your girl Sofya Semyonovna, your betrothed or your mis-
tress, I don’t know. I went at once to Sofya Semyonovna’s,
for I wanted to know what was going on. I looked round, I
saw the coffin, the children crying, and Sofya Semyonovna
trying them on mourning dresses. No sign of you. I apol-
ogised, came away, and reported to Avdotya Romanovna.
So that’s all nonsense and you haven’t got a girl; the most
likely thing is that you are mad. But here you sit, guzzling
boiled beef as though you’d not had a bite for three days.
Though as far as that goes, madmen eat too, but though you
have not said a word to me yet … you are not mad! That I’d
swear! Above all, you are not mad! So you may go to hell, all
of you, for there’s some mystery, some secret about it, and
I don’t intend to worry my brains over your secrets. So I’ve
simply come to swear at you,’ he finished, getting up, ‘to re-
lieve my mind. And I know what to do now.’
‘What do you mean to do now?’
‘What business is it of yours what I mean to do?’
‘You are going in for a drinking bout.’
‘How … how did you know?’
‘Why, it’s pretty plain.’
Razumihin paused for a minute.
‘You always have been a very rational person and you’ve
never been mad, never,’ he observed suddenly with warmth.
‘You’re right: I shall drink. Good-bye!’
And he moved to go out.
‘I was talking with my sister—the day before yesterday, I
think it was—about you, Razumihin.’
Crime and Punishment
0
‘About me! But … where can you have seen her the day
before yesterday?’ Razumihin stopped short and even
turned a little pale.
One could see that his heart was throbbing slowly and
violently.
‘She came here by herself, sat there and talked to me.’
‘She did!’
‘Yes.’
‘What did you say to her … I mean, about me?’
‘I told her you were a very good, honest, and industrious
man. I didn’t tell her you love her, because she knows that
herself.’
‘She knows that herself?’
‘Well, it’s pretty plain. Wherever I might go, whatever
happened to me, you would remain to look after them. I,
so to speak, give them into your keeping, Razumihin. I say
this because I know quite well how you love her, and am
convinced of the purity of your heart. I know that she too
may love you and perhaps does love you already. Now de-
cide for yourself, as you know best, whether you need go in
for a drinking bout or not.’
‘Rodya! You see … well…. Ach, damn it! But where do
you mean to go? Of course, if it’s all a secret, never mind….
But I … I shall find out the secret … and I am sure that it
must be some ridiculous nonsense and that you’ve made it
all up. Anyway you are a capital fellow, a capital fellow! …’
‘That was just what I wanted to add, only you interrupted,
that that was a very good decision of yours not to find out
these secrets. Leave it to time, don’t worry about it. You’ll
1
Free eBooks at
Planet eBook.com
know it all in time when it must be. Yesterday a man said
to me that what a man needs is fresh air, fresh air, fresh air.
I mean to go to him directly to find out what he meant by
that.’
Razumihin stood lost in thought and excitement, mak-
ing a silent conclusion.
‘He’s a political conspirator! He must be. And he’s on
the eve of some desperate step, that’s certain. It can only be
that! And … and Dounia knows,’ he thought suddenly.
‘So Avdotya Romanovna comes to see you,’ he said,
weighing each syllable, ‘and you’re going to see a man who
says we need more air, and so of course that letter … that
too must have something to do with it,’ he concluded to
himself.
‘What letter?’
‘She got a letter to-day. It upset her very much—very
much indeed. Too much so. I began speaking of you, she
begged me not to. Then … then she said that perhaps we
should very soon have to part … then she began warmly
thanking me for something; then she went to her room and
locked herself in.’
‘She got a letter?’ Raskolnikov asked thoughtfully.
‘Yes, and you didn’t know? hm …’
They were both silent.
‘Good-bye, Rodion. There was a time, brother, when I….
Never mind, good-bye. You see, there was a time…. Well,
good-bye! I must be off too. I am not going to drink. There’s
no need now…. That’s all stuff!’
He hurried out; but when he had almost closed the door
Crime and Punishment
behind him, he suddenly opened it again, and said, look-
ing away:
‘Oh, by the way, do you remember that murder, you know
Porfiry’s, that old woman? Do you know the murderer has
been found, he has confessed and given the proofs. It’s one
of those very workmen, the painter, only fancy! Do you re-
member I defended them here? Would you believe it, all
that scene of fighting and laughing with his companions on
the stairs while the porter and the two witnesses were going
up, he got up on purpose to disarm suspicion. The cunning,
the presence of mind of the young dog! One can hardly
credit it; but it’s his own explanation, he has confessed it all.
And what a fool I was about it! Well, he’s simply a genius
of hypocrisy and resourcefulness in disarming the suspi-
cions of the lawyers—so there’s nothing much to wonder
at, I suppose! Of course people like that are always possible.
And the fact that he couldn’t keep up the character, but con-
fessed, makes him easier to believe in. But what a fool I was!
I was frantic on their side!’
‘Tell me, please, from whom did you hear that, and why
does it interest you so?’ Raskolnikov asked with unmistak-
able agitation.
‘What next? You ask me why it interests me! … Well, I
heard it from Porfiry, among others … It was from him I
heard almost all about it.’
‘From Porfiry?’
‘From Porfiry.’
‘What … what did he say?’ Raskolnikov asked in dismay.
‘He gave me a capital explanation of it. Psychologically,
Free eBooks at
Planet eBook.com
after his fashion.’
‘He explained it? Explained it himself?’
‘Yes, yes; good-bye. I’ll tell you all about it another time,
but now I’m busy. There was a time when I fancied … But
no matter, another time! … What need is there for me to
drink now? You have made me drunk without wine. I am
drunk, Rodya! Good-bye, I’m going. I’ll come again very
soon.’
He went out.
‘He’s a political conspirator, there’s not a doubt about
it,’ Razumihin decided, as he slowly descended the stairs.
‘And he’s drawn his sister in; that’s quite, quite in keeping
with Avdotya Romanovna’s character. There are interviews
between them! … She hinted at it too … So many of her
words…. and hints … bear that meaning! And how else can
all this tangle be explained? Hm! And I was almost think-
ing … Good heavens, what I thought! Yes, I took leave of my
senses and I wronged him! It was his doing, under the lamp
in the corridor that day. Pfoo! What a crude, nasty, vile idea
on my part! Nikolay is a brick, for confessing…. And how
clear it all is now! His illness then, all his strange actions
… before this, in the university, how morose he used to be,
how gloomy…. But what’s the meaning now of that letter?
There’s something in that, too, perhaps. Whom was it from?
I suspect …! No, I must find out!’
He thought of Dounia, realising all he had heard and his
heart throbbed, and he suddenly broke into a run.
As soon as Razumihin went out, Raskolnikov got up,
turned to the window, walked into one corner and then into
Crime and Punishment
another, as though forgetting the smallness of his room, and
sat down again on the sofa. He felt, so to speak, renewed;
again the struggle, so a means of escape had come.
‘Yes, a means of escape had come! It had been too sti-
fling, too cramping, the burden had been too agonising. A
lethargy had come upon him at times. From the moment of
the scene with Nikolay at Porfiry’s he had been suffocating,
penned in without hope of escape. After Nikolay’s confes-
sion, on that very day had come the scene with Sonia; his
behaviour and his last words had been utterly unlike any-
thing he could have imagined beforehand; he had grown
feebler, instantly and fundamentally! And he had agreed at
the time with Sonia, he had agreed in his heart he could not
go on living alone with such a thing on his mind!
‘And Svidrigaïlov was a riddle … He worried him, that
was true, but somehow not on the same point. He might
still have a struggle to come with Svidrigaïlov. Svidrigaïlov,
too, might be a means of escape; but Porfiry was a different
matter.
‘And so Porfiry himself had explained it to Razumihin,
had explained it psychologically. He had begun bringing in
his damned psychology again! Porfiry? But to think that
Porfiry should for one moment believe that Nikolay was
guilty, after what had passed between them before Nikolay’s
appearance, after that tête-à-tête interview, which could
have only one explanation? (During those days Raskolnikov
had often recalled passages in that scene with Porfiry; he
could not bear to let his mind rest on it.) Such words, such
gestures had passed between them, they had exchanged
Free eBooks at
Planet eBook.com
such glances, things had been said in such a tone and had
reached such a pass, that Nikolay, whom Porfiry had seen
through at the first word, at the first gesture, could not have
shaken his conviction.
‘And to think that even Razumihin had begun to suspect!
The scene in the corridor under the lamp had produced its
effect then. He had rushed to Porfiry…. But what had in-
duced the latter to receive him like that? What had been
his object in putting Razumihin off with Nikolay? He must
have some plan; there was some design, but what was it? It
was true that a long time had passed since that morning—
too long a time—and no sight nor sound of Porfiry. Well,
that was a bad sign….’
Raskolnikov took his cap and went out of the room, still
pondering. It was the first time for a long while that he had
felt clear in his mind, at least. ‘I must settle Svidrigaïlov,’ he
thought, ‘and as soon as possible; he, too, seems to be wait-
ing for me to come to him of my own accord.’ And at that
moment there was such a rush of hate in his weary heart
that he might have killed either of those two—Porfiry or
Svidrigaïlov. At least he felt that he would be capable of do-
ing it later, if not now.
‘We shall see, we shall see,’ he repeated to himself.
But no sooner had he opened the door than he stumbled
upon Porfiry himself in the passage. He was coming in to
see him. Raskolnikov was dumbfounded for a minute, but
only for one minute. Strange to say, he was not very much
astonished at seeing Porfiry and scarcely afraid of him. He
was simply startled, but was quickly, instantly, on his guard.
