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{"0":". \u201cIf I am so scared now, what would it be if it somehow came to pass that I were really going to do it?\u201d 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. \u201cThat\u2019s a good thing anyway,\u201d he thought to himself, as he rang the bell of the old woman\u2019s 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\u2019s 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. \u201cRaskolnikov, a student, I came here a month ago","1":", 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","2":" are gone. I don\u2019t condemn her for it, I don\u2019t 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\u2019t allow herself to be treated with disrespect. That\u2019s why she would not overlook Mr. Lebeziatnikov\u2019s 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\u2019s 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\u2019t 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, ","3":" a week before, she could not resist then asking her in to coffee. For two hours they were sitting, whispering together. \u2018Semyon Zaharovitch is in the service again, now, and receiving a salary,\u2019 says she, \u2018and 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.\u2019 Do you hear, do you hear? \u2018To be sure,\u2019 says he, \u2018Semyon Zaharovitch, remembering your past services,\u2019 says he, \u2018and in spite of your propensity to that foolish weakness, since you promise now and since moreover we\u2019ve got on badly without you,\u2019 (do you hear, do you hear;) \u2018and so,\u2019 says he, \u2018I rely now on your word as a gentleman.\u2019 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\u2019t blame her for it, no, I don\u2019t 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: \u2018poppet,\u2019 said she, \u2018my little poppet.\u2019 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, \u2018my little poppet,\u2019 said she.\u201d 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","4":" 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\u2019s 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. \u201cAh!\u201d she cried out in a frenzy, \u201che has come back! The criminal! the monster!... And where is the money? What\u2019s in your pocket, show me! And your clothes are all different! Where are your clothes? Where is the ","5":"\ufffd 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. \u201cMy dear Rodya,\u201d wrote his mother--\u201cit\u2019s 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\u2019s 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\u2019ve 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 ","6":" 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\u2019s consent, in the course of conversation, he declared that before making Dounia\u2019s 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 \u2018words are not deeds,\u2019 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. \u201cI 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","7":" 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\u2019s letter it\u2019s 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 \u2018answered her angrily.\u2019 I should think so! Who would not be angered when it was quite clear without any na\u00efve questions and when it was understood that it was useless to discuss it. And why does she write to me, \u2018love Dounia, Rodya, and she loves you more than herself\u2019? Has she a secret conscience-prick at sacrificing her daughter to her son? \u2018You are our one comfort, you are everything to us.\u2019 Oh, mother!\u201d His bitterness grew more and more intense, and if he had happened to meet Mr. Luzhin at the moment, he might have murdered him. \u201cHm... yes, that\u2019s true,\u201d he continued, pursuing the whirling ideas that chased each other in his brain, \u201cit is true that \u2018it needs time and care to get to know a man,\u2019 but there is no mistake about Mr. Luzhin. The chief thing is he is \u2018a man of business and _seems_ kind,\u2019 that was something, wasn\u2019t 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\u2019s cart covered with sacking (I know, I have been driven in it). No matter! It is only ninety versts and then they can \u2018travel very comfortably, third class,\u2019 for a thousand versts! Quite right, too. One must cut one\u2019s coat according to one\u2019s cloth, but what about you, Mr. Luzhin? She is your bride.... And you must be aware that her","8":" somewhere to turn....\u201d 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\u2019s 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","9":"--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\u2019ve all come to it like that. Ugh! But what does it matter? That\u2019s 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\u2019ve said \u2018percentage\u2019 there\u2019s 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? \u201cBut where am I going?\u201d he thought suddenly. \u201cStrange, 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\u2019s what it was... now I remember. What for, though? And what put the idea of going to Razumihin into my head just now? That\u2019s curious.\u201d 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\u2019 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","10":"\ufffdTake us all with a beast like that!\u201d \u201cWhy, Mikolka, are you crazy to put a nag like that in such a cart?\u201d \u201cAnd this mare is twenty if she is a day, mates!\u201d \u201cGet in, I\u2019ll take you all,\u201d Mikolka shouted again, leaping first into the cart, seizing the reins and standing straight up in front. \u201cThe bay has gone with Matvey,\u201d he shouted from the cart--\u201cand this brute, mates, is just breaking my heart, I feel as if I could kill her. She\u2019s just eating her head off. Get in, I tell you! I\u2019ll make her gallop! She\u2019ll gallop!\u201d and he picked up the whip, preparing himself with relish to flog the little mare. \u201cGet in! Come along!\u201d The crowd laughed. \u201cD\u2019you hear, she\u2019ll gallop!\u201d \u201cGallop indeed! She has not had a gallop in her for the last ten years!\u201d \u201cShe\u2019ll jog along!\u201d \u201cDon\u2019t you mind her, mates, bring a whip each of you, get ready!\u201d \u201cAll right! Give it to her!\u201d They all clambered into Mikolka\u2019s 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 \u201cnow,\u201d 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","11":"make up her mind. \u201cUpon my word, what a fright you are in of Alyona Ivanovna,\u201d gabbled the huckster\u2019s wife, a lively little woman. \u201cI 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!\u201d \u201cBut this time don\u2019t say a word to Alyona Ivanovna,\u201d her husband interrupted; \u201cthat\u2019s my advice, but come round to us without asking. It will be worth your while. Later on your sister herself may have a notion.\u201d \u201cAm I to come?\u201d \u201cAbout seven o\u2019clock to-morrow. And they will be here. You will be able to decide for yourself.\u201d \u201cAnd we\u2019ll have a cup of tea,\u201d added his wife. \u201cAll right, I\u2019ll come,\u201d 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\u2019clock Lizaveta, the old woman\u2019s sister and only companion, would be away from home and that therefore at seven o\u2019clock 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","12":" and went out. She came in again at two o\u2019clock with soup. He was lying as before. The tea stood untouched. Nastasya felt positively offended and began wrathfully rousing him. \u201cWhy are you lying like a log?\u201d she shouted, looking at him with repulsion. He got up, and sat down again, but said nothing and stared at the floor. \u201cAre you ill or not?\u201d asked Nastasya and again received no answer. \u201cYou\u2019d better go out and get a breath of air,\u201d she said after a pause. \u201cWill you eat it or not?\u201d \u201cAfterwards,\u201d he said weakly. \u201cYou can go.\u201d 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","13":" fails, the devil helps!\u201d 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. \u201cGood heavens! I had the money the day before yesterday and did not get a cap to wear instead!\u201d 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. \u201cWhat nonsense!\u201d he thought, \u201cbetter think of nothing at all!\u201d \u201cSo probably men led to execution clutch mentally at every object that meets them on the way,\u201d 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.","14":" 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\u2019 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\u2019s 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. \u201cIt\u2019s red, and on red blood will be less noticeable,","15":" time for me to come herself. It\u2019s out of my way. And where the devil she can have got to, I can\u2019t make out. She sits here from year\u2019s end to year\u2019s end, the old hag; her legs are bad and yet here all of a sudden she is out for a walk!\u201d \u201cHadn\u2019t we better ask the porter?\u201d \u201cWhat?\u201d \u201cWhere she\u2019s gone and when she\u2019ll be back.\u201d \u201cHm.... Damn it all!... We might ask.... But you know she never does go anywhere.\u201d And he once more tugged at the door-handle. \u201cDamn it all. There\u2019s nothing to be done, we must go!\u201d \u201cStay!\u201d cried the young man suddenly. \u201cDo you see how the door shakes if you pull it?\u201d \u201cWell?\u201d \u201cThat shows it\u2019s not locked, but fastened with the hook! Do you hear how the hook clanks?\u201d \u201cWell?\u201d \u201cWhy, don\u2019t 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\u2019t you see? So there they are sitting inside and don\u2019t open the door!\u201d \u201cWell! And so they must be!\u201d cried Koch, astonished. \u201cWhat are they about in there?\u201d And he began furiously shaking the door. \u201cStay!\u201d cried the young man again. \u201cDon\u2019t pull at it! There must be something wrong.... Here, you\u2019ve been ringing and pulling at the door and still they don\u2019t open! So either they\u2019ve both fainted or...\u201d \u201cWhat?\u201d \u201cI tell you what. Let\u2019s go fetch the porter, let him wake them up","16":" reason has not quite deserted me, so I still have some sense and memory, since I guessed it of myself,\u201d he thought triumphantly, with a deep sigh of relief; \u201cit\u2019s simply the weakness of fever, a moment\u2019s delirium,\u201d 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; \u201ctraces indeed! The tip of the sock was soaked with blood;\u201d he must have unwarily stepped into that pool.... \u201cBut what am I to do with this now? Where am I to put the sock and rags and pocket?\u201d He gathered them all up in his hands and stood in the middle of the room. \u201cIn 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,\u201d he repeated, sitting down on the sofa again, \u201cand at once, this minute, without lingering...\u201d 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 \u201cgo 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!\u201d 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. \u201cOpen, do, are you dead or alive? He keeps sleeping here!\u201d shouted Nastasya, banging with her fist on the door. \u201cFor whole days together he\u2019s snoring here like a dog! A dog he is too. Open, I tell you. It\u2019s past ten.\u201d \u201cMaybe he\u2019s not at home,\u201d said a man\u2019s voice. \u201cHa! that\ufffd","17":" said a couple of words in French to a foreigner who was in the room, and said them fairly correctly. \u201cLuise Ivanovna, you can sit down,\u201d 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. \u201cIch danke,\u201d 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. \u201cWhat do you want?\u201d he shouted, apparently astonished that such a ragged fellow was not annihilated by the majesty of his glance. \u201cI was summoned... by a notice...