia +and Razumihin found it possible to get her out of Petersburg during the +trial. Razumihin chose a town on the railway not far from Petersburg, so +as to be able to follow every step of the trial and at the same time +to see Avdotya Romanovna as often as possible. Pulcheria Alexandrovna’s +illness was a strange nervous one and was accompanied by a partial +derangement of her intellect. + +When Dounia returned from her last interview with her brother, she +had found her mother already ill, in feverish delirium. That evening +Razumihin and she agreed what answers they must make to her mother’s +questions about Raskolnikov and made up a complete story for her +mother’s benefit of his having to go away to a distant part of Russia +on a business commission, which would bring him in the end money and +reputation. + +But they were struck by the fact that Pulcheria Alexandrovna never +asked them anything on the subject, neither then nor thereafter. On the +contrary, she had her own version of her son’s sudden departure; she +told them with tears how he had come to say good-bye to her, hinting +that she alone knew many mysterious and important facts, and that Rodya +had many very powerful enemies, so that it was necessary for him to be +in hiding. As for his future career, she had no doubt that it would be +brilliant when certain sinister influences could be removed. She assured +Razumihin that her son would be one day a great statesman, that his +article and brilliant literary talent proved it. This article she was +continually reading, she even read it aloud, almost took it to bed +with her, but scarcely asked where Rodya was, though the subject was +obviously avoided by the others, which might have been enough to awaken +her suspicions. + +They began to be frightened at last at Pulcheria Alexandrovna’s strange +silence on certain subjects. She did not, for instance, complain of +getting no letters from him, though in previous years she had only lived +on the hope of letters from her beloved Rodya. This was the cause of +great uneasiness to Dounia; the idea occurred to her that her mother +suspected that there was something terrible in her son’s fate and was +afraid to ask, for fear of hearing something still more awful. In any +case, Dounia saw clearly that her mother was not in full possession of +her faculties. + +It happened once or twice, however, that Pulcheria Alexandrovna gave +such a turn to the conversation that it was impossible to answer her +without mentioning where Rodya was, and on receiving unsatisfactory and +suspicious answers she became at once gloomy and silent, and this mood +lasted for a long time. Dounia saw at last that it was hard to deceive +her and came to the conclusion that it was better to be absolutely +silent on certain points; but it became more and more evident that +the poor mother suspected something terrible. Dounia remembered her +brother’s telling her that her mother had overheard her talking in her +sleep on the night after her interview with Svidrigaïlov and before the +fatal day of the confession: had not she made out something from that? +Sometimes days and even weeks of gloomy silence and tears would be +succeeded by a period of hysterical animation, and the invalid would +begin to talk almost incessantly of her son, of her hopes of his +future.... Her fancies were sometimes very strange. They humoured her, +pretended to agree with her (she saw perhaps that they were pretending), +but she still went on talking. + +Five months after Raskolnikov’s confession, he was sentenced. Razumihin +and Sonia saw him in prison as often as it was possible. At last +the moment of separation came. Dounia swore to her brother that the +separation should not be for ever, Razumihin did the same. Razumihin, in +his youthful ardour, had firmly resolved to lay the foundations at least +of a secure livelihood during the next three or four years, and saving +up a certain sum, to emigrate to Siberia, a country rich in every +natural resource and in need of workers, active men and capital. There +they would settle in the town where Rodya was and all together would +begin a new life. They all wept at parting. + +Raskolnikov had been very dreamy for a few days before. He asked a great +deal about his mother and was constantly anxious about her. He worried +so much about her that it alarmed Dounia. When he heard about his +mother’s illness he became very gloomy. With Sonia he was particularly +reserved all the time. With the help of the money left to her by +Svidrigaïlov, Sonia had long ago made her preparations to follow the +party of convicts in which he was despatched to Siberia. Not a word +passed between Raskolnikov and her on the subject, but both knew it +would be so. At the final leave-taking he smiled strangely at his +sister’s and Razumihin’s fervent anticipations of their happy future +together when he should come out of prison. He predicted that their +mother’s illness would soon have a fatal ending. Sonia and he at last +set off. + +Two months later Dounia was married to Razumihin. It was a quiet and +sorrowful wedding; Porfiry Petrovitch and Zossimov were invited however. +During all this period Razumihin wore an air of resolute determination. +Dounia put implicit faith in his carrying out his plans and indeed she +could not but believe in him. He displayed a rare