both ways nothing positive. So if no more facts come to light
(and they must not, they must not!) then … then what can
they do to him? How can they convict him, even if they ar-
rest him? And Porfiry then had only just heard about the
flat and had not known about it before.
‘Was it you who told Porfiry … that I’d been there?’ he
cried, struck by a sudden idea.
‘What Porfiry?’
‘The head of the detective department?’
‘Yes. The porters did not go there, but I went.’
‘To-day?’
‘I got there two minutes before you. And I heard, I heard
it all, how he worried you.’
‘Where? What? When?’
‘Why, in the next room. I was sitting there all the time.’
‘What? Why, then you were the surprise? But how could
it happen? Upon my word!’
‘I saw that the porters did not want to do what I said,’ be-
gan the man; ‘for it’s too late, said they, and maybe he’ll be
angry that we did not come at the time. I was vexed and I
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lost my sleep, and I began making inquiries. And finding
out yesterday where to go, I went to-day. The first time I
went he wasn’t there, when I came an hour later he couldn’t
see me. I went the third time, and they showed me in. I
informed him of everything, just as it happened, and he be-
gan skipping about the room and punching himself on the
chest. ‘What do you scoundrels mean by it? If I’d known
about it I should have arrested him!’ Then he ran out, called
somebody and began talking to him in the corner, then he
turned to me, scolding and questioning me. He scolded me
a great deal; and I told him everything, and I told him that
you didn’t dare to say a word in answer to me yesterday and
that you didn’t recognise me. And he fell to running about
again and kept hitting himself on the chest, and getting an-
gry and running about, and when you were announced he
told me to go into the next room. ‘Sit there a bit,’ he said.
‘Don’t move, whatever you may hear.’ And he set a chair
there for me and locked me in. ‘Perhaps,’ he said, ‘I may call
you.’ And when Nikolay’d been brought he let me out as
soon as you were gone. ‘I shall send for you again and ques-
tion you,’ he said.’
‘And did he question Nikolay while you were there?’
‘He got rid of me as he did of you, before he spoke to
Nikolay.’
The man stood still, and again suddenly bowed down,
touching the ground with his finger.
‘Forgive me for my evil thoughts, and my slander.’
‘May God forgive you,’ answered Raskolnikov.
And as he said this, the man bowed down again, but not
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to the ground, turned slowly and went out of the room.
‘It all cuts both ways, now it all cuts both ways,’ repeated
Raskolnikov, and he went out more confident than ever.
‘Now we’ll make a fight for it,’ he said, with a malicious
smile, as he went down the stairs. His malice was aimed at
himself; with shame and contempt he recollected his ‘cow-
ardice.’
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Part V
Crime and Punishment
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Chapter I
T
he morning that followed the fateful interview with
Dounia and her mother brought sobering influenc-
es 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 fan-
tastic 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 look-
ing-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, per-
haps, 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 stay-
ing. That smile Pyotr Petrovitch noticed, and at once set it
down against his young friend’s account. He had set down
a good many points against him of late. His anger was re-
doubled when he reflected that he ought not to have told
Andrey Semyonovitch about the result of yesterday’s inter-
view. That was the second mistake he had made in temper,
through impulsiveness and irritability…. Moreover, all that
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morning one unpleasantness followed another. He even
found a hitch awaiting him in his legal case in the senate.
He was particularly irritated by the owner of the flat which
had been taken in view of his approaching marriage and
was being redecorated at his own expense; the owner, a rich
German tradesman, would not entertain the idea of break-
ing the contract which had just been signed and insisted
on the full forfeit money, though Pyotr Petrovitch would
be giving him back the flat practically redecorated. In the
same way the upholsterers refused to return a single rouble
of the instalment paid for the furniture purchased but not
yet removed to the flat.
‘Am I to get married simply for the sake of the furniture?’
Pyotr Petrovitch ground his teeth and at the same time once
more he had a gleam of desperate hope. ‘Can all that be re-
ally so irrevocably over? Is it no use to make another effort?’
