à-vis. Her mother was sitting on a chair by the wall. You
can’t fancy what a cancan that was! The girl was ashamed,
blushed, at last felt insulted, and began to cry. Her partner
Crime and Punishment
seized her and began whirling her round and performing
before her; everyone laughed and—I like your public, even
the cancan public—they laughed and shouted, ‘Serves her
right— serves her right! Shouldn’t bring children!’ Well,
it’s not my business whether that consoling reflection was
logical or not. I at once fixed on my plan, sat down by the
mother, and began by saying that I too was a stranger and
that people here were ill-bred and that they couldn’t distin-
guish decent folks and treat them with respect, gave her to
understand that I had plenty of money, offered to take them
home in my carriage. I took them home and got to know
them. They were lodging in a miserable little hole and had
only just arrived from the country. She told me that she and
her daughter could only regard my acquaintance as an hon-
our. I found out that they had nothing of their own and had
come to town upon some legal business. I proffered my ser-
vices and money. I learnt that they had gone to the dancing
saloon by mistake, believing that it was a genuine danc-
ing class. I offered to assist in the young girl’s education in
French and dancing. My offer was accepted with enthusi-
asm as an honour—and we are still friendly…. If you like,
we’ll go and see them, only not just now.’
‘Stop! Enough of your vile, nasty anecdotes, depraved
vile, sensual man!’
‘Schiller, you are a regular Schiller! O la vertu va-t-elle se
nicher? But you know I shall tell you these things on pur-
pose, for the pleasure of hearing your outcries!’
‘I dare say. I can see I am ridiculous myself,’ muttered
Raskolnikov angrily.
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Svidrigaïlov laughed heartily; finally he called Philip,
paid his bill, and began getting up.
‘I say, but I am drunk, assez causé ’ he said. ‘It’s been a
pleasure.’
‘I should rather think it must be a pleasure!’ cried Raskol-
nikov, getting up. ‘No doubt it is a pleasure for a worn-out
profligate to describe such adventures with a monstrous
project of the same sort in his mind—especially under such
circumstances and to such a man as me…. It’s stimulating!’
‘Well, if you come to that,’ Svidrigaïlov answered, scruti-
nising Raskolnikov with some surprise, ‘if you come to that,
you are a thorough cynic yourself. You’ve plenty to make
you so, anyway. You can understand a great deal … and you
can do a great deal too. But enough. I sincerely regret not
having had more talk with you, but I shan’t lose sight of
you…. Only wait a bit.’
Svidrigaïlov walked out of the restaurant. Raskolnikov
walked out after him. Svidrigaïlov was not however very
drunk, the wine had affected him for a moment, but it was
passing off every minute. He was preoccupied with some-
thing of importance and was frowning. He was apparently
excited and uneasy in anticipation of something. His man-
ner to Raskolnikov had changed during the last few minutes,
and he was ruder and more sneering every moment. Ras-
kolnikov noticed all this, and he too was uneasy. He became
very suspicious of Svidrigaïlov and resolved to follow him.
They came out on to the pavement.
‘You go to the right, and I to the left, or if you like, the
other way. Only adieu, mon plaisir may we meet again.’
Crime and Punishment
And he walked to the right towards the Hay Market.
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Chapter V
R
askolnikov walked after him.
‘What’s this?’ cried Svidrigaïlov turning round, ‘I
thought I said …’
‘It means that I am not going to lose sight of you now.’
‘What?’
Both stood still and gazed at one another, as though
measuring their strength.
‘From all your half tipsy stories,’ Raskolnikov observed
harshly, ‘I am positive that you have not given up your de-
signs on my sister, but are pursuing them more actively than
ever. I have learnt that my sister received a letter this morn-
ing. You have hardly been able to sit still all this time….
You may have unearthed a wife on the way, but that means
nothing. I should like to make certain myself.’
Raskolnikov could hardly have said himself what he
wanted and of what he wished to make certain.
‘Upon my word! I’ll call the police!’
‘Call away!’
Again they stood for a minute facing each other. At last
Svidrigaïlov’s face changed. Having satisfied himself that
Raskolnikov was not frightened at his threat, he assumed a
mirthful and friendly air.
‘What a fellow! I purposely refrained from referring to
your affair, though I am devoured by curiosity. It’s a fantas-
Crime and Punishment
tic affair. I’ve put it off till another time, but you’re enough
to rouse the dead…. Well, let us go, only I warn you be-
forehand I am only going home for a moment, to get some
money; then I shall lock up the flat, take a cab and go to
spend the evening at the Islands. Now, now are you going
to follow me?’
‘I’m coming to your lodgings, not to see you but Sofya
Semyonovna, to say I’m sorry not to have been at the fu-
neral.’