\u201d Raskolnikov faltered. \u201cFor the recovery of money due, from _the student_,\u201d the head clerk interfered hurriedly, tearing himself from his papers. \u201c","18":" vice, my friend, but we know you go off like powder, you can\u2019t bear a slight, I daresay you took offence at something and went too far yourself,\u201d continued Nikodim Fomitch, turning affably to Raskolnikov. \u201cBut 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\u2019s all over! And at the bottom he\u2019s a heart of gold! His nickname in the regiment was the Explosive Lieutenant....\u201d \u201cAnd what a regiment it was, too,\u201d 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. \u201cExcuse me, Captain,\u201d he began easily, suddenly addressing Nikodim Fomitch, \u201cwill 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\u2019t 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!...\u201d \u201cBut that is not our business, you know,\u201d the head clerk was observing. \u201cYes, yes. I perfectly agree with you. But allow me to explain...\u201d 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. \u201cAllow me to","19":"coat, 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: \u201cFling them into the canal, and all traces hidden in the water, the thing would be at an end.\u201d 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\u2019 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. \u201cWhy is it, or can it be my fancy?\u201d 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","20":" of the German text--in my opinion, the crudest charlatanism; it discusses the question, \u2018Is woman a human being?\u2019 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\u2019ve 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\u2019t contradict him, hang him! Well, would you like to do the second signature of \u2018_Is woman a human being?_\u2019 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\u2019t 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\u2019s bound to be a change for the better. Though who can tell, maybe it\u2019s sometimes for the worse. Will you take it?\u201d 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\u2019s again and laying on the table the","21":" to,\u201d said Nastasya. \u201cJust come to,\u201d echoed the man again, with a smile. \u201cAnd who are you?\u201d Razumihin asked, suddenly addressing him. \u201cMy 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?\u201d \u201cI am the messenger from our office, from the merchant Shelopaev, and I\u2019ve come on business.\u201d \u201cPlease sit down.\u201d Razumihin seated himself on the other side of the table. \u201cIt\u2019s a good thing you\u2019ve come to, brother,\u201d he went on to Raskolnikov. \u201cFor 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\u2019s 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\u2019t keep you,\u201d he said, addressing the man again. \u201cWill 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?\u201d \u201cThat was the day before yesterday, I venture to say, if you please, sir. That was Alexey Semyonovitch; he is in our office, too.\u201d \u201cHe was more intelligent than you, don\u2019t you think so?\u201d \u201cYes, indeed, sir, he is of more weight than I am.\u201d \u201cQuite so; go on.\u201d \u201cAt your mamma\u2019s request, through Afanasy Ivan","22":" not at all embarrassed by his silence. \u201cAh, the sly dog!\u201d Nastasya shrieked again. This conversation afforded her unspeakable delight. \u201cIt\u2019s 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\u2019s 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?\u201d \u201cNo,\u201d mumbled Raskolnikov, looking away, but feeling that it was better to keep up the conversation. \u201cShe isn\u2019t, is she?\u201d cried Razumihin, delighted to get an answer out of him. \u201cBut 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\u2019t understand it! Well, that\u2019s 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\u2019s 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\u2019s been cherishing that design a long time, but was sorry to lose the I O U, for you assured her yourself that your","23":"ve been out on my own business, too. You know I\u2019ve been moving to-day, moving with my uncle. I have an uncle living with me now. But that\u2019s no matter, to business. Give me the parcel, Nastasya. We will open it directly. And how do you feel now, brother?\u201d \u201cI am quite well, I am not ill. Razumihin, have you been here long?\u201d \u201cI tell you I\u2019ve been waiting for the last three hours.\u201d \u201cNo, before.\u201d \u201cHow do you mean?\u201d \u201cHow long have you been coming here?\u201d \u201cWhy I told you all about it this morning. Don\u2019t you remember?\u201d Raskolnikov pondered. The morning seemed like a dream to him. He could not remember alone, and looked inquiringly at Razumihin. \u201cHm!\u201d said the latter, \u201che 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.\u201d He began untying the bundle, which evidently interested him. \u201cBelieve me, brother, this is something specially near my heart. For we must make a man of you. Let\u2019s begin from the top. Do you see this cap?\u201d he said, taking out of the bundle a fairly good though cheap and ordinary cap. \u201cLet me try it on.\u201d \u201cPresently, afterwards,\u201d said Raskolnikov, waving it off pettishly. \u201cCome, Rodya, my boy, don\u2019t oppose it, afterwards will be too late; and I shan\u2019t sleep all night, for I bought it by guess, without measure. Just right!\u201d he cried triumphantly, fitting it on, \u201cjust 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","24":"! But if one looks at men in all ways--are there many good ones left? Why, I am sure I shouldn\u2019t be worth a baked onion myself... perhaps with you thrown in.\u201d \u201cThat\u2019s too little; I\u2019d give two for you.\u201d \u201cAnd I wouldn\u2019t 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\u2019ll 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\u2019t understand. You harm yourselves running another man down.... But if you want to know, we really have something in common.\u201d \u201cI should like to know what.\u201d \u201cWhy, it\u2019s all about a house-painter.... We are getting him out of a mess! Though indeed there\u2019s nothing to fear now. The matter is absolutely self-evident. We only put on steam.\u201d \u201cA painter?\u201d \u201cWhy, haven\u2019t 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...\u201d \u201cOh, I heard about that murder before and was rather interested in it... partly... for one reason.... I read about it in the papers, too....\u201d \u201cLizaveta was murdered, too,\u201d Nastasya blurted out, suddenly addressing Raskolnikov. She remained in the room all the time, standing by the door listening. \u201cLizaveta,\u201d murmured Raskolnikov hardly audibly. \u201cLizaveta, who sold old clothes. Didn\u2019t you know her? She used to come here. She mended a shirt for you, too.\u201d 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","25":" do you say to that?\u201d \u201cWell, anyway, there\u2019s the evidence.\u201d \u201cI 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: \u2018I did not find it in the street, but in the flat where I was painting with Dmitri.\u2019 \u2018And how was that?\u2019 \u2018Why, 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\u2019t remember. And the porter swore at me, and the other porter swore, too, and the porter\u2019s 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\u2019s 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....\u2019\u201d \u201cBehind the door? Lying behind the door? Behind the door?\u201d Raskolnikov cried suddenly, staring with a blank look of terror at Razumihin, and he slowly sat up on the sofa, leaning on his hand. \u201cYes... why? What\u2019s the matter? What\u2019s wrong?\u201d Raz","26":" \u201cYes, I am Raskolnikov! What do you want?\u201d The visitor scrutinised him and pronounced impressively: \u201cPyotr Petrovitch Luzhin. I believe I have reason to hope that my name is not wholly unknown to you?\u201d 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. \u201cIs it possible that you can up to the present have received no information?\u201d 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\u2019s face. Zossimov and Razumihin stared at him more inquisitively than ever, and at last he showed unmistakable signs of embarrassment. \u201cI had presumed and calculated,\u201d he faltered, \u201cthat a letter posted more than ten days, if not a fortnight ago...\u201d \u201cI say, why are you standing in the doorway?\u201d Razumihin interrupted suddenly. \u201cIf you\u2019ve something to say, sit down. Nastasya and you are so crowded. Nastasya, make room. Here\u2019s a chair, thread your way in!\u201d 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 \u201cthread his way in.\u201d 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. \u201cNo need to be nervous,\u201d the latter blurted out. \u201cRodya 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\u2019s, like him,","27":" I hope for your return to health...\u201d Raskolnikov did not even turn his head. Pyotr Petrovitch began getting up from his chair. \u201cOne of her customers must have killed her,\u201d Zossimov declared positively. \u201cNot a doubt of it,\u201d replied Razumihin. \u201cPorfiry doesn\u2019t give his opinion, but is examining all who have left pledges with her there.\u201d \u201cExamining them?\u201d Raskolnikov asked aloud. \u201cYes. What then?\u201d \u201cNothing.\u201d \u201cHow does he get hold of them?\u201d asked Zossimov. \u201cKoch has given the names of some of them, other names are on the wrappers of the pledges and some have come forward of themselves.\u201d \u201cIt must have been a cunning and practised ruffian! The boldness of it! The coolness!\u201d \u201cThat\u2019s just what it wasn\u2019t!\u201d interposed Razumihin. \u201cThat\u2019s 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\u2019t work. Suppose him to have been inexperienced, and it\u2019s 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\u2019s 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!\u201d \u201cYou are talking of the murder of the old pawnbroker, I believe?\u201d Pyotr Petrovitch put in, addressing Zossimov. He was","28":" 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\u2019s hand. She broke off abruptly on a sentimental high note, shouted sharply to the organ grinder \u201cCome on,\u201d and both moved on to the next shop. \u201cDo you like street music?\u201d said Raskolnikov, addressing a middle-aged man standing idly by him. The man looked at him, startled and wondering. \u201cI love to hear singing to a street organ,\u201d said Raskolnikov, and his manner seemed strangely out of keeping with the subject--\u201cI 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\u2019s no wind--you know what I mean?--and the street lamps shine through it...\u201d \u201cI don\u2019t know.... Excuse me...\u201d muttered the stranger, frightened by the question and Raskolnikov\u2019s 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\u2019s shop. \u201cIsn\u2019t there a man who keeps a","29":"Zametov; his lips were twisted again in a mocking smile. \u201cNo, I am not reading about the fires,\u201d he went on, winking at Zametov. \u201cBut confess now, my dear fellow, you\u2019re awfully anxious to know what I am reading about?\u201d \u201cI am not in the least. Mayn\u2019t I ask a question? Why do you keep on...?\u201d \u201cListen, you are a man of culture and education?\u201d \u201cI was in the sixth class at the gymnasium,\u201d said Zametov with some dignity. \u201cSixth class! Ah, my cock-sparrow! With your parting and your rings--you are a gentleman of fortune. Foo! what a charming boy!\u201d Here Raskolnikov broke into a nervous laugh right in Zametov\u2019s face. The latter drew back, more amazed than offended. \u201cFoo! how strange you are!\u201d Zametov repeated very seriously. \u201cI can\u2019t help thinking you are still delirious.