strength of will. +Among other things he began attending university lectures again in order +to take his degree. They were continually making plans for the future; +both counted on settling in Siberia within five years at least. Till +then they rested their hopes on Sonia. + +Pulcheria Alexandrovna was delighted to give her blessing to Dounia’s +marriage with Razumihin; but after the marriage she became even more +melancholy and anxious. To give her pleasure Razumihin told her how +Raskolnikov had looked after the poor student and his decrepit father +and how a year ago he had been burnt and injured in rescuing two +little children from a fire. These two pieces of news excited Pulcheria +Alexandrovna’s disordered imagination almost to ecstasy. She was +continually talking about them, even entering into conversation with +strangers in the street, though Dounia always accompanied her. In public +conveyances and shops, wherever she could capture a listener, she would +begin the discourse about her son, his article, how he had helped the +student, how he had been burnt at the fire, and so on! Dounia did +not know how to restrain her. Apart from the danger of her morbid +excitement, there was the risk of someone’s recalling Raskolnikov’s name +and speaking of the recent trial. Pulcheria Alexandrovna found out the +address of the mother of the two children her son had saved and insisted +on going to see her. + +At last her restlessness reached an extreme point. She would sometimes +begin to cry suddenly and was often ill and feverishly delirious. One +morning she declared that by her reckoning Rodya ought soon to be home, +that she remembered when he said good-bye to her he said that they must +expect him back in nine months. She began to prepare for his coming, +began to do up her room for him, to clean the furniture, to wash and +put up new hangings and so on. Dounia was anxious, but said nothing and +helped her to arrange the room. After a fatiguing day spent in continual +fancies, in joyful day-dreams and tears, Pulcheria Alexandrovna was +taken ill in the night and by morning she was feverish and delirious. +It was brain fever. She died within a fortnight. In her delirium she +dropped words which showed that she knew a great deal more about her +son’s terrible fate than they had supposed. + +For a long time Raskolnikov did not know of his mother’s death, though +a regular correspondence had been maintained from the time he reached +Siberia. It was carried on by means of Sonia, who wrote every month +to the Razumihins and received an answer with unfailing regularity. At +first they found Sonia’s letters dry and unsatisfactory, but later on +they came to the conclusion that the letters could not be better, for +from these letters they received a complete picture of their unfortunate +brother’s life. Sonia’s letters were full of the most matter-of-fact +detail, the simplest and clearest description of all Raskolnikov’s +surroundings as a convict. There was no word of her own hopes, no +conjecture as to the future, no description of her feelings. Instead of +any attempt to interpret his state of mind and inner life, she gave the +simple facts--that is, his own words, an exact account of his health, +what he asked for at their interviews, what commission he gave her +and so on. All these facts she gave with extraordinary minuteness. The +picture of their unhappy brother stood out at last with great clearness +and precision. There could be no mistake, because nothing was given but +facts. + +But Dounia and her husband could get little comfort out of the news, +especially at first. Sonia wrote that he was constantly sullen and not +ready to talk, that he scarcely seemed interested in the news she gave +him from their letters, that he sometimes asked after his mother and +that when, seeing that he had guessed the truth, she told him at last +of her death, she was surprised to find that he did not seem greatly +affected by it, not externally at any rate. She told them that, although +he seemed so wrapped up in himself and, as it were, shut himself off +from everyone--he took a very direct and simple view of his new life; +that he understood his position, expected nothing better for the time, +had no ill-founded hopes (as is so common in his position) and scarcely +seemed surprised at anything in his surroundings, so unlike anything he +had known before. She wrote that his health was satisfactory; he did his +work without shirking or seeking to do more; he was almost indifferent +about food, but except on Sundays and holidays the food was so bad that +at last he had been glad to accept some money from her, Sonia, to have +his own tea every day. He begged her not to trouble about anything else, +declaring that all this fuss about him only annoyed him. Sonia wrote +further that in prison he shared the same room with the rest, that she +had not seen the inside of their barracks, but concluded that they were +crowded, miserable and unhealthy; that he slept on a plank bed with a +rug under him and was unwilling to make any other arrangement. But that +he lived so poorly and roughly, not from any plan or design, but simply +from inattention and indifference. + +Sonia wrote simply that he had at first shown no interest in her visits, +had almost been vexed with her indeed for coming, unwilling to talk and +rude to her. But that in the end these visits had become a habit and +almost a necessity for him, so that he was positively distressed when +she was ill for some days and could not visit him. She used to see him +on holidays at the prison gates or in the guard-room, to which he was +brought for a few minutes to see her. On working days she would go to +see him at work either at the workshops or at the brick kilns, or at the +sheds on the banks of the Irtish. + +About herself, Sonia wrote that she had succeeded in making some +acquaintances in the town, that she did sewing, and, as there +was scarcely a dressmaker in the town, she was looked upon as an +indispensable person in many houses. But she did not mention that the +authorities were, through her, interested in Raskolnikov; that his task +was lightened and so on. + +At last the news came (Dounia had indeed noticed signs of alarm and +uneasiness in the preceding letters) that he held aloof from everyone, +that his fellow prisoners did not like him, that he kept silent for days +at a time and was becoming very pale. In the last letter Sonia wrote +that he had been taken very seriously ill and was in the convict ward of +the hospital. + + + +II + +He was ill a long time. But it was not the horrors of prison life, not +the hard labour, the bad food, the shaven head, or the patched clothes +that crushed him. What did he care for all those trials and hardships! +he was even glad of the hard work. Physically exhausted, he could at +least reckon on a few hours of quiet sleep. And what was the food to +him--the thin cabbage soup with beetles floating in it? In the past as a +student he had often not had even that. His clothes were warm and suited +to his manner of life. He did not even feel the fetters. Was he ashamed +of his shaven head and parti-coloured coat? Before whom? Before Sonia? +Sonia was afraid of him, how could he be ashamed before her? And yet he +was ashamed even before Sonia, whom he tortured because of it with +his contemptuous rough manner. But it was not his shaven head and his +fetters he was ashamed of: his pride had been stung to the quick. It was +wounded pride that made him ill. Oh, how happy he would have been if he +could have blamed himself! He could have borne anything then, even +shame and disgrace. But he judged himself severely, and his exasperated +conscience found no particularly terrible fault in his past, except +a simple _blunder_ which might happen to anyone. He was ashamed just +because he, Raskolnikov, had so hopelessly, stupidly come to grief +through some decree of blind fate, and must humble himself and submit to +“the idiocy” of a sentence, if he were anyhow to be at peace. + +Vague and objectless anxiety in the present, and in the future a +continual sacrifice leading to nothing--that was all that lay before +him. And what comfort was it to him that at the end of eight years he +would only be thirty-two and able to begin a new life! What had he to +live for? What had he to look forward to? Why should he strive? To live +in order to exist? Why, he had been ready a thousand times before to +give up existence for the sake of an idea, for a hope, even for a fancy. +Mere existence had always been too little for him; he had always wanted +more. Perhaps it was just because of the strength of his desires that he +had thought himself a man to whom more was permissible than to others. + +And if only fate would have sent him repentance--burning repentance that +would have torn his heart and robbed him of sleep, that repentance, the +awful agony of which brings visions of hanging or drowning! Oh, he would +have been glad of it! Tears and agonies would at least have been life. +But he did not repent of his crime. + +At least he might have found relief in raging at his stupidity, as he +had raged at the grotesque blunders that had brought him to prison. +But now in prison, _in freedom_, he thought over and criticised all his +actions again and by no means found them so blundering and so grotesque +as they had seemed at the fatal time. + +“In what way,” he asked himself, “was my theory stupider than others +that have swarmed and clashed from the beginning of the world? One has +only to look at the thing quite independently, broadly, and uninfluenced +by commonplace ideas, and my idea will by no means seem so... strange. +Oh, sceptics and halfpenny philosophers, why do you halt half-way! + +“Why does my action strike them as so horrible?” he said to himself. “Is +it because it was a crime? What is meant by crime? My conscience is at +rest. Of course, it was a legal crime, of course, the letter of the law +was broken and blood was shed. Well, punish me for the letter of the +law... and that’s enough. Of course, in that case many of the +benefactors of mankind who snatched power for themselves instead of +inheriting it ought to have been punished at their first steps. But +those men succeeded and so _they were right_, and I didn’t, and so I +had no right to have taken that step.” + +It was only in that that he recognised his criminality, only in the fact +that he had been unsuccessful and had confessed it. + +He suffered too from the question: why had he not killed himself? Why +had he stood looking at the river and preferred to confess? Was the +desire to live so strong and was it so hard to overcome it? Had not +Svidrigaïlov overcome it, although he was afraid of death? + +In misery he asked himself this question, and could not understand that, +at the very time he had been standing looking into the river, he had +perhaps been dimly conscious of the fundamental falsity in himself and +his convictions. He didn’t understand that that consciousness might be +the promise of a future crisis, of a new view of life and of his future +resurrection. + +He preferred to attribute it to the dead weight of instinct which he +could not step over, again through weakness and meanness. He looked at +his fellow prisoners and was amazed to see how they all loved life and +prized it. It seemed to him that they loved and valued life more in +prison than in freedom. What terrible agonies and privations some of +them, the tramps for instance, had endured! Could they care so much for +a ray of sunshine, for the primeval forest, the cold spring hidden away +in some unseen spot, which the tramp had marked three years before, and +longed to see again, as he might to see his sweetheart, dreaming of the +green grass round it and the bird singing in the bush? As he went on he +saw still more inexplicable examples. + +In prison, of course, there was a great deal he did not see and did not +want to see; he lived as it were with downcast eyes. It was loathsome +and unbearable for him to look. But in the end there was much that +surprised him and he began, as it were involuntarily, to notice much +that he had not suspected before. What surprised him most of all was +the terrible impossible gulf that lay between him and all the rest. They +seemed to be a different species, and he looked at them and they at +him with distrust and hostility. He felt and knew the reasons of his +isolation, but he would never have admitted till then that those reasons +were so deep and strong. There were some Polish exiles, political +prisoners, among them. They simply looked down upon all the rest as +ignorant churls; but Raskolnikov could not look upon them like that. +He saw that these ignorant men were in many respects far wiser than the +Poles. There were some Russians who were just as contemptuous, a former +officer and two seminarists. Raskolnikov saw their mistake as clearly. +He was disliked and avoided by everyone; they even began to hate him at +last--why, he could not tell. Men who had been far more guilty despised +and laughed at his crime. + +“You’re a gentleman,” they used to say. “You shouldn’t hack about with +an axe; that’s not a gentleman’s work.” + +The second week in Lent, his turn came to take the sacrament with his +gang. He went to church and prayed with the others. A quarrel broke out +one day, he did not know how. All fell on him at once in a fury. + +“You’re an infidel! You don’t believe in God,” they shouted. “You ought +to be killed.” + +He had never talked to them about God nor his belief, but they wanted to +kill him as an infidel. He said nothing. One of the prisoners rushed at +him in a perfect frenzy. Raskolnikov awaited him calmly and silently; +his eyebrows did not quiver, his face did not flinch. The guard +succeeded in intervening between him and his assailant, or there would +have been bloodshed. + +There was another question he could not decide: why were they all so +fond of Sonia? She did not try to win their favour; she rarely met +them, sometimes only she came to see him at work for a moment. And yet +everybody knew her, they knew that she had come out to follow _him_, +knew how and where she lived. She never gave them money, did them no +particular services. Only once at Christmas she sent them all presents +of pies and rolls. But by degrees closer relations sprang up between +them and Sonia. She would write and post letters for them to their +relations. Relations of the prisoners who visited the town, at their +instructions, left with Sonia presents and money for them. Their wives +and sweethearts knew her and used to visit her. And when she visited +Raskolnikov at work, or met a party of the prisoners on the road, they +all took off their hats to her. “Little mother Sofya Semyonovna, you +are our dear, good little mother,” coarse branded criminals said to that +frail little creature. She would smile and bow to them and everyone was +delighted when she smiled. They even admired her gait and turned round +to watch her walking; they admired her too for being so little, and, in +fact, did not know what to admire her most for. They even came to her +for help in their illnesses. + +He was in the hospital from the middle of Lent till after Easter. When +he was better, he remembered the dreams he had had while he was feverish +and delirious. He dreamt that the whole world was condemned to a +terrible new strange plague that had come to Europe from the depths of +Asia. All were to be destroyed except a very few chosen. Some new sorts +of microbes were attacking the bodies of men, but these microbes were +endowed with intelligence and will. Men attacked by them became at once +mad and furious. But never had men considered themselves so intellectual +and so completely in possession of the truth as these sufferers, never +had they considered their decisions, their scientific conclusions, their +moral convictions so infallible. Whole villages, whole towns and peoples +went mad from the infection. All were excited and did not