‘That’s as you like, but Sofya Semyonovna is not at home.
She has taken the three children to an old lady of high rank,
the patroness of some orphan asylums, whom I used to
know years ago. I charmed the old lady by depositing a sum
of money with her to provide for the three children of Kat-
erina Ivanovna and subscribing to the institution as well. I
told her too the story of Sofya Semyonovna in full detail,
suppressing nothing. It produced an indescribable effect
on her. That’s why Sofya Semyonovna has been invited to
call to-day at the X. Hotel where the lady is staying for the
time.’
‘No matter, I’ll come all the same.’
‘As you like, it’s nothing to me, but I won’t come with
you; here we are at home. By the way, I am convinced that
you regard me with suspicion just because I have shown
such delicacy and have not so far troubled you with ques-
tions … you understand? It struck you as extraordinary; I
don’t mind betting it’s that. Well, it teaches one to show del-
icacy!’
‘And to listen at doors!’
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‘Ah, that’s it, is it?’ laughed Svidrigaïlov. ‘Yes, I should
have been surprised if you had let that pass after all that
has happened. Ha-ha! Though I did understand something
of the pranks you had been up to and were telling Sofya
Semyonovna about, what was the meaning of it? Perhaps
I am quite behind the times and can’t understand. For
goodness’ sake, explain it, my dear boy. Expound the lat-
est theories!’
‘You couldn’t have heard anything. You’re making it all
up!’
‘But I’m not talking about that (though I did hear some-
thing). No, I’m talking of the way you keep sighing and
groaning now. The Schiller in you is in revolt every moment,
and now you tell me not to listen at doors. If that’s how you
feel, go and inform the police that you had this mischance:
you made a little mistake in your theory. But if you are con-
vinced that one mustn’t listen at doors, but one may murder
old women at one’s pleasure, you’d better be off to America
and make haste. Run, young man! There may still be time.
I’m speaking sincerely. Haven’t you the money? I’ll give you
the fare.’
‘I’m not thinking of that at all,’ Raskolnikov interrupted
with disgust.
‘I understand (but don’t put yourself out, don’t discuss
it if you don’t want to). I understand the questions you are
worrying over— moral ones, aren’t they? Duties of citizen
and man? Lay them all aside. They are nothing to you now,
ha-ha! You’ll say you are still a man and a citizen. If so you
ought not to have got into this coil. It’s no use taking up a
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0
job you are not fit for. Well, you’d better shoot yourself, or
don’t you want to?’
‘You seem trying to enrage me, to make me leave you.’
‘What a queer fellow! But here we are. Welcome to the
staircase. You see, that’s the way to Sofya Semyonovna. Look,
there is no one at home. Don’t you believe me? Ask Kaper-
naumov. She leaves the key with him. Here is Madame de
Kapernaumov herself. Hey, what? She is rather deaf. Has
she gone out? Where? Did you hear? She is not in and won’t
be till late in the evening probably. Well, come to my room;
you wanted to come and see me, didn’t you? Here we are.
Madame Resslich’s not at home. She is a woman who is al-
ways busy, an excellent woman I assure you…. She might
have been of use to you if you had been a little more sensible.
Now, see! I take this five-per-cent bond out of the bureau—
see what a lot I’ve got of them still—this one will be turned
into cash to-day. I mustn’t waste any more time. The bureau
is locked, the flat is locked, and here we are again on the
stairs. Shall we take a cab? I’m going to the Islands. Would
you like a lift? I’ll take this carriage. Ah, you refuse? You are
tired of it! Come for a drive! I believe it will come on to rain.
Never mind, we’ll put down the hood….’
Svidrigaïlov was already in the carriage. Raskolnikov
decided that his suspicions were at least for that moment
unjust. Without answering a word he turned and walked
back towards the Hay Market. If he had only turned round
on his way he might have seen Svidrigaïlov get out not a
hundred paces off, dismiss the cab and walk along the pave-
ment. But he had turned the corner and could see nothing.
1
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Intense disgust drew him away from Svidrigaïlov.
‘To think that I could for one instant have looked for help
from that coarse brute, that depraved sensualist and black-
guard!’ he cried.
Raskolnikov’s judgment was uttered too lightly and
hastily: there was something about Svidrigaïlov which
gave him a certain original, even a mysterious character.
As concerned his sister, Raskolnikov was convinced that
Svidrigaïlov would not leave her in peace. But it was too
tiresome and unbearable to go on thinking and thinking
about this.
When he was alone, he had not gone twenty paces before
he sank, as usual, into deep thought. On the bridge he stood
by the railing and began gazing at the water. And his sister
was standing close by him.