\u201d \u201cI am delirious? You are fibbing, my cock-sparrow! So I am strange? You find me curious, do you?\u201d \u201cYes, curious.\u201d \u201cShall I tell you what I was reading about, what I was looking for? See what a lot of papers I\u2019ve made them bring me. Suspicious, eh?\u201d \u201cWell, what is it?\u201d \u201cYou prick up your ears?\u201d \u201cHow do you mean--\u2018prick up my ears\u2019?\u201d \u201cI\u2019ll explain that afterwards, but now, my boy, I declare to you... no, better \u2018I confess\u2019... No, that\u2019s not right either; \u2018I make a deposition and you take it.\u2019 I depose that I was reading, that I was looking and searching....\u201d he screwed up his eyes and paused. \u201cI was searching--and came here on purpose to do it--for news of the murder of the old pawnbroker","30":"\ufffdt 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,\u201d he shouted to the waiter, getting up and taking his cap, \u201chow much?\u201d \u201cThirty copecks,\u201d the latter replied, running up. \u201cAnd there is twenty copecks for vodka. See what a lot of money!\u201d he held out his shaking hand to Zametov with notes in it. \u201cRed 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\u2019ve cross-examined my landlady, I\u2019ll be bound.... Well, that\u2019s enough! _Assez caus\u00e9!_ Till we meet again!\u201d 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. \u201cIlya Petrovitch is a blockhead,\u201d 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. \u201cSo here you are!\u201d he shouted at the top of his voice--\u201cyou ran away from your bed! And here I\u2019ve been looking for you under the sofa! We went up to the garret. I almost beat Nastasya on","31":" 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\u2019t care about that either! What idiotic ideas come into one\u2019s head.\u201d 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\u2019s 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. \u201cThat wasn\u2019t so then,\u201d he thought. Here was the flat on the second storey where Nikolay and Dmitri had been working. \u201cIt\u2019s shut up and the door newly painted. So it\u2019s to let.\u201d Then the third storey and the fourth. \u201cHere!\u201d 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","32":". 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. \u201cYou wouldn\u2019t believe, you can\u2019t imagine, Polenka,\u201d she said, walking about the room, \u201cwhat a happy luxurious life we had in my papa\u2019s 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, \u2018We look upon you, Ivan Mihailovitch, as our governor!\u2019 When I... when...\u201d she coughed violently, \u201coh, cursed life,\u201d she cried, clearing her throat and pressing her","33":", who was shaking in the corner, as though she were in a fit, and staring at him with her wondering childish eyes. \u201cA-ah,\u201d he signed towards her uneasily. He wanted to say something. \u201cWhat now?\u201d cried Katerina Ivanovna. \u201cBarefoot, barefoot!\u201d he muttered, indicating with frenzied eyes the child\u2019s bare feet. \u201cBe silent,\u201d Katerina Ivanovna cried irritably, \u201cyou know why she is barefooted.\u201d \u201cThank God, the doctor,\u201d 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\u2019s 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\u2019s 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. \u201cIt\u2019s wonderful that he has recovered consciousness,\u201d the doctor whispered softly to Raskolnikov. \u201cWhat do you think of him?\u201d he asked. \u201cHe will die immediately.\u201d \u201cIs there really no hope?\u201d \u201cNot 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.\u201d \u201cBetter bleed him then.\u201d \u201cIf you like.... But I warn you it will be perfectly useless.\u201d 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 ","34":" more brightly. \u201cI knew it was sister Sonia sent you.\u201d \u201cMamma sent me, too... when sister Sonia was sending me, mamma came up, too, and said \u2018Run fast, Polenka.\u2019\u201d \u201cDo you love sister Sonia?\u201d \u201cI love her more than anyone,\u201d Polenka answered with a peculiar earnestness, and her smile became graver. \u201cAnd will you love me?\u201d By way of answer he saw the little girl\u2019s face approaching him, her full lips na\u00efvely 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. \u201cI am sorry for father,\u201d she said a moment later, raising her tear-stained face and brushing away the tears with her hands. \u201cIt\u2019s nothing but misfortunes now,\u201d she added suddenly with that peculiarly sedate air which children try hard to assume when they want to speak like grown-up people. \u201cDid your father love you?\u201d \u201cHe loved Lida most,\u201d she went on very seriously without a smile, exactly like grown-up people, \u201che 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,\u201d she added with dignity. \u201cAnd 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\u2019s time my education began.\u201d \u201cAnd do you know your prayers?\u201d \u201cOf 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 \u2018Ave Maria\u2019 and then another prayer: \u2018Lord, forgive and bless sister Sonia,\u2019 and then another, \u2018Lord, forgive and bless our second father.\u2019 For","35":" crack...\u201d They were already at the foot of the last flight of stairs, at the level of the landlady\u2019s door, and they could, as a fact, see from below that there was a light in Raskolnikov\u2019s garret. \u201cQueer! Nastasya, perhaps,\u201d observed Razumihin. \u201cShe is never in my room at this time and she must be in bed long ago, but... I don\u2019t care! Good-bye!\u201d \u201cWhat do you mean? I am coming with you, we\u2019ll come in together!\u201d \u201cI 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!\u201d \u201cWhat\u2019s the matter with you, Rodya?\u201d \u201cNothing... come along... you shall be witness.\u201d They began mounting the stairs, and the idea struck Razumihin that perhaps Zossimov might be right after all. \u201cAh, I\u2019ve upset him with my chatter!\u201d he muttered to himself. When they reached the door they heard voices in the room. \u201cWhat is it?\u201d 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 \u201crunning away\u201d to-day, ill and, as they understood from her story, delirious! \u201cGood Heavens, what had become of him?\u201d Both had been weeping, both had been in anguish for that hour and a half. A cry of joy, of ecstasy,","36":"\ufffdYou can\u2019t go to the landlady, that\u2019s perfect nonsense!\u201d he cried. \u201cIf you stay, though you are his mother, you\u2019ll drive him to a frenzy, and then goodness knows what will happen! Listen, I\u2019ll tell you what I\u2019ll do: Nastasya will stay with him now, and I\u2019ll conduct you both home, you can\u2019t be in the streets alone; Petersburg is an awful place in that way.... But no matter! Then I\u2019ll run straight back here and a quarter of an hour later, on my word of honour, I\u2019ll bring you news how he is, whether he is asleep, and all that. Then, listen! Then I\u2019ll run home in a twinkling--I\u2019ve a lot of friends there, all drunk--I\u2019ll fetch Zossimov--that\u2019s 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\u2019ll drag him to Rodya, and then to you, so that you\u2019ll get two reports in the hour--from the doctor, you understand, from the doctor himself, that\u2019s a very different thing from my account of him! If there\u2019s anything wrong, I swear I\u2019ll bring you here myself, but, if it\u2019s all right, you go to bed. And I\u2019ll spend the night here, in the passage, he won\u2019t hear me, and I\u2019ll tell Zossimov to sleep at the landlady\u2019s, 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\u2019s all right for me, but it\u2019s out of the question for you: she wouldn\u2019t take you, for she\u2019s... for she\u2019s a fool... She\u2019d 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,","37":" on the stairs that Praskovya Pavlovna, Raskolnikov\u2019s 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\u2019s 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\u2019s departure, there came two subdued but hurried knocks at the door: he had come back. \u201cI won\u2019t come in, I haven\u2019t time,\u201d he hastened to say when the door was opened. \u201cHe sleeps like a top, soundly, quietly, and God grant he may sleep ten hours. Nastasya\u2019s with him; I told her not to leave till I came. Now I am fetching Zossimov, he will report to you and then you\u2019d better turn in; I can see you are too tired to do anything....\u201d And he ran off down the corridor. \u201cWhat a very competent and... devoted young man!\u201d cried Pulcheria Alexandrovna exceedingly delighted. \u201cHe seems a splendid person!\u201d Avdotya Romanovna replied with some warmth, resuming her walk up and down the room. It was nearly an","38":" 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, \u201cthat is, all the uncleanness of his coarse and envious heart\u201d! 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. \u201cOf course,\u201d he muttered to himself a minute later with a feeling of self-abasement, \u201cof course, all these infamies can never be wiped out or smoothed over... and so it\u2019s 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!\u201d And yet as he dressed he examined his attire more carefully than usual. He hadn\u2019t another suit--if he had had, perhaps he wouldn\u2019t have put it on. \u201cI would have made a point of not putting it on.\u201d 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","39":" my brother\u2019s character... and have told it impartially. I am glad. I thought that you were too uncritically devoted to him,\u201d observed Avdotya Romanovna with a smile. \u201cI think you are right that he needs a woman\u2019s care,\u201d she added thoughtfully. \u201cI didn\u2019t say so; but I daresay you are right, only...\u201d \u201cWhat?\u201d \u201cHe loves no one and perhaps he never will,\u201d Razumihin declared decisively. \u201cYou mean he is not capable of love?\u201d \u201cDo you know, Avdotya Romanovna, you are awfully like your brother, in everything, indeed!\u201d 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\u2019t help laughing when she looked at him. \u201cYou may both be mistaken about Rodya,\u201d Pulcheria Alexandrovna remarked, slightly piqued. \u201cI 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\u2019t 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\u2019s daughter?\u201d \u201cDid you hear about that affair?\u201d asked Avdotya Romanovna. \u201cDo you suppose----\u201d Pulcheria Alexandrovna continued warmly. \u201cDo 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","40":"; who is Marfa Petrovna?\u201d \u201cShe died suddenly; and only fancy...\u201d \u201cAfterwards, mamma,\u201d put in Dounia. \u201cHe doesn\u2019t know who Marfa Petrovna is.\u201d \u201cAh, you don\u2019t know? And I was thinking that you knew all about us. Forgive me, Dmitri Prokofitch, I don\u2019t 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\u2019t be angry with me for saying so. Dear me, what\u2019s the matter with your right hand? Have you knocked it?\u201d \u201cYes, I bruised it,\u201d muttered Razumihin overjoyed. \u201cI 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.\u201d \u201cDon\u2019t question him too much about anything if you see him frown; don\u2019t ask him too much about his health; he doesn\u2019t like that.\u201d \u201cAh, Dmitri Prokofitch, how hard it is to be a mother! But here are the stairs.... What an awful staircase!\u201d \u201cMother, you are quite pale, don\u2019t distress yourself, darling,\u201d said Dounia caressing her, then with flashing eyes she added: \u201cHe ought to be happy at seeing you, and you are tormenting yourself so.\u201d \u201cWait, I\u2019ll peep in and see whether he has waked up.