The thought of Dounia sent a voluptuous pang through his
heart. He endured anguish at that moment, and if it had
been possible to slay Raskolnikov instantly by wishing it,
Pyotr Petrovitch would promptly have uttered the wish.
‘It was my mistake, too, not to have given them money,’
he thought, as he returned dejectedly to Lebeziatnikov’s
room, ‘and why on earth was I such a Jew? It was false econ-
omy! I meant to keep them without a penny so that they
should turn to me as their providence, and look at them!
foo! If I’d spent some fifteen hundred roubles on them for
the trousseau and presents, on knick-knacks, dressing-cases,
jewellery, materials, and all that sort of trash from Knopp’s
and the English shop, my position would have been better
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10
and … stronger! They could not have refused me so easily!
They are the sort of people that would feel bound to return
money and presents if they broke it off; and they would find
it hard to do it! And their conscience would prick them:
how can we dismiss a man who has hitherto been so gener-
ous and delicate?…. H’m! I’ve made a blunder.’
And grinding his teeth again, Pyotr Petrovitch called
himself a fool— but not aloud, of course.
He returned home, twice as irritated and angry as before.
The preparations for the funeral dinner at Katerina Ivanov-
na’s excited his curiosity as he passed. He had heard about it
the day before; he fancied, indeed, that he had been invited,
but absorbed in his own cares he had paid no attention. In-
quiring of Madame Lippevechsel who was busy laying the
table while Katerina Ivanovna was away at the cemetery, he
heard that the entertainment was to be a great affair, that all
the lodgers had been invited, among them some who had
not known the dead man, that even Andrey Semyonovitch
Lebeziatnikov was invited in spite of his previous quarrel
with Katerina Ivanovna, that he, Pyotr Petrovitch, was not
only invited, but was eagerly expected as he was the most
important of the lodgers. Amalia Ivanovna herself had been
invited with great ceremony in spite of the recent unpleas-
antness, and so she was very busy with preparations and
was taking a positive pleasure in them; she was moreover
dressed up to the nines, all in new black silk, and she was
proud of it. All this suggested an idea to Pyotr Petrovitch
and he went into his room, or rather Lebeziatnikov’s, some-
what thoughtful. He had learnt that Raskolnikov was to be
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one of the guests.
Andrey Semyonovitch had been at home all the morn-
ing. The attitude of Pyotr Petrovitch to this gentleman was
strange, though perhaps natural. Pyotr Petrovitch had de-
spised and hated him from the day he came to stay with him
and at the same time he seemed somewhat afraid of him. He
had not come to stay with him on his arrival in Petersburg
simply from parsimony, though that had been perhaps his
chief object. He had heard of Andrey Semyonovitch, who
had once been his ward, as a leading young progressive who
was taking an important part in certain interesting circles,
the doings of which were a legend in the provinces. It had
impressed Pyotr Petrovitch. These powerful omniscient cir-
cles who despised everyone and showed everyone up had
long inspired in him a peculiar but quite vague alarm. He
had not, of course, been able to form even an approximate
notion of what they meant. He, like everyone, had heard
that there were, especially in Petersburg, progressives of
some sort, nihilists and so on, and, like many people, he ex-
aggerated and distorted the significance of those words to
an absurd degree. What for many years past he had feared
more than anything was being shown up and this was the
chief ground for his continual uneasiness at the thought of
transferring his business to Petersburg. He was afraid of
this as little children are sometimes panic-stricken. Some
years before, when he was just entering on his own career,
he had come upon two cases in which rather important
personages in the province, patrons of his, had been cruelly
shown up. One instance had ended in great scandal for the
Crime and Punishment
1
person attacked and the other had very nearly ended in se-
rious trouble. For this reason Pyotr Petrovitch intended to
go into the subject as soon as he reached Petersburg and, if
necessary, to anticipate contingencies by seeking the favour
of ‘our younger generation.’ He relied on Andrey Semyo-
novitch for this and before his visit to Raskolnikov he had
succeeded in picking up some current phrases. He soon
discovered that Andrey Semyonovitch was a commonplace
simpleton, but that by no means reassured Pyotr Petrovitch.