He met her at the entrance to the bridge, but passed by
without seeing her. Dounia had never met him like this in
the street before and was struck with dismay. She stood still
and did not know whether to call to him or not. Suddenly
she saw Svidrigaïlov coming quickly from the direction of
the Hay Market.
He seemed to be approaching cautiously. He did not go
on to the bridge, but stood aside on the pavement, doing
all he could to avoid Raskolnikov’s seeing him. He had ob-
served Dounia for some time and had been making signs to
her. She fancied he was signalling to beg her not to speak to
her brother, but to come to him.
That was what Dounia did. She stole by her brother and
went up to Svidrigaïlov.
Crime and Punishment
‘Let us make haste away,’ Svidrigaïlov whispered to her,
‘I don’t want Rodion Romanovitch to know of our meeting.
I must tell you I’ve been sitting with him in the restaurant
close by, where he looked me up and I had great difficulty
in getting rid of him. He has somehow heard of my letter to
you and suspects something. It wasn’t you who told him, of
course, but if not you, who then?’
‘Well, we’ve turned the corner now,’ Dounia interrupted,
‘and my brother won’t see us. I have to tell you that I am go-
ing no further with you. Speak to me here. You can tell it all
in the street.’
‘In the first place, I can’t say it in the street; secondly, you
must hear Sofya Semyonovna too; and, thirdly, I will show
you some papers…. Oh well, if you won’t agree to come with
me, I shall refuse to give any explanation and go away at
once. But I beg you not to forget that a very curious secret of
your beloved brother’s is entirely in my keeping.’
Dounia stood still, hesitating, and looked at Svidrigaïlov
with searching eyes.
‘What are you afraid of?’ he observed quietly. ‘The town
is not the country. And even in the country you did me
more harm than I did you.’
‘Have you prepared Sofya Semyonovna?’
‘No, I have not said a word to her and am not quite cer-
tain whether she is at home now. But most likely she is. She
has buried her stepmother to-day: she is not likely to go vis-
iting on such a day. For the time I don’t want to speak to
anyone about it and I half regret having spoken to you. The
slightest indiscretion is as bad as betrayal in a thing like
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this. I live there in that house, we are coming to it. That’s the
porter of our house—he knows me very well; you see, he’s
bowing; he sees I’m coming with a lady and no doubt he has
noticed your face already and you will be glad of that if you
are afraid of me and suspicious. Excuse my putting things
so coarsely. I haven’t a flat to myself; Sofya Semyonovna’s
room is next to mine—she lodges in the next flat. The whole
floor is let out in lodgings. Why are you frightened like a
child? Am I really so terrible?’
Svidrigaïlov’s lips were twisted in a condescending
smile; but he was in no smiling mood. His heart was throb-
bing and he could scarcely breathe. He spoke rather loud to
cover his growing excitement. But Dounia did not notice
this peculiar excitement, she was so irritated by his remark
that she was frightened of him like a child and that he was
so terrible to her.
‘Though I know that you are not a man … of honour, I
am not in the least afraid of you. Lead the way,’ she said
with apparent composure, but her face was very pale.
Svidrigaïlov stopped at Sonia’s room.
‘Allow me to inquire whether she is at home…. She is not.
How unfortunate! But I know she may come quite soon. If
she’s gone out, it can only be to see a lady about the orphans.
Their mother is dead…. I’ve been meddling and making ar-
rangements for them. If Sofya Semyonovna does not come
back in ten minutes, I will send her to you, to-day if you like.
This is my flat. These are my two rooms. Madame Resslich,
my landlady, has the next room. Now, look this way. I will
show you my chief piece of evidence: this door from my
Crime and Punishment
bedroom leads into two perfectly empty rooms, which are
to let. Here they are … You must look into them with some
attention.’
Svidrigaïlov occupied two fairly large furnished rooms.
Dounia was looking about her mistrustfully, but saw noth-
ing special in the furniture or position of the rooms. Yet
there was something to observe, for instance, that Svidriga-
ïlov’s flat was exactly between two sets of almost uninhabited
apartments. His rooms were not entered directly from the
passage, but through the landlady’s two almost empty
rooms. Unlocking a door leading out of his bedroom, Svid-
rigaïlov showed Dounia the two empty rooms that were to
let. Dounia stopped in the doorway, not knowing what she
was called to look upon, but Svidrigaïlov hastened to ex-
plain.
‘Look here, at this second large room. Notice that door,
it’s locked. By the door stands a chair, the only one in the
two rooms. I brought it from my rooms so as to listen
more conveniently. Just the other side of the door is Sofya
Semyonovna’s table; she sat there talking to Rodion Roma-
novitch. And I sat here listening on two successive evenings,
for two hours each time—and of course I was able to learn
something, what do you think?’