Crime and Punishment
‘Perhaps this will mean the end? But how could Porfiry have
approached so quietly, like a cat, so that he had heard noth-
ing? Could he have been listening at the door?’
‘You didn’t expect a visitor, Rodion Romanovitch,’ Por-
firy explained, laughing. ‘I’ve been meaning to look in a
long time; I was passing by and thought why not go in for
five minutes. Are you going out? I won’t keep you long. Just
let me have one cigarette.’
‘Sit down, Porfiry Petrovitch, sit down.’ Raskolnikov gave
his visitor a seat with so pleased and friendly an expression
that he would have marvelled at himself, if he could have
seen it.
The last moment had come, the last drops had to be
drained! So a man will sometimes go through half an hour
of mortal terror with a brigand, yet when the knife is at his
throat at last, he feels no fear.
Raskolnikov seated himself directly facing Porfiry, and
looked at him without flinching. Porfiry screwed up his
eyes and began lighting a cigarette.
‘Speak, speak,’ seemed as though it would burst from
Raskolnikov’s heart. ‘Come, why don’t you speak?’
Free eBooks at
Planet eBook.com
Chapter II
‘
Ah these cigarettes!’ Porfiry Petrovitch ejaculated at last,
having lighted one. ‘They are pernicious, positively perni-
cious, and yet I can’t give them up! I cough, I begin to have
tickling in my throat and a difficulty in breathing. You know
I am a coward, I went lately to Dr. B——n; he always gives
at least half an hour to each patient. He positively laughed
looking at me; he sounded me: ‘Tobacco’s bad for you,’ he
said, ‘your lungs are affected.’ But how am I to give it up?
What is there to take its place? I don’t drink, that’s the mis-
chief, he-he-he, that I don’t. Everything is relative, Rodion
Romanovitch, everything is relative!’
‘Why, he’s playing his professional tricks again,’ Raskol-
nikov thought with disgust. All the circumstances of their
last interview suddenly came back to him, and he felt a rush
of the feeling that had come upon him then.
‘I came to see you the day before yesterday, in the eve-
ning; you didn’t know?’ Porfiry Petrovitch went on, looking
round the room. ‘I came into this very room. I was passing
by, just as I did to-day, and I thought I’d return your call.
I walked in as your door was wide open, I looked round,
waited and went out without leaving my name with your
servant. Don’t you lock your door?’
Raskolnikov’s face grew more and more gloomy. Porfiry
seemed to guess his state of mind.
Crime and Punishment
‘I’ve come to have it out with you, Rodion Romanovitch,
my dear fellow! I owe you an explanation and must give it
to you,’ he continued with a slight smile, just patting Ras-
kolnikov’s knee.
But almost at the same instant a serious and careworn
look came into his face; to his surprise Raskolnikov saw a
touch of sadness in it. He had never seen and never suspect-
ed such an expression in his face.
‘A strange scene passed between us last time we met, Ro-
dion Romanovitch. Our first interview, too, was a strange
one; but then … and one thing after another! This is the
point: I have perhaps acted unfairly to you; I feel it. Do you
remember how we parted? Your nerves were unhinged and
your knees were shaking and so were mine. And, you know,
our behaviour was unseemly, even ungentlemanly. And yet
we are gentlemen, above all, in any case, gentlemen; that
must be understood. Do you remember what we came to? …
and it was quite indecorous.’
‘What is he up to, what does he take me for?’ Raskolnikov
asked himself in amazement, raising his head and looking
with open eyes on Porfiry.
‘I’ve decided openness is better between us,’ Porfiry
Petrovitch went on, turning his head away and dropping
his eyes, as though unwilling to disconcert his former vic-
tim and as though disdaining his former wiles. ‘Yes, such
suspicions and such scenes cannot continue for long. Niko-
lay put a stop to it, or I don’t know what we might not have
come to. That damned workman was sitting at the time in
the next room—can you realise that? You know that, of
Free eBooks at
Planet eBook.com
course; and I am aware that he came to you afterwards. But
what you supposed then was not true: I had not sent for any-
one, I had made no kind of arrangements. You ask why I
hadn’t? What shall I say to you? it had all come upon me so
suddenly. I had scarcely sent for the porters (you noticed
them as you went out, I dare say). An idea flashed upon me;
I was firmly convinced at the time, you see, Rodion Roma-
novitch. Come, I thought—even if I let one thing slip for a
time, I shall get hold of something else—I shan’t lose what
I want, anyway. You are nervously irritable, Rodion Roma-
novitch, by temperament; it’s out of proportion with other
qualities of your heart and character, which I flatter myself
I have to some extent divined. Of course I did reflect even
then that it does not always happen that a man gets up and
blurts out his whole story. It does happen sometimes, if you
make a man lose all patience, though even then it’s rare. I
was capable of realising that. If I only had a fact, I thought,
the least little fact to go upon, something I could lay hold
of, something tangible, not merely psychological. For if a
man is guilty, you must be able to get something substantial
out of him; one may reckon upon most surprising results
indeed. I was reckoning on your temperament, Rodion Ro-
manovitch, on your temperament above all things! I had
great hopes of you at that time.’
‘But what are you driving at now?’ Raskolnikov muttered
at last, asking the question without thinking.
‘What is he talking about?’ he wondered distractedly,
‘does he really take me to be innocent?’
‘What am I driving at? I’ve come to explain myself, I con-
Crime and Punishment
0
sider it my duty, so to speak. I want to make clear to you how
the whole business, the whole misunderstanding arose. I’ve
caused you a great deal of suffering, Rodion Romanovitch.
I am not a monster. I understand what it must mean for a
man who has been unfortunate, but who is proud, imperi-
ous and above all, impatient, to have to bear such treatment!
I regard you in any case as a man of noble character and
not without elements of magnanimity, though I don’t agree
with all your convictions. I wanted to tell you this first,
frankly and quite sincerely, for above all I don’t want to de-
ceive you. When I made your acquaintance, I felt attracted
by you. Perhaps you will laugh at my saying so. You have a
right to. I know you disliked me from the first and indeed
you’ve no reason to like me. You may think what you like,
but I desire now to do all I can to efface that impression and
to show that I am a man of heart and conscience. I speak
sincerely.’
Porfiry Petrovitch made a dignified pause. Raskolnikov
felt a rush of renewed alarm. The thought that Porfiry be-
lieved him to be innocent began to make him uneasy.
‘It’s scarcely necessary to go over everything in detail,’
Porfiry Petrovitch went on. ‘Indeed, I could scarcely attempt
it. To begin with there were rumours. Through whom, how,
and when those rumours came to me … and how they af-
fected you, I need not go into. My suspicions were aroused
by a complete accident, which might just as easily not have
happened. What was it? Hm! I believe there is no need to
go into that either. Those rumours and that accident led to
one idea in my mind. I admit it openly—for one may as well
1
Free eBooks at
Planet eBook.com
make a clean breast of it—I was the first to pitch on you. The
old woman’s notes on the pledges and the rest of it—that all
came to nothing. Yours was one of a hundred. I happened,
too, to hear of the scene at the office, from a man who de-
scribed it capitally, unconsciously reproducing the scene
with great vividness. It was just one thing after another, Ro-
dion Romanovitch, my dear fellow! How could I avoid being
brought to certain ideas? From a hundred rabbits you can’t
make a horse, a hundred suspicions don’t make a proof, as
the English proverb says, but that’s only from the rational
point of view—you can’t help being partial, for after all a
lawyer is only human. I thought, too, of your article in that
journal, do you remember, on your first visit we talked of
it? I jeered at you at the time, but that was only to lead you
on. I repeat, Rodion Romanovitch, you are ill and impatient.
That you were bold, headstrong, in earnest and … had felt a
great deal I recognised long before. I, too, have felt the same,
so that your article seemed familiar to me. It was conceived
on sleepless nights, with a throbbing heart, in ecstasy and
suppressed enthusiasm. And that proud suppressed enthu-
siasm in young people is dangerous! I jeered at you then,
but let me tell you that, as a literary amateur, I am awfully
fond of such first essays, full of the heat of youth. There is
a mistiness and a chord vibrating in the mist. Your article
is absurd and fantastic, but there’s a transparent sincerity, a
youthful incorruptible pride and the daring of despair in it.
It’s a gloomy article, but that’s what’s fine in it. I read your
article and put it aside, thinking as I did so ‘that man won’t
go the common way.’ Well, I ask you, after that as a prelimi-
Crime and Punishment
nary, how could I help being carried away by what followed?
Oh, dear, I am not saying anything, I am not making any
statement now. I simply noted it at the time. What is there
in it? I reflected. There’s nothing in it, that is really noth-
ing and perhaps absolutely nothing. And it’s not at all the
thing for the prosecutor to let himself be carried away by
notions: here I have Nikolay on my hands with actual evi-
dence against him—you may think what you like of it, but
it’s evidence. He brings in his psychology, too; one has to
consider him, too, for it’s a matter of life and death. Why
am I explaining this to you? That you may understand, and
not blame my malicious behaviour on that occasion. It was
not malicious, I assure you, he-he! Do you suppose I didn’t
come to search your room at the time? I did, I did, he-he! I
was here when you were lying ill in bed, not officially, not in
my own person, but I was here. Your room was searched to
the last thread at the first suspicion; but umsonst! I thought
to myself, now that man will come, will come of himself
and quickly, too; if he’s guilty, he’s sure to come. Anoth-
er man wouldn’t, but he will. And you remember how Mr.
Razumihin began discussing the subject with you? We ar-
ranged that to excite you, so we purposely spread rumours,
that he might discuss the case with you, and Razumihin
is not a man to restrain his indignation. Mr. Zametov was
tremendously struck by your anger and your open daring.