\u201d The ladies slowly followed Razumihin, who went on before, and when they reached the landlady\ufffd","41":"olnikov answered with special carefulness. \u201cI remember everything even to the slightest detail, and yet--why I did that and went there and said that, I can\u2019t clearly explain now.\u201d \u201cA familiar phenomenon,\u201d interposed Zossimov, \u201cactions 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\u2019s like a dream.\u201d \u201cPerhaps it\u2019s a good thing really that he should think me almost a madman,\u201d thought Raskolnikov. \u201cWhy, people in perfect health act in the same way too,\u201d observed Dounia, looking uneasily at Zossimov. \u201cThere is some truth in your observation,\u201d the latter replied. \u201cIn 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.\u201d At the word \u201cmadman,\u201d 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. \u201cWell, what about the man who was run over? I interrupted you!\u201d Razumihin cried hastily. \u201cWhat?\u201d Raskolnikov seemed to wake up. \u201cOh... 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\u2019s a widow now, in consumption, a poor creature... three little children, starving... nothing in the house... there\u2019s a daughter, too... perhaps you\u2019d have given it yourself if you\u2019d seen them. But I had no right to do it I admit,","42":"odya! It is the same as yesterday again,\u201d Pulcheria Alexandrovna cried, mournfully. \u201cAnd why do you call yourself a scoundrel? I can\u2019t bear it. You said the same yesterday.\u201d \u201cBrother,\u201d Dounia answered firmly and with the same dryness. \u201cIn 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....\u201d \u201cShe is lying,\u201d he thought to himself, biting his nails vindictively. \u201cProud creature! She won\u2019t 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!\u201d \u201cIn fact,\u201d continued Dounia, \u201cI 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?\u201d She, too, flushed, and there was a gleam of anger in her eyes. \u201cAll?\u201d he asked, with a malignant grin. \u201cWithin certain limits. Both the manner and form of Pyotr Petrovitch\u2019s 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?\u201d \u201cAnd 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","43":" speaking. \u201cI will try, certainly, most certainly,\u201d answered Raskolnikov. He, too, stood up, and he, too, faltered and could not finish his sentence. \u201cPlease sit down,\u201d he said, suddenly. \u201cI want to talk to you. You are perhaps in a hurry, but please, be so kind, spare me two minutes,\u201d 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\u2019s pale face flushed, a shudder passed over him, his eyes glowed. \u201cMother,\u201d he said, firmly and insistently, \u201cthis 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.\u201d Pulcheria Alexandrovna glanced at Sonia, and slightly screwed up her eyes. In spite of her embarrassment before Rodya\u2019s urgent and challenging look, she could not deny herself that satisfaction. Dounia gazed gravely and intently into the poor girl\u2019s face, and scrutinised her with perplexity. Sonia, hearing herself introduced, tried to raise her eyes again, but was more embarrassed than ever. \u201cI wanted to ask you,\u201d said Raskolnikov, hastily, \u201chow things were arranged yesterday. You were not worried by the police, for instance?\u201d \u201cNo, that was all right... it was too evident, the cause of death... they did not worry us... only the lodgers are angry.\u201d \u201cWhy?\u201d \u201cAt the body\u2019s 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\u2019s necessary...\u201d \u201cTo-day, then?\u201d \u201cShe begs you to do us the honour to be in","44":" 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\u2019s it! It is all turning out splendidly.... Oh, yes, Sofya Ivanovna...\u201d \u201cSofya Semyonovna,\u201d corrected Raskolnikov. \u201cSofya Semyonovna, this is my friend Razumihin, and he is a good man.\u201d \u201cIf you have to go now,\u201d Sonia was beginning, not looking at Razumihin at all, and still more embarrassed. \u201cLet us go,\u201d decided Raskolnikov. \u201cI will come to you to-day, Sofya Semyonovna. Only tell me where you live.\u201d 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. \u201cDon\u2019t you lock up?\u201d asked Razumihin, following him on to the stairs. \u201cNever,\u201d answered Raskolnikov. \u201cI have been meaning to buy a lock for these two years. People are happy who have no need of locks,\u201d he said, laughing, to Sonia. They stood still in the gateway. \u201cDo you go to the right, Sofya Semyonovna? How did you find me, by the way?\u201d 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. \u201cWhy, you gave your address to Polenka yesterday.\u201d \u201cPolenka? Oh, yes; Polenka, that is the little girl. She is your sister? Did I give her the address?\u201d \u201cWhy, had you forgotten?\u201d \u201cNo, I remember.\u201d \u201cI 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, ","45":" Eh? That\u2019s something unheard of! Why, I do believe you\u2019ve got pomatum on your hair! Bend down.\u201d \u201cPig!\u201d Raskolnikov laughed as though he could not restrain himself. So laughing, they entered Porfiry Petrovitch\u2019s flat. This is what Raskolnikov wanted: from within they could be heard laughing as they came in, still guffawing in the passage. \u201cNot a word here or I\u2019ll... brain you!\u201d 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\u2019s 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 \u201cspontaneous\u201d mirth gave the whole scene the appearance of most genuine fun and naturalness. Razumihin strengthened this impression as though on purpose. \u201cFool! You fiend,\u201d 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. \u201cBut why break chairs, gentlemen? You know it\u2019s a loss to the Crown,\u201d Porfiry Petrovitch quoted gaily. ","46":" his head in a womanish way. \u201cNonsense! Don\u2019t you believe it! But you don\u2019t believe it anyway,\u201d Raskolnikov let slip in his anger. But Porfiry Petrovitch did not seem to catch those strange words. \u201cBut how could you have gone out if you hadn\u2019t been delirious?\u201d Razumihin got hot suddenly. \u201cWhat 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.\u201d \u201cI was awfully sick of them yesterday.\u201d Raskolnikov addressed Porfiry suddenly with a smile of insolent defiance, \u201cI ran away from them to take lodgings where they wouldn\u2019t 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.\u201d He could have strangled Zametov at that moment, so hateful were his expression and his silence to him. \u201cIn my opinion you talked sensibly and even artfully, but you were extremely irritable,\u201d Zametov pronounced dryly. \u201cAnd Nikodim Fomitch was telling me to-day,\u201d put in Porfiry Petrovitch, \u201cthat he met you very late last night in the lodging of a man who had been run over.\u201d \u201cAnd there,\u201d said Razumihin, \u201cweren\u2019t 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!\u201d \u201cMaybe I found a treasure somewhere and you know nothing of it? So that\u2019s why I was liberal yesterday.... Mr. Zametov knows I\u2019ve found a treasure! Excuse us, please, for disturbing you for half an hour with such trivialities,\u201d he said, turning to Porfiry","47":" and \u2018extraordinary.\u2019 Ordinary men have to live in submission, have no right to transgress the law, because, don\u2019t 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?\u201d \u201cWhat do you mean? That can\u2019t be right?\u201d 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. \u201cThat wasn\u2019t quite my contention,\u201d he began simply and modestly. \u201cYet I admit that you have stated it almost correctly; perhaps, if you like, perfectly so.\u201d (It almost gave him pleasure to admit this.) \u201cThe only difference is that I don\u2019t 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 \u2018extraordinary\u2019 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\u2019t 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","48":"\ufffd \u201cAnd what if we do catch him?\u201d \u201cThen he gets what he deserves.\u201d \u201cYou are certainly logical. But what of his conscience?\u201d \u201cWhy do you care about that?\u201d \u201cSimply from humanity.\u201d \u201cIf he has a conscience he will suffer for his mistake. That will be his punishment--as well as the prison.\u201d \u201cBut the real geniuses,\u201d asked Razumihin frowning, \u201cthose who have the right to murder? Oughtn\u2019t they to suffer at all even for the blood they\u2019ve shed?\u201d \u201cWhy the word _ought_? It\u2019s 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,\u201d 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. \u201cWell, you may abuse me, be angry with me if you like,\u201d Porfiry Petrovitch began again, \u201cbut I can\u2019t 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.\u201d \u201cVery good, tell me your little notion,\u201d Raskolnikov stood waiting, pale and grave before him. \u201cWell, you see... I really don\u2019t know how to express it properly.... It\u2019s a playful, psychological idea.... When you were writing your article, surely you couldn\u2019t have helped, he-he! fancying yourself... just a little, an \u2018extraordinary\u2019 man, uttering a _new word_ in your sense.... That\u2019s so, isn\u2019t it?\u201d \u201cQuite possibly,\u201d Raskolnikov answered contemptuously. Razumih","49":" to admit all the external facts that can\u2019t 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.\u201d \u201cBut 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\u2019clock. And so he would have caught you over a detail.\u201d \u201cYes, 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.\u201d \u201cBut how could you forget it?\u201d \u201cNothing 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....\u201d \u201cHe is a knave then, if that is so!\u201d 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. \u201cI am getting a relish for certain aspects!\u201d 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\u2019s. \u201cGo in alone!\u201d said Raskolnikov suddenly. \u201cI will be back directly.\u201d \u201cWhere are you going? Why, we are just here.\u201d \u201cI can\u2019","50":" 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,\u201d he added, grinding his teeth, \u201cis 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 \u2018prophet\u2019 with his sabre, on his steed: Allah commands and \u2018trembling\u2019 creation must obey! The \u2018prophet\u2019 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\u2019s for you to obey, trembling creation, and not _to have desires_, for that\u2019s not for you!... I shall never, never forgive the old woman!\u201d His hair was soaked with sweat, his quivering lips were parched, his eyes were fixed on the ceiling. \u201cMother, sister--how I loved them! Why do I hate them now? Yes, I hate them, I feel a physical hatred for them, I can\u2019t 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\u2019s just what I might do.... _She_ must be the same as I am,\u201d he added, straining himself to think, as it were struggling with delirium. \u201cAh, 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\u2019s strange though, why is it I scarcely ever think of her, as though I hadn\u2019t killed her? Lizaveta! Sonia! Poor gentle things,","51":" else. But I\u2019ll tell you what I have been thinking to myself of late, on my way here in the train, especially: didn\u2019t I contribute to all that... Raskolnikov\u2019s # Basic, all are to the conclusion. But I # Basic, all are to conclude, didn\u2019t \ufffd\ufffda concern.