understand +one another. Each thought that he alone had the truth and was wretched +looking at the others, beat himself on the breast, wept, and wrung +his hands. They did not know how to judge and could not agree what to +consider evil and what good; they did not know whom to blame, whom +to justify. Men killed each other in a sort of senseless spite. They +gathered together in armies against one another, but even on the march +the armies would begin attacking each other, the ranks would be broken +and the soldiers would fall on each other, stabbing and cutting, biting +and devouring each other. The alarm bell was ringing all day long in +the towns; men rushed together, but why they were summoned and who was +summoning them no one knew. The most ordinary trades were abandoned, +because everyone proposed his own ideas, his own improvements, and they +could not agree. The land too was abandoned. Men met in groups, agreed +on something, swore to keep together, but at once began on something +quite different from what they had proposed. They accused one another, +fought and killed each other. There were conflagrations and famine. All +men and all things were involved in destruction. The plague spread and +moved further and further. Only a few men could be saved in the whole +world. They were a pure chosen people, destined to found a new race and +a new life, to renew and purify the earth, but no one had seen these +men, no one had heard their words and their voices. + +Raskolnikov was worried that this senseless dream haunted his memory so +miserably, the impression of this feverish delirium persisted so long. +The second week after Easter had come. There were warm bright spring +days; in the prison ward the grating windows under which the sentinel +paced were opened. Sonia had only been able to visit him twice during +his illness; each time she had to obtain permission, and it was +difficult. But she often used to come to the hospital yard, especially +in the evening, sometimes only to stand a minute and look up at the +windows of the ward. + +One evening, when he was almost well again, Raskolnikov fell asleep. On +waking up he chanced to go to the window, and at once saw Sonia in the +distance at the hospital gate. She seemed to be waiting for someone. +Something stabbed him to the heart at that minute. He shuddered and +moved away from the window. Next day Sonia did not come, nor the day +after; he noticed that he was expecting her uneasily. At last he was +discharged. On reaching the prison he learnt from the convicts that +Sofya Semyonovna was lying ill at home and was unable to go out. + +He was very uneasy and sent to inquire after her; he soon learnt that +her illness was not dangerous. Hearing that he was anxious about her, +Sonia sent him a pencilled note, telling him that she was much better, +that she had a slight cold and that she would soon, very soon come and +see him at his work. His heart throbbed painfully as he read it. + +Again it was a warm bright day. Early in the morning, at six o’clock, he +went off to work on the river bank, where they used to pound alabaster +and where there was a kiln for baking it in a shed. There were only +three of them sent. One of the convicts went with the guard to the +fortress to fetch a tool; the other began getting the wood ready and +laying it in the kiln. Raskolnikov came out of the shed on to the river +bank, sat down on a heap of logs by the shed and began gazing at the +wide deserted river. From the high bank a broad landscape opened before +him, the sound of singing floated faintly audible from the other bank. +In the vast steppe, bathed in sunshine, he could just see, like black +specks, the nomads’ tents. There there was freedom, there other men were +living, utterly unlike those here; there time itself seemed to stand +still, as though the age of Abraham and his flocks had not passed. +Raskolnikov sat gazing, his thoughts passed into day-dreams, into +contemplation; he thought of nothing, but a vague restlessness excited +and troubled him. Suddenly he found Sonia beside him; she had come up +noiselessly and sat down at his side. It was still quite early; the +morning chill was still keen. She wore her poor old burnous and the +green shawl; her face still showed signs of illness, it was thinner and +paler. She gave him a joyful smile of welcome, but held out her hand +with her usual timidity. She was always timid of holding out her hand +to him and sometimes did not offer it at all, as though afraid he would +repel it. He always took her hand as though with repugnance, always +seemed vexed to meet her and was sometimes obstinately silent throughout +her visit. Sometimes she trembled before him and went away deeply +grieved. But now their hands did not part. He stole a rapid glance +at her and dropped his eyes on the ground without speaking. They were +alone, no one had seen them. The guard had turned away for the time. + +How it happened he did not know. But all at once something seemed to +seize him and fling him at her feet. He wept and threw his arms round +her knees. For the first instant she was terribly frightened and she +turned pale. She jumped up and looked at him trembling. But at the same +moment she understood, and a light of infinite happiness came into her +eyes. She knew and had no doubt that he loved her beyond