Even if he had been certain that all the progressives were
fools like him, it would not have allayed his uneasiness. All
the doctrines, the ideas, the systems, with which Andrey
Semyonovitch pestered him had no interest for him. He had
his own object—he simply wanted to find out at once what
was happening here. Had these people any power or not?
Had he anything to fear from them? Would they expose any
enterprise of his? And what precisely was now the object of
their attacks? Could he somehow make up to them and get
round them if they really were powerful? Was this the thing
to do or not? Couldn’t he gain something through them? In
fact hundreds of questions presented themselves.
Andrey Semyonovitch was an anæmic, scrofulous little
man, with strangely flaxen mutton-chop whiskers of which
he was very proud. He was a clerk and had almost always
something wrong with his eyes. He was rather soft-heart-
ed, but self-confident and sometimes extremely conceited
in speech, which had an absurd effect, incongruous with
his little figure. He was one of the lodgers most respected
by Amalia Ivanovna, for he did not get drunk and paid reg-
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ularly for his lodgings. Andrey Semyonovitch really was
rather stupid; he attached himself to the cause of progress
and ‘our younger generation’ from enthusiasm. He was one
of the numerous and varied legion of dullards, of half-an-
imate abortions, conceited, half-educated coxcombs, who
attach themselves to the idea most in fashion only to vul-
garise it and who caricature every cause they serve, however
sincerely.
Though Lebeziatnikov was so good-natured, he, too, was
beginning to dislike Pyotr Petrovitch. This happened on
both sides unconsciously. However simple Andrey Semyo-
novitch might be, he began to see that Pyotr Petrovitch was
duping him and secretly despising him, and that ‘he was
not the right sort of man.’ He had tried expounding to him
the system of Fourier and the Darwinian theory, but of late
Pyotr Petrovitch began to listen too sarcastically and even
to be rude. The fact was he had begun instinctively to guess
that Lebeziatnikov was not merely a commonplace simple-
ton, but, perhaps, a liar, too, and that he had no connections
of any consequence even in his own circle, but had simply
picked things up third-hand; and that very likely he did
not even know much about his own work of propaganda,
for he was in too great a muddle. A fine person he would
be to show anyone up! It must be noted, by the way, that
Pyotr Petrovitch had during those ten days eagerly accept-
ed the strangest praise from Andrey Semyonovitch; he had
not protested, for instance, when Andrey Semyonovitch
belauded him for being ready to contribute to the establish-
ment of the new ‘commune,’ or to abstain from christening
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his future children, or to acquiesce if Dounia were to take
a lover a month after marriage, and so on. Pyotr Petrovitch
so enjoyed hearing his own praises that he did not disdain
even such virtues when they were attributed to him.
Pyotr Petrovitch had had occasion that morning to re-
alise some five- per-cent bonds and now he sat down to the
table and counted over bundles of notes. Andrey Semyo-
novitch who hardly ever had any money walked about the
room pretending to himself to look at all those bank notes
with indifference and even contempt. Nothing would have
convinced Pyotr Petrovitch that Andrey Semyonovitch
could really look on the money unmoved, and the latter, on
his side, kept thinking bitterly that Pyotr Petrovitch was
capable of entertaining such an idea about him and was,
perhaps, glad of the opportunity of teasing his young friend
by reminding him of his inferiority and the great difference
between them.
He found him incredibly inattentive and irritable, though
he, Andrey Semyonovitch, began enlarging on his favourite
subject, the foundation of a new special ‘commune.’ The
brief remarks that dropped from Pyotr Petrovitch between
the clicking of the beads on the reckoning frame betrayed
unmistakable and discourteous irony. But the ‘humane’
Andrey Semyonovitch ascribed Pyotr Petrovitch’s ill-hu-
mour to his recent breach with Dounia and he was burning
with impatience to discourse on that theme. He had some-
thing progressive to say on the subject which might console
his worthy friend and ‘could not fail’ to promote his devel-
opment.
