seems to be kind, as Dounia herself observes. That seems
beats everything! And that very Dounia for that very ‘seems’
is marrying him! Splendid! splendid!
‘… But I should like to know why mother has written to
me about ‘our most rising generation’? Simply as a descrip-
tive touch, or with the idea of prepossessing me in favour
of Mr. Luzhin? Oh, the cunning of them! I should like to
know one thing more: how far they were open with one an-
other that day and night and all this time since? Was it all
put into words or did both understand that they had the
same thing at heart and in their minds, so that there was
no need to speak of it aloud, and better not to speak of it.
Most likely it was partly like that, from mother’s letter it’s
evident: he struck her as rude a little and mother in her sim-
plicity took her observations to Dounia. And she was sure
to be vexed and ‘answered her angrily.’ I should think so!
Who would not be angered when it was quite clear without
any naïve questions and when it was understood that it was
useless to discuss it. And why does she write to me, ‘love
Dounia, Rodya, and she loves you more than herself’? Has
she a secret conscience-prick at sacrificing her daughter to
her son? ‘You are our one comfort, you are everything to
us.’ Oh, mother!’
His bitterness grew more and more intense, and if he
had happened to meet Mr. Luzhin at the moment, he might
have murdered him.
‘Hm … yes, that’s true,’ he continued, pursuing the
whirling ideas that chased each other in his brain, ‘it is
true that ‘it needs time and care to get to know a man,’ but
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there is no mistake about Mr. Luzhin. The chief thing is
he is ‘a man of business and seems kind,’ that was some-
thing, wasn’t it, to send the bags and big box for them! A
kind man, no doubt after that! But his bride and her moth-
er are to drive in a peasant’s cart covered with sacking (I
know, I have been driven in it). No matter! It is only nine-
ty versts and then they can ‘travel very comfortably, third
class,’ for a thousand versts! Quite right, too. One must cut
one’s coat according to one’s cloth, but what about you, Mr.
Luzhin? She is your bride…. And you must be aware that
her mother has to raise money on her pension for the jour-
ney. To be sure it’s a matter of business, a partnership for
mutual benefit, with equal shares and expenses;—food and
drink provided, but pay for your tobacco. The business man
has got the better of them, too. The luggage will cost less
than their fares and very likely go for nothing. How is it that
they don’t both see all that, or is it that they don’t want to
see? And they are pleased, pleased! And to think that this
is only the first blossoming, and that the real fruits are to
come! But what really matters is not the stinginess, is not
the meanness, but the tone of the whole thing. For that will
be the tone after marriage, it’s a foretaste of it. And mother
too, why should she be so lavish? What will she have by the
time she gets to Petersburg? Three silver roubles or two ‘pa-
per ones’ as she says…. that old woman … hm. What does
she expect to live upon in Petersburg afterwards? She has
her reasons already for guessing that she could not live with
Dounia after the marriage, even for the first few months.
The good man has no doubt let slip something on that sub-
Crime and Punishment
ject also, though mother would deny it: ‘I shall refuse,’ says
she. On whom is she reckoning then? Is she counting on
what is left of her hundred and twenty roubles of pension
when Afanasy Ivanovitch’s debt is paid? She knits woollen
shawls and embroiders cuffs, ruining her old eyes. And all
her shawls don’t add more than twenty roubles a year to
her hundred and twenty, I know that. So she is building all
her hopes all the time on Mr. Luzhin’s generosity; ‘he will
offer it of himself, he will press it on me.’ You may wait a
long time for that! That’s how it always is with these Schil-
leresque noble hearts; till the last moment every goose is
a swan with them, till the last moment, they hope for the
best and will see nothing wrong, and although they have an
inkling of the other side of the picture, yet they won’t face
the truth till they are forced to; the very thought of it makes
them shiver; they thrust the truth away with both hands,
until the man they deck out in false colours puts a fool’s cap
on them with his own hands. I should like to know whether
Mr. Luzhin has any orders of merit; I bet he has the Anna in
his buttonhole and that he puts it on when he goes to dine
with contractors or merchants. He will be sure to have it for
his wedding, too! Enough of him, confound him!