\u201d \u201cBut what are you wondering, \u201cI wonder you trouble yourself, the equivalence. But are you convinced, \u201cNo matter how many days you switch: I was not here, but I was not; \u201d I think of any general rule, for example, here, she was not here, I was not here, I was not here, I was not here, I was not In a particular sentence, either a day of a rule test of theRunt. \u201cBut a day for two and all I can figure it too: I was not... only just, but a day for three and all a day of a first; I could even and 3,000 people like how the message had been found to the Reply point in the last 30 days. Of a day, they had no positive 22. One \u201csustued to all all all all the time, and live in fact. There are only a strongest and very ever, S.\u201d \u201cNo even is sure what what what there, 0 or Inot... work in all cases. There are instances of it with everyone. It\u2019s a most up and negative In\u2009'd for a better reason. \u201cNo,\u201d 0.\u2009Posted answered RQ \u201c\u201c\u201d and \u201c\u201d and \u201c\u201d and \ufffd\ufffd and \u201d and \u201d and \u201d and \u201d and \u201d and \u201d and \u201d and and.\u201d\u201d\u2009 \u201c I read and 01! act very perfectly. But a indifferent Inset And SOfNP. \u201c\u201d and \u201d and \u201d and \u201d and \u201d and","52":" too, were puzzled. For a minute they were silent. They stared in each other\u2019s faces. \u201cThat\u2019s all nonsense!\u201d Raskolnikov shouted with vexation. \u201cWhat does she say when she comes to you?\u201d \u201cShe! 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. \u2018You\u2019ve been so busy to-day, Arkady Ivanovitch, you have forgotten to wind the dining-room clock,\u2019 she said. All those seven years I\u2019ve 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\u2019d 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. \u2018Shall I tell your fortune for the journey, Arkady Ivanovitch?\u2019 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. \u2018Good day, Arkady Ivanovitch! How do you like my dress? Aniska can\u2019t make like this.\u2019 (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. \u2018I wonder you trouble to come to me about such trifles, Mar","53":" 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\u2019s _Madonna_ in Madam Prilukov\u2019s album, and I never left Marfa Petrovna\u2019s side for seven years, and I used to stay the night at Viazemsky\u2019s house in the Hay Market in the old days, and I may go up in a balloon with Berg, perhaps.\u201d \u201cOh, all right. Are you starting soon on your travels, may I ask?\u201d \u201cWhat travels?\u201d \u201cWhy, on that \u2018journey\u2019; you spoke of it yourself.\u201d \u201cA journey? Oh, yes. I did speak of a journey. Well, that\u2019s a wide subject.... if only you knew what you are asking,\u201d he added, and gave a sudden, loud, short laugh. \u201cPerhaps I\u2019ll get married instead of the journey. They\u2019re making a match for me.\u201d \u201cHere?\u201d \u201cYes.\u201d \u201cHow have you had time for that?\u201d \u201cBut 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\u2019s 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.\u201d \u201cAre you telling the truth?\u201d \u201cYes, tell her. Well, your servant. I am staying very near you.\u201d As he went out, Svidriga\u00eflov ran up against Razumihin in the doorway. CHAPTER II It was nearly eight o\u2019clock. The two young men hurried to Bakaleyev\u2019s,","54":"askolnikov listened attentively. \u201cAre you speaking the truth when you say that you have good evidence of this?\u201d Dounia asked sternly and emphatically. \u201cI 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 Svidriga\u00eflov 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 Svidriga\u00eflov. 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\u2019s 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.\u201d \u201cI heard, on the contrary, that this Philip hanged himself.\u201d \u201cQuite so, but what drove him, or rather perhaps disposed him, to suicide was the systematic persecution and severity of Mr. Svidriga\u00eflov.\u201d \u201cI don\u2019t know that,\u201d answered Dounia, dryly. \u201cI only heard a queer story that Philip was a sort of hypochondriac, a sort of domestic philosopher, the servants used to say, \u2018he read himself silly,\u2019 and that he hanged himself partly on account","55":"ave 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\u2019t know. All that is mean slander.\u201d \u201cExcuse me, sir,\u201d said Luzhin, quivering with fury. \u201cI enlarged upon your qualities and conduct in my letter solely in response to your sister\u2019s and mother\u2019s inquiries, how I found you, and what impression you made on me. As for what you\u2019ve alluded to in my letter, be so good as to point out one word of falsehood, show, that is, that you didn\u2019t throw away your money, and that there are not worthless persons in that family, however unfortunate.\u201d \u201cTo my thinking, you, with all your virtues, are not worth the little finger of that unfortunate girl at whom you throw stones.\u201d \u201cWould you go so far then as to let her associate with your mother and sister?\u201d \u201cI have done so already, if you care to know. I made her sit down to-day with mother and Dounia.\u201d \u201cRodya!\u201d cried Pulcheria Alexandrovna. Dounia crimsoned, Razumihin knitted his brows. Luzhin smiled with lofty sarcasm. \u201cYou may see for yourself, Avdotya Romanovna,\u201d he said, \u201cwhether 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.\u201d He got up from his chair and took his hat. \u201cBut 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.\u201d Pulcheria Alexandrovna was a little","56":". 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. \u201cWhat did Svidriga\u00eflov say to you?\u201d said Dounia, approaching him. \u201cYes, yes!\u201d cried Pulcheria Alexandrovna. Raskolnikov raised his head. \u201cHe wants to make you a present of ten thousand roubles and he desires to see you once in my presence.\u201d \u201cSee her! On no account!\u201d cried Pulcheria Alexandrovna. \u201cAnd how dare he offer her money!\u201d Then Raskolnikov repeated (rather dryly) his conversation with Svidriga\u00eflov, omitting his account of the ghostly visitations of Marfa Petrovna, wishing to avoid all unnecessary talk. \u201cWhat answer did you give him?\u201d asked Dounia. \u201cAt 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\u2019t want you to marry Luzhin.... His talk was altogether rather muddled.\u201d \u201cHow do you explain him to yourself, Rodya? How did he strike you?\u201d \u201cI must confess I don\u2019t quite understand him","57":"\u2019 end. Raskolnikov stopped once more. \u201cOnce for all, never ask me about anything. I have nothing to tell you. Don\u2019t come to see me. Maybe I\u2019ll come here.... Leave me, but _don\u2019t leave_ them. Do you understand me?\u201d 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\u2019s 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. \u201cDo you understand now?\u201d said Raskolnikov, his face twitching nervously. \u201cGo back, go to them,\u201d 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\u2019s door, a door opened three p","58":" 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\u2019s nothing to you!\u201d \u201cDid you know Lizaveta, the pedlar?\u201d \u201cYes.... Did you know her?\u201d Sonia asked with some surprise. \u201cKaterina Ivanovna is in consumption, rapid consumption; she will soon die,\u201d said Raskolnikov after a pause, without answering her question. \u201cOh, no, no, no!\u201d And Sonia unconsciously clutched both his hands, as though imploring that she should not. \u201cBut it will be better if she does die.\u201d \u201cNo, not better, not at all better!\u201d Sonia unconsciously repeated in dismay. \u201cAnd the children? What can you do except take them to live with you?\u201d \u201cOh, I don\u2019t know,\u201d 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. \u201cAnd, what, if even now, while Katerina Ivanovna is alive, you get ill and are taken to the hospital, what will happen then?\u201d he persisted pitilessly. \u201cHow can you? That cannot be!\u201d And Sonia\u2019s face worked with awful terror. \u201cCannot be?\u201d Raskolnikov went on with a harsh smile. \u201cYou 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...\u201d \u201cOh, no....","59":"\ufffd she asked, looking up at him across the table. Her voice became sterner and sterner. \u201cLong ago.... When I was at school. Read!\u201d \u201cAnd haven\u2019t you heard it in church?\u201d \u201cI... haven\u2019t been. Do you often go?\u201d \u201cN-no,\u201d whispered Sonia. Raskolnikov smiled. \u201cI understand.... And you won\u2019t go to your father\u2019s funeral to-morrow?\u201d \u201cYes, I shall. I was at church last week, too... I had a requiem service.\u201d \u201cFor whom?\u201d \u201cFor Lizaveta. She was killed with an axe.\u201d His nerves were more and more strained. His head began to go round. \u201cWere you friends with Lizaveta?\u201d \u201cYes.... She was good... she used to come... not often... she couldn\u2019t.... We used to read together and... talk. She will see God.\u201d 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. \u201cI shall be a religious maniac myself soon! It\u2019s infectious!\u201d \u201cRead!\u201d 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 \u201cunhappy lunatic.\u201d \u201cWhat for? You don\u2019t believe?...\u201d she whispered softly and as it were breathlessly. \u201cRead! I want you to,\u201d he persisted. \u201cYou used to read to Lizaveta.\u201d 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. \u201cNow a certain man was sick named Lazarus of Bethany...\u201d she forced herself at last to read, but at the third word her voice broke like an overstrained string. There was a catch in","60":"\u201cGood heavens, how does he know who killed Lizaveta? What did those words mean? It\u2019s awful!\u201d But at the same time _the idea_ did not enter her head, not for a moment! \u201cOh, 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!\u201d 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\u2019s room from Madame Resslich\u2019s 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\u2019s being uninhabited. But all that time Mr. Svidriga\u00eflov 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\u2019s 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\u2019clock 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","61":" afraid of an attack of paralysis. Do sit down. Please do, or I shall think you are angry...\u201d Raskolnikov did not speak; he listened, watching him, still frowning angrily. He did sit down, but still held his cap. \u201cI must tell you one thing about myself, my dear Rodion Romanovitch,\u201d Porfiry Petrovitch continued, moving about the room and again avoiding his visitor\u2019s eyes. \u201cYou see, I\u2019m a bachelor, a man of no consequence and not used to society; besides, I have nothing before me, I\u2019m set, I\u2019m 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\u2019est 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\u2019t want to deceive one another, I don\u2019t 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...\u201d Raskolnikov put down his cap and continued listening in silence with a serious frowning face to the vague and empty chatter of Porfiry Petrovitch. \u201cDoes he really want to distract my attention with his silly babble?\u201d \u201cI can\u2019t offer you coffee here; but why not spend five minutes with a friend?\u201d Porfiry pattered on, \u201cand you know all these official duties... please don\u2019t 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\ufffd","62":" far as I can judge of military matters, that is: on paper they\u2019d 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\u2019t help it, it\u2019s my weakness. I am fond of military science. And I\u2019m ever so fond of reading all military histories. I\u2019ve certainly missed my proper career. I ought to have been in the army, upon my word I ought. I shouldn\u2019t have been a Napoleon, but I might have been a major, he-he! Well, I\u2019ll tell you the whole truth, my dear fellow, about this _special case_, I mean: actual fact and a man\u2019s temperament, my dear sir, are weighty matters and it\u2019s astonishing how they sometimes deceive the sharpest calculation! I--listen to an old man--am speaking seriously, Rodion Romanovitch\u201d (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) \u201cMoreover, I\u2019m 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\u2019t 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\u2019s 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\u2019s temperament, worse luck for him! But young people carried away by their own wit don\u2019t think of that \u2018when they overstep all obstacles,\u2019 as you w","63":" 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?