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‘There is some sort of festivity being prepared at that …
at the widow’s, isn’t there?’ Pyotr Petrovitch asked suddenly,
interrupting Andrey Semyonovitch at the most interesting
passage.
‘Why, don’t you know? Why, I was telling you last night
what I think about all such ceremonies. And she invited you
too, I heard. You were talking to her yesterday …’
‘I should never have expected that beggarly fool would
have spent on this feast all the money she got from that
other fool, Raskolnikov. I was surprised just now as I came
through at the preparations there, the wines! Several people
are invited. It’s beyond everything!’ continued Pyotr Petro-
vitch, who seemed to have some object in pursuing the
conversation. ‘What? You say I am asked too? When was
that? I don’t remember. But I shan’t go. Why should I? I only
said a word to her in passing yesterday of the possibility of
her obtaining a year’s salary as a destitute widow of a gov-
ernment clerk. I suppose she has invited me on that account,
hasn’t she? He-he-he!’
‘I don’t intend to go either,’ said Lebeziatnikov.
‘I should think not, after giving her a thrashing! You
might well hesitate, he-he!’
‘Who thrashed? Whom?’ cried Lebeziatnikov, flustered
and blushing.
‘Why, you thrashed Katerina Ivanovna a month ago.
I heard so yesterday … so that’s what your convictions
amount to … and the woman question, too, wasn’t quite
sound, he-he-he!’ and Pyotr Petrovitch, as though comfort-
ed, went back to clicking his beads.
Crime and Punishment
1
‘It’s all slander and nonsense!’ cried Lebeziatnikov, who
was always afraid of allusions to the subject. ‘It was not like
that at all, it was quite different. You’ve heard it wrong; it’s a
libel. I was simply defending myself. She rushed at me first
with her nails, she pulled out all my whiskers…. It’s per-
missable for anyone, I should hope, to defend himself and
I never allow anyone to use violence to me on principle, for
it’s an act of despotism. What was I to do? I simply pushed
her back.’
‘He-he-he!’ Luzhin went on laughing maliciously.
‘You keep on like that because you are out of humour
yourself…. But that’s nonsense and it has nothing, nothing
whatever to do with the woman question! You don’t under-
stand; I used to think, indeed, that if women are equal to
men in all respects, even in strength (as is maintained now)
there ought to be equality in that, too. Of course, I reflect-
ed afterwards that such a question ought not really to arise,
for there ought not to be fighting and in the future soci-
ety fighting is unthinkable … and that it would be a queer
thing to seek for equality in fighting. I am not so stupid …
though, of course, there is fighting … there won’t be later,
but at present there is … confound it! How muddled one
gets with you! It’s not on that account that I am not going.
I am not going on principle, not to take part in the revolt-
ing convention of memorial dinners, that’s why! Though, of
course, one might go to laugh at it…. I am sorry there won’t
be any priests at it. I should certainly go if there were.’
‘Then you would sit down at another man’s table and in-
sult it and those who invited you. Eh?’
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‘Certainly not insult, but protest. I should do it with a
good object. I might indirectly assist the cause of enlight-
enment and propaganda. It’s a duty of every man to work
for enlightenment and propaganda and the more harshly,
perhaps, the better. I might drop a seed, an idea…. And
something might grow up from that seed. How should
I be insulting them? They might be offended at first, but
afterwards they’d see I’d done them a service. You know,
Terebyeva (who is in the community now) was blamed be-
cause when she left her family and … devoted … herself,
she wrote to her father and mother that she wouldn’t go on
living conventionally and was entering on a free marriage
and it was said that that was too harsh, that she might have
spared them and have written more kindly. I think that’s
all nonsense and there’s no need of softness; on the con-
trary, what’s wanted is protest. Varents had been married
seven years, she abandoned her two children, she told her
husband straight out in a letter: ‘I have realised that I can-
not be happy with you. I can never forgive you that you
have deceived me by concealing from me that there is an-
other organisation of society by means of the communities.