‘Well, … mother I don’t wonder at, it’s like her, God bless
her, but how could Dounia? Dounia darling, as though I
did not know you! You were nearly twenty when I saw you
last: I understood you then. Mother writes that ‘Dounia
can put up with a great deal.’ I know that very well. I knew
that two years and a half ago, and for the last two and a
half years I have been thinking about it, thinking of just
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that, that ‘Dounia can put up with a great deal.’ If she could
put up with Mr. Svidrigaïlov and all the rest of it, she cer-
tainly can put up with a great deal. And now mother and
she have taken it into their heads that she can put up with
Mr. Luzhin, who propounds the theory of the superiority
of wives raised from destitution and owing everything to
their husband’s bounty—who propounds it, too, almost at
the first interview. Granted that he ‘let it slip,’ though he
is a sensible man, (yet maybe it was not a slip at all, but he
meant to make himself clear as soon as possible) but Dou-
nia, Dounia? She understands the man, of course, but she
will have to live with the man. Why! she’d live on black
bread and water, she would not sell her soul, she would not
barter her moral freedom for comfort; she would not barter
it for all Schleswig-Holstein, much less Mr. Luzhin’s money.
No, Dounia was not that sort when I knew her and … she is
still the same, of course! Yes, there’s no denying, the Svid-
rigaïlovs are a bitter pill! It’s a bitter thing to spend one’s life
a governess in the provinces for two hundred roubles, but I
know she would rather be a nigger on a plantation or a Lett
with a German master than degrade her soul, and her mor-
al dignity, by binding herself for ever to a man whom she
does not respect and with whom she has nothing in com-
mon—for her own advantage. And if Mr. Luzhin had been
of unalloyed gold, or one huge diamond, she would never
have consented to become his legal concubine. Why is she
consenting then? What’s the point of it? What’s the answer?
It’s clear enough: for herself, for her comfort, to save her life
she would not sell herself, but for someone else she is doing
Crime and Punishment
it! For one she loves, for one she adores, she will sell herself!
That’s what it all amounts to; for her brother, for her mother,
she will sell herself! She will sell everything! In such cases,
‘we overcome our moral feeling if necessary,’ freedom, peace,
conscience even, all, all are brought into the market. Let my
life go, if only my dear ones may be happy! More than that,
we become casuists, we learn to be Jesuitical and for a time
maybe we can soothe ourselves, we can persuade ourselves
that it is one’s duty for a good object. That’s just like us, it’s
as clear as daylight. It’s clear that Rodion Romanovitch Ras-
kolnikov is the central figure in the business, and no one
else. Oh, yes, she can ensure his happiness, keep him in the
university, make him a partner in the office, make his whole
future secure; perhaps he may even be a rich man later on,
prosperous, respected, and may even end his life a famous
man! But my mother? It’s all Rodya, precious Rodya, her
first born! For such a son who would not sacrifice such a
daughter! Oh, loving, over-partial hearts! Why, for his sake
we would not shrink even from Sonia’s fate. Sonia, Sonia
Marmeladov, the eternal victim so long as the world lasts.
Have you taken the measure of your sacrifice, both of you?
Is it right? Can you bear it? Is it any use? Is there sense in it?
And let me tell you, Dounia, Sonia’s life is no worse than life
with Mr. Luzhin. ‘There can be no question of love,’ mother
writes. And what if there can be no respect either, if on the
contrary there is aversion, contempt, repulsion, what then?
So you will have to ‘keep up your appearance,’ too. Is not
that so? Do you understand what that smartness means? Do
you understand that the Luzhin smartness is just the same
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thing as Sonia’s and may be worse, viler, baser, because in
your case, Dounia, it’s a bargain for luxuries, after all, but
with Sonia it’s simply a question of starvation. It has to be
paid for, it has to be paid for, Dounia, this smartness. And
what if it’s more than you can bear afterwards, if you regret
it? The bitterness, the misery, the curses, the tears hidden
from all the world, for you are not a Marfa Petrovna. And
how will your mother feel then? Even now she is uneasy,
she is worried, but then, when she sees it all clearly? And I?
Yes, indeed, what have you taken me for? I won’t have your
sacrifice, Dounia, I won’t have it, mother! It shall not be, so
long as I am alive, it shall not, it shall not! I won’t accept it!’
He suddenly paused in his reflection and stood still.
‘It shall not be? But what are you going to do to prevent
it? You’ll forbid it? And what right have you? What can you
promise them on your side to give you such a right? Your
whole life, your whole future, you will devote to them when
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