‘You listened?’
‘Yes, I did. Now come back to my room; we can’t sit down
here.’
He brought Avdotya Romanovna back into his sitting-
room and offered her a chair. He sat down at the opposite
side of the table, at least seven feet from her, but probably
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there was the same glow in his eyes which had once fright-
ened Dounia so much. She shuddered and once more looked
about her distrustfully. It was an involuntary gesture; she
evidently did not wish to betray her uneasiness. But the
secluded position of Svidrigaïlov’s lodging had suddenly
struck her. She wanted to ask whether his landlady at least
were at home, but pride kept her from asking. Moreover, she
had another trouble in her heart incomparably greater than
fear for herself. She was in great distress.
‘Here is your letter,’ she said, laying it on the table. ‘Can
it be true what you write? You hint at a crime committed,
you say, by my brother. You hint at it too clearly; you daren’t
deny it now. I must tell you that I’d heard of this stupid
story before you wrote and don’t believe a word of it. It’s a
disgusting and ridiculous suspicion. I know the story and
why and how it was invented. You can have no proofs. You
promised to prove it. Speak! But let me warn you that I don’t
believe you! I don’t believe you!’
Dounia said this, speaking hurriedly, and for an instant
the colour rushed to her face.
‘If you didn’t believe it, how could you risk coming alone
to my rooms? Why have you come? Simply from curiosity?’
‘Don’t torment me. Speak, speak!’
‘There’s no denying that you are a brave girl. Upon my
word, I thought you would have asked Mr. Razumihin to
escort you here. But he was not with you nor anywhere
near. I was on the look-out. It’s spirited of you, it proves you
wanted to spare Rodion Romanovitch. But everything is di-
vine in you…. About your brother, what am I to say to you?
Crime and Punishment
You’ve just seen him yourself. What did you think of him?’
‘Surely that’s not the only thing you are building on?’
‘No, not on that, but on his own words. He came here
on two successive evenings to see Sofya Semyonovna. I’ve
shown you where they sat. He made a full confession to
her. He is a murderer. He killed an old woman, a pawnbro-
ker, with whom he had pawned things himself. He killed
her sister too, a pedlar woman called Lizaveta, who hap-
pened to come in while he was murdering her sister. He
killed them with an axe he brought with him. He murdered
them to rob them and he did rob them. He took money and
various things…. He told all this, word for word, to Sofya
Semyonovna, the only person who knows his secret. But
she has had no share by word or deed in the murder; she
was as horrified at it as you are now. Don’t be anxious, she
won’t betray him.’
‘It cannot be,’ muttered Dounia, with white lips. She
gasped for breath. ‘It cannot be. There was not the slightest
cause, no sort of ground…. It’s a lie, a lie!’
‘He robbed her, that was the cause, he took money and
things. It’s true that by his own admission he made no use
of the money or things, but hid them under a stone, where
they are now. But that was because he dared not make use
of them.’
‘But how could he steal, rob? How could he dream of it?’
cried Dounia, and she jumped up from the chair. ‘Why, you
know him, and you’ve seen him, can he be a thief?’
She seemed to be imploring Svidrigaïlov; she had entire-
ly forgotten her fear.
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‘There are thousands and millions of combinations and
possibilities, Avdotya Romanovna. A thief steals and knows
he is a scoundrel, but I’ve heard of a gentleman who broke
open the mail. Who knows, very likely he thought he was
doing a gentlemanly thing! Of course I should not have
believed it myself if I’d been told of it as you have, but I be-
lieve my own ears. He explained all the causes of it to Sofya
Semyonovna too, but she did not believe her ears at first, yet
she believed her own eyes at last.’
‘What … were the causes?’
‘It’s a long story, Avdotya Romanovna. Here’s … how
shall I tell you?—A theory of a sort, the same one by which
I for instance consider that a single misdeed is permissible
if the principal aim is right, a solitary wrongdoing and hun-
dreds of good deeds! It’s galling too, of course, for a young
man of gifts and overweening pride to know that if he had,
for instance, a paltry three thousand, his whole career, his
whole future would be differently shaped and yet not to
have that three thousand. Add to that, nervous irritability
from hunger, from lodging in a hole, from rags, from a vivid
sense of the charm of his social position and his sister’s and
mother’s position too. Above all, vanity, pride and vanity,
though goodness knows he may have good qualities too….
I am not blaming him, please don’t think it; besides, it’s not
my business. A special little theory came in too—a theory
of a sort—dividing mankind, you see, into material and su-
perior persons, that is persons to whom the law does not
apply owing to their superiority, who make laws for the rest
of mankind, the material, that is. It’s all right as a theory,
Crime and Punishment
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