I have only lately learned it from a great-hearted man to
whom I have given myself and with whom I am establishing
a community. I speak plainly because I consider it dishon-
est to deceive you. Do as you think best. Do not hope to get
me back, you are too late. I hope you will be happy.’ That’s
how letters like that ought to be written!’
‘Is that Terebyeva the one you said had made a third free
marriage?’
Crime and Punishment
1
‘No, it’s only the second, really! But what if it were the
fourth, what if it were the fifteenth, that’s all nonsense!
And if ever I regretted the death of my father and mother,
it is now, and I sometimes think if my parents were living
what a protest I would have aimed at them! I would have
done something on purpose … I would have shown them!
I would have astonished them! I am really sorry there is no
one!’
‘To surprise! He-he! Well, be that as you will,’ Pyotr
Petrovitch interrupted, ‘but tell me this; do you know the
dead man’s daughter, the delicate-looking little thing? It’s
true what they say about her, isn’t it?’
‘What of it? I think, that is, it is my own personal convic-
tion that this is the normal condition of women. Why not? I
mean, distinguons. In our present society it is not altogether
normal, because it is compulsory, but in the future society it
will be perfectly normal, because it will be voluntary. Even
as it is, she was quite right: she was suffering and that was
her asset, so to speak, her capital which she had a perfect
right to dispose of. Of course, in the future society there
will be no need of assets, but her part will have another sig-
nificance, rational and in harmony with her environment.
As to Sofya Semyonovna personally, I regard her action as
a vigorous protest against the organisation of society, and
I respect her deeply for it; I rejoice indeed when I look at
her!’
‘I was told that you got her turned out of these lodgings.’
Lebeziatnikov was enraged.
‘That’s another slander,’ he yelled. ‘It was not so at all!
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That was all Katerina Ivanovna’s invention, for she did not
understand! And I never made love to Sofya Semyonovna!
I was simply developing her, entirely disinterestedly, trying
to rouse her to protest…. All I wanted was her protest and
Sofya Semyonovna could not have remained here anyway!’
‘Have you asked her to join your community?’
‘You keep on laughing and very inappropriately, allow me
to tell you. You don’t understand! There is no such rôle in a
community. The community is established that there should
be no such rôles. In a community, such a rôle is essentially
transformed and what is stupid here is sensible there, what,
under present conditions, is unnatural becomes perfectly
natural in the community. It all depends on the environ-
ment. It’s all the environment and man himself is nothing.
And I am on good terms with Sofya Semyonovna to this
day, which is a proof that she never regarded me as having
wronged her. I am trying now to attract her to the commu-
nity, but on quite, quite a different footing. What are you
laughing at? We are trying to establish a community of our
own, a special one, on a broader basis. We have gone fur-
ther in our convictions. We reject more! And meanwhile
I’m still developing Sofya Semyonovna. She has a beautiful,
beautiful character!’
‘And you take advantage of her fine character, eh? He-
he!’
‘No, no! Oh, no! On the contrary.’
‘Oh, on the contrary! He-he-he! A queer thing to say!’
‘Believe me! Why should I disguise it? In fact, I feel it
strange myself how timid, chaste and modern she is with
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0
me!’
‘And you, of course, are developing her … he-he! trying
to prove to her that all that modesty is nonsense?’
‘Not at all, not at all! How coarsely, how stupidly—excuse
me saying so—you misunderstand the word development!
Good heavens, how … crude you still are! We are striving
for the freedom of women and you have only one idea in
your head…. Setting aside the general question of chastity
and feminine modesty as useless in themselves and indeed
prejudices, I fully accept her chastity with me, because
that’s for her to decide. Of course if she were to tell me her-
self that she wanted me, I should think myself very lucky,
because I like the girl very much; but as it is, no one has ever
treated her more courteously than I, with more respect for
her dignity … I wait in hopes, that’s all!’
‘You had much better make her a present of something. I
bet you never thought of that.’