everything and +that at last the moment had come.... + +They wanted to speak, but could not; tears stood in their eyes. They +were both pale and thin; but those sick pale faces were bright with the +dawn of a new future, of a full resurrection into a new life. They were +renewed by love; the heart of each held infinite sources of life for the +heart of the other. + +They resolved to wait and be patient. They had another seven years to +wait, and what terrible suffering and what infinite happiness before +them! But he had risen again and he knew it and felt it in all his +being, while she--she only lived in his life. + +On the evening of the same day, when the barracks were locked, +Raskolnikov lay on his plank bed and thought of her. He had even fancied +that day that all the convicts who had been his enemies looked at him +differently; he had even entered into talk with them and they answered +him in a friendly way. He remembered that now, and thought it was bound +to be so. Wasn’t everything now bound to be changed? + +He thought of her. He remembered how continually he had tormented her +and wounded her heart. He remembered her pale and thin little face. +But these recollections scarcely troubled him now; he knew with what +infinite love he would now repay all her sufferings. And what were all, +_all_ the agonies of the past! Everything, even his crime, his sentence +and imprisonment, seemed to him now in the first rush of feeling an +external, strange fact with which he had no concern. But he could not +think for long together of anything that evening, and he could not have +analysed anything consciously; he was simply feeling. Life had stepped +into the place of theory and something quite different would work itself +out in his mind. + +Under his pillow lay the New Testament. He took it up mechanically. +The book belonged to Sonia; it was the one from which she had read the +raising of Lazarus to him. At first he was afraid that she would worry +him about religion, would talk about the gospel and pester him with +books. But to his great surprise she had not once approached the subject +and had not even offered him the Testament. He had asked her for it +himself not long before his illness and she brought him the book without +a word. Till now he had not opened it. + +He did not open it now, but one thought passed through his mind: “Can +her convictions not be mine now? Her feelings, her aspirations at +least....” + +She too had been greatly agitated that day, and at night she was taken +ill again. But she was so happy--and so unexpectedly happy--that she was +almost frightened of her happiness. Seven years, _only_ seven years! At +the beginning of their happiness at some moments they were both ready +to look on those seven years as though they were seven days. He did not +know that the new life would not be given him for nothing, that he would +have to pay dearly for it, that it would cost him great striving, great +suffering. + +But that is the beginning of a new story--the story of the gradual +renewal of a man, the story of his gradual regeneration, of his passing +from one world into another, of his initiation into a new unknown life. +That might be the subject of a new story, but our present story is +ended. + + + + + + + *** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CRIME AND PUNISHMENT *** + + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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Thus, we do not +necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper +edition. + +Most people start at our website which has the main PG search +facility: www.gutenberg.org. + +This website includes information about Project Gutenberg™, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + diff --git a/internal/oci/pull/tart/applestream/testdata/pg2554.txt.lz4 b/internal/oci/pull/tart/applestream/testdata/pg2554.txt.lz4 new file mode 100644 index 0000000..655a3ec Binary files /dev/null and b/internal/oci/pull/tart/applestream/testdata/pg2554.txt.lz4 differ diff --git a/internal/oci/pull/tart/tart.go b/internal/oci/pull/tart/tart.go new file mode 100644 index 0000000..65ad5cf --- /dev/null +++ b/internal/oci/pull/tart/tart.go @@ -0,0 +1,106 @@ +package tart + +import ( + "context" + "fmt" + "github.com/cirruslabs/vetu/internal/oci/annotations" + "github.com/cirruslabs/vetu/internal/oci/diskpuller" + "github.com/cirruslabs/vetu/internal/oci/mediatypes" + "github.com/cirruslabs/vetu/internal/oci/pull/pullhelper" + "github.com/cirruslabs/vetu/internal/oci/pull/tart/applestream" + "github.com/cirruslabs/vetu/internal/oci/pull/tart/tartconfig" + "github.com/cirruslabs/vetu/internal/vmconfig" + "github.com/cirruslabs/vetu/internal/vmdirectory" + cp "github.com/otiai10/copy" + "github.com/regclient/regclient" + "github.com/regclient/regclient/types" + manifestpkg "github.com/regclient/regclient/types/manifest" + "github.com/regclient/regclient/types/ref" + "github.com/samber/lo" + "io" +) + +const diskName = "disk.img" + +func PullVMDirectory( + ctx context.Context, + client *regclient.RegClient, + reference ref.Ref, + manifest manifestpkg.Manifest, + vmDir *vmdirectory.VMDirectory, + concurrency int, +) error { + // Get layers + layers, err := manifest.