\u2019 That\u2019s 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\u2019t look at it normally and you see nothing, I say again.\u201d Raskolnikov started so that Porfiry Petrovitch could not fail to perceive it. \u201cYou are lying all the while,\u201d he cried, \u201cI don\u2019t know your object, but you are lying. You did not speak like that just now and I cannot be mistaken!\u201d \u201cI am lying?\u201d Porfiry repeated, apparently incensed, but preserving a good-humoured and ironical face, as though he were not in the least concerned at Raskolnikov\u2019s opinion of him. \u201cI 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\u2019t remember--that\u2019s 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!\u201d Raskolnikov looked haughtily and contemptuously at him. \u201cBriefly,\u201d he said loudly and imperiously, rising to his feet and in so doing pushing Porfiry back a little, \u201cbriefly, 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!\u201d \u201c","64":" the door; Porfiry was impatient for Raskolnikov to be gone. \u201cAnd your little surprise, aren\u2019t you going to show it to me?\u201d Raskolnikov said, sarcastically. \u201cWhy, his teeth are chattering as he asks, he-he! You are an ironical person! Come, till we meet!\u201d \u201cI believe we can say _good-bye_!\u201d \u201cThat\u2019s in God\u2019s hands,\u201d 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. \u201cOne word, Rodion Romanovitch; as to all the rest, it\u2019s in God\u2019s hands, but as a matter of form there are some questions I shall have to ask you... so we shall meet again, shan\u2019t we?\u201d And Porfiry stood still, facing him with a smile. \u201cShan\u2019t we?\u201d he added again. He seemed to want to say something more, but could not speak out. \u201cYou must forgive me, Porfiry Petrovitch, for what has just passed... I lost my temper,\u201d began Raskolnikov, who had so far regained his courage that he felt irresistibly inclined to display his coolness. \u201cDon\u2019t mention it, don\u2019t mention it,\u201d Porfiry replied, almost gleefully. \u201cI myself, too... I have a wicked temper, I admit it! But we shall meet again. If it\u2019s God\u2019s will, we may see a great deal of one another.\u201d \u201cAnd will get to know each other through and through?\u201d added Raskolnikov. \u201cYes; know each other through","65":" the ground with his finger. \u201cForgive me for my evil thoughts, and my slander.\u201d \u201cMay God forgive you,\u201d 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. \u201cIt all cuts both ways, now it all cuts both ways,\u201d repeated Raskolnikov, and he went out more confident than ever. \u201cNow we\u2019ll make a fight for it,\u201d 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 \u201ccowardice.\u201d 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\u2019s 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\u2019s interview. That was the second mistake he had made in temper, through impulsiveness and irritability.... Moreover, all that morning","66":" last night what I think about all such ceremonies. And she invited you too, I heard. You were talking to her yesterday...\u201d \u201cI 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\u2019s beyond everything!\u201d continued Pyotr Petrovitch, who seemed to have some object in pursuing the conversation. \u201cWhat? You say I am asked too? When was that? I don\u2019t remember. But I shan\u2019t go. Why should I? I only said a word to her in passing yesterday of the possibility of her obtaining a year\u2019s salary as a destitute widow of a government clerk. I suppose she has invited me on that account, hasn\u2019t she? He-he-he!\u201d \u201cI don\u2019t intend to go either,\u201d said Lebeziatnikov. \u201cI should think not, after giving her a thrashing! You might well hesitate, he-he!\u201d \u201cWho thrashed? Whom?\u201d cried Lebeziatnikov, flustered and blushing. \u201cWhy, you thrashed Katerina Ivanovna a month ago. I heard so yesterday... so that\u2019s what your convictions amount to... and the woman question, too, wasn\u2019t quite sound, he-he-he!\u201d and Pyotr Petrovitch, as though comforted, went back to clicking his beads. \u201cIt\u2019s all slander and nonsense!\u201d cried Lebeziatnikov, who was always afraid of allusions to the subject. \u201cIt was not like that at all, it was quite different. You\u2019ve heard it wrong; it\u2019s a libel. I was simply defending myself. She rushed at me first with her nails, she pulled out all my whiskers.... It\u2019s permissable for anyone, I should hope, to defend himself and I never allow anyone to use violence to me on principle, for it\u2019s an","67":"\u2019s so!\u201d 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 \u201ccesspool question\u201d 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. \u201cIt\u2019s your ill-luck yesterday that makes you so ill-humoured and annoying,\u201d blurted out Lebeziatnikov, who in spite of his \u201cindependence\u201d and his \u201cprotests\u201d did not venture to oppose Pyotr Petrovitch and still behaved to him with some of the respect habitual in earlier years. \u201cYou\u2019d better tell me this,\u201d Pyotr Petrovitch interrupted with haughty displeasure, \u201ccan 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\u2019ve all come back from the cemetery... I heard the sound of steps... I want to see her, that young person.\u201d \u201cWhat for?\u201d Lebeziatnikov asked with surprise. \u201cOh, 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\u2019s better you should be, indeed. For there\u2019s no knowing what you might imagine.\u201d \u201cI shan\u2019t imagine anything. I only asked and, if you\u2019ve anything to say to her, nothing is easier than to call her in. I\u2019ll go directly and you may be sure I won\u2019t be in your way.\u201d 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 \u201cpolitely and affably,\u201d but with a","68":"ziatnikov 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\u2019s disordered brain. Nearly ten of the twenty roubles, given by Raskolnikov for Marmeladov\u2019s funeral, were wasted upon it. Possibly Katerina Ivanovna felt obliged to honour the memory of the deceased \u201csuitably,\u201d that all the lodgers, and still more Amalia Ivanovna, might know \u201cthat he was in no way their inferior, and perhaps very much their superior,\u201d and that no one had the right \u201cto turn up his nose at him.\u201d Perhaps the chief element was that peculiar \u201cpoor man\u2019s pride,\u201d which compels many poor people to spend their last savings on some traditional social ceremony, simply in order to do \u201clike other people,\u201d and not to \u201cbe looked down upon.\u201d 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 \u201cwretched contemptible lodgers\u201d that she knew \u201chow to do things, how to entertain\u201d and that she had been brought up \u201cin a genteel, she might almost say aristocratic colonel\u2019s family\u201d and had not been meant for sweeping floors and washing the children\u2019s 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","69":" more! Have some beer! Won\u2019t you have some vodka? Look, he\u2019s jumped up and is making his bows, they must be quite starved, poor things. Never mind, let them eat! They don\u2019t make a noise, anyway, though I\u2019m really afraid for our landlady\u2019s silver spoons... Amalia Ivanovna!\u201d she addressed her suddenly, almost aloud, \u201cif your spoons should happen to be stolen, I won\u2019t be responsible, I warn you! Ha-ha-ha!\u201d She laughed turning to Raskolnikov, and again nodding towards the landlady, in high glee at her sally. \u201cShe didn\u2019t understand, she didn\u2019t understand again! Look how she sits with her mouth open! An owl, a real owl! An owl in new ribbons, ha-ha-ha!\u201d 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. \u201cDo 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\u2019t understand why Pyotr Petrovitch has not come? But where\u2019s Sonia? Where has she gone? Ah, there she is at last! what is it, Sonia, where have you been? It\u2019s odd that even at your father\u2019s funeral you","70":" 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\u2019s undoubted ability to assist her, of \u201cher gentleness, patience, devotion, generosity and good education,\u201d 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 \u201cnervous 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.\u201d 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 \u201cin the future boarding-school she would have to pay particular attention to _die W\u00e4sche_, 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.\u201d Katerina Ivanovna, who certainly was upset and very tired, as well as heartily sick of the dinner, at once cut short Amalia Ivanovna, saying \u201cshe knew nothing about it and was talking nonsense, that it was the business of the","71":" 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?\u201d \u201cI have taken nothing,\u201d Sonia whispered in terror, \u201cyou gave me ten roubles, here it is, take it.\u201d Sonia pulled her handkerchief out of her pocket, untied a corner of it, took out the ten-rouble note and gave it to Luzhin. \u201cAnd the hundred roubles you do not confess to taking?\u201d 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. \u201cGood God!\u201d broke from Sonia. \u201cAmalia Ivanovna, we shall have to send word to the police and therefore I humbly beg you meanwhile to send for the house porter,\u201d Luzhin said softly and even kindly. \u201c_Gott der Barmherzige!_ I knew she was the thief,\u201d cried Amalia Ivanovna, throwing up her hands. \u201cYou knew it?\u201d Luzhin caught her up, \u201cthen 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.\u201d There was a buzz of loud conversation on all sides. All were in movement. \u201cWhat!\u201d cried Katerina Ivanovna, suddenly realising the position, and she rushed at Luzhin. \u201cWhat! You accuse her of stealing? Sonia? Ah, the wretches,","72":" saw it!\u201d Luzhin turned pale. \u201cWhat lies!\u201d he cried impudently, \u201cwhy, how could you, standing by the window, see the note? You fancied it with your short-sighted eyes. You are raving!\u201d \u201cNo, I didn\u2019t 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\u2019s 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\u2019t 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\u2019ll take my oath.\u201d 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. \u201cI was mistaken in you! Protect her! You are the only one to take her part! She is an orphan. God has sent you!\u201d Katerina Ivanovna, hardly knowing what she was doing, sank on her knees before him. \u201cA pack of nonsense!\u201d yelled Luzhin, roused to fury, \u201cit\u2019s all nonsense you\u2019ve been talking! \u2018An idea struck you, you didn\u2019t think, you noticed\u2019--what does it amount to? So I gave it to her on the sly on purpose? What for?","73":". \u201cWhat! As though that godless calumny was not enough--this vile creature attacks me! What! On the day of my husband\u2019s 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?\u201d wailed the poor woman, sobbing and gasping. \u201cGood God!\u201d she cried with flashing eyes, \u201cis 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\u2019ll come back. Wait for me, if you have to wait in the street. We will see whether there is justice on earth!