‘You don’t understand, as I’ve told you already! Of course,
she is in such a position, but it’s another question. Quite an-
other question! You simply despise her. Seeing a fact which
you mistakenly consider deserving of contempt, you re-
fuse to take a humane view of a fellow creature. You don’t
know what a character she is! I am only sorry that of late
she has quite given up reading and borrowing books. I used
to lend them to her. I am sorry, too, that with all the en-
ergy and resolution in protesting—which she has already
shown once—she has little self-reliance, little, so to say, in-
dependence, so as to break free from certain prejudices and
certain foolish ideas. Yet she thoroughly understands some
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questions, for instance about kissing of hands, that is, that
it’s an insult to a woman for a man to kiss her hand, be-
cause it’s a sign of inequality. We had a debate about it and
I described it to her. She listened attentively to an account
of the workmen’s associations in France, too. Now I am ex-
plaining the question of coming into the room in the future
society.’
‘And what’s that, pray?’
‘We had a debate lately on the question: Has a member of
the community the right to enter another member’s room,
whether man or woman, at any time … and we decided that
he has!’
‘It might be at an inconvenient moment, he-he!’
Lebeziatnikov was really angry.
‘You are always thinking of something unpleasant,’ he
cried with aversion. ‘Tfoo! How vexed I am that when I was
expounding our system, I referred prematurely to the ques-
tion of personal privacy! It’s always a stumbling-block to
people like you, they turn it into ridicule before they under-
stand it. And how proud they are of it, too! Tfoo! I’ve often
maintained that that question should not be approached by
a novice till he has a firm faith in the system. And tell me,
please, what do you find so shameful even in cesspools? I
should be the first to be ready to clean out any cesspool you
like. And it’s not a question of self-sacrifice, it’s simply work,
honourable, useful work which is as good as any other and
much better than the work of a Raphael and a Pushkin, be-
cause it is more useful.’
‘And more honourable, more honourable, he-he-he!’
Crime and Punishment
‘What do you mean by ‘more honourable’? I don’t under-
stand such expressions to describe human activity. ‘More
honourable,’ ‘nobler’— all those are old-fashioned prejudic-
es which I reject. Everything which is of use to mankind is
honourable. I only understand one word: useful! You can
snigger as much as you like, but that’s so!’
Pyotr Petrovitch laughed heartily. He had finished
counting the money and was putting it away. But some of
the notes he left on the table. The ‘cesspool question’ had
already been a subject of dispute between them. What was
absurd was that it made Lebeziatnikov really angry, while it
amused Luzhin and at that moment he particularly wanted
to anger his young friend.
‘It’s your ill-luck yesterday that makes you so ill-hu-
moured and annoying,’ blurted out Lebeziatnikov, who in
spite of his ‘independence’ and his ‘protests’ did not venture
to oppose Pyotr Petrovitch and still behaved to him with
some of the respect habitual in earlier years.
‘You’d better tell me this,’ Pyotr Petrovitch interrupted
with haughty displeasure, ‘can you … or rather are you re-
ally friendly enough with that young person to ask her to
step in here for a minute? I think they’ve all come back from
the cemetery … I heard the sound of steps … I want to see
her, that young person.’
‘What for?’ Lebeziatnikov asked with surprise.
‘Oh, I want to. I am leaving here to-day or to-morrow
and therefore I wanted to speak to her about … However,
you may be present during the interview. It’s better you
should be, indeed. For there’s no knowing what you might
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imagine.’
‘I shan’t imagine anything. I only asked and, if you’ve
anything to say to her, nothing is easier than to call her in.
I’ll go directly and you may be sure I won’t be in your way.’
Five minutes later Lebeziatnikov came in with Sonia.
She came in very much surprised and overcome with shy-
ness as usual. She was always shy in such circumstances and
was always afraid of new people, she had been as a child
and was even more so now…. Pyotr Petrovitch met her
‘politely and affably,’ but with a certain shade of bantering
familiarity which in his opinion was suitable for a man of
his respectability and weight in dealing with a creature so
young and so interesting as she. He hastened to ‘reassure’
her and made her sit down facing him at the table. Sonia
sat down, looked about her—at Lebeziatnikov, at the notes
lying on the table and then again at Pyotr Petrovitch and
her eyes remained riveted on him. Lebeziatnikov was mov-
ing to the door. Pyotr Petrovitch signed to Sonia to remain
seated and stopped Lebeziatnikov.