Think of blurting out in a restaurant ‘I killed her.’ It was too
daring, too reckless. I thought so myself, if he is guilty he
will be a formidable opponent. That was what I thought at
the time. I was expecting you. But you simply bowled Za-
Free eBooks at
Planet eBook.com
metov over and … well, you see, it all lies in this—that this
damnable psychology can be taken two ways! Well, I kept
expecting you, and so it was, you came! My heart was fairly
throbbing. Ach!
‘Now, why need you have come? Your laughter, too, as
you came in, do you remember? I saw it all plain as daylight,
but if I hadn’t expected you so specially, I should not have
noticed anything in your laughter. You see what influence a
mood has! Mr. Razumihin then—ah, that stone, that stone
under which the things were hidden! I seem to see it some-
where in a kitchen garden. It was in a kitchen garden, you
told Zametov and afterwards you repeated that in my office?
And when we began picking your article to pieces, how you
explained it! One could take every word of yours in two
senses, as though there were another meaning hidden.
‘So in this way, Rodion Romanovitch, I reached the fur-
thest limit, and knocking my head against a post, I pulled
myself up, asking myself what I was about. After all, I said,
you can take it all in another sense if you like, and it’s more
natural so, indeed. I couldn’t help admitting it was more
natural. I was bothered! ‘No, I’d better get hold of some lit-
tle fact’ I said. So when I heard of the bell-ringing, I held
my breath and was all in a tremor. ‘Here is my little fact,’
thought I, and I didn’t think it over, I simply wouldn’t. I
would have given a thousand roubles at that minute to have
seen you with my own eyes, when you walked a hundred
paces beside that workman, after he had called you murder-
er to your face, and you did not dare to ask him a question
all the way. And then what about your trembling, what
Crime and Punishment
about your bell-ringing in your illness, in semi-delirium?
‘And so, Rodion Romanovitch, can you wonder that I
played such pranks on you? And what made you come at
that very minute? Someone seemed to have sent you, by Jove!
And if Nikolay had not parted us … and do you remember
Nikolay at the time? Do you remember him clearly? It was
a thunderbolt, a regular thunderbolt! And how I met him!
I didn’t believe in the thunderbolt, not for a minute. You
could see it for yourself; and how could I? Even afterwards,
when you had gone and he began making very, very plausi-
ble answers on certain points, so that I was surprised at him
myself, even then I didn’t believe his story! You see what it
is to be as firm as a rock! No, thought I, Morgenfrüh. What
has Nikolay got to do with it!’
‘Razumihin told me just now that you think Nikolay
guilty and had yourself assured him of it….’
His voice failed him, and he broke off. He had been lis-
tening 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 am-
biguous words he kept eagerly looking for something more
definite and conclusive.
‘Mr. Razumihin!’ cried Porfiry Petrovitch, seeming glad
of a question from Raskolnikov, who had till then been si-
lent. ‘He-he-he! But I had to put Mr. Razumihin off; two
is company, three is none. Mr. Razumihin is not the right
man, besides he is an outsider. He came running to me with
a pale face…. But never mind him, why bring him in? To
return to Nikolay, would you like to know what sort of a
Free eBooks at
Planet eBook.com
type he is, how I understand him, that is? To begin with, he
is still a child and not exactly a coward, but something by
way of an artist. Really, don’t laugh at my describing him so.
He is innocent and responsive to influence. He has a heart,
and is a fantastic fellow. He sings and dances, he tells sto-
ries, they say, so that people come from other villages to
hear him. He attends school too, and laughs till he cries if
you hold up a finger to him; he will drink himself sense-
less—not as a regular vice, but at times, when people treat
him, like a child. And he stole, too, then, without knowing
it himself, for ‘How can it be stealing, if one picks it up?’
And do you know he is an Old Believer, or rather a dissent-
er? There have been Wanderers[*] in his family, and he was
for two years in his village under the spiritual guidance of
a certain elder. I learnt all this from Nikolay and from his
fellow villagers. And what’s more, he wanted to run into the
wilderness! He was full of fervour, prayed at night, read the
old books, ‘the true’ ones, and read himself crazy.
[*] A religious sect.—TRANSLATOR’S NOTE.
‘Petersburg had a great effect upon him, especially the
women and the wine. He responds to everything and he for-
got the elder and all that. I learnt that an artist here took
a fancy to him, and used to go and see him, and now this
business came upon him.
‘Well, he was frightened, he tried to hang himself! He
ran away! How can one get over the idea the people have of
Russian legal proceedings? The very word ‘trial’ frightens
some of them. Whose fault is it? We shall see what the new
juries will do. God grant they do good! Well, in prison, it
Crime and Punishment
seems, he remembered the venerable elder; the Bible, too,
made its appearance again. Do you know, Rodion Romano-
vitch, the force of the word ‘suffering’ among some of these
people! It’s not a question of suffering for someone’s benefit,
but simply, ‘one must suffer.’ If they suffer at the hands of
the authorities, so much the better. In my time there was
a very meek and mild prisoner who spent a whole year in
prison always reading his Bible on the stove at night and
he read himself crazy, and so crazy, do you know, that one
day, apropos of nothing, he seized a brick and flung it at the
governor; though he had done him no harm. And the way
he threw it too: aimed it a yard on one side on purpose, for
fear of hurting him. Well, we know what happens to a pris-
oner who assaults an officer with a weapon. So ‘he took his
suffering.’
‘So I suspect now that Nikolay wants to take his suffer-
ing or something of the sort. I know it for certain from
facts, indeed. Only he doesn’t know that I know. What, you
don’t admit that there are such fantastic people among the
peasants? Lots of them. The elder now has begun influenc-
ing him, especially since he tried to hang himself. But he’ll
come and tell me all himself. You think he’ll hold out? Wait
a bit, he’ll take his words back. I am waiting from hour to
hour for him to come and abjure his evidence. I have come
to like that Nikolay and am studying him in detail. And
what do you think? He-he! He answered me very plausibly
on some points, he obviously had collected some evidence
and prepared himself cleverly. But on other points he is
simply at sea, knows nothing and doesn’t even suspect that
Free eBooks at
Planet eBook.com
he doesn’t know!
‘No, Rodion Romanovitch, Nikolay doesn’t come in!
This is a fantastic, gloomy business, a modern case, an in-
cident of to-day when the heart of man is troubled, when
the phrase is quoted that blood ‘renews,’ when comfort is
preached as the aim of life. Here we have bookish dreams,
a heart unhinged by theories. Here we see resolution in the
first stage, but resolution of a special kind: he resolved to
do it like jumping over a precipice or from a bell tower and
his legs shook as he went to the crime. He forgot to shut
the door after him, and murdered two people for a theo-
ry. He committed the murder and couldn’t take the money,
and what he did manage to snatch up he hid under a stone.
It wasn’t enough for him to suffer agony behind the door
while they battered at the door and rung the bell, no, he had
to go to the empty lodging, half delirious, to recall the bell-
ringing, he wanted to feel the cold shiver over again…. Well,
that we grant, was through illness, but consider this: he is
a murderer, but looks upon himself as an honest man, de-
spises others, poses as injured innocence. No, that’s not the
work of a Nikolay, my dear Rodion Romanovitch!’
All that had been said before had sounded so like a recan-
tation that these words were too great a shock. Raskolnikov
shuddered as though he had been stabbed.
‘Then … who then … is the murderer?’ he asked in a
breathless voice, unable to restrain himself.
Porfiry Petrovitch sank back in his chair, as though he
were amazed at the question.
‘Who is the murderer?’ he repeated, as though unable to
Crime and Punishment
believe his ears. ‘Why, you Rodion Romanovitch! You are
the murderer,’ he added, almost in a whisper, in a voice of
genuine conviction.
Raskolnikov leapt from the sofa, stood up for a few sec-
onds and sat down again without uttering a word. His face
twitched convulsively.
‘Your lip is twitching just as it did before,’ Porfiry Petro-
vitch observed almost sympathetically. ‘You’ve been
misunderstanding me, I think, Rodion Romanovitch,’ he
added after a brief pause, ‘that’s why you are so surprised.
I came on purpose to tell you everything and deal openly
with you.’
‘It was not I murdered her,’ Raskolnikov whispered like a
frightened child caught in the act.
‘No, it was you, you Rodion Romanovitch, and no one
else,’ Porfiry whispered sternly, with conviction.
They were both silent and the silence lasted strangely
long, about ten minutes. Raskolnikov put his elbow on the
table and passed his fingers through his hair. Porfiry Petro-
vitch sat quietly waiting. Suddenly Raskolnikov looked
scornfully at Porfiry.
‘You are at your old tricks again, Porfiry Petrovitch! Your
old method again. I wonder you don’t get sick of it!’
‘Oh, stop that, what does that matter now? It would be a
different matter if there were witnesses present, but we are
whispering alone. You see yourself that I have not come to
chase and capture you like a hare. Whether you confess it
or not is nothing to me now; for myself, I am convinced
without it.’
Free eBooks at
Planet eBook.com
‘If so, what did you come for?’ Raskolnikov asked irrita-
bly. ‘I ask you the same question again: if you consider me
guilty, why don’t you take me to prison?’
‘Oh, that’s your question! I will answer you, point for
point. In the first place, to arrest you so directly is not to
my interest.’
‘How so? If you are convinced you ought….’