\u201d 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.... \u201cNow it\u2019s time for me to go,\u201d thought Raskolnikov. \u201cWell, Sofya Semyonovna, we shall see what you\u2019ll say now!\u201d And he set off in the direction of Sonia\u2019s 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","74":" her. \u201cBut you... why do you frighten me like this?\u201d she said, smiling like a child. \u201cI must be a great friend of _his_... since I know,\u201d Raskolnikov went on, still gazing into her face, as though he could not turn his eyes away. \u201cHe... 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.\u201d Another awful moment passed. Both still gazed at one another. \u201cYou can\u2019t guess, then?\u201d he asked suddenly, feeling as though he were flinging himself down from a steeple. \u201cN-no...\u201d whispered Sonia. \u201cTake a good look.\u201d 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\u2019s 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. \u201cHave you guessed?\u201d he whispered at last. \u201cGood God!\u201d 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","75":" Well, I too... left off thinking about it... murdered her, following his example. And that\u2019s exactly how it was! Do you think it funny? Yes, Sonia, the funniest thing of all is that perhaps that\u2019s just how it was.\u201d Sonia did not think it at all funny. \u201cYou had better tell me straight out... without examples,\u201d she begged, still more timidly and scarcely audibly. He turned to her, looked sadly at her and took her hands. \u201cYou are right again, Sonia. Of course that\u2019s all nonsense, it\u2019s 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\u2019t 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\u201d (he repeated it as though it were a lesson) \u201cand 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\u2019s a hard thing to pass everything by all one\u2019s life, to turn one\u2019s back upon everything, to forget one\u2019s mother and decorously accept the insults inflicted on one\u2019s 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\u2019s 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\u2019s all.... Well, of course in killing the old woman I did wrong.... Well, that\u2019s enough.","76":"?\u201d 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. \u201cYou mean Siberia, Sonia? I must give myself up?\u201d he asked gloomily. \u201cSuffer and expiate your sin by it, that\u2019s what you must do.\u201d \u201cNo! I am not going to them, Sonia!\u201d \u201cBut how will you go on living? What will you live for?\u201d cried Sonia, \u201chow 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!\u201d she cried, \u201cwhy, he knows it all himself. How, how can he live by himself! What will become of you now?\u201d \u201cDon\u2019t be a child, Sonia,\u201d he said softly. \u201cWhat wrong have I done them? Why should I go to them? What should I say to them? That\u2019s 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?\u201d he added with a bitter smile. \u201cWhy, they would laugh at me, and would call me a fool for not getting it. A coward and a fool! They wouldn\u2019t understand and they don\u2019t deserve to understand. Why should I go to them? I won\u2019t. Don\u2019t be a child, Sonia....\u201d \u201cIt will be too much for you to bear, too much!\u201d she repeated, holding out her hands in despairing supplication. \u201cPerhaps I\u2019ve been unfair to myself,\u201d he observed gloomily, pondering, \u201cperhaps after all I am a man and not a louse and I\u2019ve been in too great a hurry to condemn","77":" thoughtful but not stern. Her eyes were bright and soft. He saw that she too had come to him with love. \u201cBrother, 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\u2019t think so, and I fully understand how indignant you must be, and that that indignation may have a permanent effect on you. That\u2019s what I am afraid of. As for your cutting yourself off from us, I don\u2019t judge you, I don\u2019t 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\u2019t worry about her; _I_ will set her mind at rest; but don\u2019t you try her too much--come once at least; remember that she is your mother. And now I have come simply to say\u201d (Dounia began to get up) \u201cthat if you should need me or should need... all my life or anything... call me, and I\u2019ll come. Good-bye!\u201d She turned abruptly and went towards the door. \u201cDounia!\u201d Raskolnikov stopped her and went towards her. \u201cThat Razumihin, Dmitri Prokofitch, is a very good fellow.\u201d Dounia flushed slightly. \u201cWell?\u201d she asked, waiting a moment. \u201cHe is competent, hardworking, honest and capable of real love.... Good-bye, Dounia.\u201d Dounia flushed crimson, then suddenly she took alarm. \u201cBut what does it mean, brother? Are we really parting for ever that you... give me such a parting message?\u201d \u201cNever mind.... Good-bye.\u201d He turned away, and walked to","78":" at once that you are children of good family, and that will be much more touching.... You might sing \u2018Marlborough s\u2019en va-t-ellers.\u2019 -In that case, however, you might sing \u2018Marlborough s\u2019en va-t-ellers.\u2019 \u201cI think that makes sing \u2018Marlborough s\u2019en va-t-ellers.\u201d she began singing. \u201cBut no, better sing \u2018Marlborough s\u2019en va-t-ellers.\u201d \u2022 #### Re:Soum sauat sauat sauat sauat sauat sauat sauat sauat sauat Shem Up in the house... \u2022 #### Re:Soum sauat sauat sauat sauat sauat sauat Shem Up, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I,","79":", I lodge here at Madame Resslich\u2019s, 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.\u201d \u201cYou?\u201d \u201cYes,\u201d continued Svidriga\u00eflov, shaking with laughter. \u201cI 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\u2019ll see that you can get on with me!\u201d 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 Svidriga\u00eflov, he might be said to be permanently thinking of Svidriga\u00eflov. From the time of Svidriga\u00eflov\u2019s too","80":"\u2019s pretty plain.\u201d Razumihin paused for a minute. \u201cYou always have been a very rational person and you\u2019ve never been mad, never,\u201d he observed suddenly with warmth. \u201cYou\u2019re right: I shall drink. Good-bye!\u201d And he moved to go out. \u201cI was talking with my sister--the day before yesterday, I think it was--about you, Razumihin.\u201d \u201cAbout me! But... where can you have seen her the day before yesterday?\u201d Razumihin stopped short and even turned a little pale. One could see that his heart was throbbing slowly and violently. \u201cShe came here by herself, sat there and talked to me.\u201d \u201cShe did!\u201d \u201cYes.\u201d \u201cWhat did you say to her... I mean, about me?\u201d \u201cI told her you were a very good, honest, and industrious man. I didn\u2019t tell her you love her, because she knows that herself.\u201d \u201cShe knows that herself?\u201d \u201cWell, it\u2019s 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.\u201d \u201cRodya! You see... well.... Ach, damn it! But where do you mean to go? Of course, if it\u2019s 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\u2019ve made it all up. Anyway you are a capital fellow, a capital fellow!...\u201d \u201cThat 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","81":"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: \u2018Tobacco\u2019s bad for you,\u2019 he said, \u2018your lungs are affected.\u2019 But how am I to give it up? What is there to take its place? I don\u2019t drink, that\u2019s the mischief, he-he-he, that I don\u2019t. Everything is relative, Rodion Romanovitch, everything is relative!\u201d \u201cWhy, he\u2019s playing his professional tricks again,\u201d 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. \u201cI came to see you the day before yesterday, in the evening; you didn\u2019t know?\u201d Porfiry Petrovitch went on, looking round the room. \u201cI came into this very room. I was passing by, just as I did to-day, and I thought I\u2019d 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\u2019t you lock your door?\u201d Raskolnikov\u2019s face grew more and more gloomy. Porfiry seemed to guess his state of mind. \u201cI\u2019ve come to have it out with you, Rodion Romanovitch, my dear fellow! I owe you an explanation and must give it to you,\u201d he continued with a slight smile, just patting Raskolnikov\u2019s 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. \u201cA strange scene passed between us last time we met, Rodion Romanovitch. Our first interview, too, was a strange one; but then... and","82":" \u201cAnd 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\u2019t 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\u2019t believe his story! You see what it is to be as firm as a rock! No, thought I, _Morgenfr\u00fch_. What has Nikolay got to do with it!\u201d \u201cRazumihin told me just now that you think Nikolay guilty and had yourself assured him of it....\u201d 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. \u201cMr. Razumihin!\u201d cried Porfiry Petrovitch, seeming glad of a question from Raskolnikov, who had till then been silent. \u201cHe-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\u2019t 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,","83":" And how can you ask what advantage? Don\u2019t 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.\u201d 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. \u201cNo!\u201d he said, apparently abandoning all attempt to keep up appearances with Porfiry, \u201cit\u2019s not worth it, I don\u2019t care about lessening the sentence!\u201d \u201cThat\u2019s just what I was afraid of!\u201d Porfiry cried warmly and, as it seemed, involuntarily. \u201cThat\u2019s just what I feared, that you wouldn\u2019t care about the mitigation of sentence.\u201d Raskolnikov looked sadly and expressively at him. \u201cAh, don\u2019t disdain life!\u201d Porfiry went on. \u201cYou have a great deal of it still before you. How can you say you don\u2019t want a mitigation of sentence? You are an impatient fellow!\u201d \u201cA great deal of what lies before me?\u201d \u201cOf life. What sort of prophet are you, do you know much about it? Seek and ye shall find. This may be God\u2019s means for bringing you to Him. And it\u2019s not for ever, the bondage....\u201d \u201cThe time will be shortened,\u201d laughed Raskolnikov. \u201cWhy, 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\u2019t be afraid","84":"a\u00eflov, sitting at a tea-table right in the open window with a pipe in his mouth. Raskolnikov was dreadfully taken aback, almost terrified. Svidriga\u00eflov 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 Svidriga\u00eflov 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\u2019s room. A sly smile came into Svidriga\u00eflov\u2019s face and grew broader and broader. Each knew that he was seen and watched by the other. At last Svidriga\u00eflov broke into a loud laugh. \u201cWell, well, come in if you want me; I am here!\u201d he shouted from the window. Raskolnikov went up into the tavern. He found Svidriga\u00eflov 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 Svidriga\u00eflov 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\u2019 hall song in a rather husky contralto, to the accompaniment of the organ. \u201cCome, that\u2019s enough,\u201d S","85":", 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.\u201d \u201cBut what are you, and why have you come here?\u201d \u201cWhat 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!\u201d \u201cYou are a gambler, I believe?\u201d \u201cNo, a poor sort of gambler. A card-sharper--not a gambler.\u201d \u201cYou have been a card-sharper then?\u201d \u201cYes, I\u2019ve been a card-sharper too.\u201d \u201cDidn\u2019t you get thrashed sometimes?\u201d \u201cIt did happen. Why?\u201d \u201cWhy, you might have challenged them... altogether it must have been lively.