‘Is Raskolnikov in there? Has he come?’ he asked him in
a whisper.
‘Raskolnikov? Yes. Why? Yes, he is there. I saw him just
come in…. Why?’
‘Well, I particularly beg you to remain here with us and
not to leave me alone with this … young woman. I only want
a few words with her, but God knows what they may make
of it. I shouldn’t like Raskolnikov to repeat anything…. You
understand what I mean?’
‘I understand!’ Lebeziatnikov saw the point. ‘Yes, you are
Crime and Punishment
right…. Of course, I am convinced personally that you have
no reason to be uneasy, but … still, you are right. Certainly
I’ll stay. I’ll stand here at the window and not be in your way
… I think you are right …’
Pyotr Petrovitch returned to the sofa, sat down opposite
Sonia, looked attentively at her and assumed an extremely
dignified, even severe expression, as much as to say, ‘don’t
you make any mistake, madam.’ Sonia was overwhelmed
with embarrassment.
‘In the first place, Sofya Semyonovna, will you make my
excuses to your respected mamma…. That’s right, isn’t it?
Katerina Ivanovna stands in the place of a mother to you?’
Pyotr Petrovitch began with great dignity, though affably.
It was evident that his intentions were friendly.
‘Quite so, yes; the place of a mother,’ Sonia answered,
timidly and hurriedly.
‘Then will you make my apologies to her? Through inevi-
table circumstances I am forced to be absent and shall not
be at the dinner in spite of your mamma’s kind invitation.’
‘Yes … I’ll tell her … at once.’
And Sonia hastily jumped up from her seat.
‘Wait, that’s not all,’ Pyotr Petrovitch detained her, smil-
ing at her simplicity and ignorance of good manners, ‘and
you know me little, my dear Sofya Semyonovna, if you sup-
pose I would have ventured to trouble a person like you for a
matter of so little consequence affecting myself only. I have
another object.’
Sonia sat down hurriedly. Her eyes rested again for an
instant on the grey-and-rainbow-coloured notes that re-
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mained on the table, but she quickly looked away and fixed
her eyes on Pyotr Petrovitch. She felt it horribly indecorous,
especially for her to look at another person’s money. She
stared at the gold eye-glass which Pyotr Petrovitch held in
his left hand and at the massive and extremely handsome
ring with a yellow stone on his middle finger. But suddenly
she looked away and, not knowing where to turn, ended by
staring Pyotr Petrovitch again straight in the face. After a
pause of still greater dignity he continued.
‘I chanced yesterday in passing to exchange a couple
of words with Katerina Ivanovna, poor woman. That was
sufficient to enable me to ascertain that she is in a position—
preternatural, if one may so express it.’
‘Yes … preternatural …’ Sonia hurriedly assented.
‘Or it would be simpler and more comprehensible to say,
ill.’
‘Yes, simpler and more comprehen … yes, ill.’
‘Quite so. So then from a feeling of humanity and so to
speak compassion, I should be glad to be of service to her in
any way, foreseeing her unfortunate position. I believe the
whole of this poverty-stricken family depends now entirely
on you?’
‘Allow me to ask,’ Sonia rose to her feet, ‘did you say
something to her yesterday of the possibility of a pension?
Because she told me you had undertaken to get her one.
Was that true?’
‘Not in the slightest, and indeed it’s an absurdity! I merely
hinted at her obtaining temporary assistance as the widow
of an official who had died in the service—if only she has
Crime and Punishment
patronage … but apparently your late parent had not served
his full term and had not indeed been in the service at all
of late. In fact, if there could be any hope, it would be very
ephemeral, because there would be no claim for assistance
in that case, far from it…. And she is dreaming of a pension
already, he-he-he! … A go-ahead lady!’