‘Ach, what if I am convinced? That’s only my dream for
the time. Why should I put you in safety? You know that’s it,
since you ask me to do it. If I confront you with that work-
man for instance and you say to him ‘were you drunk or
not? Who saw me with you? I simply took you to be drunk,
and you were drunk, too.’ Well, what could I answer, espe-
cially as your story is a more likely one than his? for there’s
nothing but psychology to support his evidence—that’s al-
most unseemly with his ugly mug, while you hit the mark
exactly, for the rascal is an inveterate drunkard and notori-
ously so. And I have myself admitted candidly several times
already that that psychology can be taken in two ways and
that the second way is stronger and looks far more prob-
able, and that apart from that I have as yet nothing against
you. And though I shall put you in prison and indeed have
come—quite contrary to etiquette—to inform you of it be-
forehand, yet I tell you frankly, also contrary to etiquette,
that it won’t be to my advantage. Well, secondly, I’ve come
to you because …’
‘Yes, yes, secondly?’ Raskolnikov was listening breath-
less.
‘Because, as I told you just now, I consider I owe you an
Crime and Punishment
0
explanation. I don’t want you to look upon me as a monster,
as I have a genuine liking for you, you may believe me or
not. And in the third place I’ve come to you with a direct
and open proposition—that you should surrender and con-
fess. It will be infinitely more to your advantage and to my
advantage too, for my task will be done. Well, is this open
on my part or not?’
Raskolnikov thought a minute.
‘Listen, Porfiry Petrovitch. You said just now you have
nothing but psychology to go on, yet now you’ve gone
on mathematics. Well, what if you are mistaken yourself,
now?’
‘No, Rodion Romanovitch, I am not mistaken. I have a
little fact even then, Providence sent it me.’
‘What little fact?’
‘I won’t tell you what, Rodion Romanovitch. And in any
case, I haven’t the right to put it off any longer, I must arrest
you. So think it over: it makes no difference to me now and
so I speak only for your sake. Believe me, it will be better,
Rodion Romanovitch.’
Raskolnikov smiled malignantly.
‘That’s not simply ridiculous, it’s positively shameless.
Why, even if I were guilty, which I don’t admit, what reason
should I have to confess, when you tell me yourself that I
shall be in greater safety in prison?’
‘Ah, Rodion Romanovitch, don’t put too much faith in
words, perhaps prison will not be altogether a restful place.
That’s only theory and my theory, and what authority am
I for you? Perhaps, too, even now I am hiding something
1
Free eBooks at
Planet eBook.com
from you? I can’t lay bare everything, he-he! And how can
you ask what advantage? Don’t you know how it would less-
en your sentence? You would be confessing at a moment
when another man has taken the crime on himself and so
has muddled the whole case. Consider that! I swear before
God that I will so arrange that your confession shall come
as a complete surprise. We will make a clean sweep of all
these psychological points, of a suspicion against you, so
that your crime will appear to have been something like an
aberration, for in truth it was an aberration. I am an honest
man, Rodion Romanovitch, and will keep my word.’
Raskolnikov maintained a mournful silence and let his
head sink dejectedly. He pondered a long while and at last
smiled again, but his smile was sad and gentle.
‘No!’ he said, apparently abandoning all attempt to keep
up appearances with Porfiry, ‘it’s not worth it, I don’t care
about lessening the sentence!’
‘That’s just what I was afraid of!’ Porfiry cried warmly
and, as it seemed, involuntarily. ‘That’s just what I feared,
that you wouldn’t care about the mitigation of sentence.’
Raskolnikov looked sadly and expressively at him.
‘Ah, don’t disdain life!’ Porfiry went on. ‘You have a great
deal of it still before you. How can you say you don’t want a
mitigation of sentence? You are an impatient fellow!’
‘A great deal of what lies before me?’
‘Of life. What sort of prophet are you, do you know much
about it? Seek and ye shall find. This may be God’s means
for bringing you to Him. And it’s not for ever, the bond-
age….’
Crime and Punishment
‘The time will be shortened,’ laughed Raskolnikov.
‘Why, is it the bourgeois disgrace you are afraid of? It
may be that you are afraid of it without knowing it, because
you are young! But anyway you shouldn’t be afraid of giving
yourself up and confessing.’
‘Ach, hang it!’ Raskolnikov whispered with loathing and
contempt, as though he did not want to speak aloud.
He got up again as though he meant to go away, but sat
down again in evident despair.
‘Hang it, if you like! You’ve lost faith and you think that
I am grossly flattering you; but how long has your life been?
How much do you understand? You made up a theory and
then were ashamed that it broke down and turned out to be
not at all original! It turned out something base, that’s true,
but you are not hopelessly base. By no means so base! At
least you didn’t deceive yourself for long, you went straight
to the furthest point at one bound. How do I regard you? I
regard you as one of those men who would stand and smile
at their torturer while he cuts their entrails out, if only they
have found faith or God. Find it and you will live. You have
long needed a change of air. Suffering, too, is a good thing.
Suffer! Maybe Nikolay is right in wanting to suffer. I know
you don’t believe in it—but don’t be over-wise; fling yourself
straight into life, without deliberation; don’t be afraid—the
flood will bear you to the bank and set you safe on your
feet again. What bank? How can I tell? I only believe that
you have long life before you. I know that you take all my
words now for a set speech prepared beforehand, but maybe
you will remember them after. They may be of use some
Free eBooks at
Planet eBook.com
time. That’s why I speak. It’s as well that you only killed
the old woman. If you’d invented another theory you might
perhaps have done something a thousand times more hid-
eous. You ought to thank God, perhaps. How do you know?
Perhaps God is saving you for something. But keep a good
heart and have less fear! Are you afraid of the great expia-
tion before you? No, it would be shameful to be afraid of
it. Since you have taken such a step, you must harden your
heart. There is justice in it. You must fulfil the demands of
justice. I know that you don’t believe it, but indeed, life will
bring you through. You will live it down in time. What you
need now is fresh air, fresh air, fresh air!’
Raskolnikov positively started.
‘But who are you? what prophet are you? From the height
of what majestic calm do you proclaim these words of wis-
dom?’
‘Who am I? I am a man with nothing to hope for, that’s
all. A man perhaps of feeling and sympathy, maybe of some
knowledge too, but my day is over. But you are a different
matter, there is life waiting for you. Though, who knows?
maybe your life, too, will pass off in smoke and come to
nothing. Come, what does it matter, that you will pass into
another class of men? It’s not comfort you regret, with your
heart! What of it that perhaps no one will see you for so
long? It’s not time, but yourself that will decide that. Be the
sun and all will see you. The sun has before all to be the sun.
Why are you smiling again? At my being such a Schiller? I
bet you’re imagining that I am trying to get round you by
flattery. Well, perhaps I am, he-he-he! Perhaps you’d better
Crime and Punishment
not believe my word, perhaps you’d better never believe it
altogether—I’m made that way, I confess it. But let me add,
you can judge for yourself, I think, how far I am a base sort
of man and how far I am honest.’
‘When do you mean to arrest me?’
‘Well, I can let you walk about another day or two. Think
it over, my dear fellow, and pray to God. It’s more in your
interest, believe me.’
‘And what if I run away?’ asked Raskolnikov with a
strange smile.
‘No, you won’t run away. A peasant would run away, a
fashionable dissenter would run away, the flunkey of anoth-
er man’s thought, for you’ve only to show him the end of
your little finger and he’ll be ready to believe in anything for
the rest of his life. But you’ve ceased to believe in your the-
ory already, what will you run away with? And what would
you do in hiding? It would be hateful and difficult for you,
and what you need more than anything in life is a definite
position, an atmosphere to suit you. And what sort of atmo-
sphere would you have? If you ran away, you’d come back
to yourself. You can’t get on without us. And if I put you in
prison—say you’ve been there a month, or two, or three—
remember my word, you’ll confess of yourself and perhaps
to your own surprise. You won’t know an hour beforehand
that you are coming with a confession. I am convinced that
you will decide, ‘to take your suffering.’ You don’t believe
my words now, but you’ll come to it of yourself. For suf-
fering, Rodion Romanovitch, is a great thing. Never mind
my having grown fat, I know all the same. Don’t laugh at it,
Free eBooks at
Planet eBook.com
there’s an idea in suffering, Nokolay is right. No, you won’t
run away, Rodion Romanovitch.’
Raskolnikov got up and took his cap. Porfiry Petrovitch
also rose.
‘Are you going for a walk? The evening will be fine, if only
we don’t have a storm. Though it would be a good thing to
freshen the air.’
He, too, took his cap.
‘Porfiry Petrovitch, please don’t take up the notion that
I have confessed to you to-day,’ Raskolnikov pronounced
with sullen insistence. ‘You’re a strange man and I have
listened to you from simple curiosity. But I have admitted
nothing, remember that!’
‘Oh, I know that, I’ll remember. Look at him, he’s trem-
bling! Don’t be uneasy, my dear fellow, have it your own way.
Walk about a bit, you won’t be able to walk too far. If any-
thing happens, I have one request to make of you,’ he added,
dropping his voice. ‘It’s an awkward one, but important. If
anything were to happen (though indeed I don’t believe in
it and think you quite incapable of it), yet in case you were
taken during these forty or fifty hours with the notion of
putting an end to the business in some other way, in some
fantastic fashion—laying hands on yourself—(it’s an absurd
proposition, but you must forgive me for it) do leave a brief
but precise note, only two lines, and mention the stone. It
will be more generous. Come, till we meet! Good thoughts
and sound decisions to you!’
Porfiry went out, stooping and avoiding looking at Ras-
kolnikov. The latter went to the window and waited with
Crime and Punishment
irritable impatience till he calculated that Porfiry had
reached the street and moved away. Then he too went hur-
riedly out of the room.