\u201d \u201cI won\u2019t contradict you, and besides I am no hand at philosophy. I confess that I hastened here for the sake of the women.\u201d \u201cAs soon as you buried Marfa Petrovna?\u201d \u201cQuite so,\u201d Svidriga\u00eflov smiled with engaging candour. \u201cWhat of it? You seem to find something wrong in my speaking like that about women?\u201d \u201cYou ask whether I find anything wrong in vice?\u201d \u201cVice! Oh, that\u2019s what you are after! But I\u2019ll 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\u2019s an occupation, anyway.\u201d \u201cSo you hope for nothing here but vice?\u201d \u201cOh, 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","86":" 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\u2019s 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\u2019t your sister\u2019s 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\u2019t get her torture, she\u2019ll throw herself out of a window. I\u2019ve heard something of a Mr. Razumihin--he\u2019s said to be a sensible fellow; his surname suggests it, indeed. He\u2019s probably a divinity student. Well, he\u2019d 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\u2019t see clearly. Hang it all, why is she so handsome? It\u2019s 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","87":"\u2019t 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\u2019t 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\u2019s, 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\u2019s simply delicious! The present betrothed condition is perhaps better than marriage. Here you have what is called _la nature et la v\u00e9rit\u00e9_, ha-ha! I\u2019ve 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\u2019s Madonna. You know, the Sistine Madonna\u2019s face has something fantastic in it, the face of mournful religious ecstasy. Haven\u2019t you noticed it? Well, she\u2019s something in that line. The day after we\u2019d 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\u2019s 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\u2019t want to show it. We were left alone, she suddenly flung herself","88":" in revolt every moment, and now you tell me not to listen at doors. If that\u2019s 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\u2019t listen at doors, but one may murder old women at one\u2019s pleasure, you\u2019d better be off to America and make haste. Run, young man! There may still be time. I\u2019m speaking sincerely. Haven\u2019t you the money? I\u2019ll give you the fare.\u201d \u201cI\u2019m not thinking of that at all,\u201d Raskolnikov interrupted with disgust. \u201cI understand (but don\u2019t put yourself out, don\u2019t discuss it if you don\u2019t want to). I understand the questions you are worrying over--moral ones, aren\u2019t they? Duties of citizen and man? Lay them all aside. They are nothing to you now, ha-ha! You\u2019ll say you are still a man and a citizen. If so you ought not to have got into this coil. It\u2019s no use taking up a job you are not fit for. Well, you\u2019d better shoot yourself, or don\u2019t you want to?\u201d \u201cYou seem trying to enrage me, to make me leave you.\u201d \u201cWhat a queer fellow! But here we are. Welcome to the staircase. You see, that\u2019s the way to Sofya Semyonovna. Look, there is no one at home. Don\u2019t 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\u2019t be till late in the evening probably. Well, come to my room; you wanted to come and see me, didn\u2019t you? Here we are. Madame Resslich\u2019s 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","89":" 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\u2019s 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\u2019s and mother\u2019s position too. Above all, vanity, pride and vanity, though goodness knows he may have good qualities too.... I am not blaming him, please don\u2019t think it; besides, it\u2019s 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\u2019s all right as a theory, _une th\u00e9orie 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\u2019s humiliating for a young man of any pride, in our day especially....\u201d \u201cBut remorse? You deny him any moral feeling then? Is he like that?\u201d \u201cAh, 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\u2019s a misfortune to be broad","90":"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. \u201cThe wasp has stung me. She aimed straight at my head. What\u2019s this? Blood?\u201d 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 Svidriga\u00eflov 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. \u201cWell, you missed! Fire again, I\u2019ll wait,\u201d said Svidriga\u00eflov softly, still smiling, but gloomily. \u201cIf you go on like that, I shall have time to seize you before you cock again.\u201d Dounia started, quickly cocked the pistol and again raised it. \u201cLet me be,\u201d she cried in despair. \u201cI swear I\u2019ll shoot again. I... I\u2019ll kill you.\u201d \u201cWell... at three paces you can hardly help it. But if you don\u2019t... then.\u201d His eyes flashed and he took two steps forward. Dounia shot again: it missed fire. \u201cYou haven\u2019t loaded it properly. Never mind, you have another charge there. Get it ready, I\u2019ll wait.\u201d 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. \u201cAnd... now, of course she would kill him, at two paces!\u201d Suddenly she flung away the revolver. \u201cShe\u2019s dropped it!\u201d said Svidriga\u00eflov with surprise, and he drew a deep breath","91":" question, but began by smiling and rubbing her hands and then, if she were obliged to ascertain something--for instance, when Svidriga\u00eflov 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. Svidriga\u00eflov 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. Svidriga\u00eflov 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 Svidriga\u00eflov 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,","92":" 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. Svidriga\u00eflov 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","93":" to go or not. But nothing would have turned him back: his decision was taken. \u201cBesides, it doesn\u2019t matter, they still know nothing,\u201d he thought, \u201cand they are used to thinking of me as eccentric.\u201d He was appallingly dressed: his clothes torn and dirty, soaked with a night\u2019s 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. \u201cHere you are!\u201d she began, faltering with joy. \u201cDon\u2019t 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\u2019ve got into such a stupid habit of shedding tears. I\u2019ve been like that ever since your father\u2019s death. I cry for anything. Sit down, dear boy, you must be tired; I see you are. Ah, how muddy you are.\u201d \u201cI was in the rain yesterday, mother....\u201d Raskolnikov began. \u201cNo, no,\u201d Pulcheria Alexandrovna hurriedly interrupted, \u201cyou thought I was going to cross-question you in the womanish way I used to; don\u2019t be anxious, I understand, I understand it all: now I\u2019ve learned the ways here and truly I see for myself that they are better. I\u2019ve 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\u2019s not for me to keep nudging your elbow, asking you what you are thinking about? But, my goodness! why am I running to and","94":" There was a gleam of fire in his lustreless eyes; he seemed to be glad to think that he was still proud. \u201cYou don\u2019t think, sister, that I was simply afraid of the water?\u201d he asked, looking into her face with a sinister smile. \u201cOh, Rodya, hush!\u201d 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. \u201cIt\u2019s late, it\u2019s time to go! I am going at once to give myself up. But I don\u2019t know why I am going to give myself up.\u201d Big tears fell down her cheeks. \u201cYou are crying, sister, but can you hold out your hand to me?\u201d \u201cYou doubted it?\u201d She threw her arms round him. \u201cAren\u2019t you half expiating your crime by facing the suffering?\u201d she cried, holding him close and kissing him. \u201cCrime? What crime?\u201d he cried in sudden fury. \u201cThat 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? \u2018A crime! a crime!\u2019 Only now I see clearly the imbecility of my cowardice, now that I have decided to face this superfluous disgrace. It\u2019s simply because I am contemptible and have nothing in me that I have decided to, perhaps too for my advantage, as that... Porfiry... suggested!\u201d \u201cBrother, brother, what are you saying? Why, you have shed blood?\u201d cried Dounia in despair. \u201cWhich all men shed,\u201d he put in almost frantically, \u201cwhich flows and has always flowed in streams, which is spilt like champagne, and for which men are crowned in the","95":"... 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\u2019s 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\u2019m somehow forgetful.... You see I have come to warn you, Sonia, so that you might know... that\u2019s all--that\u2019s 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\u2019ll have your wish. Well, what are you crying for? You too? Don\u2019t. Leave off! Oh, how I hate it all!\u201d But his feeling was stirred; his heart ached, as he looked at her. \u201cWhy is she grieving too?\u201d he thought to himself. \u201cWhat am I to her? Why does she weep? Why is she looking after me, like my mother or Dounia? She\u2019ll be my nurse.\u201d \u201cCross yourself, say at least one prayer,\u201d Sonia begged in a timid broken voice. \u201cOh certainly, as much as you like! And sincerely, Sonia, sincerely....\u201d 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, \u201cthe family shawl.\u201d 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. \u201cWhat are you doing? Where are you going? Stay here, stay! I\u2019ll go alone,\u201d he cried in cowardly vexation, and almost resentful, he moved towards the door. \u201cWhat\u2019s the use of going in procession?\u201d he muttered going out. Sonia remained standing in the middle of the","96":" the hat covers, I can\u2019t buy that! I was even meaning to come and apologise to you, but thought maybe you\u2019d... But I am forgetting to ask you, is there anything you want really? I hear your family have come?\u201d \u201cYes, my mother and sister.\u201d \u201cI\u2019ve 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\u2019s arriving?\u201d \u201cNo, I only looked in... I came to ask... I thought that I should find Zametov here.\u201d \u201cOh, yes! Of course, you\u2019ve made friends, I heard. Well, no, Zametov is not here. Yes, we\u2019ve lost Zametov. He\u2019s not been here since yesterday... he quarrelled with everyone on leaving... in the rudest way. He is a feather-headed youngster, that\u2019s 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\u2019s only to talk and boast about it, it will go no further than that. Of course it\u2019s a very different matter with you or Mr. Razumihin there, your friend. Your career is an intellectual one and you won\u2019t 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\u2019s where your spirit soars! I am the same way myself.... Have you read Livingstone\u2019s Travels?\u201d \u201cNo.\u201d \u201cOh, I have. There are a great many Nihilists about nowadays, you know, and indeed it is not to be wondered at. What sort","97":", 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\u2019s 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\u2019s 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\u2019s 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\u2019s 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\u2019s questions about Raskolnikov and made up a complete story for her mother\u2019s 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","98":" 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 \u201cthe idiocy\u201d 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","99":" 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\u2019t 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"}