(manifestpkg.Imager).GetLayers() + if err != nil { + return err + } + + // Find VM's config + vmConfigs := lo.Filter(layers, func(descriptor types.Descriptor, index int) bool { + return descriptor.MediaType == mediatypes.MediaTypeTartConfig + }) + if len(vmConfigs) != 1 { + return fmt.Errorf("manifest should contain exactly one layer of type %s, found %d", + mediatypes.MediaTypeTartConfig, len(vmConfigs)) + } + + // Pull and process Tart VM's config + fmt.Println("pulling config...") + + tartConfigBytes, err := pullhelper.PullBlob(ctx, client, reference, vmConfigs[0]) + if err != nil { + return err + } + + tartConfig, err := tartconfig.NewFromJSON(tartConfigBytes) + if err != nil { + return err + } + + if tartConfig.OS != "linux" { + return fmt.Errorf("you're attempting to pull a Tart VM that's built for %q, "+ + "but only \"linux\" is currently supported", tartConfig.OS) + } + + // Create a Vetu-native VM config + vmConfig := vmconfig.New() + + vmConfig.Arch = tartConfig.Arch + vmConfig.Disks = []vmconfig.Disk{ + {Name: diskName}, + } + vmConfig.CPUCount = tartConfig.CPUCount + vmConfig.MemorySize = tartConfig.MemorySize + vmConfig.MACAddress = tartConfig.MACAddress + + if err := vmDir.SetConfig(vmConfig); err != nil { + return err + } + + // Copy latest Hypervisor Firmware since + // Tart VM images have no separate kernel + fmt.Println("copying EDK2 firmware to use as a kernel...") + + if err := cp.Copy("/usr/share/cloud-hypervisor/CLOUDHV_EFI.fd", vmDir.KernelPath()); err != nil { + return err + } + + // Find VM's disks + disks := lo.Filter(layers, func(desc types.Descriptor, index int) bool { + return desc.MediaType == mediatypes.MediaTypeTartDisk + }) + + // Pull VM's disks + nameFunc := func(disk types.Descriptor) (string, error) { + // Tart VM images have only one disk + return diskName, nil + } + + decompressorFunc := func(r io.Reader) io.Reader { + return applestream.NewReader(r) + } + + return diskpuller.PullDisks(ctx, client, reference, vmDir, concurrency, disks, nameFunc, + annotations.AnnotationTartUncompressedSize, decompressorFunc) +} diff --git a/internal/oci/pull/tart/tartconfig/tartconfig.go b/internal/oci/pull/tart/tartconfig/tartconfig.go new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6aeb801 --- /dev/null +++ b/internal/oci/pull/tart/tartconfig/tartconfig.go @@ -0,0 +1,40 @@ +package tartconfig + +import ( + "encoding/json" + "errors" + "fmt" + "github.com/projectcalico/libcalico-go/lib/net" +) + +var ErrFailedToParse = errors.New("failed to parse Tart VM configuration") + +const SupportedVersion = 1 + +type TartConfig struct { + Version int `json:"version"` + OS string `json:"os"` + Arch string `json:"arch"` + CPUCount uint8 `json:"cpuCount,omitempty"` + MemorySize uint64 `json:"memorySize,omitempty"` + MACAddress net.MAC `json:"macAddress,omitempty"` +} + +func NewFromJSON(tartConfigBytes []byte) (*TartConfig, error) { + var tartConfig TartConfig + + if err := json.Unmarshal(tartConfigBytes, &tartConfig); err != nil { + return nil, err + } + + if tartConfig.Version != SupportedVersion { + return nil, fmt.Errorf("%w: only version %d is currently supported, got %d", + ErrFailedToParse, SupportedVersion, tartConfig.Version) + } + + if tartConfig.Arch == "" { + return nil, fmt.Errorf("%w: architecture field cannot empty", ErrFailedToParse) + } + + return &tartConfig, nil +} diff --git a/internal/oci/pull/vetu/vetu.go b/internal/oci/pull/vetu/vetu.go new file mode 100644 index 0000000..87b5a10 --- /dev/null +++ b/internal/oci/pull/vetu/vetu.go @@ -0,0 +1,133 @@ +package vetu + +import ( + "context" + "fmt" + "github.com/cirruslabs/vetu/internal/oci/annotations" + "github.com/cirruslabs/vetu/internal/oci/diskpuller" + "github.com/cirruslabs/vetu/internal/oci/mediatypes" + "github.com/cirruslabs/vetu/internal/oci/pull/pullhelper" + "github.com/cirruslabs/vetu/internal/vmconfig" + "github.com/cirruslabs/vetu/internal/vmdirectory" + "github.com/pierrec/lz4/v4" + "github.com/regclient/regclient" + "github.com/regclient/regclient/types" + manifestpkg "github.com/regclient/regclient/types/manifest" + "github.com/regclient/regclient/types/ref" + "github.com/samber/lo" + "io" + "os" +) + +func PullVMDirectory( + ctx context.Context, + client *regclient.RegClient, + reference ref.Ref, + manifest manifestpkg.Manifest, + vmDir *vmdirectory.VMDirectory, + concurrency int, +) error { + layers, err := manifest.(manifestpkg.Imager).GetLayers() + if err != nil { + return err + } + + // Find VM's config + vmConfigs := lo.Filter(layers, func(descriptor types.Descriptor, index int) bool { + return descriptor.MediaType == mediatypes.MediaTypeConfig + }) + if len(vmConfigs) != 1 { + return fmt.Errorf("manifest should contain exactly one layer of type %s, found %d", + mediatypes.MediaTypeConfig, len(vmConfigs)) + } + + // Process VM's config + fmt.Println("pulling config...") + + vmConfigBytes, err := pullhelper.PullBlob(ctx, client, reference, vmConfigs[0]) + if err != nil { + return err + } + + vmConfig, err := vmconfig.NewFromJSON(vmConfigBytes) + if err != nil { + return err + } + + if err := vmDir.SetConfig(vmConfig); err != nil { + return err + } + + // Find VM's kernel + vmKernels := lo.Filter(layers, func(descriptor types.Descriptor, index int) bool { + return descriptor.MediaType == mediatypes.MediaTypeKernel + }) + if len(vmKernels) != 1 { + return fmt.Errorf("manifest should contain exactly one layer of type %s, found %d", + mediatypes.MediaTypeKernel, len(vmKernels)) + } + + // Process VM's kernel + fmt.Println("pulling kernel...") + + vmKernelBytes, err := pullhelper.PullBlob(ctx, client, reference, vmKernels[0]) + if err != nil { + return err + } + + if err := os.WriteFile(vmDir.KernelPath(), vmKernelBytes, 0600); err != nil { + return err + } + + // Find VM's initramfs + vmInitramfses := lo.Filter(layers, func(descriptor types.Descriptor, index int) bool { + return descriptor.MediaType == mediatypes.MediaTypeInitramfs + }) + if len(vmInitramfses) > 0 { + if len(vmInitramfses) > 1 { + return fmt.Errorf("manifest should contain exactly one layer of type %s, found %d", + mediatypes.MediaTypeInitramfs, len(vmInitramfses)) + } + + fmt.Println("pulling initramfs...") + + vmInitramfsBytes, err := pullhelper.PullBlob(ctx, client, reference, vmInitramfses[0]) + if err != nil { + return err + } + + if err := os.WriteFile(vmDir.InitramfsPath(), vmInitramfsBytes, 0600); err != nil { + return err + } + } + + // Find VM's disks + disks := lo.Filter(layers, func(desc types.Descriptor, index int) bool { + return desc.MediaType == mediatypes.MediaTypeDisk + }) + + // Pull VM's disks + nameFunc := func(disk types.Descriptor) (string, error) { + // Extract name + diskName, ok := disk.Annotations[annotations.AnnotationName] + if !ok { + return "", fmt.Errorf("disk layer has no %s annotation", annotations.AnnotationName) + } + + // Name should be contained in the VM's config + if !lo.ContainsBy(vmConfig.Disks, func(disk vmconfig.Disk) bool { + return disk.Name == diskName + }) { + return "", fmt.Errorf("disk with name %q is not found in the VM's config", diskName) + } + + return diskName, nil + } + + decompressorFunc := func(r io.Reader) io.Reader { + return lz4.NewReader(r) + } + + return diskpuller.PullDisks(ctx, client, reference, vmDir, concurrency, disks, nameFunc, + annotations.AnnotationUncompressedSize, decompressorFunc) +} diff --git a/internal/oci/push.go b/internal/oci/push.go index fcc7330..063afcc 100644 --- a/internal/oci/push.go +++ b/internal/oci/push.go @@ -6,7 +6,10 @@ import ( "encoding/json" "fmt" chunkerpkg "github.com/cirruslabs/vetu/internal/chunker" + "github.com/cirruslabs/vetu/internal/oci/annotations" + "github.com/cirruslabs/vetu/internal/oci/mediatypes" "github.com/cirruslabs/vetu/internal/vmdirectory" + "github.com/dustin/go-humanize" "github.com/opencontainers/go-digest" "github.com/pierrec/lz4/v4" "github.com/regclient/regclient" @@ -24,6 +27,8 @@ import ( "strconv" ) +const targetDiskLayerSizeBytes = 500 * humanize.MByte + func PushVMDirectory( ctx context.Context, client *regclient.RegClient, @@ -60,7 +65,7 @@ func PushVMDirectory( fmt.Println("pushing config...") vmConfigDesc, err := pushFile(ctx, client, reference, vmDir.ConfigPath(), - MediaTypeVetuConfig, nil) + mediatypes.MediaTypeConfig, nil) if err != nil { return "", err } @@ -70,7 +75,7 @@ func PushVMDirectory( fmt.Println("pushing kernel...") vmKernelDesc, err := pushFile(ctx, client, reference, vmDir.KernelPath(), - MediaTypeVetuKernel, nil) + mediatypes.MediaTypeKernel, nil) if err != nil { return "", err } @@ -88,7 +93,7 @@ func PushVMDirectory( fmt.Println("pushing initramfs...") vmInitramfsDesc, err := pushBytes(ctx, client, reference, initramfsBytes, - MediaTypeVetuInitramfs, nil, nil) + mediatypes.MediaTypeInitramfs, nil, nil) if err != nil { return "", err } @@ -224,13 +229,13 @@ func pushDisk( for compressedChunk := range chunker.Chunks() { annotations := map[string]string{ - AnnotationName: diskName, - AnnotationUncompressedSize: strconv.FormatInt(compressedChunk.UncompressedSize, 10), - AnnotationUncompressedDigest: compressedChunk.UncompressedDigest.String(), + annotations.AnnotationName: diskName, + annotations.AnnotationUncompressedSize: strconv.FormatInt(compressedChunk.UncompressedSize, 10), + annotations.AnnotationUncompressedDigest: compressedChunk.UncompressedDigest.String(), } diskDesc, err := pushBytes(ctx, client, reference, compressedChunk.Data, - MediaTypeVetuDisk, annotations, progressBar) + mediatypes.MediaTypeDisk, annotations, progressBar) if err != nil { return nil, err } diff --git a/internal/storage/remote/remote.go b/internal/storage/remote/remote.go index 990d4a5..e16efc8 100644 --- a/internal/storage/remote/remote.go +++ b/internal/storage/remote/remote.go @@ -264,10 +264,6 @@ func gc() error { // Only garbage-collect paths that were not pulled explicitly vmDir, err := vmdirectory.Load(managedPath) - fmt.Println(vmDir, err) - if vmDir != nil { - fmt.Println(vmDir.ExplicitlyPulled()) - } if err == nil && vmDir.ExplicitlyPulled() { continue } diff --git a/tools/cloud-init/Makefile b/tools/cloud-init/Makefile deleted file mode 100644 index 5e76c70..0000000 --- a/tools/cloud-init/Makefile +++ /dev/null @@ -1,2 +0,0 @@ -all: - mkisofs -output cloud-init.iso -volid cidata -joliet -rock user-data meta-data diff --git a/tools/cloud-init/meta-data b/tools/cloud-init/meta-data deleted file mode 100644 index c384d5e..0000000 --- a/tools/cloud-init/meta-data +++ /dev/null @@ -1,2 +0,0 @@ -instance-id: linux -local-hostname: linux diff --git a/tools/cloud-init/user-data b/tools/cloud-init/user-data deleted file mode 100644 index 38fba92..0000000 --- a/tools/cloud-init/user-data +++ /dev/null @@ -1,12 +0,0 @@ -#cloud-config -users: - - name: vetu - plain_text_passwd: vetu - sudo: ALL=(ALL) NOPASSWD:ALL - lock_passwd: False - shell: /bin/bash - -chpasswd: - expire: False - -ssh_pwauth: True