Free eBooks at
Planet eBook.com
Chapter III
H
e hurried to Svidrigaïlov’s. What he had to hope from
that man he did not know. But that man had some hid-
den power over him. Having once recognised this, he could
not rest, and now the time had come.
On the way, one question particularly worried him: had
Svidrigaïlov been to Porfiry’s?
As far as he could judge, he would swear to it, that he had
not. He pondered again and again, went over Porfiry’s visit;
no, he hadn’t been, of course he hadn’t.
But if he had not been yet, would he go? Meanwhile, for
the present he fancied he couldn’t. Why? He could not have
explained, but if he could, he would not have wasted much
thought over it at the moment. It all worried him and at the
same time he could not attend to it. Strange to say, none
would have believed it perhaps, but he only felt a faint vague
anxiety about his immediate future. Another, much more
important anxiety tormented him—it concerned himself,
but in a different, more vital way. Moreover, he was con-
scious of immense moral fatigue, though his mind was
working better that morning than it had done of late.
And was it worth while, after all that had happened, to
contend with these new trivial difficulties? Was it worth
while, for instance, to manœuvre that Svidrigaïlov should
not go to Porfiry’s? Was it worth while to investigate, to
Crime and Punishment
ascertain the facts, to waste time over anyone like Svidriga-
ïlov?
Oh, how sick he was of it all!
And yet he was hastening to Svidrigaïlov; could he be ex-
pecting something new from him, information, or means of
escape? Men will catch at straws! Was it destiny or some in-
stinct bringing them together? Perhaps it was only fatigue,
despair; perhaps it was not Svidrigaïlov but some other
whom he needed, and Svidrigaïlov had simply presented
himself by chance. Sonia? But what should he go to Sonia
for now? To beg her tears again? He was afraid of Sonia, too.
Sonia stood before him as an irrevocable sentence. He must
go his own way or hers. At that moment especially he did
not feel equal to seeing her. No, would it not be better to try
Svidrigaïlov? And he could not help inwardly owning that
he had long felt that he must see him for some reason.
But what could they have in common? Their very evil-
doing could not be of the same kind. The man, moreover,
was very unpleasant, evidently depraved, undoubtedly cun-
ning and deceitful, possibly malignant. Such stories were
told about him. It is true he was befriending Katerina Iva-
novna’s children, but who could tell with what motive and
what it meant? The man always had some design, some proj-
ect.
There was another thought which had been continually
hovering of late about Raskolnikov’s mind, and causing him
great uneasiness. It was so painful that he made distinct ef-
forts to get rid of it. He sometimes thought that Svidrigaïlov
was dogging his footsteps. Svidrigaïlov had found out his
Free eBooks at
Planet eBook.com
secret and had had designs on Dounia. What if he had them
still? Wasn’t it practically certain that he had? And what if,
having learnt his secret and so having gained power over
him, he were to use it as a weapon against Dounia?
This idea sometimes even tormented his dreams, but it
had never presented itself so vividly to him as on his way to
Svidrigaïlov. The very thought moved him to gloomy rage.
To begin with, this would transform everything, even his
own position; he would have at once to confess his secret to
Dounia. Would he have to give himself up perhaps to pre-
vent Dounia from taking some rash step? The letter? This
morning Dounia had received a letter. From whom could
she get letters in Petersburg? Luzhin, perhaps? It’s true Ra-
zumihin was there to protect her, but Razumihin knew
nothing of the position. Perhaps it was his duty to tell Razu-
mihin? He thought of it with repugnance.
In any case he must see Svidrigaïlov as soon as possible,
he decided finally. Thank God, the details of the interview
were of little consequence, if only he could get at the root of
the matter; but if Svidrigaïlov were capable … if he were in-
triguing against Dounia— then …
Raskolnikov was so exhausted by what he had passed
through that month that he could only decide such ques-
tions in one way; ‘then I shall kill him,’ he thought in cold
despair.
A sudden anguish oppressed his heart, he stood still in
the middle of the street and began looking about to see
where he was and which way he was going. He found himself
in X. Prospect, thirty or forty paces from the Hay Market,
Crime and Punishment
0
through which he had come. The whole second storey of
the house on the left was used as a tavern. All the windows
were wide open; judging from the figures moving at the
windows, the rooms were full to overflowing. There were
sounds of singing, of clarionet and violin, and the boom of
a Turkish drum. He could hear women shrieking. He was
about to turn back wondering why he had come to the X.
Prospect, when suddenly at one of the end windows he saw
Svidrigaïlov, sitting at a tea-table right in the open window
with a pipe in his mouth. Raskolnikov was dreadfully taken
aback, almost terrified. Svidrigaïlov was silently watching
and scrutinising him and, what struck Raskolnikov at once,
seemed to be meaning to get up and slip away unobserved.
Raskolnikov at once pretended not to have seen him, but
to be looking absent-mindedly away, while he watched him
out of the corner of his eye. His heart was beating violently.
Yet, it was evident that Svidrigaïlov did not want to be seen.
He took the pipe out of his mouth and was on the point of
concealing himself, but as he got up and moved back his
chair, he seemed to have become suddenly aware that Ras-
kolnikov had seen him, and was watching him. What had
passed between them was much the same as what happened
at their first meeting in Raskolnikov’s room. A sly smile
came into Svidrigaïlov’s face and grew broader and broader.
Each knew that he was seen and watched by the other. At
last Svidrigaïlov broke into a loud laugh.
‘Well, well, come in if you want me; I am here!’ he shout-
ed from the window.
Raskolnikov went up into the tavern. He found Svid-
1
Free eBooks at
Planet eBook.com
rigaïlov 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 bawl-
ing of a chorus of singers. The click of billiard balls could
be heard in the distance. On the table before Svidrigaïlov
stood an open bottle and a glass half full of champagne. In
the room he found also a boy with a little hand organ, a
healthy-looking red- cheeked girl of eighteen, wearing a
tucked-up striped skirt, and a Tyrolese hat with ribbons. In
spite of the chorus in the other room, she was singing some
servants’ hall song in a rather husky contralto, to the ac-
companiment of the organ.
‘Come, that’s enough,’ Svidrigaïlov stopped her at Ras-
kolnikov’s entrance. The girl at once broke off and stood
waiting respectfully. She had sung her guttural rhymes, too,
with a serious and respectful expression in her face.
‘Hey, Philip, a glass!’ shouted Svidrigaïlov.
‘I won’t drink anything,’ said Raskolnikov.
‘As you like, I didn’t mean it for you. Drink, Katia! I don’t
want anything more to-day, you can go.’ He poured her out
a full glass, and laid down a yellow note.
Katia drank off her glass of wine, as women do, without
putting it down, in twenty gulps, took the note and kissed
Svidrigaïlov’s hand, which he allowed quite seriously. She
went out of the room and the boy trailed after her with
the organ. Both had been brought in from the street. Svid-
rigaïlov had not been a week in Petersburg, but everything
about him was already, so to speak, on a patriarchal foot-
ing; the waiter, Philip, was by now an old friend and very
Crime and Punishment
obsequious.
The door leading to the saloon had a lock on it. Svidriga-
ïlov was at home in this room and perhaps spent whole days
in it. The tavern was dirty and wretched, not even second-
rate.
‘I was going to see you and looking for you,’ Raskol-
nikov began, ‘but I don’t know what made me turn from
the Hay Market into the X. Prospect just now. I never take
this turning. I turn to the right from the Hay Market. And
this isn’t the way to you. I simply turned and here you are.
It is strange!’
‘Why don’t you say at once ‘it’s a miracle’?’
‘Because it may be only chance.’
‘Oh, that’s the way with all you folk,’ laughed Svidriga-
ïlov. ‘You won’t admit it, even if you do inwardly believe it a
miracle! Here you say that it may be only chance. And what
cowards they all are here, about having an opinion of their
own, you can’t fancy, Rodion Romanovitch. I don’t mean
you, you have an opinion of your own and are not afraid to
have it. That’s how it was you attracted my curiosity.’
‘Nothing else?’
‘Well, that’s enough, you know,’ Svidrigaïlov was obvi-
ously exhilarated, but only slightly so, he had not had more
than half a glass of wine.
‘I fancy you came to see me before you knew that I was
capable of having what you call an opinion of my own,’ ob-
served Raskolnikov.
‘Oh, well, it was a different matter. everyone has his own
plans. And apropos of the miracle let me tell you that I
Free eBooks at
Planet eBook.com
think you have been asleep for the last two or three days.
I told you of this tavern myself, there is no miracle in your
coming straight here. I explained the way myself, told you
where it was, and the hours you could find me here. Do you
remember?’
‘I don’t remember,’ answered Raskolnikov with surprise.
‘I believe you. I told you twice. The address has been
stamped mechanically on your memory. You turned this
way mechanically and yet precisely according to the di-
rection, though you are not aware of it. When I told you
then, I hardly hoped you understood me. You give your-
self away too much, Rodion Romanovitch. And another
thing, I’m convinced there are lots of people in Petersburg
who talk to themselves as they walk. This is a town of crazy
people. If only we had scientific men, doctors, lawyers and
philosophers might make most valuable investigations in
Petersburg each in his own line. There are few places where
there are so many gloomy, strong and queer influences on
the soul of man as in Petersburg. The mere influences of cli-
mate mean so much. And it’s the administrative centre of
all Russia and its character must be reflected on the whole
country. But that is neither here nor there now. The point
is that I have several times watched you. You walk out of
your house—holding your head high—twenty paces from
home you let it sink, and fold your hands behind your back.
You look and evidently see nothing before nor beside you.