‘Yes, she is. For she is credulous and good-hearted, and
she believes everything from the goodness of her heart and
… and … and she is like that … yes … You must excuse her,’
said Sonia, and again she got up to go.
‘But you haven’t heard what I have to say.’
‘No, I haven’t heard,’ muttered Sonia.
‘Then sit down.’ She was terribly confused; she sat down
again a third time.
‘Seeing her position with her unfortunate little ones, I
should be glad, as I have said before, so far as lies in my
power, to be of service, that is, so far as is in my power, not
more. One might for instance get up a subscription for her,
or a lottery, something of the sort, such as is always ar-
ranged in such cases by friends or even outsiders desirous
of assisting people. It was of that I intended to speak to you;
it might be done.’
‘Yes, yes … God will repay you for it,’ faltered Sonia, gaz-
ing intently at Pyotr Petrovitch.
‘It might be, but we will talk of it later. We might be-
gin it to-day, we will talk it over this evening and lay the
foundation so to speak. Come to me at seven o’clock. Mr.
Lebeziatnikov, I hope, will assist us. But there is one cir-
cumstance of which I ought to warn you beforehand and for
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which I venture to trouble you, Sofya Semyonovna, to come
here. In my opinion money cannot be, indeed it’s unsafe
to put it into Katerina Ivanovna’s own hands. The dinner
to-day is a proof of that. Though she has not, so to speak,
a crust of bread for to-morrow and … well, boots or shoes,
or anything; she has bought to-day Jamaica rum, and even,
I believe, Madeira and … and coffee. I saw it as I passed
through. To-morrow it will all fall upon you again, they
won’t have a crust of bread. It’s absurd, really, and so, to my
thinking, a subscription ought to be raised so that the un-
happy widow should not know of the money, but only you,
for instance. Am I right?’
‘I don’t know … this is only to-day, once in her life…. She
was so anxious to do honour, to celebrate the memory….
And she is very sensible … but just as you think and I shall
be very, very … they will all be … and God will reward …
and the orphans …’
Sonia burst into tears.
‘Very well, then, keep it in mind; and now will you ac-
cept for the benefit of your relation the small sum that I am
able to spare, from me personally. I am very anxious that
my name should not be mentioned in connection with it.
Here … having so to speak anxieties of my own, I cannot
do more …’
And Pyotr Petrovitch held out to Sonia a ten-rouble note
carefully unfolded. Sonia took it, flushed crimson, jumped
up, muttered something and began taking leave. Pyotr
Petrovitch accompanied her ceremoniously to the door.
She got out of the room at last, agitated and distressed, and
Crime and Punishment
returned to Katerina Ivanovna, overwhelmed with confu-
sion.
All this time Lebeziatnikov had stood at the window or
walked about the room, anxious not to interrupt the con-
versation; when Sonia had gone he walked up to Pyotr
Petrovitch and solemnly held out his hand.
‘I heard and saw everything,’ he said, laying stress on the
last verb. ‘That is honourable, I mean to say, it’s humane!
You wanted to avoid gratitude, I saw! And although I can-
not, I confess, in principle sympathise with private charity,
for it not only fails to eradicate the evil but even promotes it,
yet I must admit that I saw your action with pleasure—yes,
yes, I like it.’
‘That’s all nonsense,’ muttered Pyotr Petrovitch, some-
what disconcerted, looking carefully at Lebeziatnikov.
‘No, it’s not nonsense! A man who has suffered dis-
tress and annoyance as you did yesterday and who yet can
sympathise with the misery of others, such a man … even
though he is making a social mistake—is still deserving of
respect! I did not expect it indeed of you, Pyotr Petrovitch,
especially as according to your ideas … oh, what a drawback
your ideas are to you! How distressed you are for instance
by your ill-luck yesterday,’ cried the simple-hearted Lebezi-
atnikov, who felt a return of affection for Pyotr Petrovitch.
‘And, what do you want with marriage, with legal marriage,
my dear, noble Pyotr Petrovitch? Why do you cling to this
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