At last you begin moving your lips and talking to yourself,
and sometimes you wave one hand and declaim, and at last
stand still in the middle of the road. That’s not at all the
Crime and Punishment
thing. Someone may be watching you besides me, and it
won’t do you any good. It’s nothing really to do with me and
I can’t cure you, but, of course, you understand me.’
‘Do you know that I am being followed?’ asked Raskol-
nikov, looking inquisitively at him.
‘No, I know nothing about it,’ said Svidrigaïlov, seeming
surprised.
‘Well, then, let us leave me alone,’ Raskolnikov muttered,
frowning.
‘Very good, let us leave you alone.’
‘You had better tell me, if you come here to drink, and di-
rected me twice to come here to you, why did you hide, and
try to get away just now when I looked at the window from
the street? I saw it.’
‘He-he! And why was it you lay on your sofa with closed
eyes and pretended to be asleep, though you were wide
awake while I stood in your doorway? I saw it.’
‘I may have had … reasons. You know that yourself.’
‘And I may have had my reasons, though you don’t know
them.’
Raskolnikov dropped his right elbow on the table, leaned
his chin in the fingers of his right hand, and stared intent-
ly at Svidrigaïlov. For a full minute he scrutinised his face,
which had impressed him before. It was a strange face, like
a mask; white and red, with bright red lips, with a flaxen
beard, and still thick flaxen hair. His eyes were somehow
too blue and their expression somehow too heavy and fixed.
There was something awfully unpleasant in that handsome
face, which looked so wonderfully young for his age. Svid-
Free eBooks at
Planet eBook.com
rigaïlov was smartly dressed in light summer clothes and
was particularly dainty in his linen. He wore a huge ring
with a precious stone in it.
‘Have I got to bother myself about you, too, now?’ said
Raskolnikov suddenly, coming with nervous impatience
straight to the point. ‘Even though perhaps you are the most
dangerous man if you care to injure me, I don’t want to put
myself out any more. I will show you at once that I don’t
prize myself as you probably think I do. I’ve come to tell
you at once that if you keep to your former intentions with
regard to my sister and if you think to derive any benefit in
that direction from what has been discovered of late, I will
kill you before you get me locked up. You can reckon on my
word. You know that I can keep it. And in the second place
if you want to tell me anything —for I keep fancying all
this time that you have something to tell me—make haste
and tell it, for time is precious and very likely it will soon
be too late.’
‘Why in such haste?’ asked Svidrigaïlov, looking at him
curiously.
‘Everyone has his plans,’ Raskolnikov answered gloomily
and impatiently.
‘You urged me yourself to frankness just now, and at the
first question you refuse to answer,’ Svidrigaïlov observed
with a smile. ‘You keep fancying that I have aims of my own
and so you look at me with suspicion. Of course it’s perfect-
ly natural in your position. But though I should like to be
friends with you, I shan’t trouble myself to convince you of
the contrary. The game isn’t worth the candle and I wasn’t
Crime and Punishment
intending to talk to you about anything special.’
‘What did you want me, for, then? It was you who came
hanging about me.’
‘Why, simply as an interesting subject for observation. I
liked the fantastic nature of your position—that’s what it
was! Besides you are the brother of a person who greatly in-
terested me, and from that person I had in the past heard a
very great deal about you, from which I gathered that you
had a great influence over her; isn’t that enough? Ha-ha-ha!
Still I must admit that your question is rather complex, and
is difficult for me to answer. Here, you, for instance, have
come to me not only for a definite object, but for the sake of
hearing something new. Isn’t that so? Isn’t that so?’ persist-
ed Svidrigaïlov with a sly smile. ‘Well, can’t you fancy then
that I, too, on my way here in the train was reckoning on
you, on your telling me something new, and on my making
some profit out of you! You see what rich men we are!’
‘What profit could you make?’
‘How can I tell you? How do I know? You see in what
a tavern I spend all my time and it’s my enjoyment, that’s
to say it’s no great enjoyment, but one must sit somewhere;
that poor Katia now—you saw her? … If only I had been a
glutton now, a club gourmand, but you see I can eat this.’
He pointed to a little table in the corner where the rem-
nants of a terrible-looking beef-steak and potatoes lay on a
tin dish.
‘Have you dined, by the way? I’ve had something and
want nothing more. I don’t drink, for instance, at all. Ex-
cept for champagne I never touch anything, and not more
Free eBooks at
Planet eBook.com
than a glass of that all the evening, and even that is enough
to make my head ache. I ordered it just now to wind my-
self up, for I am just going off somewhere and you see me
in a peculiar state of mind. That was why I hid myself just
now like a schoolboy, for I was afraid you would hinder me.
But I believe,’ he pulled out his watch, ‘I can spend an hour
with you. It’s half-past four now. If only I’d been something,
a landowner, a father, a cavalry officer, a photographer, a
journalist … I am nothing, no specialty, and sometimes
I am positively bored. I really thought you would tell me
something new.’
‘But what are you, and why have you come here?’
‘What am I? You know, a gentleman, I served for two
years in the cavalry, then I knocked about here in Pe-
tersburg, then I married Marfa Petrovna and lived in the
country. There you have my biography!’
‘You are a gambler, I believe?’
‘No, a poor sort of gambler. A card-sharper—not a gam-
bler.’
‘You have been a card-sharper then?’
‘Yes, I’ve been a card-sharper too.’
‘Didn’t you get thrashed sometimes?’
‘It did happen. Why?’
‘Why, you might have challenged them … altogether it
must have been lively.’
‘I won’t contradict you, and besides I am no hand at phi-
losophy. I confess that I hastened here for the sake of the
women.’
‘As soon as you buried Marfa Petrovna?’
Crime and Punishment
‘Quite so,’ Svidrigaïlov smiled with engaging candour.
‘What of it? You seem to find something wrong in my speak-
ing like that about women?’
‘You ask whether I find anything wrong in vice?’
‘Vice! Oh, that’s what you are after! But I’ll answer you
in order, first about women in general; you know I am fond
of talking. Tell me, what should I restrain myself for? Why
should I give up women, since I have a passion for them? It’s
an occupation, anyway.’
‘So you hope for nothing here but vice?’
‘Oh, very well, for vice then. You insist on its being vice.
But anyway I like a direct question. In this vice at least there
is something permanent, founded indeed upon nature and
not dependent on fantasy, something present in the blood
like an ever-burning ember, for ever setting one on fire and,
maybe, not to be quickly extinguished, even with years.
You’ll agree it’s an occupation of a sort.’
‘That’s nothing to rejoice at, it’s a disease and a danger-
ous one.’
‘Oh, that’s what you think, is it! I agree, that it is a disease
like everything that exceeds moderation. And, of course,
in this one must exceed moderation. But in the first place,
everybody does so in one way or another, and in the sec-
ond place, of course, one ought to be moderate and prudent,
however mean it may be, but what am I to do? If I hadn’t
this, I might have to shoot myself. I am ready to admit that
a decent man ought to put up with being bored, but yet …’
‘And could you shoot yourself?’
‘Oh, come!’ Svidrigaïlov parried with disgust. ‘Please
Free eBooks at
Planet eBook.com
don’t speak of it,’ he added hurriedly and with none of the
bragging tone he had shown in all the previous conversa-
tion. His face quite changed. ‘I admit it’s an unpardonable
weakness, but I can’t help it. I am afraid of death and I dis-
like its being talked of. Do you know that I am to a certain
extent a mystic?’
‘Ah, the apparitions of Marfa Petrovna! Do they still go
on visiting you?’
‘Oh, don’t talk of them; there have been no more in Pe-
tersburg, confound them!’ he cried with an air of irritation.
‘Let’s rather talk of that … though … H’m! I have not much
time, and can’t stay long with you, it’s a pity! I should have
found plenty to tell you.’
‘What’s your engagement, a woman?’
‘Yes, a woman, a casual incident…. No, that’s not what I
want to talk of.’
‘And the hideousness, the filthiness of all your surround-
ings, doesn’t that affect you? Have you lost the strength to
stop yourself?’
‘And do you pretend to strength, too? He-he-he! You sur-
prised me just now, Rodion Romanovitch, though I knew
beforehand it would be so. You preach to me about vice
and æsthetics! You—a Schiller, you—an idealist! Of course
that’s all as it should be and it would be surprising if it were
not so, yet it is strange in reality…. Ah, what a pity I have
no time, for you’re a most interesting type! And, by-the-way,
are you fond of Schiller? I am awfully fond of him.’
‘But what a braggart you are,’ Raskolnikov said with
some disgust.
Crime and Punishment
0
‘Upon my word, I am not,’ answered Svidrigaïlov laugh-
ing. ‘However, I won’t dispute it, let me be a braggart, why
not brag, if it hurts no one? I spent seven years in the coun-
try with Marfa Petrovna, so now when I come across an
intelligent person like you—intelligent and highly interest-
ing—I am simply glad to talk and, besides, I’ve drunk that
half-glass of champagne and it’s gone to my head a little.
And besides, there’s a certain fact that has wound me up tre-
mendously, but about that I … will keep quiet. Where are
you off to?’ he asked in alarm.
Raskolnikov had begun getting up. He felt oppressed
and stifled and, as it were, ill at ease at having come here.
He felt convinced that Svidrigaïlov was the most worthless
scoundrel on the face of the earth.
‘A-ach! Sit down, stay a little!’ Svidrigaïlov begged. ‘Let
them bring you some tea, anyway. Stay a little, I won’t talk
nonsense, about myself, I mean. I’ll tell you something. If
you like I’ll tell you how a woman tried ‘to save’ me, as you
would call it? It will be an answer to your first question in-
deed, for the woman was your sister. May I tell you? It will
help to spend the time.’
‘Tell me, but I trust that you …’
‘Oh, don’t be uneasy. Besides, even in a worthless low
fellow like me, Avdotya Romanovna can only excite the
deepest respect.’
1
Free eBooks at
Planet eBook.com
Chapter IV
‘Y
ou know perhaps—yes, I told you myself,’ began Svid-
rigaïlov, ‘that I was in the debtors’ prison here, for an
immense sum, and had not any expectation of being able
to pay it. There’s no need to go into particulars how Marfa
Petrovna bought me out; do you know to what a point of
insanity a woman can sometimes love? She was an honest
woman, and very sensible, although completely uneducat-
ed. Would you believe that this honest and jealous woman,
after many scenes of hysterics and reproaches, condescend-
ed to enter into a kind of contract with me which she kept
throughout our married life? She was considerably older
than I, and besides, she always kept a clove or something
in her mouth. There was so much swinishness in my soul
and honesty too, of a sort, as to tell her straight out that I
couldn’t be absolutely faithful to her. This confession drove
her to frenzy, but yet she seems in a way to have liked my
brutal frankness. She thought it showed I was unwilling
to deceive her if I warned her like this beforehand and for
a jealous woman, you know, that’s the first consideration.
After many tears an unwritten contract was drawn up be-
tween us: first, that I would never leave Marfa Petrovna and
would always be her husband; secondly, that I would never
absent myself without her permission; thirdly, that I would
never set up a permanent mistress; fourthly, in return for
Crime and Punishment
this, Marfa Petrovna gave me a free hand with the maid-
servants, but only with her secret knowledge; fifthly, God
forbid my falling in love with a woman of our class; sixthly,
in case I—which God forbid—should be visited by a great
serious passion I was bound to reveal it to Marfa Petrovna.
On this last score, however, Marfa Petrovna was fairly at
ease. She was a sensible woman and so she could not help
looking upon me as a dissolute profligate incapable of real
love. But a sensible woman and a jealous woman are two
very different things, and that’s where the trouble came in.
But to judge some people impartially we must renounce
certain preconceived opinions and our habitual attitude to
the ordinary people about us. I have reason to have faith in
your judgment rather than in anyone’s. Perhaps you have
already heard a great deal that was ridiculous and absurd
about Marfa Petrovna. She certainly had some very ridicu-
lous ways, but I tell you frankly that I feel really sorry for
the innumerable woes of which I was the cause. Well, and
that’s enough, I think, by way of a decorous oraison funèbre
for the most tender wife of a most tender husband. When
we quarrelled, I usually held my tongue and did not irritate
her and that gentlemanly conduct rarely failed to attain its
object, it influenced her, it pleased her, indeed. These were
times when she was positively proud of me. But your sister
she couldn’t put up with, anyway. And however she came
to risk taking such a beautiful creature into her house as a
governess. My explanation is that Marfa Petrovna was an
ardent and impressionable woman and simply fell in love
herself—literally fell in love—with your sister. Well, little
Free eBooks at
Planet eBook.com
wonder—look at Avdotya Romanovna! I saw the danger at
the first glance and what do you think, I resolved not to
look at her even. But Avdotya Romanovna herself made the
first step, would you believe it? Would you believe it too that
Marfa Petrovna was positively angry with me at first for my
persistent silence about your sister, for my careless reception
of her continual adoring praises of Avdotya Romanovna. I
don’t know what it was she wanted! Well, of course, Mar-
fa Petrovna told Avdotya Romanovna every detail about
me. She had the unfortunate habit of telling literally every-
one all our family secrets and continually complaining of
me; how could she fail to confide in such a delightful new
friend? I expect they talked of nothing else but me and no
doubt Avdotya Romanovna heard all those dark mysterious
rumours that were current about me…. I don’t mind betting
that you too have heard something of the sort already?’
‘I have. Luzhin charged you with having caused the death
of a child. Is that true?’
‘Don’t refer to those vulgar tales, I beg,’ said Svidriga-
ïlov with disgust and annoyance. ‘If you insist on wanting
to know about all that idiocy, I will tell you one day, but
now …’
‘I was told too about some footman of yours in the coun-
try whom you treated badly.’
‘I beg you to drop the subject,’ Svidrigaïlov interrupted
again with obvious impatience.
‘Was that the footman who came to you after death to fill
your pipe? … you told me about it yourself.’ Raskolnikov
felt more and more irritated.
Crime and Punishment
Svidrigaïlov looked at him attentively and Raskolnikov
fancied he caught a flash of spiteful mockery in that look.
But Svidrigaïlov restrained himself and answered very civ-
illy:
‘Yes, it was. I see that you, too, are extremely interested
and shall feel it my duty to satisfy your curiosity at the first
opportunity. Upon my soul! I see that I really might pass
for a romantic figure with some people. Judge how grateful
I must be to Marfa Petrovna for having repeated to Avdotya
Romanovna such mysterious and interesting gossip about
me. I dare not guess what impression it made on her, but
in any case it worked in my interests. With all Avdotya Ro-
manovna’s natural aversion and in spite of my invariably
gloomy and repellent aspect—she did at least feel pity for
me, pity for a lost soul. And if once a girl’s heart is moved
to pity it’s more dangerous than anything. She is bound to
want to ‘save him,’ to bring him to his senses, and lift him
up and draw him to nobler aims, and restore him to new
life and usefulness—well, we all know how far such dreams
can go. I saw at once that the bird was flying into the cage
of herself. And I too made ready. I think you are frowning,
Rodion Romanovitch? There’s no need. As you know, it all
ended in smoke. (Hang it all, what a lot I am drinking!) Do
you know, I always, from the very beginning, regretted that
it wasn’t your sister’s fate to be born in the second or third
century A.D., as the daughter of a reigning prince or some
governor or pro-consul in Asia Minor. She would undoubt-
edly have been one of those who would endure martyrdom
and would have smiled when they branded her bosom with
Free eBooks at
Planet eBook.com
hot pincers. And she would have gone to it of herself. And
in the fourth or fifth century she would have walked away
into the Egyptian desert and would have stayed there thirty
years living on roots and ecstasies and visions. She is simply
thirsting to face some torture for someone, and if she can’t
get her torture, she’ll throw herself out of a window. I’ve
heard something of a Mr. Razumihin—he’s said to be a sen-
sible fellow; his surname suggests it, indeed. He’s probably
a divinity student. Well, he’d better look after your sister!
I believe I understand her, and I am proud of it. But at the
beginning of an acquaintance, as you know, one is apt to
be more heedless and stupid. One doesn’t see clearly. Hang
it all, why is she so handsome? It’s not my fault. In fact, it
began on my side with a most irresistible physical desire.
Avdotya Romanovna is awfully chaste, incredibly and phe-
nomenally so. Take note, I tell you this about your sister as
a fact. She is almost morbidly chaste, in spite of her broad
intelligence, and it will stand in her way. There happened
to be a girl in the house then, Parasha, a black-eyed wench,
whom I had never seen before—she had just come from an-
other village—very pretty, but incredibly stupid: she burst
into tears, wailed so that she could be heard all over the
place and caused scandal. One day after dinner Avdotya
Romanovna followed me into an avenue in the garden and
with flashing eyes insisted on my leaving poor Parasha
alone. It was almost our first conversation by ourselves. I,
of course, was only too pleased to obey her wishes, tried to
appear disconcerted, embarrassed, in fact played my part
not badly. Then came interviews, mysterious conversations,
Crime and Punishment
exhortations, entreaties, supplications, even tears—would
you believe it, even tears? Think what the passion for pro-
paganda will bring some girls to! I, of course, threw it all on
my destiny, posed as hungering and thirsting for light, and
finally resorted to the most powerful weapon in the subjec-
tion of the female heart, a weapon which never fails one. It’s
the well-known resource—flattery. Nothing in the world is
harder than speaking the truth and nothing easier than flat-
tery. If there’s the hundredth part of a false note in speaking
the truth, it leads to a discord, and that leads to trouble. But
if all, to the last note, is false in flattery, it is just as agreeable,
and is heard not without satisfaction. It may be a coarse
satisfaction, but still a satisfaction. And however coarse the
flattery, at least half will be sure to seem true. That’s so for
all stages of development and classes of society. A vestal
virgin might be seduced by flattery. I can never remember
without laughter how I once seduced a lady who was devot-
ed to her husband, her children, and her principles. What
fun it was and how little trouble! And the lady really had
principles—of her own, anyway. All my tactics lay in simply
being utterly annihilated and prostrate before her purity. I
flattered her shamelessly, and as soon as I succeeded in get-
ting a pressure of the hand, even a glance from her, I would
reproach myself for having snatched it by force, and would
declare that she had resisted, so that I could never have
gained anything but for my being so unprincipled. I main-
tained that she was so innocent that she could not foresee
my treachery, and yielded to me unconsciously, unawares,
and so on. In fact, I triumphed, while my lady remained
Free eBooks at
Planet eBook.com
firmly convinced that she was innocent, chaste, and faithful
to all her duties and obligations and had succumbed quite
by accident. And how angry she was with me when I ex-
plained to her at last that it was my sincere conviction that
she was just as eager as I. Poor Marfa Petrovna was awfully
weak on the side of flattery, and if I had only cared to, I
might have had all her property settled on me during her
lifetime. (I am drinking an awful lot of wine now and talk-
ing too much.) I hope you won’t be angry if I mention now
that I was beginning to produce the same effect on Avdotya
Romanovna. But I was stupid and impatient and spoiled it
all. Avdotya Romanovna had several times—and one time
in particular—been greatly displeased by the expression of
my eyes, would you believe it? There was sometimes a light
in them which frightened her and grew stronger and stron-
ger and more unguarded till it was hateful to her. No need
to go into detail, but we parted. There I acted stupidly again.
I fell to jeering in the coarsest way at all such propaganda
and efforts to convert me; Parasha came on to the scene
again, and not she alone; in fact there was a tremendous
to-do. Ah, Rodion Romanovitch, if you could only see how
your sister’s eyes can flash sometimes! Never mind my be-
ing drunk at this moment and having had a whole glass of
wine. I am speaking the truth. I assure you that this glance
has haunted my dreams; the very rustle of her dress was
more than I could stand at last. I really began to think that
I might become epileptic. I could never have believed that I
could be moved to such a frenzy. It was essential, indeed, to
be reconciled, but by then it was impossible. And imagine
Crime and Punishment
what I did then! To what a pitch of stupidity a man can be
brought by frenzy! Never undertake anything in a frenzy,
Rodion Romanovitch. I reflected that Avdotya Romanovna
was after all a beggar (ach, excuse me, that’s not the word
… but does it matter if it expresses the meaning?), that she
lived by her work, that she had her mother and you to keep
(ach, hang it, you are frowning again), and I resolved to
offer her all my money—thirty thousand roubles I could
have realised then—if she would run away with me here,
to Petersburg. Of course I should have vowed eternal love,
rapture, and so on. Do you know, I was so wild about her
at that time that if she had told me to poison Marfa Petro-
vna or to cut her throat and to marry herself, it would have
been done at once! But it ended in the catastrophe of which
you know already. You can fancy how frantic I was when I
heard that Marfa Petrovna had got hold of that scoundrelly
attorney, Luzhin, and had almost made a match between
them—which would really have been just the same thing
as I was proposing. Wouldn’t it? Wouldn’t it? I notice that
you’ve begun to be very attentive … you interesting young
man….’
Svidrigaïlov struck the table with his fist impatiently.
He was flushed. Raskolnikov saw clearly that the glass or
glass and a half of champagne that he had sipped almost
unconsciously was affecting him— and he resolved to take
advantage of the opportunity. He felt very suspicious of
Svidrigaïlov.
‘Well, after what you have said, I am fully convinced that
you have come to Petersburg with designs on my sister,’ he
Free eBooks at
Planet eBook.com
said directly to Svidrigaïlov, in order to irritate him fur-
ther.
‘Oh, nonsense,’ said Svidrigaïlov, seeming to rouse him-
self. ‘Why, I told you … besides your sister can’t endure
me.’
‘Yes, I am certain that she can’t, but that’s not the point.’
‘Are you so sure that she can’t?’ Svidrigaïlov screwed up
his eyes and smiled mockingly. ‘You are right, she doesn’t
love me, but you can never be sure of what has passed be-
tween husband and wife or lover and mistress. There’s
always a little corner which remains a secret to the world
and is only known to those two. Will you answer for it that
Avdotya Romanovna regarded me with aversion?’
‘From some words you’ve dropped, I notice that you still
have designs —and of course evil ones—on Dounia and
mean to carry them out promptly.’
‘What, have I dropped words like that?’ Svidrigaïlov
asked in naïve dismay, taking not the slightest notice of the
epithet bestowed on his designs.
‘Why, you are dropping them even now. Why are you so
frightened? What are you so afraid of now?’
‘Me—afraid? Afraid of you? You have rather to be afraid
of me, cher ami. But what nonsense…. I’ve drunk too much
though, I see that. I was almost saying too much again.
Damn the wine! Hi! there, water!’
He snatched up the champagne bottle and flung it with-
out ceremony out of the window. Philip brought the water.
‘That’s all nonsense!’ said Svidrigaïlov, wetting a tow-
el and putting it to his head. ‘But I can answer you in one
Crime and Punishment
0
word and annihilate all your suspicions. Do you know that
I am going to get married?’
‘You told me so before.’
‘Did I? I’ve forgotten. But I couldn’t have told you so for
certain for I had not even seen my betrothed; I only meant
to. But now I really have a betrothed and it’s a settled thing,
and if it weren’t that I have business that can’t be put off, I
would have taken you to see them at once, for I should like
to ask your advice. Ach, hang it, only ten minutes left! See,
look at the watch. But I must tell you, for it’s an interesting
story, my marriage, in its own way. Where are you off to?
Going again?’
‘No, I’m not going away now.’
‘Not at all? We shall see. I’ll take you there, I’ll show you
my betrothed, only not now. For you’ll soon have to be off.
You have to go to the right and I to the left. Do you know that
Madame Resslich, the woman I am lodging with now, eh?
I know what you’re thinking, that she’s the woman whose
girl they say drowned herself in the winter. Come, are you
listening? She arranged it all for me. You’re bored, she said,
you want something to fill up your time. For, you know, I am
a gloomy, depressed person. Do you think I’m light-heart-
ed? No, I’m gloomy. I do no harm, but sit in a corner without
speaking a word for three days at a time. And that Resslich
is a sly hussy, I tell you. I know what she has got in her mind;
she thinks I shall get sick of it, abandon my wife and depart,
and she’ll get hold of her and make a profit out of her—in
our class, of course, or higher. She told me the father was a
broken-down retired official, who has been sitting in a chair
1
Free eBooks at
Planet eBook.com
for the last three years with his legs paralysed. The mamma,
she said, was a sensible woman. There is a son serving in
the provinces, but he doesn’t help; there is a daughter, who
is married, but she doesn’t visit them. And they’ve two little
nephews on their hands, as though their own children were
not enough, and they’ve taken from school their youngest
daughter, a girl who’ll be sixteen in another month, so that
then she can be married. She was for me. We went there.
How funny it was! I present myself—a landowner, a widow-
er, of a well- known name, with connections, with a fortune.
What if I am fifty and she is not sixteen? Who thinks of
that? But it’s fascinating, isn’t it? It is fascinating, ha-ha!
You should have seen how I talked to the papa and mamma.
It was worth paying to have seen me at that moment. She
comes in, curtseys, you can fancy, still in a short frock—an
unopened bud! Flushing like a sunset—she had been told,
no doubt. I don’t know how you feel about female faces, but
to my mind these sixteen years, these childish eyes, shyness
and tears of bashfulness are better than beauty; and she is
a perfect little picture, too. Fair hair in little curls, like a
lamb’s, full little rosy lips, tiny feet, a charmer! … Well, we
made friends. I told them I was in a hurry owing to domes-
tic circumstances, and the next day, that is the day before
yesterday, we were betrothed. When I go now I take her on
my knee at once and keep her there…. Well, she flushes
like a sunset and I kiss her every minute. Her mamma of
course impresses on her that this is her husband and that
this must be so. It’s simply delicious! The present betrothed
condition is perhaps better than marriage. Here you have
Crime and Punishment
what is called la nature et la vérité ha-ha! I’ve talked to her
twice, she is far from a fool. Sometimes she steals a look at
me that positively scorches me. Her face is like Raphael’s
Madonna. You know, the Sistine Madonna’s face has some-
thing fantastic in it, the face of mournful religious ecstasy.
Haven’t you noticed it? Well, she’s something in that line.
The day after we’d been betrothed, I bought her presents to
the value of fifteen hundred roubles—a set of diamonds and
another of pearls and a silver dressing-case as large as this,
with all sorts of things in it, so that even my Madonna’s face
glowed. I sat her on my knee, yesterday, and I suppose rath-
er too unceremoniously—she flushed crimson and the tears
started, but she didn’t want to show it. We were left alone,
she suddenly flung herself on my neck (for the first time
of her own accord), put her little arms round me, kissed
me, and vowed that she would be an obedient, faithful, and
good wife, would make me happy, would devote all her life,
every minute of her life, would sacrifice everything, every-
thing, and that all she asks in return is my respect and that
she wants ‘nothing, nothing more from me, no presents.’
You’ll admit that to hear such a confession, alone, from an
angel of sixteen in a muslin frock, with little curls, with a
flush of maiden shyness in her cheeks and tears of enthusi-
asm in her eyes is rather fascinating! Isn’t it fascinating? It’s
worth paying for, isn’t it? Well … listen, we’ll go to see my
betrothed, only not just now!’
‘The fact is this monstrous difference in age and develop-
ment excites your sensuality! Will you really make such a
marriage?’
Free eBooks at
Planet eBook.com
‘Why, of course. Everyone thinks of himself, and he lives
most gaily who knows best how to deceive himself. Ha-ha!
But why are you so keen about virtue? Have mercy on me,
my good friend. I am a sinful man. Ha- ha-ha!’
‘But you have provided for the children of Katerina Iva-
novna. Though … though you had your own reasons…. I
understand it all now.’
‘I am always fond of children, very fond of them,’ laughed
Svidrigaïlov. ‘I can tell you one curious instance of it. The
first day I came here I visited various haunts, after seven
years I simply rushed at them. You probably notice that I am
not in a hurry to renew acquaintance with my old friends. I
shall do without them as long as I can. Do you know, when
I was with Marfa Petrovna in the country, I was haunted
by the thought of these places where anyone who knows
his way about can find a great deal. Yes, upon my soul! The
peasants have vodka, the educated young people, shut out
from activity, waste themselves in impossible dreams and
visions and are crippled by theories; Jews have sprung up
and are amassing money, and all the rest give themselves up
to debauchery. From the first hour the town reeked of its fa-
miliar odours. I chanced to be in a frightful den—I like my
dens dirty—it was a dance, so called, and there was a cancan
such as I never saw in my day. Yes, there you have progress.
All of a sudden I saw a little girl of thirteen, nicely dressed,
dancing with a specialist in that line, with another one vis-
Chia sẻ với bạn bè của bạn: |